by R. Cooper
For whatever reason, Prince David had decided that such a spouse would be found in the lavish spectacle tonight, or perhaps at one of the following parties, although only the first three were to be masked.
David looked tired, his smiles a little stiff. Tu studied him hungrily before glancing away when he thought David might turn and see him.
Ridiculous. Tu was masked. But David would not want to see him here. Whatever David might have felt for Tu, friendship with some fondness, some lust, he would be over it now, surely. Tu had not been David’s first lover and would not be the last. That was what tonight was about, after all, in one way or another.
Lady Stephanie did not think so. Lord Hyacinth had barely stopped short of calling Tu a fool.
Tu knew he was. But the wise sort of fool in a tragedy. He could not help falling in love with a sweet, earnest, insightful prince, but princes did not marry booksellers, and, in any event, Tu was not the consort David needed.
Dull, with gray in his hair and softness to his body that spoke of a life at a desk. Tu’s chestnut brown eyes would need spectacles within a year or two, and he was fond of early nights in front of warm hearths. His hair had been his prettiest feature in his youth, but that was mostly because the rest of him was so ordinary.
The young man talking with David now was nearly lovely enough to rival the nervous beauty continuing to hold up the wall by himself.
Tu forced himself to look away. He had done what he came to do; observe the Prince and satisfy the ache that had not let him sleep well for months. Keeping himself turned away from the dais, he slipped from the ballroom, stopping only to grab the elbow of someone in the shining scales of a crocodile and steer them away from the trembling dragonfly.
“Someone was looking for you,” Tu lied with a smile, and only let the smile drop once he was in a corridor occupied by far fewer people.
If the ballroom was for romance and gossip, the corridor seemed to be for more serious political discussions. Politics would factor into David’s marriage as well.
Tu hurried past those engaged in conversation, vaguely aware he was headed in the opposite direction he needed to go if he wanted to leave. Guards were positioned outside several doors, but none of them stopped him when he turned toward another, smaller, dimly lit hallway that must have been for servants. He had no idea where he was, but he was alone, with only a few flickering candles to disturb him. He could close his eyes and wait for the sickness to pass.
If there was one advantage to being older and more experienced, it was knowing that most things were bearable with enough time. He would stay a fool, stay in love, but David would be happy, and someday, a good king.
“Are you all right?” The question echoed down the hall in an achingly familiar voice.
Tu opened his eyes. Prince David closed a curtain behind him, giving Tu a glimpse of several guards and the rest of the royal family, minus the young Princess, on the dais in the bright ballroom. Then the hallway was again dark.
Tu pulled in a breath but was otherwise frozen. He did not deserve David’s kindness now, though it should not surprise him. He did not know what to say, except to ask forgiveness before fleeing.
“I’m sorry.” The words came from David, startling Tu into even more flustered silence. “I needed a moment away, and you seem to have had the same idea. I’ve spoiled your hiding spot.”
“Never,” Tu whispered, the heart in his throat making his voice husky. “You couldn’t spoil anything.”
David held still, his head tilted in question, but finally glanced away. “Because I am the Prince,” he said, with something heavy in his tone. He stopped a few feet from Tu, and though David was not considered short, Tu would have been slightly taller if he had been standing straight. Which Tu abruptly did, since they were not friends anymore, but instead a prince and his subject.
Tu bowed his head, uncertain what court manners required. “Are you well?” He couldn’t help but ask though David would hardly want to speak with him. “I… it is only that you seem tired, Your Royal Highness.” Perhaps that was disrespectful, but Tu could not pretend he did not know what David looked like when wearing himself thin. His voice dropped to a pained whisper. “It must be a lot of pressure, a night like tonight.”
“The life of a king is almost all pressure.” David’s voice was level. Nonetheless, Tu felt chastened. “That is, the life of a good king, who works for his people,” David added, no less serious. He had always been inclined to be earnest, but this felt different. As close to David ever got to being openly bitter. Tu was about to apologize when David continued. “If you say that, you must be one of those here to watch, not to enter the chase.”
Tu frowned as he raised his head, trying to discern David’s meaning although the distant candlelight did not allow him to read David’s expression as he otherwise might have.
Then he realized, and had to look away again in order to breathe. Tu wondered if he had been forgotten so quickly, or if the costume, dim lighting, and the preposterous idea of a bookseller at a royal ball were enough to disguise him even from David’s eyes.
Tu tugged his mask to keep it in place and could do nothing to ease the strain keeping his voice low. “I am too old for His Royal Highness,” he said when it became clear an answer was expected because David did not know who he was. “And too insignificant.” Tu waved a hand toward the direction of the ballroom, wanting to distract David, wishing this moment would not end. “Naturally, they watch. It is their future tied to yours, even without being chosen.”
“You are right,” David admitted on a sigh after a small pause.
Tu wanted to apologize again, although he had only spoken the truth.
“Please don’t be sad,” he heard himself saying, like an infatuated child and not a grown man many years David’s senior.
“It is not sadness,” David answered, though with some surprise.
“You’re tired.” Tu clucked his tongue. He fell back into old habits the moment he was in David’s presence, it seemed. “This is… this is the business of royals, and therefore none of mine. But if it is a consort you are after, this does not seem the most efficient method, unless you are seeking the best dancer.” He stopped short of asking the questions that had preoccupied the entire kingdom for weeks. “I always thought a match would be arranged for you, based on lineage or trade, and a combination of education and social graces.”
“You always thought?” David repeated with interest, only to drop the point, which was alarming in itself. David’s curiosity was not something easily dismissed. “If the requirements are lineage, as well as land or money, that already includes every guest invited. Everyone who chose to come has been raised in the correct, acceptable fashion, and all of them have had opportunities to learn what is necessary if you marry a prince.” The composed, overly polite royal had returned. “This is the most efficient plan.”
To hurry the task along of finding David a suitable spouse.
The lack of feeling in David’s voice for that was almost too much to bear.
“Is that also the reasons for the masks?” Tu demanded in disbelief. “One will do as well as any other?”
David raised his head, surprised or offended. “I don’t believe I caught your name, Sir Cat.”
“Sir Tom, if you please,” Tu answered impatiently, using Lady Stephanie’s nickname for his costume. He tried to look into David’s eyes for some hint of his true desires. “You chose a masquerade, several of them, for a purpose, so I assume names do not matter. But your match should matter, Highness.”
“For the kingdom.”
“For you, too, surely,” Tu argued, though it was likely he was not supposed to argue with the Prince.
David tipped his head to the side again, regarding Tu in a way that sent a shiver through Tu despite knowing better. “No one at this ball expects me to love them,” David informed him gently, as if Tu needed to be comforted and David was not the one in distress and acting recklessly. “And
I do not expect to love them. The price for riches and a crown is responsibility and duty.”
Tu burned with pride and a soft, well-known pain. “Something they often say in books, but I have rarely heard of in practice. Except with you.” He glanced to the side but could not hide his admiration. “You will serve your country so well. But should you not also seek out some happiness for yourself?”
“A prince who is merely content is still more fortunate than most, don’t you think?” David smiled tightly. “Only a fool would ask for anything more.”
A smile from David that did not reveal a dimple was not a real smile.
Tu stepped away from the wall. “But among so many, there must be at least one to make you happy, and not merely suit life around the throne. Why not… why not Flor?”
“Everyone has thought that, for years now. But few ever say it directly.” David’s tone was uncertain. He faced Tu, giving the impression that David was studying him, although he would not be able to see much. Then David appeared to come to a decision. “I need Flor in a way that has nothing to do with a husband. His advice is always sound, even if I end up hurt. Forgive me,” David added before Tu could do more than frown. “You were right to say I was tired. These are all things to be shared with suitors, of course, but in time. Not at the first meeting. I’m sure you came here tonight expecting a party.”
“No, I… I’m not much for parties.” Tu stumbled over the full answer and settled for an incomplete one.
It earned him a half-smile; crooked, genuine, and charming.
“Me neither,” David confessed, making Tu’s chest hurt. “I don’t mind them from time to time. But if I can, I prefer to watch others have fun, while I sit someplace quieter. Maybe with a drink. Usually with… a friend.” His smile slipped.
Tu did not want to see it gone. “A good friend is worth more than their weight in gold,” he agreed gently.
“Yes. I am lucky to have a few I can rely on, even if…” David shook his head once, and left that sentence unfinished. “Tell me, please. If you didn’t come here to try to win a prince, why did you come? Was it really for the spectacle?”
“Of course not.” Tu shook his head. His throat was dry. “Perhaps I just wanted to see a masquerade.”
“So, it’s not a joke?” David asked, grave once more. “They do not think this ludicrous, or me ridiculous?”
Tu shook his head again, although rumors had been wild and varying. “People are curious,” he admitted. “But everyone wants you to be happy. Or at least settled. And, as I said, matters of state concern us all. Did no one else tell you this?”
“Flor.” David shrugged. “But sometimes he tries to make me feel better.”
“I could be doing that, too,” Tu pointed out, though softer and fonder than he would have liked, which he then had to account for. “You seem like a good man, and it pleases me to give you one fewer thing to worry over.”
Instead of appeasing David’s curiosity, that heightened it. David studied him in the shadowed, flickering light, his thoughts hidden by his golden mask. “Were you going to wait in line to speak to me?” he asked at last.
“Oh, no.” Tu’s reply was too quick. “I would never presume,” he tacked on. “You are looking for a suitable consort.”
“And you are too old and insignificant, you said.” David continued to regard him intently.
Tu hoped his costume held up beneath that stare. He turned his head and cleared his throat. “We really do want you to be happy. The announcement surprised many.” It had devastated him, though he had expected it. He just had not expected it so soon. He’d thought he would have years to accept David’s marriage to someone else. “We did wonder at the strangeness of the masked balls, but you are a good prince, and a good man, and you deserve to have your heart’s desire.”
David caught his breath, then straightened. He inclined his head and offered another polite smile. “That will have to remain a desire only, but I thank you for the kind words.”
“Remain?” Tu echoed breathlessly, shocked into raising his voice.
The curtains behind David twitched and then opened, revealing David’s father, the King himself, as a gray wolf.
Tu jerked his head down, not certain if he ought to slink away or bow or wait to do either until the King addressed him. David turned to walk back toward the curtain, and Tu watched him go, silent and frozen. He should have shuffled off before he was noticed, but this was likely his last glimpse of David until the public pomp surrounding his eventual wedding. Tu assumed he was already forgotten, in any case, and his racing heart in his ears left him in a strange, ringing silence filled only with the sound of his pulse and that word, that out of place word from David.
He did finally move back, only a foot or two, but enough to escape attention before the curtain closed behind David.
Except it did not.
David stood in front of the King, hesitating without stepping onto the dais.
“You are not enjoying yourself,” the King observed, voice lowered but just audible where Tu was stock-still against the wall.
“…Doing my best,” David answered.
“You are being polite,” the King returned, but he seemed more worried than admonishing. “We want you to be happy. That’s why it’s this way. You said you didn’t care, but we want you to have the chance to know them. We’re not cruel.”
“I know that.” David tipped his head up, perhaps to look his father in the eye. “Your marriage was based on more than convenience, and I appreciate you wanting the same for me.” David paused, usually a sign he was about to make an unpleasant point. “Why not just learn about them and find the best one? I don’t think I have the heart for false courtship. I’m too honest.”
Tu pulled in a breath, scowling though David couldn’t and wouldn’t ever see.
“David,” a woman’s voice interrupted, making Tu distantly fret that the King and the Queen might notice him at any moment. “We know you do not think of us as romantics, or as daring as you and your friends.” David made a sound of objection, which his mother ignored. “We were allowed to choose, and so will you. It will have to be someone suitable, but you should have a chance for friendship, if not anything else. We discussed this before you embarked upon this plan, do not forget.”
“Suitable is the most important requirement,” David replied without hesitation. “I am well aware. It was a point driven home long before you two thought to remind me of my duty.”
Tu closed his eyes, remembering how David had burst into his rooms as though he had been pushed, his eyes bright, a smile on his face despite his anxious movements and the nervous waver in his voice.
David’s voice was almost lifeless now as he restated what he must have previously discussed with his parents. “We must find someone not just of the proper background to attend these parties and comport themselves appropriately, but someone knowledgeable, who does not mind my interests, even if they do not share them.”
“What about someone to care for you?” the Queen cut in. “If they cared for you, we could teach them the rest of what it means to be married to the Heir. As long as they are suitable.”
“What does that mean?” David pressed, voice growing softer. “Make me laugh? Hold a conversation? Want me more than, or as well as, the crown and all that comes with it? If the rest of the world wants the good prince, someone who chooses me?”
He said it as though it was impossible.
“You can choose them,” the King argued stiffly, like someone deeply uncomfortable with an emotional conversation but having it anyway.
David huffed, with that hint of bitterness that had so startled Tu the first time he’d heard it. “I’ve done that before. Someone far wiser than me, which seemed a good thing, before then. Experience and wisdom to temper my idealism and theory.” Tu opened his eyes to study the tense line of David’s back. “Maybe…” David sighed and dropped his shoulders. “Maybe it was a good thing, the right thing. What had to be
done.”
Even if I end up hurt, he had said about Flor’s advice. But this was not about Flor.
“You may find that again.” The Queen stepped forward to pull David to her, reaching up to stroke his cheek and then straighten his mask. “There are many here tonight, and will likely be more at the next. You have only to speak to them to find out. And if not… we will try something else. But this was your idea, David.”
Tu bit his lip to stifle a shocked sound.
“I know.” David let his mother kiss his brow. “It is a duty and I will get through it. I will… try to smile more. And listen. But I told you from the outset that my heart would not be in it, because it is already taken. I will tell them, too, if they ask. Although, if their goal is the Prince, why should they?”
The heat in Tu’s chest was nothing at all like the hollow ache he had lived with for months. He was not used to anger, not personal anger, hot and shameful like this, and had nothing to do but clench his hands at his sides. His good, kind, wonderful David did not think love compatible with his station. David could be loved, but the Prince could not.
Tu had done that.
David’s mother murmured something against David’s ear that made David nod slowly and then straighten. A moment later, he had joined them on the dais and the curtain had swung closed behind them.
“HE IS MISERABLE,” Tu reported to Lady Stephanie, yanking the cat ears off his head and throwing them onto the settee next to her. He had been unsurprised to find her waiting for him in his bookshop, or for her to follow him upstairs to his rooms. Lady Stephanie, like most of the Prince’s friends, cared little for propriety. “He was supposed to be happy. I was a distraction—a folly. It was best that he was rid of me.”
“Hmm.” Lady Stephanie sniffed the glass of port she’d poured for herself, then took a sip. “You didn’t enjoy the ball, then? Didn’t like seeing David being flattered and fussed over by every unmarried someone in the kingdom?”
