Hybel 4th, 1513 – Carico Estate, River Sulis, Lothianshire Albion

The words on the page in front of him were wavering for the third time, Josh closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The problem he’d found with choosing poetry as the subject he was being “tutored” in was that for so many years poetry had been his refuge from the craziness that came with being a Carico. But now every time he sat down to read one of those volumes, all he could hear was Darin’s deep voice, practically see him sitting in that chair by his desk, that half a smile on his lips. And that was just another bit of craziness that truthfully Josh didn’t need.

He sighed and flipped the page. He hadn’t expected to find someone he felt about the way he felt about Darin. Someone whose soul was a cracked and crazed and battered as his own was, but unlike Josh, someone who drew strength from adversity, someone who didn’t let that break him. He doubly would never have expected that it would be a “him”, certainly there were men that had “agreements”, he wasn’t totally innocent to the idea, but even had he entertained the idea, which he hadn’t really, before Darin, he’d never been that strongly attracted to anyone, male or female. Still an orphaned peasant boy was hardly what he ever would have pictured. Somehow though, none of that mattered when he looked at Darin. Still, it all hardly seemed to matter, Darin definitely was interested in the fairer sex, all you had to do was watch him with an attractive serving maid. And he had this feeling that was so deep it felt like knowledge that what was in store for him was that old Gaulish saw. Die young and leave a beautiful corpse.

And that brought his thoughts back around to why he was sitting here trying to lose himself in a volume of poetry anyway. In just a couple of short hours, they’d be piling into the carriage and heading to the cathedral to listen to a bunch of people lie about Milford Rance and what a great man he was.

It was usually lies, but when you considered he’d be in the pew next to–and behind–the reason that the man was in a box in the first place, the lies seemed that much more distasteful.

A knock came a moment later on the door. Josh didn’t jump exactly, but he did stand up and give his waistcoat a firm tug before saying “Come in.”

The door didn’t reveal who he thought it would. Usually if his mother wanted to see him, she had one of the maids summon him to wherever she was. But it was definitely his mother standing in the doorway, her black silk suit showing not the slightest sign of wilting, despite the heat of the day.

“I’m sorry to intrude.” His mother said, pausing just a few steps inside the door. “But I am at my wits end, Josh.” Josh couldn’t help the blink, if he did manage to restrain gaping at her. His mother come to beg help off of him. “Your sister listens to you far better than she ever listens to me. Please, try and talk some sense into her.”

“I know she’s stubborn, she’s related to your father’s family and mine. But usually she’ll see sense.” It was a shock to see Marisol flustered. Nothing ever seemed to phase her, she had a completely enviable ability to roll with whatever life threw at her. But she was definitely frazzled. “I do not even want to know what will come out of this. Please, Josh. I’ve had the maids lay out a couple of my suits, we have time to have them hemmed up before we have to leave.

“All right, Mother.” Josh said, not quite tracking what she was talking about. But apparently Bet had gotten an idea in her head and was being stubborn about it. Which if he thought about it, he should have expected. You’d have to be a saint to forgive a man who had done to Bet what Rance had. And now she had to go sit in the cathedral and listen to the same lies Josh had been lamenting listening to earlier. Of course she would rebel–and of the four of them, only Marisol didn’t know why she would be rebelling.

“Thank you, Josh. I’ll be downstairs in the parlor.” Marisol turned and walked back out into the hall and down the stairs. Josh squared his shoulders, feeling like a man suiting up for a battle, because if Bet had dug her feet in, it’d probably be one. And he he walked out the door, crossing the short piece of hall that separated his bedroom from hers and tapped on the ornate door.

“Who is it?” His sister’s familiar voice came a moment later.

“It’s Josh, can I come in?”

“Of course.” Of course. He pushed the door open and walked into his sister’s domain. Bet was at the mirror, checking her cosmetics, he guessed. “Mother sent you in to deal with me, huh?”

“Yeah. She didn’t, uh, actually get to the part where she explained what I’m supposed to be talking with you about, though.”

“My dress. She doesn’t think it’s appropriate, either for my age or the event.” Bet smoothed the waves of her hair one last time before stepping away from the mirror and around the screen. Josh bit his lip, pretty much to keep from pounding his fist against his forehead and groaning. He could definitely see why his mother had a problem with it. No twelve year old should be showing that much decolletage, nor really anyone attending a funeral.

“And you do?” Josh asked. If he couldn’t be honest with Elizabet than who could he be honest with? That was the thing that his mother didn’t understand about dealing with Elizabet when she got into one of her stubborn phases. You had to lay your cards out on the table, be honest. Marisol never laid her cards on the table. She wasn’t dishonest but she kept so many things close to the vest that you never felt she was truly being honest.

“If all I am to Father is a means to an end, a piece of meat to be auctioned off to the person who can give him what he wants, then why shouldn’t I acknowledge that?” Elizabet said, planting her hands on her hips in a way that said that he was not off to a great start.

“Because that’s not what you are, Bet. Aren’t you the one who always says that Father shouldn’t win with us? He doesn’t get to break you, he can’t.” Josh pulled his sister into a long hug, hating the way her body quivered as he did it.

“You think he should get to break you. Aren’t you the one who is always trying to be what that son of a bitch thinks you should be? To the point of completely denying your own heart?” Elizabet pointed out ruthlessly.

“And since when do you want to be me, Bet?” Josh shot back.

“Since I realized it doesn’t matter!” Elizabet said. “I’m still just a piece on his game board and nothing I do will change that. What’s the point in fighting and arguing and trying to be something else?”

“Okay.” Josh said. He saw her blink before he turned for the door.

“Okay?” Elizabet echoed. “What are you doing, Josh? Where are you going?”

“To my room, to get The Sword.” The Sword had been Joshua the First’s. The one that he had used to lead the army against the Remans in the battle that won the town. Elizabet caught his arm.

“And what are you going to do with it?” He felt a little tingle of something–magic, maybe?–coursing between her palm and his bicep.

“I’m going to kill our father with it.” Elizabet gasped and that tingle became a current that locked him in place.

“Josh! Don’t even joke about that!” Elizabet told him in a shocked voice.

“I’m not joking. If I can’t protect you from him while he’s alive, then I’ll just bloody make him not alive.” Josh said through clenched teeth. “The king won’t even have to come to River Sulis twice for a funeral. He can just stay an extra day while we get a box.”

“Josh, don’t throw your life away.”

“What life, Bet? I’m so fucked up that I can’t even fall in love right. You’d make a much better baroness than I’ll make a baron, Mother can go on with her life, Darin will be okay, you’ll take care of him, I know. Everyone and everything I care about will be safe as long as he’s not here.” Josh enumerated for her. It was about all he could do, his legs were trembling from whatever she’d done to him, and he wasn’t sure that they wouldn’t fail him a moment later.

“Josh.” Elizabet’s voice broke. “You can’t do that.”

“Orkneys are good at killing people who get in their way. It–and being batshit crazy–is about all we are good at.”

“I. Won’t. Let. You.” Elizabet told him.

“If my choices are you or him, I choose you. If my choices are you or me, I still choose you.” Josh told his sister.

“Josh.” Elizabet whispered. “You won’t, promise me, you won’t. We can’t lose each other.”

“If the dragon’s gone, you won’t need me.”

“But I will. I need you to be my big grouchy brother to scare all the pimply faced suitors Mother scrounges up. I don’t want to be Baroness. I want to be able to stand behind you and tell you I told you so while you do it.” Elizabet laughed, except it didn’t touch her eyes at all. “I won’t stop needing you after he’s gone and I am not going to let you take yourself away from me.”

A tap came at the door. “Lady Elizabet, Lord Joshua. Your lord father says it is time for you to leave.”

“See, we’ll be late for the funeral if you kill him. You can’t kill him.” Elizabet stuck her tongue out at Josh. “We’ll be right down, Fern. Now,” Elizabet poked him. “You stop being crazy. Right now, Joshua Piers.”

“You first, Elizabet Sophie. I always have to go first, it’s your turn.”

Seryl 14th, 1513 – Carico Estate, River Sulis, Lothianshire, Albion

The new maid, Mrs. Hearst’s niece, ducked her head and looked to the side, she was taller than Elizabet–who wasn’t?–but between the ducked head and the hunched shoulders and slouched posture she didn’t seem it. “No, m’lady. I haven’t seen Lord Joshua.” Her tone was deferential and–almost scared. Like I’d blame her for the fact that I seem to have misplaced my brother. Maybe Fern thought that Elizabet would. She didn’t think her father was that unreasonable and he was by far the most unreasonable person in the entire household from pot boy straight on up.

“That’s just like brothers. They’re always around when you don’t want them and not around when you do.” She shook her head. Fern raised her head slightly, a small smile poking at the corner of her lips. “You have brothers, right? Isn’t that just like them?”

“Aye, m’lady.” Fern said.

“How many?” Elizabet asked, curiously. Fern blinked at her. “How many brothers do you have?”

“Oh, I have three, m’lady.” Fern said. When Elizabet nodded encouragingly, she continued. “All younger.”

“Miss them?” Elizabet pressed. Fern nodded again.

“Oscar an’ Ham a lot. Hamilton, it’s a family name, m’lady.” She added in a hurry. “Parnell not so much.”

“Ah, one of those brothers that the best part of knowing him is missing him when he’s gone, eh?” Fern giggled behind her hand. “I have some extended family like that.” Fern looked down the long hall toward the green door the separated “upstairs” from “downstairs” and Elizabet realized that she was probably keeping the other girl from something. Niece or no niece, the housekeeper would come down hard on the girl for any perceived slacking.

“I should probably go find my brother.” She told Fern.

“‘m Sorry I couldn’t be more help, m’lady.” Fern told her, though she ducked her head and shoulders a little, at least she wasn’t looking like a whipped dog as she had when Elizabet had first stopped her.

“Salright.” Elizabet told her with a smile. “It’s not your fault that my brother is good at disappearing.” That would be my father’s fault. She thought as the girl curtsied and hurried off down the hall. Though if Fern hadn’t seen him, there was one place he might be. Mrs. Hearst wouldn’t have sent anyone into that room to light the lamps, normally there wouldn’t be anyone in it. She quickly turned the corner to the smaller, but no less opulent door set there.

A brazier was lit here, wouldn’t do for the family to stub their toes getting to the lamp, after all. But that was about all the stock that Elizabet took of the room. She wanted to get in and out of it as quickly as possible. It was like all the time that Cox spent in the room had somehow permeated it with something it couldn’t be too healthy to expose yourself to.

Up the spiral marble stair, her soft slippers seeming to call to the empty walls by the way they echoed as she climbed. The furniture in the antechamber was opulent, if a touch dated, she’d been told it was a holdover from when her grandfather had been baron of River Sulis. It was the same furniture that resided in Madame Cox’s parlor. Except of course it seemed welcome and right in place in Madame Cox’s parlor, here it seemed rather like one of the aged courtiers who played chess in the gardens at Camelot, old, tired, still good for stiff formality, but not so good for much else.

And of course there was a painting of some relative stuck on the wall to watch disapprovingly. Like there was practically anywhere in the house. Every room had to have some solemn portrait staring at every move you made, unblinking in their disapproval.

Whomever had come up with the idea that decorating with portraits was a wonderful plan was obviously a sadist.

She didn’t linger, lest the portrait of great aunt somebody-or-other get the idea that she was being idle. Sure, it was silly and superstitious, but a little silliness never hurt anyone. Elizabet pushed open the door to her father’s office to be greeted by warm light and the glint of her brother’s hair as he stared at a set of papers in front of him. Fingers curled about his chin, a slight slouch of shoulders and a haunted expression that she’d lay a year’s pocket money had nothing to do with those papers.

He looked up and smiled at her, an honest smile, true and a little sweet, though it flickered a little at the edges.

“What are you doing in here.” Elizabet asked. She hated this room most of all. It was like most rooms decorated by someone of Orkney descent, dark wood, fabric that looked like it had been dyed using blood, carvings and all the trappings of opulence abounding. But that wasn’t why she hated it. It was her father’s room. More than his bedchamber, which she wasn’t even sure what looked like, she never went in there, this was where her father held court.

Where edicts and demands were handed down. If it would have changed anything, Elizabet would have burned the entire room. But it wouldn’t, nothing would change until Jayson was gone from all their lives.

Normally Josh felt the same way about this room and avoided it with the same passion Elizabet did. It was strange to see Josh at the desk that her father normally sat at. Though there was no doubt that Josh was their father’s son, the wide upswept eyes and line of the jaw were identical, there was no mistaking Josh for Jayson.

And it was the one prayer that Elizabet voiced often, that her brother would continue to be exactly as he was and never develop the aura of “this man is crazy” that their father exuded with every breath.

“Father said that I should tend to dispatches and such in here.” Josh shrugged, his broad shoulders rising and falling in almost furtive movement.

“What father doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” Elizabet pointed out.

“Not worried about it hurting him, Bet.” Josh said, pinning her in place with slate eyes. “I will be baron some day, I’ll have to get used to this office sometime.”

“No, you won’t.” Elizabet told him.

“This room has served as the office for the baron since the estate was built, it was specifically designed to be the office of the Baron.”

“Oh, sure, physically, these four walls will be here when you’re baron. But this office won’t. I know you, Josh, and would be heartfully disappointed in you if you didn’t gut everything out of this office when you inherit it.”

“Except the jar on the console.” He jerked his head behind him. “I couldn’t get rid of Great Uncle Victor.” Elizabet looked past Josh then back at her brother’s face.

“I don’t really think that’s Great Uncle Victor.” She said. Though she wasn’t convinced. She couldn’t put it past her father to use the ashes of some dead relative as a bookend.

Josh also looked over his shoulder at the jar. “Well, there is the ashes of someone in that jar. And what if it is Great-Uncle Victor? You can’t just give away a relative. No matter how creepy it is…” Josh shuddered.

“We’ll put the jar down in the crypt and if it is him, he and Grandfather can battle it out in the afterlife, and if it’s just fireplace ashes that Jayson uses to scare people, he can explain why there’s a dead tree interred in the family crypt.” Elizabet told him. Josh almost smiled.

“So, that’s why I’m here. Why are you here?” Josh asked.

“Looking for you. What’s got you worried?” Elizabet asked as Josh’s eyes flickered down to the papers in front of him. There was a chance it was a stall tactic, but there was also a chance that there really was something there too.

“You ever heard of a Madame Bones?” Josh asked.

“No.” Elizabet peered over the top of the page. “Who is that–other than a person descended from someone with a really poor taste in surnames–or someone crazy?”

“I don’t know either. Though what I do know about her, I’d lean more toward the latter. I think it might be an assumed name. She’s apparently a gypsy witch. I’ve got a report on her from Guardsman Rose. She’s ostensibly a bookseller, though there’s more than a few rumors that’s not all she sells. She’s got a shop down in Dead Man’s Alley.”

“Cheery place, that.” It was Elizabet’s turn to shudder. She’d been there only once and had had nightmares for months. She still sometimes had nightmares about it. There was something wrong there. You could feel it in the very ground. Josh nodded. “Well–I’ve never heard of her, but I know someone you might ask.”

“Oh?” Josh asked, finger sliding over the wood of the table.

“Darin.” Something like pain briefly surfaced in Josh’s eyes. “He’s down not far from there, and you know him, people talk and he listens.”

“Aye.” Josh stared at his hands. Yep. That’s just what I thought, Elizabet thought to herself. “He might know.”

“Although he hasn’t been around so much recently. Still comes for tutoring, but not so much beyond that.” Elizabet pressed. The problem with trying to talk about anything involving her brother and how he might feel was that you had to come at it more than a bit circumspectly. You had to trap him into admitting he felt it before you could even talk about it.

“Aye, I know.” Josh was meeting her eyes, but the way they twitched away told her more than words ever could’ve.

“What in Wright’s name made you convince yourself you needed a poetry tutor in the first place?” Elizabet asked him after a moment. “Josh, you love books and poetry almost as much as Marianne does.”

“It was a reason to get Darin to come around more, alright? I–like him… I mean, I realized that he was someone who would be a good friend.”

“I know.” Elizabet said and watched her brother sigh. “But I think it’s more than that.”

“It can’t be more than that, Bet! I can’t–I can’t.”

“C’mon, Josh, stop doing the old Lord of the Manor bit, so if you like him in a you wanna–”

“Bet!” Josh was blushed so hard his face looked slightly purpled. “I can’t like him like that, and it has nothing to do with Remi’s it’s a mortal sin to want to–to make love to another man sort of way. Darin doesn’t have parents that Jayson won’t want to piss off. He’s not safe. He can’t protect himself from–from our father.”

“And with anyone else, I might agree. But I honestly think that Darin would spit in the eye of the Grim for someone he cares about. And despite all his protests I think he cares about you.” Elizabet told him. “And if the Grim doesn’t scare him, I highly doubt our father would even make him blink.”

“He doesn’t like me like that.”

“And you know this because you’ve talked about it?” Elizabet asked blandly. And if they have talked about it, I’ll eat my riding boots–after I’ve walked through the corrals.

“No–but I am pretty sure that he likes girls, Bet. And in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not one.”

“I dunno, you’re a little muscular, but plenty pretty enough.” Elizabet batted her lashes at her brother. Unfortunately instead of making him laugh, he surged up out of the chair and walked over to the fireplace staring for a long moment into the mirror above it.

“Would you want to tell Vivi or Marianne that you liked them?” He muttered at the mantle.

“If I liked them, it’d be better to tell them than live forever knowing I didn’t have the courage to do it.”

“Yeah, well, Darin’s not the only one who would spit in the eye of the Grim. I’m not like you, Bet. I can’t be fearless. I don’t know how.” Josh said, wrenching Elizabet’s heart in her chest. She wished he could. Her father shouldn’t be able to keep Josh on the ground. He didn’t deserve that victory.

“Josh, if you want to suffer in noble silence, I’ll think you’re an idiot, but I will accept that. If I have to. But you cannot do what you normally do when you don’t know what to do.” Elizabet paused for a moment wondering if that made sense and shrugged before continuing.

“Have you looked at Darin, I mean really looked? He is looking so much better than when we first met at the Guardstation. His skin doesn’t look two sizes too small, you can no longer shave with his cheekbones, he looks like he slept sometime this year, you know why that is?”

“I know.” Josh murmured. “And I thought of that.”

“So what are you going to do?” Elizabet asked. Josh shrugged.

“…Suffer in noble silence–but keep being a friend.” Josh said after a long moment.

“That’s my big brother.” Elizabet said, giving him a quick hug. Jayson can’t have your heart, Josh, he can’t break your spirit. It’s what makes you who you are. It’s what’ll make River Sulis a better place when you’re baron. And I will personally cut his heart out if he tries. She thought to herself as they both turned to leave the study. He might have won a few battles, but damn it, I am winning the Wright be damned war.

Seryl 10th, 1513 – Carico Estate, River Sulis, Lothianshire, Albion

“Vivi?” The only response to his inquiry was his sister slamming the library door. Severus sighed. He was beginning to think there was something seriously wrong with Vivi. Most of the time she was her usual smart, funny self–until their brother sent a letter, then she turned into this raging ball of angst and moped and pouted for days on end. No door was ever safe when she was in this mood. And being around the FitzChivalrys, or rather around Caroline, exacerbated it to almost dangerous levels.

He glanced at the library door then sighed. His twin had a theory about what was happening and Severus didn’t like it. He and Leo weren’t that close, but there was something dangerously wrong with his sister and his eldest brother. But short of dragging Leo out into the gardens and beating him senseless, which he didn’t want to explain to his mother, he didn’t any way to solve that. Vivi wouldn’t talk about. Doubly so if Charlie were right. Unfortunately, the only person she’d probably talk about it with was the one that might have been the root of the problem.

So he moved in the opposite direction, onto the balcony. Maybe there was some other problem that he could solve. At least one that involved him personally.

Leo and Caroline were looking at each other as if they were both biting their tongues wanting–but not wanting–to blame each other for Vivi’s leaving. In Severus’ estimation they probably both were.

“So, Vivi cleared out of here pretty fast.” Severus commented to the person he was actually on the balcony to find. Marianne turned so fast that her plait swung almost around to strike her in the shoulder.

“Y-yeah.” She dropped her eyes and stared at her hands before shooting a look at Leo and an almost glare at Caroline. But her eyes came back to his face after a short moment and an almost smile hovered at the corner of her lips.

“Need to warn the baroness of the approaching Reman army?” He joked. She shook her head.

“Said that the air had turned rancid.” Marianne murmured.

“Oh, please. You don’t need to dredge up–muck, Marianne.” Caroline huffed and stood up from the bench.

“I asked, Miss FitzChivalry.” Severus remind her. Lord Wright Almighty, what did she do with her brain? She could store three months worth of scandals and gossip in there, but conveniently forgot when she caused anything worth gossiping about. She also forgot other things when forgetting served her purpose. Like the fact that the lady she was emulating in her costume was best remembered for being the member of the nobility who got there by getting knocked up before her wedding.

“I should probably go talk to Vivi.” Leo muttered toward his boots as Caroline huffed.

“…If she’s still here.” Severus told him. Leo looked at him sharply. “Given the look on her face when she walked past me in the library, she very well may be half-way home by now. Maybe you should let her cool down first.”

“If she’s that annoyed that she’d leave early, it’s all the more reason for me to go talk to her.” Leo bowed to Caroline and nodded at Marianne.

“We should probably get back to the party, I’m sure that Mother won’t like it if we come back soaked in perspiration.” Caroline linked her arm with her sister’s and half dragged her off toward the door. Severus shook his head and trailed after. Along the way, as she apparently had forgotten that Severus was right behind them, Caroline murmured a litany of things that Marianne had done wrong as a chaperone. If she had just suggested that Vivianne go with Elizabet back to the dancing then Leo wouldn’t have spent so much time paying attention to his sister.

If Marianne had just come up with a topic of conversation that didn’t have controversy attached to it, then Caroline never would have had to point out that Benoit had all the brains of a stone statue or that their father didn’t have the best costume at the party.

Or you could just bit your tongue for once. Severus thought sharply at the back of her head as the litany tapered off sharply off. As Caroline explained, it wouldn’t do to give a litany of flaws that Marianne possessed in front of all of the young men in the card room. After all, their father did still need to find a her a husband. That was proving difficult enough even without them knowing all of Marianne’s flaws.

I’d imagine so, he thought. When you have a shrew with the all the faults of a cow demon and none of the virtues of ‘em for a mother and a catty bitch-in-training for a sister, it probably would scare off a few of the fainter-hearted. Oh well, if they’re that stupid, not my fault. Less competition.

“Oh, Leo felt that he needed to check up on his sister, I gather she was in a bit of ill-humor.” Caroline said taking  her seat on the end of the settee, having dropped her sister’s arm and hurried a few steps ahead to proceed Marianne into the card room.

“I hope it’s not serious.” Nadine murmured, looking concerned. “She did seem a bit pale and out of sorts when she left the card room.”

“Well, ill-humor if you consider temper a humor.” Caroline huffed and raised her shoulder in a shrug. “So what did I miss?”

“Oh, you know, Caroline, the light goes out of the room when you leave it.” Audrina smirked. “What could possibly happen without you around to witness it.”

“Other than Lord Joshua was in here for a while playing billiards with that handsome friend of his.” Babette told her.

“Which friend?”

“The scholarship boy. As I was telling Babette while you were gone. I don’t care how nice his rear looks in that leather tunic, he’s still a scholarship boy. You can scrub them up, but you can’t clean them up.” Audrina said. …And Charlie sorta likes her. If I didn’t know my twin better, I would swear it has more to do with the size of the dowry Earl Ravenway is offering for his daughter. It’s like “liking” a shark. Aye, they look impressive from across the way, but I wouldn’t want to marry one.

“What?” Speaking of Severus’ twin, Charlie looked up from his cards when Severus dropped into the empty seat at one of the card tables where Charlie had been fleecing people most of the evening.

“There is no crime in looking.” Babette huffed from across the room.

“You know all those bizarre theories that our baby sister has for–certain people?” Severus asked. Charlie nodded. ” I know where she gets them.”

“You’ll have to explain that one to me–later. So you wanna contribute to my fund here? I think I might be able to buy a new horse before the night is out.” Charlie ran his fingers over the stack of chips.

“Only if you want to cover my drinks at the pub.” Severus batted his lashes at his brother.

“Oh, but where’s the fun in that?” Charlie sighed. “Besides, how shall I afford it and the new horse?”

“Fleece more idiots like us?” Severus asked tossing a stack of coins onto the table and gesturing for some chips.

When Edouard was too drunk to hold his cards steady and Constantin had excused himself to go find Jeremie so they could pour Edouard into a carriage to get him back home, Severus also excused himself as well. He figured he should probably check on when they were expected home. Not that he thought he and Charlie would stay any past the end of the party or that they would go out after it. But he didn’t know if his mother expected them to escort their parents home or if whenever they got there was good enough.

But apparently the ball room had emptied entirely, as he should have known. His father–and all the other fathers–were probably outside smoking and talking. The ladies–well, by this point those still mostly sober were probably helping to pour their less sober friends into carriages just like Dell was helping Jeremie do for his brother.

Well, not quite entirely. Standing at the far end of the room, blonde plait with the caul slipping just slightly to the side contrasting against the teal and gold silk dress.

He’d been standing not far from this spot earlier in the evening, when the ballroom was more full than not, when his father had called him over. The musicians above in the gallery had just struck up a slow song and around him, couples drawn to each other to ask for a dance.

She’d been sitting in the chair not far from where she was standing now, hands folded in her lap, eyes more on them than anywhere in the room.

“Severus, go ask Miss Marianne to dance.” For a man whose whole career was focused around beating around the bush, he didn’t have any patience for it when dealing with his kids.

“Why?” Severus had asked, though there was a puppy dog eager twitch in his feet that had wanted to immediately trot over there, even without looking for where Lord and Lady Henry were. He knew that with Leo’s and Caroline being promised to each other, there really wasn’t any reason for him to look at Marianne. That and she was his sister’s friend. But there was something about the way she had looked, the very first time that he had met her–at one of his mother’s garden parties–the year that they’d first moved to River Sulis.

She’d been–oh–ten or eleven, wearing a soft rose and white striped dress, twisting her hands just like she was doing now, standing shyly at the edge of the hedgemaze. And something in him had decided right then, without any consultation, that he wanted to marry her. He hadn’t–at the time–even known her name. A lot of things had changed in those four years–but the way he always found himself looking at her–that hadn’t changed at all.

But he couldn’t tell his father that, not even when his father started talking about a marriage between Leo and Caroline. How do you say that. No, dad, you can’t marry Leo off to Caroline. I decided at a garden party I was going to marry her sister. Yeah, that’d have gone well.

“Because she keeps looking at the dance floor with a wistful expression that says clearer than words that she’d like to dance–and obviously no one has asked her.” That twitched at something inside of  Severus, that was both good and bad. If she had a suitor–then he’d have some reason to move on–but he would admit to being very glad that he had no competition. If Leo and Caroline would just implode like they were threatening to…

… Maybe?

“But why me?” Severus had asked as his heart declared him a traitor.

“Because you’re a gentleman and a Ferreira–and the only time we leave a lady in distress is when attempting to rescue her will cause her more distress–and besides, you’re the only one in the room that I can order to go do it. Now go.”

He’d sidled past the couples between him and Marianne and slipped into one of the chairs to her side.

“My father seems to be under the impression you’d like to dance.” He had placed his elbow on the arm of the chair and batted his lashes at her when she looked at him.

“Your father is asking me to dance?” She’d looked at him bewildered before peering past him to where his father was dancing with his mother.

“No! No. He–he wanted me to ask you to dance. I mean if you wanted to.”

“Oh–I–well.” Her eyes flickered down to her hands. “The floor is pretty crowded–except over there.”

“Aye, but if we go over there, we’ll have to see Captain Cox’s tunic up close, I see your dilemma.” Severus had joked to keep his shoulders from drooping dejectedly.

“Oh, don’t–don’t think that I don’t want to dance with you, Severus. Please. May–maybe at another dance–one not so–you know–crowded.” Her eyes, always a brilliant unclouded teal pleaded with him to understand.

So later he had agreed, then retreated after a long moment, to the card room where he hadn’t had to worry about the next dance and if there were to be one. But the musicians had already packed it in for the night apparently as the gallery was empty. Still his heart was pounding a beat of its own.

“You know, Miss Marianne.” He almost swallowed his own tongue when she turned to look at him. “You still owe me a dance.”

“I-I do–don’t I? But–” She glanced up at the empty gallery.

“It’s always going to be something then, isn’t it?” Severus sighed, hoping to keep the tone jocular. Maybe it was all for the better, the way his palms were sweating.

“No. If–if you don’t mind the lack of music, I–I don’t mind it.” She admitted toward her hands. He extended one cold clammy hand to her and she took it. The other he settled at her waist before beginning the first steps. But even with only the sounds of their dance steps echoing off the dark marble and up through the empty ballroom for accompaniment, it was better than he could have imagined any professional musician could have played it.

It was allowed to just be, a spin here…

…faster here, slower there…

… until reality reasserted itself and he brought her with one final twirl to a stop.

“Thank you, Mr. Severus.” Marianne giggled as he brought her hand to his lips as the stepped apart.

“Wait, one last thing.” Severus said, the words out of his mouth before he even could think about them. She turned back toward him from where they had started to drift apart. He caught her hand, turning her around in one last twirl.

Seryl 10th, 1513 – Carico Estate, Lothianshire, Albion

“If you don’t mind my saying… you are an idiot, brother dear. I love you. But you’re an idiot.” A voice whispered in Josh’s ear, causing him to jump and almost slam the library door.

Being a year older certainly hadn’t softened his sister any. Well, with Bet, he supposed that was only to be expected. He was a thin cover of fragile marble laid over a marshmallow center, Elizabet was diamond from the core out, only her physical appearance usually granted her any softness at all.

Tonight, however, even the usual softness granted to her by her hair and the clothing she wore had been traded for something else. Her costume, that of Lady Morgan le Fay, added an extra physical hardness to her. She certainly was shades of a legend in it, but if there was something that the Lady Morgan of legend and Elizabet shared, it was a distinct lack of the appellation “soft”.

“How,” his voice cracked slightly. He coughed into his hand and tried again. “How do you mean?”

“This is just like you, Josh. Just go in and talk to him.” Elizabet shoved at his shoulder. “I promise nothing’s changed.”

“That’s what you think.” Josh muttered. Elizabet rolled her eyes.

“Okay, let me rephrase that, except what’s going on in here.” She paused to tap the side of Josh’s head with a long finger. “Nothing has changed with him. You’re a better host than that.” Josh was starting to feel like Benoit, that was to say lost, in what should be a simple conversation to follow. He’d been doing okay until that sharp left turn at the end there. “Darin came to my party because you asked, in fact I’m pretty sure, given how much he protested whenever the party came up in conversation, that you insisted that he come.”

She sighed. “So he came and his date is in the ballroom chatting up other people and he’s hiding in the library with Ri, only she at least is pretending that she is interested in that book of poetry she’s holding, and he’s staring at the Orkney crest on the wall.” Elizabet shook her head one of the flowers woven into the dark strands of her hair threatening to slide out. “It is your duty as host of this event–and as the person who invited him–to make sure that Darin has a good time. So.” She poked him hard through the sleeve of his doublet. “Oww.” She complained. “What do you keep under that thing, Josh? Rocks?” She wandered off still muttering about how nothing good could come from a birthday where she hurt her finger on her brother’s bicep.

“You have better manners than that, Joshua Piers!” She called from the dining room door, waggling a finger in his direction. She was right, of course, damn her. He did have better manners than that. But she didn’t understand.

It had all started in the reception line. He’d caught sight of Darin in his costume as Florian Carey, the later years steward of Earl Pellinore, a rather ironic choice, as Florian was said to have a very peculiar sense of humor and a distinct sense of whimsy. Darin, so far as Josh had ever seen, had no sense of humor and wouldn’t know whimsy if it bit him in the arse. He could never imagine Darin holding a record for being kicked out of the most taverns in his time in Albion, managing to even beat Captain Jessiah Andavri for the record!

The blonde wig didn’t suit him. Josh had decided as he nodded in response to whatever Lord Henry had just muttered to him, briefly losing sight of Darin to the huge puffed shoulders of Lady Henry’s costume. It made his face look sallow and drawn, contrasting badly with the dusky tone of his skin and reinforcing the hollow hopelessness that was almost always lurking in Darin’s blue eyes.

He needed–he needed… His mind was pulled back onto what he was supposed to be paying attention to, which was the receiving line, by the sound of Lady Henry simpering to his mother.

“Oh, Lady Marisol, I was so grieved to hear that Lord Jayson would be missing this. I know that Henry wouldn’t have missed our girls debuts for anything. I would half expect him to crawl out of the grave to be at Julia’s. Such a shame that he couldn’t make it back from Camelot in time.”

Josh’s mother was obviously trying to wrangle whatever sharp thing that had been building behind her teeth into something appropriate to say at a party when the tension was defused by an unlady-like snort from the woman behind Lady Henry in the receiving line.

“What?” Lady Henry turned, affronted.

“Oh, nothing, I am sure you are terribly grieved,” Madame Cox smiled as she gave Elizabet a hug. “I, unfortunately, have mixed feelings on the whole thing. It certainly is a shame that the baron will miss this.” She winked at Elizabet. “But it does mean that Masen is still in Camelot too, which kind of dries any tears I might have over the whole thing.” Elizabet covered her mouth with her hand, probably covering a giggle as well. Josh’s mother was too well schooled to smirk, but he thought he detected a hint of a smile at the corners of her lips too.

“Surely you wouldn’t stand for Master Masen missing your own daughter’s debut!” Lady Henry asked, planting her hands on her hips. Lord Henry was looking like he was praying for the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

“It would honestly depend on why he was missing it.” Madame Cox said, ignoring Lady Henry’s stance to lean in and kiss Marisol’s cheek. “After all, the universe is the Lord Wright’s to control and not ours. And certainly should it be fire, flood, or act of Wright that was preventing him from being there, he’d be excused in my eyes!” She fluttered her lashes in Lady Henry’s direction.

Lady Henry stormed off to where Lord Henry stood waiting looking like he still wanted to be swallowed by the paving stones, forgetting to say anything to Josh at all. “What?” She hissed at him.

“I told you not to get into that with Lady Marisol, Katherine. It’s not like she’d miss that it was a jab at her.” Lord Henry muttered before heading off toward the house, their murmured conversation fading as they went. Madame Cox, then the Captain and Mrs. Cox followed through without further incident when Josh caught sight of Darin and his date as well.

“You might as well come up, Darin, we’ve already spotted you.” Elizabet called to the pair at the bottom of the stairs. “And you’ll have to forgive me for asking who this lovely young lady you’re escorting is.”

“This is Eve Rose.” Darin said. Marisol’s eyebrow shot up as she looked over her shoulder at Josh who shrugged. Actually he had known that Darin was planning on inviting Eve, but there was no way to gently break that bit of information to his mother, so he would just pretend that he hadn’t known. Whether it worked was anyone’s guess.

“Rose–any relation to Reginald? Or to Guardsman Colby?” Elizabet asked curiously.

“Aye.” Eve said with a smile. It was Elizabet’s turn to look at Josh, only her expression was puzzled. He shrugged again. “They’re my brothers.”

“Oh–I didn’t know that Colby was related to Reginald.” Elizabet said faintly.

“We don’t make much of a deal of it. There are people,” Eve looked at the back of Miguel’s gaudy tunic as it was disappearing into the distance. “who would make it into something it isn’t. Call Colby’s loyalty to the guard into question when there’s no need for it. He wouldn’t do that.” Elizabet nodded in seeming understanding, probably actual understanding, if Josh could follow it, then Elizabet could more than likely follow it that much easier. Not for the first time he thought that River Sulis would have a much brighter future if there were some way that he could step aside and let his sister take the barony when their father died. The last thing this town needed was an idiot like him in a position of rank.

As Eve, Josh’s mother, and sister fell into easy discussion of the various costumes, Josh was pinned in place by Darin’s blue eyes. A wave of something that he had been trying–for months–to ignore or mislabel swept over him. And like a sharp slap to the face it was impossible to mistake it for anything else, that wave of lust, woven tight with softer things; hope, comfort, security, (love?) all wrapped up in a pulse of “want, want, want”. When that one single, perfect moment passed, between one heartbeat and the next, a second wave of much more familiar emotion rolled in: hopelessness, cowardice, panic on the verge of physical pain. Still, he had been trained from the cradle to keep up appearances, and so he murmured out some mechanical formula to Darin and then to Eve. They too turned down the path toward the house. All Josh wanted to do was run. But he couldn’t. It was Elizabet’s debut party and he, despite what he wanted, had a job to do. He was the host.

Still, that was what had lead to him standing out in the hallway lurking outside the library. Knowing that Darin was miserable and that it was his duty, his responsibility to make him happier or at least more comfortable–but–being a coward and as Bet so gently reminded him, an idiot. Oh, he didn’t want to mess up everything he’d built with Darin with him being stupid. Darin had forgiven him a lot, including everything that had happened that night, but he’d never forgive him for this. And Josh would never forgive himself if he ever let on.

But Darin saw right to the quick on so many things, how could he hide this from him?

He had hated himself lots and lots of times, but never more than in the stasis he found himself in standing outside the door to the library. The question “why” pounding in his head in time to the pounding of his heart. Why me? Why him? Why now? Why this? Why-why-why?

He took a step back as a group of his father’s contemporaries headed for the library–or maybe the balcony outside of it where they could smoke their pipes and talk about things that sometime in the next ten years society dictated would become the very most important things.

A moment later, the door to the library opened and Josh caught sight of a green sleeve, hurriedly he turned toward an arrangement of roses on a side table and began fiddling with the positioning.

Darin hesitated for a moment, but apparently the ruse worked, for he turned and wandered off in the direction of the bulk of the party. Still caught up in self-loathing, still hating himself for doing it, Josh followed along silent as a shadow and just as insignificant.

Darin seated himself on one of the gold settes in the corner of the room. Josh’s mother had been threatening for years to recover them, firmly of the opinion that the gold didn’t go–but she hadn’t found a fabric that she liked in their place, so there they stayed.

“There’s a seat open, Darin.” Dell said jerking his chin at the empty seat at one of the card tables. “Oww. What was that for?” He reached down to rub his right shin.

“For being stupid.” Severus said. Josh sighed to himself. Being stupid indeed.

“Are you sure?” Jules asked, looking over his shoulder.

“Nah, I’m not much of a poker player.” Liar, Josh thought, Darin was a helluva card sharp, Josh knew he played a lot with his own friends. He just didn’t play with Josh’s friends. It was just a lot of tutoring sessions to put into stakes. They thought nothing of tossing in a few silvers to a “friendly” game. Darin had to think of it, he didn’t have the luxury of thinking that money was unimportant.

“Besides, I’m more fascinated by the schoolteacher hustling the nun at billiards.” Darin joked, jerking his head toward where the Mrs. Coxes were playing an absolutely cutthroat game. Madame Cox laughed before turning toward Josh, who was still lurking in the doorway, eyebrow arched. Josh hurried into the room, trying not to look like he was hurrying. Somehow he didn’t think it worked to fool her. He dropped, hopefully casually, into the seat next to Darin.

“I meant to ask, Madame Cox, who are you supposed to be?” Charlie asked, turning in his chair to look over his shoulder.

“See, that’s the trouble with attempting to be clever,” she said to the room at large. “You never know if you’re succeeding in being clever or if you’re missing the mark. Heloise.”

“Pardon?”

“Heloise–the elder daughter of the first branch of Wesleyans in Albion. She’s a distant ancestor of mine or so the family legend goes.”

“The one who published all those scandalous treatises?”

“Aye.” Madame Cox said. “We both share a talent for saying things that are–mildly–scandalous.” Mrs. Cox choked. “Oh, c’mon, those books weren’t so bad.” She nudged the woman dressed in the nun’s habit with her elbow.

“Yes, Annette, they were!”

“They’re educational at the very least.” Madame Cox said blandly.

“I could have gone my whole life without that kind of education.” Mrs. Cox said primly. “It’s your turn.”

“So,” Josh said almost freezing again when Darin turned those heart-of-the-ocean blue eyes on him. “How you are doing?” Darin’s brow rose sharply, though it was half obscured by the blonde strands falling in his face.

“Words fail me.” Darin said. Aye, I was afraid of that. Josh thought.

“Hmmm. Well would you say it’s on par with the historical epic–or is it more like that Reman poetry recital?” Josh asked.

“More like that one time I walked into the hall by the salle and saw Brother Loki with his tongue in Brother Dustin’s mouth.” Darin told him blandly.

“Yeesh.” Josh said.

“Wait, you saw Loki kissing Dustin–and you didn’t tell us?” Edouard asked, slurring just slightly. His head was going to kill him in the morning. It was a good thing that they had the week off of courses. Of course it was no real surprise that he’d hit the bottle at any occasion. Josh didn’t know what he was drinking to forget, but he’d lay a month’s pocket money that whatever it was… it was something serious.

“…Aye.” Darin said after a long moment.

“Why?”

“I guess cause they–um–like each other? Why do most people kiss?” Josh couldn’t see Darin’s expression, but could hear his eyes rolling in his voice.

“No, I mean why didn’t you tell us?”

“Because I know what you’d likely do with the knowledge.” Darin asked. “C’mon, I’m the orphaned street rat, you’re the gentlemen. If I have the manners not to gossip and make fun of them, you should know better yourselves, but that’s never stopped you before. What business is it of any of ours if Loki and Dustin are–um–fond of each other?”

“Father Remi says that it’s a mortal sin.” Jules said rubbing the back of his neck.

Josh heard Darin’s sharp intake of breath and nudged him slightly. “Well, if  Father Remi said that the sky was blue, I would probably go stick my head outside and check that it hadn’t turned green with violet spots before I believed it.” Darin said folding his arms over his chest and slumping back into the settee.

Josh leaned toward him and murmured “Nicely said.” by his ear. Darin glanced and him and shrugged again. Josh nodded and stared at his boots for a long moment, trying to pull his heart back out of his throat and into his chest where it belonged, feeling the hammering of his pulse to the soles of his feet. What am I going to do?

Catch your breath hit the wall, scream out loud, as you start to crawl back in your cage the only place, where they will leave you alone.

Darid 25th, 1513 – The Academy of St. Hugh, River Sulis, Lothianshire, Albion

“Don’t tell me you’re done already.” A strong pale hand caught Brother Dustin by the throat. It’s twin caught him as somewhat lower as well, the lower hand shifting slightly so that broad, close cropped nails dug in the length of him. Dustin didn’t know what to tell him, not that it really mattered, he couldn’t have spoken even if he had known.

Loki stepped just a bit closer, the grip on his neck tightening to the point where his instincts were starting to kick in, adrenaline raced down his muscles, it’d hurt more if he tried to run, but his body wanted to. Perversely, it also wanted to press him back against the broad chest flush with his shoulders, to grind against Loki.

He’d prayed to the Lord so many times to clear him of these thoughts. But he came back, he always came back. Even when he had to walk, humiliatingly, into the dining hall at the abbey, the eyes of all the monks on him, his abused body clenched tight against leaking, unable to clean up because they were running late–or because Loki just hadn’t given him permission to do so. The knowing looks burned like salt sprinkled on the shallow cuts of Loki’s riding crop on his back.

But every time Loki cocked an eyebrow at him, Dustin slunk back to his metaphorical bed–in the years that they had been doing this, there had only been a couple of times that they’d had anything so mundane as a bed. Hughian monks, bar the abbot, slept in a barracks like dormitory room. Some other orders gave their monks the privilege of cells, even if they were no more than a cot, clothes chest, and place to kneel and pray.

There had been the once that Valen had sent Loki and Dustin to Port Finessa to collect some materials for him, they’d stayed one night in an inn because the weather had taken a nasty turn and the one monastery that would have put them up for the night, the brothers were suffering from a nasty flux. A couple of overnights to the capital in Reme, where Albionese monks were not always welcome.

But even had a bed been available to them, Loki probably would have chosen the floor, or a bench, or table. Beds, Dustin figured, were for lovers–not whatever the hell he and Loki were–other than on a fast track to hell.

“You’re not attentive tonight, cher.” Loki pouted in his ear. It was pretty much the only Gaulish that Loki ever used and the closest to informal they ever were. It was like they couldn’t do this if Loki was calling him by his Wrightian name. He grabbed hold of the back of Dustin’s neck with those neat, even white teeth sinking in to a point that would leave a bruise. He hoped to Wright that it was some place that his tail would cover. The last time he had to wear a high necked undergarment for like a week for the bruises to fade. It wouldn’t do for the students to see a monk running around with bite marks and bruises on his neck.

Loki was getting worse about it, it was like something inside the other monk was slipping… But like Dustin had any room to talk. He was the one who let Loki fuck him open wide right there on the desk that Loki’d be teaching at come morning. He raised his hand and touched the lock of hair right above Loki’s temple. It was one of their signals that Dustin needed to talk to the other man.

He wondered if it would work. It didn’t always. But Loki stepped away, letting Dustin take a couple of hard breaths. “I’m sorry.”

Loki stepped closer, heavy lids half closed. “Don’t be sorry, just say whatever you need to babble about so we can get back to what we were doing.” He gave Dustin’s nipple a quick pinch/twist as if to remind him. As if he could forget. “I don’t have all night, someone’s bound to notice we’re gone, and I don’t feel like dealing with Valen’s slurring tonight and Baron Jayson in the morning.”

“The baron? Why are you seeing him?” Dustin blurted out without thinking.

“Are you jealous?” Loki asked with a sneer.

“No.” Dustin didn’t know why his voice trembled on it. He wasn’t jealous, in fact it would probably be better if Loki found some other playmate. (…Plaything…) Not that he would, at least not in Jayson of Carico, the baron would never submit to Loki, and Loki needed to be the undisputed alpha.

The sneer jumped up a notch, before melting into smirk that ended in a heavy lidded salacious smile. “I need to talk with him about Joshua.” Dustin bit his lip.

“Why?” He couldn’t have been acting up in class, Joshua hadn’t been in since the previous week.

“Because he’s been skipping class.” Loki told him, rolling his eyes.

“I thought he was ill, he hasn’t been in anyone’s classes.” Dustin offered. It was hard not to notice Joshua, even in a class full of young noblemen, he hardly blended in, there was something about his glossy ash blonde hair and cat swept slate eyes that made him stand out almost always.

“I had thought that myself, but according to what I heard from a little bird, whatever this mysterious illness is hasn’t stopped him from going to the tavern in the evening.” There was something about Loki’s expression that twisted Dustin’s stomach with both fear and lust. He ignored the lust for now.

“You do know what will happen if you talk with the baron, Loki.”

“Oh, how sweet.” Loki simpered. “You’re worried for poor Joshua. If you have the time for that, cher, I guess I’ll have to take it off your hands.” The other man pulled Dustin into a crushing grip, forcing his mouth onto Dustin’s and smothering any protests with his mouth and tongue. Leaving Dustin with nothing to do but scrabble at his back and tip his head to give Loki the angle he needed to steal all of Dustin’s air entirely.

When he was breathless and shaking with reaction, Loki struck again, forcing him to the floor, pinning him in place. He felt the other man’s spit slide between his cheeks before being forced open with careless disregard for the state of Dustin’s internal organs.

—

Darid 27th, 1513 – Carico estate, River Sulis, Lothianshire, Albion

Josh’s hand shook as he reached for the library door.  Dorine had had that almost expressionless, sympathetic look on her face when she had tapped on his bedroom door to tell him that his lord father wished to speak with him in the library. It told Josh all he needed to know. He’d been caught, there was nothing to do but face up to the music. But that didn’t stop him from wishing that he could do anything but go into the library and speak with his father.

But Jayson was not one to be kept waiting and so Josh pushed the door open. His father was sitting at one of the tables reading a book. He looked up when Josh entered, glanced one last time at the page and shut the book with a soft thud.

“Have a seat, Joshua.” Jayson’s voice was as clear, icy, and even as if he were giving a speech. Josh wasn’t fooled, but he walked to one of the chairs by the fireplace, unlit logs sitting on the andirons at the moment, the fire wasn’t needed and given all of the books in the room, if it wasn’t needed, it wasn’t kept lit. He slipped into the chair and stared at the carvings on the fireplace.

He heard his father put his book away, then his firm footfalls as he walked to the other chair and sank into it with an easy grace that always made Josh feel like a lumbering behemoth. Jayson smoothed his tunic and looked at Josh with what was ostensibly disinterested curiosity.

“I’ve had a most interesting conversation with Brother Loki at the Academy, Joshua.” Jayson began, pinning him in place with a glare that practically dared Josh to squirm. He didn’t and Jayson continued. “He tells me that you’ve been skipping your classes this week. Is there a reason for that?”

It sounded so reasonable, so like if Josh would just explain then this could all go away. It wouldn’t and so Josh worked up enough spit to say “Not really.” If Josh had cared to inform his father about why he was skipping class–well–he wouldn’t have been in the situation that lead him to skip class in the first place.

No, he really didn’t want to tell his father about Philipa’s drug problem or all the money that she owed some thug in a stylish suit. He didn’t want to tell him about how he had gone to talk with said thug when Philipa told him that Marcinak was pressing her to steal some trial information from her father so that he could set his lackeys to intimidating the jury in a case against one of Marcinak’s lieutenants.

Philipa would never have gotten into her father’s office to steal that information. Either Marcinak didn’t understand that–or he was trying to set her up somehow. Josh didn’t know. Although that wasn’t really the reason that Josh had been skipping class this week. Sure, walking through the halls with a face as worked over as his had been would have been more attention than Josh would have wanted, but not all of it would have been negative.

No, it had more to do with where he sat than what his face looked like. Josh felt like he owed Darin some sort of an answer for all the crap he’d put the other boy through the other night and Josh didn’t have one. And somehow, even having run over in his head what was likely to happen to him if he did cut class–Josh didn’t have any hope that he would have been able to get away with doing it–he couldn’t go sit in those classrooms right next to Darin and not be able to tell him something.

You don’t just kiss a man and go on with your life as if nothing happened. Josh had a tough enough time with the idea of kissing a girl and going on with his life like it hadn’t happened. No, Darin’s willingness to let it go or not, he deserved an explanation and Josh didn’t want to face him until he had one.

Seeing as he couldn’t come up with a reason why he kissed him and his mind just wouldn’t let go of the fact that he had, the only thing he could do was avoid Darin, which considering he sat next to him in most of their classes, wasn’t all that easy to do. At least without skipping school.

And if telling Jayson about Philipa was out of the question, telling his father that he’d randomly kissed a man for no apparent good reason was a whole other universe of something altogether.

“I see.” Jayson said, folding his hands. “Joshua, what am I going to do with you? One of these days you are going to have to think about what you’re doing. You will be a baron one day and do you think that the other noblemen are just going to shrug or throw their hands up if you continue to act without thinking.” He paused as if collecting his thoughts.

“Has it occurred to you, Joshua, that having an ineffectual lord in this town is simply asking Reme to attempt to take it back? And do you really think that you would survive it if they did? And what might happen to your mother? Your sister? if that happened?” Jayson sighed but it didn’t cover the sound of the door closing.

Josh’s spine tingled, knowing there were eyes on his back. He knew exactly who was watching him, but Josh knew enough to know you didn’t take your eyes off Jayson, the other wouldn’t make a move until Jayson loosed his reins.

“Ah, Cox, right on time.” Jayson said with a half smile. Josh heard the sound of cloth rustling and felt his throat go drier if that was even possible.

And just a moment later, at the corner of his vision, Cox appeared. As Josh had suspected, he’d shed his coat and waistcoat, Madame Cox refused to even send his clothing to the laundress if he had blood on it. Blood, she had apparently told him, was not part of his job description and cleaning it up was not at all part of her job description. If he was going to get his clothing bloody, he could make sure that it got clean too.

“I am just trying to make you think, son.” Jayson said before standing. “I’m sure you understand.” Josh said nothing, nor did Cox. The library door shut with a soft click that might as well have been the ponderous thud of a stone crypt door.

Josh said nothing, just got out of his chair, no reason to make more work for the parlor maids and walked over to the empty space next to the door. Cox followed and Josh turned, his lips turned faintly up at the corners because you didn’t show fear to a mad dog.

That was the last coherent thought that went through his mind before he doubled over the wind knocked clear out of him.

His last thought at all was how brightly the light seemed to catch Cox’s wedding band right before the fist it was wrapped around caught his chin and all he saw was black.

—

The library was dark except the light of a single candle when Josh came to himself, curled up on one side, blood puddled under his cheek. The hem of a something fluttered near him, neat slippers stopped just a fingers-width from the blood.

“Bet?” He pushed the rough croak out of his desert-dry throat.

“Well,” She said, voice sounding on the edge of tears. “It’s not the queen.” He tried to chuckle–it hurt. The cold stone floor had leeched all the heat from his body and seemed to make every bruise protest that much more as he slowly pushed up into a sitting position and then even more slowly got to his feet. He could barely stay on them starting to tumble back to the floor when Elizabet caught him. How her small, almost frail body managed to keep him even a little upright amazed him.

“I got you.” She whispered in his ear. “I got you.”