The Selection (Troyler AU)

♔Part IV♔

Troye POV

"I don't know why they always put me on kitchen duty," a boy named Caspar muttered beside me, as he prepared an omelet the the King ordered for breakfast,"I'm absolutely shit at this."

It was a week after the Prince made his official announcement of the Selection over live television, and ever since, my jobs have doubled. Why? Because since there will be thirty-five women coming to the palace, all of the maids are required to tidy of the rooms for their stay. Once the women arrive, three maids will be assigned to each of them, to basically do whatever the Selected tell them to do.

Because of that, all of the male servants will be taking over their jobs for the time being.

When Connor delivered the news to us all in the Servants' Lounge, I recall a collection of groans sounding out about the room. I kept silent though, keeping my frustration in check. After my time with Tyler, I was making sure now more than ever to go unnoticed by everyone. I had this eerie feeling that I was being watched by him, or at least by someone, but I figured that that was just paranoia. Still, I kept to myself, going about my duties like a chameleon, always blending in to my surroundings so that nothing looked out of place.

Back to now, I glanced over at Caspar's plate, looking over his omelet; I'm technically not supposed to be on kitchen duty, if it weren't for the maids being given other jobs, but I've had this particular shift a couple of years ago. I remember the main chef - Korey, I think his name was - teaching me how to make one lets the way the King likes them himself. I'm not sure what happened to Korey, but I know he's not on the kitchen staff anymore.

Caspar had the right idea; he put the right ingredients in the right order, and had the temperature on the right amount of heat. He just, well, undercooked everything.

Feeling a rush of sympathy for him ( and remembering the fact that what he does reflects on the entire staff ), I quickly made my way over to him, muttering,"I'll take care of it." He seemed surprised - understandable, seeing as I've never spoken a word to him in my life - but didn't protest, simply handing me the spatula.

I made quick work of the eggs, flipping them and spreading them around the sizzling pan, and adding salt and pepper once they were out of the pan. It was easy for me, and I almost felt nostalgic for the time that I used to serve in the kitchen; I'd take it any day over cleaning the bathrooms. But I knew that it was generally the women who worked in the kitchen, since they didn't have the muscle to lift around heavy things that needed to be moved. To be fair, some of the men, such as myself, didn't have that type of strength, either, but how could we? Once we finish working at the end of the day, we're all so exhausted that we usually eat dinner then pass out.

I was vaguely aware of Caspar watching me in earnest behind me, but I pushed the attention out of my mind, wondering what possessed me to do this in the first place. I didn't even know Caspar, yet here I was, doing him a favor without him even knowing my name.

Once I finished, I arranged the omelet in an intricate fashion, taking the tomatoes and cheeses that the King preferred, and sticking it in certain spots to create a floral design. I stood back, admiring my work, when Caspar let out a low whistle of appreciation. "Wow. How'd you do that?"

I glanced at him uncertainly, then explained,"I used to be on kitchen staff. I guess I just remembered, after all."

"Cool," he explained, and from the at he said it, I could tell it was actually genuine. Caspar must've been one of those types of people that found everything petty interesting, but then again, wasn't I the one fawning over Tyler's coat a week ago?

"Thanks, I guess, er..."

"Troye," I filled in. "Troye Sivan." I gave him the same name I gave Tyler, as I didn't exactly trust him. He seemed nice and all, but that didn't mean he was one of my best friends, either.