The next morning, Abel was a man on a mission.
Orion noticed it immediately over breakfast. Abel was unusually quiet, pushing his eggs around his plate with intense focus, his brow furrowed in deep thought. He kept glancing at the door, then back at his food, as if mentally measuring distances.
"My love," Orion said softly, setting down his tea. "Where are you going?"
Abel jolted, as if caught doing something illicit. He straightened his spine, puffing out his chest slightly.
"I... ah." He cleared his throat. "I am going to meet Angel."
"Oh," Orion said, watching him carefully. Abel’s tells were not subtle. The way his eyes darted to the left, the slight flush on his neck. "Then I’ll come with you. I could use the air."
"No!" Abel said, too quickly. He reached across the small table and put a large hand on Orion’s shoulder, practically pressing him back into his chair. "No, no. I can go alone. I am a grownup now."
He said it with such earnest, rehearsed conviction that Orion had to fight a smile. He raised an eyebrow but said nothing, taking another sip of tea.
Abel watched him, waiting for an argument. When none came, he relaxed a fraction. "One hour," Orion said, his tone leaving no room for debate. "If you’re not back, I will come find you."
"Deal," Abel agreed, nodding solemnly. He shoved one last piece of toast in his mouth, gave Orion a clumsy pat on the head that nearly knocked the cup from his hand, and bolted from the room.
But he didn’t head for the main corridor that led to the stables. Instead, he ducked into a shadowed alcove, glanced both ways, and slipped through a narrow, plain door meant for servants.
He entered another world.
The back corridors of Valerian Manor were a maze of stone, worn smooth by generations of hurried footsteps. The air was cooler, smelling of soap, damp stone, and baking bread. Abel moved with a surprising familiarity, his broad shoulders just clearing the tight spaces. He took a narrow servants’ staircase down two flights, then pushed open a heavy, unmarked door that led outside behind the main building.
Here, tucked between the kitchen garden wall and the old carriage house, was a forgotten little courtyard. It was mostly paved with cracked flagstones, with a single, gnarled apple tree in the center. Leaning against the sunny side of the carriage house were several crates and an overturned barrel.
This was the domain of the manor’s youngest inhabitants: the children of the cooks, stable hands, gardeners, and maids.
Four pairs of eyes lifted from their game of knucklebones as Abel’s shadow fell across them.
A tiny girl with two fierce red braids squinted up at him. "Oh, look who remembers us."
A round-faced boy with cheeks like apples grinned. "It’s Brother Abel!"
A lean, serious-looking boy with spectacles mended with twine adjusted his glasses and gave a formal little nod. "Congratulations on your marriage, sir."
The fourth, a smaller girl clutching a rag doll, just stared with wide eyes.
Abel smiled, some of the tension leaving his face. He walked over and sat on the ground with a thump, crossing his legs. He was so large he made the children look like dolls arranged around him.
"Hello, Millie. Hello, Toben. Hello, Willem." He nodded to each. The little one with the doll he pointed at. "Your dolly has a new dress."
The little girl, named Lissy, hid her face behind the doll shyly.
Millie, the red-braided leader, wasn’t so easily distracted. She sucked on a candied apple stick, eyeing him. "You only come here when somethin’s wrong. Or when you’ve got sweets. You got sweets?"
Abel’s face fell. "No sweets today."
"Told you," Toben the round boy said, elbowing Willem. This chapter was taken from g.com without permission.
"What’s wrong then?" Millie asked, practical as ever.
Abel looked down at his big hands in his lap. The cheerful facade crumpled. "I messed up," he said, his voice dropping.
The children exchanged glances. A ’messed up’ from Brother Abel could range from spilling ink to, as once memorably happened, accidentally dislodging a section of garden wall.
"What’d you do?" Toben asked, leaning forward.
Abel started counting on his fingers, his expression tragic. "I made my husband sad." One finger. "I made him cry." A second finger. He looked at the two raised digits as if they represented crimes of the highest order.
A collective gasp went through the little group. Making someone cry, especially a *husband*, was clearly a grave offense in their code.
Willem adjusted his spectacles. "How? Did you break something of his?"
"Worse," Abel whispered. "I broke the party. There was shouting. And guards. And... and I scared him. I saw his face. He was scared of me."
The children were silent, absorbing this. They knew about the ’quiet rooms.’ They’d heard the whispers about the ’mad heir.’ Their parents warned them to be gentle, to be kind, to not startle him. They liked Brother Abel because he was never mean, he listened to their stories, and he could lift all four of them at once.
Him scaring someone was a serious concept.
"What do you want to do?" Willem asked, the strategist of the group.
"I want to fix it," Abel said, desperation creeping into his voice. "I said sorry. Lots of times. He says it’s okay. But... but I still feel bad inside. I want to make the bad feeling go away. For him and for me."
He looked at them, his golden eyes pleading for an answer he couldn’t find in the adult world.
*Smack.*
A small, sticky hand slapped the top of his head. It was Millie, waving her candied apple like a scepter.
"You dummy," she said, though not unkindly. "You shouldn’t be talkin’ about married stuff with *us*. We’re kids. What do we know?"
Abel’s face fell even further, into utter dejection. "But I don’t know who else to ask. Father is... cold. Ashford is mean. The maids just curtsy. Orion is the one who’s sad. I can’t ask him how to make him not sad."
The logic was impeccable.
The children looked at each other. They were now officially consulted. A council of state for matters of the heart.
Toben piped up first. "Gifts! When Mama gets mad at Papa, he brings her flowers from the garden. The ones she’s not supposed to pick. Then she yells about the flowers but she puts them in water and stops being so mad."
"Flowers," Abel repeated, committing it to memory.
"Or food!" Lissy chirped from behind her doll. "Papa brings Mama a honey cake from town when she’s poorly."
"Honey cake," Abel said, nodding.
Willem pushed his glasses up. "Logical apologies often involve restitution for the damaged thing. Did you break something of his? You could replace it."
"I broke his... party," Abel said, struggling with the abstract concept.
"Can’t replace a party," Millie stated, sucking her candy thoughtfully. "But you can make a new one. A better one."
She stood up, brushing dirt off her patched skirt. At eight years old, she was the pack leader, and she approached the problem with the gravity of a general. The source of this chapter is g.com.
"Listen. You guys are married, right? So that means you’re lovers." She said the word with a mix of authority and dreamy fascination. She hugged herself, swaying slightly. "So... you should take him on a *date*."
The other children made soft ’oooh’ sounds. A date was the pinnacle of romantic lore in their world, gleaned from overheard ballads and snippets of their parents’ conversations.
"A date?" Abel asked, the word unfamiliar on his tongue.
"Yeah!" Toben said, excited. "Like in the stories! You take him to a nice place!"
"Bring flowers," Lissy reminded him.
"And nice food," Toben added.
Willem nodded. "A change of environment can facilitate emotional recalibration. Somewhere without negative associations."
Abel blinked, parsing that. "Somewhere happy?"
"Yes," Willem confirmed.
Millie twirled, her braids flying. "And when a date ends... you kiss!" She said it in a loud, dramatic whisper, and all the children giggled, covering their mouths.
Abel’s eyes went wide. A kiss. That was a very big, very specific action. His mind supplied the memory of Orion’s cheek against his shoulder last night, the scent of his skin. His own heart did a funny little jump.
"A kiss," he repeated, sounding awed.
"Only if the date goes good!" Millie cautioned, pointing her candy at him. "If he’s still sad, no kiss. That’d be weird."
"Right," Abel said, suddenly nervous. "No kiss if sad."
"So," Millie plopped back down, business-like. "Plan. You gotta get him out of the big house. Away from all the... *them*." She waved a hand dismissively towards the manor, encompassing all the disapproving adults.
"The meadow," Willem suggested. "South meadow. It’s sunny. There are wildflowers by the stream. It is aesthetically pleasing and rarely frequented by the household."
"Perfect!" Millie declared. "You get Cook to give you a basket. We’ll help! We can get the good bread, the one with seeds. And some cheese. And apples!"
"I can pick flowers!" Lissy said, finally setting her doll down.
"I’ll distract Old Grumpy in the pantry!" Toben volunteered, referring to the stern head cook.
Abel looked around at their eager, determined faces. A slow, real smile spread across his own. The heavy guilt in his chest lightened, just a little. He had a plan. A secret, important quest with allies.
"A date," he said again, feeling the shape of the word. It sounded like hope. "In the south meadow. With a basket. And flowers."
"And then maybe a kiss," Millie singsonged, making them all giggle again.
Abel nodded, his mission now crystal clear. He had the location, the objective, and even a potential bonus reward. All he had to do was convince Orion.
He stood up, brushing off his trousers. "Thank you," he said, his voice thick with gratitude. "You’re the best knights in the whole kingdom."
The children beamed with pride.
"One hour is almost up," Willem noted, checking a non-existent watch on his wrist.
Abel’s eyes widened in panic. He had to get back before Orion came looking! He gave them a hurried wave, then turned and lumbered back towards the secret door, his mind already racing with plans for bread, cheese, and the terrifying, wonderful prospect of a kiss.