Chapter Twenty-One – Fleeting
Something indeed needed to be said about Veridien's complex layout, because Lawrence wouldn't have guessed in a million years where else another garage would be located. A disused carriage hall served as the hiding place for the Golden Circle's best-preserved – with the knowledge of the faculty, of course – secret. At its end, the outward path sloped into the rock below and then into the street, right where it bent out of view if someone were to look that way from the main road. The exit passage was only wide enough to allow one vehicle to pass, making any emergency escape challenging in terms of organization and efficiency.
The low ceiling gave the place a claustrophobic effect. Although he didn't need to stoop, Lawrence felt a strange pressure on his shoulders and the top of his head. The old stone smell was more present here than in the inner courtyard, and the few bulbs, protected by latticed armatures, barely gave enough light to see others' faces.
"Extraordinary car, Anton," Lawrence said, taking in the straight, aggressive lines of the Countach.
Anton was leaning against it, his ankles crossed. He wore a light cashmere sweater – not academy-issued, it seemed – and black dress pants. To Lawrence's surprise, Anton smiled at the praise. "Bastien told me you wanted to see it. Get in."
Lawrence liked to believe that he didn't have too many weaknesses to count, but during childhood, collecting miniature toy cars had been his favorite hobby, and, like any other kid, he'd often dreamed of driving the real thing.
Of course, his adult self was well aware of such impossibilities. That didn't stop him from feeling less excited as Anton pushed the scissor door upward and gestured at him to get inside.
His considerable height convinced him, in that moment, that his childhood dreams would be impractical. There was definitely no elegance in how he had to squeeze himself into the driver's seat.
The first sensation he experienced as soon as the door closed with a firm, expensive thud was how close the ceiling was. The Countach's angular design gave the driver the acute feeling that they were the only ones who mattered, the passenger only an afterthought.
Anton climbed beside him and began pointing at the panels, talking quickly. Lawrence only half-listened, too busy taking in the faint smell of fuel and the smooth leather chair hugging him, but did his minimal due diligence to ask questions from time to time. This was likely the closest he'd ever come to what a racing driver might feel. Or a very rich person.
"So, what's your verdict?" Anton finished his dissertation.
Lawrence grinned. "It feels better than I imagined. Much better." He let his fingers hover over the dashboard without touching it, admiring the panel's military precision.
"Well, I'd love to have you as my passenger, but Bastien informed me you'll ride with him. His manner was quite off-putting, which makes me believe he will hold a grudge if I steal you. As would Abelard, for different reasons." Anton laughed. "Maybe you'll ride with me another time."
Who knew Anton could so unabashedly like something? Lawrence had to admit he sympathized. Yet, he was still forced to endure Anton's grating chuckle as he had to show Lawrence how to get out of the dangerous contraption.
Lawrence felt the need to stretch his spine once he was out. "Say, Anton, do you often let Abelard drive?"
Anton seemed surprised by the question. "Not really, no. Not because I wouldn't let him," he added quickly. "He's simply not very fond of driving."
Had the taxi driver confused himself somehow? It was possible, and definitely a car like the Lamborghini Anton drove would more likely make a much longer-lasting impression than its driver.
"I'm sure he has his strengths," he quipped.
Anton seemed to appreciate the banter. However, his grin turned into a subdued smile as Abelard walked toward them.
"It's late," Anton's subordinate complained. He huddled himself in his coat, like an old person forced out of their bed in the middle of the night. "Must we do this?" He gave Lawrence a sidelong glance that conveyed his feelings without naming them aloud. However, Lawrence understood that he was to blame for their planned Saturday evening escape.
"You don't have to come. Lawrence would love to join me," Anton said, his smile thinning.
Abelard shrugged his shoulders as if he needed to get rid of a chill. "I do want to come."
"Is it your stomach again?" Lawrence asked.
The venomous look Abelard threw him made him aware of his blunt tone, the same that, in the past, had been the culprit for other, quite numerous misunderstandings.
"Sorry, not my business," he added quickly. "But I promise not to ride with Anton, even if you decide not to come along."
"As if such a thing would bother me in the slightest," Abelard replied, his nostrils flaring.
Lawrence decided against continuing to tease Anton's pet dog. He had better things to do, even though asking his next question didn't exactly qualify as one of them. "Do you often have health trouble?"
"It's really none of your business," Abelard said through his teeth.
Lawrence nodded. "Of course."
He was about to turn on his heel when Abelard said, "It will pass. I wasn't born with it."
In other words, I am not weak. Words to be written on Veridien's coat of arms. Or maybe the academy would prefer a positive affirmation instead. I am strong, unshakable.
And sometimes, I turn up dead.
"I hope you'll feel better soon," he offered politely.
Bastien, who was flanked by the Martel twins, gestured him to join them. His car, a silver Porsche that looked like it would barely accommodate all of them, had its doors open, waiting for its driver and passengers.
It fit Bastien. Slick, beautiful, but not as aggressive and dangerous as Anton's Countach. Or Norris's Testarossa. As much as Lawrence wanted to check that one, too, he knew he shouldn't have Bastien wait for him longer than necessary. It wasn't only a matter of politeness, but one of need. Whatever doubts had plagued him before regarding the beautiful Hawthorne heir, they were now gone from his mind.
Felix was busy helping Bastien fasten his driving gloves over his wrists. Lawrence's eyes lingered on the pale skin peeking from under the cuffs of Bastien's jacket. It was uncanny how many things and details he noticed just by staring at the Sun King for mere moments.
Bastien flexed his hands, his knuckles barely visible through the perforated design. The motion, the way he moved his fingers, was what mattered. Had he been born with such elegance, or was it the result of a thorough upbringing?
Lawrence couldn't say that he knew or cared. He wanted to take Bastien's hands and kiss his knuckles, just as he had wanted, much to his surprised dread, to kiss the main suspect moments after they had barely met.
He wouldn't – couldn't – call it sex. It was more disturbing in the same way that a lack of familiarity could increase the excitement of a new adventure.
Or by driving a new, fast car.
"Do you drive, Lawrence?" Bastien asked, probably noticing his interest in the vehicle.
"I do."
"I'd like to see you behind the wheel."
"Now?" Lawrence asked, disconcerted, mainly because Bastien had been getting ready to be their driver for the last few minutes.
"No. But another time for sure. Unless you're too much in love with Anton's car."
Playful jealousy – it was a good name for Bastien's performance, and it made Lawrence smile.
"Are we ready?" Norris called. He was already at the wheel of his Ferrari, revving the engine and making Viv, his passenger, laugh and clap loudly.
"What about Eldric?" Lawrence asked.
"He prefers more intellectual pursuits," Bastien said. "And we've learned not to pester him about it."
***
Lawrence couldn't say he was surprised to see Anton hurrying to get out first, immediately and too closely followed by Norris, while Bastien started the engine with clean, measured movements. In the back, Felix and Ali seemed to have a harder time adjusting to each other in such a cramped space than when they were in the womb. They kicked Lawrence's seat a couple of times, huffed and complained, making Bastien smile apologetically when they traded a glance.
He didn't look ahead as they rolled into the street. He preferred to remain turned in his seat and watch Bastien.
"What is it, Sir Galahad?" Bastien asked playfully, as his steady hands turned the wheel slowly and the car followed his rein with a low, steady hum.
"You've done this many times."
"Of course. You're safe with me. I have years of experience."
"Good to know, but I wasn't interested in hearing about that."
"Oh. What were you doing, then?"
Lawrence hid his grin by turning his head away and taking in the academy slipping past with its tall spires and solitary lit windows here and there. Weird. He felt as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders as they left Veridien behind and Bastien accelerated slowly.
"I was looking at you," Lawrence confessed.
A collective, impudent 'aww' emerged from the backseat, reminding him that they weren't alone.
"Larry, you incorrigible flirt," Ali teased him.
"He is laying it on rather thick," his twin chimed in. "Seriously, Lawrence."
"You two, that's quite enough," Bastien scolded them, but it was easy to hear the smile in his stern admonishment. "Spare him."
"Will you spare him, Rose Bud?" Ali, always the sharp tongue, asked.
"That depends," Bastien said, his voice light, but his smile full of meaning. "A true knight-errant knows his own worth."
Was that a way of saying that Bastien was giving him free rein in initiating later seduction? Obviously, Bastien knew where things were going after Lawrence had told him to check his coat pocket.
"Where are we going?" Lawrence asked. "The people from the village don't seem that crazy about your lot. Not all of them, of course. Certain ladies would love to see you again."
"That would be too boring," Ali said quickly. "We'll drive until we find the best disco in the land."
"No," Bastien corrected him. "We'll first find a place to dine properly. A life of deprivation dulls the soul."
"Ugh," Ali complained. "Can I at least have a drink? You know, alcohol?"
"You know you're never at your best when you indulge, Alistair," Bastien said.
The road wound before them, and Bastien's Porsche followed the sinuous path with graceful ease. The tailgate lights from Norris's car acted as their guide in the dark.
"How are we supposed to attend social functions once we're out of Veridien?" Ali asked. "All this purity of body and soul is spirit-shattering."
"You will drink your fair share," Bastien assured his childhood friend. "But I'd rather not get in trouble with the Rector for your sake again."
Again? For all they pretended to be estranged, it looked like Bastien was still looking out for Ali. Not so great actors, after all, but they were entertaining to watch.
"I will make sure he doesn't have a drop," Felix said.
"Jailer," Ali accused his brother.
"Neither of us will drink," Bastien said in the suffering tone of a parent who needed to reinforce the same rule over and over.
"Because you drive," Ali pointed out. "But the rest of us, reckless passengers--"
"Reckless passengers," Bastien huffed. "Having to regurgitate your meal, while wailing that you will surely die, should be the sort of experience you wouldn't want a repeat of, Ali."
"Yes, that comes after. But first, you fly," Ali argued and tried to stretch his arms wide, as impossible a task as that was.
"Stop it," his twin hissed at him. "There's barely any room in here without your antics."
"You know, I used to like you, Fifi."
Lawrence had to hide his laughter by covering his mouth. Although Felix appeared to share some of Ali's quirky personality, he was the sterner twin. He couldn't picture an adult Felix enjoying being called Fifi.
***
Out of their uniforms, the members of the Golden Circle looked like a group of rich kids in search of ways to enjoy a fun Saturday night. Lawrence wondered briefly how out of place he looked, since it had to be visible from space that they belonged to a different wealth bracket than he. It didn't last long. Marius Vassier had made sure that he had at least a few smart pieces himself, so he didn't look like their poor relative they were taking along out of pity.
The place was blinding with its large chandeliers, sparkling white plates on the tables, and people laughing, showing perfect teeth. Being undercover meant being able to adapt, even to situations like dining in a luxury restaurant.
No matter how well Vassier and his uncle had prepared him for it, as he opened the menu after the maître d' led them to a table, he quickly realized he would most likely depend on his companions' kindness to cover the cost of the meal.
Bastien wrapped one arm around his chair and leaned in. "Order everything you wish. And don't worry. Our dear friends will soon start behaving like a little pack of pigs."
Lawrence quirked an eyebrow. Bastien's closeness made his chest feel tight. The Sun King wore a pale blue dress shirt, its first buttons undone, which, astonishingly, didn't make his appearance look less put together. It gave Lawrence the opportunity to sneak a look at the aristocratic pale throat; his fantasies included certain desires regarding it. He wasn't the kind to mark his territory, but his teeth tingled, nonetheless.
"These prices are giving me a headache," he admitted, not wanting to hide or pretend that it was all right to abuse Bastien's generosity.
Bastien took the menu from him and closed it. "Do you trust me to order for you?" He sweetened his offer with a smile.
He couldn't resist that. "Sure. You seem pretty good at guessing what I like. Though I doubt we can count on Esperanza and her willingness to cover for us here."
Bastien laughed. A strand of hair escaped his perfectly combed hair, making him look young and attractive, someone without the burdens the Hawthorne heir had to endure.
Lawrence moved his eyes away. If he continued to do this, to indulge in staring at Bastien all the time, he would start wanting to kiss him again.
It was ridiculous. He needed Bastien to figure out what happened to Lukas, and if he had a modicum of shame, he'd stop. Instead of running away, he was doing the opposite. Could attraction turn dangerous? Ali was so certain Bastien had loved Lukas more than what he received in reciprocation. When the Sun King didn't receive the usual adulation, did he turn from a beautiful prince into a witch?
Across the table, Abelard was sipping from a small medicine bottle, making faces. He must have felt Lawrence's stare because he grimaced and made the bottle disappear in his breast pocket. "It's for my stomach," he said defensively, and Lawrence nodded in understanding.
A waiter showed Anton a bottle of wine that looked expensive and, with sure moves, began pouring its contents into glasses after the customer's approval.
Bastien refused gracefully, and Lawrence did the same, covering his glass. "Only sparkling water if you have it," he said.
"Of course we do," the waiter responded, affronted by such an uncanny supposition about their establishment. "Does the gentleman have a preference?"
Bastien intervened. "The same as I'm having." He angled his face to stare at Lawrence. "You're not driving. You may drink to your heart's content."
"Alcohol dulls the senses," Lawrence replied, pressing his lips together to keep himself from smiling. He probably looked like an idiot around Bastien.
"Some would say that it helps you feel more," Bastien said in a pleasant tone.
"I prefer to feel everything as it's meant to be experienced," Lawrence said smoothly, quickly catching on.
Bastien caught his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment. "I like you, Bear. Have I told you that?"
"A couple of times. Each time, it feels as good as hearing it the first time," Lawrence offered, using all the gallantry he didn't possess.
Bastien laughed softly, exposing his throat again, showing no signs of self-preservation.
"I thought you wouldn't let the others drink."
"I'm a bit of an indulgent ruler," Bastien said. "There are so few pleasures we're normally allowed. If Herr Becker knew where we are right now, he would start writing long letters to our families."
"I would be shaking in my boots if I were you."
"You'd be within your rights to do so. We'd receive tough reprimands for our behavior, and we'd have our driving privileges revoked for the rest of the year. But what is life without a dash of recklessness?" Although he was still joking, Bastien had stopped smiling. His eyes drifted, and the corners of his mouth fell.
What could have reminded him of Lukas? Lawrence doubted other reasons would top a lover's death when it came to such disposition changes.
"Let's enjoy ourselves for one night," Bastien suggested, straightening in his chair. "If I remember correctly, you made quite a daring overture earlier." He smiled again when he looked at Lawrence. "I will keep you to it."
***
In the end, Ali imposed his will on the group, and after dinner – both delicious and fulfilling – their next destination was a swanky disco tucked away in a back alley, crowded with young people in expensive clothes. Anton took it upon himself to get the entire group to the front of the line. It was for the best, presumably, that they hadn't stopped in Waldwilen tonight. Here, no one knew them, and the eclectic crowd didn't pay them excessive attention. Anton's discreet bribe gained them access quickly, and they began to disappear inside the dark cavern from which music pulsed, beckoning.
Lawrence was about to follow when Bastien caught his sleeve and pulled him back.
"If you'd rather go dancing," he said, without adding anything else.
It took Lawrence only a moment to step out of the queue and join Bastien on the sidewalk. The back of their hands brushed lightly as they walked together without saying a word. Ali might be disappointed once he discovered his partner had abandoned him, but he was the understanding type.
Bastien took them back to the car. They drove in silence, climbing a winding path that led to a ridge sunken in darkness. When they got out, Lawrence walked to the edge, eager to see the glittering lights of the town at their feet. The gravel scrunched underneath his feet, the only sound in the chilly night.
He didn't react when Bastien hugged him from behind. "Am I asking for too much?"
"You haven't asked for anything yet."
"It feels wrong… to use you."
Lawrence chuckled. "Is Veridien supposed to make a politician out of you, Bastien? They are doing a really bad job. By now, you should be ruthless and lie as you breathe."
"And how do you know I'm not doing that?"
"I don't," Lawrence admitted plainly. It was pitch dark, but his eyes were adapting. They were close to the top of the ridge, and the abyss below opened like a maw that made its presence known by the harsher wind that swirled around the bushes down the slope.
"You are… intriguing me, Sir Galahad. If I didn't know how you kiss, I'd think you're giving me the cold shoulder."
"That only means that you're not paying close attention. I gravitate toward you like everyone else, Helios."
He hadn't meant for his secret nickname for Bastien to slip, but he wouldn't take it back.
"Helios? Is that how you see me?"
"You're kind and warm. But getting too close might lead to severe burns."
Bastien hugged him tightly and rested his head between Lawrence's shoulder blades. "I have no intention of hurting you."
Who did you hurt, Bastien?
"It is not entirely up to you. We're worlds apart," Lawrence said. "This… is fleeting. And I know it. Stop worrying."
"Will you kiss me then?"
Lawrence turned. Bastien didn't protest when Lawrence hiked him up and laid him on the hood of his car.
Then he did the thing he'd wanted to do all evening. He found Bastien's lovely throat and sank his teeth into it. The sharp intake of breath from his partner was a mix of surprise and relief. He hadn't been the only one waiting for this moment.
Bastien's fingers dug into the back of his neck, pulling him closer. They kissed like it was the end of the world, and this fleeting moment was all they'd ever have.
TBC