Page 26 of A Gaze So Longing (The Fall of Livenza #1)

Favian and Rodrigo needed to get themselves at least somewhat clean before lunch. It wasn’t the first time the two were sharing the communal washrooms, but the air was particularly thick after their earlier discussion.

Favian finished his wash quickly and, realizing Nia was not in their chamber, made for the central servants’ quarters.

The large room was too loud for him, always bustling with those of his peers who were able to take a break, however small, and he had to allow himself a moment to breathe before walking through the open doorway.

When Favian entered and scanned the surprisingly empty room in search of his sister, two people at one corner of the large table stood out to him; Nia was kneeling in front of a person slumped over their knees —Lelia.

As he moved closer, Favian noticed the strain on her face, one arm slung around her stomach, her other hand in Nia’s.

When she noticed him, Nia got up and took him aside.

“She’s in pain,” she explained quietly.

Favian’s eyes widened. “Is she—”

But Nia interrupted him with a shaking head. “No, she’s just bleeding.”

“Oh.”

Nia eyed him.

“Is there something I can do?”

“She needs to get to lunch, but I doubt she’ll be able to —”

“I’ll do it,” Favian said without hesitation. Leonardo would miss him, surely, but there would be no reprimand for him switching places with Lelia. “I don’t think His Highness will mind. She can—”

“ She can hear you,” came Lelia’s voice, pain mixing with annoyance, and both Favian and Nico turned their heads to her. Before Favian could apologize for talking about her as if she weren’t there, she continued, “I can do it. It’ll be worse if I don’t show up.”

“Are you certain?” Favian asked.

Her nod was fiercer than anything Favian had ever seen on her. “Just make sure it’s worth it.”

Much like with Nia two days before: a moment of recognition.

Lelia understood something Favian had not told her about. Maybe Nia had talked to her. Maybe Favian had not only underestimated Rodrigo’s perceptiveness at first, but Lelia’s as well.

Maybe, just maybe, they truly were planting the early seeds of resistance.

On their way to the smaller dining hall, around a corner in the corridor, Favian and Nia came across a group of voices they identified as the advisors.

Favian kept walking, head already bowed and words of respectful greetings on his lips, but Nia held him back by the sleeve of his tunic, brought a finger to her mouth, and motioned for him to join her close to the corner, pressed against the beige brick wall right underneath a portrait of Her Majesty.

Favian shook his head and was about to object when he heard a familiar name being used.

“—Prince Leonardo has made? Inviting a bunch of his servants to a private meal?”

He only vaguely recognized the voice; it must belong to one of the advisors he was less familiar with.

“What a silly idea, don’t you think?” This was Lady Melero. “Being kind to your subordinates is one thing, but this…”

A laugh, simultaneously amused and vile, that Favian easily identified as Lord Casella’s. “He has always been soft, our prince. Never wanted to learn how to fight, either.”

Nia shot Favian a look, but he kept his face blank except for his brows, which he couldn’t stop from furrowing quickly enough. Where, a moment ago, he had not wanted to listen in on this conversation at all, he now needed to hear the rest of it.

“The staff certainly appreciates His Highness’ kindness,” Admiral Gálvez, the only advisor who lived inside the palace and was not of noble blood, pointed out. Favian felt his heartbeat slowing down a little, some of the pressure he hadn’t realized was building inside him ebbing off.

“How much does that matter, though?” asked the first male voice from before.

“Lord Ziani,” Nia whispered close to his ear, and Favian nodded in recognition.

“Precisely,” Lord Casella said. Favian heard the smirk in his voice. “He will never make a good king if he keeps focusing more on wearing those ridiculous dainty frills and making friends with this staff than becoming a capable ruler.”

A brief moment of silence.

Heat on Favian’s cheeks, fire in his fingertips.

“He’s still young,” Admiral Gálvez said. “And he hasn’t been back for very long yet. Give him time.”

A sigh from Lady Melero. “I suppose you’re right. Come, we can talk more about this once we have eaten.”

Shuffling feet, accompanied by lighter conversation about the meal which the advisors were about to enjoy.

Favian felt sick.

“What an ass,” Nia cursed. “He doesn’t even know Leonardo, and—”

“ Nia ,” Favian warned, not wanting her to be overheard using the prince’s name in the open hallway.

She groaned, but stopped talking.

They stood in silence for a few seconds, processing what they had just heard.

Eventually, Nia asked, “Do you think we should tell him?”

“No,” came Favian’s fast response. “Not about Lord Casella’s words. He doesn’t need to hear any of that.”

Nia searched his gaze, but Favian avoided her eyes. He could tell she wanted to object, but was holding back for his sake.

Favian rightened himself, then took the first step towards the smaller dining hall. “Come on.”

Nia flashed her teeth. “We’ll show them what a good ruler Leona—His Highness can be.”

Lunch proved Leonardo’s determination for his cause.

He had talked to the cooks this time and asked them to make significantly more of the easily prepared, less expensive dishes. Favian could scarcely imagine Giulio’s face when the prince had appeared in the kitchen; the cook’s eyes must have bulged out of his head.

Once the table was set, Leonardo motioned to the steaming vegetables and filled dough pockets taking up most of the surface.

There was no meat—filling five additional stomachs with ham or salami would have used up a significant amount of their stock—but the meal was still heaps and leagues ahead of what the servants were usually provided with.

Favian would take roasted zucchini over oats any day.

“Eat with me,” the prince said.

Nobody moved.

The same assortment of servants who had served Leonardo breakfast was now arranged around the room.

After the morning debacle, they knew what to expect from this meal, yet this did not seem to smooth the discomfort of the ordeal by much.

They were being asked to do something that went against everything they had been told for years, against rules the breaking of which usually resulted in punishments neither of them was eager to bring upon themselves.

After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Leonardo tried again.

“I understand that this is rather unconventional, but I would really like to share with you.” He looked around the room, eyes stopping on Favian for a moment too long.

“I’m not going to command you, but the table is set for six, and you’re welcome to eat until you’re stuffed.

I would enjoy your presence at the table with me. ”

Would Lord Casella laugh at them now?

At Leonardo?

At his efforts, however flawed, to provide them with at least some sort of semblance of respect and appreciation?

Favian could not look at Leonardo. The awkwardness of it all, the tension, was far too much for him to bear.

He didn’t know if the prince expected him to take the first step based on their history, but if what Amina had said was true and people in the palace were already talking about them, it could not be a good idea to corroborate the rumors.

Not to mention Lord Casella’s comment about Leonardo wanting to be friends with his servants, a remark he couldn’t help but connect to the lord’s question about his friendship with Leonardo before the first council.

Did the advisors talk about Favian?

About his relationship with Leonardo?

For a second, he was scared the prince would address him directly, at which point he would have no choice but to either relent, risking the act operating as proof of his emotional connection to the prince, or to refuse, which would likely hurt him.

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Nia interrupted Favian’s thoughts. She carefully slid onto the bench opposite the prince, making sure to keep her gaze trained on the plate before her.

Leonardo’s face lit up, his wide smile reappearing. “I asked for the garlic oil today, the peppers should be delicious!”

Confusion spread on the faces of Silias and Eleni when Leonardo began serving his own dishes first and then the others, filling each plate with a decent amount of food.

The scent wafted over to them, herbs and the promised garlic proving to Favian that he was, indeed, hungry.

Leonardo dribbled a little bit of brown sauce onto the table as he poured.

Despite his clouded mind, Favian had to suppress a chuckle at the insecurity in the prince’s motions, his hands so unused to this form of labor yet so keen to bring his plan to action that he didn’t even register the spillage.

To Favian’s surprise, Rodrigo capitulated next, arranging himself to Nia’s right.

“Your Highness,” he asked. “Forgive me for asking. Will there be consequences for us partaking in this meal?”

Leonardo shook his head. “Not if I can help it.”

Despite the continued uncertainty, the admission that not everything about this scenario was in Leonardo’s control seemed to ease some of the tension; the recognition that this was happening in a vacuum took away some of Leonardo’s power. It made him human, vulnerable.

And if the advisors’ words were to be believed, it was impossible to say where the council as a whole would stand on the issue of these meals.

Before he could overthink the decision, Favian, too, sat down at the table, and the two others followed suit. Leonardo scooted across the bench so Silias and Eleni could sit next to each other, which placed him opposite Favian.

It was no challenge to deduce what the prince was thinking, the relief apparent on his face.

Very carefully, they began to eat.

“How has everyone’s day been?” Leonardo asked suddenly. Favian almost laughed at the innocence in his voice, the absurdity of the question.

Nobody responded. Favian assumed they were trying to parse the prince’s intent behind the inquiry, worried that he intended for them to admit something they were not supposed to say aloud, much less to a royal.

“May I ask Your Highness a question?” came Rodrigo’s voice. He had barely touched his food, his arms underneath the table as if to hide them.

“Of course,” Leonardo responded, way too eager.

Rodrigo was staring at his plate, tensing his muscles. “How does Your Highness think our day has been?”

The prince put down his fork. “I mean, I can imagine that it hasn’t been too great, but I still wanted to ask. I would like to hear from you about what your life is like. I don’t want to assume.”

Low glances were exchanged across the table, glances which would not have been allowed in the great dining hall. Silias and Eleni’s dams seemed to break a little more with each irregular action by Favian, Nia, or Rodrigo.

Favian worried that the boy would continue to press, but Nia beat him to it.

“Most of our days are kind of bad, Your Highness, so our standards are pretty low. My day has been alright so far, and receiving a filling meal is great.” She sent a smile in Leonardo’s direction without raising her eyes. “Thank you.”

“Sure,” Rodrigo chimed in, growing braver with every word, “but what about everyone else who doesn’t get to eat like this? And the cooks who have more work now? Especially on council days like these? Has Your Highness considered those people?”

A dull ache in his stomach was making itself known inside Favian, one he by now understood to translate to worry .

He knew Leonardo would not hurt Rodrigo, would not punish him for speaking out of line, but the prince was so eager to make this work and would receive pushback regardless.

Favian was troubled that the chastisement from those the prince aimed to help might dissuade him from continuing this experiment.

Rodrigo was right, of course, but they were walking a line so thin Favian was worried they were going to slip from it entirely.

Luckily, his concerns were not corroborated.

“You’re right,” Leonardo said, fingers drumming on the table.

“I should make sure the cooks either have more time or more hands to help prepare our meals. And rotate whom I call for so everyone gets to partake in these meals every so often. It wouldn’t be particularly communal if it were only the six of us here every day, would it? ”

Or you could make sure we are satiated without being so lucky as to be invited to dine with the prince.

Despite the unexpectedly skeptical voice inside Favian’s own mind, this seemed to satisfy Rodrigo enough to return to his plate. Still, he ate least of all.

The rest of the meal was held in silence, the air dense.

When they were finished, Leonardo tried to help them carry the dirty dishes to the kitchens, but Nia, Silias, and Eleni insisted on doing it for him.

The dismay of being seen with the prince carrying his own dishes was a concept even more foreign to them than the idea of sharing a meal with him.

Not to mention the possible consequences.

So Leonardo relented, his disappointment clear as day, and watched them walk away, watched them return to the normalcy of their lives in the palace.

Favian was the last to leave, though hesitant to stay. He contemplated sharing some of what he had overheard, but couldn’t bring himself to add another layer of criticism to the prince’s already delicate attempt.

“Small steps,” was all he said before exiting.

The twitch in the corner of Leonardo’s mouth was all he needed to know he had said the right thing.