Chapter 14
It had been a week since Cain had received any letters or invitations from Erik, and they had become worried Cain was losing his interest, but with a social invitation from Queen Eddie, they couldn’t be happier. Kurt and Cain bustle out the door early in the morning on invitation to have midmorning tea with the Queen, leaving Raven behind as the invitation hadn’t had her name on it.
“I’ll see if I can sneak some macarons in my pocket for you, Raven!” Cain sneered on his way out the door.
Charles had not been responding to Erik’s letters for the week, and in exasperation Erik had threatened to show up to Marko's manor and snub Cain if that was what it took to hear from “James” again. Charles could tell he thought it an amorous declaration of commitment, but it read as a death threat. He could put Erik off no longer.
He’d written letter after letter trying to find the right words to say to Erik to end their courtship.
At first he’d thought to be gentle but vague, telling Erik he was simply not worthy of him. But then Erik’s words in the cave came back to him, “your humility is incredibly pure and isn't the least bit self deprecating.“ Erik would know it was a farce, and it would only raise more questions than it answered.
He thought about confessing to him about the loss of his station and how, though of noble blood, he had no proof of his title and the King couldn’t possibly allow Erik to marry him. He had hope that Erik would be compassionate enough to have mercy on him and keep the information to himself, but he also feared that in his anger Erik might let slip Charles’ crime and Charles would be shipped off to the Americas before Erik could even realize he’d condemned the very man he was trying to save.
He had thought about being cold, cruel. He’d thought he should tell Erik that after some thinking he had decided that he thought the Prince too vapid, too unaccustomed to thinking for himself for Charles’- James’- tastes. Charles had started that letter and dissolved into tears. Just the thought of intentionally hurting someone he loved made him full of self loathing.
In a gentle effort to cheer him up, Hank joked, “if coldness ruined Erik’s affections, then there’s no way he'd still be interested in Cain.”
Charles laughed through his tears in earnest. “No, I suppose you’re right.”
“I know you are afraid to face him, but if you do not think you can write a sufficient letter maybe that would be the best way to end things with him?”
“It will have to be at a time when the Markos are gone long enough to not notice my absence.”
So when the invitation for tea with the Queen came for The Markos (sans Raven), Charles finally sent a reply to the Prince, asking to meet him in the ruins of an old church outside the city walls.
Erik was already at the church when Charles arrived. He was sitting in the alcove of a long toppled statue, reading a copy of Utopia, no doubt on Charles’ recommendation.
Charles smiled, filled with bittersweet affection. He was glad he had decided against the meanest of the letters.
“I was beginning to worry you would not come,” Erik says, looking up from his book. He noticed the sadness in Charles’ smile and his face filled with worry.
“James, what is the matter?”
Charles grimaced at the false name, and looked away from the Prince to collect himself. There was no point in putting it off anyways. Charles looked up, shoulders back, chin up, and with as much neutrality as he could muster, spoke.
“I cannot see you anymore.”
Erik opened his mouth to interject but Charles kept going.
“I have enjoyed every moment of your company, and you have made me a happier and more hopeful person, for the future of France. But the time I have spent with you was stolen time, and I cannot put off my responsibilities any longer. I will think of you fondly, possibly every day for the rest of my life. But this cannot be.” Charles’ eyes were welling with tears, and his hands, clasped behind his back, were shaking.
Erik said nothing, letting his words sink in. They were so finite, so resolute, but he couldn’t possibly think of any obligations Erik could not help him with.
“Whatever it is, I’m sure I can help you, put in a word-”
“Please, Erik, I am begging you not to make this harder than it has to be. It breaks my heart to turn away from you.”
“Then don’t,” Erik closes the distance between them and wraps an arm around his waist, and pulled him close.
Erik’s hand, unfortunately, went directly over one of the lashing wounds on Charles’ back that were not yet healed, and he cried out in pain. Tears finally fell, and Charles slipped out of Erik’s embrace.
Erik shrunk back from Charles, who had reacted as if his touch had burned him. It was clear that he’d made up his mind, that he did not want Erik.
And Erik would not make him.
Charles could not stop his tears now that they were flowing, and after a moment’s pause he became overwhelmed with the urge to flee.
“Goodbye, Erik.”
***
Kurt and Cain sat basking in the sunlight, surrounded by the fragrant roses of Queen Eddie’s personal garden. Angel, the Royal servant Kurt had tipped a fortnight ago, wrote Kurt that morning that the Queen would be wearing a maroon and gold dress for the day, so Kurt dressed Cain in a burgundy tunic with ivory pants- complimentary but not matching.
“Your royal Highness, Queen Eddie of France, may I present to you Baron Kurt Marko and his son, Cain Marko, here in attendance to your request.” Guardsman Summers announced.
Kurt and Cain both bowed their heads during their announcement, then looked up to greet the Queen themselves.
Queen Eddie smiled politely at them, analyzing every bit of their appearance and how it lined up with the information she’d gathered about the Markos beforehand.
“Well you certainly have commendable taste, we can put away any questions about that,” the Queen said jovially, pointing to Cain’s tunic.
Cain acted utterly surprised and humbled, and gave her a low bow and rattled on about what an honor it was to meet her. Kurt behind him smiled smugly, making a note to tip Angel well before leaving the palace.
Kurt gave a low bow to the Queen as well. “It is an honor to meet you, your Majesty. May I get your chair for you?” Kurt asks, already behind the most ornate chair at the table. He shooed the Queen’s chambermaid away, politely but firmly.
“So, tell me about yourself, Monsieur Marko,” Queen Eddie motioned for Kurt and Cain to seat themselves.
Cain gave the Queen a brief history of their house, and listed several fields of study he was interested in. “I do prefer the equestrian sports, as we have so much space out in the country for our horses.” Cain finishes.
“Oh how lovely. Perhaps you’ll join the King’s hunting party someday,” Queen Eddie muses, helping herself to another .
Kurt perks up in his chair, delighted. “That would certainly be an honor, your majesty.”
“I’d certainly hope so,” Queen Eddie said lightheartedly. “My son can be so difficult sometimes. Always trying to change things left and right. I suppose it’s Emma Di Vinci’s influence, she treats the slightest inconvenience as a problem, and doesn’t rest until she’s invented a new path around it. I’ll be the first to admit, sometimes the new path she forges is a delightful one- why the other day, she came to me with this contraption made entirely of blades, and sliced a piece of parchment clean in half in an instant.”
“France needs people like that, but I am much more of a traditionalist, to be sure.” Cain says, eager to establish himself as contrarian yet palettable,
“Oh, are you? My husband certainly is. He believes in using methods that have been tested with time.”
“I certainly think that’s pragmatic; after all, how else can you be sure to not make a fatal mistake? An artist has more liberties for failure, a King surely does not have the same such luxury,” Cain says.
Queen Eddie studies Cain’s face carefully as he speaks, looking to discern flattery from genuine opinion. Finding both, she nods and moves on.
“Which is why he is so precarious about the entire notion of Erik possibly choosing his own spouse. We’ve done our best to keep it as quiet as we’re able, but we know the Spanish will hear about it eventually. You haven’t written to any family outside of the city about your chance at a change in title, have you?” The Queen asked Kurt, half jokingly.
“We are not quite sure just how good of a chance we have, your Majesty.”
Queen Eddie laughed. “A true pragmatist, I see. Well there aren’t many contenders left, and you’re quite fortunate to count yourself among them,”
“And who might “they” be?” Kurt asked, with an eager, pleading smile.
The Queen laughed at his boldness. “Oh my, the Court would certainly have fun with you, Monsiuer Marko.
“There’s only two contenders left, really, Duchess Evalin Dampierre- whom Erik adores but they are more of a platonic connection- and some Count DeLoncret, whom I know almost nothing about.”
Kurt’s eyes widened a bit, but he kept his composure. “DeLoncret?”
“Yes, I’ve had the palace archivist search tirelessly for him, whoever he is he has certainly never been to court and never has business with the crown, and no one at court seems ot know of him either. Erik himself seems to know very little about him, he says he hasn’t heard from DeLoncret in a week! Who disappears themselves from a bachelor Prince? The man is quite the mystery.” Queen Eddie delicately picks up her teacup when she is finished laying out the mystery.
Kurt thought carefully, The only DeLoncret he had ever heard of was Brian’s first wife, Sharon DeLoncret, and she’d been the last of her family name according to Brian. And Charles, Charles had been acting rather insolent lately. Rather as if he thought very soon he would not have to see or hear from Kurt ever again. Up until Kurt had lashed him exactly one week ago. “… is he James DeLoncret, by chance?” James was Charles’ Christian name.*
“Oh, you’ve heard of him? Finally! I was beginnig to think he was a ghost!” Queen Eddie threw her hands up in relief.
Hot rage welled up in Kurt, and he did his best to remain amiable. Kurt quickly puts the information together, and it all makes sense.. It was clear by her reaction that Queen Eddie genuinely knew next to nothing about “James.” And why would she? He had no estate. No titles, no business or wares of his own to sell about the market. And of course he had never been to court.
“He’s a distant cousin of ours,”
“He is?” Cain asks, confused.
Kurt kicks him under the table.
“Oh, yes, our cousin.”
Kurt tilted his head at Cain in marked exasperation, begging him to compose himself. “The one you once called Cinderella as a child,” Kurt says, his tone artificially light.
Cain slams a fist on the table.
Queen Eddie sits rigid in her seat, face contorted with shock and offense.
Cain composed himself, and smiled politely, “Apologies, your majesty, there was a fly.”
“Oh. Did you get him?” She asks warily.
“Oh, I’ve got him,” Cain says, sharing a look with Kurt, having made the same realizations that Kurt had made moments ago.
Charles having no one who could verify any information about him meant he had no one to refute anything Kurt said about him now,