The Artist’s Masquerade

by Antonia Aquilante

Cathal looked between the two of them. “How?”

  “I have your brother searching your father’s office every chance he gets for the real agreement, notes, correspondence. Anything that will give us the full picture of what Umber did,” Philip said.

  Astonishment nearly knocked him off his chair. “Etan is rummaging through Father’s office?”

  “Vrai, actually,” Amory said. He smiled at whatever he must have seen on Cathal’s face. “We didn’t tell him about Flavian, but he wants you to be happy and not be pushed into a marriage you don’t want. We all want you to be happy, Cathal.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I just want to know what advantage Ardunn thought to gain from this betrothal. What did Umber promise them? You’re not that high in the succession. Umber has no authority to negotiate trade agreements or alliances.” Philip shook his head. “He doesn’t even have authority to negotiate marriages like this one, not without my approval.”

  “They wouldn’t need an alliance anyway, would they?”

  “Ardunn doesn’t make alliances,” Cathal said, answering Amory’s question. “Or they never have.”

  “The emperor hasn’t needed alliances for conquest,” Philip said. “So it begs the question of why they made this marriage and sent spies to us at the same time. We’ve wondered if there could be a spy in Lady Velia’s traveling party.”

  “But there are so few of them. It’s strange they didn’t bring more people. Lady Velia doesn’t even have a maid with her,” Amory said. “Unless she didn’t bring one because of Flavian and the danger of discovery.”

  “Would she have that much control?” Philip asked.

  “I don’t know,” Cathal said, trying to think about the dynamics of the group. “And I don’t know enough about the customs of Ardunn either.”

  “No, for all we know, it may be customary to send a woman to her new husband with nothing of her old life. There are places where that is the custom.” Philip sighed. “I may need to talk to Flavian again. He’s the only expert we have on Ardunn since it became more restrictive.”

  Cathal bristled at the idea of Flavian being used, but Philip needed information and asking Flavian questions wasn’t too much to ask. Flavian would probably hit Cathal if he heard Cathal wanted to protect him anyway.

  “A maid would have been my first thought for spy—ubiquitous, invisible—but she didn’t bring one. Her aunt’s maid is being watched,” Philip mused. “The duke’s secretary too. Nothing yet.”

  “They’re all being watched,” Cathal said. “And we haven’t found anything yet.”

  “What if there isn’t a spy in the group? What if the emperor is just waiting for a report on what they saw when they return?” Amory asked. “Something informal, leaving the long-term work to the spies in the city, but that would give him an indication of what our strengths, our defenses, are.”

  “Whether the stories are true?” Philip asked with an amused tilt to his lips.

  Amory smiled back. “Perhaps.”

  Amusement drained from Philip’s face as quickly as it appeared. “Perhaps. Perhaps he was supposed to get as close to us as he could, get as much information as he could.”

  “I believe he’ll be disappointed with what he’s gotten from us,” Cathal said. But the theory had merit.

  “Yes.” Philip stared up at the coffered ceiling for a moment. “The duke spends a lot of time with Umber. Do we have any idea what they talk about?”

  “Do you think my father has turned traitor?” The words came out very calmly considering the churning mess of emotions in Cathal’s stomach.

  “No. He’s far too committed to Tournai, but I don’t know what he’s doing or what Willem is getting out of him without him even knowing it.” Philip glanced at Cathal briefly, but it was long enough for Cathal to see the conflict there. Philip’s hands tightened on the arms of his chair. “I could charge him with treason just for negotiating the contract without my knowledge or consent.”

  Silence reigned in the office after Philip’s statement. There was little to say. Philip could have done—could still do—exactly as he stated. Why he hadn’t was something only he, and probably Amory, knew.

  “We’re going to do our best to get you out of this, Cathal,” Philip said finally. “And if we can’t, then we’ll stand by you and help you find happiness with Flavian any way we can.”

  But would Flavian want to be with him if Cathal was married to Velia? He hated even the idea of asking Flavian to do so. “I don’t know how Flavian would feel about that.”

  Amory’s hand gripped Cathal’s. “Talk to him.”

  FLAVIAN PACED the garden paths under the warmth of the late morning sun, letting it seep into him, lull and soothe him. Far warmer in Tournai than it would have been where he grew up. In the higher elevations of northern Ardunn, springs were cooler and wetter. He could only imagine what summer would feel like in Tournai. Anticipation buoyed him for a moment, bringing a smile to his face. He thought he’d like it.

  But where would he be come midsummer? Still at the palace in the middle of his ridiculous charade or finally on his own, as himself? He hoped for the latter, but a pang of pain rippled through him at the thought… because leaving meant leaving Cathal, and Flavian wasn’t ready to do that.

  He’d have to.

  He wouldn’t think of it yet, especially not after last night. Such a wonderful, terrifying night. Which he also wasn’t ready to think about, not yet. He took a deep breath of warm air, heavily laden with the scent of flowers. So he wouldn’t think about any of it, which was easier said than done since Cathal never seemed far from his thoughts.

  Flavian settled himself on a bench in a shady corner and opened his sketchbook. He hadn’t paid attention to his surroundings, but he wasn’t planning to draw anything he saw. The images he wanted to put down on paper didn’t exist in the garden but inside his head. He almost never drew subjects like these, but he wanted to try. Opening the box of pastels, already well used, he selected one and began.

  Some time later, footsteps crunching on the path broke his concentration. He frowned. It was the first sound he’d heard except birdsong since he came outside. But no one would be looking for him—Velia and her aunt were spending the afternoon with Cathal’s mother and sisters. Flavian should have gone too to keep up the pretense, that had been evident from Velia’s disapproval, but he hadn’t.

  “Good afternoon.”

  Flavian looked up so quickly he felt his neck pop. From Cathal’s wince, he must have heard it. They stared at each other, a strange tension—part awkward, part something else entirely—building between them. Flavian didn’t know what to say. He wanted to pull Cathal down and kiss him, but he couldn’t do that.

  “Hello, Cathal,” he said belatedly. He wasn’t certain how long they’d stared at each other, but he could guess it had been too long without him saying anything.

  Cathal smiled, a small, gentle smile. “May I join you? I was looking for you.”

  The immediate zing of happiness was followed by something like foreboding. Flavian liked that Cathal had been searching for him, but seeing Cathal’s face as he sat beside him, Flavian wondered if Cathal’s purpose in looking for him was anything good.

  But at first, Cathal only sat, perhaps a little closer than was prudent, but they were alone in this corner of the garden so Flavian said nothing. Besides, secretly, he liked having Cathal close, so close Flavian could feel the warmth radiating from Cathal’s larger body.

  “I’m glad you’re using these.” Cathal held the box of pastels that he’d had to move to sit beside Flavian.

  “Thank you again for them.” He would have said more, but Cathal seemed transfixed by the piece Flavian had been working on before Cathal arrived. “Cathal?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, but this is wonderful. So vivid. I didn’t realize you drew anything like this.”

  He didn’t usually. The piece was bright, colorful, and not drawn from life. Very much not, since it contained drag
ons and the man-sized cats Flavian had seen in so much art since his arrival in Tournai. He eyed the piece critically.

  “I wasn’t certain it would work.”

  “It does. I love it.”

  Flavian couldn’t stop the smile from blooming if he wanted to. “Thank you.”

  “The cats look like Tournai’s cats.” Cathal glanced at him when he said it, making it more a question.

  “They’re meant to be. I’m not sure I got them right, though they are a legend so I suppose I can take some artistic license.”

  “I didn’t know you knew the legends.”

  Flavian shrugged. “I didn’t, not until I came here. Then I started seeing cats everywhere—the royal seal, statues, paintings. I was curious so I went to the palace library and read what I could find. The stories were interesting. There isn’t anything like them where I grew up.”

  Cathal was smiling again. “And the dragons?”

  “They’re from stories I was told as a child. Legends of dragons that once made their homes high in the mountains. If they ever existed, they aren’t in those mountains anymore.” Flavian stared at the drawing, surprised by the wave of melancholy. “I wouldn’t blame them for leaving. Ardunn isn’t a happy place any longer.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He shook himself out of his strange mood at Cathal’s quiet words. “It’s all right.”

  Cathal seemed to understand that Flavian didn’t want to talk about Ardunn. “So why are you drawing them today?”

  “I thought they might make a good gift for Their Highnesses, really for Prince Julien, I suppose. They might appeal to a child—though I don’t know, I don’t know much about children.”

  “I don’t either, but I think they will. The colors will appeal if nothing else.”

  Flavian laughed. He should have been insulted to have his art reduced to bright colors appealing to children, but he was drawing for a child. “Just something to express my gratitude for not locking me up, and to show off my talent. I’ll need patrons when I finally start making my way as an artist.”

  Cathal laughed, a lovely sound that Flavian wished he could hear more often. “I don’t think that’s your entire reason.” His hand lifted, as if he would touch Flavian, but dropped back to his lap.

  Disappointment welled up, but Flavian ruthlessly pushed it away. They were in a garden where anyone could see, and Cathal was betrothed to someone else.

  “I think Julien will like them. He’ll like them even more when he learns the stories.” Cathal studied the picture for a moment. “It really is wonderful, and a good idea. Most people would have done a portrait to show off their skills, of Julien or maybe Amory and Philip. Though I’m certain they would have appreciated a portrait of Julien.”

  Flavian drew back from Cathal. He had considered a portrait of the infant prince. Briefly. But he had been too afraid to try. He probably would have only seen an innocent child, but he couldn’t guarantee that. Once he had drawn a beautiful, innocent-looking child and was shown the type of boy who drowned kittens for fun. “I don’t do portraits.”

  Cathal tilted his head to the side and stared over Flavian’s shoulder for a moment. “Huh. I guess I haven’t seen you draw a portrait. Why don’t you? You’re so talented.”

  “I….” Flavian’s mind raced, his heart beating madly as he stared at Cathal. And suddenly he decided to trust. “I have another kind of Talent. The magical kind.”

  “You do? What is it?”

  “If I draw or paint someone, the drawing shows me the truth of the person. Who they are inside. Good or bad, generous or selfish, fair, deceitful. So many things about a person.” He looked at his drawing, not seeing more than blurs of vivid color as he remembered realizing what he could do, what he could see. “I don’t use it. I don’t like seeing.”

  Cathal’s hand covered his. “I can’t imagine how difficult that would be. I don’t know that I could handle it either.”

  Flavian shrugged.

  Cathal smiled and gave his hand a squeeze. “So, another secret. Do I know them all now?”

  “Do you want to?”

  “Very much.” There was such intensity in Cathal’s eyes—heat, yes, but not just heat. It took Flavian’s breath.

  “And what about me? Do I know all your secrets?” He tried to make it flirtatious, to not seem as affected by Cathal as he was.

  Cathal stared at him for a moment. Flavian could almost see him weighing something. Perhaps the same thing Flavian had considered just a moment ago. “Just one more. Would you like to see?”

  He wasn’t sure what Cathal meant by showing him—surely, he could simply tell Flavian his secret—but the certainty rang through him that he too wanted to know all of Cathal’s secrets. He wanted to know everything about Cathal, every secret, every joy and sorrow. He wanted to comfort Cathal as he had last night, support him when he needed it, delight in the good things that happened to him. Terrifying, all of it, and not more than a dream, but he wasn’t going to refuse what Cathal offered.

  “Yes, please. If you want to show me.”

  “I wouldn’t have asked otherwise.” Cathal stood and held a hand out to Flavian. “Come with me.”

  Flavian gathered his sketchbook and supplies and put his hand in Cathal’s, letting Cathal pull him to his feet. Cathal held on for a moment longer than necessary, looking down at their clasped hands. With a long breath, Cathal finally let Flavian’s fingers slip from his. Flavian blinked up at Cathal, his breath frozen in his chest.

  “This way,” Cathal said after a moment.

  Despite having no idea what just happened, Flavian walked at Cathal’s side, Cathal adjusting his pace to Flavian’s, which was a bit slower in his gown. Flavian turned over what that moment might mean, seeing Cathal staring at their joined hands. Flavian was so absorbed in the memory that he didn’t even pay attention to where Cathal led him and was confused after a few moments to find them heading deeper into the gardens instead of back toward the palace.

  They left the parts of the garden Flavian had seen before and took a path into a shady wooded area. The path wound through tall, old trees, by benches and the occasional statue of some fanciful subject. They walked past them all. Flavian wouldn’t have minded a look at some of the statuary, but he could always come back later.

  If he hadn’t trusted Cathal, Flavian would have wondered if he was being led away to his doom as they kept walking deeper into the more dense trees. It was shady and cool, and he doubted there was another person in all of the little wood—he assumed it was little, but he realized he really had no idea of the extent of the palace’s grounds. He heard nothing except their own footsteps on the path and birds and small animals in the trees.

  Cathal stopped in a small clearing far back in the trees. Flavian glanced back the way they came. The palace and its garden were hidden from view by the trees.

  “You’re confused.” Cathal’s voice vibrated with amusement.

  Flavian glared and then glared harder when Cathal just smiled. “Are you going to enlighten me any time soon?”

  Cathal laughed and caught Flavian’s hand, pulling him in for a fast kiss that cleared the frown from Flavian’s face. He swayed closer to Cathal and then jumped back, glancing around.

  “Don’t worry. No one ever comes out here,” Cathal said. “It’s why I brought you. We could have gone back to the palace, but there’s less chance of anyone coming upon us here than there would be going back to my rooms in the middle of the day.”

  Made sense. Flavian hadn’t even known this part of the palace grounds existed, and he hadn’t seen another person in all of their walk to the clearing. But he wondered what Cathal had to show him. It couldn’t be an object, or Cathal would have had to take him to a specific place. “All right.”

  Cathal took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. “There is a particular magical Talent that runs in the royal family.”

  “There is?” He’d heard nothing about a magical Talent of any kind
in the royal family either before or since he’d come to Tournai.

  “Yes. No one knows about it outside the family. It’s always been that way. I don’t know who made the decision, but we’ve all abided by it.”

  Flavian stared at Cathal, trying to figure out what was happening. “Cathal… what….”

  “But I’m going to tell you.” Cathal watched him for a moment, his eyes sparkling as he did. “Have I made you lose the power of speech again?”

  “No,” he snapped, but in truth he had. But Cathal couldn’t be saying what Flavian thought he was. “You’re going to tell me about the Talent that runs in the royal family of Tournai that no one is told about outside the royal family.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?” Why would Cathal ever tell him something so secret? He wasn’t a part of the royal family. He wasn’t even from Tournai. He was from a country that had apparently sent at least one spy to Tournai.

  “Because I want you to know about this, about me. And because I trust you to know and not share it with anyone.”

  It was said so simply, but it took the breath from Flavian. Cathal trusted him with his secret. Whatever it was. “Thank you. For trusting me.”

  Cathal smiled and brushed another kiss over Flavian’s lips. He stepped back before Flavian could try to prolong the kiss. “Ready to see?”

  “What am I about to see?”

  “A demonstration of the royal family’s Talent.” Cathal’s smile was a bit smug, a touch gleeful, as if he was enjoying Flavian’s reaction or perhaps anticipating what it would truly be.

  “What kind of demonstration?”

  “I’m going to show you what I can do.” Cathal stepped back several paces and stood facing Flavian. He smiled. “You’ve read the legends. Don’t be afraid.”

  Cathal was enjoying the whole thing far too much, which did not alleviate Flavian’s confusion or his rising annoyance. “Why would I be afraid? And what legends? Do you mean the cat legends? What do they have to do with—?”

  Cathal hushed him and laughed quietly. “Just watch.”

  Flavian folded his arms over his chest and glared at Cathal, which only made him laugh more. Not the reaction Flavian had hoped for, but before he could say anything else, Cathal closed his eyes and a shimmering amber-gold light surrounded him, swirling, sparkling, obscuring Cathal from view. A moment later, the gold faded away. Cathal wasn’t there anymore.