14. Chapter Fourteen #5
“No, he doesn’t.” Viau turned to put his mouth to Rafi’s temple as if he wanted to speak to only him, but then faced the others with a voice that carried. “So now, to keep the storm cloud from such a thing, I must vow the same. If an accidental bump in a crowded space is worth that.”
“If you need a second, Rafi, I volunteer.” Katoh turned around to give the miné a magnificently disdainful look. “Though none of that would be necessary if you accepted the apology, which they tell me is how nobles are supposed to behave. Courtesy and all that.”
“The king certainly would,” said Bellai, probably lying.
Laure stared at his sweetheart, wide-eyed, but then also turned to face Viau’s challenger. “If you hurt Katoh, I would also fight you. Swersoldi are meant to protect nobles.” That was pointed. “We don’t want to kill you.”
At that, Viau leaned back against the chair, taking Rafi with him. If Rafi hadn’t been able to feel the tension in him, he might have thought Viau was relaxed.
“I apologize again for bumping into you,” Viau said it clear enough for several rooms to hear.
“You are welcome to join us to speak of manners and kings and anything else we fancy. Or, I suggest you go on and enjoy the rest of your night as Rafi would like to enjoy his.” He splayed a hand over Rafi’s side, perhaps to touch Rafi’s hip or perhaps to have his hand near Rafi’s sword.
He thought he was clever but Rafi knew his thoughts because he would have had them too, in Viau’s place.
“Come on, Montalo,” Cambray jumped in, equally loud and clear, “let’s have a drink and I will explain to you how we saved your life. It’ll be a fun story someday if you want to tell it.”
Someone really ought to pet Cambray. Being petted felt wonderful. Rafi hoped Viau never stopped.
“Swersoldi,” Bellai murmured, exasperated or admiring. That was all anyone said until the red-faced noble with the foolishness of a pissed second-year was tugged away by his friends and a peace-keeping Cambray.
“We didn’t mean to cause trouble.” Laure made a disgusted noise in his throat. “That miné isn’t one of us.”
“One of us wouldn’t have challenged Rafi,” Katoh added, shaking out her arms as if to dispel tension though none showed on her face.
“He didn’t,” one of the actors commented. “He challenged Viau.”
“They like to do that.” Viau kept his voice down, no longer needing an audience.
“Even when defeated, they brag of it.” As if any duel, no matter how insincere, couldn’t result in injury, death, or an arrest, as dueling remained illegal.
“It’s why I don’t go to their sort of pubs.
Thankfully, this one didn’t actually manage the words, or he might have felt compelled to go through with it, and then Rafi might have murdered him. ”
Everyone turned to Rafi, except for Bellai, who looked at Viau first and then at Rafi. “You meant that? You weren’t acting?”
“I’ve never had anything.” Rafi remembered saying that before. “He’ll leave me someday, but right now, they aren’t going to take him from me.”
Viau hauled Rafi nearly into his lap and buried his nose in his hair, intent on crushing Rafi’s ribs and further tangling his curls.
He relented, slightly, when Rafi grunted, allowing Rafi to inch back to look at him.
Rafi took the chance to attempt an apology. “Did I embarrass you? If I were less drunk, I might be blushing and sorry to have said that in front of your friends.” If he were less drunk, he might be worried about the duel he’d nearly just had.
Viau stared at him, and wet his lips, and stared at him some more, then settled Rafi more comfortably over his lap as if many others weren’t watching.
He took his time brushing curls from Rafi’s face with trembling hands.
“Embarrassed by what, exactly? Someday, people are going to offer you a great deal of money to buy the loyalty you gave to me. Have I earned that? I’ve been trying, but I didn’t think I had.
Not yet. My starving, pretty nex,” his eyes were so dark, “I want to be the one to give you everything.”
Rafi stared, and frowned, and then forced his frown away so Viau wouldn’t think he was angry. Although maybe he was. He was too confused to be sure. “Aren’t we sweethearts as well as lovers and friends? They all think so.” He waved over the others without turning.
“‘Sweethearts?’” Viau echoed, cracked and rough.
Even through the wine, Rafi started to worry that he had guessed incorrectly and humiliated himself for Viau once again.
But he was petted before the worry truly set in, and then Viau stopped it entirely by pressing a kiss to his forehead.
“Killer,” he said softly, “are you ready to leave? Because I would like to take you home now. Somewhere to keep you, and to keep you safe, and to keep others safe from you.”
“Swersoldi,” Bellai said again, either a curse or a blessing.
Both and neither, Rafi supposed, and spared Bellai a glance. “I do what I like,” he reminded the playwright, and then turned back to Viau to say yes, ready to go home whenever Viau wanted.