Seeing is Believing

by Sasha L. Miller

  Rathiel laughed again, shaking his head. "You haven't got a romantic bone in your body, do you Teo?"

  "Nope," Teofil admitted, finally setting the empty wine glass back down on the table with a loud clunk. Rathiel observed this with a smile, shaking his head.

  "That poor soul, he probably thinks you hate him. Or her, I suppose," Rathiel said contemplatively. "Do you have any idea who it could be?"

  "No," Teofil said, sighing. "But I think it's a 'them'."

  "Really," Rathiel said, his eyebrows raising.

  "It's not funny," Teofil said, scowling as Rathiel snickered at him. "Remember that poem my mother used to read us? That epic, by Masterson? They sent me that, on paper that probably cost more than my house is worth."

  Rathiel was laughing again, and Teofil rolled his eyes, wondering if he should assault a peer of the realm for being an unsympathetic ass.

  "Is that why you're upset? There's a couple behind it?" Rathiel asked when he managed to stifle his laughter.

  "No," Teofil muttered, wishing he had more wine. "But two of them, that pretty much guarantees they're just looking for someone to play with."

  "You don't know that, Teo," Rathiel said gently, laughter gone. "They could genuinely want you."

  "Hah," Teo scoffed, frowning morosely at the table. "They'll go away eventually. I hope."

  Rathiel shook his head, giving Teo a small, sad smile. Probably he liked the idea of Teofil finding someone the same way he'd gotten Cafon.

  "Take a chance, Teo," Rathiel urged, tilting his wine glass towards Teo imperatively. "It could work."

  "I don't even know who's behind it," Teo objected. "They're playing games now. How would that change when I find out who it is?"

  "Teo …" Rathiel started, looking more upset than he should. Maybe it was the wine. Sighing, Teofil covered his eyes with his hand, forcing away thoughts of the entire debacle.

  Forcing a smile, he let his hand drop and met Rathiel's unhappy gaze.

  "I'm sorry, I made dinner unhappy," Teofil apologize, awkwardly climbing to his feet and almost falling over. "I should go, it's late and I have to be to work in the morning."

  Wystan would laugh at him for overindulging in Rathiel's fine wine, too.

  "Don't be silly," Rathiel said firmly. "You're staying the night. I won't have you wandering drunk around town this late at night. You'll fall asleep in the road and be run down by a carriage."

  "I only did that once, and I wasn't run down," Teofil objected, but he let Rathiel hook arms with him and lead him from the dining room. "We were fourteen."

  "Yes, and ten years has not made you any less easy to get drunk," Rathiel told him pleasantly, his steps only a little wobbly as they helped each other up a flight of stairs. Teofil might have leaned more heavily on Rathiel than Rathiel did on him, but Rathiel didn't protest.

  He smelled good, too, Teofil's inebriated brain told him; like the wine and somewhat of a light, spicy scent that was probably an expensive cologne.

  "I'll make sure you're woken up in the morning so you can get to work," Rathiel told him. Teofil just nodded, horribly distracted by how close Rathiel was. It may have been the wine, but Teo really sort of wished it was Rath and Cafon behind the gifts and poetry. He might actually say yes to them.

  He'd have to yell at Rathiel for it though. Rathiel should know better than that—but it wasn't Rathiel and it wasn't Cafon, because Rathiel did know better and the two of them were completely happy with each other. They didn't need him.

  Teofil barely noticed when Rathiel led him into a bedroom, and he all but collapsed into the bed, confused and heavy from wine. Rathiel laughed at him quietly as he clumsily toed off his boots and settled into bed, his eyes closing as soon as his head hit the sinfully soft pillow.

  *~*~*

  Teofil woke up abruptly, confused and disoriented when he realized that he wasn't in his own bed and that it was far brighter than it should be. His first incoherent thought was that his secret courters had finally gotten sick of him not figuring it out and had kidnapped him in the night.

  Then the hangover kicked in and Teofil groaned, pulling the pillow over his head. He hadn't been kidnapped, he'd just been stupid enough to indulge in far too much wine at dinner last night.

  Wystan was going to laugh and laugh at him. Teofil made a face, letting himself enjoy the lovely soft bed a moment more before throwing back the covers and climbing from it.

  He was still wearing yesterday's clothes, but from how bright it was outside he didn't have time to go home and change. Likely he was late already. Teofil sighed, pausing to scrub his fingers through his hair as his head gave a vicious pang.

  Where were his shoes? Teofil stared at the floor next to the bed, trying to recall what he'd done with his shoes last night. It was in vain—everything was blurry; he remembered Rathiel laughing at him for the secret admirer, the smell of Rathiel's cologne, but not where he'd put his shoes.

  The door cracked open and Teofil straightened, surprised when Cafon peeked into the room.

  "You're awake," Cafon said cheerfully, a little loudly, and Teofil winced. Cafon laughed—quietly, thankfully—and let himself into the room. "Good morning."

  "Good morning," Teofil grumbled, managing a smile despite how much his head hurt. "I don't suppose you could help me find my shoes?" Teofil asked, casting about the empty floor again.

  "Leaving us so soon?" Cafon asked, crossing the room to the wardrobe. He opened the door and fished out Teofil's shoes triumphantly. "Rath always does that," he explained. "No matter how much he's had to drink."

  "I have to get to work," Teofil said, murmuring his thanks as Cafon handed him his shoes. "Ulgh."

  Cafon snickered, but wisely didn't say anything. "The earrings are perfect, by the way. Did Rath manage to convince you to give him a look?"

  "No," Teofil said, blowing a bit of hair from his face as he quickly pulled on his boots. Ignoring the warm, happy feeling from Cafon's praise, Teofil smiled a little as he straightened. "He didn't try very hard."

  The door opened quietly before Cafon could reply, and Rathiel stuck his head into the room. He looked better than Teofil felt, and he gave Cafon a reproving look.

  "I told you to leave him be," Rathiel admonished, slipping into the room. "Good morning, Teo. How are you feeling?"

  "Like I did get run down by a carriage," Teofil admitted ruefully, making Rathiel and Cafon snicker.

  "He was awake when I looked in," Cafon told Rathiel, casually wrapping an arm around Rathiel's waist when he got close enough. Teofil stifled a bit of jealously at how comfortable they were with each other, focusing on trying to brush the wrinkles from his shirt.

  "Mmhmm," Rathiel hummed suspiciously, a smile playing about his lips as he stared at Cafon. Cafon just grinned back, pleased about something—Rathiel, probably.

  "I need to go," Teofil spoke up, interrupting their moment. "Thank you for dinner and the bed."

  "It was my pleasure," Rathiel said automatically, turning away from Cafon to meet Teofil's eyes as he spoke. "You can't stay for a bit of breakfast?"

  "I don't think I could stomach breakfast," Teofil said with a grimace, confused as Cafon and Rathiel exchanged a look he couldn't read.

  "You'll have to come again," Rathiel said after a moment, smiling a little. Cafon pulled him a bit closer, giving Teofil a wide smile.

  "I for one would love to hear some embarrassing stories about Rath's childhood," Cafon said mischievously, smirking a bit at Rathiel.

  Rathiel groaned, but he smiled a little more widely. "Teo won't tell you. I've got just as much on him as he does on me."

  Teofil laughed, instantly regretting it as his head throbbed.

  "I'd like to come again," he offered, keeping his voice quiet so as to not upset his head any further. "But with less wine, perhaps?"

  "We can do that," Rathiel promised. He looked like he was about to say something more, but instead just smiled again, detangling himself from Cafon's grasp to offer his arm to
Teofil. "I'll walk you to the door. Did you want to borrow fresh clothes?"

  "No, Wystan would mock me even more for that," Teofil declined, accepting Rathiel's arm and wondering if this was another noble custom he wasn't aware of. Cafon didn't voice any objection, so probably.

  "I should have sent a servant to get you some clothes from your house," Rathiel said ruefully. "I confess, I wasn't thinking straight after the wine we drank last night."

  Teofil nodded wholeheartedly, and they lapsed into silence as Rathiel navigated them through hallways and staircases that Teofil must have traveled last night but didn't remember in the least. Cafon trailed behind them quietly, lost in his own thoughts.

  Teofil sighed, hoping that Wystan would wait until the worst of his headache had passed to tease him for spending the evening at Rathiel's.

  "It was good to see you again, Teo," Rathiel said quietly as they reached the front hallway. Cafon smiled affectionately as Rathiel kissed Teofil lightly on the cheek. "I hope things work out with your admirers."

  Teofil shook his head, not willing to think about that this early in the morning, and most certainly not when his head was hurting so much.

  "Thank you for keeping Rath company," Cafon said gravely, a smile lurking in his head. He stepped forward and copied Rathiel's gesture, except that he kissed Teofil's left cheek instead of the right. "He mopes when he's alone."

  "I do not," Rathiel protested, rolling his eyes. Teofil smiled a little at them, ignoring that his cheeks were too warm; the kisses were friendly gestures, after all.

  He made his goodbyes as quickly as he could, barely remembering to wish them a happy anniversary before he made his escape. On the street, Teofil refused to focus on anything except his headache, the unsettled state of his stomach, and what blackmail he could think up to keep Wystan from teasing him too much.

  *~*~*

  Teofil let himself into his house later than usual that evening. He barely glanced at the kitchen table as he entered; the roses were still there, but nothing new. Teofil wasn't sure whether he should be disappointed or relieved.

  Trudging into the kitchen, he decided to forgo dinner. He wasn't really hungry and he was tired enough that he would fall asleep quickly.

  Smiling faintly at the roses in the expensive crystal vase, Teofil froze when he realized that there was something new. A single, beautiful white rose now sat nestled into the center of the red and yellow roses, and as Teofil cautiously approached, he noticed the small envelope dangling from the side of the vase, tied with a dark red ribbon to the stem of the white rose.

  Teofil picked up the envelope, pulling the ribbon free. The envelope was made of costly paper, but it was lighter, not as stiff as the note with the poem. It was considerably thinner, and when Teofil opened it, it was considerably shorter as well—just three simple words that had Teofil's heart beating faster.

  In the bedroom.

  Glancing back to the dark room where he slept, Teofil wondered if he'd missed the author of the note last night.

  Taking a slow, apprehensive step towards the bedroom, Teofil chided himself soundly for not getting his locks changed before it came to this.

  It was probably just another gift; three expensive presents didn't seem like the right prelude for a naked display in his bed or something similarly disturbing, but he still couldn't think of any gift for his bedroom that wasn't creepy or perverse.

  Picking up the lantern from the kitchen, Teofil made his way to the bedroom slowly. The bedroom door was ajar, and he nudged it open with his foot.

  The room was empty. Everything was exactly as he'd left it yesterday morning. Teofil stared suspiciously, unnerved. Perhaps one of his admirers had waited for him last night. Teofil sighed, resolving to visit the locksmith tomorrow, no matter how busy the shop was, and then turned back towards the kitchen.

  Only to yelp in surprise as he almost ran headlong into the looming figure that had snuck up behind him, nearly dropping the lantern from his suddenly nerveless fingers. The man started laughing, and Teofil could only stare, flabbergasted, as he finally recognized Wystan.

  "The look on your face," Wystan crowed breathlessly, laughing again as Teofil glowered at him.

  "You're not funny," Teofil snapped, fixing his grip on the lantern so that he didn't actually drop it now. "I thought—"

  "Oh, don't be silly, Teo," Wystan dismissed, his laughter dying off. He straightened up and frowned at Teofil, looking unusually somber in the dim light from the lantern. "You've scared them off something fierce. I don't know what you said, but they're completely resigned to never winning your affection."

  "You know who it is?" Teofil demanded, but of course Wystan did. The man was a giant meddler; Teofil should have figured out his involvement sooner.

  "You do too, Teo," Wystan said, shaking his head ruefully. "I don't understand how you can be so insightful with jewelry design but fail so utterly at seeing this."

  Teofil flushed, pushing past Wystan into the kitchen. "That's not fair."

  Wystan had said they, and that he'd talked to them, but the only people he'd talked to about this were Cafon and Rathiel.

  "Figure it out?" Wystan asked from behind him as Teofil set down the lantern with shaky hands. "The both of them have been trying to catch your attention ever since you designed that damned ring last year."

  "But …" Teofil hadn't noticed any such thing. He hadn't even realized who Rathiel was until yesterday!

  "But you're oblivious to anything that isn't your work, so you didn't notice," Wystan filled in for him, shaking his head.

  "But why?" Teofil asked, unable to reconcile it. Rathiel and Cafon were obviously happy together. Why did they want to bother with him?

  "I don't know," Wystan said, shrugging. "That's something you should ask them. But I think if it were a fling they were after, they'd have given up on you months ago."

  Teofil nodded dumbly. It wasn't too late to visit them, was it? Teofil wavered, running his hands through his hair. He shouldn't. If he left it alone, they'd leave him alone. He wouldn't have to tell them that he knew … and they could be friends.

  He should change before he went. He'd been wearing this outfit since yesterday. Wystan snickered at him, drawing Teofil up short.

  "How did you get in here, anyway?" Teofil demanded, scowling at his boss in annoyance.

  "Everyone knows where you hide your spare key, Teo," Wystan said reasonably.

  "No, only you know," Teofil accused, glaring briefly at Wystan. There was no doubt in Teofil's mind that Wystan had aided and abetted Cafon and Rathiel in their secret admirer games.

  Ducking back into his bedroom, Teofil quickly changed into fresh clothes—dark blue, one of his best colors. Hesitating a moment, Teofil snatched up his brush and combed through his hair quickly.

  Wystan was collecting roses when he returned to the kitchen—he had the white one and a handful of the red.

  "Thana will like these," Wystan informed him happily. Teofil rolled his eyes, but didn't stop him. "You look nice, Teo."

  "I hate you," Teofil said absently, scooping up his key and tucking it into a pocket.

  "You can have tomorrow off," Wystan replied, smirking at him as he picked out another rose.

  "I'm not saying yes," Teofil snapped, annoyed that Wystan was assuming that just because he knew who it was … Well, he was running across town now, instead of doing the smart thing and waiting until morning. But there was no way he'd be able to sleep knowing it was Rathiel and Cafon.

  Wystan stared at him, his eyebrows raising in surprise.

  "I'm going to hear them out," Teofil said quietly, resisting the urge to run his hands through his hair again.

  "That's something at least," Wystan accepted grudgingly. "Take tomorrow off either way. I don't want to see you moping about the place."

  "I don't mope," Teofil protested, rolling his eyes and casting about for anything he might have forgotten. "Lock the door when you leave."

  Wystan nodded agreeably,
turning back to the large vase of roses and studying them thoughtfully.

  "The white rose was yours, right?" Teofil asked as he reached the front door, pausing in the doorway. He hadn't missed something there, too, had he?

  "Yes, Teo. Stop stalling," Wystan ordered, making a shooing motion. Teofil sighed, making a face at his interfering boss before finally letting himself out and heading back to Cafon's house.

  *~*~*

  Teofil hesitated on Cafon's front stoop, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. It was late—what if they were asleep? What if it had been a game and they laughed him off their front steps?

  What if they meant it, and they really wanted him?

  Teofil knocked before he could talk himself out of it. Wystan would never let him hear the end of it if he traveled all the way across town and then didn't even knock.

  The door opened after a long, agonizing moment, revealing a sleepy servant.

  "May I help you, sir?" The man asked, looking faintly disgruntled.

  "I need to speak with his lordship," Teofil said, making sure none of his uncertainty showed in his face or in his voice. He didn't want to be turned away now.

  "It's late," the servant said, frowning as he let Teofil in. "He may have retired for the evening."

  "I'd be obliged if you could check," Teofil said, offering a rueful smile. "It's important." At least, he thought it was.

  "Who shall I say is calling?" The servant asked resignedly, but his expression betrayed nothing when Teofil gave his name.

  "Wait here, please," the man directed, sweeping off into the house. Teofil waited nervously, his stomach doing somersaults as the minutes ticked by.

  The servant reappeared after a short age, the same blank expression on his face as before. "This way, sir."

  Teofil tried to pay attention to where he was being led, but he was too distracted by trying to figure out what he was going to say. However, they arrived too quickly at their destination and then he was being announced to Rathiel and Cafon.

  They were in a small study; Rathiel's, if the décor was anything to go by. Cafon was lounging in one of the stuffed armchairs by the desk. Rathiel stood next to him, looking faintly unhappy despite the earrings that glinted from his ears.