The Merchant's Love

by Antonia Aquilante

  Tristan studied him. Faelen wanted to squirm again, but he didn’t let himself. Tristan smiled finally, though it was a bit sad. “I’m going to deal with my mother, somehow—haven’t figured that out yet—and I’m going to talk to Maxen about taking too much on himself. He’ll be familiar with what he’s going to hear.”

  “You talked to him about it before?” Etan asked, frowning.

  “No, but he said some of the same things to me in a different context.” Tristan turned his attention back to Faelen. “And you’re going to be there for him because our family is a bit of mess, and he needs someone to take care of him sometimes.”

  “He won’t be happy that I talked to you.”

  “He’s not going to like it, no. But he’s sensible,” Tristan said. “Talk to him. Explain why you did it. He’ll understand.”

  “I hope you’re right.” He’d been trying to help Maxen, but he feared what he’d done would only upset him.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “You went to Tristan behind my back?”

  Maxen kept his voice even through sheer force of will. He’d been surprised when Faelen arrived on his doorstep late in the afternoon, a cloak over his formal clothing. He hadn’t expected to see him after he’d left early that morning to return to the palace, as Faelen would be attending a formal dinner tonight as part of the anniversary festivities. Maxen had just started to admire him in his dinner clothes when Faelen blurted out the reason for his visit.

  “I’m sorry.” Faelen bit his lip. “Or…I suppose I’m not really.”

  “You’re not sorry? You ran to my brother to talk about me, and you’re not sorry about it?” Incredulousness pushed anger out almost entirely.

  Faelen stood a fraction straighter, a slender figure in silk and velvet with a resolute expression on his face. “I’m not. I—I care about you, Maxen, so much, and I saw how upset you were, how much what happened with your mother was wearing on you. I thought Tristan might be able to help, or to tell me how I could. I’m sorry I’ve hurt you and made you angry, but I’m not sorry I did it if it ends up helping you.”

  “Do you know what’s happened this year in my family? Tristan shouldn’t have to deal with our mother.” Maxen was quite capable of handling Mother and doing what he could to mitigate her influence on his siblings without opening up wounds in Tristan that couldn’t have truly healed yet.

  “I understand that, I do.” Faelen stepped forward, expression earnest and intense, his voice soft but vibrating with emotion. “I don’t want Tristan to be hurt. I like him very much, but you’re my priority. More than anything, I don’t want you hurt. You’re the one I worry about.”

  Maxen wasn’t sure what to say. He wanted to stay angry. He didn’t know if he could after that.

  “I have to go. I have to attend this dinner, and I can’t be late. I hope I’ll still see you at the ball tomorrow night. I’ve been thinking about dancing with you.” Faelen hesitated before coming closer and going up on his toes to kiss Maxen’s cheek. Before Maxen could decide how to respond, Faelen had turned and disappeared from the room.

  The urge to run after him was strong. But what would that serve? He didn’t want to fight with Faelen. Perhaps with a little time, Maxen could figure out what he needed to say.

  By the next morning, he was no less conflicted. He hadn’t slept much, and he shocked Pia by being awake and coherent far sooner than he usually was. He lingered at the breakfast table after he finished eating, sipping chocolate that tasted like ash because Faelen loved chocolate so much.

  A knock on the front door interrupted the silence, and then Pia’s footsteps as she went to answer it. Part of him hoped Faelen had come back, but Maxen knew who had to be at his door.

  Tristan walked into the dining room. “You look more awake than not.”

  “I am.” He said nothing else as Tristan sat at the table and accepted the cup Pia brought him.

  “You can’t be surprised that I’m here,” Tristan said after a moment. “I assume Faelen came here after he talked with me yesterday.”

  “He did.” Maxen bit the words out.

  “Don’t be upset with him.”

  Maxen glared at Tristan. “How can I not? I didn’t want him to go to you with this. I can handle Mother myself.”

  “You shouldn’t have to.” Tristan shook his head before Maxen could speak. “Wait a minute. Listen. I should be talking to Mother and telling her to let up with what she’s doing.”

  “But you shouldn’t have to!” Maxen couldn’t be quiet any longer. “Not after what she did to you and Bria—and certainly not alone. I don’t care that you’re head of the family. That’s an accident of birth. I’m your brother, Tristan.”

  “So why are you keeping it from me?”

  Maxen went silent and he stared at Tristan.

  “Not all that long ago, we sat in this house one night, and you told me to stop taking so much on myself,” Tristan continued. “I’d been doing too much and blaming myself when I couldn’t do it all as well as I thought I should. So why are you taking this entirely on yourself?”

  “I’m not.” The protest leaped immediately to Maxen’s lips. There was a twist in his stomach at Tristan’s words. He had urged Tristan to let him help in the business and in the family. There was no reason—except pride—for Tristan to do otherwise. “This is different.”

  “Why?”

  “Because of what Mother and Selene did to you.” Not just their final actions that had made Bria vulnerable to kidnapping, though they had been bad enough, but also the months of pushing Tristan to find a woman to marry so Bria would have a mother, of pushing Tristan to give Bria to Mother in the meantime because he couldn’t possibly raise her properly. Tristan had hardly seen Mother since his wedding. Maxen was surprised she had been invited at all, though he supposed not inviting her would have been more difficult.

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  Maxen sat up straight. “Of course, it does!”

  Tristan waved a hand. “That isn’t what I meant. It matters. It changed everything between me, Mother, and Selene. Even knowing that she meant well, that she believed what she was doing was best for Bria, doesn’t change how I feel. I don’t trust her anymore.”

  “Then why did you say it doesn’t matter?”

  “Because none of it does when you have a problem like this. You can’t be the only one dealing with it when she tries to put pressure on us this way.”

  “She’s putting pressure on me.”

  “You know it’s both of us.” Tristan sighed. “Before Etan and I married, she was hinting at invitations to court functions and finding Selene a husband in every letter she sent. More than hinting. I hoped she’d get over it.”

  Maxen understood the hope, but it was futile. “She isn’t going to stop. Not until Selene is married, and better than she could have been since we—you have connections to the throne.”

  Tristan had a gleam in his eyes, but he didn’t mention Maxen’s slip. “If finding the right marriage will make Selene happy, then I feel like a villain keeping her from it, but what can we do? We can’t give in, or Mother will keep going. I want to believe she’d be content once Selene marries…”

  “I can’t quite believe it either. I feel horrible saying that.” Maxen increasingly felt horrible about a lot of things that happened to and within his family.

  “I’ve felt horrible thinking it, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t true.” Tristan sighed. “She wants the best for us, but she has a narrow definition of what that is. She’s almost happy about my marriage—Etan is part of the royal family; I live in the palace. She likes the elevation the family gets from it. She doesn’t like that I married a man and won’t ever have sons for the family.”

  It was Maxen’s turn to sigh. “She loves us.”

  What he didn’t have to say was that she didn’t express it well. Since Father died, she’d seemed entirely obsessed with them all marrying well and continuing the family, which, to her mind, mean
t more sons for the business. She didn’t think Tristan’s daughter—who, yes, was an infant they shouldn’t be making plans for—could be a part of the business when she grew up, even if she wanted to. Tristan and Maxen, and Etan too, disagreed. Maybe Mother had always been this way, but they hadn’t seen it before.

  “She does. But she can’t think outside her rigid ideas for what we should all be doing.”

  Maxen nodded. “So what are we going to do?”

  “I’m happy you said ‘we.’”

  Maxen closed his eyes. “Fine. Yes. I admit I shouldn’t have tried to shield you so much.”

  Tristan closed his hand over Maxen’s and squeezed. “I love you for the impulse to shield me from hurt, but that doesn’t mean you can let it wear you down to nothing.”

  He opened his eyes and covered Tristan’s hand with his. “Do you have a plan?”

  “Not yet. Maybe I can ask if Meriall would mind spending some time with Selene, bringing her to some parties.”

  “She’s already friends with Adora—they came along to the Midwinter fair. Adora and Selene have known each other for ages. Maybe that will make things easier.” He shrugged. “Whatever Selene thinks she’s ready for, court is beyond it.”

  “And you’ve only had a small taste,” Tristan said. “I’m nowhere near used to it yet, but I’m working on it. You’ll have to as well if you keep seeing Faelen.”

  Maxen stiffened. Where did he stand with Faelen? He hoped he hadn’t ruined anything between them with his reaction, but he was still upset with Faelen for what he’d done.

  “He’s very savvy at court,” Tristan continued when Maxen said nothing. “He’s quieter than Alexander, far less flirtatious and social, but he knows all the ins and outs. Knows just what to say and do. Which makes sense, with his father an ambassador and him first cousin to the prince. But it also means that if you and he continue, you’ll probably have to spend much more time at court.”

  He hadn’t thought much about that, not in some time, but everything had changed, and he was still catching up. He’d been moving along, assuming he and Faelen would continue as they were for a while, but he hadn’t thought about what kind of future they could have. Or how that future might fit in with his own plans.

  “Are you saying you don’t think I should keep seeing him?”

  “Not at all.” Tristan looked honestly startled. “I like Faelen, and I’m coming to like him for you. So it’s just something for you to prepare yourself for.”

  “Your wedding was overwhelming enough, and I didn’t get the impression that was any real type of court event.”

  “It was a bit different. We handpicked the guests, and the protocols were slightly different.” Tristan gave him a reassuring smile. “But if I can do it, you can.”

  Maxen laughed. “And you’ll help me?”

  “I’m the last person you want. I’m still mostly clueless. I doubt Faelen will leave you to drown in it all, though.”

  “No, he isn’t like that,” Maxen murmured.

  “I’m not sure what Mother’s reaction will be.” Tristan’s words brought Maxen’s attention back to him. “If you and Faelen are serious, she’ll have to be told. I can’t believe she’d be upset about another connection to the royal family.”

  “But she might be upset about another that likely won’t produce children. For that matter, I have no idea what Faelen’s parents or Prince Philip would think.”

  “Do you care?”

  “I…not really. No.” He didn’t need Tristan’s skeptical expression to tell him he hadn’t sounded entirely convincing. “I haven’t thought about it. I’ve been too incredulous that anything happened between Faelen and me. Maybe a bit in awe too.”

  Tristan’s smile went warm and soft. “You have time to think about it. I jumped into a relationship with Etan without thinking about much at all. It worked out fine, but I don’t necessarily recommend not thinking about what you’re in for. Life married to a member of the royal family—life as a member of the royal family—has its burdens and challenges, but that family is also welcoming and really quite wonderful. If you love Faelen, the burdens won’t seem so bad.”

  “Faelen and I haven’t talked about love.” Even if Maxen was beginning to think it might be just that.

  “You have time,” Tristan repeated. “Let me know if you need to talk. I’ll think about how to deal with Mother.”

  “You’re leaving?” Maxen asked when Tristan stood. The offices were closed for the holiday, and he’d hoped for a little more time with his brother. A few hours with Tristan might have helped smooth out the edges.

  “I have to get back to the palace. But I’ll see you later? You’ll be at the ball?”

  “I…” He hadn’t thought about it—hadn’t let himself think about it—since he and Faelen argued.

  “I’ll see you later.” Tristan patted his shoulder and left the dining room.

  Maxen leaned back in his chair, suddenly so tired, but in a different way than earlier. Talking with Tristan had helped with some of what rested heavily on his shoulders, and had left him feeling as if he might be able to sleep. A nap might also help him think more clearly about tonight. He left the dining room in close to a daze and made his way up to his bedchamber. The bed remained the mess he’d left it—from his near sleepless night and not from anything more pleasant—which made his decision even easier. He took off his dressing gown and tossed it over the bench at the foot of the bed, climbed onto the mattress, and pulled the blankets over his head.

  Faelen stood at his dressing table, staring into the mirror. He’d dressed carefully for the ball—he did for anything, but the ball deserved extra thought. It was the most formal, and arguably most important, court event he’d attend since his return to Tournai. Anyone of note would be there, and expectations would be high. He liked looking his best anyway; he just liked clothes, and he wasn’t ashamed of it. He and Alexander had spent some time immersed in building their wardrobes over the years, and for this ball, they’d both had something new made up.

  The crimson velvet heightened his coloring, bringing out the green of his eyes. The jacket, trimmed in snowy lace, was tailored to his slender form, making the most of that as well. The style wasn’t exactly what was popular in Tournai at the moment, but neither was it quite the fashion of Teilo that he was used to. He studied the jacket critically, but he still liked the look of it as much as he had at the fitting. He didn’t want to admit he wondered what Maxen would think of him in it.

  He didn’t want to admit he worried Maxen wouldn’t come to the ball at all.

  For now, Faelen tried not to think about their disagreement—Argument? He supposed it was—and what might come of it. He refused to believe he’d ruined everything in his desire to help. Perhaps he shouldn’t have done it; perhaps he should have spoken to Maxen first. But if he had, Maxen would have said no. Wasn’t it worth it if Tristan helped Maxen, even if he didn’t want to be with Faelen anymore?

  Everything inside him rebelled at the thought.

  Would he and Maxen have lasted anyway? Maxen planned to travel and explore. Faelen only wanted to build a home and a life in one place. Father’s calling to diplomatic service saw them in too many places, with the threat of moving elsewhere at any moment. Father and Mother thrived on it. Alexander adapted well. Faelen craved his own place that he didn’t have to leave at someone else’s whim. Would Maxen be happy with that? They hadn’t discussed it. What was between them was too new—as lovers, they were still finding their way. Faelen was finding his way with this type of relationship entirely.

  He’d never been with anyone this way, never wanted to. Now all he wanted was to be with Maxen forever.

  Faelen sighed. Now was not the time to think about it. If Maxen came to the ball, if he forgave for Faelen for what he’d done, they could see. Faelen would be happy if they could work themselves back to the place they’d been.

  He sat at the dressing table. Should he leave his hair loose or pull it
back? He had a clip with a few rubies set in silver that matched the brooch he wore at his collar. It wasn’t popular in Tournai either, but he wasn’t sure he cared. Alexander had said he already saw some of the court’s fashionable imitating what he and Faelen wore. He took all the credit for it and was probably correct to do so. Often at Elodie’s side, Alexander had become quite visible at court.

  So he really shouldn’t worry about that aspect of his attire…but he’d like to look his best if Maxen did attend the ball. Giving up, he twisted the hair to frame the sides of his face loosely and gathered it all into a short tail. He examined it in the mirror as he held it back with one hand and smoothed it with the other. When he was satisfied, he secured it with the clip.

  “Ready?”

  Faelen barely blinked at Alexander’s voice. He’d been expecting his twin at any moment. Everyone thought Alexander spent hours in front of a mirror, but he was usually quick at dressing. Faelen looked at him in the mirror as he approached. Alexander’s clothes were similar in style to his, but in a deep sapphire blue decorated with wintery silver embroidery and edged at the cuffs in silver lace. He’d pulled his hair back too, but he’d accented it with small braids on the sides.

  “I am.” Faelen stood. “They’ll be sighing over you tonight, as always.”

  Alexander shrugged. “Some will. You’ll get your share, I’m sure. Not that you’ll notice with Maxen at your side.”

  Faelen held back the flinch, but Alexander’s sharp eyes picked it up anyway. He hadn’t told Alexander about his argument with Maxen. He hadn’t wanted to give Alexander any reason to be put out with Maxen when he was already skeptical.

  “What happened?”

  “Nothing. We had a disagreement. People do.” He put more effort into sounding unconcerned.

  “You hardly ever do. What did he do?” Alexander frowned. “Shall I talk to him?”

  Faelen laughed. “No. And he didn’t do anything. I did something he didn’t want me to do.”