Chapter Six
PRINCE FENWICK DIDN’T live in the castle, Clament had learned. He lived in the military barracks some ways from the city, and apparently lived happily with the chef who had aided in Clament’s capture. He kept a room in the royal wing, though, for when he needed to stay over for whatever reason. Fen, as he had asked to be called after their second lunch together, had only been in the castle and near the smaller castle barracks by sheer coincidence when Clament had been attacked. Over the last few days, he had been here more often. Clament assumed it was in reaction or preparation for Toval’s response to Namin’s plans. He stopped by to chat or for a quick lunch whenever he could, and Clament was actually starting to like him. Fen had really only captured Clament out of necessity, and because Namin had made it so incredibly easy for him to do so. Clament couldn’t hold it against him.
Sometimes Fen brought Crown Prince Ayer along too. Ayer seemed equally nice, if a touch more aloof. He had a pronounced limp, but his mind was the sharpest Clament had ever encountered. He would make a fine king, unlike Clament’s brother Cadell, crown prince of Namin, who had inherited their father’s bad temperament. After meeting all the princes of Toval, Clament suspected the riches Namin was truly envious of weren’t the abundant fields, but rather the way the royal family worked together to support one another and the country they served. Because Toval didn’t serve them in the way the entire country of Namin danced attendance on their king. No, Toval was the exact opposite, and it was beautiful. No wonder Clament’s cold, grasping father was so eager to destroy Toval.
And then there was Braxton: calm, understanding, and with such a lovely smile. Braxton was handsome and kind, and far more generous than Clament had ever expected an enemy prince to be. In fact, Clament had stopped waiting for the moment he would be returned to the dungeon, finally understanding there was no artifice when it came to how Braxton treated others. That didn’t mean Clament was about to let his burgeoning feelings loose for anyone to see. He was still technically a prisoner, albeit only barely, and certainly a well-treated one. He wasn’t about to make assumptions and let anyone—Braxton especially—know about his infatuation. If Clament’s feelings weren’t reciprocated, he would only be placing a burden on Braxton’s shoulders by forcing him to endure Clament’s unwanted attentions.
Sometimes all three of them descended on Clament for lunch, like today where they were all squeezed around his breakfast nook on the extra chairs some servants had brought in.
Their inane chatter slowed as the servants finished putting out the food and departed, bringing Clament back to the present and the thorny issues they were trying to collectively solve: how to counter everything Namin was throwing at Toval.
Except, Fen’s first question was directed at Clament specifically.
“Have you given any more thought to changing your name? You said Braxton had mentioned it.”
Clament laughed and tipped his head back, looking at the white-painted ceiling. Once he was certain his laugh wouldn’t devolve into hysteria or tears, he looked back down and replied. “It’s all I can think about when I’m not wracking my head trying to figure out where in the mountains my father would think to build an entire fortress.” The opportunity to change how he identified himself, to change the entire identity of the unwanted bastard prince thrust upon him at birth, was far, far too tempting.
“Can we help with anything?” Braxton asked with what appeared to be genuine concern. He lifted one hand as if he wanted to rest it on Clament’s shoulder in comfort, but instead dropped it to his fork.
“I, well, I had one idea,” Clament hedged, wondering whether his idea was even worth saying aloud. “My father named me Lament, but my mother chose to call me beloved. My middle name is Caro, which in the ancient language means someone loved.” It was a crazy, radical change, one he wasn’t certain he deserved. His mother might have named him Caro, but she had died when he was barely a year old. He didn’t really know what it meant to be loved, so could he really claim such a name as his own?
“Caro is a beautiful name,” Ayer said.
“Everyone deserves to be loved,” Braxton abruptly cut in, his words sending a jolt of surprise through Clament. It was as if he were reading Clament’s thoughts. “Sometimes it just takes longer to find the right people.”
Braxton’s eyes were blazing and intense as he stared at Clament, full of some sort of intent Clament wasn’t certain he dared interpret. What if he was wrong, and that wasn’t love glaring at him; what if Braxton was simply a passionate person when it came to these things, and Clament was inserting his own feelings where they didn’t belong?
“If you want to be called Caro, we’ll call you Caro,” Braxton continued, his voice deep and gravelly with emotion. “If you want to become Caro, we’ll help you figure out exactly who Caro is. The question is, what do you want?”
He wanted Braxton. With every fiber of his being, he wanted to belong to Braxton, and to have Braxton belong to him in turn. He wanted to feel Braxton’s arms around him, clutching him tight. He wanted more than that too. But Braxton didn’t deserve a broken partner. Braxton deserved to have someone strong and whole at his side, supporting him as a partner ought. Clament couldn’t do that. However, perhaps, just perhaps, Caro might be able to become that sort of person.
Caro’s voice was slow and halting, but for the first time, his body felt light as if the burden of generations had fallen from his shoulders. “I want to be Caro. Please, help me become Caro.”
The room was silent for a long moment while Caro stared at his hands in his lap, clasped and white-knuckled from the strength of his grip. Then a hand appeared in his field of vision. Small knife scars, calluses, and fingers thick with muscle, yet so gentle as it rested on top of Caro’s for a brief moment, before reaching for Caro’s chin and gently tilting his head up. Braxton’s hazel eyes were soft but still with the same intensity, and Caro got lost in them, staring, rapt, and with no desire to ever look away.
“Welcome to Toval, Caro,” Braxton said. His hand didn’t leave, remaining under Caro’s chin in a caress that sent a shiver down Caro’s spine.
“Thank you,” Caro whispered, his throat tight with unshed tears and his breath hitching because while Braxton’s eyes might be soft as he looked at Caro, they roared with emotion all the same as if his eyes were simply windows into his heart. Clament might not be willing to believe it, but Caro definitely did. Braxton was looking at him—at Caro—with want and love and with so many emotions that Caro wanted to burst out with his own return feelings.
Someone cleared their throat, and Caro jumped, finally breaking eye contact with Braxton. He had forgotten about the other two people in the room. Caro half expected to see looks of derision on their faces as he glanced sheepishly over, but they were only smiling. Although Fen’s grin had a touch of mischief in it.
“You’re going to have to introduce him to Mother now, you realize,” Fen said to Braxton, his grin growing.
Braxton groaned. “Do I have to?” He glared at both his brothers. “You’re not going to tell her, are you?”
Ayer laughed. “You say that as if she doesn’t already know. No one is as shrewd or discerning as our mother,” he added to Caro, including him in their conversation as the brothers always did as if he belonged with them.
The usual sickly sour feeling of being an interloper tried to well up, but Caro fought it back. If Ayer wanted to include him, it meant Caro was supposed to be there. These brothers weren’t the type to be passive-aggressive or go behind his back. No, if they wanted him to do something or go somewhere, they would tell him outright.
“I really should meet Queen Trina and King Aurelius to thank them for allowing me to stay here despite the difficulties I’ve caused,” Caro replied.
Fen and Ayer snickered and, confused, Caro looked from them to Braxton. Braxton’s cheeks were pink even as he glared at his brothers, which only increased Caro’s confusion.
“Our mother is an excellent queen,” Fen explained when Caro looked back over at him and Ayer. “However, when it comes to her children, these days what interests her the most is finding us happiness. By her definition.”
“Fennn,” Braxton said in a half-whining and half-pointed warning.
“Yes, yes.” Fen waved his hand between them. “Sorry, Caro. I’ll let Braxton explain the rest. Let me just say Mother is very interested in meeting you. Has Alina cleared you to walk around without a healer’s supervision yet?”
“She said she received permission to take me to the royal gardens this afternoon,” Caro replied. “If I’m able to walk there and back without any issues, she said I should be able to go there any time I’d like to get some fresh air.”
“Excellent. Then, if you get permission, you’ll be able to join us for breakfast tomorrow morning. Eight o’clock in the private dining room at the end of the hall. The door to the garden is right next to the dining room.” The grin he shot Braxton was cheeky, but his smile gentled when he looked back at Caro. “We’d love if you’d come.”
“Then if Alina says it’s okay, I’ll be there.”
“Would you please just eat your lunch and get out of here?” Braxton groaned out, rubbing one hand across his face. “You gossip worse than some of the old fogies at court.”
Ayer and Fen both laughed, Fen reaching out to ruffle Braxton’s hair.
“Where’s the fun if we can’t torment you a little in return for how you treated us?” Fen replied, although he and Ayer did settle down and actually start eating.
Caro was sad they had to leave about ten minutes later, but Crown Prince Ayer and Commander of the Royal Forces Fenwick very likely had important duties to return to. That they had found time to stop by for lunch was amazing enough. Braxton must have just as much work, but he stayed behind, sitting in his chair and waiting for the door to close before he turned to look at Caro.
“Don’t let them, or me, pressure you into anything,” Braxton said, his tone an unhappy growl as he glanced back over at the door his brothers had just gone through. “If you’re not feeling up to breakfast tomorrow, don’t feel obligated to go.”
“I would appreciate the company, actually,” Caro answered honestly. “But I don’t want to impose if breakfast is private time for your family.”
“It’s not—” Braxton cut himself off, shaking his head and grimacing. He let out a slow breath and when he looked up at Caro again, his cheeks were faintly pink. “My parents had an arranged marriage. My mother brought lucrative trade deals from Yaroi, particularly a significant reduction in shipping taxes across the Eiroi Strait. She met my father for the first time at their wedding, and she hated every second of the spectacle of an arranged political marriage. She and my father have become very good friends, and they have learned to love each other, but it is not the love of lovers, merely a form of deepest respect. She promised herself that all her children would marry for love and has fought tooth and nail to ensure that happens. Ayer and Shairon’s marriages benefited Toval because she is as crafty and wily as a queen can be, but that aspect of it came much later. Mother invited the sons and daughters of our neighboring rulers who didn’t have royal magic—Namin excluded, of course—to the palace.”
Magic was genetic, passed down from parent to child. If a parent didn’t have magic, a child couldn’t inherit it. The last thing royal families wanted was to reveal the secrets of their particular golden magic to a potential future enemy. Which meant royal children with magic were carefully hoarded, and only children without magic were sent away as part of political marriages. Queen Trina didn’t have the royal magic from Yaroi so had been sent to marry King Aurelius; however, all four of her children must have inherited the royal magic of Toval from their father since they all remained here.
“Mother let them meet,” Braxton continued, “and when they fell in love, she brokered deals to cement them as political marriages in addition to marriages for love. Fen and I were too young at the time, and as the two younger children less necessary to pair up for political advantage. I’m sure if Fen hadn’t met his chef, Charmaine Oba-Musen, Mother would have attempted the same scheme again, but she’s quite pleased having a Musen with ties to the royal family.”
A Musen! That explained a lot, particularly if Charmaine was also an Oba-Musen. The Musen family were practically royalty themselves, their capabilities in the kitchen legendary. Those with the prefix Oba also had the ability to neutralize poison, or so Caro had heard, since no Musen had willingly come to work in the palace at the royal city of Svental, Namin’s capital, in generations. Caro didn’t doubt there were Musens working in Svental itself, but they must know the stories of the royal family and wanted to avoid getting beheaded because the soup was too hot or the ice cream too cold.
“Which leaves me as her only unmatched child,” Braxton finished, grimacing again. He paused, and when he looked at Caro, his eyes were fierce, blazing like twin suns. “You were captured as the result of a war, tortured horribly, and are still recovering.” Caro flinched, but Braxton continued, bullishly forcing the words out as if he didn’t dare stop. “What little you’ve told me about your childhood sounds like a nightmare as well. And right now, you’re taking your life into your own hands and writing your future. No one can or should tell you what to do; you’re making your own choices based on your own strengths. You are going to become Caro, in truth, rather than just in name. And the last thing I want is to interfere with that, or for my mother to force you into something you’re not ready for or you don’t want.”
“What—” Caro closed his mouth, swallowed, and tried again. “What do you think you or your mother are going to force me into?”
Braxton’s cheeks went even redder, but his eyes didn’t lose an inch of that blazing intensity. “From the first moment I saw you, I thought you were beautiful. You were stubborn and fiery, loyal, and so brave. I looked forward to every time I came to see you in the dungeon, and I admired how strong you were. I especially admire you now, knowing what you were going through and how you still refused to talk.” He swallowed hard, and his gaze turned anguished. “I realized I admired you too much, and I reduced the number of times I went to see you. Rather than daily, I started coming every other day. And then only a couple times a week. I was so afraid of what I might accidentally say or do, but that only allowed you to get sicker and gave those damned guards more opportunity to hurt you.
“If my mother didn’t notice how upset I was when you were rushed to the healing ward—when I carried you there in desperation someone might be able to save you—then she definitely noticed when I went straight there after learning you were attacked. Reporting what I found to the king about Namin’s activities should have been forefront in my activities when I returned to Etoval, and yet I ran to find you instead. You are… I liked you as Clament. I know I’ll like you even more as Caro. But I want you to have the chance to figure out who Caro is without me even inadvertently guiding you. And definitely without my mother interfering.”
Finding words to respond was almost impossible, Caro’s thoughts spinning and churning until he couldn’t settle on what to say or ask first. And yet, over and over the same words came to the forefront. Braxton liked him, and the way Braxton said that one word had been filled with so much raw emotion, an aching want that spoke of much more than mere like .
“I hated you, at first,” Caro responded, his throat dry, but his words still surprisingly clear. Braxton flinched, but Caro plowed on. “You reminded me of my older brother, always in a position of power and using that power to hurt others. Everything you said, your every gesture and facial expression, I interpreted through that lens. I wanted to believe you were just as evil because it was easier. And then everything you said, every gesture and expression you made proved you were the exact opposite. I’ve spent the last few weeks incredibly confused, to be honest. What I do know—” Caro paused, collecting his thoughts and taking a few calming breaths as what he was about to say was the most difficult part. “What I do know is Caro wouldn’t exist without you. Without your support and encouragement, I never would have even dreamed about leaving Clament and everything Clament stood for behind. Embracing a new future for myself without you still being part of it would literally be impossible. So, please, please stay with me.” He was begging, tears glistening in his eyes, but Braxton immediately took Caro’s reaching hands and clasped them in his own warm palms, his strong fingers surrounding Caro’s smaller ones in an embrace as welcoming as if he had taken Caro into his arms.
“If you want me with you, I will always be with you. If you need to fly alone, I’ll let you fly and remain below to catch you if you need me to.” Braxton’s eyes were damp, although his cheeks were dry and his smile wobbled.
Caro’s cheeks were dripping with tears, and he sniffled even as he smiled. “You be my rock to ground me whenever I fly too high, and I’ll learn how to be yours, and I think we’ll both be okay.”
He didn’t know who bent forward first, but the kiss was chaste and sweet, punctuating their promise with a wonderful finality. Braxton’s lips were warm and soft, and Caro didn’t need anything more than this right now. There would be time for more later as Caro became more comfortable with his new self, and Braxton understood that completely.
Braxton drew away, smiling at Caro, his eyes now dry. “I believe Alina is supposed to be here soon. And I’m sure my secretaries are desperate for me to return to work.” He sighed. “I’ll definitely see you for breakfast tomorrow, either with my family if Alina clears you, or I’ll come here.” He stood and started heading toward the door, then paused and darted back. Their second kiss was powerful and bruising, yet still sweet: lips pressed firmly, arms tightly wrapped, and bubbling joy flowing between them. And then Braxton was gone, with one last glance back at the door as he fled, likely before reason overwhelmed him as it was threating to do with Caro.
The door slid shut and Caro flopped back onto the couch, twining his arms through his patchwork blanket. A touch of his lips confirmed he was smiling, and reignited the tingling. Caro let out a happy sigh, and for the first time in his life, he relaxed, luxuriating in knowing someone else cared about him.