Page 49 of A Gaze So Longing (The Fall of Livenza #1)

The day passed, but Favian did not process much of it.

He remembered Leonardo in his bed, the prince in his hand, himself in the prince’s mouth.

He remembered the after, the hands on each other’s faces, the soft touches, the closeness.

The silent tears they had shed, the wordless exchange of sorrow.

He couldn’t remember ever having been more grateful for his sister’s scheming.

When the time came, he returned to their chamber, intending to thank her.

Instead, he was once more confronted with the tailcoats intended to present them as so much more than they were, one already snug on Nia’s body.

She eyed the second set with her hands on her hips and motioned for him to put it on.

He was almost late, he knew, and decided to postpone the conversation.

“You ready?” Nia asked when both of them had changed. She was arranging the collar on Favian’s shirt, the white so stark he would never have worn it for any other occasion. It was not the kind of clothing to get your hands dirty in.

“No,” Favian admitted.

His sister sighed. “Me either. And I’m genuinely worried Leonardo is going to implode at some point tonight. I think he’s scared.”

“He is. I am, too.”

She took a step back, studying him. “I don’t think I’ve heard you admit that to me.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you worry—”

“Favian,” she interrupted him, “that wasn’t a complaint.

I’m happy you’re being more open with me.

I always tried to respect that you’re not really good at talking about your emotions, but sometimes it can get tiring trying to infer everything myself.

It’s so much easier for me to respond to your needs when I know what you’re feeling instead of acting based on my interpretations. ”

For perhaps the first time, Favian saw the labor he had placed upon his sister by trying to protect her from having to take care of him.

A week ago, she had told him that she did not sleep until he returned to their room.

She had told him that she wanted him to be happy, to do things for himself, if only he talked to her about it.

For years, he had been sure that he was protecting her. And that was precisely what he had been doing.

His mistake had been to believe that she wasn’t protecting him in return.

For weeks, she had given up on sleep for him. For years, she, too, had worried.

Without so much as a word, Favian embraced his sister.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “I’m trying.”

“I know,” she replied, hugging him close before letting go again. “And while I really appreciate the hug, I’m afraid we really need to get going.”

On her way out the door, she added, “But please feel free to do it again. And maybe give Leonardo a hug, too, I think he needs it as much as you.”

Dinha looked exactly as stunning as she had the first time Favian had seen her.

The red of her dress was deep, scarlet skirts flowing around her hips down to the floor, golden jewelry adorning her neck, and thick twists falling over her shoulders.

The colors would perfectly match Leonardo’s crown, Favian realized with a sting.

In an eerie repetition of the previous ball, the caller had announced each kingdom and each princess as they entered the grand hall, and each of them had curtseyed in front of Leonardo atop his throne, the prince trying his hardest not to let the anticipation of the planned conversation with Dinha show on his face.

Once more, Dinha and her mothers were last, a choice that could only be deliberate. Still, it did not diminish any of their confidence; the three women strode into the hall as if they owned it. Dinha smirked at the Prince of Livenza, and he smiled back.

In his anxiety, Favian almost overlooked the presence of the advisory council.

None of them were officially introduced, yet all six members were present and appeared to be entertaining themselves.

Dressed as opulently as he would have expected, the Ladies Melero and Sabina were laughing with Lord Casella while the other three councilmen began mingling among the royal guests once the official greetings were concluded.

At least some of them, Favian suspected, would have their eyes keenly on Leonardo tonight.

When the dancing began, the prince did not approach Dinha right away. He sought out several other girls and women first, inviting them to the dance floor with his typical charm, his movements as easy as they could be under the circumstances.

Favian followed the interactions as meticulously as he could from his place at the banquet, the metal pitcher cold under his fingertips.

Never before had he considered this to be something he wanted to do, yet he found himself wondering if he would ever get to dance with Leonardo.

The prince’s always elegant movements were heightened in the swift motions to the tune of lute and recorder, his feet gliding over the marble tiles as if they never did anything else.

Favian imagined his arm around the prince’s waist, Leonardo’s palm on his own, a bright smile directed at him as they whirled each other across the floor.

Favian had to remind himself he was working, to focus on the wine in his hands, so as not to get lost in Leonardo’s body swaying to the music.

The prince would take a step, one hand on the waist of his current dancing partner, and while spinning her around, his eyes would search the room, only stopping when they landed on Dinha. The third time it happened, the glint in her eyes let Favian know she understood.

Instead of the many ways Favian had anticipated her reacting, however, she weaved through the crowd until she came to a stop in front of him, holding out her cup for him to fill.

“Hello again,” she offered. Her tone was conspiratorial. “Tell me, why is your prince making pretty eyes at me?”

Stunned, Favian almost let her cup overflow, catching himself in the last moment. He stared at the wine, shining right beneath the edge of the golden cup.

“Your Highness, I apologize.”

Dinha huffed and lowered her head, slurping the red liquid until it was no longer at risk of spilling. Wiping her mouth with her sleeve, she looked at him.

“Don’t worry about it. So, what is going on with Leonardo?”

“I don’t—”

“Please, I saw you last time, remember?”

She had, indeed, been there when Rodrigo had revealed the truth that had confined Favian to a state of depression.

Which meant that not only did Dinha know about the extent of His Majesty’s cruelty, she had also witnessed what this revelation had done to Leonardo and Favian, and that the prince had followed him after.

She knew that their relationship wasn’t strictly what one would expect from a servant and his superior.

Though, based on what Rodrigo had told them, that in itself should not have been particularly outrageous for her.

It did, however, mean that there was no use pretending. There was always a chance His Majesty might be looking at him, but Favian was out of earshot. As long as he looked the part, King Amondo had no reason to suspect that anything about his conversation with Dinha was inappropriate.

“I don’t,” Favian tried again, choosing a different course than he had originally intended while keeping his voice low, “think it is my place to tell Your Highness about Prince Leonardo’s intentions.”

She looked at him, then. He could feel her gaze roaming over his body, settling on his face. “Hmm,” she hummed. “I see. I suppose it’s up to me to find out, then?”

He gave the slightest hint of a nod, repeating what was so ingrained in his bones. “Your Highness.”

It was written on her face that she wanted to say something else, that her questions were far from answered, but she restrained herself, nodded to him in return, and then made her way back to the floor.

Favian saw her press her cup into one of her mother’s hands and whisper a few words before she confidently strode toward Leonardo, who was in the middle of a conversation with a girl far too young to be considered of marriageable age.

Dinha tapped the young princess’s shoulder and said something that sent the girl’s jaw to the floor.

The Princess of Abijata then reached for Leonardo’s arm and pulled the Prince of Livenza onto the dance floor, her hands on his shoulders.

Favian knew Leonardo wanted to look at him; he could feel the prince’s agitation across the hall. He, too, wished he could catch the prince’s eye, desperate for a wordless exchange.

After a few minutes of this, Leonardo whispered something into Dinha’s ear, prompting a grin so wide she might as well have yelled vindication . She nodded.

The Prince of Livenza took the Princess of Abijata’s hand, and the two disappeared from the hall, all eyes on them.

King Amondo followed the move with eyebrows knitted as tight as the stiffness in Favian’s every limb.