The Merchant's Love

by Antonia Aquilante

  Valentin raised his eyebrows but ultimately shrugged. “So it’s serious between you two?”

  “I—it’s—we kissed.”

  “And?” Valentin drew the word out.

  “And…I don’t know. I like him very much. I want to kiss him again very much. And, yes, I’d like to more than kiss him.”

  “Well, if it’s only been a kiss, it’s hard to know what it might turn into. Sometimes a kiss is nothing.”

  “It wasn’t nothing.” Not to him, and most certainly not to Faelen, with all he’d told Maxen.

  “I didn’t mean nothing, not really. I more meant that sometimes a kiss is a kiss. Enjoyable at the time but not leading to anything more.” Valentin tilted his head to the side and contemplated Maxen for a long moment. “That was a vehement reaction, though.”

  “It’s a little soon,” Maxen said even as a little voice inside whispered that it wasn’t, that he knew Faelen, cared for Faelen, that— He silenced the voice.

  “If you say so. There’s nothing wrong with falling for someone, even a member of the royal family. Even if it means changing plans. Falling for someone is an excellent reason to.”

  “I didn’t say I was falling for him.” He ruthlessly shut that little voice up again. “And I didn’t say I was changing plans. I still mean to travel someday.”

  Someday. He hoped. It wasn’t Faelen’s presence in his life that endangered his desire to travel; it was his family obligations. He refused to leave Tristan to deal with Mother’s increasingly erratic behavior or the family business on his own. Tristan had taken far too much on himself following Father’s death and nearly drove himself into the ground doing it. Maxen wouldn’t let that happen again.

  The thoughts plagued him as he went about the rest of his day. He didn’t want to be resentful of his family or his work. He’d made the decision to stay, and he knew very well that if he did say anything, Tristan would tell him to travel. Which was why he wouldn’t say anything. He had to remember there were other things in Jumelle for him, things he loved—that he wasn’t there only out of obligation. He was doing his part in the business that generations of his family had built. He had places he loved in the city, good friends he couldn’t imagine his life without. He had his siblings. He had Faelen, even if he wasn’t entirely sure what they were to each other, after only one night of kisses.

  It had been an amazing night of kisses.

  He was still feeling off about everything later that night when Faelen arrived. And yet, his heart kicked in his chest—nerves and anticipation and happiness a bright burst in his middle—when he heard the knock on the door.

  He stood as Faelen walked into the parlor, a smile already spreading across his face. Faelen smiled too, his eyes lighting when his gaze latched on to Maxen. Maxen thrilled to see that, but felt a pang of concern too when he saw the tightness around Faelen’s eyes, what seemed to almost be a wince.

  “Hello. I wasn’t sure I’d see you tonight.”

  “I made sure I could come.” Faelen seemed to hesitate for a moment and then walked forward, right into Maxen, and put his arms around him.

  Maxen sucked in a breath, absorbing the punch of Faelen’s words and what they meant, and smiled at the sweet warmth that followed. He held Faelen, pulling his slender body in close. Faelen seemed happy to be there, plastering himself against Maxen and nestling his head against Maxen’s chest. Maxen wanted to kiss him, but he also loved the feel of Faelen cuddled against him, so he lowered his cheek to Faelen’s curls, resting there and breathing in his sweet scent. He could become addicted to that scent, to this feeling so easily. Just having Faelen in his arms calmed him, steadied him.

  “I’m glad you did.”

  “Me too.”

  They stood like that for a few moments more. Then Maxen asked, “Are you all right?”

  Faelen moved back far enough to be able to look up at Maxen. “Why do you ask?”

  Maxen pushed aside his disappointment that Faelen had moved even that small amount and gently rubbed at the lines between Faelen’s eyes. “Because you’re wincing.”

  “Oh. Just a headache.”

  “Bad one?”

  “Middling.” Faelen laid his head against Maxen’s chest. Was it because he wanted to be close or because his head hurt and he didn’t want to hold it up anymore? And why was Maxen suddenly so unsure of himself?

  “You didn’t have to come if you weren’t feeling well.”

  “I already said I wanted to. I just worked too hard today.”

  There was something in Faelen’s voice when he said the last bit. Maybe it was nothing, and Maxen was imagining things. He’d been feeling off today too, if in a different way. “And I want you here, but I don’t like you hurting.”

  “I’ll be fine. I took a potion for it, but it’s being stubborn. I should have rested longer this afternoon.” Faelen didn’t move from his position against Maxen.

  “Well, rest now.”

  “I’m not going to ignore you to nap on your couch. I came to see you.”

  “I didn’t say ignore me. We’ll sit on the couch together, and you’ll close your eyes.” Maxen nudged Faelen and got him moving. They shuffled the few steps to the couch, still holding each other. “Just relax. I can read to you, if you like.”

  Faelen let out a long sigh. “I’d like that.”

  “Good.”

  He maneuvered them down onto the couch, which would have been easier if Faelen had let go, but he didn’t seem to want to, and Maxen didn’t mind. He wished Faelen’s clinginess were caused by something other than an aching head, but he wouldn’t object. They stretched out together with Faelen sprawling half over Maxen, pillowing his head on Maxen’s chest. It felt perfect to be lying tangled together this way and gave him a glimpse of what it might be like if they ever spent a night together. He hoped they’d get there someday, but for now, he was more than content to lie there with Faelen.

  He picked up a book. “This all right?”

  Faelen nodded against his chest, though Maxen wasn’t certain if he’d even opened his eyes, and he smiled.

  He opened the book to the place he’d marked and began to read. After a few moments, he swept his free hand up and down Faelen’s back, then buried it in Faelen’s hair. He began to massage his head. When he’d been sick as a child and his head hurt, Mother had always rubbed it to relax him.

  Faelen purred under the attention. The sound had heat washing through Maxen immediately, but he forced himself to focus on the book. He couldn’t entirely ignore Faelen’s body pressed to his, going almost boneless against him as he read and moved his hand over Faelen’s scalp and through his hair. He couldn’t ignore the longing, the desire to roll them over and sink into Faelen’s kiss, into his arms. But he also couldn’t ignore the utter contentment of just being there, of touching Faelen this way, so easily. He could stay this way all night if Faelen wanted and be happier than he’d ever been. And wasn’t that a frightening thought?

  “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  Faelen managed to hold in the exasperated noise at Philip’s words with sheer force of will and long training that one did not do such things in front of princes. Unfortunately, his will didn’t hold out long enough to keep him from snapping, “I wish everyone would stop asking me that.”

  Even as Faelen cringed, Philip laughed. He sobered quickly, though, and compassion came into his eyes. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have laughed.”

  “Think nothing of it. I shouldn’t have snapped.”

  “We’re family—you’re allowed to express annoyance to me,” Philip said.

  It was a blurry boundary, this line between prince and cousin, which Philip was smart enough to recognize. Faelen supposed he’d get better at it someday. At the moment, he sat across from Philip’s desk in the private study he shared with Amory, called there to discuss what Savarin had done the day before. It didn’t make the line any easier to find.

  “Everyone has been asking you?”
/>   “You. Master Savarin and Captain Loriot. Alexander and Etan. Tristan.” And that was only about what he’d done with Savarin. Someone—often Alexander—always seemed to be asking if he was all right about something. Faelen wasn’t so helpless as all that, was he? “Apparently, I looked off. The headache, I suppose.”

  “Headache?”

  “Not a particularly bad one. I’ve had worse from a long day in the library,”

  “Did you see Jadis?” Concern colored Philip’s voice.

  “No, it wasn’t bad,” he repeated. Though it had been bad enough, and while the food and nap had beat it back some, it had lingered longer than expected. The evening with Maxen had done what the rest couldn’t. By the time he’d reluctantly left Maxen’s house, he was feeling back to normal, if a bit disappointed they hadn’t had more than a light kiss or two to say good night.

  He wouldn’t have traded the time they’d had for anything, though—perhaps what he wanted was more time. Could he have spent the night? Was he ready for that? Would Maxen have liked him to stay?

  “Still.” Philip’s voice snapped Faelen out of his thoughts. “Your headache was caused by Savarin’s spell. A trip to see Jadis might not have been a bad idea.”

  “Is something wrong with Faelen?”

  Faelen hadn’t even heard the door open, but Amory had obviously come in time to hear Philip. Faelen closed his eyes briefly at the honest concern in Amory’s voice. He would not snap at Amory.

  “Best not ask that, love.” Philip’s voice was light, but his eyes held some warning to Faelen. Amory was perfectly able to stand up for himself, but Philip wouldn’t take kindly to anyone who was unpleasant to him.

  “Oh?” Amory came closer and perched on the arm of Philip’s chair, resting a hand on his shoulder, making them a unit. Faelen could see the connection between them especially at moments like this, and he ached suddenly with wanting something like it. “Why not?”

  “Faelen is chafing a bit at everyone’s concern.”

  Faelen frowned at Philip’s words, mild insult washing through him. He made him sound like a petulant child. Or perhaps he was being too sensitive. He couldn’t even tell anymore. “I’m fine, Amory.”

  “Why does everyone think you’re not then?”

  “He came away from Savarin’s spell feeling poorly,” Philip said before Faelen could make light of everything. “I worry about what the magic could have done. You remember how drained some of us were after Savarin’s first go-around with those spells.”

  Amory nodded. “Elodie was in bed for days.”

  “It wasn’t that bad,” Faelen said again. “And I don’t think it was really the magic that did it, not directly. I don’t even think Savarin needed me there. I couldn’t feel him using any connection with my Talent, and I think I would have been able to. Right?”

  Philip nodded. “We could all feel the magic, even if we couldn’t affect it. It was tugging at us and our Talents. It’s difficult to describe.”

  “I didn’t feel anything like that. I knew Savarin was doing something, but it wasn’t pulling at me.” He couldn’t know what Philip had felt back then, but it didn’t sound at all like what had happened to him. “Do you know how when a storm’s coming it feels as if the air is pressing into your head and it makes it ache?”

  Amory nodded.

  “That’s sort of what it was like.”

  He was downplaying the experience slightly as he wasn’t about to tell anyone how unnerved he’d been and risk them making too much of it. He’d even gone to the clearing early that morning, to show himself that everything was the same as it always had been. He’d wandered, on two legs and then four, convincing himself that he was probably just imagining that it seemed different after yesterday. He’d changed back—had his magic been slow to respond again? But he’d yawned as soon as he was man-shaped, so it seemed it was just fatigue. After, he’d returned to his sitting room and settled in with hot chocolate and a book, intent on putting his overreaction out of his head, until Philip had summoned him.

  “And the headache is entirely gone. I feel fine now,” Faelen continued.

  Philip watched him for a moment and then sighed. “If you feel anything other than fine, go see Jadis.”

  “I will.”

  “All right. Good.”

  “Did Master Savarin’s spell work?” Faelen asked.

  “He didn’t tell you?”

  “I assumed he’d want to speak to you first.” Maybe he should have stayed to ask Savarin. He’d shirked some responsibility trying to avoid Savarin and Loriot’s intense concern.

  Philip smiled wryly. Did anyone ever fool Philip? “Savarin believes so. We won’t know if it’s going to work properly until someone attacks the border.”

  “Which, obviously, we would rather avoid entirely,” Amory put in.

  Philip’s lips curved slightly. “Yes, obviously.”

  “I’m glad it went as Master Savarin hoped,” Faelen said.

  “I appreciate your willingness to help,” Philip said.

  Surprise jolted through Faelen. He hadn’t expected that from Philip when Faelen was just doing his part. “Of course, Philip. I was happy to do what I could. I know this could help Tournai.”

  “Still, you have my thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “I won’t keep you from your work any longer,” Philip said.

  Faelen stood, taking the statement for the dismissal it surely was. He should be getting to the archive anyway. “I think I should say I won’t keep you from your work any longer. You’re far busier than I am.”

  “You’ve taken on quite a lot in the archive,” Amory said. “I’d say you’re busy enough.”

  “Busy enough for me at the moment anyway.” Faelen smiled.

  “But you’re finding time to spend with Maxen, right?” Amory’s eyes sparkled.

  “I am. I saw him last night. I’m having lunch with him later too.” He looked at Philip. “I haven’t told him anything. About the spells or our Talents. I wouldn’t.”

  “Do you want to?” Philip asked.

  What was the right answer to that question? Faelen hated to keep something so important from Maxen, but he knew what he had to do. “I’m used to keeping my Talent from everyone. It would have been nice to be able to tell Maxen why my head hurt last night.”

  Philip and Amory both watched him, gazes intent. Finally, Philip spoke. “I know it’s difficult to keep a secret so large from someone you care deeply for, but it isn’t just tradition that requires us to do so. With everything we know now, there are good reasons—for our safety and that of Tournai—to ensure our Talents remain secret. We can’t risk anyone knowing outside the family, even if they seem trustworthy. I know Maxen does.”

  “I understand, Philip. I do. I won’t tell Maxen anything.” Why was Philip even giving him this lecture? He hadn’t done anything to warrant it. Did he have this talk with every Talented member of the family who took a lover?

  “I know you won’t. It would be different if your relationship with him was something permanent.”

  He knew that too. Amory, Flavian, and Tristan all knew of the Talent that ran in the royal family, told by the men they were going to marry. Well, Tristan had found out accidentally, but it had all worked out anyway. “We’re really just beginning. It’s lovely, truly. I just don’t know what else will happen between us. It’s too soon.”

  Was it, though? A traitorous piece of his heart whispered it wasn’t, and Faelen told it to be quiet. He couldn’t imagine any kind of future with Maxen when they’d only shared a few kisses. And when Maxen hadn’t said anything about changing his plans to leave Tournai as soon as he could.

  Philip nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. “If that changes, let me know. We can talk about it more.”

  “I…I will.” Faelen managed to get the words out through his astonishment. “Thank you, Philip.”

  “I think Faelen is serious about Maxen, no matter what he’s saying
,” Philip said after the door closed behind his cousin.

  “I think you’re right.” Amory leaned into Philip’s side. “I don’t know that Faelen realizes it yet.”

  “I suppose the question is how Maxen feels.” The idea of more people knowing their secrets concerned him. He would never forbid any member of his family from telling the person they loved, despite his misgivings. He’d just like to know more.

  “That’s one of them anyway. An important one.” Amory’s fingers trailed along Philip’s neck delicately, and he shivered.

  “I don’t know Maxen very well. Even though he’s Tristan’s brother, a sibling relationship isn’t always an indicator of character.” He could only think of Amory’s older brother, who was in all ways horrible and about as different from Amory as it was possible to be.

  “He’s a good man. He and Tristan are close enough in age that I saw him often when we were growing up,” Amory said as he began combing his fingers through Philip’s hair. “And he’s been so helpful to Tristan lately, both in the business and in family matters. It sounds as if he’s shouldering more than his share of the burden, but he hasn’t said anything in complaint. I doubt he would.”

  “That’s good to hear. I’ll still worry, though, about our secret and about Faelen.” Philip was happy that Faelen and Alexander had moved back to Tournai and into the palace as it gave him a chance to get to know his cousins better. He was fond of both of them, but he found himself somewhat more protective of Faelen.

  “Faelen is fine.”

  “I don’t mean his headache, though I wish he’d gone to Jadis to be checked over. I mean I worry for him with Maxen.”

  “I know what you meant. You need to trust Faelen. If I understand what he was saying earlier, he’s tired of everyone asking after him and treating him as if he’s fragile. Yes, he’s a bit quiet, gentle—inexperienced perhaps when it comes to men—but that doesn’t mean he’s weak. He’s an intelligent, capable man. You’ve seen him at court and working with Etan. You can’t treat him as if he’s a child.”

  Philip jolted. “Was I? I didn’t mean to…”