“Would you like to shirk them and come to the theater with me later this week?”
“The theater?” The path opened up into the courtyard in front of the stables, and Faelen stopped to face Maxen.
“Yes. That comedy I mentioned that I heard was good?”
“I remember. Yes, I’d enjoy that.” Was it only surprise that colored his words or reluctance too?
“We could have dinner either before or after if you like.”
“I would. Thank you.”
Maxen’s smile was at least half relief, even if Faelen still seemed surprised. “Wonderful. I have to go, but I’ll write to you?”
“Yes, please do.”
Maxen couldn’t keep himself from watching Faelen walk away, the slender figure strolling along the path and into the trees, back toward his party and the politicking, flirting courtiers that filled it. He didn’t want Faelen to go back—he wanted to stand there and talk with him all day.
He was going to be late for Renaud.
He didn’t move.
Just before Faelen rounded a corner out of sight, he looked over his shoulder and smiled, waving a little when he saw Maxen watching. It was sweet and not exactly in keeping with the image of sophisticated courtier that Faelen presented at court, but Maxen liked the contradictions. He waved back and then turned away as Faelen disappeared from view.
The weather turned again the day after Elodie’s autumn garden party, becoming chillier with the autumn rains. But that didn’t keep Faelen from anticipating seeing the play with Maxen. Previously, they’d mostly exchanged letters and met for lunch or sometimes a pastry and a stroll through the shopping district or market. He’d worried over this new outing briefly, wondering what Maxen might be thinking, might expect, but nothing indicated that Maxen wanted anything other than friendship, and Faelen wanted his in return.
They’d arranged to meet at Maxen’s house in the evening and go on to dinner and then the theater together. He’d never been to the house, but he found it easily with Maxen’s directions. He left his horse with the servant outside and trotted up the few stairs to knock at the door. A maid answered and ushered him inside before taking his coat. She showed him into the front parlor and left to tell Maxen he’d arrived.
Faelen wandered the room while he waited, feeling only slightly wrong for studying it to learn about Maxen. He wasn’t searching through drawers or looking at anything that wasn’t on display, though. He was just intensely curious about how Maxen lived, so he avidly took in the comfortable cushions on the furniture and a book on a small table near a chair by the window. He was going over to see what book it was when Maxen bounded into the room.
“Sorry! Have I kept you waiting long?”
Faelen jumped a little and willed his racing heart to slow. “Not at all. I just got here a few minutes ago.”
“Good. Would you like a drink? Or should we go to dinner?”
They’d hopefully given themselves enough time for dinner before the play, but Faelen didn’t want them to miss the beginning. Besides, he was getting hungry. “All right if we go to dinner?”
“Perfectly.” Maxen smiled and gestured for Faelen to precede him into the hallway. “I had somewhere in mind if you’ll trust me.”
“Of course.”
Maxen looked pleased, but he turned quickly and took his coat from the maid. As he shrugged into it, she handed Faelen his. “I think you’ll like the place. The food is excellent.”
“Let’s go, then.”
They set out on foot, which would make it easier to navigate portions of the city and not have to worry about stabling the horses. They chatted idly as they walked, exchanging information about their days—or whatever Faelen could share since he’d been researching for Savarin today.
Faelen tried to pay attention to where they were going, but Maxen was taking him into a part of the city he was less familiar with. He thought they were on the edge of the market district, but the side that was closest to the river, not the area he usually frequented. They left the larger street and turned into something that was barely more than an alley lined with old stone buildings. Maxen went to the third door on the right side and opened it for Faelen.
Faelen rocked back on his heels. From the quiet alley, he would never have expected the chaos inside. It was crowded and noisy, and the scent of food had Faelen’s mouth watering. Maxen’s hand pressed against Faelen’s back, and he jumped slightly.
“All right?” Maxen asked over the noise.
“Fine. I didn’t expect the crowd.”
Maxen frowned. “We don’t have to stay if it’s too much. It’s probably not what you’re used to, but Malo makes wonderful seafood, so I thought you might like to give it a try.”
“I do.” He ignored what Maxen said about what he was used to and glanced around. “Is there room for us to squeeze in somewhere?”
“I’m sure there is.” Maxen looked past Faelen and waved at someone.
A moment later a large man in an apron bustled over. “Master Maxen! Good to see you tonight.”
“Hello, Malo. How are you?”
“I’m well. Except for my knees aching in this damp, but what can you do?” He shrugged, grinning good-naturedly. “But you want a meal for you and your friend, yes?”
“Please.”
“Come, follow me.” He led them through the small room, threading expertly between the crowded tables, some long and communal, some smaller and separate. It was to one of the latter that they were taken. The table was tucked into a corner and barely big enough for the chairs at it, but Faelen didn’t mind. He sank into one and thanked Malo, with Maxen following suit, and the owner bustled away, promising to bring them wine and food.
Faelen looked at Maxen across the table. “We didn’t tell him what we wanted.”
“They only make one dish each day, depending on what seafood and vegetables they get at the docks and the market. I’ve never had a bad meal here.”
Faelen shrugged out of his coat and laid it over the back of the chair. It would probably be fine since he was wedged into the corner. “How did you even find it? I never would have guessed this was here.”
“My father brought me and Tristan. I have no idea how he found it, but he came often. Malo always recognized him, and then us when we came in with him.” Maxen’s eyes went slightly sad, and Faelen found himself wanting to reach across the table and take his hand to try to ease his grief, but he wasn’t sure how Maxen would react.
“You must have good memories of him here.”
“I do. I didn’t come for a while after he died, but when I did, I was glad. And Malo came right up to me and asked where I’d been for so long. Now, it’s just a good memory, a place I shared with Father.”
The choice of where to eat seemed somehow more meaningful now. Or maybe it wasn’t. Maybe Maxen brought all his friends here, and it meant nothing that he’d chosen to bring Faelen—only the desire to have a reliably good meal before they went to the play. He wished he knew. “Thank you for sharing it with me.”
Malo arrived back at their table and settled a plate in front of each of them, a girl following him with wine. They disappeared as quickly as they’d come. Faelen looked down at his plate and breathed in the glorious scent of the food, his stomach growling. The pile of octopus and vegetables over creamy rice had to be more than one person could eat. Faelen wanted to try, though. He’d missed octopus, as it wasn’t commonly eaten in Teilo.
Maxen smiled. “Eat. I hope you enjoy it.”
“I don’t see how I couldn’t.” But he obeyed Maxen’s urging and took a bite. And almost moaned. “This is so good. I don’t think I’ve ever had better.”
Maxen’s smile turned into the brilliant, happy one Faelen liked so much. “I’m glad.”
They didn’t talk much during dinner. Faelen was content to eat the excellent meal, comfortable in Maxen’s company. When they’d finished—Faelen eating every bite of food on the plate, something he hadn’t thought po
ssible—Malo returned, and Faelen lavishly praised the food.
Malo laughed and turned to Maxen. “Bring him back. I like him.”
Maxen insisted on paying for dinner over Faelen’s protests and then pushed him, still protesting, out into the empty alley. The chilly air was startling after the warmth of the crowded room, and it silenced Faelen long enough for Maxen to get him moving toward the theater. He threw Maxen a look that he hoped expressed his disgruntlement and hunched into his coat. But Maxen only laughed, carefree and loud.
Faelen heard a lot of his laughter that evening. Their seats for the play were good, and it was every bit as funny as everyone had been saying. Faelen couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed himself breathless, and something told him Maxen needed it just as much.
Afterward, still laughing, they spilled out the theater doors with the other theatergoers. Discussion of the play occupied them as they navigated the now quieter streets to Maxen’s house. When they reached it, Faelen felt the sudden sinking sensation of disappointment. He didn’t want the evening to end.
“Come in for a drink?”
“Oh. Um, yes, I’d like that.” He followed Maxen inside. The same maid appeared to take their coats, and after giving them to her, they returned to the parlor.
“We could have gone to a tavern on the way back, but I’d had enough of loud, crowded places. I hope you don’t mind.” Maxen went to the liquor cabinet and pulled out glasses. “I should have asked earlier.”
“Not at all.” More crowds would have been a little much, and certainly most taverns would be crowded at this time of night, with the theaters emptying. “I don’t mind some quiet.”
Maxen walked over and handed him a glass of plaire, Tournai’s distinctive golden-colored liquor. “Here you are.”
“Thank you.” Faelen looked up at Maxen for a moment, a moment that felt more awkward than any they’d ever spent together, as if something strange and tense was between them. But what and why? Faelen gave himself a firm mental shake. “I’m going to investigate your bookshelves.”
Maxen laughed and flopped onto the couch. “Investigate away. I’ll even let you borrow something if you like.”
“Dangerous words. Maybe I won’t want to give them back.”
“Stealing books, Lord Faelen? I never would have imagined it.”
Faelen laughed, and it felt good, as all his laughter had that night. The awkwardness melted away, along with Faelen’s worries. He loved that about spending time with Maxen—he could forget his concerns, or maybe even trust Maxen with them. With a light heart, he turned to the bookcase and the potential treasures within.
Chapter Eight
For a simple evening with a friend, the theater outing left Maxen happier than it should have. Which wasn’t something he wanted to think about too much. Faelen didn’t seem enamored of the courtiers who flirted with him, but Faelen also didn’t seem interested in Maxen that way. Maxen couldn’t hope for anything except friendship. He reminded himself of it daily—and then he wrote another note to Faelen. And then they had lunch or dinner or discussed another book.
Maxen had to accept that he and Faelen would remain as they were, and if he couldn’t, then he should probably end their association immediately. It would do neither of them any good for him to pine over Faelen. But when Maxen thought about cutting ties with him, it was like a punch to the gut. Faelen had become important to him in the course of not quite a full season, as close if not closer to him than Valentin. He couldn’t remember ever developing such an intense connection so quickly. Maybe he never had. He would just have to put his attraction aside for good because he was never giving it up.
Maxen hated that he was running late. He disliked it in general, and even more so when he was meeting Faelen. Faelen would wait for him, but he hated for him to have to, and he didn’t want to waste one moment of the short time he had with him today, especially since it had been a few days since their theater outing.
But he also felt guilty at being so resentful that he was late. Thierry had needed him, and Maxen couldn’t begrudge him that, especially when it was because Mother was being difficult about what Thierry was interested in studying. Maxen had done his best to help, but he’d have to work on Mother some more. At least Thierry was calmer.
Still, Maxen could wish for more time. He and Faelen had been busy this week, and sneaking in lunch was the best they could do. It might have been enough with anyone else, but it was Faelen. Maxen wanted to see him all the time, wanted to talk with him every day because it made everything clearer.
Maxen hurried into the park, taking the path to their usual meeting spot. He hadn’t had time to stop and buy lunch for them even though it was his turn, but it was really too cold to eat outside anyway. They’d have to go to one of the nearby eating houses and make new plans and traditions over the winter. Wasn’t it wonderful that they had traditions already?
Faelen was already there, but Maxen stopped and just stared for a moment. Faelen was sitting on the bench with several squirrels scurrying around at his feet as he tossed something to them from a little bag. He wore rich brown and rust velvet with a scarf wound around his neck and thin leather gloves on his slender fingers. He was hatless despite the cold, and the sun gleamed on his hair, making the dark curls glow red. And he was smiling, laughing at the antics of the animals at his feet, even talking to them a bit, urging them to be patient because there was more.
The bottom just fell out of Maxen’s stomach. Faelen was beautiful
He turned then, and his smile widened. “Hello.”
Maxen swallowed against the lump in his throat and searched for words. “Are you feeding the squirrels?”
A laugh cascaded from Faelen. “I am. Help me feed them the last of this and then we can find our lunch?”
Faelen looked so happy that Maxen could only agree.
One evening, some days later, Maxen was stretched out on the parlor couch, trying to concentrate on a book. It should have been a perfect night for reading—he had a crackling fire to keep away the chill, a cozy blanket, a glass of wine, and a plate of cookies—but too much was buzzing around in his mind to let him relax. Some of it was serious, some of it decidedly not, but all of it was distracting. So Faelen’s appearance was an unexpected and welcome diversion.
He came into the room unannounced, though Maxen had heard the knock at the door. The maid had answered (he’d told Pia she could stop working for the evening, but she and the cook had definite ideas about how his house should be staffed, and he’d learned to give in on certain things), and Maxen looked up at the sound of the first footfall. He scrambled to sit up and untangle himself from the blanket—only tangling himself in it further—and wobbled for a moment, somehow managing not to fall off the couch.
His cheeks heated, but he forced himself to pretend it hadn’t happened. “Faelen!”
Faelen said nothing for a moment, his mouth slightly open, and then he laughed, his lips curving into a sweet smile. “I hope you don’t mind my arriving uninvited.”
“You’re always welcome.” Maxen finally succeeded in getting himself sitting up properly. “Come in. Sit, please. Can I get you some wine?”
Faelen shook his head. “Not right now. Thank you.”
Maxen studied Faelen as he walked over and seated himself next to Maxen on the couch. His movements were as graceful as ever, but something wasn’t quite right about his demeanor. He leaned over and retrieved Maxen’s book from the floor, turning it to read the title. “Oh, this is new, isn’t it? What do you think so far?”
Maxen hadn’t gotten more than a few pages in, as distracted as he was, and he’d only bought the book that day. “I’m enjoying it so far. I bought you a copy too. I was going to send it to you tomorrow.”
Faelen turned to him, surprise and pleasure in his eyes. It was a small enough gift, but from the look on Faelen’s face, it was as if he’d brought him diamonds or something equally valuable. “Thank you.”
“Y
ou’re welcome.” Maxen ached so much to kiss him in that moment as the firelight teased out the red in Faelen’s hair and reflected in his large, wide eyes. Instead, he leaned over and retrieved the other copy of the book from the table and handed it to Faelen. “Is everything all right?”
Faelen looked down at the books in his hands, stroking his fingers over the cover of one, tracing the lettering of the title. “Yes, but it’s been a difficult couple of days. More than that, really. There was a lot I didn’t know was going on until recently.”
Maxen straightened, even more confused and still concerned, and put a hand on Faelen’s sleeve, waiting until he looked at him. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“I suppose. Have you met Philip’s cousin, Bastien?”
He had a hazy picture in his head that he thought was the man. “The earl of Ardesia? At the wedding, I think. What’s happened?”
“It’s going to be all over the city by tomorrow, so it’s probably fine if I tell you. Not that I think you would gossip about it.”
Why did Faelen’s words irk him? Was it because Faelen hadn’t already told him about whatever it was? Or because he thought Maxen would gossip about it? “I wouldn’t.”
“I know.” Faelen patted his hand. “It isn’t really mine to tell. I didn’t even know until recently, and apparently Bastien only brought the matter to Philip just after the wedding. Alexander is more than a little annoyed at being kept in the dark, but we can’t expect to be told everything Philip knows just because we live at the palace.”
And that put Maxen in his place. He hated the idea of keeping secrets, but how could he expect Faelen to tell him everything when there were things he himself wasn’t always privy to?
“Bastien received something indicating that the death of his parents and Philip’s wasn’t an accident,” Faelen continued.
At those words, Maxen’s attention was forced back to Faelen. He had to have misunderstood. “Are you saying Prince Philip’s parents were murdered?”
The Merchant's Love Page 10
