The Artist’s Masquerade Page 11

  So he’d poured out his story to the young prince, and now Flavian was following him through a maze of palace corridors that Flavian had never seen before. Far from the guest wing where he slept and the areas he had seen, these corridors appeared to wind through more private areas of the palace.

  “Where are we going, Your Highness?” That question was rude, especially after Prince Amory’s kindness, but Flavian could only take so much, and the last day had been almost too much for him.

  “We’re going to talk to my husband.”

  Flavian stumbled at those words but righted himself without tripping over his gown too badly. He didn’t tear the hem, anyway. “We’re going to see Prince Philip?” He looked around as he caught up to Prince Amory. “Why? Where?”

  “Because if Cathal hasn’t told him about you, he needs to know. It won’t do for him to find out later. Far more suspicious.” Prince Amory glanced at Flavian, and his lips quirked into a half smile. “Not that it’s easy to figure out just looking at you.”

  Flavian swallowed back a sour retort. “So I’ve been told. But you’re not suspicious, Your Highness?”

  Prince Amory shrugged. “I should be, but Cathal must have been satisfied so I’ve decided to trust him. He’s generally a cautious man.”

  Still, it seemed odd for Prince Amory to trust so easily. Nothing that Flavian had seen, either in life or in his picture, pointed to the man being naive or stupid. “I would be suspicious. I could be anyone, here for any reason.”

  “You could, but I doubt you’re going to kill me out in the middle of a corridor. There are plenty of guards to prevent that anyway.”

  Well, all right, then.

  There were a lot of guards. Flavian had noticed that his first day at the palace, but even in these private areas, guards stood at attention at regular intervals along the corridors.

  Prince Amory led him down a short flight of stairs and then stopped to rap on a door. At a muffled call from within, the prince opened the door. Flavian took a quick, deep breath and followed him inside. He stepped into some sort of practice room—utilitarian but well equipped. Plain walls and a smooth wood floor with benches, cabinets, weapons racks, and a mirror along one wall, and Prince Philip and Cathal standing from their seats.

  And, well. Prince Philip was shirtless, the surprisingly defined muscles of his chest glistening with sweat. Flavian now knew that Prince Amory was a lucky man. Cathal stepped up next to his cousin, drawing Flavian’s attention. Cathal wore a shirt, but sweat soaked it, turning the white material nearly transparent and molding it to strong shoulders and a muscular chest. He’d never really appreciated what sweat could do before, nor had he realized quite how fit Cathal was. Prince Philip too, but mostly he stared at Cathal. Flavian shivered. He’d had his hands on Cathal yesterday, though he’d spent part of it trying to get away so Cathal wouldn’t figure out his secret. And to keep himself from wanting Cathal.

  And there he was wanting Cathal even more.

  A bad idea all around and for so many reasons. Cathal was betrothed to Velia. And only interested in Flavian because he’d liked the look of Flavian in a dress, thought him a woman, and was attracted to that woman. Not to Flavian, so he needed to stop staring at Cathal’s chest and figure out what was going to happen next.

  He dragged his attention away, only to find Cathal staring at him. Flavian was faintly shocked to feel a blush heating his cheeks, and that would never do, so he stared back at Cathal, boldly meeting his eyes, refusing to be ashamed. And was utterly shocked to see a grin flirt with the edges of Cathal’s mouth, the spark of heat in Cathal’s eyes. That made no sense. Cathal knew Flavian was a man.

  Chapter 9

  “I’M NOT quite sure what to call you now, since I know you’re not Lady Flavia.”

  Prince Philip’s voice snapped Flavian out of his thoughts. He looked at the prince, who was closely studying Flavian in turn.

  “How long have you known?” Prince Amory stepped up next to his husband and handed him a shirt, which he took absently.

  “Cathal just told me. Is that why you came?” Prince Philip asked his husband, but his gaze still rested on Flavian.

  “Yes. Flavian told me, and I thought you should know immediately. I brought Flavian to tell you.”

  Belatedly, Flavian realized he was standing in the presence of the prince. He began to curtsy and caught himself. He hardly needed to do that with this group, not anymore. He bowed instead, but it probably looked ridiculous with him in a gown. “Your Highness.”

  “I’m surprised to see you still in your disguise, Flavian. I can call you Flavian?”

  “Certainly, Your Highness. And I can’t put off this disguise. It’s not just your knowing—it’s everyone.” He looked between the three men he stood in front of, realizing they quite clearly were ranged against him. Were they going to tell others? Were they going to send him back? His heartbeat sped up, pounding in his ears. He couldn’t be wrong about them. He’d seen in his drawing. He’d seen who they were, and his drawings never lied. Never. “Your Highness, you are the only people who know who I really am, you and Velia. And no one else can.”

  Prince Philip was staring at him still, considering, thoughtful. “I don’t think you’re in a position to tell the prince of Tournai what he can and can’t do. Especially when it affects Tournai.”

  “I fail to see how my disguising myself as a woman so I could leave Ardunn affects Tournai.” He realized his tone was too sharp when the prince raised an eyebrow. “Your Highness.”

  “Don’t you? Then perhaps I should enlighten you. Someone comes into Tournai, into the palace, under false pretenses, and proceeds to move around the palace, to get close to members of the royal family. And that person is from Ardunn, an empire voraciously devouring any and all land it can, with no regard for the people living in those lands.” Prince Philip’s stare was level, calm, his voice whip-sharp and commanding. “Now can you see how I might be concerned to find such a person in my palace?”

  Yes, he could now that he thought about it—made himself think about it as he forced himself not to be intimidated by the much more forceful version of Prince Philip he was faced with. The prince had been nothing but welcoming, but that didn’t mean the prince was all sweetness and light. He was the ruler of a small prosperous country; Prince Philip needed his strength and the confidence to use it.

  It was also attractive. Flavian cut that thought off before it could take root. Lusting after a married prince would be even worse than lusting after Cathal.

  With the thought of Cathal, Flavian glanced at the man who still stood at Prince Philip’s side. Cathal looked as if he wanted to say something but was holding himself back out of deference to his cousin. But what did he want to say? Would he have defended Flavian given the chance or would he have thrown his weight behind his cousin’s suspicions?

  It didn’t matter—it couldn’t matter.

  Flavian looked back at Prince Philip, who still stared at him and had certainly noticed his glance at Cathal. Flavian needed to smooth over the annoyance his smart mouth caused. He didn’t want to find himself locked up or on a boat back to Ardunn, and he wasn’t naive enough to think Prince Philip wouldn’t do it if he had reason. “I apologize, Your Highness. But I have no love for the empire. I’ve said that, under influence of a truth potion, already. The only reason I’m dressed like this is to escape it. I never had any intention of coming to the palace, Your Highness.”

  “What did you intend?” Prince Amory asked.

  “To start a new life. This ridiculous charade was Velia’s idea to get me out of Ardunn. I was supposed to be on my own by now. Instead, I’m here, still in these cursed skirts, pretending to be someone I’m not when I all I want to do is live the life I dreamed of for years. But I’m here, because of Velia’s stupid idea and because instead of staying in the city as we were supposed to, we’re staying here, and I couldn’t get away that first night the way I planned.” His voice rose as the words tumbled out
of his mouth, too many words and too sharp. He had a habit of speaking sharply, but he was trying to subdue it here, with these men who could decide his fate. “Your Highness.”

  Prince Philip kept watching him with that level gaze. “So your disguise was Lady Velia’s idea?”

  “Yes, Your Highness.”

  Prince Philip glanced at his husband, communicating some message that Flavian couldn’t decipher. “And she believed you would be staying in the city, not here at the palace?”

  “Yes, that’s what she told me.” Flavian had no idea what to make of the look that Prince Philip cast at Cathal this time, so he ignored it. “I just want to live my life—quietly, here in Tournai. I don’t want to be at the palace.” And wasn’t that a lie? A part of him rebelled at the thought of leaving because Cathal was there. But that couldn’t matter. “Will you let me leave?”

  “I’m afraid I can’t do that, not yet.”

  The disappointment was a physical blow, but he took pains to hide how it affected him. “May I ask why, Your Highness?”

  “It’s a matter of security for Tournai. I need you to stay here for a while longer, Flavian.” Prince Philip’s words made Flavian’s stomach sink, but he hadn’t really believed the prince would let him go so quickly. Hoped, though. “You can leave off the disguise if you like.”

  “I can’t. No one can know who I am. The duke and duchess don’t know. If they did, they would haul me back to Ardunn and hand me over.”

  “Oh, yes. Cathal told me briefly about the majority laws in Ardunn. Perhaps you can explain the new laws of the empire to me in more detail while you’re here.”

  He blinked for a second, surprised at Prince Philip’s request. “Yes, Your Highness.”

  “And for now, we’ll keep your secret. It won’t go further than us and my cousin, Etan. He’ll have to know.” If Prince Philip noticed Cathal’s stare, he paid no mind to it, continuing to look only at Flavian. Flavian had no idea what Cathal’s look was meant to convey, but he ignored it as well, knowing he needed to pay attention to the prince. He didn’t even bother asking why Etan had to know Flavian’s secret.

  “Thank you, Your Highness.” He paused, wondering if he should even ask. “Will you ever let me leave, Your Highness?”

  Prince Philip smiled briefly. “I have no plans to hold you prisoner, Flavian.”

  Prince Philip’s words didn’t really answer his question, and he was even less reassured when the prince continued speaking. “I’ll have one of the guards show you the way out of this wing. It’s something of a maze.”

  It was, but Flavian still found it difficult not to feel like a prisoner while being escorted by a guard.

  “I’ll show him the way,” Cathal said, speaking for the first time since Flavian and Amory walked into the room. “We were finished anyway.”

  Prince Philip nodded, and Cathal stepped to Flavian’s side. Flavian bowed to the princes awkwardly again in the gown he wore. Cathal set a hand on his lower back, the touch light and probably simply to guide Flavian to the door, but it was utterly devastating all the same. He tried to suppress the shiver the heat and pressure of that touch provoked, but he wasn’t entirely certain he succeeded. He didn’t look at Cathal, didn’t want to see if Cathal noticed. And he tried to beat back the burst of pleasure that rippled through him when Cathal didn’t move his hand as they walked through the door and back out into the corridor.

  Flavian couldn’t let himself like it. Cathal didn’t want him, not as he really was, and Flavian needed to do everything he could to remember that important fact. He took a step forward, letting Cathal’s hand fall away, and let Cathal lead him down the corridor.

  AS THE door closed behind Flavian and Cathal, Amory turned to Philip. “I’m surprised.”

  “About?” But Philip was certain he knew.

  “You aren’t letting Flavian go—and you could let him leave the palace and disappear as he planned—but you haven’t had him locked up or put under guard either. So I’m surprised and wondering why.” Amory followed as Philip left the room, keeping pace with him as he strode down the corridor toward their suite.

  “I’m not locking him up because I don’t believe he’s spying on us. I believe he’s sincere, and I believe what Cathal told me. He questioned Flavian under a truth potion.”

  “The truth potion doesn’t force anyone to tell the truth, though, does it?” Amory opened the suite’s door for Philip and followed him inside.

  “No. It wouldn’t force him to speak, but he did. He answered all of Cathal’s questions. He isn’t here to spy on us.” He began shedding sweaty clothes as soon as he stepped into their bathing room. A steaming hot bath was waiting for him already.

  “But you think someone is.”

  Philip flashed a grin at Amory, who was unabashedly watching him as he lowered himself into the tub. He sighed in pleasure at the feel of the water on his overexerted muscles, and a bit at the look in Amory’s eyes. He forced himself to continue their conversation even though he would much rather do something more pleasurable.

  “Ardunn has at least one agent in Jumelle, and if they’re in the city, they’re trying to get into the palace.”

  Amory pulled a stool up next to the tub and handed Philip soap and a cloth. “Ardunn seems more focused on pushing its boundaries to the east.”

  “Doesn’t mean it isn’t looking to the west at us and our neighbors,” he said as he began washing. “I think the emperor is power mad. I’m curious to hear what Flavian can tell us about the changes the emperor has made to the laws there.”

  “So you kept him around for that?”

  “I kept him around so Cathal can figure out how he feels about him.”

  The silence was abrupt and absolute. Philip had to stifle a laugh; the look on Amory’s face was so shocked as to be comical.

  “Are you serious?” Amory asked finally. “Cathal feels something for Flavian. Even now, knowing that Flavian is not Flavia?”

  “Yes.”

  “Really? I never would have guessed Cathal thought about men that way.”

  “Nor I.” He relayed to Amory what Cathal had told him, knowing Cathal would have expected him to tell Amory so he wasn’t breaking a confidence. “Explains quite a bit, doesn’t it?”

  “It does. Poor Cathal.”

  “Yes.” “Poor Cathal” was exactly what Philip thought. He felt for his cousin, who had trapped himself into a box created by his father’s expectations and didn’t know how to escape it. Philip understood that, understood how easy it was to get trapped and buried by duty. He had been saved, by himself and by Amory. He refused to let Cathal be pulled under in his stead.

  Amory smiled, a slow, sweet smile that warmed Philip through. “But you’re going to change that.”

  “I’m going to try.” He took Amory’s hand and began toying with his fingers, touching them, kissing them lightly, sucking gently.

  “And we’re going to get him out of the arranged marriage.” Amory’s voice had gone ragged around the edges, just a little breathless. Philip smiled.

  “We’re certainly going to try.” He moved on to kissing Amory’s palm.

  “Any idea how?” That statement was even more breathless.

  “Yes, but we’ll talk about that later.”

  “And what will we be talking about now?”

  “I’d rather we didn’t talk at all.”

  “What are we going to do instead of talking?”

  Amory was smiling when Philip stretched up and kissed him. For a moment, Amory didn’t seem to notice that Philip was tugging him closer and closer. And by then it was too late.

  “Pip, don’t you dare!” But Amory was laughing as he tumbled into the tub fully clothed, and Philip caught him close again, kissing his smiling mouth.

  CATHAL ESCORTED Flavian out of the royal wing without a word exchanged between them. He didn’t know what to say to Flavian, after their kiss and the conversation—interrogation—that followed.

  Back in an
area of the palace that Flavian would be familiar with, they stopped. Flavian looked up at him, large, blue-green eyes guarded, and Cathal wanted to kiss him again, right there in the corridor where anyone might come upon them. He couldn’t kiss Flavian, there or anywhere else, but the urge was so strong he was paralyzed with it, unable to move forward or away, unable to say anything to Flavian. He had to put it aside, as he should have done from the beginning, whether Flavian was Flavian or Flavia.

  Flavian stared at him a moment longer before stepping back. “Thank you. For escorting me here.”

  Flavian turned and strode away, his gait less than smooth in a lady’s shoes and gown. Cathal hadn’t noticed that before he found out about Flavian’s real identity. He’d attributed any awkwardness to Lady Flavia’s being unaccustomed to wearing such fine gowns if he had thought about it at all.

  He turned his steps toward his own suite. While Cathal had been suspicious of certain aspects of Flavian’s behavior, he’d never thought him to be anything except Flavia. His disguise was perfect, and inconsistencies in his mannerisms were explained away by Velia’s story of Flavia as a distant, poor relation with less experience of courtly manners.

  It was only after discovering the truth that he could see the things that were slightly off—jawline a little too masculine, shoulders just slightly too broad, height that was tall for a woman despite being only middling for a man. Still, Flavian was slender, slight even, his features not inherently masculine. Cathal wondered what he looked like without the women’s clothing and cosmetics altering his form and face.

  And then he forced himself to stop wondering. Because wondering what Flavian’s long limbs looked like, and if the lines of his muscles were soft or more defined, if the pale gold of his skin was the same all over—if it was as soft as it looked—was not helping him fight his attraction to Flavian. Which he had to do.

  What other alternative was there?

  He couldn’t feel anything for Flavian. Of course he liked him, was attracted to him, already. Was still attracted to him knowing that Flavian was a man instead of the woman he’d thought him to be. And Philip knew, probably knew more than Cathal had told him. Philip always did, and what Philip knew, Amory knew, or would soon. Those two didn’t keep anything from each other. Cathal generally found it admirable that their marriage was so free of secrets, so honest—probably a rarity among the nobility; certainly Father had never told Mother everything. But Cathal was mildly uncomfortable knowing that Philip was telling Amory everything Cathal had told him. It wasn’t that he thought Amory would think poorly of him or even that he knew they were discussing him.