Page 50 of A Gaze So Longing (The Fall of Livenza #1)

Favian had never been this nervous in his life. Waiting for Leonardo and Dinha to return, for the result of a conversation that might determine his future more than any single choice he had ever been able to make for himself—it was agony.

He wanted Dinha to agree. Truly, he did. But he also didn’t want to lose Leonardo again. Not after this morning. Not after these weeks, these months. Not after all the times the prince had made him smile, had made his insides feel warm.

Despite all of the sentiments that remained unspoken between them, Favian finally understood what it meant to be hopeful.

Nia had said that Leonardo made him happy, and perhaps he could, in the long run.

For now, happiness was a goal far too ambitious, but there was no denying that in the brief moments he and Leonardo shared behind closed doors, falling asleep with Leonardo in his arms, Leonardo coming apart in his hands, he had been almost content .

Before Leonardo had left Favian’s chamber in the morning, not yet knowing how the evening would play out, they hadn’t kissed.

Leonardo had simply rested his forehead against Favian’s, taken the taller one’s face in his hands, and breathed .

Their eyes had been closed, and when Favian had opened his, he had seen the shimmer of tears underneath Leonardo’s lashes. The prince didn’t want to do this.

Even if they avoided saying it out loud once more, they both knew there was a chance they might never see each other again.

If their plan were to be successful, they would eventually reunite, but this was far from certain.

And Favian had spent more than enough years separated from the person who captivated him more than anything or anyone had ever managed to before.

Favian had wiped the tears from Leonardo’s face and pressed a kiss to each of the prince’s cheeks.

Now, he wished he had slung his arms around him and pulled him tight once more.

The energy in the room had shifted. Rather than the excitement of ambitious girls trying to catch the prince’s attention, eager parents attempting to marry their daughters into a wealthy, prosperous kingdom, an unease had taken hold of the hall.

Instead of announcing to the room and its guests that he would return soon, Leonardo had simply disappeared with one of the contenders for his hand, leaving the rest of them to either assume that he had already made a decision or that he was taking part in indecent activities while they were left waiting for him to return. Perhaps both.

Only Favian and Nia knew that Leonardo had, indeed, taken Dinha to his chambers, but instead of making moves to bed her, he had led her to Rodrigo, and the two of them should be laying out their plan at this very moment.

When it became clear that Leonardo and Dinha would not be returning anytime soon, Lord Casella manifested next to His Majesty’s throne.

There was no way for Favian to figure out if they were talking, and if yes, about what, without raising his head.

Keeping his hands still was already turning out to be a challenge, and this only aided in Favian’s anxiety.

It heightened even more when he spotted two other council members, Lady Melero and Lord Ziani, leaving the hall through a servant door in the back.

He wondered if anyone else had noticed the movement, if the servants who normally used the hallways were in danger.

Keeping his head down while his heart threatened to burst inside his chest, Favian poured cup after cup, every once in a while catching Nia’s eyes across the hall, the two of them sharing in their anticipation.

Nia, too, knew what a success of their proposal would mean for Favian, and even though he had assured her that he was willing to accept the consequences if it meant the betterment of their lives and the lives of their kin in the long run, she was still acutely aware of the pain it would cause him.

It had been her by his side when Leonardo was sent to war, after all.

Nobody understood his aching heart as well as she did.

Losing the prince again would be a kind of pain he wasn’t attuned to.

Compared to everything he had endured in the years between, it was new, unfamiliar, strange.

It was frightening. The loss wouldn’t hurt more than anything else Favian had experienced up to this point, presumably, but it would be different.

The pain of loss was so violently unlike the pain of hands on him, of bruises on his body, of the exhaustion of days spent working without break, of words intended to insult him, of the ache in his stomach.

The pain he had been made to endure for years was present .

Loss, however, meant suffering by absence.

It would, Favian was certain, mean an all-encompassing return of the emptiness, ever-stretching out its tendrils, just waiting to take over.

When he could no longer bear the spirals his mind kept sending him down, Favian decided to take a gamble.

At the last ball, His Majesty had sent him to retrieve Leonardo and Nia, certainly in an attempt to inspect his loyalties, and Favian had not disappointed him.

Despite the disastrous turn of events that night, Leonardo and Nia had returned to the hall after him, followed by Dinha.

Favian had done what His Majesty had commanded him to.

Favian set down the pitcher and approached the central throne, dropping onto his knees beneath His Majesty. He would grovel if he had to do.

“Your Majesty, may I speak?”

“You already are, scum,” the king taunted, but Favian could tell there was something in his voice, an inflection he did not hear often from His Majesty. Curiosity? Surprise?

Favian knew he should not continue, that he was risking a recurrence of the violence he no longer missed, but the words came regardless.

The insult rolled off him like water off a duck’s back.

“I am certain Your Majesty witnessed His Highness leaving the event with the Princess of Abijata. In spite of the truce with Abijata, I worry for His Highness’ safety left alone with a former enemy. ”

They had not talked about this enough, Favian realized—about the implications of a courtship between formerly hostile parties.

He had tried to, but it had been too late.

He had to admit to himself that bringing it up on the previous evening had not been his best idea, but there was no changing it now.

It had been Rodrigo’s idea to use the relationship between Livenza and Abijata to their advantage if they could, though Favian suspected the boy would not have suggested this specific usage of the argument.

No matter the king’s personal disapproval of Favian in Leonardo’s life, the case for his physical safety and thus, the security of the royal bloodline, would be enough to convince His Majesty to take Favian’s objection seriously.

It should be enough.

King Amondo was silent for a moment. He moved his head in what Favian read as a scan of the room, perhaps a silent exchange with his wife or one of the advisors, before he spoke again.

“Favian.”

He froze. Favian could not recall the deep, rumbling voice ever having spoken his name before. Scum, imbecile, waste, dimwit—these were the names His Majesty called him. Never Favian . He would not even have bet that the man knew his name at all.

“Our son, indeed, appears to have vanished from yet another event.”

The pointed tips of His Majesty’s blue shoes came into Favian’s field of vision. King Amondo had gotten up and was now standing right in front of him.

“Though this time, it appears that your brother has not left with him.”

A nail under his chin. His head raised by the pressure of a single finger. Icy blue eyes on his.

It was a threat that did not need to be spoken.

Favian should have remained quiet.

King Amondo pushed Favian away with the back of his fingers and bared his teeth. “Go fetch my son, then.”

His Majesty was giving him what he had asked for, the opportunity to leave the hall, to seek Leonardo—and in doing so, he would be leaving Nia by herself.

There was no way out, now.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Seeking Nia’s eyes, Favian wound his way along the wall of the hall, but she was occupied with numerous guests.

She didn’t seem to notice him moving away from his post at all.

Internally, Favian cursed himself as he slipped through the gates and took hectic strides to Leonardo’s room.

He made an effort not to upset his foot too much by running, but the urgency he felt overrode the pain in his limb.

He knocked on the prince’s door, accompanied by a proclamation of his presence.

Leonardo let him in almost right away, eyes vast, brows knitted in concern. “What are you doing here? Did something happen?”

“You were gone too long,” Favian told him in a shaky voice. “Your father has a plan, but I don’t know what it is. We need to go back.”

Curses sounded from the bed. A frustrated Rodrigo got up and began pacing around the room. “Have you made a decision yet?” he asked Dinha, who was sitting on the corner of Leonardo’s mattress, elbows on her knees.

Two crowns lay on the bed behind her, carelessly strewn aside.

“I think you ought to give me a little more time to make a decision that would upheave my entire future,” she retorted.

Rodrigo snarled, “We don’t have more time! If Leonardo had picked you without this explanation, you wouldn’t have had more time, either!”

“I wouldn’t have had to think about this choice at all if you hadn’t decided to make me a part of your plan!

” she shot back. She looked at Favian, who was frozen in place, unable to voice the panic that had been swelling inside him since leaving the hall, and added, “I never intended to marry a man. I take after my mothers. I’ve only attended these balls because they were worried we would risk another war if we didn’t at least show our faces here. Diplomacy, you know?”