Page 36 of A Gaze So Longing (The Fall of Livenza #1)

Favian was running.

Running down the corridor. Past the kitchens. Past the dining hall.

He didn’t know where, except away. Away, away, away.

Footsteps behind him. Voices.

“Favian!”

Leonardo.

Again, “Favian!”

Nia.

Another voice.

“Give him space.”

Rodrigo.

Running, still.

No consideration, only movement.

There was a ball.

He had to serve.

Serve, serve, serve.

He was back in the throne room.

Had it been ten minutes? More?

“Your Majesty.” He was on his knees. “I found His Highness and my sibling. They will return soon.”

Would they?

The tip of a polished shoe shoved his knee.

“Go back to your post.”

The pitcher was in his hands again.

The night passed.

Leonardo and Nia returned.

He didn’t look.

Dinha did, too. She did not try to talk to him again.

He stayed late, took on every single responsibility. Fulfilled every single task. Risked the entirety of the king’s wrath were he to make even the slightest mistake.

He didn’t.

He never did.

He returned to his quarters.

Nia was waiting for him, wide awake.

He recognized her presence, but he didn’t see her.

“Favian, I’m so sorry. Please, believe me, I didn’t mean to—I just—It just happened, I didn’t think he would make the connection, please—”

He heard her, but he didn’t listen.

Her words were distant, underwater.

He got changed. Slipped under the covers. Breathed.

Barely registered that Nia was still talking.

Breathed.

Slept, eventually.

Dreamed of black, endless and all-consuming.

Nia was gone when Favian awoke. He had missed breakfast preparations; he immediately knew. The room was too bright, light drilling right into his aching skull.

He got dressed as quickly as his throbbing head would allow, thanking the Gods that he was on Leonardo’s breakfast duty today. He could still join them, certain there would be no repercussions for his delay.

He went to the stables instead and buried himself in work.

Azure kept huffing at him, but he ignored her until it was no longer an option.

When Leonardo appeared, Favian had just finished saddling her.

He tied her reins around a fixture at the door and turned away.

“Favian.” Leonardo’s voice was foreign. “I’m so, so sorry. What can I do to make it better? What do you need from me?”

Favian didn’t reply; he didn’t even acknowledge the prince’s words.

“Talk to me, please. I’ve spoken to Nia and Rodrigo. We’re worried about you. I—I apologize for never asking—maybe I should have known—I want to listen now, please,” Leonardo pleaded.

But Favian had already busied himself with another task, scratchy rag in hand, his back turned to the prince.

“I won’t pressure you. If you need time, that’s alright. I’ll be here when you’re ready, alright? And I’ll make my father’s life miserable, I will—”

Favian stilled.

“Would you rather I didn’t bring him up in your presence?” Leonardo asked, all concern and pity .

Favian returned to polishing bridles.

He heard Leonardo sigh. “Alright. Just so you know, Rodrigo has been sent to town today and won’t be joining you until after lunch. I’ll take Azure out now, but I’ll be back soon.”

He did.

He was.

It didn’t matter.

Favian didn’t speak.

Over the following days, the only words that left his mouth were those the absence of which would have resulted in reprimand.

Nia tried every day. Every night they went to bed, every morning they awoke, her words growing increasingly dire, growing desperate.

Leonardo tried, every meal they shared, every time he came by the stables, every opportunity he could find to seek him out.

Rodrigo tried, his apology sincere.

It didn’t matter.

Numbness had taken over, and it wouldn’t leave even an inch of space.

“There will be a trial today,” Nia said one morning. “Or something like it. Leonardo has requested that every single person available appear at the court suite after dinner.”

Favian nodded, not looking at his sister as he acknowledged her words.

He did not think about it for the rest of the day, his mind wandering into depths that had become familiar by now, the darkness intimate.

His body was moving, but his mind was still.

Favian no longer knew if he lived at all.

He existed.

He survived.

Once dinner passed, Nia and Rodrigo dragged him north through cold palace hallways.

Had it been up to him, Favian would not have gone. Leonardo would not punish his absence. Few things he was confident in anymore, yet this was one of them.

But they had insisted, and relenting was easier than arguing.

So here they were, among their peers, crowded in a room not used to holding dozens of people, people none of whom knew why they had been called here.

They knew it was Leonardo’s doing, though, and throughout the meals they had all shared with him by now, the servants likely trusted that they hadn’t been asked here to be punished.

Still, the trials usually held in this room were conducted behind closed doors, and frequently, once a servant was called to the court suite, they would not return to their previous life.

They were right to wonder, to worry.

With a loud sound, the doors behind them were pushed wide open, and a well-dressed prince strode in, golden crown in hand, fingers tight around it.

Leonardo made his way to the judge’s bench.

He didn’t take a seat, instead arranging the crown in the center of the podium before him, placing the palms of his hands on either side.

His hair was tied into a high ponytail, his face free of the loose strands that so frequently danced on it.

Another pearl necklace dangled on his chest.

The crownless prince took a moment to scan the crowd, his face lighting up when he spotted Favian.

Leonardo cleared his throat. It was unnecessary; all attention was already on him. Then the prince opened his mouth, and the words made Favian doubt his wakefulness.

“By the power vested in me as Prince of Livenza,” Leonardo’s voice rang across the hall, “I have decided to pardon every single prisoner held on the basis of stealing food for themselves or their family. Henceforth, nobody shall be punished for not wanting to go hungry. I decree that those who have been wrongfully imprisoned for the sheer offense of feeding themselves or their family shall be released right away.”

Gasps echoed around the room.

Favian was not asleep, was not dreaming. He was wide-awake.

Nia whispered, “Can he do that?” to which Rodrigo replied, “I’m pretty sure he can.”

The boy’s voice was smug, but he failed to disguise the surprise with which this announcement had taken him.

“Furthermore,” Leonardo continued from the bench. “The dungeons shall no longer be used as a form of punishment for those who make mistakes in the process of fulfilling their duties.”

More gasps, more whispers. Glances shared across the room.

“Lastly,” Leonardo continued once more. “I will make sure you will no longer go hungry, regardless of where you eat. Rations will be scaled up for every meal. Additionally, I have made preparations for your lunches to include a wider array of ingredients from now on. All changes will take effect immediately.”

Nia turned to Rodrigo, studying his face. “Is this why you have been in town so much recently?” she asked.

The boy nodded, eyes still fixed on Leonardo. “And why he made me his valet.” He dropped his voice for the next part. “Lots of plans are better discussed behind closed doors. I’ll tell you about it later.”

Rodrigo had taken over by Leonardo’s side, then. No longer willing to wait for Favian to come around after spending hours trying to convince him to take the action Rodrigo so clearly desired. Rodrigo had taken matters into his own hands.

And Leonardo had listened.

He had listened to Rodrigo’s ideas, and he had also listened to Favian’s concerns. He had listened when, weeks ago, Favian had yelled at him, had reproached him.

And he had taken action.

Was taking action.

Favian thought of his mother, wished she could have made the journey up to the palace for this, to hear the news first-hand.

What would His Majesty say? Did he know what Leonardo had just decreed? Would he let it stand?

What would the council think? The mental image of a shocked and disgusted Lord Casella brought Favian a feeling as close to joy as he felt capable of experiencing.

Leonardo knew this decision would have consequences for him beyond a mere verbal reprimand—it had to. He had to know.

And yet, he had made it.

And yet, he had put it into action.

Favian looked up, then, meeting eyes already searching his.

Favian’s lips parted in awe.

It did to Leonardo’s face what a full moon, previously hidden by thick clouds, did in the middle of a dark winter night.

The prince’s eyes lit up, twin suns rising. The corners of his mouth twitched upward, revealing his teeth. His cheeks dimpled. He looked like a god in this moment, all shine and radiance.

Favian had to have him.

Logically, Favian knew it was impossible, but he smelled it: the distant scent of honey, of wheat, of citrus. Despite the sea of bodies between them, the murmurs all around, the arms touching Favians’, all he saw, heard, felt, was Leonardo.

Favian looked at Leonardo the way he had that one night in the forest—eyes roaming, not masking any of his desire.

Favian slid from the hall, hoping Leonardo understood.

The corridors had never felt this long. The stone was endless, white bricks paving Favian’s way to his destination.

He didn’t think, didn’t feel, only moved.

Moved along the aisles, occasionally checking he was not being watched except by painted eyes, and reached Leonardo’s door. He let himself into the prince’s chamber without so much as a moment of hesitation.