Page 27 of A Gaze So Longing (The Fall of Livenza #1)

“Gods, I’m so hungry.”

Nia was sitting cross-legged on her bed, half leaning onto Rodrigo behind her. One of his arms was slung around her waist, her fingers dancing circles across his brown skin.

“It should be our turn tonight,” Rodrigo affirmed. Despite Favian’s presence on the other bed, he nuzzled her hair, unashamed of his affection. “Only one more meal. The rotation is working as well as it could be.”

This had become a habit in the recent weeks: whenever they all had a moment of peace, they would congregate in Favian and Nia’s room, assessing the current state of Leonardo’s endeavor to change the palace, even if they only had a handful of minutes to do so.

Rodrigo and Nia no longer needed to hide their feelings for each other in this setting; the freedom to be authentically in love was doing wonders for her.

“I think it’s time to take the next steps.”

“What do you suppose those are?” Favian asked, dreading the reply.

Rodrigo caught his gaze. “We can’t sit around waiting to see if the advisors or the king himself are eventually going to react to Leonardo’s meals after all. It can’t begin and end with them. You know exactly how much more needs changing here.”

“I do,” Favian sighed, “but I am still unsure which path to take to get there. I don’t understand why you won’t share the extent of your ideas.”

Instead of a response, he got only silence.

They have had this conversation before; they have had it almost every single day.

The meals Leonardo had established separate from his parents had not resulted in any retribution from his father, at least none that Favian was aware of.

Despite the anxiety induced by the conversation in the hallway, the council’s official stance, too, remained neutral.

To all of their surprise, Leonardo kept reporting that the topic barely came up in the meetings at all.

While the prince took this as a sign of approval, Favian, Nia, and Rodrigo believed it had to mean that these conversations were simply taking place in settings Leonardo was not invited to.

Nia insisted that Favian should share the conversation they had overheard with Leonardo, but Rodrigo agreed with Favian that this was information better kept between them.

Neither of them knew exactly what the conversations between the prince, the king, and the council were like, but Favian did know that His Majesty had called for neither him nor his sister since Leonardo’s return.

It was a feeling Favian wanted to relish, the lack of unwanted hands on him.

Yet, allowing this reality to settle would make it all the harder to return to his previous existence were Leonardo’s pursuits to fail after all.

Favian allowed himself only a little dose of hope each day, particularly on each third day when it was his turn to take one of three meals alongside Leonardo and Nia.

The weeks of relative calm had convinced Favian to resume the visits to the tavern—really, it was Nia who had convinced him.

Every once in a while, she would ask to spend some time with Rodrigo alone, hinting that this would be a good time for Favian to leave the premises.

As long as Rodrigo was by her side, Favian felt confident enough in her safety to take the trip, but the visits to The Moonlit Sunflower were both shorter and more tense than they used to be.

Favian was never able to relax much, and he could tell Leonardo missed their more carefree, longer nights.

Nevertheless, the prince never complained, making the trips as enjoyable as he could.

He still got a smile out of Favian every once in a while, had maintained the flirting that appeared to be ingrained in his nature, and indulged in conversations with as many people as he could whenever they made the journey.

What he no longer did was touch Favian. Leonardo’s fingers no longer brushed against his arms, his legs, his back.

It was both comforting and infuriating.

“The majesties will be holding a ball,” Rodrigo said eventually, evading Favian’s implicit question. “It will be held in two weeks, and they have invited daughters from several kingdoms. I suspect they want Leonardo to find his future wife.”

Shivers on Favian’s back, goosebumps on his arms.

Future wife.

There was no way Leonardo wanted that—

Was there?

The look Rodrigo shot him was way too knowing. It was as if the boy knew exactly how desperately Favian longed for the prince’s touch, thoughts, heart.

Nia frowned. “If that’s the case, why haven’t they declared it yet? Have they called either of you to the throne room for an official announcement?” she asked, and met shaking heads. “If it’s in two weeks, we should have started preparing days ago.”

“I suppose that’s the point,” Favian sighed.

“Exactly,” Rodrigo nodded. “Ask Leonardo about it, maybe he knows more.”

Favian shook his head. “He would have told me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Favian did not blame Rodrigo for his mistrust of Leonardo, but he was growing tired of the boy’s mistrust of him .

Never able to stand the tension between them, Nia chipped in, “I also think he would have told Favian if he knew. I wouldn’t be surprised if the king has intentionally kept it a secret even from the council.”

“Where did you hear about this, anyway?” Favian asked Rodrigo.

“I have my connections,” was all he offered. It felt like a conspiracy, and one Favian didn’t know what to make of.

“I think you should tell him about me,” Nia suddenly said.

Puzzled by the change in topic, both Favian and Rodrigo turned their attention to her.

“His reaction will be revealing,” she continued. “I think it will help us identify how trustworthy he actually is.”

Rodrigo intercepted, “I don’t understand the point. We’re not fighting for our rights to be authentically ourselves here.”

“Are we not?” Nia countered, freeing herself from his grip and turning to face him.

They were having a different conversation now, one Favian had no intention of being a part of. “I am leaving,” he said, and exited the room without waiting for a response.

He had a few minutes left before he was expected in the kitchens, so he wandered the hallways. His fingers touched the bright beige stone of the palace walls. The rock was cold under his fingers.

In the hallway, Favian ran into Lelia and asked about her day.

He checked in with her before every meal now.

They talked about the current state of the palace and the majesties’ dispositions each day, sometimes about her health or Leonardo’s meals.

Lelia was now regularly eating with the prince, too, and Favian got the impression that she was quite enjoying the time.

All of them were significantly less eager to return to the grander halls after their respective meal times with the prince, and they particularly needed these talks to update the other when one of them had been absent from the prior meal.

They were always careful, but some days required a special layer of subservience.

After the first two meals shared with Leonardo, Lelia had told Favian that the prince had originally asked her to join them instead of Eleni, but she had refused, worried about the mistakes that might be made by servants entirely inexperienced with the majesties’ preferences.

She hadn’t known that eventually, she, too, would get to eat with Leonardo, and yet, she had been willing to remain at the duty that was undoubtedly the worse of the two options.

As he had come to suspect, much like Favian, it seemed, she felt a personal responsibility for her peers.

Favian would have been proud of her had he not been so worried.

Today, Her Majesty found a bone in her cod. She picked it out, put aside her fork, and pinched it between the tips of her index finger and her thumb. She called upon Lelia and held the fish bone up in front of her maid’s face.

“What is this?” Queen Irmina asked in a voice so flat it might as well not have belonged to a human being at all.

“A fish bone, Your Majesty,” Lelia replied.

A slow nod from the queen, like she was still deliberating a choice she had so clearly already made.

“I could have choked on this.” Where her husband’s words were icy—piercing and uncannily cold—Queen Irmina sounded like she was cutting through flesh with her teeth.

If Lelia was shocked to hear Her Majesty’s voice, she did not show it. The maid apologized profoundly, offering to bring a new dish, but to no avail.

Favian watched in horror as the queen brought the bone to Lelia’s lips and told her to swallow.

He watched in deference as the maid did.

Favian couldn’t remember the last time he had seen Queen Irmina show any sort of emotion. He wasn’t sure if he had ever heard her speak words beyond those required for Lelia to plate her food, for her maids to have her dressed, bathed, entertained.

He had been under the impression that while she had never come to any of her servants’ aids, she was also not as sadistic as her husband.

Watching Lelia gulp down the fish bone shattered the illusion.

Her Majesty watched her maid, the queen’s eyes following the bob in Lelia’s throat. The maid suppressed a cough, but she came out unscathed—at least as far as Favian could tell.

Queen Irmina held out the two fingers that had gripped the bone, and without needing to be told, Lelia cleaned them off before returning to her usual post.

Favian was certain the queen had chosen a meal later in the week to reveal this side of herself. No advisors to justify her behavior to, no Leonardo to tell them about it.

Nobody to hold her accountable for her actions.

When the meal was finished, Favian intended to check on Lelia, but she quickly shut herself into the nearest washroom. Heaving and belching sounds echoed down the corridor.