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•

For some reason Christopher had trouble deciding what to do with his hands during the presentation. He never thought about it until now. It wasn’t like he hadn’t done it before. But it was the first time he actually cared about something else besides the information he had to present.

Grace seemed very calm. Like she was doing a presentation that was half of her grade every day.

Heartbreaker, Matthew had said. Someone who couldn’t stay with one guy even if her life depended on it. Christopher had always thought his friend was too hard. It wasn’t like she cheated on them or used the guys. Actually, he hadn’t seen her with a boyfriend for quite some time but the rumors were so wild her reputation was only growing. People liked to see whatever they wanted to see, Christopher thought.

“However,” Grace picked up where Kit stopped. “The problem has a long history, dating from the ‘60s. It’s only recently that the effects have become more visible...”

Christopher allowed himself to relax. It was the last part of the presentation and it was Grace’s. He trusted her that she'd do it well.

When her voice faded and there were no more slides left, Christopher looked at Mrs. Mitchell, their teacher. She looked pleased, he decided.

She turned to the class. “Do you have any questions for Christopher and Grace?”

Someone from behind shouted, “Are you two dating?”

The class started to whisper.

“That’s not relevant to-”

“The Heartbreaker had found her new conquest!” There were a few grins, mainly from the people in the back of the room. The class was openly giggling and giving them looks after a second.

“Maneater-”

“The nerd got corrupted!”

“The virgin and the slut-”

“Enough!” The voice of Mrs. Mitchell was sharp and loud. The class went quite really quickly. Even the people that shouted at them.

Christopher felt a little sick. He wasn’t ashamed he was a virgin or that he hadn’t had a girlfriend. He was simply… uncomfortable. Why everyone thought it’s their business to talk about other people’s sex life like that?

He glanced at Grace. She looked as uneasy as Christopher felt. She quickly hid it but he didn’t miss the shaking of her hands.

“It’s extremely rude to talk about other people like that,” Mrs. Mitchell said in a cold voice. “The people who shouted the comments must stay after class. And don’t even think of running away, I saw perfectly well every one of you. The rest of you are dismissed.”

Everyone started to pack their things and Grace and Christopher quietly did the same.

The teacher approached them and smiled lightly and apologingly. “You did an excellent job today. I see how much work you put into it.”

“Thank you,” Grace said as she picked up her backpack.

“Listen, kids,” Mrs. Mitchell said. “After a few months is the competition “Marie Curie” - explicitly for high schoolers. I want to form a team and I’m inviting you. You’re one of my best students and I see you both love chemistry. It would be great if you can join us.”

“Are you inviting us as a pair?” Kit said.

“No,” she said. “Every person in the team should have their own lab partner but even if only one of you joins, it would be okay. But you work really well together. I want you both in, pair or not,” she picked up her coffee from the desk. “Think about it. I’ll wait for an answer until the end of the week, okay?”

Grace and Christopher nodded. They left the classroom with the other students.

•

“Grace?”

Grace was sitting on the edge of the pavement, smoking. She glanced at Christopher who appeared to her. The classes were over but he had hoped she would still be around.

“Can I sit?”

“Sure.”

Christopher sat next to her, looking curiously at the cigarette in her hand.

“I didn’t know you smoked.”

“Sometimes,” she admitted, frowning at it. “I buy a box once in a while but barely can finish it for months.”

Christopher watched the building on the other side of the street. Grace put out her cigarette.

“What do you think about Mitchell’s offer?” he asked quietly.

Grace hesitated. “I don’t know. I…” She didn’t finish. Then she said, suddenly furious. “I just don't want to stand in front of these people and to be screamed what slut I am or how I’m too pretty to be good at chemistry. Or if we win, everyone will whisper how I cheated or my partner does all the work.”

Christopher frowned. “People do this?”

“More often than you think,” she snorted.

“This sucks,” he said, a sudden anger towards these people rising in his chest.

Grace shrugged but her face was stiff.

Kit felt insecure. The idea seemed reasonable at first but now it felt silly. He was worried he would break the fragile friendship they had developed during the weeks they were working on the chemistry project. He didn’t want to lose her as a friend.

“I have an idea,” he said slowly.

Grace curiously looked at him.

“What if,” he said. “We pretend we are dating?”

Grace stared at him. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Just hear me out,” he said quickly. “There are already rumors we are dating. Not that anyone really believes them but it can help. If we agree to be in Mrs. Mitchell’s team, we will have a cover. And you can participate without worrying about all the stuff you mentioned. Until the competition is over. Then we can "break up".”

Grace blinked at him. “I can’t decide if you’re just joking or are an actual mad genius.”

Christopher couldn’t help a smile. “Neither.”

“What are you gaining from this?” she asked. “Why bother? We are sort of friends but you can’t like me that much. And correct me if I’m wrong but you never had a problem with whatever people said about you. Your friends fight anyone who does but they care more than you ever did.”

It was true. People have always said some things about him but it was never serious. The Merry Thieves got angrier than him and always defended him. Christopher never thought the opinions of other people were important. They didn’t affect his life.

He hesitated. He was worried she would ask him this. But he couldn’t come up with a good enough reason that wasn’t the truth. He was already seeing the suspicion in her gaze. The forming distrust.

Grace started to get up.

“Wait!” he said. She looked at him. He took a deep breath. “I… I kind of need to date someone.”

“Why?” she asked.

“I…” he sighed. “My friends from time to time ask me if I like somebody. If I’m dating. Or if I think about having a family and kids and stuff. Almost like that’s all there is in life.”

Grace was watching him with sympathy… and understanding.

“Recently I feel even more pressured to… I don’t know. "Admit" I like someone,” he shrugged uncomfortably. “I don’t have time for a relationship. I’m not sure I want a relationship.”

He took off his glasses and started cleaning them, avoiding Grace's gaze. “I’m trying to say… I’m demi. And I don’t know how to come out to them.”

A warm hand was placed on his shoulder. “You are demisexual?”

“And demiromantic,” he nodded. He put on his glasses again and looked at her. “You know what that is?”

“Of course,” Grace said. “I’m greyromantic.”

Christopher’s eyes widened. His chest tightened with a nice, warm feeling. “You’re on the spectrum.”

Grace nodded. “I’m non-SAM greyro. This means I don’t identify with any sexual identity.”

Christopher nodded. “SAM is short for a split attraction model, right?”

“Yeah,” Grace said. “Kit, listen,” she ran a hand through her hair. “I know how… difficult it can be to come out as aroace. How tiring. All the terminology, the energy, the fear. I went through it as I came out to my friends. But… don’t you think it’s worth a try? I mean… you would fake dating me because you’re not ready to come out?”

Christopher looked at her. “I know how it sounds. But when I tell them I want it to be on my own terms. I want to be ready. Not because I’m pressured.”

Christhopher was honest. He didn’t have the energy to do it. He didn’t want to give explanations. He just wanted to be left alone and work on what was really important to him.

Grace nodded in silent understanding. She looked at the sky for a moment and then back at Christhopher.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” he blinked.

“Let’s do it,” she smiled.

Christopher beamed. “Really?”

“Yeah. I mean,” she shrugged. “It would be fun. And it will probably end in a disaster.”

•

They both went to Mrs. Mitchell to tell her they will join her team. It was a bit scary, the more Grace thought about it. It was somehow so silly. Like a joke.

Yet it was real. Strange but real. Here they were, in the empty lab, with a laptop with an open google doc in front of Christopher.

“Okay,” he said. “We need to set rules.”

Grace nodded.

“First question,” she said. “Who are we allowed to tell?”

“No one?”

Grace frowned. “No one? You mean, not even our friends?”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, this was stupid question,” she said. “I mean… not even some people? Someone we trust?”

Christopher hesitated. “No. It's too risky.”

Grace sighed. “Okay.”

Christopher tapped it down. “No friends,” he murmured. “No family. No teachers.”

Grace was thinking about the second rule. After he was done writing, she said, “No kissing on the lips.”

Christopher blinked. “Oh,” he said. “I never thought about it, to be honest.”

Grace took the laptop from him. “On the cheek, on the hand, that's okay. Hell, even the neck. But not on the lips. And it should be consensual. I guess we can break it only if the situation is really desperate.”

“Fair enough,” he said as Grace was writing it. “Though I didn't think we would need it.”

Grace shrugged. “The key to a good relationship is commutation.”

Christopher smiled.

“Okay,” she looked at Christopher. “When do we break up?”

“When we win the competition,” he said immediately.

Grace arched an eyebrow. “Ambitious, are we?”

Christopher shrugged. “I'm not arrogant. Only practical. We can win.”

Grace wrote it down.

“Oh, another thing,” she said. “You have to break up with me.”

Christopher blinked again and uncomfortably shifted on his seat. “Why?”

“Because all this scheme would be worthless if I "break your heart",” she said. Then after a second, quieter, added. “And maybe so people can stop virgin-shaming you once and for all. Hopefully.”

Christopher looked touched but before he could speak, Grace said sharply, “Anyway. Something else?”

Christopher looked thoughtful. “Hmm,” he murmured. “I guess we can use the excuse we're lab partners to say how we got together. So,” he shrugged. “I don't think there is anything else.”

“Wait!” Grace suddenly said. “What do we do to convince people we are dating? Because we are not going to be like one of those couples that post selfies on instagram.”

Christopher frowned, confused. “What do you mean? Isn't rule two about this?”

“Yes but,” Grace hesitated. She felt silly. “People would want to see… I don't know… chemistry or something.”

“We are literally partners in a chemistry class?”

“I mean…” Grace signed. “People like it when couples really like each other and have… connection…?”

Christopher looked more confused than ever.

“I don't understand it either!” Grace said defensively.

“You have been in relationships before!”

“This doesn't mean I know how it works,” she frowned.

Christopher shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. Let’s leave it for now. We’ll add it if we come up with something.”

“Fine,” she said. She stared at the screen for a second. “How do we name it? It should be something other people won’t recognize if they stumble upon it.”

Christopher narrowed his eyes as he thought. Grace could almost see the wheels that were spinning in his head. Then he grinned.

“I have an idea,” he pulled the laptop in front of himself. His glasses reflected the electric blue light. After he was done he turned it over to her.

Grace laughed. “How did you even come up with that?”

He shrugged. “I like to put names only I know the meaning of. My family won’t even blink at this - they’re used to my odd titles.”

Grace grinned. “People have no idea what genius you really are.”

Marie Curie's Guide to Fake Chemistry

1. Grace and Christopher are not allowed to tell anybody about the fake relationship. Friends, family and teachers included.

2. No kissing on the lips. Cheeks, hands and necks are allowed but only with consent or when it's planned. The rule can be broken only if it's unavoidable.

3. Grace and Christopher will break up when the competition “Marie Curie” is over.

4. Christopher will break up with Grace.

5. Grace and Christopher can add new rules any time, as long as the other agrees.

•

“You,” James slowly said.

“...and Grace,” Matthew finished.

The Merry Thieves were in the Devil Tavern and Christopher just told them that he and Grace were "together".

At first they reacted with disbelief. Matthew thought he was joking.

“Yes,” Chrisphioher repeated. “We are together.”

Thomas smiled. “Good for you! You must really like her.” He got up to hug Kit for a second. “Now,” he said, back in his seat. “More important matters: food.”

He continued to talk like nothing happened. Chrisphioher was oddly grateful for this. Matthew and James looked unsure but moved on eventually.

They talked about their classes and since all of them were studying different things, it was always an endless topic. Matthew was complaining about how boring his art history teacher was and James told a mini analysis of Dickens’ entire work.

He liked it most when Thomas talked though. Linguistics had logic that remained Chrisphioher of chemistry.

“Hey, don’t be mean,” Matthew said as they all were laughing at his poor sketch of a building. No one could even guess the style.

“Don’t worry,” Thomas said with a smile, trying hard not to laugh. “I’m sure the teacher will appreciate the effort.”

“She better,” he said with a low tone. “I put my heart into it.”

James rolled his eyes. Thank gods, Matthew didn’t notice.

“Anyway,” Thomas said. “I gotta go.”

They blinked at him.

“Where?” James said.

Thomas shrugged. “I need to do some stuff for Eugenia.”

“But this is our night,” Christopher said with a frown. “Every Friday.”

“Yes!” Matthew added. “We always stay up until late.”

Thomas hesitated. He looked guilty. “I’m sorry, guys,” he said. “I should leave you for tonight.”

James made a face. Christopher wasn’t feeling too good about it either.

“Hey, you can still stay here and have a good time,” Thomas suggested. “Just one night, okay?”

They watched him as he was leaving until he was outside.

“What’s the point if it’s not the four of us,” Matthew said bitterly.

“Just one time,” Christopher said. He hated it when his friends were upset.

“Yeah, one time. An exception,” Matthew said. “And then again. It would be an emergency of some sort. And then again. And again. Until the tradition is ruined and no one shows up.”

“Math, with all the love in the world,” James said. “Stop bitching.”

Christopher bite back a smile. Matthew rolled his eyes.

“Anyway,” James said as he got up. “I’m leaving too.”

“What?” Matthew almost shouted.

“Thomas left,” James shrugged. “We won’t do anything tonight so I may as well go see Cordelia.”

Matthew groaned. “Traitors,” he turned to Christopher. “What, are you gonna leave too?”

“Nope,” he said as he bit into a lemon tart. “I’m just gonna eat.”

Matthew nodded approvingly. “Good. The two of us are the survivors.”

Christopher chuckled. Matthew’s dramatism was so entertaining.

“Anyway,” he said with a sigh. “So, tell me. Why Grace?”

Christopher tensed immediately. “What?”

“I mean,” Matthew said. “You never cared for all the girls and guys I have been suggesting to you. Why of all, you choose the Heartbreaker?”

“Don’t call her that,” Christopher said sharply.

Matthew blinked at him. “But-”

“No,” he said firmly. “She hates this nickname. And we both know it’s exaggerated.”

“Come on, Kit,” he looked unsure. “It’s not that big of a deal-”

“You know what,” Christopher got up too, putting on his coat. “I’m leaving too. I’m not hungry anymore.”

Christopher was aware he was probably overreacting. Matthew didn’t mean harm. But then he remembered Grace’s face when people were shooting those things in the classroom. And he knew he couldn’t have passed Matthew’s comment.

•

“Don’t,” Grace snapped.

“I haven’t said anything!” Alastair said.

“You are thinking.”

They were sitting on Kamala's couch, the three of them in pajamas, watching the latest episode of a rom-com neither of them liked. But it was fun to hate on it and they could talk while watching.

“He’s just…” Kamala hesitated. “Not your type.”

Grace silently looked at the TV. She wasn’t too happy to lie to her friends. But she could do it.

“So what?” she said eventually. “No, actually - what even is my type?”

Alastair and Kamala looked at each other.

“Assholes,” Alastair said straightforwardly.

Grace blinked. This wasn’t the answer she expected.

“I…”

Kamala shrugged.

“Sorry girl, it’s true,” she said. “And if for some reason a boyfriend seems nice and cute, he turns out to be toxic, manipulative or wants to use you. Or all of them.”

Alastair nodded with a dark expression.

Grace looked away, without answering. It was true. She has been in many relationships, many of them bad. She was trying so hard at the time to feel attracted to them, and sometimes she did. Sex was nice and she thought she’ll fall in love with one of them. But it never happened. Her romantic feelings were mild, if there at all. And if it happened to be stronger for some “nice” guy, he turned out shitty. She wasn’t afraid of breaking up with them. She was afraid of what was supposed to happen that just… didn’t. It always ended before she could explore it, for one reason or another.

Assholes were the only people who wouldn’t be hurt if she didn’t show them the affection that was supposed to be there, if they expected it at all. They used each other and they knew it. But there were a few nice ones, a few guys that liked to talk after a break up, and she ended up with the nickname the Heartbreaker.

A loud laugh came from the TV. The main characters were in some desperately stupid situation. Grace grabbed some popcorn. It was better to watch the disaster the allos were instead of thinking how she was fake dating her lab partner.

“Hey,” Kamala quietly said, wrapping a hand around Grace’s shoulders. “Sorry if we were mean. We want only the best for you. And we know that sometimes you’re not giving it to yourself.”

Grace’s throat tightened. She let her head fall on Kamala’s shoulder and she closed her eyes. She couldn’t imagine what she would do without her friends. Without their support and understanding, without them to look after her.

She thought about Christopher. His friends didn’t know. He couldn’t use their support like she did. He didn’t have anyone but her, knowing who he truly is. Grace hoped, really hoped, he would find peace with himself.

•

“Is this all?” Grace asked, marking with a green pen some things in her notebook.

Grace and Christopher were in the chemistry lab together with their other teammates. Kit knew almost all of them. They had been working together before.

Mrs. Mitchell gave a few tasks for every pair. Grace and Christopher were almost done.

Christopher looked at the paper the teacher gave them. “Yes,” he said. “Now we have to mix the two and wait for a reaction for a few minutes.”

Grace carеfully poured the liquid in the conical flasks while Kit was holding the funnel.

“Done,” Grace said.

They both just sat then, watching as the liquids they were making for the past forty minutes were changing colours.

“So,” Christopher said. He licked his lips. “My friends want to meet you.”

Grace gave him a brief glance. “Okay.”

“You don’t have to though,” he said quickly. “Matthew will be passive aggressive, James will be super polite and only Thomas will probably be friendly.”

Her lips curled at the mention of Thomas. “I see,” she said. “I don’t mind. Fairchild’s big ego doesn’t scare me.”

“You sure? You really don’t have too.”

“Don’t worry,” Grace said with a smile. “I’m a strong girl.”

“I know,” Christopher said. “I just don’t want you to need to be one.”

Grace blinked at him, a strange emotion crossing her face. Before she could say something, Mrs. Mitchell came to check how they were doing and the conversation stopped. Christopher’s heart was beating fast and he felt a strange anxiety forming in his stomach.

•

They agreed to meet at the Hell Rule the next week. Grace wasn’t too worried. The Merry Thieves weren’t half as intimidating as Christopher thought they were. And Grace’s friends were meaner.

“Hey,” Christopher smiled at her. She kissed his cheek and he wrapped a hand around her shoulders.

They have talked about what they will do so it doesn't turn awkward or unbelievable. It still felt strange. Not bad though.

“Hi,” Thomas first greeted her, smiling. She shook his hand, immediately liking him. She could see why Alastair fell so hard for him.

Matthew on the other hand wasn't that friendly but he tried to smile at her. It ended up more as a grimace. Kamala who was next to them smiled at them as well, shaking Kit’s hand.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” she said.

“Me too,” he said. “I have heard so much about you.”

Kamala smiled even bigger and turned to the other two boys, greeting them as well.

“Where is Alastair?” Grace asked as they all sat down.

“He will come later,” she said. “It’s Lucie’s birthday soon and he has to help Cordelia with something about it.”

“James won’t come, by the way,” Matthew said. “Same reason.”

Thomas laughed. “The world is small, isn’t it?”

“Indeed,” Grace said.

She glanced at Christopher who still had his arm around her shoulders. She had to admit she kind of liked it.

“So, Grace,” Thomas said. “I heard you have been in an art class for a while?”

Grace laughed. “Oh, this is a funny story.”

From there the conversation continued. Matthew and Kamala seemed to like each other. Thomas and Grace too. So far it was going better than she had expected.

She spotted Alastair coming in, looking around. She waved at him and he saw her. Everyone on the table turned to him. When he approached them, Grace stood up to introduce him. Then he sat next to Thomas, extra careful not to look at him too much. Grace was barely holding back her grin. These two were trying a little too hard not to show they’re together. Looking at Kamala, she knew her friend was thinking the same.

The rest was a bit of a blur. They talked about school, common acquaintances and funny stories with someone else from the group. They ordered alcohol. Grace wasn’t sure it was a good idea but she didn’t say anything. She was afraid of what someone may say or do while drunk. It would be fun though.

“Ok, no, stop,” Matthew said, already at his third glass. “Let’s spice it up. This is boring.”

Kamala giggled. “I have an idea.”

She grabbed a bottle from the middle of the table, poured the rest of it in her cup and looked at them. She arched an eyebrow. “We can play spin the bottle.”

Thomas grinned uncharacteristically wild and started to take off the rest of the bottles that were in the middle of the table. Everyone helped, Grace and Christopher the least drunk from them. Maybe Christopher. Grace was a little tipsy.

“Okay,” Kamala said and spun the bottle. It landed on Matthew. She grinned. “Kiss the most attractive person on this table.”

Christopher frowned. “This is not how this game works.”

Kamala shrugged. “I’m a lesbian and the only other non-man person is your girlfriend. I say to play it differently.”

Matthew thought for a second. “Kiss the most attractive person you say… then, can I kiss your hand, milady?”

Kamala apparently found this incredibly funny because she laughed. But she allowed it. Matthew kissed her hand respectively.

Thomas rolled his eyes. “Who are the boring ones now?” he said.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Matthew grinned wickedly. “It’s my turn.”

He spun the bottle. After a long spinning, it pointed at Alastair. Her friend groaned.

“Ok, Carstairs,” Matthew said. “Same thing. Kiss the most attractive person on the table. On the mouth. Nowhere else.”

Alastair looked very seriously around the table. He didn’t have too many options, Grace thought. Grace and Kamala were out of question and Christopher was her boyfriend so he wouldn’t choose him out of respect for her. There were left only Thomas, his secret boyfriend, and Matthew who, Grace knew, Alastair disliked.

“I see, ” Alastair said seriously and turned to Thomas. He wrapped a hand around his neck and pulled Thomas towards him. Thomas’ eyes widened as their lips crushed. Matthew was staring at them with his mouth agape. Grace turned away. It was a game but she still didn’t think it’s her place to see something so personal.

After a few seconds they pulled away, breathing hard. Alastair was flushed but kept his expression cool as much as it was possible. Thomas on the other hand was a blushing mess. The alcohol didn’t help.

“Let’s continue,” Thomas said, clearing his throat. He grabbed the bottle and spun it, glancing at Alastair every two seconds.

It pointed at Grace. She tensed.

“Oh thank god,” he murmured with relief. “I dare you to kiss the person on your left.”

The person on her left was Christopher. Her pseudo boyfriend.

They turned to each other, the same uncertainty written all over their faces.

The second rule. The one Grace personally insisted on. No kissing on the lips. Allowed only when the situation is unavoidable.

Was this unavoidable? If they refused it would be weird. They were a couple. Thomas specifically said it so they don’t have to struggle.

She placed a hand on Kit’s cheek. She licked her lips. “Is this okay? Can I?” she said so quietly only he could hear.

“Grace,” he said as quietly as her. “You set this rule. I don’t really care about kissing. Will you be okay with it?”

Grace glanced away for a second, thinking. If this was Kit’s first kiss, she wouldn’t want to take it away. But he said he doesn’t care. It wasn’t something he valued. And it wasn’t Grace’s place to doubt him.

She closed her eyes and leaned down, her hands on Christopher’s cheeks.

His lips were unexpectedly soft. Maybe a little dry. And warm.

Kissing Christopher was as unexpected as everything else about him. Sweet. Delightful. Undeniably charming.

His arm wrapped around her waist, bringing her a little closer. He was warm and strange, and a ticklish feeling was forming in her chest.

Then it was over. A kiss that lasted no more than a few seconds. Grace felt a little tipsy and it wasn't just the alcohol.

Christopher Lightwood was making himself home at her heart and she wasn't sure she liked it.

•

Was he drunk? Did he drink too much whisky? Or this was beer? Maybe wine? He certainly drank something sweet that reminded him of wine.

When Grace pulled away she looked as composed as she was before. Her nose was a little flushed because of the alcohol but other than this she looked perfectly put together.

Christopher on the other hand felt out of breath, hot and he was sure his face was red.

“Aww, look how he's blushing!” Kamala said, confirming his theory. “You two are adorable.”

At which, of course, Christopher blushed even more.

“Shut up,” Grace murmured and drank from her cup.

Kamala and Thomas grinned at them, equally drunk. Matthew was almost sleeping on the table. Only Alastair looked like he could control himself.

They didn't continue the game. They just couldn't. They were far too drunk to care.

They decided it's time for everyone to go home.

“Oopsie,” Kamala giggled as she tried to stand up and staggered.

Thomas, ever the gentleman, tried to stand up too, in order to help her.

“Let me- ugh,” he was pulled back on his seat by Alastair.

“There aren't enough sober people to pick you up if you fall on the ground, so don't even try, Lightwood.”

Thomas looked at him and smiled a happy, drunk smile. “Okay. Whatever you say.” He had all but hearts in his eyes as he looked at Alastair.

Alastair rolled his eyes but a tiny smile creeped on his face.

“Anyway,” he said and stood up.

Grace narrowed his eyes at him. “You didn't drink, did you?”

He snorted. “Of course I didn’t. Someone has to drive,” he turned to Kamala, gently taking her hand. “I’ll take everyone at their homes,” he nodded at Thomas and Matthew. “Look after them. I’ll be back in a minute.”

He slowly moved through the bar, with Kamala hanging on his side, chuckling.

Grace turned to Christopher. “We’re the only ones, huh?”

Kit smiled. “Apparently.”

Grace stretched her arms up. As she did it her shirt rose a little bit. He accidentally spotted it, a piece of skin on her back dotted with freckles. He blushed and quickly looked away. Grace didn’t notice.

Alastair returned, alone this time. “Someone help me with Thomas.”

Christopher jumped off his seat. “I will.”

Alastair arched an eyebrow at his enthusiasm. “There aren’t many options, aren’t there?”

Once everyone was in Alastair’s car, he slowly went out on the road. “Okay, Kamala’s parents shouldn’t see her like this so she’ll crash at my place. And I know Grace’s address. What about the rest of you?”

“Thomas’ campus is close,” Christopher said. “Just turn over- Yes!” He was in the back seat, trying to keep Matthew from falling in his lap. “Most people always confuse the road because of the trees that are hiding the sign for the campus. Have you been here before?”

“Well,” Alastair said, looking straight at the road. “I have… a friend here, of a sort.”

Grace arched an eyebrow and smirked but didn’t say anything.

With joint efforts they managed to move Thomas. Christopher had a key for his dorm. He was soundly asleep when they left.

“Where to take Fairchild?” Alastair said as they were back in the car.

“My place,” Kit said. “I don’t have a key for his dorm and his parents don’t like it when he drinks this much.”

Alastair murmured something but Christopher couldn’t hear what.

After he helped Kit to put Matthew on the couch in his living room, he turned to Alastair. “Thank you so much,” he said sincerely. “I don’t know what we would have done without you.”

“You’re very much not welcome,” Alastair said.

“This means he likes you,” Grace assured Christopher.

“Shut up, Cartwright,” he frowned. She gave him an air kiss.

“Anyway,” she said. She turned towards Kit. “Can I use the bathroom?”

“Sure,” he said. He pointed in its direction. “The second door on the left.”

As Grace disappeared behind the said door Alastair suddenly turned to Christopher. He blinked at him. “Wha-”

“Listen to me, Lightwood,” he said. “I don’t give a single shit what you’re exactly thinking by dating Grace. But if at some point you hurt her or break her heart, I’ll have you praying to have been hurt physically instead of the things I’ll do to you. And when I’m done, Kamala will come for you and, believe me, it won’t be pretty.”

Christopher swolled. “I- I don’t-”

“I don’t care,” Alastair said. “You be careful not to be a dickhead and we all will be happy and well.”

He turned on his heels and walked to his car. Christopher could only watch after him. Alastair closed the door with a loud noise and continued to glare at Christopher.

He heard Grace going out of the bathroom. “See you tomorrow,” she said and kissed his cheek.

He watched as his pseudo girlfriend got into the car. A doopy smile appeared on his face. He didn’t know if it was because of how absurd the whole situation was, the alcohol or just because he had a really good time tonight, with his friends and Grace. The last one seemed the scariest.

•

The competition “Marie Curie” was held after one week and Grace didn’t think she was ready.

She barely has seen Christopher during the holidays. They texted a lot but mostly to help each other with their chemistry tasks. It was the last day before school started again and Grace unexpectedly got a text from Kit asking her if she could come to help him with a problem.

She immediately said to send her the address.

“Hi,” Christopher said as he opened the door. Grace was shocked by his look. His hair was messy, even more than usual and he had dark circles under his eyes. “This way.”

As he was leading her through the house she saw photos on the walls. It was clean but dusty.

“Is this Matthew?” she said as she looked at a photo of a little blonde boy playing on the floor with an older red-headed guy.

Christopher barely glanced at it. “Yeah,” he said. “This is Fairchild's house. Henry, Matthew’s father, is a scientist and he allows me to use his lab whenever I want. They're currently on vacation so the house is empty.”

Grace nodded, still looking around.

“Welcome to heaven,” he opened a door.

Grace was hit by the scent of chemicals, cleaning agents and maybe even smoke. It looked a lot like the lab in school but messier.

“I can spend a few days here,” Grace smiled.

Christopher smiled as well.

“Here,” he handed her a bunch of papers. Grace’s gaze travelled through it, trying to understand what it was. It was calculations. A lot of them, different equations and formulas, crossed numbers and a few holes in the paper. All of it was at least ten lists, written on both sides.

She looked at Christopher. “What is this?”

He ran a hand through his hair. “I have been trying to do one of Mitchell's last tasks in a… different way.”

Grace narrowed her eyes. “What way? The task is hard enough on it’s own. And how long have you been trying?”

“A few days maybe?” he shrugged. “I lost track of time.”

“And no one came to check on you here?”

“I told them I’m going out with you,” he confessed.

Grace looked at the papers again. There were more of them on the desk.

“Kit…”

“Just hear me out,” he said hurriedly and started to frantically search through the mess that was the table. “Look, here I caught something but I couldn't find the right formula. And the equacions aren’t adding up- ”

“Christopher.”

Startled by her tone, he looked at her blinking slowly.

She carefully put a hand on his shoulder. “You are exhausted.”

He looked away but didn’t deny it.

“The fatigue makes our brains fuzzy. We are not meant to work past our breaking point. You need a rest. You need sleep.”

“You don’t understand,” he rapidly began to shake his head. “The competition is in a less than a week, the task is due tomorrow and I can’t afford-”

“No,” she said. “Unlike many people I actually do understand. I know how hard it is to give up, even for a while.”

“I’m just… so close,” he said with pleading eyes. “I know it. If I only had a few more days I’d figure it out…”

“I know,” Grace whispered. She gently pulled him for a hug. He buried his face in her neck and placed hands on her hips. He relaxed against her.

“Listen,” she said quietly. “You’ll take a nap now. So when you wake up you can take a fresh look. Meanwhile, I’ll look it up too and together we will solve it. You know how needed is another point of view sometimes.”

“Ok,” he said with a sigh. His breath sent shivers on her spine.

“Come on,” she said. He showеd her the room he had for himself. It was small, only with a bed, a nightstand and a dresser with a few clothes.

Christopher fell into bed, taking off his glasses and putting them in the nightstand. Grace covered him with the blanket that was shoved to the end of the bed.

“Don’t touch my glasses, please,” he murmured. “I don’t like people touching them.”

“I won’t,” Grace promised but Kit was already asleep.

She found his backpack in the room. She found the individually-wrapped optical wipes that she had seen him using before. She put one in the nightstand and left the room.

Then she went to the lab to look at Christopher’s notes.

•

Mrs. Mitchell wasn’t too pleased they had done an individual task together. But eventually she admitted they have done a good job on it.

Christopher couldn’t find himself a place from excitement. He was a little sleep-dehydrated but the whole chemistry team was free of classes so they could practice. It was awesome.

Right now Grace and another girl were discussing an equation with Mrs. Mitchell.

He got lost in his own notes, solving the next problem. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed. At some point Grace was sitting next to him, calling his name.

“Yes?” he looked at her.

She arched an eyebrow. “The classes are over.”

He looked around the room. One more boy was packing his stuff but except him, there was no one else in the room.

“Do you want to stay a little longer?”

“Okay,” Grace shrugged.

The boy waved at them for goodbye and left, closing the door after himself.

“I was thinking,” Grace said, she was playing with her hair, looking around the room. She seemed oddly nervous. “Maybe we should change the second rule. The one about kissing.”

“Um…” Christopher said, unsure.

“If we both don’t have any problems kissing each other, of course,” she said. “I mean… if we do, we will be more natural looking. And won’t need to plan every step when we’re going out in public.”

Christopher nodded slowly. “You are right,” he said. “If it doesn't bother either of us.”

“Good,” Grace took out her phone and opened the google doc. Christopher watched as she was writing it down.

He looked away, licking his lips. A strange feeling was forming in his stomach when he looked at Grace. Her smile. Her eyes when she finally solved a chemical problem. Her laugh at some of his lame jokes.

He also started to notice other things. Things that reminded him that Grace is a very, very attractive person.

He swallowed. Maybe changing the second rule wasn’t the best idea. No, he knew it had the potential for a disaster.

His brain knew it. But his chest was filled with a sweet, fluffy feeling.

He jumped from his seat. Grace blinked at him, startled.

“Enough for today,” he said, grabbing his things. “Do you want to go drink something?”

“Sure,” she said, picking up her stuff as well, looking at him oddly.

They left the lab.

Marie Curie's Guide to Fake Chemistry

1. Grace and Christopher are not allowed to tell anybody about the fake relationship. Friends, family and teachers included.

2. Kissing on the lips is allowed for the sake of being more natural looking.

3. Grace and Christopher will break up when the competition “Marie Curie” is over.

4. Christopher will break up with Grace.

5. Grace and Christopher can add new rules any time, as long as the other agrees.

•

Grace quickly spotted Kamala and Alastair in the crowd. Not that there were a lot of people. But with the families of their teammates and opponents, some friends, some teachers and the judghs, there were some.

Mrs. Mitchell was telling them a few last encouraging words, hyping them up. Christopher was practically vibrating with excitement next to Grace. She smiled. If he got even a little more hyped he’d explode.

“And remember,” Mrs. Mitchell said. “In the end, we all will learn something from our mistakes from today, no matter who is the winner. But the key in chemistry isn’t not to make mistakes. It’s to give all you can and learn. Always to learn from each other.”

With one last smile she sent them to the stage. Grace took a deep breath.

She looked at Christopher. He looked at her.

“Are you nervous?” he whispered.

Grace smiled. “Terrified.”

He grinned. “Same.”

Together, they went out on the stage.

•

The whole competition lasted a few hours with three rounds and two breaks. It was a blur of formulas, equations, chemical reactions and unpleasant scents that make you dizzy.

Somehow Grace found herself sitting on a bench with the rest of her teammates and Mrs. Mitchell. They were waiting for the results from the last round to be processed and compared with the ones from the previous rounds.

Cold sweat was running down her spine. Her stomach was a wrecked ball. Then suddenly and at the same time too slow, a judge came on the stage with an envelope. With a smile he opened it and read out aloud the name of the winner.

It was their school.

The team exploded in loud cries of joy, jumping around and hugging each other. Some hugged Mrs. Mitchell, others their lap partner. Christopher grabbed her in a fierce hug, lifting her from the ground. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, laughing and crying at the same time.

When he finally let her on the ground again, she saw his eyes were glassy. Grace wasn’t sure who initiated it and it didn’t matter. Their lips crushed into each other.

It was different from the kiss in the Hell Rule. It was deeper, rougher and both of them were too consumed by the moment to care who watched. It was a dancing battle, a brutal consuming. Heat was spreading across her body and Christopher’s hands left fire wherever they touched.

When the need of oxygen was too great, they parted but stayed close. For a few moments at least.

In the way Christopher was looking at her, there was nothing fake. It wasn’t a scheme for other people. It felt more real than her ex-boyfriends ever were.

•

After that their friends come to them to say their congratulations. The team went out to celebrate. The whole evening was full of drinking, laughing and Grace's shining eyes Christopher couldn’t stop seeing.

It was magnificent, heated and so much needed. They all needed this wild celebration after the hard work. All weeks of studying, the sleepless nights, texting with Grace, the hours with her in the lab… was this over now?

He enjoyed the night. He truly did. Even though it was a blur he barely remembered. But he got home with a dreadful feeling in his stomach.

The competition was over. This meant he had to break up with Grace.

•

Thankfully, the next day was Saturday so they didn’t have to go to school. Grace didn’t think she could.

She spent the night at Kamala’s place together with Alastair, drunk and with blurry memories from the evening.

When she woke up, everything was quiet but her head. She looked around, blinking. She was in the living room, lying on the couch. Everything was shadow-ish, thank god. She spotted Kamala sitting in front of a window. The only stronger light was coming from it. Alastair wasn’t nowhere to be seen.

“Hey,” Grace said, her voice so raspy she barely recognized it.

Kamala looked at her, a little startled, and smiled. “Good morning, sunshine.”

Grace groaned in response.

“There is water next to you and some medicine if you want.”

Grace grabbed the water but didn’t touch the pills. She hated most medicines and the situation wasn’t that desperate.

With the blanket still wrapped around her shoulders, Grace dragged herself to Kamala and sat next to her on the floor. There were tons of pillows beneath them so it was soft.

“You know,” Kamala chuckled. “It’s a relief that even someone as attractive as you is a messy monster creature in the mornings.”

Grace hit her with a pillow.

Still laughing, Kamala took it away from Grace’s hands and Grace didn’t fight it. She was too sleepy for that.

“Where is Alastair?” she asked instead.

“Still sleeping,” Kamala said. “He fell asleep in my room, so,” she shrugged. “I decided I’ll wait for one of you to wake up.”

“What happened yesterday?”

“Not much,” she said. “A girl from your team called us through your phone and told us to come pick you up. You and Christopher were very drunk so we decided to drop him at his house. Alastair asked Thomas for the address.”

“Oh,” Grace just said. Memories from yesterday came to her mind like a tornado. The team were playing some silly drinking games. Mrs. Mitchell saying goodbye to them and to have fun. Christopher kissing her.

Her cheeks burned.

Kamala, of course, noticed. She grinned. “You’re thinking about your guy?”

Grace didn’t answer. There was no need.

“We saw you on the stage, by the way,” Kamala said. “Well, everyone did,” she chuckled. “You have chemistry, I can’t deny you that. It was sweet.”

An uneasy feeling spread in Grace's stomach. All she could think about was the name of their guide. Marie Curie's guide to fake chemistry. Fake chemistry, fake chemistry, fake, fake, fake-

There was nothing fake about their kiss yesterday. Grace couldn't breathe.

“I…” Grace swallowed. “I need to check on him.”

“He’s probably still sleeping,” she said. “I hope he is. Hangover is a bitch.”

Grace carefully got up and tried her best not to look like she was having a panic attack. She grabbed her stuff and left Kamala’s house.

•

Since the competition was over, Christopher and Grace didn’t have as much time as before to see each other.

Christopher hasn’t heard from Grace the whole Sunday and today they didn’t share classes. He was dreading what he had to do. In the beginning, he thought it would be easy - they would "break up", act heartbroken a few weeks and get to be lap partners again. No big deal.

He didn’t actually expect to feel heartbroken.

The phone in his pocket vibrated. As he looked it up, he saw it’s a text from Grace. Meet at the lap after classes?

His stomach was a wreck of anxiety as he sent a simple ok in reply.

He was thankful there were only two classes left. He was so anxious he couldn’t quite concentrate on them. All he could think about was the kiss on that stage. Grace’s hair in his fingers. Her drunk smile when they were celebrating.

After the classes were over he headed straight to the laboratory, sending a quick text to Thomas saying he won't be able to wait in front of his faculcity today. He opened the door, expecting to see an empty room. He was caught off guard by Grace who was standing by the window. She looked up to him with sharp eyes. How he hadn’t noticed how striking her eyes are?

“Hey, nerd,” she said with a smile. She seemed tired.

Christopher was just standing there, half way closing the door, frozen. He licked his lips. He closed the door and put his backpack on the closest desk, running a hand through his hair.

“I can’t do it.”

“What?” Grace said, blinking at him.

“I can’t break up with you,” he said. “I… I don’t know how. I mean…” frustrated, he started to walk around the room. “My feelings changed. They didn’t grow and I didn’t start to care about you more than before or something. They just transformed into something different. Do… do you understand what I’m trying to say?”

Grace closed her eyes and looked away.

“I’m trying to say I… if you don’t-”

“Stop,” she said.

Christopher flinched. But stopped.

In his chest he had a chunk of feelings he couldn’t understand fully. And they were hot and wet, bubbling like hot water and demanding something. Christopher didn’t think he was able to give it.

“I…” Grace said. Paused. Started again. “I… I feel something for you too.”

Something fragile started to bloom in KIt’s chest. It suspiciously looked like hope.

“But, Kit, I…” she looked at him, insecurity written all over her face. Christopher hated to see it in her. Hated to see it because it was a mirror to his own. Insecurity every time when his parents teased him about love, when his friends suggested a person he can date, when someone started to talk about their sex life, when someone brought up their made-up ship in his favorite sci-fi movies… Every time when relationships were involved and he was out of his element.

“I feel attraction rarely and mildly,” Grace continued in a low voice. “It fades away after time, or changes to something else,” she looked him in the eye. “I love you, Christopher. I love you. But I’m not sure I can fall for you.”

Tears of relief and something else filled his eyes. He made a step towards her.

“This is okay,” he said, his throat tightened. “This is not what is important to me.”

“I won’t be able to give you the amount of affection you probably want.”

“No problem,” he said with a smile. “I’m too busy to do it too.”

“And I’m picky with touch,” she said. “Some days I can’t stand it and the next I want to cuddle.”

“I hate it when people touch my glasses and iron my clothes.”

“I love to hate on rom-coms.”

“I love to criticize action movies.”

She smiled, joy dancing in her eyes.

“I prefer DC,” she said teasingly.

“And I - MCU,” he said with a grin.

With every answer he was making a step towards Grace until he was standing in front of her.

“I’m a bitch,” she murmured, glancing at his lips.

“I’m a socially awkward nerd,” he said and kissed her.

Two smiles crushed into each other, sweet things with a hint of a spark.

They parted, laughing and holding on to the other.

“It is not the most romantic kiss we have had, is it?” Kit said with a smile.

“Nope,” Grace said with a grin. “But the most adorable.”

Christopher gently took her hands and kissed her knuckles. “This okay?” he murmured.

“Yeah,” Grace smiled.

He looked at her. He couldn’t stop the soft smile from appearing on his face and he didn’t want to.

“I’m sorry I’m ruining the moment but,” Grace said. “We should correct the google doc.”

Christopher half smiled, half groaned. “And here I thought I’m supposed to say stuff like this!”

“Nonsense,” Grace said as she was pulling out her phone. “You tend to be more messy. I like order.”

“True,” he admitted. “I have a thing for chaos sometimes.”

Grace thoughtfully looked at Kit. “First thing first - the name.”

She stared at her phone for a second then smiled. “Okay, I came up with something,” she said. “It’s not as creative as yours,” she added. “But it’s cute.”

He went behind her to look over her shoulder. He smiled. “I like this one better.”

“And,” Grace said with a prideful smile. “A new rule I think you’ll like.”

As she was tapping Christopher places his hands around her waist, kissing the top of her head.

When she showed him what she had written, he smiled widely. Grace looked amused.

“I want to add one too!” Kit said.

“Go ahead,” Grace said. Still hugging her from behind, he took her phone and started to write.

“Oh, this is a good one,” Grace smiled as she realized what he was writing.

“It’s not exactly a rule,” Christopher said. “But since this is a guide…”

“Don't worry,” Grace kissed his cheek. “This is the best one.”

•

Grace and Christopher's Guide to non-Fake Chemistry

1. Grace and Christopher are not allowed to tell anybody about the fake relationship. Friends, family and teachers included.

2. Kissing is allowed for the sake of being more natural looking.

3. Grace and Christopher will break up when the competition “Marie Curie” is over.

4. Christopher will break up with Grace.

5. Grace and Christopher can add new rules any time, as long as the other agrees.

6. The previous rules are bullshit. Christopher and Grace will figure it out as they go.

7. Christopher and Grace will be happy.

•

WORDS: 9 022

Christopher had never really enjoyed being in coffee shops before. It was far too loud for his taste, and most of the time, their drinks weren’t even that good.

That was before his friends stated regularly meeting there. Now, he frequented the place. He went in every day before his morning classes to meet with his friends. It had become a tradition of sorts for them, and Christopher enjoyed it more than he’d like to admit.

Their drinks were better than he’d thought, the atmosphere was outstanding, and the barista just happened to be really, really pretty.

Christopher stumbled into the small coffee shop, offering a small wave to his friends before claiming his spot in line.

Before he knew it, Grace—the pretty barista in question— was waving him forward with a broad smile on her face. He couldn’t tell if it was genuine or not. He hoped it was.

“Hi, Christopher,” she chirped.

He could feel the heat rising to his cheeks. “You know my name?”

She looked down for a moment before regaining her confidence and meeting his eye again, a mischievous gleam in her gray eyes. “Well, you come here nearly every day. And your friends aren’t exactly quiet, either.”

“Yes, I suppose that’s true. We aren’t exactly the quietest customers.”

“What can I get you? Wait, let me guess,” she said, a smile playing at her lips. “A sweet tea and a lemon tart?”

“You know me so well,” he joked, pulling out his wallet and getting ready to pay.

“Well, you can actually tell a lot about a person by their coffee order. For example, I happen to know that you really like lemon tarts.” She grabbed a lemon tart from the display case, handing it to Christopher. “Alright, I’ll let you know when it’s ready. Have a good day!”

He spluttered, somehow dripping both his phone and his wallet. “Don’t I need to pay?”

“Oh, it’s on me.”

Stunned and Confused, Christopher went to sit down his friends.

“Hey Kit,” said James. “You alright?”

“Grace remembered my name,” he said, his head still spinning from the encounter.

“We come here every day,” Matthew said with a laugh. “Of course she remembers your name.”

“She’s friends with Alastair,” Thomas said helpfully. “She might know you through him.”

“Or maybe she just likes you,” Matthew offered. “She’s never that nice to me! She even spat in my coffee once.”

“I’m sure you deserved it,” said James with a hoarse laugh. “Were you flirting with her?”

“Only a little.”

“Then you deserved it,” said Thomas.

Matthew crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m just trying to help our beloved Christopher here get a girlfriend! What’s wrong with trying to help?”

“I don’t need a girlfriend!” Christopher exclaimed, a little too loudly. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Grace tilt her head back in laughter.

Ok, maybe he needed a girlfriend. Christopher slumped back into his seat as Matthew’s hysteric cackle drowned out the sound of Grace’s melodic laugh.

“Come on, Matthew,” said Cordelia, her head on James’ shoulder. “Maybe you can lecture him once you’re able to keep a partner for more than a week.”

The table exploded in laughter.

“Some of us are simply not built for commitment,” Matthew said simply, raising his hands as if he were surrendering.

“Says the person that makes us come to the same coffee shop every day,” Lucie grumbled.

“Christopher?” Grace called from the bar.

“Now’s your chance,” said Matthew, practically pushing Christopher out of his chair. “Get her number! Or, better yet, I can get her number for you!”

“What, and have her spit in my tea?” Christopher asked with a scoff. “No, thanks. I think I’ll be fine.”

He scurried over to the counter, where Grace handed him his tea before rushing back to the cash register to help the next customer.

He was about to return to his table when he saw a phone number written in neat handwriting. Christopher looked back at the counter to see that Grace was already staring at him. She sent him a wide smile, then quickly turned back to the customer she was helping.

“So?” Thomas asked after he’d returned. “Did you ask for her number?”

He shifted his cup so they could see what she had written. “I didn’t have to.”

Matthew clapped Christopher harshly on the back, and he nearly spilled his drink all over himself.

•

~ Past ~

Thomas smiled as Alastair was scowling at the cat, who was meowing at them.

“Such a greedy and insolent creature,” he said with a dark expression and threw a piece of bread at it. The cat meowed happily and began to eat its new food.

This was the third time they have seen the cat. And they knew it was the same because of the white almost heart shaped mark on its face.

Thomas had named it Bee. Alastair had named it annoying.

Alastair caught him looking at him and rolled his eyes. Thomas grinned.

“Anyway,” he said, looking at the papers in his hand. “Any luck?”

“Actually,” Thomas said. “Yes. I saw an ad for… this tavern,” after he found it he handed it to Alastair. His eyes moved on the paper as he took it, an excitement slowly building up.

“That’s great!” Alastair looked at him with shining eyes. “Let’s go there.”

In less than an hour they were at the tavern. A small place with a friendly owner with warm brown eyes who was missing two fingers on his left hand and every time told a different story on how it happened.

“Hello, fellas,” he greeted them as they entered. He was behind the bar, cleaning the countertop. It was still noon so the place was empty. There was only a little girl sitting on a table, playing with a few cards. “You here about the job, yes?”

“That’s right,” Thomas said. Alastair nodded. They approached him and sat on the chairs in front of the bar. The girl said something to the owner in a language Thomas didn’t recognize. The man replied something shortly and turned to them with an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, lads, my granddaughter is a little sick today, ” he said. “I need to check on her.”

“Don’t worry,” Thomas said. “We are in no hurry.”

The man came from around the counter. He kneed in front of her, telling her something with a gentle smile. The little girl seemed pale and unhealthy but she smiled at her grandfather and nodded.

Alastair turned to him. “Do you think we can-”

The sound of numerous steps coming closer and closer distracted Thomas. They both turned to the door, Alastair stopped talking. The owner also frowned at it. They heard shouts. A few seconds later a man stormed into the tavern and slammed the doors closed after himself. He was holding a sword. Alastair and Thomas jumped from their seats. The owner hid the girl behind his body.

“No one move!” he screamed, his pale eyes frantically looking around. He was talking with an accent that revealed he was not from here. He was skinny and sweaty, his hair was blonde and dirty. The hand holding the sword was trembling. “No one move,” he repeated, even though none of them did anything.

His breathing was hard, his eyes frantic.

“Fella,” the owner said, his voice calm. “What do you want?”

“Keep quiet, old man,” he snapped. “No one moves and we all will leave this place in one piece.”

He slowly passed by Thomas and Alastair, suspiciously looking at Thomas. He had decided he’s the biggest threat. He came behind the bar, glancing at Thomas once in a while. He was searching, probably for money.

Thomas tried to look for something he could use as a weapon. He crossed eyes with Alastair. He could see he was thinking something similar.

“If we jump at him together,” he whispered, so quietly Thomas could barely hear him. “We can overpower him.”

“Okay,” Thomas said, barely a murmur. “I’ll take his left side-”

At that moment the owner appeared, holding a sword himself and jumped at the thief. But the stranger was faster. He turned just in time to meet his sword with the old man’s. He quickly disarmеd him.

“What are you doing, oldster?!” he shouted at him. “Do you want to get hurt? To get killed?! Why would you do that?!” Thomas thought he’s on the edge of tears.

While the blonde man continued to scream at the owner Thomas slowly, very slowly, moved towards the sword on the floor. Three, two steps… Thomas grabbed the sword.

The man turned to him, his eyes wild. Thomas stepped forward, a calmness he hasn’t felt in years washed over him. Metal met metal. Desperation filled the thief’s face. After a few moves he could see Thomas was no stranger to sword fighting.

It didn’t take long. The man was good. Surprisingly good, considering his trembling. But Thomas was better.

Seconds later the blonde's sword hit the floor. A few guards stormed into the tavern.

“That’s him!” a female guard shouted. Two others headed towards him and grabbed his arms, yanking him towards the door. After he was outside, the female guard turned to them. “Is everyone alright?”

“Yes,” the owner said. He was hugging his granddaughter who was trembling. He kissed the top of her head and looked at Thomas, an awe in his eyes. “This young man saved us! When this awful man tried to rob my tavern and threatened me, he bravely stepped in and disarmed him!”

The guard turned to him and with a hint of embarrassment he realized he’s still in combat position. He relaxed and carefully left the sword on the counter. He smiled sheepishly. “Just the right timing. Nothing so heroic.”

The guard smiled. “Come to the royal garden some time. The guards train there. We’ll see if you’re that good and if we can do something about it,” she said. She turned to the owner, nodding respectfully. “Uncle, call us if you have any trouble.”

“Thank you, ma'am,” he said, still a little shaken up but smiling.

The guard left and the old man turned to them. “Still want the job, young men?”

Thomas hesitated what to say but Alastair stepped in. “Yes.”

“Excellent!” He smiled wider and gently put the little girl on a chair, whispering something to her. He looked at them again. “Let’s start then!”

•

The rest of the day Thomas and Alastair couldn’t find time to talk. The owner, whose name they found out is Armin, was training them all afternoon until the evening.

“Tomorrow,” he said. “After sunset. We will open then.”

They said their goodbyes and left the tavern. The little girl waved at them. They didn’t exchange a single word but it seems she liked them.

Alastair had so many questions. He couldn’t wait to get home so he and Thomas could talk. He could tell Thomas’ moves with the sword weren’t ordinary. There was skill and familiarity. An old habit. There was grace and confidence that Alastair had never seen before in him. His lover had more secrets than Alastair imagined.

They arrived at the small building where they rented a room from a sulky woman with strict rules. Alastair didn’t mind. It kept the building clean and quiet.

When they entered their room, Thomas took a deep breath and turned to him. “I can explain.”

Alastair blinked. He almost smiled but resisted because of how worried Thomas looked. “I’m not mad.”

Thomas relaxed a bit. “Really?”

“No,” this time he couldn’t help himself and grinned. “I mean, my lover is an awesome sword fighter, saved us all from some asshole, was super hot while doing it and on top of that is adorably unaware how much effect it has on me.”

Thomas shook his head, embarrassment written all over it.

“Why would I be mad?” he continued. “Oh, yes! Because this same lover obviously hid something huge from me that was important to him.” Thomas’ expression slowly returned to the worried one, “But you know what? I’m not mad as I probably should be because I’m a reasonable man who doesn't want to worry his lover even more.”

There was a small smile on Thomas’ lips. “Lies,” he said. “You just think it’s hot.”

“This certainly helps,” Alastair admitted.

They watched each other for a few seconds and broke into smiles. Thomas looked away, rubbing the back of the neck and Alastair watched him with amusement. He stepped closer to him and gently took his hands in his. He kissed Thomas’ knuckles and just held them.

“Really, Tom,” he whispered. “What was that?”

Thomas signed. “Let's change first, okay?”

In the next twenty minutes they showered and changed to more comfortable clothes they wore only at home.

Alastair occasionally looked at Thomas. He looked troubled and absent. Alastair felt a little bad. Maybe he could leave it be. If Thomas looked so anxious, was it worth it going through this conversation? But he rejected the thought. Sometimes hard conversations were needed. He needed to know what was going on Thomas' head. He had to know about his past.

Thomas sat on the bed, crossed legs, each foot under the opposite knee. Alastair took a chair from the table and faced him, leaning on the backrest.

Thomas was looking at the floor. He laughed nervously. “I don’t know where to start.”

“Tell me how you learned to fight,” Alastair suggested softly.

Thomas looked at the window then. And he began.

“Once, I was a knight,” Thomas said. “When I was seventeen I graduated on top of the class - one of the first three. I wanted to serve the royal family and become a knight like my father. He’s the captain of an elite guard that serves and protects the royal family. There was nothing more I wanted than to become a knight and be Christopher’s bodyguard. He’s one of my best friends and my cousin, godson of the king.”

Alastair noticed how he’s talking in past tense. “What changed?” he whispered.

Thomas took a deep breath.

“We were out to celebrate my little cousin’s birthday,” he said, quietly. “Only family and a few close friends were there. But in the middle of it, we were attacked. We tried to protect the ones who couldn’t fight - the birthday boy, Alexander, who was only three years old, Christopher, my mother, a few other guests. And of course Queen Charlotte and King Henry. It happened in such a way that my big sister and I were partners in the battle. She didn’t have the same training as me but as children of the guard’s captain we knew how to hold a sword from a young age. It was chaos. She… Barbara was stabbed. In an attempt to protect her fiancé, Oliver, who died from his wounds a few hours later. One another guest, Jesse, was also slayed, trying to protect his sister, Grace.”

Thomas took a deep, shaking breath. Alastair wanted to hug him but knew the story wasn’t finished. Thomas continued.

“We never found out who was behind the attack. Months of investigation and none of us found even the slightest lead that could provide answers. We have only rumours,” Alastair could see how frustrated and bitter Thomas was over this. He silently took Thomas' hand in his and squeezed. Thomas squeezed in return. “After this… I felt like a failure. Everyone was sad or angry, or both. I couldn’t look at a sword because it reminded me of her. Everything hurted. I felt like an open wound.”

“I decided to leave. I took the money I had been saving over the years, left a note saying they don’t need to worry about me or search for me. I couldn’t live like that anymore. This place became a house of ghosts and sorrows. It has been a few years since then. I send them letters now and then, to let them know I'm alive and well.”

Thomas shrugged. He looked at Alastair and blinked a few times to chase the tears away.

Alastair stood up. Thomas took a shaky breath and Alastair sat next to him, hugging him. Thomas buried his face in Alastair’s neck.

“Alas,” he whispered with a hoarse voice.

“I’m here,” Alastair said, kissing the top of his head. “I’ll never leave your side.”

They ended up lying in the bed. With his head on Alastair’s chest, he could tell when Thomas dozed off. His sleep was restless, a frown on his face. Alastair gently stroked his hair, wishing he could do more.

Alastair fell asleep many hours later, Thomas’ tale echoing in his mind.

•

“What a chilly evening,” Armin said cheerfully as Thomas, Alastair and a few other people walked around, working. Alastair had never thought there was so much work in a tavern. Armin had shown them the basics the other day but he was still unprepared for all the little tasks that had to be done. The table had to be cleaned from the dust, the alcohol should be put out of the basement, the glasses had to be washed up, the food products checked out - the list was endless.

They were the newbies. As they came, Armin introduced them to the rest of the staff and put them to work.

Alastair was watching Thomas with the corner of his eye. He was at the bar, talking with a girl from the other employees. She laughed at something he said and shook her head with a smile.

Alastair was glad to see his lover smiling. After last night he was worried Thomas would be haunted by bad memories or regret he told Alastair his story.

“Yo!” a brunet guy threw an apron at him. Alastair caught it. “We’re the waiters for the first shift. I’ll be teaching you.”

Time moves fast when you’re busy. The tavern had more clients than he expected. Apparently it had been closed for a while because Armin had to travel for the wedding of one of his sons. He found out the only family he had in the city were his daughter, her husband and their child, the little girl.

Alastair was fascinated by all the stories and gossip he heard. Even as his shift as a waiter was over and he took Thomas’ place in the bar, he heard so much. The most curious thing for him was the whispered gossip about two pretty girls, new in town, who were searching for something. Or somebody. Alastair could tell they didn’t care that much but did it for the sake of the gossip.

Alastair looked at Thomas who was just starting his own shift as a waiter. Their eyes met and Thomas grinned. Alastair smiled in return.

•

“Our turn, big guy,” said a short girl while putting an apron on. Thomas already had one. He turned his gaze away from Alastair to look at her. “Get one of these,” she said, grabbing a pencil and a small notebook. “There aren’t many people now. The hours of the morning are lazy during the weekdays.”

Thomas came to realize she wasn’t wrong. There were a few regular clients that came to chat with Armin more than anything. It was nice. Thomas hated crowds so he loved the quiet, slow atmosphere.

His shift was almost over so he started to collect and wash the dishes. Almost half of the staff had already left and Alastair and Thomas were almost done for the night too.

Thomas was cleaning a table when he accidentally stumbled upon someone.

“I’m so sorry, I-” Thomas stopped mid sentence. Widened pale grey eyes were staring back at him, as surprised as him.

“Grace?” he whispered.

“Thomas,” she uttered. She put her hand in front of her month. Then she jumped and hugged him, her hands surprisingly strong. He wrapped his arms around her and memories washed over him. Tears filled his eyes.

When they let go of each other Grace wiped away the tears rolling down her face. She laughed.

“Good gods! We have a lot to talk about. A lot.”

“We have,” Thomas smiled. “We really have.”

He looked at Armin who was talking with someone at the bar. Alastair was watching them with a questioning look.

“I’m working right now,” Thomas said. “How about we meet after ten minutes? My shift is almost over.”

“You work in a tavern?” Grace said with astonishment.

Thomas snorted. “Not the worst job I have had.”

Grace looked at him, really looked. “We have so, so much to talk about indeed.”

•

With glossy eyes but a big smile on his face Thomas approached Alastair on the bar.

“What’s going on?” he asked. He didn't know what to think as he watched how Thomas and the girl hugged like they were old friends.

“This… this is Grace,” Thomas said, sounding like he couldn't believe it himself. “Do you remember when I mentioned her?”

Alastair nodded. The girl whose brother got killed in the same attack as Thomas’ sister.

“We have never been that close but she’s one of Christopher’s best friends,” he said. “It was so good to see her...” Alastair smiled at Thomas’ warm expression. He could tell he had missed her. “We agreed we’ll talk after I’m done with work.”

“You probably have a lot to catch up on,” Alastair said, smiling. He added, unsure. “I can wait for you if...”

“Actually,” Thomas said. “I… Do you want to come with me?” he smiled sheepishly. “I want the people that are important to me to know each other.”

Alastair’s smile was big when he answered. “I would love to.”

They said goodbye to Armin and the few members of the staff that were left for the morning shift. Thomas was searching for Grace in the room but she was nowhere to be seen. They left the tavern. The morning was warm with a cool breeze that made the weather feel a little more chill than it actually was. The sun hasn’t risen yet.

Alastair spotted the girl - Grace - not far away from the tavern, looking at the sky. She was wearing a hat this time that was hiding her hair under it. She looked at them and Thomas smiled.

They approached her, half hidden in the shadows. She looked suspiciously at Alastair.

“Grace,” Thomas said. He looked at Alastair with shining eyes. “Meet Alastair Carstairs, the love of my life,” Alastair’s chest felt warm inside. Without realizing, a smile appeared on his face. “And Alastair, meet Grace Cartraight, a good friend of mine.”

Grace gave Alastair a startled look.

“Wow. You didn’t waste time in the big world, did you, Tom?”

Thomas laughed softly. “I even don’t know where to begin.”

Grace smiled as well. “Do you wanna go somewhere we can talk?”

They ended up in Thomas and Alastair’s place. Grace’s flat was too far away and they didn’t want to go to another tavern.

Grace gave him curious glances once in a while. He was doing the same. Thomas was oblivious to how they were observing each other. Grace was rather short but everyone looked short next to Thomas. Her hair was pale blonde, almost white. She wasn’t frowning but wasn’t smiling either. She listened. And she was smart. Probably smarter than most people realized.

Alastair made tea for the three of them before he sat with them on the kitchen table. Thomas just finished the story of one of his journeys after he left the palace. Alastair has heard it before but he liked how Thomas was telling stories.

“Anyway,” Thomas said, shaking his head as Grace laughed. “Enough about me. Tell me about yourself,” a tension creeped in his face. “Don’t take this the wrong way, I’m happy to see you but… why are you here, Grace?”

Her smile faded. She opened her mouth but hesitated. She gave Alastair a quick glance. Thomas saw it.

He took Alastair’s hand in his.

“Whatever you have to say to me, you can say it in front of him,” he held her gaze. “Anything.”

Grace slowly nodded. She took a deep breath.

“Thomas,” she said quietly. “Things in the palace aren’t too good. Haven’t been for a while.”

Alastair could almost feel how Thomas’ body tensed next to him. “What do you mean? Is everyone okay?”

Grace shook her head. “No, I mean, yes, everyone is fine, but,” she nervously looked around, like someone could overhear them in the empty apartment. “We got information that leads us to believe there is a traitor among us… and whoever was responsible for the attack four years ago, is planning on trying again.”

“What?” Thomas all but jumped out of his chair. “No,” he shook his head. “I can’t...”

Grace looked pained. “I know it’s shocking. And quite unbelievable. But...” she leaned towards them. “Thomas, there had been rumours. Rumours all over the queendom about a mysterious someone who sells something that “gives you a new life” and can “give you a new home”. A few months before the first attack our spies heard about them but no one paid attention. But recently exactly the same thing has been going on around. It’s too specific not to notice.”

Grace took a breath and took a sip from her tea. She gently put it back on the table but didn’t let go of the cup.

“The queen is not taking any chances,” she continued. “Extremely small circle of people know about this. The Lightwoods are aware. After Gabriel almost died and Barbara’s death… Charlotte decided they had the right to be aware. I know because of Jesse,” her knuckles had gone white from gripping the cup. “Not even Matthew and Benji know. Oh, and Kamala knows too, after what happened to her trying to defend Anna. She’s here with me actually.”

“Wait, I can understand Benji but why not tell Matthew? He’s their son. Does that mean Charles knows?” Thomas said, vibrating with anxious energy. “And Kamala is here with you?”

Grace made a face. “I know you have questions…”

“You bet!”

“...but let’s take it one by one,” Grace said, exhaling. “First: Charles has no idea about any of this. He’s on a diplomatic mission in another country for nine months. He’ll not be home until the end of the year. Kamala and I are here to investigate, of a sort. The queen sent us to find the source of the seller. But… at this point is just a suspicion with too little facts to support it,” she looked tired as she said it. “This city is our last try before we go home,” she grinned at them. “But then I stumbled into you.”

Thomas tried to return the smile but Alastair could see his worry. He was silent for a while.

“You didn’t say anything about Benji and Matthew,” he said quietly.

Grace signed. “Matthew went on a trip a few weeks ago, the same time Kamala and I did. He won’t be back for a while. And Benji… Charlotte decided he shouldn’t know.”

“Why?” Thomas sounded genuinely surprised. “He practically grew up training to be a guard and then a knight. And he was there three years ago. He fought like the rest of us.”

Grace shrugged. “Not everyone that was there knows about this, Tom. The queen is very careful who knows about this and if there is even the slightest chance you may be the traitor...”

“Guilty until proven innocent,” Thomas said bitterly.

“Something like that,” Grace said. “It's a high risk even telling you this. But… I know Charlotte would let you know about it,” but even as she said it she gave Alastair a wary look. Thomas squeezed his hand under the table.

“I must go,” she said and got up, putting on her hat. They also got up, following her to the door.

“Can we see each other again soon?” Thomas said. “And Kamala?”

Grace smiled, “I was going to suggest the same. How about we come for lunch?”

Thomas turned to Alastair with a questioning look. He nodded.

“Okay then,” he smiled, turning back to Grace. “Lunch it is.”

As the door closed after Grace, anxiety creeped over Thomas' face. Alastair could almost see the hundreds of thoughts circling in Thomas’ head.

“Thomas,” Alastair said. “Breath.”

“I’m sorry, I...” Thomas took a deep breath. “I’m fine.”

He gently took his hand and led him to sit on the bed. “You’re not fine. And it’s understandable why.”

“My family… Gods, Alastair. What if something bad happens again and I’m not there to help? What if someone dies? What if-”

“Tom,” Alastair cupped his face, still standing in front of him. He looked him in the eyes. “One breath after another, okay? Breath with me. Yes, yes. Good. Very good.”

Alastair tried his best to sound calm and his voice to be even. Thomas listened to him, following the instructions. With one last breath he opened his eyes and tried to smile at his lover. Alastair carefully let him go. “Better?”

Thomas nodded. He got up and started walking around the small room, rubbing his face. The worst was prevented but it couldn’t take the worry away.

No matter that most people thought about Thomas as an expressive person therefore easy to read, Alastair knew better. He knew Thomas would hide the pain away, trying to protect the others from it. He may be bleeding to death but he'd smile and suggest having a cup of tea. At the same time he wouldn’t lie if asked. Or at least if Alastair asked.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he said.

Thomas ran a hand through his hair. “I’m just… anxious. I can’t believe what’s happening. ”

“You want to go help them,” Alastair said.

“I…” Thomas made a face. He stopped walking. “Of course I do. But I would never drag you into my family's problems.”

“Don't speak nonsense,” Alastair got up as well and looked him in the eyes. “We’re going. Your business is my business.”

Thomas' eyes watered. He cupped Alastair's face and kissed him, gently pulling him closer.

“What did I do to deserve you?” he whispered against his lips.

“Probably saved a kingdom in a past life,” Alastair said with a smile. Thomas laughed softly and kissed Alastair’s nose. His lover looked at him then, serious. “I’m not going to back off because problems appear in front of us, Thomas. Hell, I ran away with you. I can’t scare me off that easily.”

Thomas smiled again, shaking his head. “You’re awesome, you know that?”

“It doesn’t hurt being reminded,” Alastair said with a sly smile and pulled Thomas for another kiss.

•

Kamala was as beautiful as Thomas remembered her. Her laugh was warm but sharp and her brown eyes were shining with kindness and mischief. When Thomas left they both were almost children. She looked more mature now. There was new quietness in her. He couldn’t help but notice how little she moved her left arm. Her injury from that day.

Her eyes were more careful now as she watched around. But they softened as her gaze laid on Thomas.

“Tom,” she sighed as they hugged. It was a long hug but Thomas didn’t mind. Perhaps it was something they both needed. She was close with Anna and the best friend of Eugenia so he definitely had spent more time with her.

Both girls reminded him of home. He introduced her to Alastair and Thomas thought they liked each other immediately. Kamala had that effect on people.

“So,” she said after she took a sip from her tea. “I heard you found out about our situation.”

“Yes, I did,” Thomas sighed.

Kamala and Grace looked at each other.

“We want you to come with us,” Grace said straightforwardly. “We need all the allies we can get. And… the Lightwoods would be out of their minds to see you.”

“We know,” Kamala quickly. “That you already have a life here and don’t-”

“I’ll come.”

“...to leave but- what?”

“I’ll come,” Thomas repeated. “Well,” he smiled. “We will come.”

Kamala blinked at him. She hesitated. “Tom...”

“I know who you are!” Grace said suddenly. Everyone looked at her, startled. Her eyes were on Alastair. “Your name… I have heard it before but couldn’t recall where from. But I do now. You’re Prince Esfandiyār Jahanshah.”

Kamala’s eyes widened. Alastair looked a little uncomfortable.

“I use this name mostly for more formal situations and with relatives but yes, that’s me. So?”

“Oh gods,” Kamala said, stunned. “You’re that prince who ran away with his lover? This is Benji’s favorite tale.”

Grace turned to Thomas, hit by the same realization.

“You’re that lover?”

Thomas smiled, embarrassed but a little amused. “Guilty.”

“Wow,” Kamala said and then laughed. “I want to hear the story. All of it.”

Grace rolled her eyes. “We have more urgent tasks,” she said. And then added. “But same.”

Alastair laughed a little. Thomas loved to hear his laugh.

“I think,” he said. “We should come up with a plan of what to do.”

“Agreed,” Grace said. “It will look suspicious if you two just pop up in the court.”

“In many ways,” added Kamala. She looked at Alastair. “Hmm. Perhaps we can use your royal identity somehow.”

Alastair frowned. “If Queen Charlotte is that picky who to trust, is it really a good idea for some foreign prince to knock on her door?”

“If we do it right,” Kamala said. “She will welcome you. She doesn’t want anyone to think anything is wrong.”

“And if we come incognito… as a “distraction” for the queen...” Thomas said.

“The real culprit will show themself,” Grace finished. “No one will pay special attention to us.”

“That’s a shitty plan,” Alastair announced.

“It’s not perfect,” Grace agreed. “But if they think everyone is too busy being careful around some foreign prince… that they don’t look at them anymore... it would be easier to catch them making a mistake.”

“So basically, I’ll be the bait?” Alastair arched an eyebrow.

“No,” Kamala said. “We all will be.”

•

“Are you sure this is safe?” Alastair said, suspiciously eyeing the liquid.

“Of course not,” Grace said, no trace of worry in her voice. “We just spent lots of money on a leery potion. And the woman did say it may have side effects.”

Thomas was smelling it. “It doesn’t smell bad. Just strange. Like apples and gasoline.”

“Guys...”

“Relax, Prince Charming,” Kamala said. “We’ll drink it, not you.”

“That’s exactly why I’m worried.”

“We’re wasting time,” Grace said. “No point in reassuring each other how everything will be alright. We do it or we don’t - no one in the palace should recognize us,” then she lifted the small bottle to her lips and drank. Thomas made a face and did the same. Kamala followed.

“I don’t feel different.” Grace said, touching her face.

“Me neither,” Kamala said. “Maybe it takes time...”

Kamala, Grace and Thomas were looking at each other curiously and then with almost comically surprised expressions when they saw the two unfamiliar faces in front of them, blinking at each other.

Alastair watched the three strangers in his apartment.

“Damn,” he stared at them, dazed. “Damn.”

•

Kamala’s words were echoing in his head. Don’t show you know something is wrong. This is just a random queendom you stopped by for help.

Queen Charlotte looked at him more curiously than hostilly. Alastair decided this was a good sign. He tried his best to look embarrassed.

“Your Majesty,” he bowed low. “Please forgive me for my interruption of your day. I hope you don’t think I’m too unmannered for invading your beautiful queendom like that. I am in desperate need of help.”

Queen Charlotte wasn't a tall woman. She wasn’t wearing expensive jews except the crown on her head that was simple but majestic. Her brown eyes were intelligent and serious but not unkind. She smiled at him, waving a hand at one servant.

“Please, bring some tea for our guests. Even an uninvited stranger deserves hospitality.”

Alastair bowed again. “I’m in awe of your generosity, Your Majesty.”

He looked at her again and secretly took a breath before speaking again. This was the most crucial part.

“I am prince Esfandiyār Jahanshah from a monarchy part of the Eastern empire. I also go by Alastair Carstairs. I’m travelling with my companions,” he waved at Thomas, Kamala and Grace, standing behind him - looking like completely different people - who were still bowing. “I feel silly but we got lost. It’s just the four of us and we have had no royal guardians or contact with our families for weeks. Even months. We were robbed and had no choice but to ask for help. We couldn’t risk revealing our identities to strangers, afraid they may use it against my family. We know around this part of the continent you and a few others have friendly relationships with my land.”

Alastair cringed inside. The next words should not sound as cheeky as it was in his head. Or pathetic.

“I realize I am asking a lot… And I wouldn’t blame you if you refuse. But is it possible to accept us in your palace for a few weeks until a letter reaches my family? I hope I’m not abusing your hospitality.”

The queen was watching him - them - for a few seconds. Alastair was sweating. Worry twisted his insides.

“Please, sit,” Charlotte said. They did as asked, facing her. Alastair was tempted to look at Thomas, to check on him but he couldn’t risk it.

“Prince Esfandiyār,” she started. Then stopped. “Am I pronouncing it right?”

Alastair nodded. But even if she didn’t, Alastair probably wouldn’t correct her anyway. Most monarchs didn’t like to be corrected.

“You realize what sudden and odd request you’re asking of me,” she continued. “I appreciate that. I can’t let just any random prince or princess stay in my palace without any notice.”

No, Alastair thought. Panic was rising in him.

“However,” Charlotte said. “I believe it won’t be a problem to stay here under a name different from Jahanshah. It’s quite a known name, as you are aware.”

Alastair released a deep breath in relief.

“Of course, Your Majesty,” he bowed his head. “I’ll stay here as Alastair Carstairs. I hope it won’t be too much trouble for you. You have my endless graduate.”

Charlotte smiled at him. She stood up. The rest did as well.

“You will be escorted to your rooms. I guess you want to be next to each other?”

“If this is possible,” Alastair bowed his head in obeyance. “My companions are very dear to me and for months we had slept next to each other.”

The queen smiled unexpectedly warmly. “Then you are a lucky man, Prince Alastair.”

“Absolutely true,” Alastair agreed sincerely.

At this moment the servant came back with their tea. She put on the table, serving firstly at the Queen, then the rest of them.

“Thank you, Martha,” Charlotte said. Alastair was surprised she knew the servant's girl name. Most royals didn't bother. “Would you ask a guard to call for the Lightwoods? Apologize for the trouble at this time but it's urgent.”

The girl bowed low. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

As she left the room, Charlotte turned to them again. “I hope you are not offended by the heavy guard you'll have here. It's the good old caution that helps one survive.”

“I expect nothing less,” he smiled to show he didn't mind. He had to look at easy. If he was just a Prince looking for help then he had nothing to hide.

A sharp knock on the door interrupted their conversation.

“Come in,” Charlotte said before drinking from her cup.

The Lightwoods entered the room.

•

To be continued...

Words: 6 030

Four months of writing, three weeks of editing, HERE IT IS FINALLY

And if you're fan of 19 Days... I hope you caught the reference hehe

- Alec isn’t very big on gifts but when he does give gifts, he makes them meaningful.

- For Jace, well, because they’re parabatai, he gives Jace lots of spaghetti for his bath.

- He never let him live it down when clary told him about it.

- He also gave him a large box of stuffed ducks

- (A forbidden video footage in Magnus’s phone has one of the best warriors screaming and hiding behind his wife while Simon, Alec and Izzy cry from laughing so hard)

- In all seriousness, his actual gifts were something he thought hard about.

- Clary helped him out a bit. (So did Magnus with his knowledge on Herondales)

- Him and Magnus were visiting Tessa when he got ideas.

- Apparently, Tessa didn’t put away daggers that belonged to a certain Carstairs.

- She didn’t put away a few letters too.

- Letters sent from another Lightwood, at another time, to another love.

- “Magnus, there was another gay Lightwood-“ “darling, I know” “and yOU DIDNT TELL ME?!”

- Which is how he got the idea of carving a quote into a dagger.

- In the end, his actual gifts were a new dagger, carved with one of the things he says about Clary (thanks to their visit to Cirenworth), a book (signed by the author and first edition, courtesy of Tessa), and some quality hair gel.

- (Jace loved it. He hugged a very reluctant Alec. Magnus and Clary both have pictures)

- For Isabelle, it was really very simple.

- Every time he went out with Magnus and Izzy on one of their many shopping sprees, Izzy would gawk at a beautiful dress she saw.

- So really. Very simple.

- He also gave her a bracelet which is really just a weapon that’s concealed.

- Thanks to Magnus who was talking about Henry Fairchild and his genius inventions. And the inventions he would make for Charlotte.

- Alec thought Henry’s ideas were genius which was how his idea was formed.

- (Isabelle wears the bracelet daily and the dress for special parties and occasions. She loves it)

- For Clary, he was strolling around with his family then came across this Jem gem

- He loved it.

- But he did give her some art materials that he saw while shopping and a duck onesie in case her and Jace have a child.

- (Clary says she hates the mug but is seen drinking from it multiple times. She adores the onesie and uses the paint so much it runs out after about a week or two)

- For Simon, he really couldn’t care less.

- He is forced to give a present to him because Izzy threatened to cook for him and his family.

- He did give it a lot of thought tho.

- Since him and Simon bond over being archers, he decided to give him his old bow.

- Magnus suggested it since Alec wasn’t using it anymore and it was still in pretty good shape.

- (Simon would have hugged Alec on his own if he wasn’t so scared of him. Izzy forces him to)

- For Magnus, well, if you asked him he’d say he didn’t panic but spoiler alert he did.

- He got the idea while he was talking with Magnus.

- Magnus was telling him about his best memory with his family.

- Which is how Alec got his idea. But he needed some help. Tessa’s help.

- Well, he really just needed to ask Tessa about the bracelet she still wears.

- When he asked, he only received a smile. A bittersweet smile.

- “It was given to me by Will. He had Magnus himself enchant it for me. So yes, I think he would really love that gift. It would remind him of good times. I’ll help with it”

- He ended up giving Magnus a locket.

- Not just a locket. A magical locket. One that contains his favourite memory.

- And Magnus can put previous memorable memories and future ones too.

- He also gave him a shit ton of glitter that’s safe for clothes.

- (Both gifts earned him many kisses which would’ve sufficed for a Christmas gift in Alec’s opinion)

- For Max and Rafe, he decided to spoil his children with all the toys they want.

- He made them write a list of things they want.

- The man was struggling to find gifts okay?

- Him and Magnus got them everything in the list.

- (He got very happy kids excitedly opening their gifts. He was rewarded with hugs and big, toothy grins)

- Well, maybe Christmas and gifts aren’t so bad, thought Alec as he watched his family’s happy faces.

- I changed my mind they are, Alec thought while chasing a Max who got a knife and a Rafe with a whip.

@tscauthorsnet

Tag list (I forgot I had one of these): @fortheloveofthecarstairs @thehotfaeriethreesome @shadowrunner2000 @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @surrounded-by-exquisite-clutter @gabtapia @niastormbolastairkanejsambucky @all-thestoriesaretrue

In all honesty, Christopher had no idea why he’d volunteered to watch Grace overnight. Maybe it was because he felt sorry for her. Perhaps it was because of pity, but he’d be lying if he said that she didn’t intrigue him.

She sat on the floor, her head buried in her hands. She hadn’t said anything to him or the rest of the Merry Thieves since James had told them to watch her in case she “tried anything.”

Christopher wasn’t fully aware of what had happened between James and Grace, but he knew better than to ask questions.

“Can I get you anything?” Christopher asked her. “Perhaps some tea?”

Her voice was muffled by her hands, and he struggled to hear her. “You shouldn’t be offering your prisoner tea, Mr. Lightwood.”

“You’re not a prisoner.”

She pulled her head out of her hands and laughed, and the sound sent a shiver down his spine. Her eyes darted across the room, looking at anything but him. “What would you call me, then? An unwilling guest? I’m trapped here, and you’re trapped with me.”

“I don’t feel so trapped,” he said. “And you shouldn’t, either.”

“And why is that? Does a criminal deserve to feel free?”

“You’re not a criminal, Miss Blackthorn.”

She winced at her surname. “Please, just call me Grace.”

“You are not a criminal, Grace. You did what you had to do in order to survive. Any of us would have done the same if we were put into your situation. It isn’t right of us to blame you for that.”

She sighed, curling in on herself further. Her voice was barely audible. “Well, I appreciate the sentiment, but I’m not quite sure your friends feel the same way.”

“It doesn’t matter what they think,” Christopher said. “It just matters what the clave will think.”

“Don’t even get me started on what the clave is going to think. They may have been the ones to get me into this mess, but they would never get me out of it.”

“What do you mean? The clave— the clave can help you.”

She laughed bitterly. “They can. But they won’t. Do you truly think they’ll sympathize with the accomplice of a prince of hell?”

“Unwilling accomplice,” Christopher insisted. “That’s what you were. And the Mortal Sword will prove it. And then they’ll have to help you. My aunt Charlotte—“

“If you think she’ll go easy on me, you’re sadly mistaken. She’s not my aunt. To me, she’s just the Consul.”

He stood from his seat, crossing the room to sit next to Grace on the floor. “We will get you through this,” he whispered. “I promise you.”

She sat up, but she didn’t turn to look at him. “Don’t make promises you have no intention of keeping, Mr Lightwood.”

“Just Christopher, please. And I’ve every intention of keeping this promise.”

She froze, making eye contact with him for the first time that night. “I appreciate it, I really do, but I’m afraid you won’t have much of a say in the matter.”

One last game. A simple game of chess that determined James’ fate. This was his judgement day, a day where he would either be sent to an eternal state of bliss or the fiery pits of hell. One result he wanted, another he certainly deserved.

They sat in front of each other, the chess board the only thing separating them. James tried not to think about the way they’d arranged themselves, James with black pieces and Cordelia with white. James was darkness, and Cordelia was always, always the light. He hated that he hadn’t been able to see it sooner.

“I would like to alter the rules for this game,” said Cordelia, her voice firm and unwavering. “For every piece I take, you’ll answer one question. For each piece you take, I’ll answer one of yours.”

James did, in fact, have many questions. He nodded in agreement as Cordelia’s fingers lifted her knight, signaling the beginning of the game.

His hands shook as he moved his first piece. Cordelia was far better at chess than he was, and he knew she wouldn’t let him win.

When it really came down to it, this wasn’t a game. This was life or death.

She took the first piece, a pawn. She didn’t gloat; she’d only stared at him with the same determination she’d had back when she defended his honor and sacrificed her own.

“First question of the game,” James said with a breathy laugh that she did not return.

“Do you intend to marry Grace once we divorce?”

“No,” James said, picking up his Queen and moving it forward.

The game continued quietly until he managed to take one of her knights. “Matthew told me that he has feelings for you. Do you return them?”

“I don’t,” she said, her eyes not moving from the board. “You’ve just exchanged pieces. Your knight for mine. Why?”

“Is that your question?”

“I’ve not taken the piece yet.”

“Then take it, and I’ll answer.”

She picked up the knight, replacing it with her pawn and holding it up for James to see.

He smiled sadly, looking down at the board in order to avoid her intense gaze. He pushed a pawn forward. “I have many things that I must explain to you, and I’ve also many questions that I’d like to ask you. So I figured that exchanging pieces would let us both get one more answer.”

“Very well,” Cordelia said, moving her next piece forward.

The game continued in an agonizing silence that shook James to his very core. He was no stranger to quiet—he even preferred it over the chaotic cacophony noise sometimes made—but this was his hell. When he died, he was sure that this was what would await him past the underworld’s fiery gates. Her anger was his punishment, and her silence might as well have killed him by now.

“You’ve gotten better since we last played,” he said in an effort to break the silence.

She didn’t look up from the board. “Or you’ve gotten worse.”

He concentrated on the board once again, and realized with a start that he could take her Queen. He plucked the piece from the board, showing it to Cordelia with a forced smile. “No,” he said. “That can’t be it.”

“Are you going to ask a question or not?”

“If you do not hold feelings for Matthew, why did you go to Paris with him?”

“I had to get away,” Cordelia said, her fingers already choosing a piece to push forward.

It only took a few more turns before Cordelia took one of his rooks. “You said that you have no intention of marrying Grace once we divorce. Why not?”

Because I don’t want to divorce you, he wanted to say. Instead, he said: “Because I don’t love her. She used me, put a spell on the damned bracelet she gave me. She—“

“What?”

“I don’t love her, Cordelia.” She could never compare to you. “I never did.” It has always been you. I wish I had seen it sooner.

She cleared her throat, straightening her posture. James pretended not to notice the small smile tugging at her lips. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

Hope was a feeling James wasn’t used to. But now, it was witchlight illuminating his heart. He could only hope that it wouldn’t be extinguished.

He gave her a smile before turning his attention back to the board. He could end this game in a couple moves if he wanted to. Instead, he moved a pawn forward to a spot where Cordelia could easily take it.

She pulled the pawn from the board, setting it aside. “What do you mean she enchanted your bracelet?”

This was the question he had been dreading. As he told the story, explaining how Grace had kept him in shackles for the majority of his adolescence, he couldn’t help but wonder what would have become of him if she hadn’t.

James had heard his father talk about how his belief that he was cursed held him back in his youth. He couldn’t help but entertain the possibility of that being what happened to him. Where would he be now if he had been allowed to flourish, if he hadn’t been stuck in a cage for years on end?

The game continued on for some time, each taking pieces from each other one by one. Eventually, there were only a few pieces left on the board, and it was clear that neither of them was going to win.

“It’s a stalemate,” said Cordelia, as if she had read James’ mind. “Neither of us can win.”

“Then it’s only fair we both get to ask a question.”

“You go first.”

Against his will, James’ leg began to bounce underneath the table. “Would you give me a chance? I can’t promise that everything will work out between us, but I can sure as hell try. Daisy, do you want to do this for real?”

Cordelia’s lips curled up into the brightest smile he had ever seen. “Yeah,” she whispered, reaching over the table for his hand.

He wasn’t able to contain his grin. “What’s your question?”

“Will you marry me?”

“I already did, love.”

Cordelia huffed a laugh. “The marriage is hardly a marriage until we have the second runes.”

•

~ Past ~

Cecily looked exactly how Thomas remembered her. Sharp blue eyes, young face and black, shining hair. The same proud General she had always been. She scanned them with a suspicious, sharp look Thomas had seen before but never pointed at him. He had to remind himself he looked like a completely different person to his aunt.

Uncle Gabriel, however, was different. When Thomas last saw him he had just woken up, half of his face was covered in bandage and gauze, his skin brushed and with two broken ribs. He definitely was better now. Healther at least. There was a vicious scar across the left side of his face that continued down the neck and the chest.

Scars never worried Thomas, growing up with a mother that had one. Still, Gabriel's made him shiver. Not because he thought it's ugly. But because it was a painful reminder how Thomas - how all of them - had been a thread away from losing another family member that day.

Then he saw his parents. It was like a punch in the gut, a twist in his stomach. There wasn't any significant change in their appearances. His mother still had the same haircut, his father was wearing his old medals on his shirt. But he could see the wrinkles between their eyes, around their months and new heaviness in their shoulders.

He was reminded that they didn't lose just Barbara back then. In a way, they had lost Thomas too.

Thomas had dealt with the guilt long ago. Or at least he thought he had. He was always telling himself it was his life and he could do whatever he wanted to be happy. To feel better, to feel something different from the pain and sorrow that followed in the long weeks after Barbara's death and the sleeping Gabriel who they weren't sure would survive.

But looking at Sophie and Gideon now, the old guilt grabbed him from the inside and started playing with his organs.

“Your Majesty,“ Sophie smiled at them. At Alastair more specifically. “It's an honour for us.”

Charlotte smiled at her guests. “I'll leave you in the hands of my most trusted advisers. Excuse me.”

The queen left the room, accompanied by the servant Martha and a few guards.

“Please, sit,” said Gabriel. “The preparation of your rooms will take a while.”

The four of them sat back on the couch. Cecily stood next to the door, the rest of the Lightwoods sat in front of them.

“Tell me,” Gideon smiled at them. “What are a young prince and his companions doing so far from home?”

“It's sort of a coming of age journey,” Alastair said. Thomas couldn't see his face. He wanted to hold his hand.

He had been perfect with his role so far. It remained Thomas of the person Alastair was at the palace.

Alastair told the Lightwoods the story they had come up with. Kamala, Grace and Thomas were Alastair's closest and most trusted friends. They had wanted to travel and experience the world and see different cultures.

They liked their story. Or at least believed it. After a while they were told their rooms were ready and the Lightwoods accompanied them.

Gabriel was walking in front of them, leading, while Gideon and Sophie chatted with them. Cecily was behind. Thomas felt a little uneasy. It couldn't be more obvious they didn't trust them.

The rooms they were shown to were two pairs, each one connected to the other. Alastair and Thomas took one pair, and Grace and Kamala - the other.

Thomas waited a few minutes, making sure his family had left them alone. Then he opened the door inside his room and went to Alastair.

He was walking around the room restlessly, anxiety written all over his face.

He looked up at Thomas, relaxing a bit.

“Did we do well?” he asked.

“I think so,” Thomas said. “We can ask the girls in the morning but I would say it's all good.”

“Okay,” Alastair said, unbuttoning his shirt. “This is nice.”

“Hey,” Thomas said gently and took his hands, kissing his knuckles. “Are you okay?”

Alastair sighed and looked away. “I just… Never thought I would have to be a prince again.”

Thomas finished unbuttoning his shirt for him and took it off his shoulders. He made Alastair sit on the bed and opened the closet.

“I’m sorry you have to do it again,” Thomas said and he was sinerce. He knew how hard it was on Alastair to pretend, back then in the palace and here. He was never comfortable as a prince.

“It’s alright,” he said, his back hitting the bed, staring at the ceiling. “It’s just for a few weeks. I hope.”

Thomas turned to him. “Here,” he said. “Wear this.”

Alastair lazily got up, letting Thomas dress him up. He followed his movement, his eyes suddenly serios.

“What about you?” he asked quietly.

“What about me?” Thomas shot him a smile.

But Alastair was silent. He was watching Thomas’ face, his gaze so intense Thomas couldn’t return it.

He sighed. Stopped butting up Alastair's shirt and ran a hand through his own hair. “I… don’t want to talk about it. It’s too much.”

“Okay,” Alastair said softly.

Horrible feeling bloomed in his chest.

“I’m sorry I-”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Alastair took his face in his hands, his thumb gently brushing his cheek. “Don’t apologize. Never apologize to me.”

Thomas smiled faintly. “Sorry for-”

Alastair shut him up with a kiss.

Thomas let himself be dragged into the bed next to him. He buried his fingers into Alastair’s hair and wrapped an arm around him.

“Stay with me tonight,” Alastair murmured against his lips.

“Okay,” Thomas said with a smile on his own. “But I need to get some clothes from my closet first-”

Mischievous smile appeared on Alastair’s face. He started unbuttoning Thomas’ shirt. “You won’t need them.”

•

The next morning Alastair woke up because of someone knocking on the door. Very insistently.

Thomas was sleeping next to him. He was lying on his belly, his back an endless field of smooth skin with a few scars. He had his face turned to Alastair. Alastair was warm and comfortable. He didn’t want to get up.

“Janan,” Thomas murmured. “Who is it?”

Alastair immediately softened, hearing Thomas saying it. Especially like this. Almost asleep, unthinking - just an instinct. It was good to hear his language again.

With a murmur he got up, searching his surroundings for clothes. As he pulled on pants, he realized something. He turned. Thomas’ face. It was his own.

“Thomas,” Alastair hissed, shaking him. “Your face.”

“What…?” he muttered, still half asleep and confused.

“The damn potion,” Alastair said desperately. The fucking knocking wouldn’t stop. “Thomas, someone is knocking, they will see you!”

Thomas’ immediately opened his eyes. He was wide awake now. He jumped off the bed.

“Damn it,” he whispered fiercely as he picked his clothes from the floor. “Damn it, damn it, damn it.”

Alastair was looking at the door every two seconds. It was locked but this couldn’t stop his anxiety.

Thomas quickly left, through the door that connected their rooms. Alastair couldn’t even appreciate his naked lover properly.

Alastair opened the door, more aggressively than he intended.

“What?” he said, sounding peevish and annoyed even to himself.

In front of him was standing tall, ginger guy whose eyes curiously looked over Alastair’s shoulder. To see if there was someone in his bed, no doubt.

He smiled at Alastair and he wasn’t even faking it.

“Good morning, your highness,” he said cheerfully. “I’m sir Benji and I’ll be a guide for you and your companions while you’re here. I thought we may go for a quick walk before breakfast.”

Alastair didn’t miss the sword he was carrying on his cross. Or the badge on his sacristy that shows his status as a knight. He wasn’t just here to show them around. He was here to keep an eye on them.

“The sun has barely risen,” Alastair through gritted teeth.

“It’s already high in the sky,” he replied with the same annoying, sunny smile. “It’s up to us to follow it.”

What does this even mean?, Alastair thought.

“We need some time beforehand,” he said out aloud. “My friends may not be up.”

“Oh, I’m sure at least one of them is awake,” he grinned.

Alastair shut the door in his face.

Fifteen minutes later the four of them were in the royal gardens. Benji didn’t seem to mind the waiting or the delay. He was a never ending ball of sunshine and smiles. Alastair despised it.

At least he didn’t have to pretend he was seeing the place for the first time, unlike his friends who were raised here. Benji was talking about rare flowers and which days the book club’s meetings were. There was a fountain in the middle of it, at which they stopped. Alastair was smelling some flowers nerby Thomas. He wanted to sit next to him, to hold his hands but didn’t dare.

Kamala took some bread to feed the ducks and Grace sat on the edge of the fountain, enjoying the sun. Her eyes never stopped moving around, careful who was watching them.

“So,” Benji said. “Are you any good with the sword?”

Alastair frowned and looked at him. He had been quiet so far. But his words weren't directed at Alastair.

He was talking to Thomas.

•

“Um,” Thomas said. “Kind of. I'm decent enough, I think.”

Benji smiled at him. Thomas knew this smile very well. The sole purpose of it was to charm.

“Oh, really?” Benii said. He was sitting next to Thomas. They weren’t touching but Benji was sitting close enough. “I would love to have a sparring with you some time,” he put a hand on the bench behind Thomas and said, with a lowered voice and a raised eyebrow. “I can teach you some things. One or two that only a knight would know.”

With the corner of his eye he saw how Alastair's hands clenched into fists.

“This is really kind of you,” Thomas smiled nervously, clearing his throat. He was starting to sweat. “But… um…”

He was trying to come up with an excuse but his mind was empty. They were stuck here for weeks, with nothing to do but look around and read books. He didn’t have anything better to do.

“If you don't like this idea,” Benji said. “We can go on a picnic. There's an amazing place, just at the garden's corner. A gazebo that is quite cozy and-”

“Shouldn't we go already?”

Alastair was standing in front of them, his expression hard as a stone, with crossed arms in front of his chest.

Benji blinked at him and stood up, his usual smile back. “If you want, your highness.”

Kamala eyed them, raising an eyebrow at Thomas. He shrugged helplessly.

“We already went around half of the garden,” Benji said. “The rest isn’t that interesting and part of it is reserved for the royal family.”

“I see,” Alastair said. “Let’s walk then.”

“As you wish,” Benji smiled brightly.

•

Alastair wanted to knock the teeth out of his mouth.

Benji wouldn’t shut up about flowers and the history of every object they passed. He seemed immune to heat and tiresome.

“Oh, right there,” he said. “My favourite spot. The playground.”

A few kids were there, playing in the sand, laughing. Benji looked at them with a soft smile.

“Why is it your favourite?” Kamala asked. She sounded genuinely curious.

“I have good memories here,” Benji shot her a smile. “I played with the Lightwoods kids in this very place. I’m still good friends with some of them.”

“Really?” Alastair said. This was the first thing that caught his attention since the beginning of the walk. “Can we meet them?”

Benji was silent a second too long. “Maybe some of them, yes,” he said. For the first time his smile faded a little.

Alastair couldn’t stop himself. He knew he was being an asshole. Thomas would be so mad at him.

“I heard General Gideon has a son,” he said. “That is an excellent swordfighter. Can we meet him?”

Benji stopped abdurbly and looked at him, startled. He gazed at Alastair’s eyes, for the first time really looking at him.

Then he laughed. “Someone did their homework, didn’t they?”

They started walking again. Alastair caught Thomas’ glare behind Benji’s shoulder. He looked away. Oh, he would be in trouble later.

“If you’re curious,” Benji said. “His name is Thomas,” he smiled. A smile reserved only for people dear to you. “He is indeed good with the sword. But I didn’t think he’s that famous. Or at least not more famous than me,” he winked at Thomas saying this.

He. Winked. At. Him.

Alastair filled with an ugly feeling, burning sensation in the chest or stomach. His jaw hurted by clenching his teeth so hard.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he said sharply. He had to remind himself Benji had no idea that was the same Thomas he was talking about. “Will we meet them?”

Benji shot him a quick look. “Unfortunately, no. Not all of them. Some of them… are not here. Thomas, for example, is… well, he is not in the palace,” sadness creeped into his voice.

“I see,” Alastair said, looking straight ahead of him.

He dared to glance at Thomas for a second. He was looking at the ground, his hands behind his back.

“How about we go back for breakfast?” Benji suggested. His usual sunny attitude was back.

“Sounds good,” Alastair said neutrally.

•

Thomas closed the door to his room and locked it.

He started to undress, not bothering to fold the clothes. He grabbed the shirt he was sleeping with and he pulled it over his shoulders.

All day Benji was with them. They didn’t have a second to breathe, couldn’t even go to the damn toilet without him checking you in thirty seconds. He couldn’t talk with Alastair.

A soft knock came from the door that his and Alastair’s rooms shared.

“Come in,” Thomas said without hiding the emotion from his voice. It was mostly anger. And a little hurt.

Alastair came in, quietly closing the door after himself.

“I’m sorry,” he said straight ahead.

Thomas lowered his head. His back was still to Alastair.

“This was shitty, Alas.”

“I know,” he said and Thomas heard how he made a step closer.

“You could have asked me,” Thomas said, rubbing a hand through his hair. “I would have told you everything. About Benji, the palace. What was that about?”

Alastair took a deep breath and held it in. “I just don’t like him, okay? He is annoying.”

“Bullshit,” Thomas snapped. “I know you. This isn’t a good enough reason for you.”

Alastair’s lips pressed together in a slight grimace.

“It wasn’t right to ask like that,” he said. “I’m sorry. I guess part of me wanted to see how other people view you.”

Thomas didn’t say anything. He looked away. “I should go to bed.”

“No, wait-” Alastair shortened the distance between them and grabbed his arm.

“If you won’t tell me the truth, there is no point-”

“I was jealous, okay?” Alastair yelled. “He is this childhood friend with whom you played and trained, knowing for years, and are apparently close with even as a grown ups, and who flirts with you shamelessly even when he has no idea it’s actually you-” he stopped absurdly. He turned away, letting go of Thomas. “Part of me felt insecure and he is so obviously into you that…” he took a deep breath and said, quieter. “I got scared that now, as you are back home and meet all your family and friends you will… you will… nevermind.”

“Wait,” Thomas took his arm. He gently turned him so he could look at his face. “I assure you, you have nothing, nothing, to be jealous of.”

Alastair looked at him. His dark eyes were a sky Thomas could lose himself into.

“I love you,” he whispered. “You are the air I breathe. To be apart from you would be as painful as cutting off my very flesh,” he took Alastair’s hand and kissed it lightly, tenderly. “You are my heart, Alastair. I could never look at someone else when you’re here. It’s just impossible.”

He added, after a second of hesitation. “Benji’s flirting… It doesn’t mean anything. Not really. I have seen it countless times. He charms his lovers this way but it’s rarely something more for him. Believe me, I’m not special.”

Alastair exhaled.

“Okay,” he said. He squeezed Thomas’ hand. He looked up at him. “Can I spend the night with you?”

Thomas smiled. “Please.”

Alastair kissed him quickly, and against his lips whispered, “I love you too.”

Thomas’ heart melted in his chest.

Alastair turned away, and walked to the door to get some clothes for sleeping. When he opened it, he turned and said, “I still hate the ginger though.”

Thomas couldn’t help his laugh, even when Alastair went to the other room.

•

Almost two weeks have passed since they were in the palace. They didn’t meet almost anyone else besides Benji and sometimes Gabriel or Sophie. They get to know a gardener that they passed every morning on their way to the garden. An older woman that served them their meals that every time looked like she wanted to poison them. A messenger boy and a few knights who were friends with Benji also stopped by.

Their interactions with people were pretty limited. Grace seemed stressed and sleep-dehydrated. Thomas suspected she was going out during the night to do her own investigation. They tried to ask her a few times but she wouldn’t say anything. Kamala seemed wary.

“I have a bad feeling,” she said. “Grace shouldn’t do this.”

Thomas couldn’t agree more. He had plans to talk her out of it. Or at least to talk with them about what she was doing.

The morning though Thomas felt unusually tired. The heat wasn’t that bad and they even skipped the walk before breakfast. Why was he so worn out? He felt like sleeping had drowned the energy out of his body instead of giving it.

Even when they sat to eat this feeling didn’t pass. He could barely make it past the main dish. In fact, he didn’t. A little before the dessert was served, he stood up.

“Excuse me,” he said breathily. “I’m not feeling well.”

Alastair looked at him immediately, not even trying to hide the worry on his face.

Before Thomas left the room, he saw how he whispered something to Grace, both looking after him.

He opened the door to his room, not bothering to close it after himself. He knew Grace would come soon.

He took off his shoes, unbuttoned his shirt and practically collapsed into the bed. He felt feverish and cold, his head heavy.

“Tom?” Grace’s voice reached his ears.

“I’m fine,” he croaked with closet eyes. “Just... just need some sleep.”

He heard how she moved around his room.

“Thomas?” She was next to him now. He felt her cold hand on his forehead. “Oh gods, you have a fever.”

More movement, some worried murmur and he felt cold hands against his face again.

“Thomas,” she said, her voice rough. He opened his eyes. She was looking down at him, worried. “It’s the stupid potion.”

“What?” he blinked.

“The potion,” she sounded on the edge of tears. “Fuck, Tom. The side effects was-”

“I…”

“Where is your bottle?”

“The nightstand,” he said. He could barely keep his eyes open. “The drawer.”

Grace opened it and grabbed it, turning it around her hands, looking for the label.

“Listen and tell me if something of this sounds familiar,” she said. And started to read.

Thomas was listening through a fog in his mind.

“Wait,” his eyes snapped open. “The previous one.”

Grace’s eyes moved above. “Can bring back past illness while the potion is consumed.”

“That’s it,” Thomas exhaled. “When I was a child I was sick. In puberty I got through it. That must be it.”

Grace squeezed her eyes. “That’s my fault,” she said with a raw voice. “I brought it. I suggested it. We should have read the damn side effects-”

“Hey, hey,” Thomas took her hand in his. “Even if we did, we still would have drank it. It’s the best we had.”

Grace took a shaky breath and blinked furiously. Her eyes were dry now and her hands were steady as she squeezed his. “We should tell Kamala and Alastair.”

“Yeah,” Thomas said, barely hearing his own voice. “We should…”

•

When he opened his eyes again he saw Alastair staring into him intensely.

He tried to smile. “Hey.”

Alastair closed his eyes. His knuckles whitened as he grabbed the handles of the chair he was sitting on. “Jigaram,” Alastair’s voice broke.

“It will be okay,” Thomas whispered. “I’ll get better when I stop drinking it. It’s not fatal. I’ll be fine.”

Alastair took a shaky breath and nodded. He gently took Thomas’ hand and kissed his fingers and knuckles, his palm and the point of the pulse of the wrist. He held on his hand a few seconds more and cautiously put it down on the bed.

“Kamala brought you some food,” he said. “The lunch finished a while ago.”

“Really?” Thomas blinked. “I… I must have slept for a few hours then.”

“Yes,” Alastair said. “Three hours and a half to be exact.”

“Oh,” he just said. He hadn’t slept that much during the day since he was a kid.

“Here,” Alastair pointed at the nightstand that was laden with food.

Thomas smiled and shook his head. “Remind me to thank Kamala later.”

•

Kamala and Grace visited them later that day.

Thomas hugged Kamala for the food. Checked if Grace was alright.

Alastair was seeing it all through a fog. The beating of his heart was loud in his ears.

“What are we going to do now?” The three of them looked at him. “About-” his voice croaked. “About the potion.”

There was a short silence.

“I can keep drinking it-”

“No,” Kamala snapped. Alastair opened his month to do the same but she was faster. “Your health isn’t a game. What if you drink it for long it becomes permanent? What if someone recognizes the sickness and finds out who you really are?”

“What other choices do we have?” Thomas said with a grimace. “If I stop, everyone will know. I can’t hide in this room forever. If they find out I’m unwell, they’d send a doctor,” he shook his head.

Grace stood up from her seat. “The potion effect will last for the whole day and night,” she said, tightening fists. “We have some time to decide. We should let Tom rest now.”

Kamala nodded, biting her lower lip. “You’re right,” she stood up as well. She smiled at Thomas. “Try to get some sleep, okay?”

He nodded with a tired smile.

She looked at Alastair and said quietly, only for him to hear. “Don’t stay up late to look after him,” she squeezed his shoulder. “You don’t want to get yourself sick and worry him, do you?”

“Don’t gaslight me,” he murmured.

“This is not what gaslighting means,” Kamala smiled and let go of him. She and Grace left the room, leaving them alone.

Alastair looked at his lover. Thomas looked pale but his cheeks were flushed. His movements implied tiredness he had never seen in Thomas before.

“Will you stay with me?”

Alastair kissed his forehead and whispered. “What a stupid question.”

He gently lifted the blanket. Thomas moved aside to make room for him. Alastair could see what physical effort it cost him.

“No need to move,” Alastair whispered. “Lean on me.”

“Are you sure?” Thomas hesitated. “I may be too heavy-”

“I’m sure,” Alastair interrupted him.

Thomas was too tired to argue. He laid his head on Alastair’s shoulder, his arm on his chest. His whole body relaxed against Alastair.

“I love you,” he whispered in his shoulder.

Alastair’s heart skipped a beat.

Instead of answering he kissed the top of his head. He gently started to stroke his back, whispering words of comfort. Soft tales, told in the language of his own land that only Thomas could understand here. When he felt Thomas falling asleep Alastair buried his fingers in his lover’s hair and closed his eyes too.

It took him a long time to fall asleep.

•

Alastair woke up from a loud noise outside the room. It sounded like screams.

It was night, he noticed. The moon that could clearly be seen through the windows was shining softly. Thomas was still sleeping next to him, a little frown was forming between his eyes.

Alastair carefully moved Thomas away from himself and stood up. Barefoot, he crossed the room and opened the door. On his left, where Kamala and Grace’s rooms were, three knights were standing, two women and a man. One of the women was holding Grace on the floor.

“Hey!” Alastair yelled before he could think about it and ran towards them. “Let her go!”

They turned to him. The woman that didn’t hold his friend shooted, “Hold him!”

The other knight headed towards Alastair. He took a step back. The other man grabbed his arm, twisted it behind his back and pushed him against the wall. His grib wasn’t rough but it was strong. He tried to fight but it was useless. He was almost as tall as Thomas, a trained knight. Alastair felt like he was fighting against a stone.

Another female knight came out of Alastair’s own room. He blinked. “Nothing,” she said.

“Search his companions’ room,” said the woman who was apparently in charge. “And arrest them if somebody is inside.”

“What are you doing?” Alastair yelled. “We have done nothing wrong!”

The woman looked at him, her eyes hard. “You are under arrest for the possession of the potion "new life, new home".”

He saw how Grace’s eyes widened, mirroring his own surprise. He remembered how Grace talked about someone who sells something that “gives you new life” and can “give you a new home”. They thought the city was a dead end. The same one where they met Thomas and Alastair and from which they have brought the potion they were getting arrested for right now. Grace and Kamala had been on the right track after all.

“Here,” the knight came out of his room, holding Thomas’ bottle.

“Wasn’t anyone inside?”

“No,” she shook her head.

The woman turned back to Alastair, his eyes narrowed. “Where is he?”

“I…” Alastair’s mouth was dry. The wall was cold against his chest. He shivered.

A move behind the knight holding Grace caught his eye. Kamala. She was holding a knife. Faster than he imagined she could move, she hit the knight holding Grace with the handle of the knife. She collapsed on the floor. Grace stood up, breathing hard.

The woman took out her sword, long and shining in the dark, her lips pressed together. Kamala and Grace took a step back. A girl with a knife and one with no weapon at all couldn’t match a trained knight.

“Let them go,” came a quiet voice from behind them. Thomas.

He was holding a sword himself. The woman that searched his room was on the floor, her body leaned against the wall. This was probably her sword.

The woman looked between Thomas and the girls, her whole body tensed.

“They have done nothing wrong to this queendom,” he said, and repeated, “Let them go.”

The knight holding Alastair said, his voice unsure, “Amice…”

“Do not let him go, Reginald” the woman named Amice said through gritted teeth.

Before someone could say anything more they heard loud steps, dozens, getting closer. Benji appeared behind the corner, at least a dozen of knights following him. For a second Alastair had hope everything was going to be alright, that it was a misunderstanding… This hope vanished when he saw his hard expression. It was the first time he had ever seen Benji that serious.

Thomas had frozen. His pose was uncertain. He slowly turned to them.

The knights stopped in front of them. Benji stared at Thomas’ face. There was no trace of flirtation or playfulness. Just a bit of sadness.

Thomas lifted his sword but hesitated mid-action. He pulled back slightly, taking a shaky breath. His hand slowly opened, letting go of the weapon. The sword made a loud noise as it hit the ground.

Benji glanced quickly around, taking in the whole scene.

Finally, he straightened his back, looking straight ahead of him.

“Alastair Carstairs,” he announced. “You and your companions are under arrest for possession of a forbidden potion, lying about one’s identity, spying, resisting arrest, attacking and injuring knights and suspicion of participation in a conspiracy against Her Majesty, Queen Charlotte.”

Thomas looked terrified. Kamala and Grace too. Everything was a fog in front of Alastair’s eyes.

“Mabel,” Benji nodded at the girl next to him. Alastair recognized her as one of Benji’s knight-friends that had stopped by.

She, along with other knights, stepped forward, surrounding them. She grabbed Thomas and did similar thing to what had been done to Alastair. But this time Thomas didn’t resist and she didn’t slam him against the wall or the floor.

“Someone, send a note to General Cecily immediately,” Benji shouted. He turned and started to walk away. “Put the prisoners in the dungeon until further notice.”

•

To be continued...

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