Page 9 of Yellow Belly

But then he’d learned of his true role—to be whipped when the prince was disobedient or impertinent or when he faltered at his lessons—and for a short time Henry had seethed with resentment. He’d almost hated Stefano.

However, Stefano was always kind. He insisted that Henry receive lessons alongside him, and when he realized that Henry couldn’t read, had spent long hours patiently teaching him. Stefano had shared his space generously, had sought out diversions that would interest Henry, had insisted on joining in with chores whenever possible, and had, to the fullest extent of his ability, treated Henry as an equal. As a friend.

Henry had stopped being angry at him. He saw that Stefano tried his best not to earn punishments, and that when he failed, he was genuinely distraught to see Henry lashed. And Henry saw, eventually, who Stefano truly was: a sweet, intelligent boy who cared little for the trappings of royalty, who was passionate about plants and animals. A lonely boy who’d never been cherished by anyone.

Even Henry had been cherished, once upon a time, when his parents still lived.

Soon, Henry had grown to love Stefano. And as they got older, that love had grown beyond fraternal. Hoping that Stefano felt the same, but knowing that his shy prince would never act on his own, Henry had seduced him and they’d become lovers. Not surprisingly, Stefano proved as generous and thoughtful in bed as out of it.

Henry’s heart beat for his Stefano. He didn’t know if gods existed, but if they did, he was certain they’d created him for the purpose of serving this man. No greater purpose existed.

Henry was aware of Stefano’s faults. His naivety. His struggles with numbers, his awkwardness when interacting with others. His fear and unwillingness to exert himself beyond his own personal kingdom, which consisted of his chambers and his garden.

But oh, how Henry loved him. Stefano had the same eyes as his father and brothers and the same regal accent in his speech. But the rest of the royal family lacked Stefano’s warmth and humor, and none of them would ever love a servant.

Henry observed the angle of Stefano’s neck as he wrote and drew in his sketchbook, and Henry ached to lick that delicate skin. He wanted to hold Henry in his arms and to will the rest of the world—or at least the rest of the royal family—out of existence. He wanted forever with his prince. But since he knew he could not have that, he would have to cherish every minute they had together.

“Where is he?”

Henry nearly jumped out of his skin and spun around so fast he almost fell. Prince Louis stood just inside the open glass door. As usual, he wore a long, unadorned tunic the color of dried blood, along with deer-hide leggings and black boots. His resemblance to Stefano was considerable, but Louis kept his black hair shorn close to his skull, and his gray eyes were as impenetrable as a thick fog. His face right now was expressionless.

Belatedly, Henry bowed. “He’s on the bench near the pond, Your Highness. Shall I tell him you’re here?”

“No. Take me to him.”

Louis had never before visited Stefano’s chambers and, to Henry’s knowledge, had never been inside this walled garden. But the prince didn’t glance around as he walked at Henry’s side. Clearly the landscape held no interest for him.

Henry tried to approach noisily to give Stefano some warning, but that was difficult to achieve on soft grass. Besides, sometimes Stefano was so focused on his work that a herd of horses could have stampeded up to him without notice.

When they got close, Henry opened his mouth to announce the visitor, but Louis beat him to it. “Stefano,” he said, quite sharply.

Unlike Henry, Stefano didn’t startle. He set his pencil and notebook on the bench beside him and slowly stood. “Louis,” he said with a slight nod. Henry could tell that he was nervous but trying not to show it.

“We must talk.”

“I’m searching for an aquatic warbler. It’s⁠—”

“We must talk. Now.” Louis didn’t raise his voice, but then, he didn’t have to. He was terrifying even when—perhaps especially when—he whispered. Not just because he held all of the powers of royalty, but also because he was a wizard. Sometimes servants whispered about his abilities, but nobody truly knew what he was capable of.

Stefano wasn’t as cowed as others might have been. He lifted his chin a bit. “Fine. We can talk here.”

“Very well.” Instead of explaining right away, Louis cut his gaze toward Henry.

Henry bowed again and turned to leave, but Stefano called him back. “Henry, please stay.” Then, perhaps realizing Henry’s difficult position, Stefano shrugged. “Unless you’d prefer to leave.”

“Do you want me here?”

“I do.”

Henry walked to him and stood slightly behind him but close, as if he were a guard instead of a valet. Or a lover. The bench sat between the two of them and Louis, a symbol of their separation.

If Louis was upset at Henry’s presence—or at his lack of reference to Stefano as sir—he didn’t show it. “You were supposed to have an audience with our father this morning.”

“I sent word that I was ill.”

“Yet here you are, observing birds.”

Stefano smiled. “I couldn’t find the warbler, but I did spy a new kind of frog. Well, new to me. I’m sketching it now, and later I’ll consult my books to see if I can identify it. Perhaps this species was previously unknown and I’ll have the opportunity to name it.”