Chapter Twelve
Patin
You knew this would happen, you damn fool. You knew it, and you hung on anyway. Patin brushed the moisture from his eyes as he pushed his horse on the familiar trek to Folkon. He wasn’t planning on staying there. Truth be told, since he’d heard the fateful word “banished” – admittedly from a footman but still a damn shock – Patin hadn’t thought much at all. He had no idea where he was going, no idea what he was going to do, and the pain at just the thought of never seeing Serron or Jaq again, except from a respectable distance, was more than his heart could cope with.
It would be so easy to be angry at the king – ill or not, it had been that one man’s decision, Patin was certain of it. The queen had always treated him kindly, and he trusted Serron with his life. If the love of his life was done with him, Serron would’ve told him to his face.
But as his blood pounded in time to the sound of his horse’s hooves on the hardened dirt, Patin couldn’t bring himself to feel the anger he thought he would. You knew the first time you stepped into Serron’s suite, lured by the lusty twinkle in his eyes, that you were playing with fire. You should’ve left the next morning… You should’ve…
Patin’s laughter shocked a flock of birds in the nearby trees, sending them flying. We were such cocky young fools back then. He would never forget the first time he’d seen the young crown prince of Monce. Only weeks earlier, he’d wandered into the capital city looking for work. An older glassblower had taken a fancy to the breadth of his chest and took him on despite his lack of experience.
It was hot work, and Patin quickly realized exactly why the glassblower snapped him off the streets. Patin spent most of his days shirtless, his front protected by a leather apron, his long hair tied back to prevent it from sticking to his skin. Patin fitted in with the easy camaraderie of the other artists in the market and endured many a teasing comment about how his muscles attracted the society ladies and young gentlemen to the area looking for a bauble to buy.
He didn’t take offense. Patin knew his place in the world and had always been comfortable in it. Monce was just the latest in a long line of places he’d traveled to, earning just enough to keep him in hot meals and mead before moving on when he got itchy feet again. When working, he kept his tone respectful, never allowed his eyes to linger on any of the well-dressed forms who paraded past the glassblower’s shop, and if spoken to, he always responded politely.
Patin allowed his horse to slow to a gentle walk as he remembered the first day Serron had come to the stall. The castle was well behind him, and Patin refused to look back, letting his horse take the well-used path, lost in his memories.
Serron had been so different back then. An arrogant, handsome prince who’d apparently been acknowledged as heir to the throne the year before. When he and his entourage cut through the crowds on a busy day, everyone moved out of his way. Patin could tell the people he spent his time with weren’t afraid of the prince – he was just one of those untouchable people that the market-goers could respect and admire from a respectful distance.
Patin had been busy. His employer always ensured he squeezed every ounce of effort out of Patin for the coins he got handed at the end of the week. He was working on a difficult piece – a larger sphere of glass that had to be made to specific dimensions. If it was pushed too far, the glass would break. If it was not big enough, Patin would have to reheat the piece all over again. Sweat was already pouring off his face as he manhandled the long pole used to heat the molten glass in the flames, tilting the cooler end to his mouth so he could blow.
He could tell from the way the crowd noise behind him stopped that he had an audience, but Patin remained focused on what he was doing. Blowing glass was a mix of skill and instinct. Everything from the heat of the furnace, to the length of the tube of molten glass first heated, the type of glass, the pressure of the blow, and how fast or slow a glass blower turned the pole as they were blowing. Patin did not want a repeat of his first attempts where he had blown a hole clear through the glass at the bottom of his pole.
Those poles weren’t light, either. Although the handling end didn’t get hot, the length of them needed to keep hands safe from the fire meant they were prone to tilting toward the floor, especially with the weight of the glass on the other end. Patin’s shoulders were straining as he kept the pole moving, blowing softly and then a bit harder as the glass started to cool, desperate to get the shape and size he required.
The only thing that mattered in that moment was getting the piece right. Patin knew how big it needed to be, he could see the finished piece in his mind. Twice he moved the glass back into the flames, keeping the glass at an even temperature before blowing again. Samson, the shop owner, was hovering nearby, huge gloves on his hands, ready to take it.
“Now.” Patin rested the pole on the stand built for that purpose, keeping his hand on it, as he grabbed the large separating blade from the bucket under the stand. One confident tap, and the sphere was in Samson’s hands to be carried to the back of the shop and placed inside a wide chamber which would slow down the rate of the glass cooling, preventing it from cracking. Patin didn’t relax until Samson closed the door of the chamber and gave him a thumbs up.
“Phew.” Patin returned the gesture with a wide grin. He flexed his shoulders and went over to a small, chilled bucket that held water suitable for drinking. Bending over to take a scoop, he was shocked to hear polite clapping coming from the sales side of the stall.
“I must say, good sir,” a deep voice said. “That was a truly remarkable display of skills.”
“Thank you kindly, Your Highness,” Samson said and out of the corner of his eye, Patin saw him bowing. “Patin hasn’t been with me very long, but he’s good with his hands.”
Present-day Patin snorted. It took three months of Serron visiting at least once a week, but the prince eventually learned how good Patin was with his hands. Patin learned a few things about the prince as well – that he was intelligent, caring, and occasionally reckless all at the same time.
That was twelve years ago. Patin rubbed the back of his neck as his estate came into view. The one gifted to him by the prince who loved him. The gift Patin accepted, eventually, because Patin loved him in return.
I can’t stay here. Stopping at the top of the hill, Patin looked over his estate. The long driveway leading to the large house and the manicured gardens Patin was glad he had staff to care for. The fields behind them stretched as far as the eye could see – all part of his estate as well. Serron had chosen well. The Folkon estate was close enough to the capital city to make getting supplies and staff easy, but far enough away to guarantee a certain level of privacy. The sort of privacy a prince and his valet might want to enjoy being themselves away from the eyes at the court.
Letting out a long sigh, Patin was just about to encourage his horse toward the driveway when he heard someone calling his name. Tilting his head, Patin listened again. It wasn’t only his name being called, it was Jaq’s as well, and whoever was doing the yelling sounded in a very anxious state.
Turning his horse, ready to ride in the direction of the voice, Patin frowned as Serron appeared on his racing horse, his usually immaculate hair windblown and his face full of concern.
“Thank the goddess you’re all right.” Serron pulled his horse to a stop right next to Patin’s, before leaning over and resting his hand on Patin’s shoulder, panting hard. “You are not banished. We’re moving to Folkon for a while – you, me, and Jaq. I swear I will explain shortly, but we need to find Jaq. Please tell me you’ve seen him.”
“I thought he was having breakfast with you and the queen.” Patin’s heart started to race, due to Serron’s proximity and urgent tone. “Why would he be here?”
“Because when Jaq heard that some loud-mouthed idiot lied and told you you’d been banished and you’d left, he came after you.”
“But…but…” Patin looked at the area he’d just ridden through. It was basically forest for miles around. “Jaq doesn’t know this area. He’s not even spent a full day at the castle. If he took a wrong turn, which is easy to do, he could’ve ended up anywhere,” he flicked his hand toward the trees. “We’re going to need some help. I think the head stableman at the estate has a team of dogs and we can call in some of the fitter members of staff to hunt for him.”
“Good idea,” Serron said as Patin gathered his reins. “But first, tell me - why did you leave me? Why did you just disappear without a word? Haven’t I shown you after all this time how much you mean to me?”
Patin faced the anguish he saw in Serron’s eyes head-on. “Your father is dying, and that means things are changing,” he said, keeping his voice low and calm, even though that was so far from the panic he was feeling about Jaq, it was incredible.
“When I made my way down to the stables, the head of the household stopped me by the door and told me he could have trunks brought up from the cellar to help me move my things if I needed them. I didn’t have a clue what he was talking about, so I told him I’d get back to him and went to the stables, only to be told by the same footman who was supposed to be moving Jaq’s trunks, that he didn’t believe the crown prince consort would appreciate a banished man overseeing the movement of his things.
“When I asked him what he meant, and yes, I was angry about it, but I can keep a civil tone in my head, he told me word around the castle was that I’d been banished by order of the king. I assumed the queen was telling you that over breakfast, and rather than face the pain I can see in your eyes now, I left, because I swear, I would never force you to go through an act I know would break your heart as much as it did mine.”
“Oh, Patin, you noble fool.” Patin’s neck was almost wrenched off as Serron hugged him tight, and that wasn’t an easy thing to do when they were both still on horseback. “The king was worried, yes, but that’s because the damned Crown Prince Rupert has been sticking his nose in where it doesn’t belong. I’ll explain later, but for now, please accept the queen has given her blessing for Jaq’s and my wedding to be held at Folkon, complete with society family guests. But it has to be fast. Father doesn’t have long…”
“Crown Prince Rupert?” Patin couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Is he that enamored with our Jaq?”
“No, he’s just got himself into a royal snit that Jaq accepted my offer over his and decided to complain directly to the king, making insinuating insults about our relationship.” Serron’s kiss on Patin’s sweaty neck was a promise and a relief. “We need to find Jaq, plan to have a wedding in two days in front of a minimum of ten society families, and then we’ll deal with Rupert. But finding Jaq has to come first. He must be terrified.”
“Let’s grab some provisions from the house first, as well as a blanket as he might be cold. The goddess must have been smiling on us when you insisted on me keeping this place well-staffed and stocked for our random visits.” Gripping Serron’s bicep just for a moment – a relief that the man was with him at all - Patin turned his horse back toward the house. “Let’s move. We don’t want Jaq spending the night in the forest alone.”