Flora & Fauna Pt. 15

Marko answers first. "We don't have any."

Claude shrugs as Quince wrestles the frosting crown from a petit four as he brings it to his mouth. "It's not like we can get married out here anyway."

"Oh." I mewl sadly.

"We agreed we would get rings for each other when we moved somewhere it was legal. Doesn't make sense until then."

"What would you get?" I ask, trying to revive the mood with a hypothetical.

They look at each other and consider the question for a moment.

Claude holds his left hand out in front of him. "I'm a minimalist. I actually really like this plain platinum band."

"Hmm." Marko thinks for a moment longer as he swirls his mug of champagne around. "I don't know. I haven't thought about it in a while. You said centaur males wear embedded diamonds?"

"Yeah. They wear it facing the inside of their hand, so they're protecting and holding the stone."

He tilts his bare left hand in front of himself as if watching the glint of an imaginary ring. "Romantic. I kind of like it."

"Great." Claudius walks around the table and leans forward to drape an arm around Marko. "Now I have to buy you a diamond."

"As if you wouldn't buy me a hundred diamonds if you had an adequate excuse."

"I'll buy you anything you want. It will really cut into our stormiest day fund though." Claudius' hand twists in the fabric of Marko's shirt to hold him in place as he bows his upper body over him.

"Stormiest day fund?" I echo.

"It's this bank account we have for- Stop!" Marko's explanation is broken as he laughs and squirms away from the kisses Claude is pressing to the crook of his neck.

"For if we ever have to leave." Claudius pulls away to answer. "We save as much as we can while still living up to expectations, so that it's not obvious. Everything we have to spare at the end of the month I put into a bank account that my father doesn't know about."

"When." Marko mumbles more seriously. "When we leave."

"Where do you plan to go?"

They look at each other and something unspoken passes between them before Claudius answers. "Ivalier."

"Ivalier?" I repeat the word, trying to pull up anything I know about the place. "That's in the South, right?"

Marko nods. "The Silver Coast."

"Is that where your family is from?"

His sardonic laugh bounces off the inner walls of the mug he's sipping from. "Fuck no. Some of my friends from Sirmont moved there and keep me posted on the cultural climate. We could be legally married there."

"We don't know that for sure."

"Lucia's last letter said that marriage equality will pass on the next vote."

"Is this the same Lucia that you told me was once convinced that chicken nuggets come from a species of chicken that has no bones?"

Marko pulls away enough to stare into his eyes and pauses, as if hoping he'll drop it. "Okay, yes. But, for the record, she thought they had a system of bone-like cartilage and she only believed that for like a week."

Claudius rolls his eyes.

"So... when do you want to move there?"

"When indeed." Marko grumbles and downs the rest of his mug, then refills it.

The two very different but equally uncomfortable expressions makes me regret ever bringing us to this point in the conversation. I don't dare ask why they haven't left yet, if there's a plan and a bank account. And an engagement. For Marko and I both, I want to ask why this fake marriage ever even became part of the plan.

"We will move to Ivalier. When we can afford a stable start."

Marko doesn't look back at him, opting instead to stare pointedly at the champagne fizzing as he swirls it around in the ceramic mug.

"While I'm here, if you want, I could look over your half of the budget." Claude says quietly after an awkward pause.

"Fine. Whatever."

"We don't have to-"

"Flora." Marko suddenly snips and his voice makes my back snap rigidly straight. "There's a notebook by the register in the shop, will you grab it for me?"

Out in the shop, Quince's bobbing glow guides me behind the front counter. Her light reflects off the squared outline of the cash register and the rounded ones of a moleskin journal. Hanging out from the pages is a thicker, uneven material. With a glance over my shoulder, I open it to the marked page. Thick linen with ragged etches bookmarks an uneven page, some of the charcoal has rubbed off on the page pressed against the artwork. With the additional details since the last time I saw it, I can recognize the subject. Claudius' face tilted back, the thumb of Marko's hand reverently grazing the edge of his lower lip. Neither of us say anything until I snap the ledger shut.

"Awkward in there." Quince whispers in my ear.

"Agreed. Ugh. I wish I'd never asked."

Sparkles reflect her colorful glow on another object and we both turn toward the source. A card is pinned to the overhang of the counter, a glittery outline of an angel surrounded by snowflakes and stars. We look at each other in silence before I reach out to press the card open. I quietly read the handwritten, tilted message aloud.

The Lady Grace sends our utmost thanks for your continued donations! With your generous support, we have been able to add several amenities to our Pith location including more private bed stalls, imports of fresh produce, and more available hours of our on-site medical team. We who work tirelessly for the safeguarding of the people of Pith cannot thank you enough for your continued support. We will always keep you in our prayers and we wish you and yours the best! Happy Solstice!

"The Lady Grace?" I whisper.

Quince shrugs.

Ledger in hand, I rush back with the sprite clinging to my shoulder.

The champagne seems to have taken some effect, or the two of them are very good at communicating. Maybe both. Marko is laughing when I reenter the room. A deck of cards is being noisily shuffled between his hands in a blur of white, red, and black. Claudius rolls his eyes but is smiling as well as he walks around the table.

"Want to learn how?" Marko calls over to me with a sly wink.

"Learn how to what?" I respond as Claude stalks forward and snatches the moleskin from my hand.

"Deal three-card monte."

"Let me be very clear, I do not have bail money." Claudius alerts both of us as he takes his seat beside Marko.

"You totally have bail money." I respond with a hand on my hip which Quince mirrors.

"Let me be even more clear, I will not bail either of you out if you get caught scamming people with three-card monte."

"Awww." Marko pouts dramatically as he lays three cards face down on the table. "You're no fun. You play the shill."

"I most certainly will not."

I slide into the seat across from them as Claudius flips open the ledger and pulls a pen from the inner pocket of his jacket. He tears a blank sheet of paper from deeper within and begins to calculate the most recent pages of expenses.

According to Marko, his sleight of hand is rusty. But he manages to fool me all the same. Each time I think I've chosen the right card, I'm wrong, until I concede to his growing confidence and the cocky expression that has the tip of his tongue trapped between his front teeth.

"You spent more on take-out this month than we agreed to." Claude sighs as he closes the moleskin on the pen.

"So sue me." Marko rolls his eyes and slides the cards back into their cardboard case. "Sometimes I want a coffee and Flora isn't here to bring me one."

"It's hot bean water, Mar. You're an intelligent man. You can figure it out here at home."

"They're lattes and they're an art form."

Both of them look like they have a lot more to say. They both look at me, then at each other, and something silent passes between them again. Whatever it is they mean to say, they decide against it. The tattered linen edges hang from the ledger and the charcoal sketch therein still hovers in my mind. Quince lands in front of me and I take the cards from the table. With her fangs showing, she carefully watches the cards as I shuffle them quickly from one hand to the other. The wings on her back flutter loudly as I lay out three cards and she makes her first guess.

.

One of the two empty champagne bottles lying on the table clinks against the surface as Quince pushes against the neck with all her weight, trying to tilt it enough to claim whatever drops remain inside. Her tired, gossamer wings are still against her back. At the brief mention of the next exhibition, she begged to help or be a part of it in some way. A request she regretted after a length of time spent holding a pose for Marko as he sketched her from various angles. When she pouted about the cramp in the base of her wings, he released her from her servitude.

Across the table, Claudius leans back against his chair, stretching his arms out behind him and groaning tiredly. He reaches behind himself and fishes around in the pocket of his jacket that's draped over the back of the chair. The silver and aqua of the pocket watch glints in the light as he flicks it open, then shut. A few feet behind him, Marko notices the shine of it as he brushes his hair in front of a circular, wall-mounted mirror and reigns in a smile.

"It's late." Claudius sighs. "We should head back."

Marko quickly sets down the comb and stares at me intensely over Claude's shoulder. He puts his hands together, lays his head on them as if sleeping, then points at the floor. Getting his meaning, I quickly look away to Claude.

"If it's so late, why don't we just spend the night here? The schedule you sent said you don't have work early tomorrow morning anyway."

"Nice to know you're actually reading the schedule."

"Seriously. Quince and I are both sleepy. Let's just stay here."

"There is one bed here and you are not sharing it with Marko and I.'

"As if I want to share a bed with you." I stick out my tongue. "I roughed it the first time I traveled to Prophia and it was fine. Crashing on a couch is not going to ruin my evening."

"Fair point. I guess as long as he doesn't mind-"

"I don't mind at all!" Marko's arm drapes over him in an instant and he presses a kiss to his cheek that Claudius leans into. As the latter's eyes drift contentedly shut, the former gives me a conspiratorial smile.

None of us bother clearing the table of bags, boxes, and bottles as we prepare for bed through the haze of exhaustion and the dizzy buzz of champagne. Quince spins in the air until a scarf is wrapped around her as many times as possible, then she wriggles down between two couch cushions and sighs happily. For all the pushback Claudius had to the idea, he seems the most happy to be staying here tonight. His arm stays looped around Marko's waist or his fingers trailing along his body, every moment that we all spend finding our places.

"Um." Marko begins as stands in the bedroom doorway and rubs at his face. "There are some extra blankets in that skinny closet near the kitchen if you two get cold. And there's- Ah!"

Claudius' arm darts out from the darkness and curls tight around his waist. Marko never finishes what he was saying before he's pulled into the bedroom and the door is snapped shut. As soon as I look up at Quince lounging over the back of the couch, we both burst into giggles. I hold open the top of the blanket and wait for her to wriggle into the cocooned warmth. Content at the thought of them getting to have a night together, I put a hand over Quince to hold her protectively like a plushie and slip easily to sleep.

.

"Stop that."

At his insistence, I stop raising my eyebrows teasingly at Claude as we walk the cobblestone, leisurely route to his home. The suit jacket he wore last night is so wrinkled that it's obvious every time his black coat is opened by a chill wind. Quince naps in my inner coat pocket as I walk gently enough to not jostle her.

As we reach the front door of the estate, a maid doesn't swing open the door to greet us. Edward does. Both of us stop short and I feel Quince groggily squirm against my chest from the sudden jerk of movement. A thick folder of paperwork is held under his arm as he stares at both of us.

"Are you two just getting in?"

In the split second of empty space, I realize Claude has nothing planned for this. No performance rehearsed in his head. I muster up a bashful smile that I hope comes with blush and bite the inside of my cheek as I loop an arm through his. "Sorry. It's my fault. I wanted to spend a night at that new bed and breakfast downtown and, well, we were already closer to there than home so... I thought you didn't have work early today?"

At the last part, Claudius looks down at me and his fake self clicks into place. "I didn't think I did either?"

Edward sighs at us both. "You didn't. I just... I needed these documents for a client and you had them with your things and.... Nevermind."

"Sorry," Claudius quickly adds. "My mistake. I should have left them at the office."

"No, no. It's fine. I have them now. I guess I was just a little worried with, well, you know."

The two of us look at each other then back at him.

"With your... condition," he clarifies to me in particular.

"Oh," I chirp, surprised that he caught on so quickly to the hints at dinner. "That. Well. We aren't a hundred percent sure yet. I didn't want to say anything or get anyone's hopes up."

"I understand. Especially with Dottie. I know she can be a little..."

"Effusive?"

"Yes. Perfect word for her." Edward laughs and relaxes. He begins to walk by us and pats his son's shoulder affectionately.

"Will you tell Dottie I'll be at book club this week?" I add. "I'll finish catching up tonight so nothing is spoiled for me."

"Aw. She'll be glad to hear it. I'll let her know." He comes closer to put one arm around my shoulders in a casual hug. "And I'm sorry to have stressed either of you. I hope you had a good evening."

Both of us nod and our looped arms squeeze tighter as we head inside.

Upstairs in his bedroom, Claudius sighs and shudders the tension of the conversation off. I do the same and unbutton the heavy peacoat to let Quince fly out. She flops onto the tightly made bed of dark reds and browns, stretching out all her limbs and wings.

"I appreciate that you stepped in, but please don't improvise lies like that. Now I have to make a whole plan for that bed and break-"

"I'm not stupid."

"I didn't say that."

I put a hand on my hip and lift my chin higher. "Nicolette works at the bed and breakfast and she owes me for covering for her when she wanted to sneak away from a party to hook up with a valet she was keen on. She'll cover for us if anyone asks."

Claudius stares at me dumbfounded. Whatever retorts existed in his mind a moment ago melt away until he only nods at me with an impressed expression. "Oh. Well done, then."

"See? I know what I'm doing. You act like I never snuck out or-"

"Wait, Nicolette hooked up with a valet?"

"Only once. He talked a big game. Had no rhythm. She kicked him out of her bedroom because he refused to accept constructive criticism." At his continued stunned silence I add on with a shrug. "Nicolette knows how to have a good time. That's why everyone likes her."

Claudius shakes off the stunned look on his face and opens the top two buttons of his shirt as he sits on the edge of his bed. The weight of him dropping into the mattress flings Quince into the air and back down onto the soft quilts. His hands go into his hair and re-muss it as he winces.

"Your parents seem really nice."

He looks up at me and nods. "They are."

"Okay, so, I'm not saying that I'm not in this with you but, I've been thinking." I sit down beside him as he continues to watch me in silence. "Your parents seem like really good people and-'

"Flora."

"And maybe, if you told them the truth, they'd be more accepting than you think."

"No. They wouldn't be."

The rest of the argument that was bubbling up in me dissipates at the certainty in his face and his voice. "...You're that sure?"

For a moment, he doesn't answer me and only stares at the cold fireplace. The early morning light streaming in through the windows makes every speck of ash and jagged shard of wood turned to blackened coal in the stone cage stand out starkly. "Yes. I am. Do you know the Reed family at all?"

I hold my breath and shake my head.

"They had a son, Davis, born around the same time I was. Our mothers were really good friends, so we were raised together. We were brothers in every way but blood. His parents even had a bedroom set up for me at their place and mine did the same, so if we played too late into the evening we could just have a sleepover instead of rushing home in the dark. My parents called him son and his parents called me the same." Claudius' jaw clenches as he pauses and tears a loose thread from the seam of his shirt cuff before going on. "I didn't even know that he was gay. When we were fifteen, he expressed interest in a classmate of ours in some way and that boy went around telling everyone. His parents disowned him. What I heard was that he worked under the table here and there until he had enough money to get out of Leaven, then he disappeared. And I'm not going to repeat how my parents referred to him at the dinner table after he was outed, but it wasn't son."

I shudder in horror at the thought of being abandoned so young and alone. Even when I left for Prophia, there was the steadfastness that comes with adulthood and the security of not being alone in whatever came next. "You... never heard from him again?"

"When the rumors first came out, he sent sprites to my window with notes. I didn't let any of them in. I was afraid that if I accepted any communication from him that people would guess... about me. It was cowardly but I just-"

"You were a kid."

"So was he!" he snaps so loudly I flinch away from him. His expression instantly falls with regret before he continues. "So, no, my parents would not be accepting of me. I know how they think."

I cringe in revulsion at the story as it melds with my experiences with the kind, welcoming couple. "They've been so nice to me."

"People are complicated," he says matter-of-factly with a countenance that suggests he's talking about more than just them.

The latch in the door clicking before it's opened makes both of us freeze and turn toward the sound. Carrie carefully enters with a trembling greeting, her backside pressed against the door to keep it open as she holds a silver platter topped with a matching tea set across her forearms. Steam puffs out of the teapot spout making the gray and blonde hairs sticking out of her bun droop from the humidity. A little squeak escapes her as she catches her shoe on a table leg and stumbles. She manages to drop nothing, then sets down the tray and begins to pour tea. At her mistake, I can feel Claudius tense like a coiling spring. I turn toward him covertly and pierce him with a pointed look. He rubs a hand over his face and turns back to Carrie as she pours tea into the second cup with a shaking hand.

"Carrie," he says a little too harshly and she jumps to attention. "We can pour our own tea."

I tilt my head at an awkward angle so my glare directed at him is hidden from her.

"What I mean is, we can handle the rest if you have anything else to get to."

"Oh," she squeaks quietly.

"And I'm sorry."

"What?" A tendril of her hair comes loose from the bun as she tilts her head with a surprised expression.

"I'm sorry that I yell sometimes. I don't mean- I mean, it doesn't matter what I mean. I yell at you sometimes and I shouldn't and I'm sorry."

Carrie's shoulders relax for the first time and she smiles cautiously at us both. "The groceries for the week just came in if you'd like some tea sandwiches."

"Tea sandwiches sound amazing." I answer before he can and smile in return before she spins on a heel to rush out the door.