Chapter Sixteen

For someone who had begged for a hearing, Cassian didn't start talking at once. Daizell didn't hurry him; he didn't want to listen. He felt miserable and harried and haunted, and Cassian had put all those feelings there.

Maybe he had something to say that would take them away. Maybe not.

Daizell pulled his hand free, because he didn't need to be touching. Cassian took that hint, rising and pulling over the other chair so they faced each other across the table with its cut paper and scissors.

Cassian took a deep breath, visibly steeling himself. ‘All right. First, the bet. I made it with my cousin Leo as an excuse to get away without attendance and find my ring. I told you all that. What I didn't say is that I wanted, needed to stop being Severn for a while. That's why I made the assignation with Martin in the first place. I needed, just for a little while, not to be a duke.'

‘What's wrong with being a duke?'

‘I wouldn't know,' Cassian said. ‘I don't know about being anything else. My father died when I was six. Before that I was Harmsford, the courtesy title, and when he died, I became Severn. I haven't been called by my first name in my life. Not that I like my name, but I have been Severn and only Severn almost since I can remember. The only people who ever played with me as a normal child were my cousins. The whole world puts me at a distance because of my position. I have friends, of course, but as Severn. My uncle has spent two decades grooming me to be Severn, him and my valet and everyone around me, always saying Severn must do this and that, Severn is obliged, Severn may not lower himself. Severn, Severn, Severn. That's my whole purpose in life: to fill a Severn-shaped hole. I don't suppose I do it well, but nobody asked me if I wanted to do it at all. And it is a very luxurious, privileged hole, far better than the holes most people find themselves in. Nobody asked you if you wanted to be George Charnage's son any more than they asked me to be Severn's, and clearly I had the preferable lot in life. But it's stifling all the same.'

He looked up then, as if expecting an interruption. Daizell didn't have anything to offer. Dukedom wasn't a problem he'd ever considered, and he was fairly sure he'd prefer it to his own troubles, but Cassian was speaking with unusual urgency, venting something he'd been holding on to for a while.

‘So, you wanted to get away?' Daizell tried.

‘Cabined, cribb'd, confined. I needed to be not-Severn, just for a little while. That was when Martin approached me – and he didn't know who I was, he wasn't carefully respecting me. I had, or thought I had, one evening where I was being judged on my own merits and found satisfactory. Well, that went poorly. I felt useless, worse than useless. Held up by the scaffolding of my privilege, Leo said, and he was right, and I thought, if I don't find a way to – to carve a space for myself, Severn is going to close in around me until all that's left is the scaffolding. All outside and no inside. I don't know if I'm explaining this very well, but . . . I wanted to be someone who wasn't Severn so very much, just for a little while, to see. And then I met you, and I was . Oh, goodness, Daize.' He rubbed a hand over his face. ‘You didn't treat me as the Duke, or carefully not treat me as the Duke, which is worse. I was Cassian with you for the first time in my life. Nobody's ever called me that before. I never dared ask anyone to.'

‘What? Why not?'

‘Because—' Cassian's mouth moved, then he picked up the paper on the table. Daizell had cut the caricature in one piece without any further snipping, so the surrounding excess paper might have formed a hollow cut except for the one long snip for access. Cassian put that sheet down so the wood of the table formed the magistrate's profile. ‘Look. This is Severn, or at least, something that makes a Severn-shape. And this is Cassian.' He put down the inside cut, the solid image, next to the other piece. ‘One is the opposite of the other, and I don't know how to be both at once. I've always tried to be Severn as well as I could but that didn't allow any space for Cassian, because – well, I've seen you make a hollow cut. When you do it properly, you start by destroying the inside part of the paper, don't you? You pierce a hole in the inside and cut it all away bit by bit, to make the perfect unsullied outside shape.'

‘Cass—'

‘Only, you don't have to.' Cassian sounded urgent, almost feverish. ‘You showed me that. I want to be . . .' He gestured at the hollow cut on the table, with its surrounding paper cut just once, otherwise intact. ‘It isn't quite perfect, it's a little bit damaged, but it's almost right. There's an outside and an inside and they both work, and that's what you gave me. When you saw me, and listened to me, and expected me to do a good job of things. You didn't have any Severn-shape at all, you just saw Cassian, and I didn't want to change that. I couldn't bear to lose it, and if I'd told you, I would have. And, as you pointed out, all I was thinking about there was myself. It was selfish and deceptive and unfair to you. I know that. But I liked who I was with you. Who you were, and who I was, and what we had together. I liked it so much, and – and every day we had together helped make Cassian into a real person.'

‘You are a real person.'

‘Cassian wasn't. He didn't even have a name.' Cassian swallowed. ‘And then I was, and I could be, because of you, and if I'd told you the truth that would have ruined it.' He tried a smile. ‘My uncle likes to say, if the truth shames you, the fault lies with you, not with the truth.'

Daizell wasn't so sure of that. There were lots of things one could be ashamed of that weren't one's fault. ‘You can't help being a duke.'

‘But my silence was for my benefit, at your expense. And that was dreadful of me for all sorts of reasons – cowardly and dishonest, but also ungrateful. Because you're wonderful, Daize.' His rainswept eyes were wide and intent. ‘I don't think you know how wonderful you are. How much you care, how kind you are, how ridiculously tolerant and loving and practical and ingenious, and accepting . That most of all. I've never in my life been myself as I have been with you. And you didn't do all that because I'm Severn; you did it because you're Daizell. So wonderfully, perfectly Daizell. And I wished I could just travel with you forever and keep you company and see if I could make you as happy as you make me.'

‘But you couldn't,' Daizell said, voice thick. ‘Because you are Severn, and you always had to go home.'

‘Yes,' Cassian said. ‘And also no. Because you found out, and I went to see my cousins, and they were saying – oh, things about what Severn could do and who he could associate with, as usual, and I realised that I can't have two separate lives.'

Daizell set his jaw. ‘Is that not what I said at the beginning?'

‘No. Because the point is, I need to be . . .' He moved the inside cut, dropping it into the empty outline, filling the gap. ‘Not Severn with Cassian as a guilty secret, and not Cassian playing a game of pretend that he isn't Severn. Cassian must be Severn, but Severn has to be Cassian as well , for purpose and humanity and living. I realise I'm talking about myself in the third person as though I'm Julius Caesar, but do you see? I want a whole life. I want you in it, as my friend, my lover, my Daizell. As yourself. Because I could be myself with you and I think – I thought – you could be happy with me and I want you to be happy more than I can say. I know I didn't behave that way—'

‘You did,' Daizell said. ‘Except at the end, you did.'

‘I want to be happy with you,' Cassian whispered. ‘Or sad with you, or angry with you, but with you.' He swallowed. ‘If that's what you want, of course. If you don't, or not any more, I do understand. My position is going to make everything very tiresome, and I conducted myself appallingly, and I'm not terribly special other than being a duke. I know all of that. But I've spent the last three weeks falling quite desperately in love with you, and even if I have already ruined everything, I need you to know that I love you, I wish I hadn't hurt you, and when I did, it was never, never for something as foolish as a bet. I was hollow, and you let me be there. I want to be with you. So the only question is if you'd like to be with me.'

‘It's not the only question. I wish it was that easy.'

‘Do you? Really? Oh God, Daize. Please tell me I haven't spoiled everything and I swear I will make this easy, or at least possible. It has to be possible.' Cassian slid to his knees again, by the chair, urgently grasping Daizell's hands. ‘You're so generous and ridiculous and wonderful and – my good, my very good Daize.' He bowed his head over their joined hands. ‘I hurt you, and I missed you, and I love you.'

‘Cass.' Daizell whispered it. Cassian's hands tightened on his. ‘I missed you too. I wanted there to be something for us.'

‘There can be. There has to be.'

‘But what? I have to know. I need to. It's been so lonely and so pointless and I thought I had something with you—'

‘ Daize —'

‘I can't be thrown away again. I don't know why people find it so easy to throw me away.' He blurted that out, feeling the horrible childishness of it: the bewildered realisation that his mother cared only for his father, and his father for nobody at all. ‘My parents, and everyone I thought was my friend, and Martin, and then you – no, let me finish. I can't keep only mattering when other people care, because they always stop caring. I can't be disposable all my life.'

‘I don't want you to be!'

‘But if I can't see you or be seen with you, or visit you – what do you have in mind? That I should sit somewhere rural and wait for you to call when you're not busy with your dukedom?'

‘I'm not asking that at all. I want you with me, and I want you to have your life back. Surely we can manage that between us. I'm a duke, and you're brilliant.'

‘No, I'm not. I lurch from crisis to crisis and I ended up in gaol! What sort of companion is that for a duke?'

‘One that changed me,' Cassian said. ‘And you're entirely wrong. You tracked Martin down and got my ring back. You saved a child's life. You taught me how to negotiate the world and kept me safe when I was a hopeless greenhorn and came to save me when I was kidnapped—'

‘I got you kidnapped. You rescued yourself.'

‘You stole a horse to come to my rescue!' Cassian said indignantly, and then his mouth twitched. ‘Which perhaps was not entirely sensible. But I wouldn't have even thought to do something about being kidnapped before I met you. I only had a knife with me because I was copying you, and the way you deal with the situation in front of you. Not in that awful efficient way of bear-leaders – I had the most tiresome man on my Grand Tour, always sweeping in to make everything easy for me, and demonstrating how wonderfully competent he was all the time, which meant I never did a thing. You're not like that—'

‘No. I'm really not.'

‘Good!' Cassian said vehemently. ‘I don't want another person to run my life for me. I'm fighting off dozens of them as it is. I want to do things for myself, and I want to be myself, all of me, and I want you with me because if I tried to do it alone the castle walls would come pushing in again, and the duty and the ceremony, and my space to be Cassian would get smaller and smaller until I was squeezed to death. I need you to be the person who keeps the space clear and who doesn't let me hide away from the world, or disappear under a pile of ermine. When I was with you, I told stories in an inn and people laughed .'

‘I knew you loved that,' Daizell said, his heart aching like a bruise.

‘You showed me how. You looked so pleased with me, for me. I need you, Daize. I dare say I could manage on my own. Perhaps I could still be Cassian without you. But I don't want to.'

Daizell made a noise in his throat. Cassian let go his hands, grabbed his shoulders, and kissed him, and Daizell sank into the kiss, feeling tears running down his face, not caring.

He'd come back. He wanted more. They surely couldn't have more but he still wanted it, wanted Daizell, and that knowledge was everything. That knowledge plus Cassian in his arms again, the grip of his fingers, the urgency of his kiss.

They didn't speak as they stripped one another, Cassian pulling the gown off Daizell's shoulders, Daizell wrenching off Cassian's sadly battered cravat. There wasn't much to say, unless there was far too much, and the silence was soothing. Lips and fingers and skin could do the speaking for now.

Daizell pulled Cassian to the bed, laid him down, and lay with him, relishing the closeness as much as anything. He could simply have stayed there and held him, but Cassian's hands were roaming frantically, urgently, as though he needed to persuade himself Daizell was really there, and his need was contagious. Daizell hauled him round, so he lay on his back with Cassian over him, and Cassian crawled down his body, kissing his way as he went, and got his mouth to Daizell's prick.

‘Oh God,' Daizell said aloud, on a breath. ‘Cass. Please.'

Cassian had a clever mouth, he knew. They'd done this a couple of times, but he was giving it everything he had now, using lips and tongue and teeth and the roof of his mouth, sucking hard and soft, changing the pace as though he was trying to drive Daizell out of what passed for his mind, and by God it was working. The Duke of Severn, giving him the gamahuching of a lifetime. He'd got his fingers in Cassian's hair at some point, grabbing a handful, and Cassian's hands were hard on his hips, because he was only using his mouth, keeping this going for an agonisingly long time that passed far too fast. Daizell moaned and bucked under him, and spent in his mouth with sobs of pleasure that could all too easily have been the other kind.

Cassian stayed where he was crouching over him for a moment, then made his way back up the bed to pillow his head on Daizell's chest.

‘Really, you ought not be a duke,' Daizell said at last. ‘You should do that professionally.'

‘I try to please.' Cassian's head was heavy on him. ‘I'm not assuming I've been forgiven, by the way.'

‘You don't have to make anything up to me. I don't know if I understand what it's like to be you, but I heard what you said. I don't suppose there was ever a good moment to say By the way, I'm a duke . And I don't blame you if you weren't able to trust me, in your position.'

‘I did! I do . It wasn't that.'

‘Well, it should have been! You need to be more careful. What were you thinking, making assignations with someone like Martin? If he'd known who you were—'

‘You think he'd have blackmailed me?'

‘Not him, but someone like him might have tried it, and then where would you be?'

‘I know.' Cassian's head felt a little heavier on his chest as he said it. ‘That's why— Ugh.'

‘What?'

‘I never, before— I've only ever had, uh, paid companions. You know. An extremely discreet, very expensive brothel. It was better than nothing, of course. Probably. Actually it was awful. Not the people, they were very pleasant, but I went four times and every time I felt wretched afterwards. But it was all that was available because at least that way one could guarantee discretion.'

Daizell squinted down at the top of his head. ‘You couldn't just fuck an – well, not an equal, but at least an earl or some such?'

Cassian gave a laugh without mirth. ‘The opportunity has never arisen. For one thing, I'm Severn, and for another, I'm me.'

‘Rubbish. Don't say that.'

‘It's not false modesty. I know I'm not much to look at. I can't complain, given everything else I was born with.'

‘You're everything to look at. The problem is that people don't look,' Daizell said. ‘They don't see. Anyone who actually looked at you would see you're beautiful, and if they let your dukedom get in the way of that, they're a fool.'

Cassian raised his head at that, and the look in his yellow-grey eyes, the shape of his lovely, wistful mouth . . . Daizell pulled him up, and kissed him hard, and Cassian wrapped himself around him, clinging on. Daizell kissed his hair, his ear, anything that he could reach, and Cassian kissed his neck open-mouthed, hungry and urgent. ‘Daize. Lord. My good, my lovely Daize.'

Daizell knew that tone by now. ‘Talk to me,' he whispered. ‘Please.'

And Cassian did, so gentle, so loving, whispering endearments, taking it long and slow so that Daizell spent again, soothed and shivering and cherished, in his tight embrace.