Please Be Patient, Grand Duke

Chapter 44.2

“Did you go to the lake alone?”

Wade pulled the trigger as he asked, his tone impatient.

The shot was quickly followed by the shriek of the wild boar as it collapsed amongst the foliage of the forest. In a moment the dogs were upon it, pinning the still breathing boar by the neck.

Claude aimed towards the opposite side of the lake without saying anything, intentionally pulling his own trigger too soon when he saw the flash of boar hide through the trees, aiming for a tree trunk rather than the boar. He liked hunting well enough for sustenance, but not for sport.

The moment that the birds flew over his head, coming from the direction of the lake, Claude thought of Canillian.

Would he be gone from the lake by now? He’s clever, and so might have left the forest without the prince noticing.

Claude calculated his own pace and speed, factoring the time that it would take someone to come out of the water and get dressed, as he led the group farther from the lake. ????????????????????a????. ????૦????

On some level he felt foolish for playing this game. Everyone believed that Canillian was a male. His doubt wasn’t rational, he knew, but despite what everyone else took to be true, his instincts screamed that Canillian was something else.

The supple skin, the soft flesh beneath it, the line of his body beneath the clothes. Canillian did not feel like a man.

And although he tried to put it out of his mind, he had been replaying that one conversation for days.

“I’ll help you get into Louvre. I can help you.”

“…How did you know? That I’m trying to get into Louvre.”

“Ever since I got here, I have only been looking at you.”

“That’s… strange.”

“I told you that I fell in love at first sight, Canillian.”

The Louvre, Canillian, Ian Sergio. And that woman.

It was the day that he kissed him. Every one of his senses had sharpened, homed in, and then faded into a warm oblivion where there was only Canillian. Then when he pulled away from Canillian, he laughed as he tasted the sweetness of sugar.

The answer was near.

Claude was pulled from his thoughts and stood as his servant approached with Viscount Philip. Phillip moved to stand close at Prince Wade’s side, his face flushed with poorly hidden enthusiasm.

Claude frowned at Phillip’s expression. In spite of everything, intimacy between males made him uncomfortable. Worse even, he couldn’t help but feel contempt at the deception.

Wade ended the hunting early as he wasn’t pleased with Claude’s distractibility and lack of enthusiasm. Around twenty of them gathered, and leaving the dense forest the hunting party mounted their horses before riding back across the fields. Wade and Claude, as usual, took the front.

Wade slowed down, and coming up beside Claude he asked, “It seemed as though you were hiding something at the lake? A lovely treasure perhaps?”

“Perhaps.”

“Was it beautiful?”

“Horrible.”

The prince looked confused at Claude’s firm reply.

“Something horrible, but still to your taste? You seem so different nowadays, Claude.”

Rather than answer, Claude clenched the hand he was holding the reins in and kicked his horse into a gallop. His emotions welled up unexpectedly, and he was surprised to feel a few tears roll down his cheek.

Claude called back over his shoulder, “I find it unbelievably lovely, and I find myself miserable because of it. I am very… displeased.”

Wade’s laughter from behind rang across the field.

Wade, sped to catch up with Claude, then went ahead of him.

With the corner of his mouth quirked up in amusement, he said, “It’s love, young duke! Well-deserved at last. Have fun with your heartache. Oh how horrible it is, and how you can’t get out of it, or get enough of it…”

Wade reined in his horse, stopping in front of Claude, his face turning serious.

“But even more important than your love life, Claude, we need to discuss the assassinations. I heard there has been a third attempt. Did the duke say anything?”

Claude’s expression turned dark.

“He’s coming back to the capital soon. The assassination attempts all failed, and father is well. We can’t leave Ian Sergio in the Empire any longer.”

“That’s why we’re keeping him here. It might be the only way to end this war, and usher in a period of peace. Despite his low rank, he is the strong favorite to become king.”

“You want Ian Sergio to become the king?”

“Why not? It’s not always the case, but generally the kings of Geore live a long life and have a long reign,” Wade said before trotting toward his squire.

Arriving at the stables, Claude dismounted and removed his vest and gun holster.

He could hear the prince’s attendees chatting over the window, but his attention was on his own tumultuous thoughts.

Would he have arrived at the Academy by now?

He felt pathetic as guilt washed over him. Despite the news of a third assassination attempt on the duke’s life, his thoughts kept circling back to Canillian.

Claude headed to the sofa where Canillian had sat that day. Rubbing the tense muscles of his neck, he laid down and looked up at the ceiling. Meditating on the ceiling’s familiar pattern he sighed and closed his eyes.

***

“Marilyn. It’s been a while.”

Marilyn returned Rosina’s greeting formally, her smile dignified as always.

“Greetings from the Marquis Shelby family. You’re beautiful as always, Rosina.”

The great hall of the palace stretched out before them, bustling with the banter of nobles all dressed in their finest. Marilyn and Rosina felt the envious gazes from all of them as they sat elevated in their place of honor at the edge of the dais.

The nobles gravitated toward them, as small planets to the sun.

“Did you hear? They caught the criminal that was going to hurt you,” one of the more preening nobles said, a sir something or other. She couldn’t recall his name.

“I did. But I heard the true mastermind behind the plot hasn’t been apprehended yet, so I shan’t relax too much.”

“Since Duke Ihar’s family is also at risk, it’s only a matter of time. Everyone suspects Duke Belham of the west inside. As you know, his debts are high since he lost half of his land.

“Enough,” said another noble. “This unpleasant talk doesn’t suit the delicate sensitivities of ladies. Leave the worrying to the men. Have any of you visited the new salon?”

The group were laughing and chatting about the owner of the new salon when a hush fell over the hall.

The widows Marchioness Vale and Marchioness Shelby, and the group of ladies that shadowed them everywhere, had entered the great hall. The former gaiety in the hall dimmed, replaced by the unease that always accompanied their presence.

Not far behind them Anastasia Vale also followed, and behind her was Canillian Vale, a guard on each arm.

Canillian’s face was drained of all color, his eyes downcast, as the guards dragged him across the marbled tiles.

Just as Rosina stood to help him, overcome by pity, the guards adjacent the grand entrance at the end of the hall hit the floor twice.

“His Majesty the Prince!”

The servant’s shout turned everyone’s heads, and they shuffled to bow and curtesy. Marilyn and Rosina were the exception.

Prince Wade entered, wearing the royal robes, accompanied by Claude and Kieran, their gazes drawn to the two women, as were the envious eyes of the rest of the court.

“Sir Claude,” Marilyn greeted.

Her smile hardened as she approached the young duke and saw that he wasn’t looking at her at all.

Rather, Claude’s eyes were fixed on one person only.