A single promise made in moonlight binds two outcasts together—one branded a curse, the other a disgrace. But even secret friendships carry risks in a castle full of eyes.
The stone chess piece felt cool and smooth beneath our joined hands, its carved edges worn soft by Max's constant touch. For a moment, neither of us spoke; we simply sat on the bench, listening to the wind whistle through the tower's arches and the distant clatter of the castle kitchens preparing for supper.
"You're not like the others," Max said quietly, his fingers still resting on mine. "They either whisper and run, or stare like I'm some kind of monster."
I squeezed his hand gently. "You're not a monster. And I know what it's like to be… unwanted." My own title—Don Lewis—had once been a mark of honor, but after my family's fall from grace, it was little more than a joke whispered in hallways. I'd been sent to work in the castle as a scullery maid, meant to be seen only when called, heard only when spoken to.
"Can you… tell me what you see?" he asked suddenly. "When you look at me?"
I glanced at his silver hair, the way it caught the moonlight, and the soft curve of his smile. "I see someone who notices things most people overlook. Like how the stone here has different textures, or how the wind sounds different when it passes through this tower than it does anywhere else." I paused, then added, "And I see a friend."
A bright laugh bubbled up from his lips—light and carefree, nothing like the guarded chuckles I'd seen from the adult Max in the game. "A friend," he repeated, as if testing the word on his tongue. "I've never had one of those."
From that day forward, the tower became our secret place. Most afternoons, when my chores were done, I'd slip away with tools I'd carefully borrowed and scraps of food I'd saved. Max would already be there, his hands mapping out new shapes in the stones—but we soon learned we weren't as alone as we thought.
"Your Highness? Are you here?"
The voice made us both freeze—it was Clara, the head maid who'd been kind to Max. She stepped into the tower room, her eyes moving from Max to me, and her expression softened instead of hardening.
"I see you've found a companion," she said, walking over to us. She glanced at the half-carved chess piece in Max's hands. "I taught him to feel for shapes when he was just a baby. Said it would help him know the world better."
"I'm sorry," I started to say, bowing my head. "I didn't mean to—"
"No need for apologies," Clara interrupted gently. "But you must be careful. The King doesn't like anyone getting close to him. And there are others in this castle who'd use even a child's friendship against them."
She handed me a small leather pouch. "Inside are proper carving tools—sharper, safer. And some salve for your hands." Her gaze was serious. "Protect him, girl. Not just from the world's cruelty, but from the lies that will come his way. He deserves someone who'll stand by him, even when it's dangerous."
That night, as I lay on my thin mattress, I traced the new tools in the pouch and thought of Clara's warning. The game's plot was still years away, but shadows were already moving in the castle. Our bond wasn't just about building chess pieces and sharing stories—it was about preparing for the day when we'd have to fight to keep each other safe.