Jacki was, Yuri supposed, his date for the ball, in as much as they'd shown up together out of solidarity, but neither of them had much interest in dancing. Yuri couldn't take his eyes off his betrothed dancing with his hands all over Lady Rebecca's bum. Jacki, for her part, missed her girlfriend, who'd broken her leg skiing and wouldn't be back to school until it healed.
“I'm not staring,” Yuri insisted, even though he was staring.
“Yeah, you are. I don't get you. You are always saying how much you can't stand Angel.”
“I can't stand him, or that stupid name. He's about as far from an angel as you can get.”
“Then stop staring.” Jacki nudged him with her shoulder. “Why do you even care?”
Because he's mine, Yuri thought. Because he belongs to me. And then the familiar disgust rose up. Angelo was just as much an unwilling participant in the engagement as Yuri. Like Yuri, Angelo had been given no choice. And Angelo wasn't gay, like at all, and he hadn't had a crush on his fiancé for years.
Yuri wished he could say the same.
Expecting fidelity, under the circumstances, was stupid. Yuri knew that. Literally no one expected the two of them to ever be a real couple. Even after the marriage, his mother had carefully explained, they would be able to go their separate ways. Fall in love with other people. The marriage was a formality. As long as they were discreet, no one would care what they did, or with whom.
It was something of a royal tradition, even. There was Great-uncle Horace and Yuri's cousin Adeline. Both had married one person but lived with another. Castles were large. It was easy to go about your life and never see your spouse except sometimes at meals.
Everyone understood.
Everyone, it seemed, except Yuri.
Angelo was everything Yuri was attracted to. He was tall, with dark hair and hazel eyes, beautiful brown skin, and even more beautiful muscles. Yuri, who had known for quite some time he was as gay as it was possible to get, thought it was utter torture to be engaged to the man of his dreams, only to have said man be less interested in fucking Yuri than he would be his sister.
It was absolutely not fair.
The song ended and Angelo took Rebecca's hand and led her to the buffet table.
“Would you like some lemonade? I'm going to get some.”
Jacki snagged the elbow of Yuri's suit jacket. “No. You don't want lemonade.”
“Yes,” he insisted, trying in vain to pull free from Jacki's vice-like grip. “I'm positive I want lemonade.”
“Lemonade,” Jacki emphasized in a fierce whisper, “is a really bad idea.”
“I'm thirsty,” Yuri hissed.
“That much is fucking obvious. Maybe not to the 'lemonade' itself,” Jacki made air quotes because sometimes she took after her parents and could be completely loathsome. “The 'lemonade,'“ again with the air quotes, “is not that bright. Although maybe it's a defense mechanism on his part. I haven't decided.”
“They're gone!”
“What?”
“They. Are. Gone. From the room. Disappeared. Gone.” With a strong tug, Yuri broke free from Jacki's grip and started to walk away from her toward the hall's entrance.
“Yuri,” she called after him. “Come back. You can find something else to drink.” Yuri gave Jacki a look, and whatever expression was on his face stopped his friend in her tracks. “Fine. Be an idiot. When you're ready to lick your wounds, I've got tequila in my room.”
Yuri rolled his eyes then set off to look for Angelo and Lady Rebecca. He found them in one of the deep window seats, partially hidden by red velvet curtains. He approached and saw the two of them snogging, oblivious to the world around them. Rebecca's hands were buried in Angelo's thick black hair. One of his hands was on her bum, gripping it tight, and the other was… Yuri frowned, then felt sick. Angelo's hand was under her skirt.
“You could at least have the decency to be discreet,” Yuri said in ringing tones, not particularly caring about being discreet himself. He was too angry.
Rebecca and Angelo pulled apart and stared in his direction. Angelo snatched his hand from under Lady Rebecca's skirt. “I swear to god, Yuri—”
“You should be careful,” Yuri told Rebecca with overdone concern. “Angelo doesn't like to tell people, but he has herpes.”
Rebecca drew back, probably unconsciously, but it was enough to cloud Angelo's features with rage. “You little—”
“He had to take medication for it and everything,” Yuri went on, pretending to not notice Angelo's boiling temper. “He was oozy. But it's better now. Probably. Still, I thought you should know.”
Rebecca pulled further back and Angelo shifted his attention to her. “Look, baby, he's—”
She abruptly stood. “I think I need some air,” Rebecca said. Angelo also stood. She put a hand on his chest, then pulled it away like she'd been burned. “Alone.” Then she stalked off without a glance behind her.
Angelo stared after her, seemingly frozen to the spot.
“You're better off without her,” Yuri said.
Angelo moved so fast Yuri had no time to react. The much larger boy picked Yuri up and slammed him against the wall hard. And Yuri, who knew he was an idiot, still relished the feel of Angelo's hands on him. Touching him. It had been ages since—
“Boys!” Fluted out Dame Margaret. She was a lady of indeterminate years—she could've been an old forty or a well-preserved sixty—and uncertain marital status who taught history. She was in formal dress that night, which for her meant an enormous silver caftan. “No play-fighting. Especially not in the corridor. I'd think by now you two would know better. Now. Go to your rooms. I think you've both had a little too much excitement
