In his place was a huge, dark cat.
Chapter 21
A CURSE exploded out of Flavian, and he stumbled back a step. His heel caught in the hem of the skirt he’d forgotten about, and he lost his balance, landing hard on his backside on a bench he hadn’t realized was behind him. He swore again, a long string of vehement words that he finished with a rather pathetic “ow.”
Then he remembered the cat.
It was still sitting there, watching him, big head tilted to the side. The cat looked… amused. Could a cat be amused? He looked closer. Yes, there was definitely amusement in the cat’s gold eyes. Gold eyes that looked a lot like Cathal’s. And the expression in them… that looked a lot like Cathal too, when he looked at Flavian with indulgent amusement.
He struggled to push himself up straighter on the bench. “Cathal?”
The cat nodded its—his—head.
“Oh, um… well.” Thoughts flitted through his head, but he couldn’t quite grasp any one. Cathal. Could turn into a cat.
The cat—Cathal—took a step toward Flavian. He sucked in a breath and froze. Cathal froze too, seeming to draw back on himself. Quite a feat for a large cat. Flavian realized what he’d done and shook his head. “No, Cathal, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. You can—come closer?”
Cathal watched him for a moment before walking slowly forward, paws padding over the grass, muscles moving under a sleek coat with every graceful, sinuous step. Cathal was… magnificent. Flavian wanted to draw him as a cat, so much it was almost enough for him to ignore his rule against portraits and grab for his sketchbook.
Instead, he reached out a hand. “May I….”
Cathal nodded, and Flavian let his hand come to rest on Cathal’s head, burying his fingers in the surprisingly soft fur there. Without even thinking about it, he began to stroke his hand over the fur. So soft, silky even. His other hand came up, as if under its own volition, and smoothed over the fur of Cathal’s neck, shoulder. For long moments, he stroked his hands over the dark fur, noting absently the color wasn’t really black, more a deep, deep brown, and enjoying the feel under his fingers. And then he realized he was essentially petting his lover, who could turn into a giant cat, as he might a kitten. Flavian froze, but Cathal was… purring. Purring and nuzzling his face into Flavian’s hands.
Flavian laughed, but he resumed petting. “You’re shameless like this.”
Then he thought about Cathal in bed, always seeming to push into Flavian’s hands, into his caresses. Perhaps Cathal didn’t just shamelessly beg to be petted as a cat. Flavian laughed more. Cathal was watching, gold eyes and the expression in them just the same as when he was a man. If he’d needed more proof that Cathal was the cat, Flavian could have found it there.
Cathal could use magic to turn himself into a cat. And he’d said the Talent was passed down in the royal family, so other members of the family had the same ability. Prince Philip? What about the princess? He could see what Cathal meant about the legends. Certainly those legends had to have their roots somehow in the royal family’s magic. And Cathal had chosen to tell Flavian when they told no one outside the family. The trust that showed left Flavian floundering even more now that he knew what the secret was.
Cathal stretched forward and rubbed his cheek against Flavian’s. Flavian laughed again, delighted at the action and tickled by the cat’s fur. He looped his arms around Cathal’s shoulders, surprised at himself that he was hugging Cathal so easily, cat or not. He wasn’t usually one to hang all over someone, but he wanted to hold on to Cathal.
“So,” he said finally, “this is your secret. The Talent that runs in the royal family of Tournai is that you all can turn into enormous cats. I can’t say I expected that when you brought me out here.”
The shimmering gold cloud appeared again, warm and tingling where it touched Flavian, and disappeared before Flavian could even move. When it did, Cathal was a man again, and Flavian’s arms were still looped around his shoulders. Cathal leaned forward and pecked him on the lips. “And what did you expect?”
Flavian sat back, letting his hands slide forward to rest against Cathal’s shoulders. “Why did you—oh, can you not talk when you’re a cat? That was a bizarre question to ask.”
Cathal laughed and kissed Flavian again. “I doubt you ever thought you would be asking it.”
“No. Never dreamed of it.”
“To answer the bizarre question, I can talk but not well. You probably wouldn’t be able to understand me if I tried.” He leaned forward again to kiss Flavian. “Best I just change back. Besides, then I can do this too.”
Cathal continued laying a trail of light little kisses over Flavian’s lips and cheeks, jaw and neck. Featherlight whispers of kisses that made Flavian flush and shiver. His hands squeezed Cathal’s shoulders, but he didn’t know if he was trying to push Cathal away or pull him closer. Oh, he wanted to pull him closer.
“We can’t do this,” Flavian whispered.
Cathal sighed, the air rushing over Flavian’s neck. He shivered again, and Cathal chuckled. Flavian gave in and ran a hand through Cathal’s soft, dark hair as Cathal kissed him.
“I like when you do that.”
“I can tell.” Flavian smiled, but he sat back, putting a little more space between him and Cathal, even though it hurt him to do so.
“No one can see us, and we’d hear anyone coming long before they get to us. But we can’t anyway. I have to go into the city this afternoon.” Cathal gave every evidence of reluctance as he sat back. “We’re questioning the spy again today.”
Flavian didn’t even hesitate to reach out this time and run his hand over Cathal’s hair, letting it settle on the back of Cathal’s neck. “Doesn’t sound like a pleasant afternoon.”
“No, not especially. But it will be worthwhile if we can learn something from him that will lead us to the other spies the emperor sent to Tournai.”
And Cathal would perform any task to the best of his ability if it was in the best interests of Tournai, no matter how much he might not want to do it. “I hope you learn something, then.”
“Me too.” Cathal stood and dusted off his knees. “I’ll likely be late again, so I doubt I’ll see you at dinner. A group of musicians is to play afterward, but I don’t know if I’ll be back for that.”
“Everyone will understand your absence.”
“I don’t know that everyone will.” Cathal shrugged, as if it didn’t matter, but Flavian knew he thought of his father. It had to be difficult for him. “I’d like to see you. After.”
Seeing Cathal later meant going back to his rooms, which was risky. Flavian was testing his luck every time he snuck over there. It had to be only a matter of time before someone saw him. But he wanted to see Cathal again. He wanted to finish what they started here this afternoon. “Yes, I’d like to see you too.”
“Good.” Cathal pulled Flavian to his feet and lingered over a kiss. “Walk back to the palace with me?”
“I’m going to stay in the garden for a while.”
Cathal nodded. “I’ll see you later, then.”
Flavian watched Cathal walk away. Flavian had no idea what he thought he was doing with Cathal. But he also didn’t want to stop doing it.
CATHAL RODE back to the palace well after dark that night, just as he’d predicted. But tonight, he wasn’t as low as he had been last night. He could attribute it to a slightly more productive day than yesterday had been, but he knew it was because Flavian was waiting for him. Knowing Flavian would be there changed so much.
He wanted to return to his suite as soon as he got back, on the chance that Flavian was there already, but he had to see Philip. He had more to report, more than he’d had the night before, and that duty took precedence over his own wants.
Amory ushered Cathal into the princes’ cozy sitting room when he arrived, telling Cathal they had just returned from listening to the musicians with a small party of guests. He provided Cathal with a drink and urged him to sit,
as he went to get Philip, who was checking on Julien. They returned immediately, so the baby must have been sleeping. Philip poured two more drinks and sat with Amory, both men turning their attention to Cathal.
“I assume you have somewhere else you want to be tonight, so just give us an overview. We can save details for the morning, unless there’s something that needs immediate action.” Philip grinned in a way that was all too knowing.
“Stop it,” Amory said, but the rebuke was a gentle one, and Philip only wound an arm around him and pulled him close.
Cathal didn’t remark on any of it, but he wondered if he and Flavian might ever have that ease together. He hoped they would—hoped they would have the chance to develop it.
“The prisoner is smart and arrogant. He knows we have him, but he’s still trying to play with us. He likes that he knows things we don’t.”
“Did we get anything from him?” Philip asked.
Cathal nodded. “Enough for us to piece together that the spies are passing information in a series of shops in Jumelle. Marcus is trying to pin down the method, and he’s setting his people to watch the shops. It doesn’t sound as if the shopkeepers are involved, but that’s something we need to ascertain. Hopefully, watching will give us some indication of that.”
“I don’t want to question anyone too closely and risk alerting the spies if we don’t have to,” Philip said. “Any information about the possibility of a spy in the palace?”
“He’s keeping quiet about it, and even a truth potion won’t force him to speak. He is very smug about there being someone closer to us than we think. Someone we wouldn’t expect.” Cathal sipped from his glass, relishing the spreading warmth of the liquor. “I think—and Marcus agrees—that he was trying to get us angry, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t telling the truth.”
“We need to find them.” Philip’s frustration was clear in those few words. Amory began rubbing his hand over Philip’s thigh, soothing.
Cathal forced his eyes away from that small act of comfort. “We do. But we need to be careful here too. If we question everyone in the palace, we could easily warn the spy.”
“We need to be discreet. Though the other spies could already be on their guard if they’ve figured out we’ve captured one of their fellows.”
“He hasn’t given us any indication of when or how often he was supposed to pass information or check in with the others, so there’s little way of knowing,” Cathal said. “He was picked up coming out of one of the shops that are on our list. We can only hope he won’t be expected to make contact for a while. That could buy us some time.”
“We can hope. And until then, this stays quiet.”
Cathal nodded. He should inform Philip that he’d told Flavian about the spy, but he didn’t. He could trust Flavian. He knew he could. “I’ll have a report for you on the rest in the morning.”
“I know. Go.” Philip broke into a wicked grin. “Say hello to Flavian for us.”
“Philip,” Amory said, the rebuke slightly less gentle, but with little real annoyance, considering Philip had pulled him so close over the course of their discussion that he was nearly in Philip’s lap. When he looked at Cathal, Amory had more than a bit of compassion in his eyes. “Have you spoken to him yet?”
“Not yet.” He’d meant to that afternoon, but then Flavian’s drawing and Cathal’s decision to tell Flavian about his magic left talking to him about their future—potential future—by the wayside. “Tonight.”
“I hope it goes well.” Amory smiled, supportive. And Cathal was suddenly happy that his actions hadn’t permanently harmed his friendship with Amory.
“Me too.”
Cathal left them soon after. Tonight, he went directly to his rooms, too eager to see Flavian to even think about going to his office. He wasn’t sure if Flavian would be waiting, or where—he should have gotten a key to Flavian somehow so he could have gone inside. Cathal didn’t want to leave the door unlocked for fear of Father letting himself in and making himself at home. And if Father found Flavian there… it didn’t bear thinking about. But Flavian could probably hold his own against Father, probably better than Cathal could.
Cathal didn’t need to test that yet. If Flavian stayed with Cathal, well, then they would see.
He unlocked his door and then looked behind him. For a moment, he didn’t think Flavian was there, but something caught the low light of the corridor, and Flavian stepped out of the shadows. Cathal stepped back, letting Flavian hurry past him. He shut the door behind them both and grabbed Flavian.
Swallowing Flavian’s yelp in a kiss, he pulled the shorter man up and tight against him. He’d wanted to kiss him all day, to drown all his worries in Flavian, to just be with Flavian. To forget how Flavian had to hide everything, had to sneak around even to see Cathal. After a brief hesitation, Flavian’s arms came up to wind around Cathal’s shoulders, his fingers threading through the hair at the back of Cathal’s head. The tug of those fingers, not quite painful, sent a shiver down Cathal’s spine.
He tried to pull back from the kiss, just long enough to talk to Flavian, but Flavian chased him, pressing his lips to Cathal’s again, delving into Cathal’s mouth to explore and taste. Perhaps he gave up too quickly, but Flavian wasn’t going to end the kiss any time soon, and Cathal really didn’t want him to, so he held tighter to Flavian and lifted him off his feet, walking with him to the bedchamber.
Flavian tore his lips away with a gasp. “What?”
“I thought we could be more comfortable, and you could get out of these clothes. Be more yourself.” He carried Flavian all the way to the bed before setting him back on his feet.
“That would be good. If you get yourself out of these clothes too.” Flavian tugged on Cathal’s sleeve.
“That was the next part of my plan,” Cathal said, watching as Flavian began unfastening his gown.
“There’s a plan, is there? Am I going to like it?” Flavian tossed a blatantly flirtatious look up at Cathal from under his lashes. Cathal liked this side of Flavian. He wanted to see more of it.
“I think you will.” At least the first part. He wasn’t certain how Flavian would react to the discussion Cathal wanted to have. Later. After.
They stripped themselves and each other of their clothes, laughing a little as their hands tangled, as they paused for quick kisses that went on longer than intended. Flavian yanked the pins from his hair, tossing aside the hairpiece and shaking out his own wavy, chin-length locks. Cathal combed his fingers through Flavian’s hair, rubbing his fingertips over Flavian’s scalp in slow circles. Flavian’s eyes fell shut on a long hum of pleasure.
“Feels good.” Flavian let his head fall forward, resting his forehead on Cathal’s chest.
Cathal smiled and took the wordless cue, rubbing and dancing his fingers through Flavian’s hair, enjoying every sensual sound that came out of Flavian’s mouth as he did. Flavian’s hands came up to clutch Cathal’s hips, first just holding on, then rubbing and massaging Cathal’s muscles in his turn. And then one hand slid down to Cathal’s hard length, stroking firmly.
“Flavian.” He hardly recognized the strangled sound as his own voice. “Flavian.”
Flavian lifted his head, a delightfully wicked smile curving his kiss-swollen lips. “Yes?”
Cathal battled back laughter at the innocent tone that was so blatantly false, but the gleam in Flavian’s eyes said Flavian knew despite Cathal’s efforts. “Bed, Flavian.”
“Yes, my lord.” Another of those maddening looks tossed over a shoulder as Flavian turned and climbed into the bed, every movement slow and languid, accentuating lean muscles under pale gold skin, long legs and rounded backside. He crawled to the middle of the bed and stretched out on his back, looking at Cathal.
“Flavian.” It was a strangled groan that he couldn’t even be embarrassed by. What had gotten into Flavian? Where had this creature been all the time he’d known Flavian?
Flavian reached out a hand to Cathal, be
ckoning. “Come here.”
He didn’t need to be told twice. He shouldn’t have had to be told once. Settling over Flavian, letting Flavian pull him down into another kiss and against his body, Cathal luxuriated the feel of Flavian’s smooth skin against his. Flavian’s hands caressed and mapped Cathal’s back, as they kissed. Cathal knew the body under his, was confident he could please Flavian—a state so far removed from the first time they’d been together it didn’t even compare—but it was far from boring. He didn’t think he would ever tire of Flavian. It was the first time he had ever been certain of that with anyone.
“I want to be inside you again. Please?” he whispered as he kissed and nibbled at the place on Flavian’s neck he knew made Flavian crazy.
“Yes,” Flavian gasped out, arching against Cathal. “Yes, now.”
“I do love how demanding you are.” He moved off Flavian to find the oil on the nightstand and turned back to find Flavian had turned onto his stomach, presenting him with the same delectable view he’d had when Flavian had climbed onto the bed. “You’re trying to kill me.”
“Not at all.” Flavian shivered and moaned as Cathal began to kiss his way down Flavian’s spine. “Like this, all right?”
“Yes.” He kept kissing and nibbling as he coated his fingers with the oil and readied Flavian. Only when Flavian was writhing and moaning and cursing did Cathal remove his fingers and push slowly, smoothly inside.
He moaned along with Flavian when he felt Flavian’s body surround him. It was so good, so very good. He’d thought he must have been exaggerating it in his mind since the first time, but no. Being with Flavian really was that good, better than anything he could remember with anyone else. Because it was Flavian—because of how he felt about Flavian. He had never loved anyone before.
The Artist’s Masquerade Page 27
