The Merchant's Love

by Antonia Aquilante

  With their goblets refilled, they strolled the room for a while, Faelen once again steering them toward or away from certain people. He was about to ask Faelen to dance again as Faelen went rigid at his side.

  “Fae?”

  Faelen shook his head, and Maxen realized he was listening to a man near them.

  “—how many commoners are at court these days. And the way they act as if they belong here. Just disgraceful.” His tone practically dripped with a disdain that froze Maxen.

  “I’m sure Prince Philip would be quite interested in your opinion of the matter.” Faelen’s voice lashed out coldly. “Do you want to share it with him, or shall I?”

  “Lord Faelen!” The man’s eyes widened, and his companions all took a step back. “I was only jesting, of course.”

  “I suggest you don’t.” After a long stare, Faelen took Maxen’s arm and swept away. Before Maxen could say anything, Faelen murmured, “He was staring at Adora when he said it.”

  Anger flashed through Maxen.

  Faelen squeezed his arm. “Leave it. He won’t say anything now, and I’ll have a word with Philip tomorrow.”

  No one could leave until the princes did without breaching court etiquette, but Maxen seemed to be the only one ready to. One rude person hadn’t soured his night. He just wanted to be alone with Faelen. Every time he took Faelen in his arms for a dance, every moment he stood at Faelen’s side listening to him, watching the light shimmer on his reddish hair, Maxen’s skin prickled with warmth, with a connection he needed more than anything. Perhaps it would be wrong to go to bed with Faelen before they resolved everything, but he wasn’t certain he cared, if Faelen wanted to as well. From the way he smiled, slow and sweet but not innocent, it seemed as if he might.

  Maxen was never so happy as when the princes finally made their exit, which was probably unkind. They’d been dancing and enjoying themselves.

  “We can leave whenever you like,” Faelen said, voice low, face tilted up to Maxen’s. “It doesn’t matter how long we stay now.”

  “I’d hate to pull you away if you’re enjoying yourself.”

  “I don’t mind leaving.” Faelen smiled again with just a hint of hesitance. “Will you come back to my rooms with me? And stay?”

  He was happy that Faelen wanted to spend the night with him, but he wasn’t sure he was ready to do it in the palace, especially since Faelen shared a suite with Alexander. “Can we go to my house instead? Stay there?”

  Faelen looked at him for a moment, as if weighing his words, trying to determine their meaning and motivation. Finally he nodded. “All right. Just let me change and put a few things in a bag.”

  Philip looked up as Amory closed the bedchamber door behind him. He’d changed into a dressing gown as soon as they returned from the ball and gone to check on Julien, leaving Philip with a brief kiss and a promise to be only a moment. He hadn’t been gone much more than that.

  “He’s asleep?”

  “Yes,” Amory said with the tender smile that belonged only to their son. “Soundly.”

  “Good.” Once Julien was asleep, he wouldn’t wake during the night—it was the getting him to sleep that had always been the problem.

  Amory’s lips curved. “You sound quite pleased.”

  “I am. I have plans for you.”

  “Oh, do you now?” Amory’s smile went wicked, and he climbed onto the bed, moving to straddle Philip’s lap over the blankets. The firelight teased fiery reds from his auburn hair. “And what might those plans be?”

  Philip hummed out a breath when Amory bent his head to kiss and nibble at his jaw. He brought his hands up to Amory’s waist, anchoring him there. When Amory rested his hands on Philip’s shoulders, sweeping fingers delicately over them and down Philip’s chest, he shivered. “How did you enjoy your ball?”

  Amory jerked back and gave him a narrow-eyed look. “You want to talk about it now?”

  “I thought we might. Everyone seemed to enjoy themselves. They’re still probably enjoying themselves.” Philip gathered Amory closer despite his glare. It was far too amusing to tease him sometimes. “Maxen came. Do you think it’s serious between him and Faelen?”

  “Perhaps. I think Maxen’s presence means they’re going to make up after their disagreement.”

  “I don’t know Maxen very well.”

  “He’s a good man.” Amory’s glare softened into something affectionate. “Are you concerned about your cousin again?”

  “Faelen is incredibly clever and stronger than he looks, but I am, I suppose. I could say I’m guarding the royal family and our secrets, but mostly I just want to make sure everyone is happy.”

  Amory leaned forward and kissed him softly. “I know. I love that about you.”

  “Only that?”

  “At the moment. Because you’re talking instead of kissing me on the anniversary of our wedding.”

  Philip smiled. “I kissed you this morning and this afternoon and before we left for the ball.”

  “I didn’t realize there was a limit on the number of times you could kiss me in a day.”

  “There absolutely is not.” He pulled Amory close and into a deep kiss. They’d been married three years, and Philip still couldn’t get enough of kissing Amory. He hoped he never would.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The rain had started at some point during the ball, and Faelen was glad to take one of the carriages to Maxen’s house. He’d packed a small bag for the morning and changed into less formal clothes. While he collected his things, Maxen had wandered his bedchamber. Faelen itched to ask him what he was thinking, but he let the silence stand. It wasn’t particularly uncomfortable, though not as easy as it usually was between them.

  It was early enough that many were still enjoying the princes’ hospitality, causing little delay in leaving the palace grounds, but late enough that the city streets were mostly empty. Faelen was glad of it. The rain was icy, and he huddled in his cloak, close against Maxen’s side during the trip. When they arrived, he pulled his hood up and dashed to the door, gratefully spilling into the warmth of the house. Even the relative warmth of the entry was better than the chill outdoors.

  A sleepy Pia appeared and took their cloaks and Faelen’s bag. Faelen tried not to blush as Maxen instructed her to put it in his bedchamber and then retire for the night. It wasn’t the first time he’d spent the night—just the first since their disagreement.

  “A drink?”

  “Yes, all right.” Faelen followed Maxen into the parlor. He sat on the couch while Maxen poured for them both. Maxen brought the glasses back with him, handing one to Faelen as he settled at his side. Heartened by how close Maxen was, Faelen leaned into him and let out a long sigh when Maxen’s arm came around him.

  “Is it all right if we don’t talk tonight? If we pretend our argument didn’t happen for a little while?” Maxen asked after several moments. His fingers played in Faelen’s hair, loose after he’d taken it down when he’d changed, separating curls and letting them wind around his fingers.

  “I suppose so.” He hated to leave everything unresolved, but he’d prefer they didn’t begin arguing again either. He was warm and comfortable, and pleasure was beginning to fizz under his skin at the touch of Maxen’s hand. So innocent, that touch, and it still set Faelen alight.

  He hummed his approval and hoped Maxen didn’t stop. He’d be more than content to stay right where he was all night. The movement of Maxen’s fingers through his hair was hypnotic, drugging, a gentle petting that set him floating on calm and drowsy pleasure. He shifted closer, draping himself half over Maxen and relaxing into him, closing his eyes and letting his thoughts drift away, letting everything drift away except the sensations caused by Maxen’s touch, the flickering light of the fire in his half-closed eyes, the warmth of Maxen’s body against his.

  After a while, Maxen moved. Faelen made a noise of protest, which should have been words, but his mind wasn’t quite awake enough to form them. Maxen ch
uckled. “Let’s go up to bed.”

  Faelen grumbled but allowed Maxen to pull him to his feet. Once he was up and walking at Maxen’s side, he began to shake off his lethargy enough to make his way up to Maxen’s bedchamber. The house was quiet around them, the creak of the stairs under their feet loud to Faelen’s ears. His thoughts were loud too, questions and doubts circling. He wanted to be with Maxen, to sleep next to Maxen. Was that a good idea, though?

  They went about preparing for bed in silence. Faelen found his bag in the dressing room and changed into loose sleep pants and a shirt. Maxen was already in bed when Faelen came back into the bedchamber. He flicked a glance over Faelen’s attire and then held up the blankets in a wordless invitation. Faelen climbed into the bed and snuggled beneath the covers. The house was fairly snug, but there was a bit of a draft that his bedchamber at the palace didn’t have.

  Maxen settled as well, smoothing the blankets over them both and turning to face Faelen. “May I hold you?”

  “I’d like that.” Faelen went willingly when Maxen gathered him close, sighing and closing his eyes as he laid his head in the curve of Maxen’s neck.

  But sleep eluded Faelen. He’d been so close to drifting off before, but now his thoughts raced around again. Maxen wasn’t asleep either. His body was too tense, and his breathing wasn’t the rhythm it took on in sleep. Somehow, Faelen already knew what that sounded like.

  “Can’t sleep?” Faelen whispered finally.

  Maxen jerked a little. “No. You either?”

  “No.”

  “We woke ourselves up. Maybe we should have stayed downstairs.”

  “Hmm.”

  They were quiet for a while longer, and then Maxen tightened his arms around Faelen. “I’m trying not to be angry that you went to Tristan. It’s difficult because you went behind my back and kept it from me. That hurts me.”

  What was it about darkness that inspired whispered confidences and confessions? “I’m sorry that I hurt you.”

  “I know you are, but you still did it.”

  “I did.”

  “And I don’t think you regret it.”

  Faelen bit his lip. “I do because I hate what it’s done to us. I hate that I hurt you.”

  “But you don’t regret going to Tristan.”

  Faelen clamped down on the urge to jump up and away, forcing himself to stay where he was. “Are you trying to start us arguing again?”

  Maxen sighed. “No. I understand your reasons for what you did, or I’m trying to. I just wish you’d talked to me instead sneaking around with Tristan.”

  “You make it sound as if I was doing something far different. I talked to him about you, about how worried I was about you and all you were dealing with on your own,” Faelen said, voice stiff and cool in a way he didn’t like but couldn’t stop. “If I’d come to you instead of going to Tristan—if I’d tried to talk to you again—would you have listened? You didn’t want to talk about it at all before, but I could see how it affected you, and I hated it.”

  Maxen didn’t speak for a moment. “I guess we’ll never know.”

  Faelen thought his hesitance spoke for itself. “Maybe we can promise that we’ll talk to each other and really listen when something comes up in the future.” He had no doubt it would with Maxen’s family and what seemed to be his need to take care of everyone.

  “I can promise that. Can you?”

  “I can.” He gladly would if it would keep them from repeating the last couple of days. Had it been so little time? It felt like forever.

  “All right, then. It’s a promise.”

  “Yes.” Would that be the end of it? Had Maxen forgiven him?

  “Good,” Maxen said. “Let’s try to sleep now. I’d rather not think about how soon morning is.”

  Faelen smiled just imagining Maxen dragging himself from bed and sitting at his breakfast table not awake yet. When had that become adorable instead of strange? And would it stay that way if they woke up together more mornings, many mornings—every morning? “Do you have to get up to go to your office?”

  “No, but I have to see Mother and everyone for lunch. And I promised to go for a drink with some friends later in the afternoon to toast the holiday.” Maxen settled himself deeper into the pillows, taking Faelen with him. “Which all sounds exhausting right now.”

  “That’s only because you’re awake in the middle of the night after dancing the rest of it away at a royal ball.” Faelen didn’t try to suppress the amusement rippling through his voice. It was affectionate anyway. “I’m sure you’re looking forward to it.”

  “I suppose.”

  He did manage to hold back his chuckle—Maxen usually wasn’t so dramatic. “You will after some sleep. Do you have anything to do before you go to see your family?”

  “I should look at some work.”

  “It’s still the holiday. Let work go for another day. The extra sleep will do you good.”

  “Taking care of me?”

  Faelen could hear the smile in Maxen’s voice quite clearly even without opening his eyes, which he had no desire to do. Fatigue was creeping through him again. “Why not?”

  Maxen hummed. “I’d like to see you tomorrow. Can we meet for dinner?”

  “Don’t you want to celebrate with your friends?”

  “Yes, but I also want to celebrate with you. Outside of a royal ball.”

  Faelen let out a long breath as Maxen cuddled him closer. Maybe it would be all right. “I’d like that too.”

  Maxen had slept well after he and Faelen talked, but he still hadn’t wanted to wake up that morning. He’d only roused when Faelen coaxed him out of bed so he wouldn’t be late for lunch. If he’d been even marginally awake at the time, he would have tried to coax Faelen back into bed instead. He’d had every intention last night of doing something other than sleeping when he’d invited Faelen home with him, but fatigue had gotten the better of him. Fatigue, and perhaps the need for that talk first. Nothing had felt right until they talked. He might need to say more, but, for now, they were all right.

  Perhaps he’d see if Faelen wanted to eat at the house later, so they could be alone. Maxen had been tempted to ask Faelen to wait for him, but it wouldn’t be right to make him sit alone all day while Maxen went out with his family and friends. He almost asked Faelen to come with him.

  But that would’ve meant putting Mother and Faelen together for the first time, and he wasn’t ready for that. He—and Tristan, yes—needed to find a way to get through to her or around her before he let her find out about him and Faelen.

  As it was, they parted ways with a kiss, Faelen back to the palace and Maxen to Mother’s house. He carried holiday gifts for her and his siblings and braced himself for her displeasure that he hadn’t brought her and Selene to last night’s ball. He fully expected it to make their gathering unpleasant.

  He didn’t expect to find Tristan and Etan getting out of one of the royal carriages when he arrived—on time, but just.

  “What are you two doing here?” Maxen asked as he handed his horse off to a groom. “I didn’t expect you.”

  Tristan fussed with Bria’s blanket for a moment as she wriggled in Etan’s arms, wrapping her tighter against the cold.

  “I wasn’t going to leave you alone to handle Mother,” Tristan said with a pointed look. “Besides, it’s the holiday. I want to see the boys.”

  Maxen was also surprised they’d brought Bria, but he supposed it came down to the same reasoning, even if Tristan was unlikely to leave her alone with Mother or Selene, possibly ever again. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  Tristan smiled at him and nodded. “Are you and Faelen all right? I saw you dancing last night, and there’s a whisper that you left together.”

  Maxen’s stomach sank. How would Faelen react to rumors about them? Would he care? Did Maxen? “We did. I think we’ll be all right.”

  “Good.” Tristan put his arm around Maxen and gave him a squeeze, the gesture—something he
’d done since they were children—warming Maxen’s heart. “I’m happy to hear it.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You could’ve brought him with you.”

  “I could have, but I don’t think I’m quite ready for him to be in the same room as Mother.”

  “Or for her to know at all?” Tristan asked shrewdly.

  “Perhaps.” Definitely. Maxen still dreaded what she would do when she found out. “We should go in before Mother sends someone out.”

  “She would too.” Tristan shook his head.

  “Yes, and get Bria out of the cold,” Etan said. “And me too. I think it’s going to rain again anyway.”

  “Well, we wouldn’t want you rained on, would we?” Tristan’s eyes danced with laughter, but he leaned in and planted an affectionate kiss on Etan’s cheek. “All right. Let’s go in.”

  The maid opened the door for them. They stopped just inside to remove their coats, hats, and gloves, juggling parcels and Bria between them as they did. Etan ended up with Bria again at the end of it, and he kept her as they went into the formal parlor. The rest of the family was there, Mother and Selene sitting near the fire with their embroidery, and Renaud, Thierry, and Didier playing a card game on the table near the window.

  As they greeted each other, Maxen realized that Etan carrying Bria was not by chance. Mother and Selene both stared at the baby, but they didn’t say anything to Etan. Had Tristan been holding her, they’d have asked for her, or just plucked her from his arms. Maxen had seen it happen in the first few months after she was born. He still hated the disappointment in Mother’s eyes, but Tristan and Etan got to make those decisions.

  “Boys, leave those packages alone. We’ll do gifts after lunch,” Mother said as Thierry and Didier went to inspect the parcels Tristan set down on the table. Maxen hastened to do the same with his, mussing his youngest brother’s hair as he did. Didier dodged away but grinned at him.