Naturally, father was outraged. I brought a boy into the house! A complete stranger. Right after my debut. He was concerned about people finding out, rumors spreading about his unmarried young daughter—all well-meaning concerns which I really can’t refute. 

But when I  told him he descended from a pillar of light in the maze garden, his expression changed.

Father turned to the window overlooking Eton Hall’s maze garden. It brings me back to the first and only time he brought up the origins of the maze. I was only a little girl.

“Listen carefully, my angel. This right here is no ordinary maze. Not everybody who goes in goes out. Lose your way and you’ll find yourself in a different world…”

The Duchy of Westburgh isn’t the wealthiest nor is it the most powerful. The duke could easily trade Kalel in exchange for support from the empire’s most powerful magicians—not that he had any need for it. But the duke has no greed in his heart.

He then finally spoke: “Do you trust him?”

I said “Yes” with all my heart. And when the duke gave his word, I rushed over to him with a big hug.

It was a decision I made for my selfish reasons, but I have no regrets. Now swimming in riches and popularity thanks to my “foresight” and Kalel’s outstanding skills, the duke sure regrets nothing, too.

It was either Kalel became a knight or a butler. Becoming a knight required of him a noble lineage—which he is, but not of this world, and nobody else knows—so that would require some forgery. The duke could buy off a fallen lower noble for his title, but word can get out that way. Our head butler Sebastian, who is unmarried and getting old, offered to adopt Kalel and train him as an apprentice. 

Kalel spoke for himself, looking only at me. “I want to be what allows me to stay close to you.” 

All my life—30 years before plus 17 here—I have been waiting to fall in love. A grand romance. Maybe start out as tension, dislike at first sight. Sparks fly throughout these stories—sometimes the sparks come from the clashing of proverbial swords. Oh, that delectable push and pull. I want something just as passionate.

Can I really love someone despite so and so? The female leads mull it over while pacing the room back and forth. And then, boom, in one empty garden space as if they are the only two people in the world, they reveal what’s in their hearts. In cinematic depictions, a grand orchestra swells in the background, and by the time I exit the theatre, I am an inconsolable mess, moved by true love, of course, but also stabbed by the bitter truth—is it ever going to happen to me?

Every day, since Kalel literally fell into my life, I get dolled up for two hours. I don’t know if it helps. But it calms my nerves, helps me feel ready to face him. 

“You really are all grown up now, my lady,” Sylvia, my maid, sheds a tear after putting my hair up into a braid crown. “You used to refuse baths after fencing with the duke. Your armpit odor—“

“SYLVIA!” I raise my voice. What if Kalel can hear us! “Things from the past must stay in the past.”

Sylvia giggles. “Everyone in the household knows all about those days, my lady.”

“Everyone???” Including Kalel???

“Of course. We all feel fortunate to have witnessed your growth, from an unpredictable sprout to a beautiful flower in bloom. Your dedication to good grooming now only enhances your natural beauty,” Sylvia finished, securing the braid with a bow. “We are proud to serve the most beautiful lady in the empire.”

Fine, Sylvia. She has won me over with flattery. I flutter my long lashes her way. “Am I really?”

“Of course! The empire has not stopped talking about the enchanting lady of Westburgh since your debutante ball. Society now realizes how beautiful your unique features are. In fact, your milky white skin has started a trend,” she responds, patting pearl powder onto my cheekbones and collarbones. “Your popularity is also causing the duke problems. There are so many marriage proposals to my lady but the duke keeps putting it off. At this rate, maybe even the crown prince will be rejected…”

My heart stopped. “The crown prince?”

“Indeed! Yes, yes, the crown prince. But it’s a proposal the emperor sent on his behalf. The crown prince has been fighting hard in the borders since before your debutante ball, but news of his victory has arrived, so pretty soon he will be asking for an audience.”

So much has already changed and the crown prince isn’t even interested. So why are our fates still connected?

I’ve had enough of this. I got up. I must see Kalel, who will be my happy end after this is all over.

I walk up to the servants’ wing, where Sebastian trains Kalel. I can’t really stop and stare, so I only watch him discreetly as I walk past, Sylvia and my other maids following me a few steps behind, with the pretense of going for a walk before I rest for coffee in Eton Hall’s many gazebos and gardens.

The entire thing takes six seconds. Out of the 24 hours in a day, those six seconds are the most important. Every day, through the window, sometime in those six seconds, our eyes meet. 

On some days, he seems exhausted, barely able to stand up straight. Some days, he looks like he’s holding back his anger over some broken plates on the floor. Some days, he’s proud and satisfied, with a smug expression on his face, as if flaunting his pouring technique to me. My mouth would feel dry, thirsty for that refreshing tall glass of water…

Every day, he looks determined. Inspired. Every day that I watch him through that window, in those six seconds, our eyes meet and it’s like he’s been waiting for me all along. He looks up to the window, he looks up from transcribing a thick stack of books, or setting up cutlery on the table—no matter the situation, he looks up, and his ruby eyes sparkle when they meet mine.

I started seeing him more when he progressed to shadowing Sebastian around the mansion. We would exchange glances when our paths cross.  Sometimes, I spied on him.

"You are being impatient. You are using too much strength!" I've never seen or heard Sebastian raise his voice, but I guess it's happening today. A demon king going through a butler training crash course from someone literally born into the job—it can't be that easy.

I peeked through the door and saw coffee spilled throughout the floor with broken shards of china. Kalel lowered his head, fists shaking.

The next time we crossed paths, I discreetly tossed over a toffee candy for encouragement. He received it like a treasure.

In the afternoons, I would see him puttering about in the space beneath my bedroom window. I think he’s stretching. But why is he blushing? I move my reading to my windowsill—and then I realized I should hide the cover since the title says Angels & Demons: The Legend of the Atlantia Empire. 

An hour can easily pass like that, with me watching him from the corner of my eye, and my whole day would be complete.

He then progressed to serving me coffee. I knew it wasn't easy for him to get to this point. And it was all worth it because every sip is perfect. I didn't want to make light of his hard work.

"You've done very well," I tell him every day. 

And he’ll respond with something completely left field and outrageous with a straight face. “I live to please you.”

I learn something new about him every day. He doesn't like sugar or milk with his coffee. His favorite method is cold brew and loves it over ice.

I would look forward to our daily small talk, and so did Sylvia and the maids, excited to create beautiful looks for me. 

One day, they permed my hair into mermaid waves, and cut up red roses from the greenhouse to be used as hair clips. Sylvia had the stroke of inspiration to dab rouge on my lids and cheeks at the very last minute. Kalel, who had already become flawless at this point, rattled his tray once he laid eyes on me that afternoon. I never really found out if that was a good thing or bad.

Thinking we’ve already become close, I asked of him, “Will it bother you to write to me?”

“If you would rather not speak with me, my lady, I can—”

“No, no. I take pleasure in our chats, as much as your delicious coffee, Kalel. But it doesn’t feel enough. For you, it can also be good conversational letter-writing and penmanship practice.”

As I went on, the disappointed look on his face changed into a bright smile. “It will be an honor.”

“You can be yourself in these letters. Just fun. Just any random musings you may have that we didn’t have time for over coffee. Everything and anything you'd like to share with me.”

Without fail, the short notes came every day on the desk in my reception room with a vase of fragrant flowers that he picked himself. Today, it's an ikebana of fuchsia orchids. I didn't even know we grew orchids. Would you look at that, the demon king has an acuity for floral arrangements!

He always begins with: My Lady Catherine,

Mundane notes like: I had partaken in the most delightful thing for the first time today. A peach. How can something be so delicious?

Or a short, simple question: What are you reading?

Like in person, Kalel is a formal man with a few words, but sometimes he pays a heartfelt compliment that catches me off guard: Did you already know that your leadership in the duchy is respected and admired by everyone in the estate? Most especially me. I am writing to let you know that your efforts do not go unnoticed.

Or he writes something that sweeps me off my feet: I thought about what you asked yesterday. The hypothetical question. My answer still stands. If given the chance to do my life all over again, I will still choose this path that brought me to your side. 

He signs off every letter: Always, I remain yours, Kalel

Sometimes, it’s accompanied with a piece of fruit. Today it’s a honey orange, freshly picked from god knows where. They do not grow in this climate.

I leave my reply on the same spot, for him to find the next day when he collects the flowers.

But how did you eat it? If it’s with Sebastian, my guess is with neat slices using a dessert fork. 

That’s no way to go. Half the joy of eating a ripe peach is biting into its luscious flesh. Bring the peaches to me as they are next time and I will show you the way.

That book? Oh, just ladies’ matters… Nothing for you to concern yourself with.

How to respond to the last two… 

I get giddy whenever I write his name: Dear Kalel, 

You all inspire me to be better. Please continue to take care of me as you do now. You are my strength.

Now for his last letter. I went through a dozen crumpled notes before I settled with: Saving you is the best decision of my life.

Each one, I sign off: Love, Catherine.

It was like this. It was one small encounter after another, every day, that Kalel started taking root in my heart.

Not the so-called grand love that I had made up in my mind when I was still reading the novel. Not the suffocating lust that I feel for him in that butler's suit, when he adjusts his collar when it’s hot, or when he bites his glove to pull it out...

I realized in this one year that I love these little things about him. And I can't wait to spend the rest of my life getting to know him more.