by Megan Derr
"I don't care," Jewell said, lifting his chin.
"No, Highness, you wouldn't. You are comfortable in society, and outside of it. You move with confidence in whatever you do. You are educated and knowledgeable. You are wealthy and powerful in your own right, even should you turn away from your family. But that young man has nothing. He does not have your background, your money, your security. Should the two of you do something reckless and stupid, only to eventually go your separate ways, he will be the one left broken."
"I would never—"
"You are not even twenty-one, Jewell," Daimon said sharply, gray eyes flashing. "Boys fall in and out of love in the span of a day. I advise you to run away until your parents can be persuaded against their latest demands. Do not drag that boy into it."
Jewell nodded, feeling miserable all over again. "Fine. But I want to leave him a note, and I'll deliver it myself!" He reached angrily for the soap and began to roughly clean himself. It wasn't fair; he wanted Addison and he'd never purposely hurt him—except he had, and he knew it, and worse still Addison knew it, because Jewell should have told Addison the truth about who he was—
Except he still didn't want to, because he wanted to be Jewell as long as possible and not Prince Jewell and—
And it was all so bloody confusing.
He stood up, water streaming and splashing everywhere, and climbed out of the tub. He took the drying cloth Daimon handed him, rubbing down roughly as he stalked to the bed, nearly succeeding in tripping himself.
Casting the cloth aside, he dressed in the plain, sturdy clothes Daimon had set out for him. A thought occurred to him as he finished the buttons on his dark blue jacket. "What about you, Daimon? Wouldn't it make more sense for you to come with me? What will happen to you when they find I've gotten by you again?"
"It's better if I stay here, Highness," Daimon replied, and shrugged one shoulder, then produced a small vial from his jacket. "As to how you got away—you slipped something in my tea." He restored the vial to its hidden pocket.
Jewell laughed. "How clever of me."
"Best get going, Highness. Send word to me at the club, at least, when you are somewhere safe—just do not mention where, hmm?"
"Yes, Daimon," Jewell replied, and gathered up the other items Daimon had set out. He'd go to the stables a few blocks away and get a horse there. He'd be gone long before anyone realized.
But he wouldn't leave town until he'd left a letter for Addison at the park.
Looking around the room one last time, he finally looked at Daimon. "Thank you."
Daimon only shook his head. "I am sorry it's come to this, and I do not yet know how it will all play out. Good luck, Highness. Do not do anything too reckless. Farewell."
"Farewell." Jewell turned and strode to his bedroom window, slipping out onto the balcony. Climbing over the edge, he carefully lowered himself as far as he could, dangling in the air, before finally dropping the rest of the way to the ground.
He landed perfectly, briefly pleased with himself as he climbed to his feet and brushed away dirt and leaves.
Then he fled.
*~*~*
Addison sat morosely on the park bench, staring at his boots, which were damp from the grass and dirty from the grimy streets.
His body ached in ways it never had before, and he flushed hot every time he thought about the reasons why. It had all happened only a few hours ago, but it still seemed even fresher than that, so vividly did he keep reliving it all.
He still could not believe he'd—and constantly thinking about it made him sad and happy and lonely and—and—
And he really wanted to do it all again, the whole day, from the kiss in the park to the museum to lunch to bed—
Oh, it really was quite hopeless. He'd be lucky to see Jewell tomorrow morning, and he really shouldn't be here now. But Uncle was sick now, and it was making him even more odious than usual, and his cousin was a perfectly wretched patient as well, and Addison really could not bear to be in the house one more moment.
It wasn't like him to sneak out the way he had, and part of him felt guilty about it—but most of him was happy to sit here and daydream about Jewell.
He jumped up from the bench, nearly knocking over the lantern he'd brought along, as someone else burst into the clearing—and stared at Jewell in surprise.
Jewell stared back, equally surprised. Then he set down his own lantern and surged forward, scooping Addison up and kissing him hard.
Addison sank his hands into Jewell's hair and held fast, kissing him back just as hard, only then realizing he had vastly underestimated how badly he'd missed Jewell.
Infatuation was stupid; at some point someone with real authority would order him to stay away from Jewell or else. But it was so hard to remember that or even care when Jewell was holding him, kissing him. It was harder still when he remembered what they'd been doing only hours ago that made him so comfortable with Jewell now.
He moaned at the memory, and held Jewell tighter still.
"I did not expect to see you here," Jewell said at last, guiding Addison back to the bench before going to fetch his lantern. He sat down next to Addison and smiled. In the light of their two lanterns, Addison noticed what he hadn't before—fresh scratches on Jewell's right cheek. He reached out to touch them lightly. "You're hurt. What happened?"
"My mother happened," Jewell said bitterly. "Tonight was the last straw. They want to make me a high class whore the same way they did my uncle years ago. I'm not going to do it! My uncle ran away and I'm going to do the same thing." All but shaking with anger, he recounted to Addison everything that had transpired since they'd parted, right up to where he'd snuck out, then come to the park to leave Addison a note.
Addison fought down his private dismay at the thought of Jewell going away. "I—I didn't know it was so awful for you. That's terrible, Jewell. They—they shouldn't do such things, demand such things." He bit his lip against saying anything selfish. He was lucky to have the memories he did; at least Jewell had planned on telling him goodbye. He had no right to ask for more, especially when Jewell's misery was so great.
But he couldn't resist a softly spoken, "I'll miss you."
Jewell hugged him tight, and kissed him again. But one kissed turned into two, into three, until Addison lost track of everything except the warmth and feel of Jewell.
"Daimon told me not to bother you, and that it was better to leave you, and I wrote you a letter and I know it's selfish and hopeless but I don't suppose—I mean—that is—would you run away with me?"
Addison froze, staring at him in surprise. A thousand questions filled his mind—who was Daimon?—but only one really stood out. "You—uh—you want me to go with you?"
"Yes," Jewell said fervently. "I know I shouldn't ask; it's awful of me. I was trying to do the right thing, I even wrote the letter. I have it here—" He thrust a letter clumsily into Addison's hands. "But—I didn't know you'd be here and it seems like you're meant—oh please won't your run away with me?"
"Um—" Addison could only stare in shock again, thoughts spinning wildly. Running away would be the height of stupidity. His uncle would kill him, if his parents didn't do it first. He didn't have that kind of money, and if something went wrong and he was left alone, he would have nowhere to go and no way to get home again. He'd be completely at Jewell's mercy.
But Jewell looked so damned miserable, and so hopeful, and Addison bet he had no idea where he was going and no plan about how to go about it.
It was a stupid thing to do, running away for no good reason. But he'd done a lot of things today that people would consider stupid. Something about Jewell made him want to do stupid things. "Where are you going?"
Jewell shrugged, impatient and restless—and disappointed. "I don't know. I thought I'd just wander, so it's harder for people to find me."
Addison bit his lip, thinking. "Um. You said your uncle was treated like they're treating you, yes?"
"Yes," Jewell sai
d with another impatient shrug.
"Then—" Addison drew a deep breath. "We should go see him, don't you think? He could help, and it would give us a destination. If that doesn't work out, we'll go somewhere else."
Jewell stared at him in shock—then laughed in delight and dragged him close, kissing him senseless, and it was all too easy for Addison to ignore the voices in his head calling him a thousand different kinds of stupid.
But the way Jewell had smiled when he realized Addison had said 'we' made him think he'd endure a thousand heartaches just to see those smiles.
*~*~*
Addison was ready to fall over from exhaustion. They hadn't traveled quickly to reach their destination, but they had not traveled slowly either.
Not to mention that if he thought Jewell had been a boundless supply of energy the day they'd met…it was more than a little impressive how much his exuberance increased when he was running away from home.
He leaned against Jewell, at least half asleep while Jewell knocked on the door. It was a pretty cottage—if a two story manor that obviously cost a fortune could still be called a cottage—from what he could see in the fading evening light.
Jewell kissed his temple, making Addison smile, but the door opened before he could say anything in reply.
"Mercy have me!" exclaimed a tidy looking little woman with curly, steel gray hair and gold rimmed spectacles. "What in the name of heaven are you doing here, Hig—"
"I need to speak with my uncle, immediately," Jewell said, and ushered them inside. "Is he here?"
Martha snorted. "Aye, but they're holed up in the library, so have a care. Though, it's early yet. I'll put on some tea for you."
Jewell kissed her cheek. "Thank you."
"Get on, then," Martha said, "and introduce me to your friend later." She winked at them, then vanished into the back rooms.
Moving down the hall, Jewell rapped loudly on one of the doors, then pushed it open and slipped inside.
Addison stared, sleepy and shy and painfully nervous, at the two men before the small fireplace on the far side of the room. They were both beautiful, dressed casually in clothes he could tell where costly even at a glance, ensconced in a library that cost a greater fortune still.
One was a stunning older version of Jewell, touches of gray to his wheat-gold curls, long and lean, and there was a warmth and lingering affection in his eyes as he looked away from the man who was clearly the focus of that affection.
He was leaning over a dark chair, one hand braced on the arm, the fingers of his other hand curled beneath the chin of the man sitting in the chair, titling his head up just so.
The man in the chair was just as beautiful, dark eyes sharp and shining behind gold spectacles, light brown hair warm in the firelight, just lightly peppered with gray. A book lay forgotten in his lap, and as they watched his hand slid away from where it had been fisted in the shirt of Jewell's uncle.
"Jewell," said his uncle, and rose to his full—and considerable—height. "What in the world are you doing here?"
"Mother tried to make me sleep with someone to help that stupid trade bill fail!" Jewell burst out. "She was turning me into a whore, and Daimon said you didn't want that, and Addison said to come here—"
The man smiled and rested a calming hand on Jewell's shoulder. "Take a breath, Jewell. I'm glad Daimon is still taking care of you. I take it Addison is your handsome friend here? Why don't we start with introductions, hmm? I'm certain Martha will have tea along shortly."
Behind him, the man in the chair stood, voice as sharp as his piercing eyes. "I sense there is going to be quite the tale here, and I also sense there are going to be several irate people on our doorstep very soon. What is it with you royals that you can never do anything without making a production of it?"
"Royals?" Addison repeated, jerking away from Jewell, staring at him in wide-eyed shock. Oh, god. Surely not.
But Jewell winced, and said. "Addy—"
"Y-y-you're a prince?" Addison asked, because what else could Jewell be if he was royalty? "I—what—there's—"
The man in the chair stood up and crossed the room. He grabbed Addison by the arm and guided him to the chair, pushing him down into it. Then he thrust a snifter into Addison's hands and ordered sharply, "Drink that."
Addison obeyed, eyes watering as he gulped the burning brandy, coughing and sputtering. Jewell—he couldn't—but Addison could see it, as he looked between Jewell and his uncle, beautiful young and old versions of one another.
"Jewell," the uncle said sternly. "Do you mean to tell me that you convinced him to run away with you and you did not tell him who you are?"
"What?" Jewell said defensively. "He knows who I am, I just had not gotten around to telling him what I am."
"Honesty is crucial in any form of relationship, Jewell. In a situation like this, it is even more important. You will accomplish nothing by hiding and deceiving—"
He was cut off by an inelegant snort from the man still hovering over Addison. Then the man moved closer to Jewell's Uncle, hands on his hips, face tilted up in challenge. "I'm sorry, Benedict, did you really just say that with a straight face? Accomplish nothing by hiding and deceiving? You? Really? I am not certain, given the unique history of our relationship, that you are really fit to give such a lecture."
Benedict scowled. "We are hardly ordinary, Rae. You must admit that we were a rarity—"
"Oh, no," Rae said, cutting him off. "You don't get to lecture on deceit and honesty."
"No?" Benedict repeated softly, mouth curving in a smile that made Addison think that, for the moment at least, they'd forgotten there was anyone else in the room. "I suppose you are the more experienced at deceiving, Hunter."
"I think we are about as fit to lecture on the matter of honesty as your relatives are fit to lecture on virtue."
Benedict grimaced at that. "Now we were never as bad as all that."
Rae said nothing, only smirked briefly. "Let me handle the reprimand, Bene. You will only go soft."
"As you like, beloved," Benedict said easily, and sniggered as Jewell winced, sliding away to stand closer to Addison. "Have another sip or two," he said, motioning to the brandy Addison still held, patting his shoulder comfortingly.
Rae stepped forward, closer to Jewell, and began to speak in a voice that made Addison want to stand up and pay attention for fear of reprisal if he did not. "What in the world were you thinking!" He cuffed Jewell lightly. "To drag someone halfway across the continent and not tell him what he is truly being dragged into! You were right to run if your parents are doing to you what they all used to do to Benedict. Coming here is the smartest thing you could have done, though I believe I heard it was your companion who thought of it. Hopeless! But not to tell him the full weight of the decision you have made, to drag him into what will become a lifelong mess without allowing him to make his own decision fairly! Your behavior is borderline cruel, and what is worse, you probably knew that! What were you thinking?"
"I was thinking he'd never see me again if he knew I was royalty, and I didn't want to say goodbye until I absolutely had to," Jewell said.
He looked so miserable, sounded so despondent, that Addison was momentarily jarred from his panic. Not even thinking about it, he stood up and moved across the room to embrace Jewell.
Jewell stiffened, clearly surprised, but then held him tightly. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, words muffled against Addison's throat.
Addison laughed shakily, panic returning. "Are you really a prince?"
"Yes," Jewell said with a tired sigh.
"I don't—I can't—I shouldn't be with a prince," Addison said, laughing again because he didn't know what he would do if he didn't laugh. "I can't believe I told you about my parents wanting me to catch an earl, and no wonder you could just walk into a museum, and I should have realized but didn't. How stupid am I? It must have been amusing for everyone—"
"Stop it!" Jewell said, all but shouting the words, holding him s
o tightly that for a moment Addison couldn't breathe. "You aren't stupid. You're bloody perfect, Addy. Stop it, please. I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but it is my fault, so be mad at me and call me stupid. I deserve that, not you."
Addison just buried his head against Jewell's chest, because in spite of everything, there was still no place he'd rather be than right there with Jewell holding him.
Oh, god. A prince. He was infatuated and possibly on his way to worse with a prince. And he'd thought it beyond absurd his parents thought he could net an earl!
A knock at the door made him jump, and he looked up as Martha rolled in a laden teacart—reminding him suddenly they weren't alone. He flushed dark, humiliated that Benedict—Prince Benedict—and Rae had watched the entire exchange. They must think him a perfect fool.
Martha wheeled the cart to a table in the corner, and then glanced at Benedict. Then she simply gave a quick curtsy and departed again, closing the door quietly behind her.
"Let's sit down," Rae said into the silence. "There is obviously much to be discussed." He took command of the teacart, spreading its contents across the table. Then he sat down, and poured tea for Jewell and Addison, before tending to himself and Benedict.
Addison was oddly captivated by the way Rae not only poured Benedict's tea, but prepared it. Then he filled two plates with food, obviously knowing exactly what Benedict liked.
It seemed… oddly intimate to him, and a trifle eccentric. Back home, his parents' housekeeper knew such details about his parents, but he did not think his parents knew them about each other. At least, he could never recall his mother knowing how his father liked his scones, and his father had no idea how she took her tea. His aunt and uncle spent most of their time ignoring each other; they definitely never fixed tea for each other. They would be the first to say that's what the servants were for.
He shook his head at himself and sipped at his own tea, feeling flushed and unsteady from the brandy and the depressing knowledge that Jewell was a prince. But, really, it was his own stupid fault for getting carried away with his daydreams. They'd only known each other a few days, and all but one of those had been spent running away from home. Had he really thought dreams of a future together would come to pass?