Page 50 of The Scent of the Ideal

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.

Chapter Fifteen

After they made their way back through the city streets, and walked the road that led to Trianon, and begged those on the night watch to open the door for them as all students had to do to get home after a night out, the group split apart, and instead of walking with Cambray to their shared room, Rafi stayed with Viau. He didn’t ask, but Viau didn’t seem to expect him to.

The cool air and the walk had allowed most of them to sober up, so Rafi was grateful he’d never taken off his coat, though it would stink of pub in the morning. Viau must have ridden into the capital, meaning his horse was likely stabled at the palace, but he had set off at Rafi’s side without speaking of it. He might return to the palace for his mount tomorrow, although not early, not if he still meant to spar with Rafi after dawn.

The hour was late enough that the idea of rising early to fight held no interest for Rafi, but he didn’t want to break the silence to mention it. The two of them went to clean up, as if Viau was even more conscious of the city smells around them than Rafi was. While in the shared bathing room for his hall, he insisted Rafi have water too, whispering the order for Rafi to drink his fill before ushering Rafi out with an arm at Rafi’s back, as if worried Rafi might reconsider.

Rafi was tired from the walk, the time spent among strangers, and also all the wine, but his thoughts were not quiet, and anyway, he didn’t want to reconsider. So he allowed himself to be led to Viau’s dark bedroom, cool from the windows left open, and stood by the bed while Viau started to undress in the moonlight.

“Did you enjoy Bellai’s play? You’ve seen it twice now.” Rafi didn’t know why he asked, but Bellai was in his thoughts—Bellai’s words were in his thoughts.

“Rafi.” Viau stopped, halfway out of his pants. He had not spoken much on the walk back either but his voice was slightly hoarse. “That is what you wish to talk about? And, I don’t know. Twice now, I have been nearby while the play was performed, and both times, my attention was demanded elsewhere.”

“So you wish to see it performed, but in the audience like anyone else.” Rafi nodded slowly. “We can go. We should go. I have some money left.” He quickly patted the inside of his coat to check that the coin he’d taken with him tonight was still there, minus the tiny amount he’d spent on some wine. His friends had been generous.

“Rafi,” Viau said again, “you nearly challenged someone and you’re thinking about plays?”

“I’m thinking about acting,” Rafi corrected him, somewhat dizzy but hardly drunk. “Among the crowd and in the dark with your eyes on the stage, you might be anyone.”