The Merchant's Love

by Antonia Aquilante

  He dragged in a long breath and let it out, ignoring how it shuddered. Maxen grinned, though, as if pleased at his effect on Faelen, though his breathing wasn’t any steadier. Faelen shook his head, but he couldn’t keep his lips from curving just slightly.

  “You changed clothes.” The words were nonsensical and not at all what Faelen wanted to say. He forced his hands to relax and smoothed Maxen’s jacket, making sure no wrinkles marred the rich blue fabric.

  “I was not going to come to dinner at the palace smelling like a tavern, even if Tristan said it wasn’t formal.”

  Faelen laughed, suddenly feeling light. “As long as you didn’t come drunk, you’d probably be fine.”

  “As if I would do that.” Maxen suddenly dropped a kiss on Faelen’s nose, which caused him to flinch back in surprise and let out another short laugh. Maxen grinned. “You look wonderful.”

  Faelen wasn’t going to tell Maxen how long he’d taken to decide what to wear, despite the lack of formality, because he’d hoped Maxen would look at him just that way. Of course, now that he thought of it, Maxen looked at him that way when he was bedraggled by rain or rumpled from sleep or owl-eyed from too long at his books. Something warm turned over inside Faelen. It wouldn’t stop him from dressing with care—he liked his clothes far too much—but it was nice to know.

  “Thank you.”

  They looked at each other for a few moments. This had to be what the stories called getting lost in each other’s eyes. Faelen hadn’t thought it was real. He hadn’t realized a lot until Maxen.

  “I want to kiss you again,” Maxen said.

  Faelen let out another shaky breath at the rough words. “Me too, but we shouldn’t delay so long that they send someone for us. Because it would probably be Alexander, and he wouldn’t knock.”

  Maxen’s eyes widened, and Faelen chuckled, though he felt the same about the prospect. “We should go, then,” Maxen said.

  “Don’t sound so grim about it.” Faelen leaned back enough to get a better look at him. “It’s a family dinner.”

  “Your family includes a prince and a duke. I assume both will be there.”

  “Yes, and some other people as well.” Faelen lifted a hand to Maxen’s cheek. “I know it’s strange to be thrown into this, or I can imagine, but I love them. If we’re together, you’re going to have to see them.”

  Maxen let out a long breath. “I know. Please be patient while I try to get used to it all.”

  “I can do that.” Faelen kissed him quickly and then took Maxen’s hand. “Shall we go? We can exchange presents later.”

  “And how do you know I brought you a present?” There was a twinkle in Maxen’s eyes that had a smile tugging at Faelen’s lips.

  “Didn’t you?”

  “Of course, I did, and I think you’re going to like it.”

  Faelen wanted to know what the gift was now, which had likely been Maxen’s aim. He sighed and opened the door for Maxen. They talked idly as they walked through the corridors, Faelen asking Maxen about his afternoon with his friends, but not about lunch with his family. He wanted to distract Maxen, to put him at ease, not make him tenser. Even though he was curious about what had happened.

  Maxen offered nothing about his family but had no problem telling Faelen about the rest of his day, which led to several of them well on their way to drunk when Maxen had left.

  “Will they be all right?” Faelen asked as they approached Philip and Amory’s suite.

  “They’ll be fine. They weren’t all that drunk, and the tavern owner knows them. I wouldn’t have left otherwise.”

  Faelen smiled and knocked on the door. Maxen tensed at his side, and Faelen reached out to give his hand a squeeze before the door opened.

  Etan was on the other side, Bria in his arms. She looked drowsy—until she saw Maxen. Then she lunged at him with a happy cry.

  “Whoa!” Maxen caught her even as Etan firmed his grip to keep her from diving out of his arms. He relinquished his hold on her once Maxen had her securely. “You have to stop doing that, Bria sweetheart.”

  Faelen couldn’t help the little smile, a little glow of warmth at the sight of Maxen as doting uncle. He and Bria made an adorable picture. Her antics had also broken Maxen’s tension quite nicely. “Has she been doing it a lot?”

  Etan frowned slightly. “This afternoon. Scared me half to death then too. I’m going to have to be more prepared with this one when she’s around her uncle Maxen. Come in.”

  Faelen walked in first with Maxen following, Bria still in his arms babbling happily at him. She seemed to be keeping him from getting too nervous again, and for that, Faelen was grateful. Hopefully she would be content to stay with her uncle until he forgot where he was.

  The sitting room was warm and cozy, filled with overstuffed furniture in soft fabrics and warm colors and the bits of everyday life—a sketchbook on a side table, a scatter of blocks on the floor near the window, a thick book with a page marked halfway through on the cushion of a chair. This was where Philip and Amory lived, when they could put aside the roles of prince and consort and be just themselves, together. Faelen wasn’t certain anyone ever got to see them entirely that way, but the group in the room tonight probably got closer than most. It was the people who made the room even more welcoming.

  Cathal and Flavian sat on a couch talking to Philip, who was handing Alexander a drink. Tristan was sitting on another couch, Meriall in the chair adjacent to it. Elodie had other plans for the evening that Philip told her not to break, but Meriall had decided to have dinner with them. Amory was standing near them, Julien drowsing in his arms as he rocked back and forth slowly.

  Amory saw them first and smiled. “Faelen, Maxen, welcome.”

  Tristan glanced over, his forehead wrinkling even as he smiled. “Did she abandon you for Maxen?”

  “More like dove for him. I’m not sure where that bad habit came from.” Etan glanced at Maxen and grinned. “The flinging herself at you without regard for her life, not the wanting to see you.”

  Maxen huffed out a laugh. “Thanks for that.”

  Tristan was laughing fully, though, a melodic sound that turned heads at all the court events. If the courtiers thought it odd that another member of the royal family had married a commoner, it didn’t stop them from being charmed by him. “You’ll have to spend more time with her. Maybe that will dampen her enthusiasm.”

  “I…I think I’m insulted,” Maxen said with a frown.

  Faelen began laughing then as Tristan stammered out that he hadn’t meant that, and Etan shook his head indulgently. Amory smiled but twisted to look at Julien. Faelen quieted and moved closer, running a gentle hand over Julien’s dark hair. “He’s still asleep.”

  “Thanks.” Amory spoke in a low but normal voice, not whispering as Faelen had. “I’ll bring him to the nursery. Then I can get you a drink. Dinner will be served soon, but we have a little while to relax.”

  “Don’t worry about us.”

  Amory glided off with his sleeping son, and Faelen turned back to Maxen. Bria showed no signs of following Julien into dreams. Tristan and Etan didn’t hurry to take her back from Maxen either, but it didn’t look as if Maxen minded. When Philip came over to them, Maxen didn’t seem to know what to do with her—he was supposed to bow but couldn’t very well do it with Bria clinging to him.

  Philip solved his dilemma by waving a hand. “Don’t worry about it. I’m glad you could join us tonight.”

  “Thank you, Your Highness.”

  Philip didn’t say he didn’t have to use the title, which would make Maxen the only one in the room without that privilege. Perhaps someday if Faelen and Maxen continued on, Maxen might come to these family gatherings regularly, might even become comfortable enough with them that if Philip did afford him that privilege, he might not be too unsettled by it.

  Though Tristan still stumbled on what to call Philip sometimes, and it had been months, so who knew.

  After they exchanged gre
etings with everyone else and got drinks, Maxen hovered near the chair Faelen claimed as his own. He seemed to gradually feel more at ease, either because of Bria or the easy conversation that flowed between them all, and some of Faelen’s tension drained away as well.

  Bria was given to her nursemaid to be put to bed when they went in to dinner. They used the dining room in Philip and Amory’s suite, the table just big enough for all of them. Faelen sat between Maxen and Alexander and let the jumble of words and laughter wash over him. Before, family meals had been about being the ambassador’s family, practicing what was expected of them. There was none of that here; even the distance surrounding Philip didn’t seem as great.

  Maxen seemed to relax further as the meal continued. The food was excellent but not elaborate, and their manner informal. They discussed multiple subjects at once, the words mingling and mixing, and more than a few teasing remarks were tossed around the table.

  They lingered over dessert—cakes with warm cinnamon-spiced apples over the top—as if no one was quite ready to end the holiday. Faelen’s first Midwinter back in Jumelle had been really lovely. He could only hope next year’s was as good.

  The hour was late when the party reluctantly broke up. Meriall left first to return to the city, Alexander offering to escort her home. She rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. After the first departure, they all drifted off, warm and happy and floating from good wine and good company.

  Faelen returned to his suite with Maxen after bidding good night to the others. They didn’t talk, but Faelen let his hand brush Maxen’s, smiling when Maxen tangled their fingers together and held on as they walked the rest of the way through the dim corridors.

  Faelen let them in and closed the door softly but decisively behind them. Maxen tugged lightly on Faelen’s hand and Faelen went into his arms willingly. “Hmm,” Faelen sighed, snuggling in. “Thank you for coming tonight.”

  “I enjoyed it.” Maxen nuzzled Faelen’s hair and laid his cheek against it, resting there.

  “I’m glad.” More than, really. He couldn’t adequately express how much he’d liked having Maxen at the gathering, sharing little smiles and whispered words with him. He was suddenly grateful Alexander had offered to escort Meriall home, giving them this time alone. Had Alexander done it on purpose? It would’ve been kind of him.

  “Shall I give you your present before the holiday is over?”

  Faelen laughed softly. “I think it already is. It’s late, but I won’t turn down the gift.”

  Now, Maxen laughed. “I didn’t think you would.”

  He held on to Maxen when he would have moved away. “You didn’t have to buy me anything, you know.”

  “I know. I wanted to.”

  Maxen went to his coat and retrieved a small, brightly wrapped parcel. He handed it to Faelen, looking almost shy. A warm tide of something sweet moved through Faelen at the sight of it. He almost didn’t need to know what it was, just that Maxen had picked it and so obviously hoped he would like it. It was the first time they’d exchanged anything, except for the books, and that wasn’t the same—though Faelen would always treasure them.

  “Open it.”

  “Do you want to open yours at the same time?”

  “Later.” Maxen pressed the parcel into Faelen’s hands. “I hope you like it.”

  Faelen wouldn’t tell him he was sure he would because he’d only sound as if he were saying what Maxen wanted to hear, but Faelen would like it just because it was the first gift Maxen had given him at a holiday. Instead of saying anything, he turned his attention to the package. It wasn’t very heavy. He resisted the urge to shake it.

  Maxen laughed. “Are you trying to guess?”

  “Maybe?” Faelen grinned up at him.

  Maxen cupped his cheek, stroking his thumb over it lightly. “Just open it.”

  Faelen turned his head and kissed Maxen’s palm. Then he began to carefully work the wrapping free. He could tell Maxen was smiling without looking at him, but Faelen had always been deliberate in opening presents. Not that Faelen wasn’t eager to know what this package held—he just liked the anticipation.

  Finally, the colorful paper fell away to reveal a velvet box. Jewelry? Slowly, he lifted the lid, and gasped. Inside, on a pad of more dark velvet, lay a set of combs. The intricate silver filigree was set with little pearls and sparkling peridots. Faelen didn’t know what to say for a moment. The way he wore his hair wasn’t the fashion in Tournai, but Maxen had given him something he knew Faelen would love. A token perhaps, as were all gifts exchanged at Midwinter, but one he’d use happily.

  “Maxen…” Faelen finally looked up to find the worry back in Maxen’s eyes. “They’re beautiful. I love them.”

  Maxen’s smile bloomed. “I hoped you would. I saw them and thought of you. You’re always putting your hair up, and I thought these would look splendid in it.”

  “Why don’t we see?” Faelen set the box down on a table and reached up to twist his hair back in a loose knot. He picked up one of the combs, slid it into his hair, and did the same with the other, anchoring the mess of curls. He looked up at Maxen through his lashes. “What do you think?”

  “I think you’re beautiful, but I thought that the first moment I saw you.”

  Faelen’s breath caught in his throat. “Alexander and I look just the same.”

  “No, you don’t. Not to me.”

  Before Faelen could voice a protest, Maxen slid a hand behind Faelen’s neck, not dislodging the combs in his hair, and urged him forward into a kiss.

  Faelen expected a soft and gentle kiss from the way Maxen touched him, pulled him in, but he got simmering passion, barely restrained. And he reveled in it. He loved the gentle and the sweet with Maxen, but he also loved these indications of how much Maxen wanted him. He pushed into the kiss, pouring his own passion into it, pressing himself against the hard planes of Maxen’s body. Maxen groaned and held him there as the kiss went from barely restrained to devouring. Faelen gloried in that too—gloried in the heat that raced through his body at Maxen’s touch, in the firm grip of Maxen’s hands, because he’d done that, he’d made Maxen feel that way.

  Faelen whispered against Maxen’s lips, “Bed?”

  Maxen hesitated—or perhaps he just needed to catch his breath because, in a moment, he whispered in return, “Yes.”

  Faelen pulled him down into another kiss, a thrill zipping through him at the one word. Then he stepped back, keeping hold of Maxen’s hands as he walked backward. Maxen moved in close again, chasing Faelen’s kisses, leaving them stumbling and laughing as they made their way to the bedchamber.

  Once there, Faelen took the time to close the door and flip the lock. Alexander would be back at some point, and while he didn’t think Alexander would just come in—not with Maxen’s coat still in the sitting room—better to be safe. He turned from the door but didn’t get far. Maxen crowded into him until his back hit the door and bent to kiss him. Faelen stretched up into it, though he was too short to make it exactly comfortable. He wanted to curse his height, but he just balanced himself with his hands on Maxen’s shoulders and hooked a leg around Maxen’s hip, trying to push up higher. Maxen’s hands came to his waist, urging him up, and Faelen heeded, winding both legs around Maxen’s waist. Maxen murmured his approval into the kiss as Faelen looped his arms around his neck. They kissed for long moments, Faelen breathless and lightheaded with it all, pressed between Maxen and the door at his back.

  He plastered himself to Maxen, holding tight, rubbing against him, needing more. Maxen groaned. “Bed?”

  Faelen opened his mouth to agree, but all that came out was a moan when Maxen began nipping at the side of his neck. He dragged in a breath. “Yes, bed.”

  Maxen didn’t let him down as he’d expected, but instead carried him across the room and let him fall on the bed, following him down immediately. Maxen attacked Faelen’s clothes, pushing Faelen’s hands aside and stripping him, laying kisses and caresses on each bit of sk
in he uncovered, whispers of sensation that Faelen could barely handle, each one building in him until his skin felt hot and tingly. He couldn’t decide if he was relieved or frustrated when Maxen drew back to strip out of his own clothing, but he returned quickly, barely letting Faelen have time to shiver without the warmth of his body.

  Faelen reached up to pull the combs from his hair, but Maxen took his hand. “Leave them?”

  Faelen nodded slowly. “All right.”

  Maxen’s body slid against his, the heat of his skin searing into Faelen. He took Faelen’s mouth in another long kiss. Everything spun away. Faelen had pictured them ending up just like this, twined together in his soft bed, when he’d invited Maxen to the ball.

  Tonight, he was so happy he had it.

  Despite the passion flaring between them, they restrained themselves, seemingly in agreement to stretch this out as long as they could. They explored each other as they rolled on the big bed. When Faelen finally broke away to search through the nightstand drawer for the little bottle of oil he’d gotten when he’d begun thinking of bringing Maxen here, he was barely able to form words. But Maxen proceeded to torture him more with slippery fingers until Faelen was incoherent and practically begging, and he would have been embarrassed about that, but this was Maxen, and he looked to be holding onto his own control with a thin thread. They both groaned when Maxen pushed inside Faelen, and Faelen clung to Maxen, wanting him as close as possible as they moved together. As they lost themselves in each other.

  After, they stayed entwined for long moments, catching their breath. Then Maxen moved, rolling off Faelen but staying close. Faelen’s skin chilled quickly without Maxen’s warmth, and he reached for the blankets. He pulled them up and over the two of them even as he snuggled into Maxen’s side, purring when Maxen’s arm curved around him, his hand sweeping over Faelen’s back and up into his hair where the combs seemed to somehow have remained tangled in his tumbled curls. He didn’t move to take them out, and neither did Maxen.

  “Stay?” he asked, his voice hushed in the quiet room.