Pia returned with breakfast, and they busied themselves with food for a while before Faelen asked, “Do you come for breakfast often?”
“Sometimes. Sometimes I sit with Maxen while he eats before we go to the offices. Today, I came by with a question, but I’m happy to keep you company until Maxen emerges.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to fetch him?” Faelen would be more comfortable with Maxen there as a buffer, which was silly because he knew Tristan—they saw each other almost every day.
“I can wait. Besides, you can’t wake him before he’s ready. You don’t know that yet?” Curiosity danced in Tristan’s blue eyes.
“This is the first time we’re…waking up together.”
“Ah. Should I apologize for interrupting?”
Faelen shook his head quickly. “It’s fine. What did you mean about Maxen?”
“Oh, well. You’ll see. There’s nothing you can do to wake him. And when he does come down, he’ll be mostly incoherent for a while.” Tristan laughed, probably at whatever Faelen’s expression revealed—and perhaps Tristan had been right about him too. “He’s always been this way. Even when we were children.”
Faelen frowned. “But doesn’t he get up and go to the office in the morning?”
“It isn’t so much about time.” Tristan shrugged. “It’s just about waking up whenever he does.”
“I don’t know if I entirely understand,” Faelen said slowly.
“You’ll see,” Tristan repeated. “I’m sure you’ll get used to it.”
Tristan’s words implied he assumed Faelen would be waking up with Maxen on a regular basis. Faelen would love to wake up beside Maxen for a long time to come—maybe forever—but that wasn’t something to think about at the moment. Why was Tristan making the assumption, though? Where had it come from? Clumsy footsteps on the stairs interrupted him before he could try to ask.
“You’ll see,” Tristan said once more, nodding toward the door behind Faelen.
Bewildered, Faelen turned as Maxen shuffled into the room. He was also in a dressing gown, his hair still mussed, eyes only half-open. Faelen frowned. Was Maxen actually seeing anything? He slumped into the seat that was customarily his.
“Good morning, Maxen,” Tristan said.
Maxen made a noise that was almost a grunt in reply, and then another when Tristan poured him a cup of chocolate and slid it across to him. He wrapped his hands around the little cup and began to drink with single-minded focus.
“Maxen?” Faelen ventured. But he received the same response.
“Give him a minute,” Tristan said. “Finish your breakfast.”
“He’s always like this in the morning?”
“Mostly.” Tristan shrugged and looked almost apologetic. “He’ll be embarrassed you saw him this way, but it’s best you know.”
“I…” What could he say to that assertion? He ate his breakfast and drank his chocolate.
Tristan did the same. “Are you looking forward to Amory and Philip’s anniversary ball?”
Faelen darted a glance at Maxen before focusing back on Tristan. “Yes, I suppose. Alexander is probably more excited.”
“He does seem to like a party.”
Faelen chuckled. “That he does.”
There were many facets to his brother, and one of them was exactly as he so often appeared—the social butterfly with a love of dancing and flirtation. Faelen had less capacity for such pursuits, though he was excited about celebrating with Philip and Amory.
They chatted idly while they finished eating and sipped more chocolate. Tristan refilled Maxen’s cup at one point, and Pia came in with a plate for him. He began to eat after a few more sips from his cup. The food and rich drink seemed to do something to Maxen, and slowly he began showing signs of life.
“Back with us?” Tristan asked, his voice rippling with amusement.
“When did you get here?” Maxen asked.
“Not long before you got up.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I’ve been keeping Faelen company.”
A flush stained Maxen’s cheeks, and he glanced at Faelen. Faelen patted his hand. Really, he couldn’t fathom how Maxen functioned this way every morning.
“Is there a reason you came over to begin with?” Maxen asked his brother. “Or did you just want to eat my food?”
“Oh, well, Etan had to go to the university, and I thought I’d come here until he finished. I had a few questions about a contract for you anyway.” Tristan glanced at Faelen and then back at Maxen. “I didn’t realize you had company.”
“It’s all right,” Faelen said. “I’ll leave you two to talk.”
“No.” Tristan shook his head. “I’ll come back another time.”
“You’re here now, Tristan. We can talk about your questions if Faelen doesn’t mind,” Maxen said.
“I don’t,” Faelen answered quickly. “I’ll just go upstairs.”
He had to start looking for the rest of his clothes anyway for his return to the palace. He didn’t really want to go home yet. He wanted to go back to Maxen’s bed and snuggle into his arms.
“No, Faelen. It’s fine.” Tristan flashed him a reassuring smile before looking back to Maxen. “The contract can wait. We’ll discuss it later.”
Tristan quickly stood to bid them farewell. Faelen thanked him for his company, and then Tristan was gone, leaving them alone over the remains of their breakfast. They looked at each other for a moment, silent. Faelen didn’t know what to say, not after last night—wonderful as it had been—and this morning’s strange events.
“Good morning,” Maxen said finally, his voice slightly deeper and warmer than it had been when he’d spoken with Tristan. Faelen shivered.
“Good morning.”
“I’m sorry about…” Maxen waved a hand, as if to encompass himself and his behavior and the situation.
“It’s all right. But…” Faelen bit his lip. “Does that actually happen every day?”
“Um…sort of? I’m not good for much when I first wake up. I’ll try to do better now, or at least wake up before you do so you won’t have to put up with me.”
Warmth spread through Faelen at Maxen’s assumption that there would be more mornings together. “I don’t mind putting up with you.” He struggled for something to say that wouldn’t be utterly emotional. “Now that I know, I’ll just bring a book to the table.”
Maxen laughed and lifted Faelen’s hand to his lips. “Whatever makes you happy.”
“You make me happy.” The words left Faelen breathless. Though true, they seemed perilously close to a declaration—but he couldn’t take them back. Being with Maxen did make Faelen happy.
A slow smile curved Maxen’s lips. “You make me happy too.”
The panic that had begun nipping at the edges of Faelen’s thoughts receded. “I’m glad.”
“Do you have to return to the palace now?”
“Not really. No one is expecting me at a particular time.” Tristan would tell at least Etan where Faelen was. He couldn’t imagine the information wouldn’t spread through the family at the palace like wildfire. He loved them, but secrets weren’t easy to keep. “Did you have something in mind?”
“I thought we might go back to bed.”
Faelen smiled slowly. “But you’ve only just—finally—woken up.”
“I wasn’t suggesting we sleep. Just…go back to bed.”
Another fine shiver of pleasure ran through Faelen. “And what are you suggesting we do there?”
There was a gleam in Maxen’s blue eyes and a wicked smile on his lips. He moved suddenly, standing and swooping down on Faelen in one fluid movement. Faelen found himself scooped up into Maxen’s arms and lifted into the air. He let out a shriek and clutched at Maxen’s shoulders at the odd feeling of weightlessness.
Maxen chuckled as he lifted Faelen, letting his embarrassment go in the sheer pleasure of being near Faelen and making him react so. “Shh. I’m not
going to drop you.”
“I’m not so sure about that. A few minutes ago, you seemed barely alive.” Faelen was laughing breathlessly, so the words didn’t have the edge he probably meant them to.
“I’m awake, and I would never drop you.” Maxen carried Faelen into the entry hall and started up the stairs. The servants probably thought he’d gone mad. He’d never behaved this way before, but then, he’d never spent a night with Faelen before.
Faelen twisted, his slender body moving delightfully against Maxen’s. “Put me down. I’m too heavy to carry.”
“Hush. You weigh nothing.” Not at all true. There was more sleek muscle on Faelen’s slender frame than Maxen had realized before he saw him out of his exquisite clothing. “Stop moving so much. I don’t want you squirming right out of my arms.”
Faelen froze.
When Maxen got to the bedchamber, he kicked the door shut behind him—the servants may have witnessed his playfulness, but they would see no more—and carried Faelen to the bed. Maxen tossed him down among the still mussed blankets. Faelen laughed, his cheeks flushing a delicate pink, his eyes dancing with mirth. Maxen went still and just looked at him, marveling that someone so beautiful inside and out wanted him—was, perhaps, his. He was beginning to realize how completely he belonged to Faelen.
He wouldn’t think about how terrifying that was.
“Maxen?”
“I just needed to look at you for a moment.” He lowered himself to the bed over Faelen, feeling Faelen’s arms come up to hold him, his legs lift to cradle him. “You take my breath away.”
Faelen’s face went blank with surprise, and then his lips began to curve slightly. Maxen couldn’t take it any longer. He bent his head and kissed Faelen and was swept away in it immediately.
Maxen hadn’t planned anything in particular when he brought Faelen back up to bed. He would’ve been happy for them to just hold each other, but he would never argue with this. Faelen’s hands worked their way under Maxen’s dressing gown, sweeping over his chest and around to his back, digging in slightly when Maxen nipped at his lip.
Faelen arched up against him as Maxen trailed kisses and nibbles down his throat and over his collarbone and shoulder, pushing the dressing gown—oh, he liked Faelen in his clothes—out of his way. Faelen moaned and clutched at Maxen. He curved a long leg around Maxen’s hip and rubbed them together. But there was too much in the way. Maxen pushed their dressing gowns aside, shedding his own entirely and tossing it somewhere.
He gasped at the feel of his skin, at the exhilaration—the joy—of being with Faelen this way. He’d been naked in this bed with Faelen last night, had slept with him in his arms, but he wasn’t used to it, doubted he ever would be. It was too wonderful and too precious. Dare he think about forever? He let the possibility fall away as he drowned himself in all that was Faelen—the scent of his soft hair, the feel of his silky skin. They touched and thrust against each other. Before Maxen was ready, pleasure rose up and swamped him, and they both found their release.
They lay together quietly after. Maxen tried to get his breathing under control and move; he had to be crushing Faelen. But when he tried to roll away, Faelen clutched him closer, keeping him against his body. Maxen subsided without argument. There was nowhere else he wanted to be.
After a while, though, Maxen began to get cold. And when Faelen shivered, Maxen nuzzled his cheek briefly and slid off the bed. A quick trip to the bathing room for a damp cloth and a dry one, and he cleaned them both up. Then he put on his dressing gown and bundled Faelen back into the one he’d borrowed. Faelen flashed him a wry smile, expressing without words that he could do it himself but didn’t mind the attention. Good, because Maxen found himself with the desire to take care of Faelen.
Maxen built the fire up and called for another pot of chocolate. When it arrived, they wrapped themselves in the blankets and nestled together against the pillows. Faelen snuggled in close, practically in Maxen’s lap, and Maxen smiled. “You’re like a kitten, cuddling up, getting as close as you can.”
Faelen jerked a bit in his arms, sloshing but not spilling the chocolate he cradled in his hands. “I can move.”
Maxen tightened an arm around Faelen’s shoulders. “I wasn’t complaining. I like cuddling up with you.”
Faelen was silent for a moment, and Maxen worried he’d offended him with what he’d thought was a bit of light teasing. He was so content with Faelen, settled in together among blankets and pillows.
“I like it too,” Faelen said finally, and Maxen could breathe again.
“Good.”
They fell silent, and Maxen let the comfortable quiet stretch out around them. He just wanted to stay in bed and drink chocolate with Faelen and wish this could be every day.
Faelen pulled away long enough to set his cup aside and then, with a brief hesitation, snuggled back into Maxen’s arms. Maxen worried briefly over the hesitation, but Faelen relaxed against him immediately, and he let himself be reassured. After a moment, he began stroking Faelen’s hair, smoothing his hand over the silky locks, letting the curls twine around his fingers. Faelen sighed softly and went boneless, making a noise that was almost a purr.
Maxen smiled as a surge of delight washed through him. He couldn’t help comparing Faelen to a cat again, but he also wanted to keep holding him and stroking his hair, so he kept the comparison to himself.
“Will you be going to the ball celebrating Philip and Amory’s wedding anniversary?” Faelen asked softly. “Tristan mentioned it earlier, and I’ve been thinking about it. Perhaps we could go together?”
Maxen had been trying to think of a delicate way to tell Faelen he didn’t have an invitation, when his last words stopped Maxen abruptly.
“You want me to go to a ball with you?”
Not just any ball, but the princes’ anniversary ball, which was sure to be the social event of the Midwinter season. Maxen had heard speculation and gossip about it in the city where few would ever see the inside of the palace.
Mother had been buzzing about it for weeks. He dreaded her reaction when she didn’t receive an invitation. Amory would never put her on a guest list without Tristan’s request, and Tristan would never ask, not after all that Mother had done and said to him. But Mother would see an invitation to the palace as a way to bring Selene to the attention of potential noble suitors. While he didn’t begrudge his sister the opportunity, he cringed at Mother’s pushiness, and there was only so much he could do to counteract it.
“Yes, if you’d like,” Faelen said. “It’s not only a celebration of the princes’ marriage—it’s also a court social event. So it won’t be particularly relaxed or intimate. I have a feeling Amory would be fine dispensing with it entirely.”
“You aren’t exactly convincing me to go.” He’d learned by now how good Faelen was at court protocol and maneuvering. Faelen seemed to understand exactly what was to be done or said at any particular time. Maxen found it surprising that he’d managed to get so close to him while probably doing all the wrong things.
Faelen laughed. “I didn’t mean it that way! It will be fun—there’ll be dancing, and food and wine. I would really enjoy it if you were with me.”
He said the last part in a quieter voice, without the ripple of amusement that had run through his previous words. Faelen’s wish to have him there with him thrilled Maxen. “I would love to go with you.”
Faelen’s smile was brilliant—so much so it took Maxen’s breath away—and different from his usual quiet one, though Maxen didn’t treasure that one any less. He stretched up to kiss Maxen lightly. “Thank you.”
“Thank you for asking,” Maxen said and stole another kiss. “I hope this doesn’t mean we can’t go to the Midwinter fair together as well.”
“Did you want to?”
“Of course. You said you haven’t been to it in years. I was hoping I could help you explore its offerings again.”
Delight, almost childlike, shone in Faelen’s peridot e
yes. “I would love that.”
Chapter Sixteen
The Midwinter festival began with the usual explosion of merrymaking, but Maxen didn’t attend many of the events the first day. He took Thierry and Didier after they were done with their lessons, now suspended until the end of the holiday. Thierry had always loved it, and he and Didier needed the break—from Mother’s expectations as much as schoolwork.
He’d offered to bring Renaud and Selene along as well, but both refused. Renaud had plans to go with friends the next day and Selene hadn’t been interested, or so she’d said. Maxen didn’t know how to persuade her that she didn’t have to be exactly what Mother said, but perhaps Selene wanted what Mother did. He’d retrieved Thierry and Didier from the house without seeing Mother or Selene, so he couldn’t ask again anyway.
Maxen had been tempted to invite Faelen to go with them. They’d exchanged notes about the festival over the last few days, and Faelen’s excitement had practically radiated from the pages. Ultimately, that was what had made Maxen choose not to ask him that day. He wanted all of Faelen’s excitement for himself. He wanted to see it, hear it, delight in it on every level, and he didn’t want anyone else with them while he did.
And, anyway, Didier was difficult enough to keep track of.
They didn’t attend all of the entertainments, but they did see the things Thierry and Didier had been excited about. Maxen bought them each a little bag of roasted, sugared nuts almost immediately, and Didier tore into them just as quickly, a grin—the very same as Tristan’s—flashing at the first bite. Thierry seemed to think himself too old to do the same or to skip at Maxen’s side as he used to, but there was a sparkle of excitement in his eyes.
They strolled through the market, watched jugglers and acrobats, and went to one of the puppet shows. Maxen almost missed that he didn’t have to put Didier up on his shoulders anymore, though it had been years. Where had this nostalgia come from? It was hard to resist slipping into it at the holiday. To notice all the differences. His little brothers were growing up. Tristan was married, happily this time, to the man he loved. Father was gone, for only the second Midwinter holiday. Sometimes, he missed the way things had been before Father’s sudden illness and death so much. Thinking about Father’s death and the changes that had come with it saddened him.
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