Flora And Fauna Pt 20

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"Fuck," I curse around a mouthful of toast and wipe the explosion of crumbs my bite created off the coffee table into a damp napkin. "Are you sure you have to run your errand this early? It's going to be hours before I have to get ready for the dinner thing tonight."

Andrius looks at my bareness with temptation but nods and licks a spot of fruity spread from his thumb. "I should get it done during the hour that Claudius said it's less busy in that area of town if I can. And I'll be here for another day, we can spend tonight together when you get back from the ball."

"Ugh," I throw my head back dramatically as I groan. "I forgot about the ball. It's going to be extra annoying knowing I could be here with you."

"Aww." He trots a few steps closer to put one hand on the back of my head and pull me close. "I'm flattered."

"Is there jelly on that hand?"

"Oh, fuck."

I laugh and help him disconnect a few auburn strands from the sticky spots on his fingers. "I guess I'll spend the time missing you washing my hair to distract myself."

"Sorry," he apologizes nervously.

"It;s okay," I assure him, running his hands up his chest until I reach his locks so I can muss them. "It's easier to set my curls wet anyway."

He bows to kiss me, his lips going taut against my own with a smirk. "Okay, I should go get this done."

As he heads for the kitchen, which has a service entrance to an obscured alley, he grabs his leather rucksack and quiver. Each shows marks of wear and tear. The former has a dangling strap that ends in frayed threads. He turns back to wave and I pinch the tip of my tongue between my teeth as I seductively swing my hips. For a moment, he pauses and his gaze slides along my silhouette. Blond hair swings around his face as he shakes his head to break the reverie. Within his moment of sanity, he waves to me and gallops through the doorway.

In the silence he leaves behind, I look around the cavernous space of the estate. I'm surprised Quince hasn't been sent back with a hundred reminders about being ready on time tonight on Claude's behalf. But I never did ask if he had to work today. Maybe he has her busy with other things. The thought evaporates as I head for the staircase. The marble steps are cold against my bare feet as I ascend the spiral.

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Out of the bath and finished scrubbing myself with a fluffy towel, I flip all my damp hair off my face. Reaching back, I scrunch my curls with a hand coated in honeysuckle scented cream. My bedroom door is open for Quince's arrival or in case Andrius calls to me from downstairs when he returns. The sound of a door on the lower level being flung open, then slamming, makes me jump in surprise. I pull on my sapphire nightgown and head for the door. The breath I suck in to speak with is immediately cut off by Claudius barging into my bedroom.

"We have to go," he announces in an abrupt breath.

I sigh in annoyance and take a step toward my wardrobe. "You said I didn't have to be ready until six, but okay."

"That's not what I mean." The panic in his tone makes me spin to face him. White shows around the sterling silver of his irises as he stares back at me. "I fucked up."

"What are you talking about?" I catch the pair of black riding pants that he throws at me and put them on, tucking my slip into the waistband without ever taking my confused gaze from his face.

"My parents know." He storms by me and bows into the bathroom, looking through to his own bedroom. "And where is Quince?!"

"Isn't she with you?"

"No! I sent her to take my personal documents from my father's home office while he's at work, then she was supposed to come here and tell you to pack!"

"I haven't seen her since last night."

The blood vanishes from Claude's lips, leaving them wan as he turns back to face me.

"Fuck," the curse leaves me in a weak breath. "How do we-"

He reaches out and roughly takes my wrist, pulling me toward the door. "I'll figure something out."

"Do you want to try talking to them? Maybe-"

"No," he interrupts, his voice cracking around the answer. "I just want to leave."

I glance at the chaotic spread of my possessions in the bedroom. The only important things to me are already dangling from my ears, adorning one of my ring fingers, and shining at the base of my neck. My collected gifts from Andrius. As long as we can find Quince and all leave together, he's right, we can figure the rest out. The rest is all just stuff. I shove my feet into a pair of boots beside the door and snatch my traveling rucksack from the floor without stopping as he pulls me. I don't bother to check what is in my backpack. There are coins and probably some clean articles of clothing, more than I need to be done with this chapter of dishonesty in my life.

Both of us stop mid step at the sound of the front door slamming open downstairs again. Claudius' jaw tightens and he glances down at me. I shake my head. Andrius wouldn't have entered like that. Or from that side of the house. And we both know it. I tighten my hand around his, so much that I'm certain I'm hurting him by the time he looks in my eyes again. The apple of his throat bobs as he swallows and nods once.

"I guess we're talking," he amends, the rasp in his tone absorbing the attempt at humor.

At the bottom of the wide, spiraling staircase, both of Claude's parents wait between us and the front door. Their stares fling daggers at both of us. I swallow hard, trying to wash away the drying, anxious feeling in my mouth to no avail.

His father storms a few steps ahead, accusingly pointing a finger at the chest of his son who stares down at the unchanging tiles. "What the fuck have you been doing, Claude?!"

The tone of his voice pulls my upper lip back in a teeth-baring sneer. Before I feel myself moving, I've slid between him and Claude. "Don't talk to him like that!"

"It's okay," Claudius whispers at my back, hooking an arm around my waist and pulling me back behind him. I look helplessly from one to the other as he easily removes me from the gap between them.

"And you-" The patriarch continues.

"What about me?!" I snap, leaning around his son to not let his eyes escape mine.

The door opens again, cutting both of us off. Marko enters, cradling a lump under one side of his coat. He starts at the sight of all of us, then looks only to Claude. Edward turns back to his son and raises a brow in questioning.

Half of my chest against his back, rising and falling in a quickened, anxious rhythm, I can feel the nervous tremor that rumbles through Claudius before he shrugs. Glassy shine grows over the pewter of his eyes as he rasps the words. "You said you wanted me to be happy."

"I did," his father answers, one side of his upper lip pinching up in disgust.

"He makes me happy," he chokes out, gesturing to Mar with his free hand while continuing to restrain me with the other. "He's a good person. I lov-"

"Stop talking!" As soon as he yells, his son starts and goes still, waiting on his next words. "We can fix this. Who knows about this mess you've created?"

"I... I don't know. I-"

"Well, think! Who knows about this?"

"I... I think Scarlet knows-"

"For fuck's sake." He rubs a hand over his face, then takes a deep breath and looks back at us. "Okay. We can fix this. It's early enough that we can control the narrative on this. We'll get Thales to move and-"

"What?" Claudius gasps in quiet horror. Still standing with his back against the front door, Marko spreads a hand protectively over the lump and glares at the back of Edward's head. "But I don't-"

Edward doesn't pause in his plotting aloud. "The right story in the right ears and it's easy enough to call any story from a gossip like Scarlet into question-"

"I don't want that," he asserts louder. "I... I want to be with him."

"How could you do this to your family?!" Dottie suddenly snaps, storming out from her position partially behind her husband. "Do you have any idea-"

"To you?!" Claude roars in response, making them both retreat a step. "I have been everything you have ever asked me to be! How much of my life do I have to sell to you?! And this, him, is all I've ever dared want for myself!"

"Think very carefully," Edward reprimands, holding that same accusatory finger up at his son, "about what you're saying right now. I am willing to help you fix this and eventually we could forget-"

"I don't want to forget about this! Or him!" A tear comes loose and slides down his cheek. The flesh feeling like trembling ice, his hand squeezes mine in return. "I'm your son."

Edward shakes his head, looking resigned. "I don't know who you are. But you're no son of mine."

A tic snaps in Claude's jaw as it tightens. "Say it to my face then."

"Excuse me?"

"You and I both know what you're going to call me when I walk out of here. The same exact thing you called Davis. So be a fucking man and say it to my face first."

The patriarch's chest swells with a deep breath, and his expression goes stern. Heartless. "Get out of my house."

Claudius' back presses tighter to my chest as he reels back. Then he nods. Glancing over his shoulder at me, he tugs me more to his side so I can walk out with him. "Come on," he assures me softly. "I'll help you find And."

A hand shoots between us and grips my upper arm. I wince and glare at Edward as he makes to pull me away from his son. "No. You're going back to your fath-"

Before I can respond, a blur in the direction of the patriarch's face slices through my vision. Claudius' fist slams into the middle of his face. Both myself and Dottie yelp out mirrored sounds of shock as Edward stumbles back, eyes wide and a hand raising to his bloodied nose.

Knuckles reddened by the impact, Claudius points one finger in his face. "Don't touch my fucking wife!"

Mouth still agape, I mindlessly follow as he pulls me through the front doors with Marko beside us.

"Wait," I finally manage to gasp as we step through the front gates and leave the estate property. The bright, early afternoon sunshine clashes with everything that is happening around us. "How are we going to find Quince?"

"I've got her," Marko answers and opens his coat at me, still supporting that side with one arm. Curled up against his chest is the alabaster sprite, her gossamer wings folded around her body like a glass pashmina. Through the translucent wings and fabric, I can see a violent blush all around her middle. She doesn't look out at us or say anything, but twists into a tighter ball before he covers her again.

"What about your documents?"

"Forget it," Claude answers, his face looking so pale it's nearly gray. "I'll figure something else out."

"Flora?!"

The sound of hooves and my name being called reach me at the same time. To our right, Andrius gallops up to us.

"Holy shit," Marko exclaims and takes a step closer to Claude, who looks frozen in a shell shocked state.

"What's going on?" And adds when he steps next to us, quiver and rucksack hanging on his shoulders.

I don't know where to start, so I take his hand and pull him to keep us all moving. "Long story short, we're leaving. Hope you didn't leave anything important at the house."

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It's a blessing that the train station is desolate this time of day. The looks cast on all of us as we made our way to Marko's place, the bank, then to the station, carried a tangible spininess that was too pointed at the rest of us to be explained by Andrius' presence. On each side of Mar's hips is a duffel bag, the straps crossing over his chest. Under his jacket, Quince is still a coiled lump now supported by one of the thick straps.

Several feet off to the side as the three of us check the schedule marquee, Claudius still hasn't said another word. I watch him worriedly in my periphery as he suddenly turns and stalks toward the squat building of neutral brick at the end of the pavement platform that houses a restroom. Turning back to Marko, I see him noticing the same.

"Can you keep an eye-"

"Yeah," I agree quickly, nodding and walking backwards as I speak. "I'll go with him."

Andrius bows in a futile attempt to make himself smaller as he takes a few hesitant steps toward Mar. "I can hold those, if you want. It's nothing to me. Weight wise, I mean."

"Oh, really? Thanks." He still looks nervous about And, but he smiles and lets him take the bags before he turns back to the long list of scheduled routes.

The dull steps of my boots echo on the muted, speckled tiles of the restroom as I enter, casting a glance over my shoulder to be sure no one is following. Gripping the edge of a porcelain sink, Claudius' knuckles strain a matching ivory as he stands with his head bowed. The stark outline of his white shirt displays the deep rise and fall of his chest in the room that's so dimly lit by only two wall-mounted lanterns with wavering flames.

"I fucking hate people who cry in public," he snarls. I flinch, surprised that he's even aware of me. "They just do it for dramatics and attention."

"I don't know," I murmur, walking closer. "I think sometimes people are just sad and in public at the same time."

"No, they're not! They do it on purpose."

"Okay," I agree uncertainly.

"I'm sorry." He lets go of a breath as he stands. The flickering firelight reflects on the wet lines running down his cheeks. "I fucked up. I... I don't know if it was what I did in Sirmont or... I... maybe I wasn't careful enough with visiting Mar. Maybe I-"

"Claude."

"Yeah?"

The hopefulness in his eyes when he spins to face me makes my stomach turn. My interjection has already been misinterpreted. He thinks I have a solution.

"Does it matter anymore?" I ask solemnly.

His expression crumples as reality seems to smother him again. "No. I guess it doesn't."

The mask he wears vividly shifts like watercolors spilled under a glass pane as he grapples for control over it. As I watch the bizarre breaking and healing, I can remember what it was like to be afraid of just being in a room with him. Afraid of his towering presence and his booming voice. I can't imagine being afraid of him now. I can't imagine being afraid of my friend.

Before he can interrupt me, I stride forward and throw my arms around his waist. Under my cheek, I can feel him flinch and begin to pull away from me. Then he freezes, and his cold, heavy arms mirror my own.

"I'm so sorry, Claude." Against my hair, I feel the weight of his face as he gives in to the hug and lays his head against mine.

In the oval mirror over the sink, I can see the quizzical expression he casts down at the top of my head after a moment of us standing together. "Thank you."

"Do you want to go back out to Mar?"

Before I finish asking, he pulls away and nods. As we turn away to leave, I wonder if the sudden affection made him more uncomfortable than anything, but one his arms curls around my shoulders and stays until we're on the platform with the others.

As we rejoin, Andrius finishes sorting through a pocket of his backpack. His tan forearm goes around my waist when Claude leaves me to return to his lover. Marko watches him worriedly but leans in to hug him once he is close enough. They both instinctively keep a gap between their chests for the hidden sprite. When Mar's lips brush his temple, Claude looks stunned and rubbernecks to watch their surroundings nervously. His gaze lands back on Marko eventually, who shrugs in casual answer. I suppose there is no excuse for any of us to obscure ourselves anymore.

I bite my lip and turn toward the schedule. "Do we have enough?"

Andrius nods. "Yeah. I don't know how comfortable a train car for my kind would be for you, so if you want to split up-"

"No," I tighten my grip on his forearm that has stayed around my middle. "It's okay. I want to stick with you." I press closer to him and look over my shoulder at them. "What are you going to do about the gallery?"

"I have some friends who will send all that stuff for us-"

"Claudius!"

All four of us spin toward the breathless, feminine voice calling out to us. The contact between Marko and Claude dissolves as the latter steps away robotically. The last few steps toward us, Carrie pants and bows at the waist, looking like she may pass out from exertion. Gray hairs stick out from her blonde bun all around her face as she tries to catch her breath. Her forehead and cheeks are shiny with sweat. In her hands, she clutches a thin leather document case. Red lines in her palm suggest she has been possessively clutching the handle the whole way.

"Here," she manages to croak as she wipes the sweat of her palms on her dark, simple dress. Her uniform minus the apron.

Claude stares at her expressionless as she presses the handle into his hand and forces him to grip it with the other. As soon as she lets go, his hand falls open. The case hits the stony platform and pops open. With a squeak of shock, she drops down to her knees to re-sort all the papers. In the chaos, I recognize some of the documents. Script and stamps. Passport. Birth certificate. She stands and offers the repacked case again. Claudius only stares at her, gears turning behind his eyes.

"How long have you known?" he asks, tilting his head as he scrutinizes her.

"A while." Carrie answers after a long pause, looking all around her feet before she works up to looking in his eyes again. "I never told a soul. I swear it."

A tic snaps through his jaw in time with the apple of his throat bobbing as he swallows. But he nods, looking certain. Until she reaches out to only hold one of his hands while she presses the handle into the other again. This time, his hand tightens around the leather loop. Her free hand raises to touch his cheek.

"You're a good boy, Claude," she says quietly. "You deserve to be happy. Okay?"

He is quiet for so long, it seems like he won't answer her at all. Until he takes a deep breath and looks in her eyes. "My family pays you very well. You shouldn't let anyone see you speaking to me now."

Carrie pulls away slowly and nods in understanding.

"Thank you," he mouths the words to her silently.

With a smile at all of us, that wavers slightly when her eyes scan up to And, Carrie turns and rushes away from the station. At our backs, a train horn bellows as it approaches the platform.

"That's for us," Marko announces, craning his neck as he checks the number placard on the front of the train.

Andrius offers the bags he was holding for them, each taking one. Since Claudius still looks lost in everything that has happened, I go to Marko with my question. As soon as my mouth opens, he reaches out to hook his free arm around my shoulders.

"We'll send word when we get to Ivalier," he answers without my having to ask. "Andrius gave me the address for you two."

I nod along, then stop when I see Claude trudge stiffly toward the train that has stopped at the platform. "He'll be okay, right?"

"Yeah. He'll be okay." Mar's face takes on a rare level of seriousness that ages the deep brown in his eyes. They shift from the innocent mirth of chocolate to the weight of ancientness in trees. "I don't know how to explain what it is to live your life knowing that those who claim to love you would hate you if they ever met you... It feels like death when it finally happens. But it's almost a relief after that, you know? To have the worst thing possible be over with."

I don't think I understand at all, but I hug him in return, careful of his chest. He remains still so I can pull open one side of his jacket to peer at Quince. One of her wings is over her face, but she adjusts it lower to look back at me.

"Will you be okay?" I ask her quietly.

The sprite nods, the longest curls of her candyfloss hair bouncing around her face. "I'll be okay, Flower," she answers with a roughness in her voice. "And I've always wanted to see the ocean anyway."