Seeing is Believing

by Sasha L. Miller

  "Anton Forscythe," Anton admitted slowly, wondering if Sabrel would make the connection.

  "Anton Forscythe," Sabrel spoke his name slowly, turning towards him on the chair. His knee brushed against the side of Anton's leg, but Anton didn't move, watching Sabrel's face for a trace of comprehension.

  "It matters, you know," Anton changed the subject, and Sabrel shook his head, leaning against the back of the chair. "Does he hit you often?"

  "No," Sabrel smiled slowly. "I made him really mad."

  "You could come with me." The words slipped out of his mouth before he could stop them. Sabrel laughed, that little, unhappy smile turning his lips again.

  "As long as I brought my father's papers with me, right?" Sabrel asked, pushing curls from his face. "So, Anton, why are you here? It's not to help Theodore. Not even Theodore is here to help Theodore."

  "Can I trust you to not tell your father?" Anton asked, hoping that he wasn't about to make a serious mistake.

  "I haven't said anything yet," Sabrel shrugged, sagging a little in his seat. "I assume you're after him to either get his business enterprises for yourself or to bring him to justice for some of it."

  "The second," Anton confirmed, running a hand through his hair. "There have been attempts before, I know—"

  "Six of them," Sabrel muttered, and Anton felt a little uneasy that Sabrel could announce that so easily. Likely it had been some of Sabrel's doing that the previous attempts had been caught. "And nearly a dozen trying to get Wilheim's business deals themselves."

  "Oh," Anton frowned, dragging his hands through his hair. "Look, I'm supposed to charm you into helping us out, or at least keeping quiet—"

  "So charm me," Sabrel cut him off, smiling slowly. "Make me grand promises that you could never fulfill—"

  "Whatever you want, I can do," Anton promised immediately. "Anything."

  "Anything," Sabrel repeated, shaking his head a little. "I don't believe you. Are you a policeman, Anton Forscythe?"

  "Sort of," Anton shrugged. "I work for law enforcement."

  "Which means you're not a policeman," Sabrel interpreted. "Possibly a Kingsman?"

  "I couldn't tell you that if I was," Anton pointed out, and Sabrel smiled a little, shifting to lean closer to him.

  "What if it was part of my anything?" Sabrel asked slowly, his eyes intent on Anton. "What if I told you I'd give you Wilheim on a silver platter if you killed someone for me?"

  "I—" Anton stared, taken aback.

  "Right," Sabrel sighed, shaking his head. "If you follow through with your plan to break into the library in two days, Wilheim will catch you."

  "There's no plan to—" Anton paused, because that was the logical next step if he didn't get anything here. The door opened before he could think of something else to say, and Anton frowned, still thrown by Sabrel's odd behavior. Hilsner stared at them strangely, and Anton watched as Sabrel blushed—

  Blushed, because they were sitting close, and Anton wondered if he'd missed an avenue here because he'd been so set on not seeing Sabrel as anything more than a means to Wilheim's papers.

  "Mr. Homes," Hilsner beckoned, and Anton stood up quickly, trying to catch Sabrel's eye as he left. Sabrel didn't look at him though, still blushing as he snagged his book again.

  *~*~*

  "Sabrel."

  Sabrel glanced up leisurely, half-curious because Hilsner never spoke to him directly, not unless his father was there.

  "Yes?" Sabrel asked, and Hilsner shut the door to the sitting room behind him. Hilsner was the seventh assistant Wilheim had hired, and he'd been around for only a year.

  "Your father wouldn't be happy to hear that you've been keeping things from him," Hilsner said carefully, watching Sabrel intently. Sabrel shrugged a little, wondering how much Hilsner had heard.

  "Have you told him?" Sabrel asked curiously, but he had to think no—why would Hilsner bother to bring it up, if he had?

  "No," Hilsner crossed the room slowly, frowning a little. "Are you going to use him?"

  "Use him?" Sabrel questioned coolly.

  "Are you going to use him to be rid of Wilheim?" Hilsner rephrased, pausing a few steps away as though uncertain whether he should sit near or next to Sabrel.

  "Afraid I'd turn you in, too?" Sabrel asked curiously, looking back down at the text spread across his lap.

  "No," Hilsner drawled slowly, and Sabrel glanced up to find him smiling. "I have another offer for you."

  "Oh?" Sabrel asked, going still. Hilsner stepped closer, looking pleased with himself.

  "You have a rare talent for Seeing, Sabrel," Hilsner told him slowly. "My boss would be pleased to have you as an addition."

  "With the business you'd bring him from Wilheim," Sabrel interpreted.

  "You'd have greater freedom and no one would lay a finger on you." Hilsner eyed his bruised eye significantly.

  "Hmm," Sabrel murmured, amused. He hadn't thought Hilsner had it in him to be anything but meek. His father had to be similarly taken in, if he hadn't asked Sabrel to look regarding Hilsner.

  "Well?" Hilsner asked, and Sabrel shrugged.

  "I won't tell him," Sabrel smiled a little because he'd said that to Anton too.

  "And about the offer?" Hilsner asked.

  "Who is your boss?" Sabrel asked curiously, wondering which of the other 'businessmen' who were involved the more illegal side of Wilheim's business had managed to get Hilsner in here.

  "Kendra," Hilsner replied, frowning a little like he wasn't sure whether he should be saying it. Sabrel nodded.

  "I'll think about it," Sabrel finally conceded, smiling a little bit. Hilsner nodded after a moment, and Sabrel let his gaze fall back to the open book in front of him. He'd think about it after Hilsner left, of course. Not that he really relished the idea of going from being Wilheim's Seer to someone else's pet Seer.

  "I will ask again tomorrow," Hilsner finally said. Sabrel didn't bother to look up in acknowledgement, idly flipping a page in his book. The door to the sitting room opened and shut a moment later, and Sabrel was left alone, with now two people hoping that he'd help them take Wilheim out.

  *~*~*

  "Mr. Homes," Hilsner stopped him before he could enter the sitting room again, a hand on his arm keeping him from turning the doorknob. Wilheim had been getting more suspicious it seemed, and Anton had been called in to verify that Theo was practically bankrupt trying to keep Wilheim satisfied with the amounts of money he'd come up with already.

  Wilheim hadn't been much impressed, and luckily was pressing for just a little more in the way of money, which meant Anton would have a least one more visit before Wilheim finally got sick of them. Theo and Wilheim were negotiating again, and he'd been kicked out, escorted to the sitting room by Hilsner the assistant.

  "Yes?" Anton asked, frowning a little.

  "Sabrel is a very … sensitive boy," Hilsner stated delicately. "Your attentions are making him nervous."

  "My attentions?" Anton asked, trying to play dumb. He hadn't honestly meant to be sitting that close to Sabrel.

  "You know what I mean," Hilsner narrowed his eyes. "It would be best if you kept your distance. Sabrel gets unpredictable when he's pressed."

  "Right," Anton agreed awkwardly, wondering why that sounded like Hilsner was trying to help him get in good with Sabrel. Hilsner took his hand off Anton's arm, stepping back a pace.

  "Master Epson will be by when he's finished with the meeting," Hilsner gestured him inside. Anton nodded, letting himself in.

  Sabrel didn't look up, and Anton sighed quietly, shutting the door behind him. Hilsner was already walking down the hallway, and Anton pressed his palm against his forehead. This was entirely too complicated for a first mission.

  "Hello, again," Sabrel greeted, looking faintly amused. Anton smiled, moving to sit in the chair adjacent to the loveseat instead of sitting next to Sabrel again. "Come to charm me some more?"

  "I could try?" Anton offered a smile. "I'm a little hopeless."
>
  "I've noticed," Sabrel told him solemnly, shutting his book and setting it aside. "Where are you staying, Anton?"

  "What do you mean?" Anton frowned, not quite as willing to give that up. As far as he knew, Wilheim didn't know that at all. Yet.

  "Where is that tiny little room with one cot that you and Theo are sharing?" Sabrel asked, and Anton was a little disconcerted because, yes, Sabrel was a Seer, but what had he seen? Sabrel frowned abruptly, sitting up a little. "How do you afford a bet of fifty gold?"

  "Um," Anton stammered, startled and trying to think fast. "We get paid well."

  "Very well, for something you're not so good at." Sabrel frowned at him, pushing his hair out of his face.

  "I'd say I resent that, but I think you're right," Anton replied morosely, sighing. He couldn't seem to make any headway with Sabrel, and Sabrel had the upper hand in everything it seemed.

  "Hmm," Sabrel stood up, raking his hands through his hair. "I—you'll be back."

  "Yes," Anton replied slowly, watching Sabrel pace. "Not breaking in, though."

  Sabrel smiled a little at that but didn't reply.

  "Why?" Anton asked, standing up himself. Sabrel turned back towards him, startled into stopping when he almost walked right into Anton. Anton unthinkingly reached out and steadied him, his hands landing on Sabrel's shoulders lightly.

  Sabrel opened his mouth, then shut it, staring at Anton wordlessly. Anton wished again that he could read Sabrel better, because he could get nothing from Sabrel's face as he stared at Anton.

  "I can think," Sabrel finally said quietly, his eyes dropping to stare at Anton's chest. Sabrel was a few inches shorter than him, Anton realized, slowly letting his hands drop from Sabrel's shoulders. "I'll think."

  "Okay," Anton accepted, not stepping away even though he should. Perhaps getting Sabrel to do something unpredictable would be a good thing? Sabrel didn't step away either, and Anton hoped that no one would come by soon because it would be rather hard to explain away how close they were standing.

  Sabrel looked up at him searchingly, and Anton had to clench his fingers together tightly to keep from reaching out and touching him. It would be so easy, to just touch Sabrel's cheek lightly, or to lean in that little bit and kiss him—

  "Oh!" Sabrel stepped back, his eyes wide, and he whirled, throwing himself into the loveseat. Anton stared, perplexed, but Sabrel was blushing furiously and then the door opened and Theo stepped in.

  "Let's go," Theo snapped, pausing when he caught sight of Sabrel blushing. He smirked a bit, but didn't say anything as Anton moved towards the door a bit woodenly. Sabrel just stared at Theo, crossing his arms as the blush died from his cheeks.

  "Bye," Anton said as he reached the door, and Sabrel smiled just a little but didn't reply. Theo was scowling again as he led the way towards the door, and Anton followed, confused and wanting nothing more than to go back and demand real answers from Sabrel, and actually touch that soft, pale skin.

  *~*~*

  "Sabrel." Wilheim's voice was harsh, and Sabrel's fingers tightened briefly around his book. He continued shutting the door, letting the latch snick shut quietly before turning to face Wilheim. "In my office, now."

  Sabrel nodded, moving to comply without hesitation. Perhaps Wilheim had realized Sabrel was keeping things from him. Perhaps Hilsner was a test—or Anton. Sabrel stepped past Wilheim, entering the office. It was neatly arranged, as Wilheim didn't do much in here and let Miriam in to clean.

  Sabrel sat down in one of the chairs across from the desk, ignoring the uncomfortable stiffness Wilheim had picked the chairs out for. He didn't want anyone he did business with to be comfortable here after all. Wilheim moved to sit behind the desk, Hilsner hovering behind him with a blank face. Sabrel tried not to let his eyes stray to the sword hanging on the wall behind Wilheim's desk. The sword he kept dreaming about—the sword Wilheim had used when he'd won Sabrel's mother's hand in marriage.

  "Have you seen anything you want to tell me about, Sabrel?" Wilheim asked, his voice dangerously low. Sabrel stared at him for a long moment, wondering what Wilheim knew.

  "Nothing," Sabrel said finally, staring back at Wilheim at least as intently as Wilheim was staring at him.

  "Nothing," Wilheim repeated, the word rolling off his tongue easily. "I thought, Sabrel, that we'd been over this well enough that you wouldn't be tempted to lie to me again."

  Sabrel stared blankly at Wilheim, keeping calm even as his heart beat faster. He just had to keep his cool, and not lose it. Wilheim couldn't prove Sabrel was keeping anything from him, unless Hilsner had been a test.

  "Someone," Wilheim hissed, leaning forward, towards Sabrel. Sabrel barely kept himself from flinching back, moving instead to fold his hands together in his lap. "Someone is betraying me. Someone is setting me up to take a fall. Sabrel?"

  "Hilsner," Sabrel stated, watching Hilsner jump. Sabrel stared at his father's assistant for a long moment. "To Kendra."

  "That's ridiculous!" Hilsner exploded, spots of color flooding his cheeks. Wilheim stared at Sabrel for a long moment.

  "What have you seen?" Wilheim asked, and Sabrel shook his head.

  "I saw nothing." Sabrel frowned a little, tapping the cover of his book. "He offered me freedom, to work for her."

  "Why did you not inform me of this immediately?" Wilheim demanded, and Hilsner stepped forward.

  "He is making this up—" Hilsner protested, and Wilheim shot him a dark look, standing.

  "He asked while you were meeting with Epson," Sabrel supplied dutifully, watching dully as Wilheim turned on Hilsner.

  "I have had many assistants in the past, Hilsner," Wilheim snarled. "You are not irreplaceable and even if he lies, I grow tired of the way you stare at him. You have one day to leave the city and then my marksmen will have your name."

  Hilsner paled, but opened his mouth to protest. Wilheim pointed to the door, and snapped, "Go."

  Hilsner pivoted on his heel and stalked out the door, slamming it behind him. Sabrel waited patiently, because that wouldn't be all. Wilheim would want to know about Anton—

  "How did your meeting go with Homes?" Wilheim asked, sitting down once more. Sabrel shrugged.

  "He wondered about my eye," Sabrel smiled a little, amused as Wilheim's face darkened. "I told him I tripped. I am awfully clumsy."

  "Is he telling the truth about who he is?" Wilheim demanded, clearly unamused.

  "He lives in an inn. He and Theo have friendly wagers on how long servers will last in one of Anton's inns, and he's worried for his friend," Sabrel listed off. It was mostly truth, embellished, and he couldn't say he hadn't seen anything.

  "Try for more. I want to be sure," Wilheim ordered. "Now get out, I have to find a new assistant."

  Sabrel nodded, standing up. He headed across the room, unsurprised when Wilheim spoke up again as he reached the door.

  "If I find you lied, Sabrel, I will make good on the promise I made the last time you tried," Wilheim threatened. Sabrel didn't look back, simply opened the door and stepped into the hallway. His hands shook, but he ignored it, clenching them around his book and heading upstairs to the library.

  *~*~*

  Sabrel smiled up at the pretty blue sky, completely relaxed as he lay in the lush grass. He could smell the lilacs from the bush near the garden's entrance, and the soft noise of the birds that made their home in the garden was relaxing enough that if he wasn't careful, he'd fall asleep again.

  Sabrel's smile widened, and he let his eyes slip shut. The sun was too bright, of course, so even though the garden was peaceful and relaxing and he hadn't gotten a proper amount of sleep last night, he wasn't falling asleep.

  He hadn't been dozing for long when a soft chuckle woke him completely. The grass had muffled the sound of footsteps approaching, and Sabrel didn't bother to move as a shadow abruptly cut off the sunlight falling on his face.

  "How did I know you'd be out here?" Anton asked, a smile curving his lips as he stared down at Sabrel. S
abrel opened his eyes, squinting against the halo of light that the sun cast about Anton.

  "Hmm," Sabrel murmured thoughtfully, smiling slowly at the look on Anton's face. He knew that look. Anton laughed, dropping to his knees carelessly before sprawling out next to Sabrel. "You're going to get scolded for grass stains."

  "So?" Anton grinned, leaning over him, and Sabrel laughed a bit into Anton's mouth as he was kissed softly. Letting his eyes slip shut again, Sabrel lazily kissed back, reaching up to slide one hand into Anton's hair as Anton's hand slid across his stomach slowly.

  "Mmm, so the maids will scold you," Sabrel replied, his lips brushing against Anton's as he spoke. Anton kissed him again, sending tingles across his skin.

  "I can live with that." Anton's lips curved briefly, and Sabrel didn't bother to reply, tugging at Anton's hair gently to get another kiss from him. Anton laughed softly, but complied to the unspoken command, finally kissing Sabrel properly.

  Sabrel kissed back desperately, suddenly driven to taste all he could of Anton. Anton seemed just as desperate, his hands slipping under Sabrel's shirt—

  And then a rough hand latched onto Sabrel's wrist and yanked hard. Sabrel tumbled away, somehow on his feet when he'd been sprawled in the peaceful garden moments before.

  "Did you really think you could get away with double-crossing me?" Wilheim thundered, his face red. Sabrel opened his mouth to protest because he wouldn't—only he didn't have time as Wilheim lunged, propelling the sword he held straight through Sabrel's chest.

  Sabrel stared down, gasping out short little breaths as pain shot through him. Blood ran down his hand, and he clutched at the sword's blade, doing nothing more than slicing open his fingers and palms.

  "Wait for me," a soft voice whispered in Sabrel's ear, and Sabrel thought it might've been Anton's but everything hurt now and he couldn't tell—

  *~*~*

  Sabrel gasped, curling slightly as he tried to not think. His body tingled, like there really had been pain coursing through every inch of it and it had only gone away when he woke. He didn't understand, it didn't make sense—

  "What did you dream?" Wilheim demanded, and Sabrel winced as Wilheim opened the shutter on the night lantern he kept at his bedside.