The Merchant's Love

by Antonia Aquilante

“Hush. I don’t need everyone in the store hearing.” He doubted it mattered, except there were always rumors and stories flying around about the royal family and the higher nobility. He’d rather he and Faelen not become one at this point.

  “Sorry. But you like him?”

  “I do, very much.” Such pale words for so much emotion.

  Thierry watched him for a moment, so thoughtful for someone barely thirteen, before smiling. “I’m surprised, but I’m glad.”

  “Why are you surprised?”

  “Because you work, and you’re with us or your friends, but you’ve never said anything about a sweetheart before.” He shrugged. “I assumed you weren’t interested in finding anyone.”

  He hadn’t been, and he wasn’t quite sure what to do about it yet either. “Sometimes these things find you. You’ll see someday.”

  Thierry scoffed as only someone his age could. Maxen didn’t know of any infatuations Thierry might have had, though perhaps he hadn’t found anyone who interested him in that way yet or perhaps he wouldn’t. No way to know at this point unless Thierry said something.

  “So would he like any of these?” Thierry turned his attention to the shiny contents of the tray.

  Maxen began to look more seriously. The tray the jeweler had brought contained an assortment of hair combs and clips. He didn’t know what would be most useful to Faelen—he didn’t know anything about what to do with long hair, as he’d always kept his too short to pull back in even a stubby tail. Selene would have been useful for advice, but he would’ve had to explain about Faelen, and he wasn’t ready to do that yet, not to her. Besides, she might have been able to tell him what each clip was used for, but her tastes and Faelen’s weren’t the same.

  He’d seen Faelen wear combs more than anything else, so he would look at those. Ones that reminded him of Faelen.

  Thierry ran a fingertip over a large gold comb set with glittering stones. “Selene would like this one.”

  “I don’t think that’s the one for Faelen. It’s a bit…much.”

  “That’s why Selene would like it.”

  Maxen laughed softly. Selene did like things a little on the extravagant side. “Quality and beautiful work, but not flashy. Elegant.”

  Thierry nodded seriously, obviously taking in everything Maxen was saying. “Not that then, or those.”

  He nodded as Thierry discarded options based solely on the fact that they were too heavily decorated. Then Maxen discarded a few as too simple or just not right.

  “A few more options for you, gentlemen.” The shopkeeper laid out three more sets of combs on the velvet covering the tray.

  Maxen’s gaze went to them, skipping over the first pair with large rubies that seemed to drip from the combs. He picked up one of the combs from the second set to examine the fine, delicate thing. It was elegant, of silver filigree with little pearls and pale-green stones. The pearls gleamed in the light, but what really caught his eye were the glittering green stones.

  “Peridot?”

  The shopkeeper nodded. “Yes, not as valuable as the emeralds, of course, but they make an interesting combination with the pearls and the silver. Unique.”

  They were the color of Faelen’s eyes. “Fae is that.”

  Thierry leaned closer. “Pretty. Selene would think they were too plain, but they’re not really plain at all.”

  “No, they’re not.” They just weren’t too much. “And the combination of stones isn’t something I’ve ever seen before. Yes, I think Fae would like these.”

  “Shall I box them for you, sir?”

  He looked at the comb in his hand, imagined it in Faelen’s hair, the little stones sparkling in the light that made Faelen’s curls glow red. Imagined himself pulling it from Faelen’s hair and watching the curls tumble down again.

  “Yes, please.”

  When they were back out on the street again, Maxen slung an arm around Thierry’s shoulders. He’d hit another growth spurt and was gaining on Maxen. “Thanks for being patient while I did that.”

  Thierry shrugged. “I don’t mind. And I’m with you, so Mother can’t be mad if I’m later than she expected.”

  “She could just be mad at both of us.” But they hadn’t taken so long that Thierry would be late.

  Thierry just nodded, not laughing as Maxen had hoped.

  “You won’t mention Faelen to Mother?”

  Now, Thierry laughed, an incredulous edge to it. “No. You get to do that yourself.”

  Thierry’s words came out with a level of vehemence that shocked Maxen for a moment and then just made him sad. “How is everything there?”

  “It’s the way it always is. Though Mother is spending a lot of time scheming to find Selene a husband. I think she’d like Tristan to take responsibility for it.”

  Which Tristan wouldn’t do because he refused to shove their sister into a marriage for the sake of marrying her off. Tristan wanted her happiness too, especially after the unhappiness of his own first marriage.

  “She’d only try to take control anyway.”

  Thierry nodded, too old for his years. “She’ll be annoyed either way.”

  “How does Selene feel?” He should know that himself, but he hadn’t spent much time with Selene or Mother lately; he’d let Faelen distract him. He’d tried to keep up with his brothers, though.

  “She wants to make a good marriage.”

  Yes, but was it because she saw that as the only path, a view reinforced by Mother? Or because she wanted a husband and a house of her own? He wished he knew. He’d tried to ask her once, but she seemed horrified, so he let it go. He hoped for a happy marriage for her, and would do everything he could—whatever that was—to make that happen.

  “I know she does. Has Mother said anything about possibilities?” Maxen shook his head. “Has Selene said anything about anyone she’s interested in?”

  “No. But they’ve been making lists of men. I’m not sure how they intend to meet half those people.” Thierry slid a mischievous glance in his direction. “Though you’ve managed to snare a member of the royal family, so who knows?”

  “Funny.” Maxen bumped Thierry and ruffled his hair, laughing when he made a disgusted sound. “How are things for you three?”

  “All right.” Thierry shrugged. “Same as always, except Mother is more preoccupied with Selene’s marriage prospects than how school is or where we go after or who our acquaintances are.”

  “She’s asking who your friends are?” How long had that been going on?

  “And what we do with them and where we go.” Thierry’s voice was resigned, which Maxen hated. “She’d sit us down and ask us every day. I think that’s why she likes when you get me from school.”

  “Because you’re not out with anyone she doesn’t approve of.” Anger snapped through him when Thierry nodded. It wasn’t unreasonable for a parent to want to know who their child spent time with and where they went, but Mother seemed to have taken it to the point of interrogating her children. He and Tristan had run tame through the neighborhood at Thierry’s age. Mother and Father knew who they were with and had rules for how far they could go, but there was a level of trust. And no one had questioned them about the appropriateness of their friends. “Has she not approved of many people?”

  Thierry shrugged. “She prefers we associate with certain boys, the noble ones.”

  Thierry went to one of the better academies in Jumelle, as did Didier, since their family could afford it, and would attend the university after they finished. Tristan and Maxen had done the same. Some of the city’s nobility sent their children to that same school, along with the wealthier merchant families, so there were plenty of noble boys for Thierry and Didier to form friendships with, but Maxen hated the idea of their being forced away from some boys based solely on their class. Hated it with a fiery passion on his brothers’ behalf.

  “She’s doing the same to Renaud?” He’d been studying with a private tutor the past few months but would be at t
he university in the spring.

  “Yes.”

  “What about Selene?” Selene had been given tutors at home, as many young women of the wealthier classes were. As far as Maxen knew, she’d never expressed an interest in attending school with her brothers.

  Thierry shrugged. “It’s different for her. She can only see people at home or visit at their houses. If she’s out, Mother or someone is with her. Mother likes it if we’re not alone, but she’s stricter about it with Selene.”

  Yes, it would be different—whether it should be was another story. “I’ll talk to Mother. See if I can calm her down.”

  “Thanks.” Thierry didn’t sound hopeful, for which Maxen didn’t blame him.

  Maxen had talked to Mother a lot over the last several months, trying to mediate, trying to loosen rigid ideas of proper behavior for her children. It hadn’t helped, which he felt terrible about, but he wouldn’t stop trying. He wouldn’t stop trying to distract his siblings either. “You still want to go to the Midwinter fair, right?”

  Thierry brightened immediately and, after an emphatic affirmative, launched into an excited monologue about everything they had to do. Maxen smiled at his enthusiasm and let him ramble, happy he could give Thierry this at least.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Faelen spent the days following the dinner at Maxen’s house in a state of quiet happiness, fueled at least partly by many, many kisses. He loved those kisses, and he wasn’t tiring of them. In fact, it seemed that whenever Maxen kissed him there was more—more to feel, more to discover. Faelen wanted everything. But he also loved every moment spent in kisses and gentle touches and embraces and rambling conversations and comfortable silences. He indulged in them whenever he could.

  Savarin hadn’t needed any more help with the spells, for which Faelen was happy. He didn’t care for how his awareness of the protection spells seemed to press in on him sometimes. He was tempted to ask Alexander if he felt the same. But what Faelen was experiencing had to be all in his head, because he couldn’t help thinking about what had happened in the clearing. Talking about it with Alexander would only worry his twin. Best to ignore it and try to stop thinking about Savarin’s spells.

  Faelen was more than busy with his work in the archives. He often worked alone because Etan had other responsibilities, which was fine. He liked the quiet, and the work. It was like a puzzle, only far more important and with more personal meaning. He’d gone back to his own language studies as well, though he was no longer certain he would join the university full-time. He had time to figure that out, or so he told himself.

  Right now, he would revel in his time with Maxen and anticipate the fast-approaching holiday. He loved the Midwinter holiday. Though he’d miss the ice-skating parties and snow sculptures of Teilo’s festivities, he was excited to reacquaint himself with Jumelle’s.

  Philip had talked Amory into a ball to celebrate their anniversary, so there was that to coming up as well. Amory would have preferred to mark the occasion with a smaller, more intimate celebration, but he’d acceded to Philip’s wishes. For reasons known only to him, Philip wanted something more public.

  Faelen looked forward to toasting Philip and Amory’s happiness. The politics underlying such a court event wouldn’t be as enjoyable, but it was just the way things were. In Teilo, the court’s social round was hectic all year, and Faelen had been in the middle of it constantly. At Philip and Amory’s court, he had more nights to himself, which meant more nights with Maxen, but at some point, he’d begun to resent anything that took him away from Maxen.

  Would Maxen go to the ball? Would he want to? Faelen liked the idea of attending with Maxen. Maybe even dancing together. Did Maxen dance? Faelen hoped so.

  Perhaps he would ask. He wouldn’t let himself be disappointed if Maxen said no. Balls at the royal palace—and this would be an enormous one as everyone would be invited and anyone capable of doing so would attend—weren’t something everyone enjoyed, and Maxen hadn’t grown up with the obligation to court and the experience of how to handle it.

  There was nothing to be harmed by asking, though.

  Still, Faelen put it off. He was enjoying Maxen’s company away from court too much. If he wanted Maxen to be a part of his life, though, he couldn’t keep their relationship quiet forever.

  On the other hand, Maxen had his plans to travel, to see the world. He hadn’t mentioned changing them, and Faelen shouldn’t expect him to. But he wasn’t certain how he fit into them either.

  Faelen didn’t like those thoughts, so he let himself be impractical and ignored them, which wasn’t that difficult when he was giddy with Maxen’s kisses and laughter and the time spent in his presence.

  He strolled into the city as dusk fell, coat fastened and gloves on against the cold. He could have ridden, but he and Maxen had arranged to meet near the theater and walking was easier. The streets were bustling even now, some people rushing in and out of the shops finishing their errands for the holiday. He’d purchased gifts already—little things, as that was what his family had agreed upon. Maxen’s gift had been difficult for him to choose, but he hoped Maxen would like it, even if its intended purpose made Faelen a little sad.

  He bought a bag of roasted chestnuts from a cart on a corner and kept walking. The bag warmed his hand even through his glove, and the chestnuts were as delicious as he remembered. They didn’t grow in Teilo, but he used to eat them practically by the pound during the winter when he was a child. The treat warmed him inside and out, at least partly from the glow of pleasure and nostalgia.

  When he approached the theater, Maxen was coming toward him from the other direction, and Faelen smiled. He kept walking until he and Maxen met, until only inches separated them, and looked up into Maxen’s twinkling eyes.

  “Hello.”

  “Hello.” A ripple of something—pleasure, amusement, happiness—ran through Maxen’s voice before he dipped down and stole a kiss.

  Faelen would have liked the kiss to be a little less brief, but they were in the middle of the street. It still warmed him down to his toes, better even than the treat he’d indulged in on the walk over. Faelen couldn’t even care that they were in people’s way; he was far too happy—too light—just to be with Maxen. He’d seen Maxen two days ago, exchanged notes with him over the time they hadn’t been together, and yet he was soaring to be with him again.

  “What do you have there? Something sweet?”

  “Not this time. Chestnuts. Would you like one?” He held up the bag to Maxen, who accepted the offer.

  “Well, that really makes it feel like the holiday, doesn’t it?” Maxen said after he finished chewing.

  “I was just thinking that.”

  They were early, so they found an empty bench and sat close together, sharing the bag of roasted nuts between them and talking until it was time to go in. The play was absurd in the best way—a comedy with a holiday theme and some singing and dancing and an incomprehensible plot.

  “What even was that?” Faelen asked through laughter.

  Maxen took his hand as they were swept along with the crowd exiting the theater. The theater had been packed, perhaps with people beginning their holiday celebrations. Faelen was happy they’d taken a box when he saw all the jostling in the seats below. Maxen pulled him against his side as they were jostled now. Faelen huddled closer. He hated the pushing and shoving, but Maxen kept him close, making sure they didn’t get separated as the crowd surged toward the doors.

  “I have no idea.” But Maxen was still laughing. “It was funny though.”

  “Yes.” He wondered if he found it so funny because he just didn’t understand it, but the whole audience had laughed uproariously “I wish I knew why.”

  Maxen laughed even harder, tears gathering in his eyes. Faelen liked seeing Maxen laughing with such abandon. Such a joyful, free sound.

  The cold outside was almost a relief after the close, hot confines of the theater. Maxen let go of his hand to put his arm around F
aelen’s shoulders. Faelen could feel the heat of a blush even though he must have been flushed already, but he put his arm around Maxen’s waist, securing himself there as they began walking quickly down the street.

  He took a deep breath when they were out of the crowd, drawing in the crisp, cold air. “If I didn’t know better, I would think it smelled like snow.”

  “Does snow have a smell?”

  “Yes. There’s a feel to it as well.” He wasn’t sure how to describe it, that quality of the air that signaled when it was on its way. He’d learned to recognize it in Teilo, to love the moment of breathless anticipation before and treasure the magical hush of it, newly fallen.

  “Huh. Interesting.” Maxen seemed to be thinking about it. “I’ve never noticed. Of course, it hardly snows here, so I haven’t had much opportunity to find out.”

  “Probably not.” If Faelen had known seeing the deep drifts of it the previous winter in Teilo was going to be the last time, he might have appreciated it more. He shoved the slightly melancholy thoughts aside. “So what was going on with the guy in the red hat? Why was he under that table?”

  Maxen burst out laughing again. “I was going to ask you! I couldn’t figure out if it was supposed to be some sort of metaphor because it didn’t seem to have anything to do with the plot.”

  “Maybe? I mean, he just kept popping up. I don’t know why.” He shook his head, but he was laughing again too. “None of it made sense. Did I miss something?”

  “If you did, I did too. Why was it so funny?”

  Though they jumped from topic to topic over the course of dinner, they kept coming back to that question, and more laughter erupted. The eating house they’d chosen was in the same district as the theater, but on a narrow lane. It was quieter than the larger establishments, which was why they’d chosen it, but it meant they received more than a few looks when their laughter became a bit too loud. Faelen felt the creep of a blush at the stares, but Maxen only shrugged. His blue eyes were shining, and just looking at him so happy and relaxed made Faelen happy. Maxen had seemed to be under some strain lately, and his smile made Faelen not mind the attention they received so much.