Page 20 of A Gaze So Longing (The Fall of Livenza #1)

It was a strange sound, one Favian had only heard twice before, when he had been picking flowers too close to the forest while His Majesty was hunting.

Favian never would have expected to hear this sound out here, unaware that the weapon had become so widely accessible in the years since he had first encountered the deafening noise of a bullet being fired.

Favian cursed, spurred on Alto, and quickly brought them further away from the ruckus at the tavern.

When he turned to check on Leonardo, however, he found that the prince had not moved at all, Azure prodding nervously underneath him.

Even at a distance, Favian could see the panic in Leonardo’s wide eyes, the tension in his body.

Oh.

Favian made his way back to the prince. Leonardo’s eyes were glassy, focused on something only he could see. “Your Highness?”

Nothing.

Shit.

“Your Highness, I will get us further away from the tavern now, alright?”

Still, nothing.

And suddenly, Favian was running on instincts he hadn’t known he possessed.

He took the reins from Leonardo’s hands, softly guiding the prince’s hands to rest on the sides of Azure’s neck instead, closing his fingers around the horse’s mane.

Favian guided them further away as swiftly as he dared without risking Leonardo slipping from Azure’s back.

Two more shots jerked the air around them, each sounding more distant than the last.

Favian didn’t dare look at Leonardo, afraid the prince’s expression would distract him too much to lead them to safety.

When they reached the forest, Favian brought the horses to a halt. Leonardo was still frozen in place, his breath shallow.

“Your Highness?” Favian asked again. This time, the prince’s fingers twitched, but his gaze remained somewhere far away.

They could not return to the palace like this—Leonardo was still wearing Favian’s clothes. Even if they did make it to the grounds, how would the majesties react to their son in such a state? How would Favian even get the prince anywhere close to his quarters without anyone seeing them together?

No, they had to resolve this here.

This.

Favian recognized it. The fear in Leonardo’s eyes, the tremble, the breathing.

What had the prince said when it had been Favian who could barely breathe? That he knew of soldiers returning who were thrown into moments like these by memories of war?

Whatever it was that Leonardo needed right now, Favian had to get him off his mare first.

He gave it one last try. “Your Highness?” When Leonardo still didn’t respond, Favian took a deep breath, placed one hand on the prince’s arm and the other on his shoulder, and said, louder this time—

“Leonardo?”

The name tasted of honey and roasted sunflower seeds.

Finally, it caught the prince’s attention. He turned his head, achingly slowly, but his eyes were glassy, giving the impression that he was looking through Favian.

“I’m going to help you down, alright? Can you move?”

Leonardo’s chin twitched in what Favian read as a nod.

He reached for the prince’s hands again, loosening the fingers tightly holding on to Azure’s mane.

One after another, they unfolded, giving Favian an unobstructed view of the wounds Leonardo had inflicted on himself by burying his fingernails into his palms. The sight was so familiar it hurt.

As was the fact that the prince barely flinched when Favian’s hands accidentally brushed against the bleeding cuts.

Achingly slowly, Favian aided Leonardo’s descent from Azure’s back until the prince landed on two feet. His legs immediately gave way, and Leonardo dropped to his knees, his previously shallow breath now coming in hard gasps.

The familiarity of it all made Favian want to cry.

Were he in this position, Favian would have wanted to be left alone, but he knew Leonardo well enough to assume that leaving would be the entirely wrong course of action.

Instead, he joined Leonardo on the ground and hesitantly placed a hand on his back. The prince’s weight shifted immediately, his body leaning into Favian, smaller body sinking into the taller frame.

Feeling assured in his decision, Favian began slowly rubbing circles onto Leonardo’s back, his fingers softly kneading the pressure out of the prince’s neck, his scapulas.

Leonardo’s head was on his shoulder now, nose almost brushing Favian’s chest.

Gradually, the prince’s breathing slowed down until eventually, it settled. Favian felt the heat on his collarbone through the linen of his tunic, each of Leonardo’s exhales leaving a trail of citrus and honey on him. The last time they had been this close. . .

Leonardo must have come to the same realization, because the first words he spoke again were, “You feel just like you did back then.”

Favian’s hand stilled.

“Don’t,” the prince whispered. “Please don’t stop.”

So he continued.

“Do you think about that night?” Barely giving Favian any time to react before going on, Leonardo didn’t seem to expect a response. His voice was somber despite the stress he had to be experiencing. “Because I do. I think about it all the time. I think about you all the time.”

Never had Favian been so glad that he couldn’t see the expression on another’s face. Not because he was scared of what he might see there. But because he had no idea what his own face would betray in return.

What it would confess.

“At the front, it was about surviving. We were told to forget any meaningful connections we had before, to focus only on the war. But I could never do that. I could never forget you. I could never forget that night in the attic and the way you felt under—”

“Stop,” Favian croaked.

“Why?”

The words were merely a whisper. “Because it hurts.”

This made Leonardo shift, raising his head from Favian’s shoulder. The space felt empty now, cold.

The prince’s eyes were searching him, but Favian had averted his gaze.

“Favian, look at me, please.”

After a brief moment, he did.

“Why does it hurt?”

Why, indeed?

In all those years, Favian had asked himself the same question.

What was it about the situation between him and Leonardo that made it so painful?

Why did he try so hard to avoid thinking about it, to pretend it had never happened?

What was so hurtful about the reality that no matter if the prince had not been sent to war, nothing would have come of it?

“Because it can never happen again.”

Wind rustling the trees beyond them.

An owl hooting somewhere in the distance.

Leonardo looked like Favian was holding a knife to his throat, the prince’s life in his servant’s hands. A royal heart on a silver platter, a blade in the servant’s hand. “Because you don’t want it to?”

Favian raked his fingers through his hair, pushing the ashy blonde strands back.

His hands needed something to do, something to hold on to.

“Because you’re the prince. Because we’re both men, and you’re supposed to continue your family’s lineage.

” Leonardo flinched—the knife had sunk into the tender, beating organ.

“Because I’m nothing but a servant in the house you and your parents control. ”

Leonardo stared at him. Raised his hand. Dropped it again.

They both knew what Favian had just admitted: that despite the long list of reasons nothing could ever happen between him and the prince again, a lack of desire was not one of them.

“This,” Favian eventually said, gesturing between them, “has always just been a fantasy. I thought we both knew that.”

“It was never just a fantasy for me,” Leonardo whispered. “I would have tried—I would still try; I want to make this possible.”

And that was the gist of it, wasn’t it? While the prince allowed himself to indulge in the idea of them, to show his feelings for Favian in whatever way he could, Favian knew that the risk was too high.

That indulging was futile—and yet, he had been doing it for weeks.

Had brought Leonardo to the tavern, engaged with him like they were equals, shared drinks and touches they pretended didn’t mean anything.

He had looked at Leonardo and had allowed him to witness his desire.

And yet—and yet, no matter what they did, no matter which words he spoke, the prince would always remain exactly that: the prince.

He would always remain in a position of power, Favian his subordinate, his subservient .

Leonardo must have followed the same train of thought because his next words were, “Favian, please. . .I don’t care about the position I’m in, I don’t care that you’re a servant, you know that.

” The prince’s voice was quivering now, full of desperation.

“I want us to be what we could have been had my parents not sent me away. I want to be with you.”

All those weeks ago, when they had first made the trip, Yannos had said that no matter how kind Leonardo was to him, to the other servants, he would never give up the privileges that came with his rank.

At the time, Favian had refused to engage with this reality, but now, it was exactly as blatant as it should have been the entire time: Leonardo wanted to be with him, but he had not considered what that would mean for either of them.

“You want to be with me,” Favian replied. The thoughts inside him were taking over, consuming him. “And then what? I serve you?”

Leonardo’s hands were gripping Favian’s now, squeezing. He fiercely shook his head. “You know that I don’t see it that way. I know you technically work for me, but we could try, we could think of something, we could—”

“Please stop.”

It hurt.

It hurt, it hurt, it hurt so much.

Leonardo wanted it to be so easy, but it wasn’t. It couldn’t be.

The prince closed his eyes, swallowed once. His throat was bobbing, and his chest moved unevenly, like he still had trouble breathing. Had Favian pushed him too far?

“Can you breathe properly?” Favian asked, not intending it as a distraction but welcoming the effect regardless.

“I’m fine,” Leonardo sighed. He very clearly wasn’t.

“I think we should get back quickly. You need to go to bed.”

But the prince shook his head again, clutching his hands to his chest. “I can’t yet. I don’t—I don’t know what happened to me there, I—I’m scared to be alone right now. Can we sit here a little longer?”

When Favian didn’t respond immediately, he added, “We don’t have to talk about this anymore.”

So Favian reluctantly accepted the request but pointed towards the woods. “Maybe we should move out of sight, just in case that person is still out here or anybody else passes by.”

Luckily, Leonardo agreed without argument, and so they relocated into the trees, tied the horses to large branches, and positioned themselves against a trunk, Favian to Leonardo’s left. The uneven floor was damp underneath them, grass and moss smushing against their trousers.

He could tell Leonardo wanted to talk, that he was not comfortable in the silence that Favian welcomed. At the same time, there was no way Favian was talking about the situation between them anytime soon again, not if he could help it.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” he asked instead.

Leonardo turned his head. “About what?”

“About the war. When you told me about it before, you only mentioned the people and the food.”

Gazing into the lush greenery of the forest, the prince pulled his knees up to his chest and slung his arms around them.

His voice was distant when he spoke. “I don’t like to talk about the stuff I saw there.

It wasn’t fun. I saw things I wish I had never witnessed.

I. . .I had to hurt people. I hated it, all of it. ”

Favian tried to rack his brain for a response, wanting to affirm Leonardo’s experiences without discrediting the pain they so clearly caused him.

He came up against the reality that no matter how hard he tried, reassuring words would never be one of his strengths, not even when it would alleviate the awkwardness his silence often brought.

“I tried to negotiate, once,” Leonardo continued after a moment of silence.

“I never understood why battle was supposed to be the only way to solve my father’s issues with other kingdoms. But when I tried to make it to their palace, they shot me.

” His hand went to the front of his shoulder, to the spot where Favian had noticed a round scar underneath his collarbone.

“It took months to heal, but I still got off a lot easier than most of the others. I didn’t think I’d have to hear another one of those mechanical weapons fired for a while.

That sound. . .Sometimes I dream about it and wake up soaked in sweat. ”

The prince lay his head to the side, then, cheek resting on top of his knees, eyes closed. “I just wanted it to end.”

Through Leonardo’s thick lashes, Favian noticed the pupils moving underneath, proving the prince’s calmness to be deceptive.

“You made it back,” was all Favian could think to say.

A faint curl in the corner of Leonardo’s mouth, but no reply.

Silence stretched between them, only interrupted by noises of nature, and Favian leaned the back of his head against the tree behind him, the uneven bark pressing against his skull.

Just when he decided enough time had passed that Leonardo should be stable enough to finish their journey back, he thought he noticed a faint snoring sound beside him.

A closer look at the prince supported his assessment: Leonardo had fallen asleep, right here, head slumped over his legs, a few minutes off the road that would lead them back to the reality of their lives and a relationship that had surely gotten strained after the events tonight.

They should go back.

If Leonardo was calm enough to fall asleep, he should be collected enough to return to the palace, to sleep in his own bed.

Favian should wake him.

He didn’t.