— "My Young Lord, you are not yourself today! And I like it! I swear, it felt as though you wished to pierce me through!"
— "Forgive me, Sir."
— "Nonsense! I am glad at last to have stirred your fire. The main thing is that you do not outgrow me too swiftly, or I fear for my life!"
Alex forced a smile and laughed, though since yesterday he had felt a persistent heaviness. His parents' words had stirred waves of irritation within him, reminding him of his position and the bounds of his freedom. Today's fencing lesson had become a peculiar outlet for such feelings.
— "You know, I recall when you first came to me as a youth. You carried yourself with such reserve, as if nothing could breach your defenses. One could never tell what you were feeling. It pleases me, at last, to see you truly fierce. Curious… what has come over you today?"
— "Do not concern yourself, Sir. Just the ordinary troubles of someone my age."
— "Aha," the master drawled meaningfully. "And who is this lucky lady?"
— "Sir!" Alex snapped, clearly displeased at such a personal question.
Sir Bronte laughed heartily.
— "Oh, come now! I have known you for so many years that I think of you as a nephew. You may tell me your secret! I trust it is not Lady Ophelia?"
— "How could you even imagine such a thing about me!" Alex flared, his cheeks coloring slightly at the audacity of the suggestion.
— "Ah, save that mood for the next round! The Duke of Blackthorn is extraordinarily fortunate — at his age, to find such a brilliant match, and a childhood sweetheart, no less. You must be quite pleased for your best friend?"
Alex felt a small twinge of tension at the question.
— "Ophelia is a most admirable lady; the Duke is indeed fortunate to find a beloved among childhood companions. I believe he is deserving of such a brilliant match as well."
— "You befriended him after the Duke returned from his long travels, I believe?"
— "Yes. Why do you ask?"
— "You know, I was quite astonished to learn that my favourite pupil, who had kept himself so apart for so many years, had suddenly become friends with the recluse and eccentric Duke of Blackthorn. A miracle, indeed! I am sincerely glad for you, Young Lord. Life is infinitely harder without such true friends."
For the first time, Alex felt genuine irritation with Sir Bronte. His teacher knew of Nathan, yet the tone he used about him was somewhat dismissive. Alex recalled that his beloved and Christopher had once shared… feelings? He realized he did not know exactly what had bound them.
Did they do the same thing he does with me? What do I really know of his past?
He pushed these thoughts aside — it was clearly not the time.
— "Sir, I do not understand why you are spending so much time today talking about the Duke," Alex replied sharply.
— "Ah, Young Lord, spare me! I care for you, no more than that! I swear, I am genuinely pleased. It always seemed to me that you were far too lonely — whether among young ladies or the scoundrels of the gentlemen's club. I am certain the society of the Duke suits you far better," said Bronte with a sly smile, which only heightened Alex's irritation.
— "I have rested enough. Let us continue the lesson."
— "Ah, that fire in your eyes again! I hope you will not disappoint me!"
After the lesson, Alex felt utterly spent. He had indeed overdone it, allowing his anger to take control, and his body scarcely obeyed him. After such exertion, hardly any trace of his previous fury remained.
On parting, Sir Bronte tousled Alex's hair as usual.
— "I hope you bear me no ill will, Young Lord. Perhaps I was a touch bold at times, I admit. I did it intentionally, so you would perform well during the lesson. And it worked! I am very proud of you!" He patted his pupil on the back and took his leave.
The Young Lord somehow made it home, took a bath, and sat on his bed to gather his strength before visiting Nathan, whom he had not seen for days.
The Duke sat in his study, papers strewn about. It seemed the flood of bureaucratic work would never end; he would have to deal with the consequences of his absence for months to restore the estate's finances and ensure the lands were properly maintained. Yet solving one problem only unearthed three more.
A knock sounded at the door.
— "Come in," Nathan said, rubbing his tired eyes.
— "Am I intruding?" Alex asked timidly.
— "Not at all, come in. Though… wait. I can no longer stay here. Let's go downstairs. Perhaps you would like a walk? We could ride, or—"
— "Forgive me, I am not feeling my best, but I would gladly sit somewhere."
— "Did something happen?" Nathan asked, concern in his voice. He approached Alex and took him by the forearms.
— "No, no, I am fine. I merely overdid it during fencing today, almost delivering Sir Bronte a lethal blow," Alex said with a smile.
Nathan's smile faded.
— "Is that so? Then let us sit in the garden and have tea. Are you hungry?"
— "That would be delightful. I have eaten, thank you, but I would not refuse tea!"
As they descended the staircase, Alex began to lag slightly, his muscles sore from the morning's lesson. Nathan glanced back, alarm flickering in his eyes.
He had overdone it that badly?
Without a word, Nathan stepped forward, lifting Alex into his arms and carefully continuing down the stairs.
Alex gasped, clutching Nathan's neck.
— "Wait! I am heavy… you need not—"
Nathan smiled, calm and steady.
— "I could carry you all day."
Alex's cheeks flushed crimson, and he stammered:
— "N-no, you needn't!" Yet to claim he disliked being held in Nathan's arms would have been a lie.
Once seated in the garden, the Duke looked at him intently.
— "What drove you to attempt lethal blows on Sir Bronte today?"
— "Ah… I was angry after speaking with my parents…"
Alex recounted the promenade and the conversation the next morning. Nathan listened quietly, his expression tinged with sadness.
— "It irritates me the most when Father says it is God who sent me this fate, and therefore I must follow it! Sometimes I think God was invented by parents who could not compel their children to obey!"
— "A plausible theory, indeed." Nathan smiled faintly.
Alex hesitated for a moment, then asked quietly,
— "Nathaniel… What is your view on God?"
— "We do not get along very well."
— "And what does that mean?"
— "I believe you know that God loves all His sons and daughters, merciful and forgiving. Yet when it comes to those who follow His will and love with all their heart, they are condemned to burn in the fiery Gehenna, claimed as sodomites. Should I ever stand before this so-called God, I would look him in the eye and ask why he decided thus."
Alex had never heard anyone speak of God with such disdain. He had never truly considered Nathan's words until now.
— "Perhaps it is not God who mistakes, but the people interpreting Him?" Alex asked timidly.
— "I hope so. Otherwise, God is far too cruel and merciless."
Alex gazed into the distance, deep in thought.
— "Perhaps we should meet with Ophelia and devise a new plan?"
— "Perhaps…"
— "Alex?"
— "Yes?"
Nathan knelt before him.
— "God or not, it matters little now. So Sir Bronte merely struck a nerve?"
Alex smiled faintly, placing a hand on Nathan's cheek and tracing the skin with a finger.
— "Not exactly… He provoked me and made me—"
— "Made you what?" Nathan's face hardened immediately.
— "He just spoke oddly. I was already vexed, and then he expressed surprise that 'his favorite pupil,' who had been solitary for so many years, had suddenly befriended a recluse and eccentric Duke."
Alex unconsciously clenched the hands resting on his knees and looked away.
— "It irritates me that people presume to speak of you in such a manner!"
Nathan's expression grew dark, though it was not Bronte's words that wounded him. Hearing Bronte call Alex his favorite pupil made the Duke feel a pang of irritation.
— "And what was your connection with Bronte?"
Nathan raised an eyebrow.
— "I already told you."
— "Yes, but what exactly was between you? When he said that, I wondered… Did you do the same as you do with me? You have that experience, and I know nothing of your past."
— "I have nothing to tell you, Alex," Nathan replied curtly, rising.
The Duke had never addressed the Young Lord so sharply before. Alex wavered, afraid to press further, not wishing to anger Nathan more. Yet he could not understand why he felt such unease and longed to know the reason. Summoning his courage, Alex asked:
— "Nathaniel, are you angry with me?"
— "What? No, of course not," he said, speaking over his shoulder, avoiding Alex's gaze.
— "Then why are you upset?"
— "I am not upset. I simply do not wish to speak of it."
— "But you said you wanted honesty…"
— "It's not the time, Alex." Nathan interrupted.
The Young Lord felt a pang of irritation that the Duke did not abide by his own principle. It struck him deeply, and for the first time, he wished to be alone. Rising, he began walking away from the estate.
— "Alex, where are you going?"
— "I wish to walk alone."
Nathan watched him leave, then sank into a chair, covering his face with his hands.
***
An hour later, as Alex returned to the estate, he noticed Nathan standing at the garden gate, waiting.
He was still irritated. The walk had done little to calm him; if anything, it had only allowed him to dwell more deeply on the frustrations of recent events. The Young Lord intended to pass by in silence, but Nathan caught his hand to stop him.
— "Let me go."
— "Please… wait a moment," Nathan's voice was almost pleading, so vulnerable that Alex froze. "Forgive me."
The Young Lord, still holding onto his lingering resentment, frowned.
— "For what?"
— "For not having the courage to be entirely honest and open with you… and for failing to confront my past, which is far less virtuous than one might imagine."
Alex's chest tightened, and he remained silent, waiting to hear what Nathan would say next.