Chapter 11
The Markos were invited to the post match luncheon on account of the impression Cain managed to make on the Queen. Kurt and Raven sat to the right of the Queen discussing Cain’s clever choice of wardrobe as Kurt effortlessly navigated conversation with her. Once or twice he swatted at Raven’s hand when she was reaching for a pastry tray on the table.
# “They’re not even that far, father, it’s not like I’m reaching across the table!” She hissed at him when the Queen’s attention was on someone else.
# “We’re not here for you, dear, we’re here for Cain. We wouldn’t want the wrong sibling to leave the biggest impression behind, in their memories or in their seat cushions now would we Raven?” Kurt pinched at her cheek to emphasize when he said biggest.
# Raven, infuriated, resigned herself further into her chair and only drank tea for the rest of the luncheon. She glared at Cain as he ignored her and flirted with the prince.
“These here are my favorite,” Prince Erik said.
“The lemon ones? But they’re so tart.” Cain protested lightly.
“Well clearly I’m not one for any thing that would agree with me,” Prince Erik joked.
Raven rolled her eyes, and she heard a woman two seats down from her snicker.
“Which are your second favorite then?” Cain asks.
“Hmm… These. No, wait! Close your eyes, I’m quite sure you’ve never had one before and I want to know what you think without any preconceptions.” Erik reached out for a small plate of dark brown squares. “Here.”
Cain, playing hard into having been told to close his eyes, opened his mouth and leaned forward a little bit.
Erik hesitated- he clearly had not thought through how much he was encouraging Cain’s immodest behavior. He plucked one of the small dark brown squares by a corner and tried to slide it into Cain’s mouth without touching his lips.
Cain of course made sure he failed and closed his mouth enough that his top lip dragged along Erik’s finger on its way out. "Mmm," Cain moaned softly. "It's divine. What is it?"
Erik recoiled, and found himself slightly embarrassed for the second time that day. "Uh. Chocolate. From the Spanish colonies."
He continued the conversation he'd been having with less enthusiasm. His thoughts drifted to the letter from Wiatt, and his warning "Forever is a long time to be with someone and find out you don’t like them as much as you’d thought."
******
On a day they knew the Markos would be out for a few hours, Charles and Hank took some things to do and spent the afternoon out on the far inner edge of the orchard and set up a small picnic for themselves. Hank brought a small easel and some paints and Charles brought the kite Emma had given him.
"She said it has to be windy for it to fly by itself, but this is hardly any more than a breeze and it's soaring!"
“It must be all the extra wings on it that makes it fly so well. It’s so complicated I can hardly recognize it as a kite.”
Hank and Charles made idle chat, enjoying the sunshine and warm spring weather. It was a moment too late when they noticed the royal procession cresting the hill had taken a turn from the road that passes the villa and was now cutting directly through the field towards them.
“Is that the Prince??”
“Shit!” Charles dashed for a nearby bale of hay to sit behind and pray they had not yet been able to tell how many people they were approaching.
Hank nervously busied himself with his landscape, pretending not to notice the horses approaching him until he could hear the steps of the horses.
“He-hello! Your highness is it? What brings me the honor of your presence on our humble manor? I believe the Markos are in town today!” Hank’s voice shook just a little.
There was a royal guard, the prince, and a woman wearing all white. From Charles’ stories, he assumed this was Emma.
“Yes, I am actually quite aware.” Erik shifted in his saddle. “I don’t think I would be able to go out for a ride in this area if the Markos were in. But. I did not come to ask you about the Markos, I came to ask where I can find James DeLoncret.”
Charles squeaked in shock at the mention of himself.
“I- uh- Lonchret? I’m afraid I don’t know anyone by that name, your highness.” Hank bluffed.
Erik’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “Isn’t that Emma DaVinci’s flying contraption over there, by that bale of hay?” He pointed towards the kite, and unbeknownst to him, to Charles.
“Looks like it to me,” Emma said nonchalantly.
Charles cursed himself silently as he threw away the cast of string, hoping the kite would drift and not give away his position any more than it already had.
Hank feigned a spark of recognition. “Oh! You must mean the Baron’s distant cousin! I’ve only met the fellow once, but yes I know who you mean, of course.” Hank forced himself to laugh.
“So he is here?” Erik asked eagerly.
“Yes, yes he is! He prefers to stay in the back house of the villa, likes his privacy. You just need to go around the orchard here first and then ask one of the maids.”
“Thank you, monseiur!” Erik snapped his reigns and took off, the guard following closely behind.
Emma peered over her saddle at Hank’s easl. “Nice paining,” she mused, before following behind.
Charles ran up to Hank full of panic. Hank however was glazed and starstruck. “She likes my painting. Emma DaVinci likes my painting…”
“HANK. That’s good and well but now the Prince thinks he knows where to find me and Moira and Jean will have no idea what he’s talking about when he gets there!”
Hank snapped out of his daze. “Right. Right! I told him to take the long way around; if we sprint there we can make it to the house when they do and we can stall while you change!”
They took off, both running as fast as they could. Charles was an excellent runner, but Hank was unnaturally fast. He shouted frantically as he approached the servant’s house, and Jean was running into the servant’s house with a random tunic when the party on horseback arrived at the front of the house.
Logan was waiting in the yard- the servant’s quarters did not have a courtyard, so it was really just a small field in front of the house. “I must insist on the full honors, your highness, after all I owe you my freedom and every day with My Love from here to the end of my days. Please, let me take your horses to our stables, I will give them water and a brush over. We are honored by your presence yet again, your Highness.”
Erik politely cleared his throat. “You are very welcome, monsieur. In fact, I am here to see your master, Monsieur DeLoncret. I assume since you are here, he is as well?”
When it seemed Logan had taken up as much time as he could without being obvious, Moira came out to greet the Prince. “Your highness; this is an honor we were most unprepared for today, but are delighted to oblige! The Baron is not in, but his hospitality is always here for you,” Moira orated her welcome to Erik and his party, doing her best to set the pace of the conversation at a leisurely one.
Erik did his best not to let his anticipation make him impolite. “Yes, I know the Baron is not in at this time. I actually came because I heard James DeLoncret was staying here.”
“Oh! My apologies, your highness. May I go fetch him for you?” Erik nodded politely and Moira took measured steps back into the house as Erik followed behind her.
Inside the house, Hank and Jean were finishing rushing to help dess Charles. The trousers were on and the tunic secured, Hank shoved his feet into socks and shoes while
Jean combed through his windswept hair and took a damp cloth to his slightly sweaty brow. Once ready, Charles bolted towards the door.
“Monsieur DeLoncret? You have a visit-” Moira was cut of by Charles nearly colliding with her.
“Yes! Yes darling, thank you.
“Your highness, I did not think I would be seeing you again! To what occasion do I owe the pleasure?”
Erik stood still for a moment and stared at Charles. His eyes were a more vivid blue than Erik remembered, his cheeks seemed flush and, Erik was surely imagining it but it seemed Charles was full of adrenalin, excitement to see him perhaps? That this was the same man that had been alluding Erik for two weeks left him quite amused.
“You owe it to no occasion at all. Would you like to go for a ride with me?”
Charles couldn’t help but let his heart flutter. “These are not riding boots.”
Erik smiled. “A walk, then?”
Charles nodded and swallowed nervous excitement, crossing the threshold of the door.