prince ♛ cole mackenzie

22 | you're my world

The guests crowded in a semicircle around Aunt Josephine to hear her words. She stood on a lavish, slightly raised marble platform in the centre of a small group of her guests. In her hand, she held a glass of one of the strange coloured liquids found on every table. Or maybe it was just wine.

"Good evening," she began. "I'm thrilled to be among your lovely faces, but we feel the absence of one.

"What a face it was. I still recall it, peering over my shoulder, reading over my shoulder, no care for decorum. That's how we met. A bookshop in Paris. A woman introduces herself as Gertrude and tells me I do not want to purchase the book I'm perusing, as it's impossibly bleak and, in the end, the protagonist is murdered!"

The audience gave laughter at her reminiscence.

"Well, I spent my next decades hiding what I was reading, as she couldn't help but spoil the ending of every novel or night at the theatre.

"She also attempted to bleed me dry, spending all my money on the arts. And look what I'm left with. Nothing but a room full of the most wonderful friends," said Aunt Josephine, raising her glass. "To Gertrude. May she be reading over our shoulders for eternity."

They raised their glasses in response. A voice suddenly spoke out, one Silas did not recognise. "To the most wonderful couple. My romantic ideal."

couple? He thought. they were together?

"To Gertie and Jo."

"To Gertie and Jo," Anne added.

Much to his surprise, everyone repeated the words quietly and drank from their glasses. Not one person objected or expressed disapproval.

why are they not outraged?

"And now, to give a recitation in Gertrude's stead, I invite the always surprising, bright-eyed, big-brained, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert."

Silas could not listen to Anne's oration, but he knew it had been beautiful. Cole had whispered some words into his ear when she approached Aunt Josephine. In the ballroom at that moment, he felt at home. Part of a family. He rested his head upon Cole's shoulder for the duration of Anne's applause.

"I'll hunt down some safe drinks," Silas told him gently. Cole nodded his reply.

It took a few minutes to locate two glasses of water with citrus wedges. It took longer to find Cole. Eventually, he came across a corner of the room where Cole and Aunt Josephine sat. They seemed deep in their conversation, so he decided to wait awkwardly instead of interrupting.

Aunt Josephine turned her head unexpectedly to where Silas stood, lurking at a pillar close to the dance floor. She caught Silas's eye before he could pretend to look like he was watching the merry dancing taking place behind him.

Aunt Josephine smiled at him softly. She murmured some words to Cole, making him turn to Silas, and then departed.

"I— I got some fruit water," Silas informed him.

"Oh, thank you."

He handed him a glass and they drank in silence but for the music on the dance floor.

"Do you want to . . . dance?" Silas asked.

"With you?"

"I know I'm no Josie Pye, but I hope I can make up for it with my talent at ballroom dancing."

Cole laughed nonchalantly. "I'll dance with you, Silas Arroway."

They stepped forward, hand in hand, to join Anne and Diana in valses and ballads. The night seemed to whirl by in an instant, filled to the brim with euphoria.

* * * * *

Cole, Anne, Diana and Silas were back into their two separate rooms by late that night or early that morning, they did not know. They did not need to know, for it all felt the same; blissful.

Silas and Cole lay on Cole's bed on top of the sheets, at different ends of the delicately carved wood. The party had drained their energy.

"I would do it all again in a heartbeat," Cole mumbled.

"Yeah."

"You're an okay dancer."

"Thank you. You didn't look so terrible with that red scarf," joked Silas.

Cole laughed quietly.

"Is your wrist okay?" Silas sat up now.

"I couldn't count how many times you've asked me. It's fine, it's just useless now."

"It's not useless, Cole."

"I feel useless. Without being able to draw, what can I do? Waste away on a farm for the rest of my life?"

"We'll leave here someday. Find somewhere nice in the mountaintops or by the sea . . ." Silas realised his mind was returning to the idea of running away. He pushed the thoughts back and lay down again.

"Why are you so obsessed with that idea?" said Cole. "Is something wrong?"

His lips wanted to deny any unhappiness he felt for Cole's own happiness. But his heart spoke instead.

"Daisy's gone."

Silence.

"Oh, Silas . . . that day you stayed off, when I fell . . . you should have told me sooner."

"There was no reason to upset you over something that didn't need to cause you sorrow."

"But it does. Silas, you're my world. This matters to me. You matter to me and how you feel matters to me."

does that mean . . . ?

Silas's breathing deepened in preparation for what he would say. Would he say it at all? Cole had to know how he felt. How he would risk everything to get back at Billy for hurting Cole. How he felt when he ran through the butterfly field with Cole. How he felt when he danced with Cole. Cole, Cole, Cole, Cole. His thoughts these days consisted almost entirely of him.

"You know . . . Anne and Gilbert?" he hesitantly started.

"Yes?"

"I'd like that to be us. Uhm— together. I like the way your eyes . . . are blue."

The lack of a response frightened Silas.

he thinks i'm weird. he doesn't want to be my friend. i've messed this up.

He could hear the smile in Cole's voice. "I'd like that, too. Us. Together."