Page 19 of A Gaze So Longing (The Fall of Livenza #1)

Favian had a sister now.

No, he had always had a sister; he had just never known it. At least, that was his understanding of the situation. Maybe he needed to ask Nico, no, damn it, Nia, a few more questions.

Favian had apologized to Rodrigo, and Rodrigo to him, but the air between them was still heavy. He suspected Rodrigo was still resentful of Favian’s poor reaction to seeing Nia in a dress, and Favian still wished Rodrigo had talked to him in a less cryptic, more understanding way.

Likely realizing that Favian was lost in thought, Leonardo had ridden ahead of him and was already getting changed in their usual spot.

Shortly after Favian caught up, the prince emerged from the trees in Favian’s clothes and a necklace Favian had approved as not too royal looking , but instead of mounting Azure right away, he gave a wave, catching Favian’s attention.

“You seem more distracted than usual today,” Leonardo said. “Did something happen?”

There was not a second in which Favian considered sharing Nia’s identity with Leonardo—after all, she had asked him not to—but figuring out how to reply still took him a moment.

They were past the point where he could lie about something the prince had already picked up on, and he didn’t feel like deceiving him anyway.

He wanted to be honest with Leonardo—the prince made him feel like he should, like he could .

Favian chose his words carefully when he answered, “I learned something new about a person close to me recently. I cannot share what it is or who I’m talking about, but it has unsettled a familiar relationship, and I need some time to adjust.”

“Is it something bad?”

Favian fervently shook his head. “No, no, not at all, it’s just—it’s something unexpected. And new.”

That made Leonardo smile. “New and unexpected may be quite the way to describe these recent weeks, don’t you think?”

Not knowing how to respond, trying hard to ignore the charming dimples on the prince’s cheeks and the dazzling sparkle in his eyes, Favian gestured towards the cliff. “Shall we?”

On weekends, the tavern was busy. Tomorrow, a lot of the villagers would rest, giving them more than enough reason to spend the night drinking, and so the place was already crowded by the time the prince and his servant reached the door.

They were greeted by some familiar faces on the porch teeming with people; it was loud and stuffy, bodies touching whether they wanted to or not.

Quickly, Favian and Leonardo made their way to the far corner of the counter, a motion that had become familiar.

“Oh,” Favian said quietly. Their usual seats were taken already, two middle-aged women laughing heartily in their place.

“Amina is here. We could sit with her instead?” Leonardo proposed, gesturing towards their acquaintance.

Favian had hoped for a rather quiet evening, but that had been his mistake. He should have expected The Moonlit Sunflower to be busy, and now he chastised himself for not mentally preparing for a loud and lively night. Since there were barely any free seats left, he had no choice but to agree.

When Amina spotted them, she interrupted the conversation she was in the middle of, got up, and gave Leonardo a wide hug and a wider grin. “Toni!” she exclaimed.

Each time they came here, Favian had to actively remind himself of the name the prince had chosen for himself in this place, but no matter how many visits they made, it never stopped feeling wrong.

He was glad Amina and Leonardo got along now, even if their first meeting had gone less than ideally.

Favian’s feelings toward Amina were complicated, mostly because she seemed to think they were closer than they were, and she touched him way too often for his liking.

But she was also ever-filled to the brim with questions and topics for discussion, and Leonardo seemed to enjoy having someone to talk with to whom conversation came as easily as it did to him.

There was also a certain fire in Amina that Favian had to admit to himself he admired, even if it was overwhelming at times.

“Do you know this one?” she asked Leonardo as she began dealing cards, some facing up, some down.

Leonardo shook his head, his arm on the table dangerously close to Favian’s.

“My parents taught me,” Amina explained before laying out the rules.

After a first round, while Leonardo, once again, lost, he inquired in a tone so eager it ached Favian to witness it, “What are your parents’ professions?”

Perhaps Favian had misunderstood the prince’s intention behind these visits. The more often they came here, the more Favian wondered if Leonardo was not only interested in seeing how the townsfolk lived, not only acting as a spectator—perhaps, he truly wanted to get to know them.

“My father owns a tailoring business,” Amina replied. “My mother makes lace.”

Favian felt the radiance coming off of Leonardo before he saw it in his face.

“I love lace!” he exclaimed, “I have these—”

Favian bumped his knee into the prince’s underneath the table.

Amina’s head perked up. “You can afford lace? What do you do? I thought you worked in the palace?”

“Oh, I—My mother is a weaver.” Leonardo’s lie was certainly only so elegant because it was Favian’s truth instead.

“Sometimes, they have lace at her place of work. I hope I can make some myself one day. I have to admit. . .” Leaning forward conspiratorially, Leonardo held up one hand to his mouth.

“Sometimes I try on the pieces when nobody is looking.”

This earned him a chuckle, Amina’s features relaxing at the explanation. “You sure are naughty, Toni.”

Favian grabbed the cards on the table. “Let’s play another round,” he interrupted whatever was going on between the two of them.

“What is your issue today?”

Only then did he realize that before this sudden exclamation, he had not spoken a single word since sitting down at the table. He shook his head, arms steady, fingers not fidgeting with the cards in his hands, trying to appear unbothered. “Just some stuff to think about.”

This turned out to be the exact wrong thing to say. Or maybe Amina would have moved to the topic regardless, as she was prone to do. “It’s the bastard, isn’t it? What has he done this time? Have you been sent to the dungeons again? What has he made you do?”

Favian was too tired for this. Too tired to deflect, to downplay, to protect. “The usual is hard enough.”

Leonardo abruptly turned towards him. They both knew that King Amondo was treating his servants horrifically, that Favian, by his protective nature, was frequently on the short end of the stick even though he was proficient at following orders.

But in all the weeks since the prince had returned, in Leonardo’s presence, Favian had not once admitted the toll His Majesty’s treatment took on him.

To Leonardo, Favian had never admitted the reality of how profoundly life at the palace impacted him.

In front of Leonardo, he always deflected.

“Hear that,” Amina said, raising her jug as if to cheer. “It’s about time you accepted that. You’ve been weirdly protective of the royals lately.” She leveled her gaze, searching his eyes. “Happen to have anything to do with the prince’s return?”

Favian regarded her, trying to identify what exactly she was getting at. “Why would it?”

The woman leaned back, placing an elbow on the armrest of her chair. “You’re not the only one from the palace coming here, you know. People talk.”

“About me?” His voice grew louder, his heartbeat faster.

He felt fingers touching his leg, Leonardo softly placing a hand on his thigh. Any other hand, he would have shoved away. “I’m sure it’s just silly gossip. I think I forgot something on the porch. Can we head outside for a moment?”

This was his chance; Leonardo was giving him an out.

But—

For once, he didn’t want to take it.

He ignored the prince, staring at Amina. “What do people say about me?”

She appeared to be enjoying this. She shrugged, considering him in return. “That you two used to be close. Weirdly close. That he visits you all the time. That his everlasting love for you is the reason he put in a good word for you with His Majesty.”

Favian got up way too quickly, dizziness overtaking him as he placed his hands on the table and leaned forward. “Why do you care?” he demanded.

Leonardo’s hand was on his back now. The touch no longer unsettled him. It, too, had become familiar.

“We can leave,” the prince said quietly before Amina could respond.

Did Favian want to leave?

He badly wanted to hear more. He also desperately didn’t.

People talk about me. About Leonardo and me.

It was only a matter of time until those rumors reached the king, and then his life would be hell again. His chest was heaving, hard.

Amina was watching him curiously, seemingly waiting to see what he would do.

“Favian, let’s just leave.”

He looked at the prince, two faces betraying nothing but uncertainty.

“Please?”

And with that, all the fight went out of him. He nodded, mumbled an apology to Amina without looking at her, and allowed Leonardo to lead them out of the inn. They got onto their horses in silence and made for the palace.

On the weekend, the roads were fuller than most nights, forcing them to weave through other people, horses, and even a few carriages around the tavern.

The crowd seemed agitated, the air tense despite the many voices, so they passed as quickly as they could without drawing too much attention to themselves.

Eventually, the voices grew more and more quiet, and Favian tensed in anticipation of the questions Leonardo was bound to ask, the comments he was bound to make.

But instead:

A bang.

Somewhere not far away—

A rifle being fired.