Fly Away
Part 4
Ray paced, ignoring the concerned eyes of his friends. They'd gathered in his room, hoping to distract him from whatever had made him so uncharacteristically agitated lately. It wasn't working and he clearly wanted them to leave.
"Tell us," Franz demanded, his best stern schoolmaster impression firmly in place. The others laughed at him, but Ray just glared.
"How did the three of you pass if you don't comprehend the phrase 'get out'?" He leaned against the open door and drummed his fingers against the wood.
"Good looks," Franz assured him blithely, taking a seat and crossing his arms. The other two groaned and headed out. No one could reason with Franz when he was like this and they had no desire to watch the battle of wills to come.
"We'll send someone to clean up the blood later," Eduard called over his shoulder as he dragged Pierre away.
"Well?" Ray asked Franz, but the blond just shook his head and remained seated.
"I'll leave when you give me an honest answer about what's bothering you. We leave here in less than a week and you're so distracted you're likely to miss your own graduation.”
"Hardly." Ray countered. "You're making too much of nothing."
"Then at least tell me her name. Or his, I should guess." He appraised Ray's body openly. "Lucky bastard."
"Him or me?"
"Him at least. I'd have to see him to judge the latter."
"That was a very poor attempt. I expect better from you, Franz."
"Your stubbornness exhausts me. I'll do better after a rest. Now put me out of my misery, I'll leave you alone and we'll practice our verbal sparring later."
"Or we could save ourselves a lot of aggravation and just stop now." Ray shook his head, unable to get rid of the vision of the blond, tears streaming down his face as he reached through the bars of that cage.
"No one ever asks what happens to the prince," Franz commented quietly.
"What?"
"You know, in the fairy tales? It's all about rescuing the princess, but when it's over all we're told is that they lived happily ever after. They never tell us how. What happens when the princess doesn't need to be rescued anymore? Does the prince become a bureaucrat, pushing papers and signing decrees, all the while thinking about his daring exploits? Does he then go back to the princess and make small talk at parties? How does he stand it?"
"He can't spend his whole life rescuing princesses. He's got more important things to do. As long as he loves her, it should be enough."
"But does he love her? And does she love him, or is it just gratitude? Princes aren't necessarily smart just because they are royalty. You ought to know that. What happens if he loves the danger rather than the princess?"
"He doesn't."
"How does he know?"
"How does anyone know? But he can't keep looking for people to rescue his entire life just because he knows what it's like to want to be rescued. "
"It must be lonely, being a prince," Franz observed quietly.
"I suppose," Ray conceded. "And I suppose some princes are fools."
"Then again, some have excellent instincts." Franz stood and placed a hand on Ray's shoulder. "And concerned friends."
"Lucky prince," Ray responded, watching the reflection in the window as Franz left the room.
XXXXX
Ray had inherited the family mansion along with its contents and staff when his grandfather passed away. He was rarely there while he'd been in school, only visiting occasionally or staying when school was on break. In the last week he'd had most of his belongings moved back and soon he would live there full-time.
He surveyed the rooms with different eyes as he walked through the house. He wondered how it would look to his houseguest. There was a suite on the second floor that would be perfect for the blond. It wasn't as large and well appointed as some of the other rooms, but it was in the back of the house and had large windows that looked out over the garden. It got the morning sun and he had a feeling that the blond would like it.
"He'll be here early tomorrow, so I want the house ready. Ray was instructing his long-time servant and friend, Laila. He'd known her since his youth and she'd been his devoted follower all that time. She was somewhat lacking in domestic abilities but he had staff that assisted her with things like that. He trusted them to get the work done.
"He must be quite a person to have caught your attention like this. There was a bit of an edge in her voice but she returned the smile Ray gave her.
"He is. You'll like him, Laila. I know you will."
She nodded with a smile and hurried off to make sure the rooms were ready for the new arrival.
XXXXX
Florian stared at the tangle of leather strips that Toulouse was holding out to him. He had no idea what he was supposed to do with the item so he just stared at it.
"Come on, come on. Put it on so we can get started. You've got be to be trained and there's not much time. You wouldn't want to disappoint the master would you?”
Florian shook his head slowly, completely confused. Trained for what? He finally accepted the leather thing and was turning it over trying to puzzle it out when Toulouse threw open the doors to an ornate wooden wardrobe.
"Now then…" he murmured, surveying the array of items. Behind him, Florian gasped and staggered at the array of items he hadn't even imagined. One door held nothing but an array of whips while the other held various restraints and inside the cabinet...
Florian dropped into a chair, blood quickly draining from his face. He clutched the leather item, suddenly realizing it was something he was expected to wear. And those… things in the cabinet. Their purpose was clear even to someone as inexperienced as him.
"What's wrong?" Toulouse demanded, moving close to the wide-eyed blond. "Are you ill?"
"You're frightening him, Toulouse," Azura's voice was mild but there was a hint of threat behind it. He moved across the room, firmly closing the cabinet before moving to kneel beside Florian.
"Toulouse misunderstood." Azura spoke soothingly. "Such things are not meant for someone like you, my dear. I treasure your innocence." He leaned in and placed a soft kiss on Florian's forehead. "I will teach you gently, with my own hands."
He waved Toulouse away and the man went quickly, knowing he would be punished later for making such a mistake. He closed the door behind him and let the couple be alone.
"Come, walk with me in the garden. The air will strengthen you."
Florian smiled weakly, color returning to his face. He accepted Azura's hand and allowed him to guide them out into the garden leaving that wardrobe and its terrifying contents behind. Although the vision of those items wouldn't be forgotten so easily.
XXXXX
Florian was confused. He'd caught glimpses of Azura that had frightened him, but he didn't really know the green-eyed Count much better. What if he wanted the same thing?
Still something inside Florian told him to trust the younger man, so when the clock struck three a.m., Florian was standing, waiting with his meager belongings tucked into a pillowcase. The clothes from Zildler would be left behind. Only the gifts he received from Azura were his and he would give them to his mother to help keep the family home.
The ring he'd slipped on to his finger yesterday still rested there. He'd take it off once he was safely in his new home.
"Ready?" Ray asked as he swung easily in through the elephant's window.
Florian smiled and nodded, holding up his pillowcase. "Yes."
With one last glance around to be sure he had everything, Florian followed Ray out of the window. He followed the dark-haired man carefully as they swung down to the ground, landing lightly, fully aware of how sound carried. They had barely taken half a dozen steps when three figures emerged from the shadows under the elephant.
"Going somewhere?" Zidler asked, his tone heavy with anger. He hated to be shown up in front of one of his richest clients. And he really hated that he'd had to promise that little weasel Solomon Sugar that he'd produce his play before the man had agreed to tell when Florian was going to try and escape.
"I…” Florian shrank back into himself for a moment, but then he straightened his back, drew all his resolve together and stepped forward. "Yes. I've been given a chance to have my life back – a life that doesn't require that I sell myself. And I'm taking it. You have my gratitude, Monsieur Zidler, but not my future."
Ray was beside him now, giving his strength. They held hands tightly and Ray watched, wary not only of Zidler, but more so of his old friend.
"I thought I'd seen you, Ray," Azura said mildly, stepping forward. He moved close to the pair, his eyes on Florian but unreadable. He reached out and took Florian's chin in his hand studying the amethyst depths for something. After a moment he smiled and stepped back. "I should congratulate you, Ray, on winning such a fine prize. He mock-bowed to the man and snapped his fingers. Toulouse, who had remained in the shadows now stepped forward into the light carrying a heavy chest.
"For you, my pretty Amethyst. Consider it a gift for the bride." He held up a hand to stop the protest. "I won't be refused. Take it." He narrowed his eyes at them for a moment, and then smiled. Before Florian could move or Ray could protest, Azura leaned in and claimed Florian's mouth in a hard kiss. He held it for a long moment before slowly breaking the contact and backing away. "You've ruined him, Ray. You've sold him a fairy tale. How cruel." He half-bowed to the confused pair before motioning to Zidler. "I've given you the agreed price. Let them go. It's too early for all this drama." He cast one last look back at the pair, just watching them for a moment before turning away.
The men disappeared into the club while Toulouse followed. Solomon stared after them before turning to watch as Florian and Ray leaned against each other, the heavy chest in their hands keeping them from doing anything more. He burned with anger as the blond lifted his face for a kiss and the dark-haired Count leaned down to comply.
They didn't even notice Solomon as they walked away towards the street where Ray had left his carriage waiting to transport them to the home they would now share.
XXXXX
Solomon clutched the flawed, heart-shaped ruby, his anger flaring. There was no card, but he knew it was a message from Florian's precious Count – a reminder of how Solomon had tried to betray them. If only Azura hadn't…
Well damn them. Damn them both.
He dropped into his chair and slammed the stone down on the scarred wooden desk next to the second-hand typewriter. He glared at the blank page waiting for inspiration to strike.
He'd show them. He wasn’t a high and mighty aristocrat, but he was smart. He'd sell the ruby they’d sent; it wouldn’t bring a fortune but he’d be comfortable for a while. He’d use the time to write, to show them what Solomon Sugar was made of.
That’s it! He’d take their precious fairy tale and make it a tragedy. He’d gain his fame and fortune by turning their happiness into misery.
In his story, the hero would be a poor but honest writer, done wrong by a Count… No, too obvious. A Duke! The singer would be… not an innocent little blond, but an experienced – very experienced – redhead. Female of course, take that, Florian! And after overcoming hardships and self-sacrifice, they'd finally be together only to have her die, painfully, in his arms. With the little tart gone, the tragic but noble writer would tell their story and become a hero.
Perfect.
With a laugh, Solomon flexed his fingers and began to type.
END