The Tales of Two Seers

by R. Cooper

  “Every unmarried someone of suitable birth,” Tu corrected, and turned away without answering. He caught sight of himself in the looking-glass, black stockings and waistcoat, black coat and silly mask, and tore the mask away to stare at his reflection: the beginnings of crow’s feet at his eyes, the long strands of silver that did not lie flat with the rest of his hair. “I thought he might marry Flor,” he admitted. He had been prepared for Flor.

  Lady Stephanie snorted. “They had plenty of chances before you came along, and neither of them seemed willing. The only one I have ever seen capture David’s attention was you.” Tu opened his mouth to remind her he was a bookseller, and of sometimes scandalous and inflammatory books, at that. Lady Stephanie did not allow the interruption. “You don’t see what you are, Tu. He did. But if you don’t value his opinion, then maybe you don’t belong anywhere near him. But… I tend to think you do.”

  Tu’s arguments, so firm when he had started out his evening, were slippery and difficult to hold onto now. David still loved him. Impossible, but apparently true, though Tu had done nothing to deserve it.

  “I am too old for him,” he declared at last in a faint voice.

  “Didn’t bother him before, as I recall.” Lady Stephanie’s shrug was elegant disdain. Her wink was obscene. “So, that’s not the real issue, is it?”

  David had known it could never be. Yes, he was full of radical ideas that Hyacinth and Flor encouraged, but this was not a fairy tale. There were limits in the real world. David must have known that. But he believed. That was what made him so wonderful, why his people loved him though he was quiet and bookish if left on his own. He believed, and that faith shined out of him.

  Tu had basked in it and worried over it. He had long ago realized that David’s energy had a cost. He had slipped David water, or tea, or brandy, as needed. Fed him sandwiches and fruit. And, after David had kissed him for the first time, his gaze warm and wanting, Tu had taken to calming him by other means. Kisses, or scratching lightly along David’s back while David was curled up in his bed with a book, or pinning David’s wrists to the mattress and giving him everything in exchange for how David trusted him, how sweetly he asked for what he wanted.

  Tu didn’t wish to think of that now, of David coming into his rooms to kiss him, hurried because he said to had to return to the palace for his sister’s birthday. Kissing Tu again before saying, all at once, “I thought you might like to come with me. As my guest. So they—she—can meet you.” As though Tu would be welcome among the royal family.

  David had thought the difference in their stations could be overcome. That his family, that his country, would accept their relationship. That it had a future.

  “What did happen between you that day?” Lady Stephanie broke unto Tu’s reverie with unusual gentleness. “David does not speak of it, not even to Flor.”

  David had apologized for bothering Tu and walked out, never to return.

  Tu flinched away from what he’d said, words designed to drive the Prince away. David had remembered them. That was now perfectly clear.

  “I was sensible,” Tu informed her, voice even weaker than before.

  For several moments, Lady Stephanie stared at him. Then she drained her glass and rose to her feet. “David will do what is right even if it kills him. Flor had to push him to make him be selfish, to make him admit he wanted to be. And then… you were sensible.” She expressed her disgust with one raised eyebrow. “Scared, you mean.”

  Tu met her eyes. “He does not think he can be loved as he is, both man and prince.”

  “I guess you’ll have to fix that,” the lady declared without mercy, and kissed him on the cheek. “You will, won’t you?”

  “He might not still want me.” David had no reason to. Even if he loved, he did not have to forgive.

  “But he doesn’t want any of them, either.” Lady Stephanie paused, then added archly, “And he is miserable,” before she swept from the room and left Tu with his memories, and the knowledge that he had never been able to see David unhappy, and was so obvious about it that their friends had noticed.

  THE SECOND masked ball had a different theme. Tu discovered this when Lord Hyacinth, smug and knowing, had loaned him the kit of a black-and-white harlequin. Tu had thought he would stand out too much in such an outfit, but the ballroom was a sea of black and white, like being lost among chess pieces.

  Tu’s stomach was tied in a knot. He had not eaten since the night before, though his nerves were pointless. He should not have come. David might not want the others, but he could not want Tu anymore, and had no doubt forgotten his chance meeting with a cat at the first ball a fortnight ago. Tu could not even be recognized, as he had bound up his hair and chosen a mask that covered his entire face. This whole endeavor was foolish.

  But it was David, and if it meant seeing him again, Tu had to be here. He moved between groups, and avoided the dais which was currently absent of any princes. Somewhere to his right, Lady Stephanie was holding court over a group of enraptured young men. Tu had tried to hide among them, but the lady had shooed him away.

  Tu did not belong among any other groups, though he had often mingled with the nobility in places like Lord Hyacinth’s house. He nodded blankly when some talked of fashions, and smiled when others complimented his unusual mask, and was forced to correct one or two for offering opinions on parts of the country they had clearly never been to. He did his best to treat them as mistaken customers and not arrogant fools.

  This netted him several offers to dance that he only narrowly escaped, and which he happened to catch the Lady Stephanie grinning about.

  No calmer than he had been at the start of the evening, Tu again looked to the dais, and this time was struck silent to find David there, all in black except for a crown of white paper roses and a white cravat. His dark mask once again only covered his eyes. He was smiling widely, happily, at someone, and for a moment, Tu’s heart stopped before he followed David’s gaze to see Flor holding hands with a blushing man in white.

  “Excuse me,” Tu said to whoever was still talking to him, and walked a straight line to David as though no dancers, no other suitors existed.

  David was so very beautiful, especially when he smiled. Tu stumbled on the steps up, drawing attention, but, at this moment, for him, there was only David.

  “You seem in better spirits,” he breathed, remembering to drop his voice just in time. “I am pleased to see it, Your Royal Highness.”

  The suitor about to present themselves would have to wait.

  David focused on Tu, silent and curious. “Here again?” he asked after a beat, some of his smile staying in place. “I thought your curiosity would have been appeased by the first masked spectacle.”

  “Ah,” said Tu, a nervous stall that hopefully was not too recognizable. “That is… I have decided,” he was a fool, but at least a safely disguised one, “to try being a participant.”

  David’s head went back, not far, but enough to give away his surprise. The others with him seemed very still, but Tu kept his eyes on David. In return, David watched him as if Tu’s mask would tell him something. “Despite what I said?” David asked finally, soft.

  “What did you say?” Flor wondered.

  “I imagine that is between them,” said Flor’s companion, even softer than David. Somehow, this drew Flor’s attention instantly.

  David reached up to touch his mask as if he wanted to remove it. “Why?” David continued. “I would think that would have put you off, especially if you were already inclined to avoid a crown, or anyone wearing one.”

  “That is the sticky bit,” Tu admitted. The thing that had kept him awake every night and distracted him during every day. “It is simply that, while I think I have no business as a consort, I believe I might... I might make an acceptable husband. And perhaps that is your true need.” For no one else would he have said these words. But he would wear the mask, and try, if it offered the chance to make David smile. First, however
, he had more to say. Words Lord Hyacinth had drilled into him. “I am no different from anyone else here, not where it matters. You are still searching for such a spouse, are you not?”

  “Yes.” David answered as if fascinated.

  Tu went up another step, moving bravely forward because, if not David, Flor would expect it, and Tu could not give himself to one without also giving himself to all of the royal family, or those considered family.

  “This is not a proposal of marriage. Not yet. I am one of many, hidden behind a mask. I compete only to win more conversations,” he touched the cheek of his mask, “and a chance to remove this, someday, and hope you will not be disappointed.”

  Lord Hyacinth had not told him to say that.

  David wet his lips. “Well said.” Tu wondered if the others had all immediately attempted words of love, or only cold practicality. David seemed almost breathless. “What if I like you but find I cannot love you?”

  Tu put a hand to his heart, but nodded. “A possibility I accept, but find improbable, if you don’t mind me saying. Not because I am brilliant or handsome, but because you are a loving man. That is always said of you, and I have seen nothing to make me think otherwise.”

  David was again silent for several moments, his lips staying softly parted. “Forgive me,” he said when he recovered, “it’s just that I am no longer used to such quiet honesty.”

  “This took some doing,” Tu confessed in relief. “Sleepless nights and many restoratives. But you are worth it. You should know that, if nothing else.”

  “What is your name?” David asked, then seemed to bring himself up short. “Oh yes. It’s a masked ball, and you will not say.”

  “One is the same as any other,” Tu reminded him.

  David frowned and shook his head. “That’s not why I asked for masks. It’s so I don’t look for…” He stopped, glancing back to Flor, who was observing this but also petting the hand of his companion. David turned around again, looking over the ballroom, and then Tu again. He raised his head, every inch a prince. “Would you like to dance with me?”

  “You’re not already spoken for?” Tu asked, startled, though he had not seen the Prince dance with anyone at either masquerade.

  “No.” David extended his hand.

  Tu was as flustered as the first time he had run into David at Lord Hyacinth’s house. David’s hand was bare, although Tu’s was not. He thought people were whispering. He and David had never done this, even as friends. Conversation and debate, and drinking in pubs, long, private talks, and then, eventually, kisses. Never this. “Would you like to lead?”

  The weight of David’s gaze stole his breath. David slowly shook his head.

  Lady Stephanie had made Tu practice this, something he was grateful for now, because, without checking, he assumed too many eyes were on them as they joined the others on the dancefloor. Tu barely remembered to bow before they were dancing.

  No lively country dances, not for a royal ball. Tu passed behind David, taking his hand again, and looked up only because if he looked at his feet, he would stumble.

  “I am not very experienced at this sort of dancing,” he confessed quietly. The children of the upper classes should have grown up learning all the songs, all the steps. Tu was admitting he was not one of them. He circled David again, their clasped hands above them. His other hand brushed the small of David’s back, then rested briefly at David’s waist.

  “I don’t mind a few missteps.” The words were expected, the warm hitch in David’s voice was not.

  Tu met David’s unapologetic stare until David stepped away for the next part of the dance. Tu didn’t know whether he should be jealous of himself or elated, but the rush of pleasure at knowing he had sparked that reaction in David made him risk another touch when David returned to him, even though the entire court might have been watching.

  David took Tu’s hand again, fleetingly, and Tu regretted wearing gloves, regretted everything that had kept him from David in the first place. He stumbled, but recovered. David only stepped in closer, exactly as the dance demanded. But his gaze was watchful and curious, and he parted his lips when Tu again placed a hand at his waist, this time firmly.

  Tu was jealous of himself, of a masked stranger, and also flushed with pleasure at one small sigh from his prince. He leaned in from habit, ready to reward David as he so often had, and the song ended. The fading music spared him from the humiliation of trying to kiss David—the Prince—while masked, in the middle of so many people.

  Tu pulled back sharply, removing his hands to his sides, and the crowd around them swept in to fuss over David and demand his attention with chatter and questions.

  Too many mistakes in only one dance. Tu had allowed the confidence of his friends to persuade him that happiness was within reach. As if he could have pleased David with that show, or impressed the King and Queen.

  He shot an anxious glance to the dais, where, of course, David’s parents now stood, observing Tu’s folly.

  Tu ducked his head in a pale imitation of a proper bow and stepped backward through the crowd until he could safely turn and head anywhere else but the ballroom.

  “Was it the crowd?” The question came from behind him, in David’s voice.

  Tu stopped in the middle of a corridor, glancing first at the few nobles and servants not far from him before he spun around to watch David approach.

  “You said you were not much for parties.” David lowered his voice as he grew closer, though the people near them were no less curious.

  “You remember that?” Tu asked, then tossed his head. “A crowd is one thing. A royal family quite another. I did not think of that. I did not want to think of that.”

  “You had to know there was a chance you would meet them.” David stopped, close enough to allow them to whisper. “And that you would have to once again brave a mob of guests. Yet you came here tonight.” David’s gaze was light and heavy all at once. “For me.”

  Tu dropped his head to consider the floor. “Hardly slaying a dragon.” There was no help for Tu, because if David needed a dragon slayed, Tu thought he might attempt it.

  David inched closer, bringing Tu’s head up in both alarm and hunger.

  “Is that your reason for the mask? That mask?” David gestured to the felt covering all of Tu’s face. “Shyness?”

  “No,” Tu answered honestly. “Although it helps.”

  The wrinkle in David’s brow was visible above his slender mask. “Would you like to know my reason for asking for them? Why I wanted masquerades?”

  Tu nodded without thinking. “But why tell me? There are others here who would also like to know.”

  “Because I promised myself that I would tell the truth to anyone who decided to go after me in earnest. They would have a right to know. You are the first to speak plainly, and the first to make me feel—make me feel that I could speak plainly in return and you would understand.” David’s frown did not ease, but he met Tu’s stare. “The masks are to keep me from looking for a particular face.”

  Tu’s knees were decidedly weak. “I see.”

  “Do you?” David studied him intently. “Do you still think me loving, capable of finding happiness with someone else?”

  Tu huffed in disbelief, hot and perspiring in his mask, absolutely unworthy of David’s steadfast heart.

  Yes. Tu had so much to say that it caught in his throat. “Yes,” he repeated aloud. “You cannot help but love people. It might not be the same as what you feel now. You might not want it to, because waking up alone, and dreading lonely nights, and constantly, constantly worrying that he is well, that someone is taking care of him, that is still something of him. Isn’t it? Something to keep when there is nothing else. You might lash yourself for everything you said or did, or didn’t do, and look for his face, because you do not want to forget.” Tu pulled in a shaky breath. “But you should be happy again, and if the old love does not fade, a new love might still form, and be stronger.”


  David was motionless.

  Tu looked into his eyes. “I am an expert in being left behind,” he confessed that which he had never told David, though he did not go into the details of being young and thinking a noble son attending the University might want more than to share a bed with a humble bookseller. He swallowed. “So much of an expert, I pushed someone away so they could not do it to me. But now here I am. With you.”

  “You liar,” David murmured. Tu flinched, thinking David had realized it was only Tu behind this mask. Then David smiled. “You told me you were insignificant. You seem quite wise to me.”

  “Wisdom is gained through committing foolish acts and then living with them,” Tu replied with false loftiness. He didn’t like his own words, so he added, “I am older than you, and full of regret, and more inclined to quiet evenings at home. But I did not mind our dance, and I think your friend favors me.”

  “Flor favors anyone who makes me smile,” David answered bluntly. “You could have another dance,” he went on, not precisely coaxing or suggestive. Hopeful. But that word made Tu’s heart beat faster. So did David’s next sentence, though the reason for it was vastly different. “More than that, however, and my parents will want to meet you.”

  Tu blanched behind his mask. “That’s terrifying.”

  “It’s a lot to ask.” The note of hope was still there in David’s voice. “Even from the people who want to marry a prince.”

  He destroyed Tu so effortlessly.

  “David,” Tu whispered, then tensed. That was his voice, not a stranger’s. That was how Tu said David’s name in bed, full of longing and praise for everything David gave him.

  David’s breath hitched like it had during their dance.

  For several moments, neither of them spoke. Then David tightened his mouth.

  “You said you weren’t good enough.”

  The quiet statement was not at all what David ought to have said.