I looked over the pile of books and papers I was supposed to be studying and stole a glance at Renaud.  He was wearing his favorite honey-colored velvet coat, the one that matched his eyes.  His cravat was loosely tied and carelessly pinned as always.  The corner of my mouth turned up in a grin as I thought about how often others took Renaud for jaunty or flippant, when he could actually be quite studious.

His gorgeous, wavy brown hair cascaded over his fine features as he squinted while scribbling down some notes.  I couldn’t help but smirk wider.  He needed glasses, but staunchly refused to get them.  That was Renaud for you.  I should know—he had been my best friend since I was five.

Here’s the part where I should say that I loved him like another brother, but my feelings became far more than that as I finally came of age.  Renaud was handsome and brilliant (when he wanted to be) and he had the same leanings as I did toward our own sex.  Too bad he’d never seemed to see me in that light.  But if I had to put aside my own yearnings to keep our friendship intact, I would do it gladly.  Renaud was, above all things, a loyal friend.  I couldn’t imagine life without him by my side.  I just hoped our bond would weather the storms of adolescence and (I swallowed hard around a sudden lump in my throat) future lovers or wives.

“Joshua, you’re doing it again,” came Renaud’s voice.

“Hm? Pardon?” I pulled my eyes away from the window and tried to bring my thoughts back to where they should be.  I saw him chuckle.

“I don’t know how you ever get any work done when you daydream so much.”

My bottom lip jutted out in what I knew was probably a juvenile pout, but I couldn’t help it.  “How many times must I tell you—and all my tutors—that I don’t daydream!  I’m thinking.”

Renaud smirked.  “Your thinking looks an awful lot like ignoring your studies.”

With a ‘hmph’ I retorted, “And when have I ever gotten behind in my studies?  Honestly!  When is everyone going to let me be and do things my own way?”

“With your brother always looking over your shoulder, you may have to wait a long while yet.  Still, you are finally of age.  That should give you some leverage.”

“It obviously doesn’t yet with you,” I grumbled.

He gave me that lopsided grin of his again that left me torn between an urge to smack him or kiss him.  I did neither.

“I’m older than you by two years,” Renaud reminded me.

“Everyone’s older than me.  If that’s the way things are I’ll be seventy and still enduring everyone else’s chiding.”

Renaud chortled at my griping and I returned to my reading.  It was a typical day—or would be except for the date.  I shut those thoughts from my head and concentrated on the tome in front of me.

Twenty minutes later, one of the maids brought us our afternoon refreshments and I leaned back in my chair with a sigh.  Renaud ate quietly for a change and I thought maybe I would be able to avoid talk of the impending evening.  No such luck.

“Tonight is midsummer, the Queen’s Night,” he said, arching an eyebrow and smiling.

“Yes, I know,” I replied drily.  Sipping my tea, I tried to appear unconcerned.

“Oh?  Not interested?  It’s your first Queen’s Night since you’ve come of age.  Put down that insufferable mint tea of yours—how you can drink it without milk or sugar is beyond me!—and tell me who you’re going to kiss.”

“I like this tea,” I said, ignoring his demands.  “And you’d like it if you tried it.”

“I could say the same about the midsummer traditions,” he told me with a handsome grin.

I frowned.  “I’m sure you’ll get around enough for the both of us,” I told him in a more chill tone than I intended.  “As for myself, I don’t fancy slipping into dim alleys with strangers for a few sloppy kisses in the dark.”

Renaud’s amber eyes fixed on me knowingly.  I hoped I wasn’t squirming.  He’d always been able to read me with far too much ease, but this was one secret I was going to keep.  I couldn’t very well tell him the only person’s kiss I wanted to steal was his own.

“Don’t give me that.  There’s got to be someone on your mind.  I can tell—your cheeks are pink.”

Looking anywhere but his face, I threw back, “You never told me who you kissed the past two years.  Why should I have to tell you?”

“So there is someone!” he said triumphantly.

I groaned inwardly and poured more tea, accidentally clinking the expensive china.  “Maybe there is and maybe there isn’t.  What about you?  Tell me and I’ll think about giving you a name.” Of course, I wouldn’t, but he didn’t need to know that.

Renaud shrugged.  “I haven’t decided yet.  Although…”

“Yes?” I pressed.  He enjoyed baiting me.  We both knew it.

“Well, Christophe—”

“Gods, Renaud!  My brother isn’t even—”

He cut me off in turn.  “No, no.  You didn’t even let me finish.  Jumpy today, aren’t we?”

I crossed my arms and waited.

He deliberately paused to nibble at one of his finger sandwiches before continuing.  “As I was saying, Christophe’s friend Philippe is rather good-looking, and he leans the same way we do.”

Renaud and I had never actually confessed the fact we both preferred men, it was just something we realized about one another as we grew towards adolescence.  As with so many things, we simply understood one another without the need for discussion.  I’d always felt a secret joy at the fact our bond was that strong, but more recently it made me worry.  One of these days Renaud was certain to realize how I felt about him, and I dreaded it.  I didn’t think it would ruin our friendship—our bond was stronger than that—but it would make things awkward.  And I would be forced to hear my best friend tell me he couldn’t return my feelings.  I would do almost anything to avoid that.

“Yes, I’ve noticed that about Philippe,” I said, happy to steer the conversation into safer waters.

“Oh, really?”

I nodded, my pale hair slipping from the ponytail at the nape of my neck to fall about my face.  I pulled it back again and knotted the ribbon tighter.  “I wasn’t sure at first, but you should’ve seen him when he accidentally caught me in the bath.”

“What?!”

Renaud’s eyes went so wide I thought they were going to pop from his head.  I chuckled.  It was good to have the upper hand every so often.

When he saw me laugh, his eyes narrowed.  “You’re lying…”

“I could, but in this case I don’t have to.  It happened last week.  He and Chris had gone riding and were caught in the rain.  Philippe caught quite a chill, so Chris had the bath prepared for him—but apparently forgot to tell him it was the downstairs bath.  So he walked in on me—just as I was drying off, as fate would have it.  He stammered an apology, but only after he’d taken in an eyeful.”

Renaud regarded me with a sour expression.  “Are you certain it was an accident?”

With a shrug I replied, “He seemed genuinely surprised, but who knows.”

“Philippe is a libertine from what I hear. I wouldn’t put it past him to have done it deliberately.”

I cocked an eyebrow and tried to sound merely teasing as I asked, “Jealous?”

Renaud chuckled good-naturedly.  “As if I haven’t seen you naked enough times already?”

I recalled all the times we’d bathed together as children, or sneaked off to the river in the woods on hot summer days.  Those had been good times—easier times.  I pulled myself from the nostalgic thoughts and formed a retort.

“We were just children then.” I grinned and puffed up my chest with mock pride.  “I’m a man now, remember?”

Shaking his head, Renaud chuckled.  “A man in name only,” he teased.  “What kind of man doesn’t want to take advantage of Queen’s Night?”

“Give it a rest already!” I grumbled, deflating.

His tone was light, but there was something in his eyes I couldn’t name.  “I bet you wouldn’t mind if Philippe visited you tonight in the dark, hmm?” he pressed.

In truth, I probably wouldn’t.  He was handsome after all and probably had a lot of experience.  I’d wager he was a damn good kisser, but…

“Renaud, not everyone thinks like you.”

“How’s that?”

“Like a pervert.”

He laughed and it rippled through me.  I loved that laugh.

“Besides, if I was going to kiss someone, I wouldn’t do it on Queen’s Night.   What fun it is when you can’t even see each other?”

Renaud looked amazed at my naiveté.  “But that’s the entire point!  Not knowing who it is makes it more exciting.”

I shrugged.  “I think the whole thing is ridiculous.”

The tradition had evolved from the time of Queen Josephine.  Apparently, the King had fallen out of favor—both with his wife and his people.  When Josephine took a lover her people actually helped her deceive the King.  On the nights she met him, the city workers would have uncharacteristic ‘trouble’ igniting the street lamps around the royal quarter—all the better for Josephine to get around unnoticed.  The Queen was so beloved (and her affair so well known) that after her death a tradition began to honor her on midsummer’s eve by dousing all the street lamps in the city.  Most homes refrained from lighting their lamps inside as well, which plunged the city into nearly pitch-black darkness.  Eventually the night became a time for illicit lovers to meet, or for youths to sneak around unseen and declare their secret love with a kiss.

I’d always felt it was terribly romantic and hoped to enjoy a tryst when I was finally old enough.  Unfortunately, I was currently enamored with a man who thought of me as a brother.  Inwardly, I sighed.  As if I needed another brother—one was quite enough.

Irritated with the whole business, I began to rant.  “I doubt the story behind the Queen’s Night is even true.  And I don’t see why people have to pledge their love in the dark.   What good is declaring it if the other person doesn’t even realize who you are?” I was really laying it on thick now.  “More than likely you’d barely be able to find each other in the dark and just end up bumping into things.”

“Like lips,” Renaud chuckled.

“I have no interest in it,” I said, opening up my reading once more.

“You say that because you’ve never taken part.  You’ll feel differently after tonight.”

I doubted it.  Most likely no secret admirer would be sending me word to meet him anywhere—and heaven knew I wouldn’t be seeking anyone out.

“My feelings won’t change because I won’t be taking part.  I plan to stay at home all evening.”

Renaud gave a heavy sigh.  “You’re hopeless.”

I was about to form a rebuttal when the door to the study swung open.

“I should’ve known I would find you with your nose buried in a book.”

Looking over my shoulder, I glared.  “Nice to see you too, Christophe.” The sarcasm in my voice was heavy.

“Well, well, quite the sharp tongue on my little brother today, wouldn’t you say?”

Behind him, Philippe shut the door and grinned.  “I don’t know—I haven’t sampled his tongue yet.”

“Philippe!” Chris chided with a groan.  “He’s my brother!”

Tossing his long black ponytail over his shoulder, Philippe chuckled.  “Yes, and he’s cuter than you are.  I can’t help it.”

“You’re incorrigible.” Taking a seat, he turned to the rest of us and asked, “So, are you ready for Queen’s Night?”

Renaud snorted.  “Joshua says he’s going to ignore the whole affair.”

“What?” Chris exclaimed, eying me with a dismay I thought ridiculously extreme.  “But it’s your first!”

I shrugged noncommittally and tried to focus on my reading, though I could feel the tips of my ears growing hot.

“I don’t believe this!” Chris grumbled.  “For years and years you’ve pestered me about Queen’s Night, and now you can finally participate and you’re going to ignore it?”

I rolled my eyes at him.  Honestly, he could be so dramatic.

“Perhaps Joshua is simply waiting for the right person to send him an invite,” Philippe said with a smile as he leaned over my chair.  “Although with that pretty face, I can’t imagine that you wouldn’t have several secret admirers already.”

Shifting in my chair, I glanced up at him and saw him grinning at me flirtatiously.  My heart fluttered, though not in the same manner it would have if Renuad had spoken those words.  It was nice to hear just the same though.

Chris scowled at his friend.  “Well you had better not think of arranging a tryst with him!”

“Why not?” Philippe pouted.

“Need I repeat that you are acting the lecher with my own brother?”

Philippe chuckled and shook his head, while Chris chose to ignore him.  “Josh, it’s your first Night,” my brother pressed, “most people have to do the inviting when they have just come of age.  And especially as a man you should show the initiative.”

I had heard this speech before.  “And if the other partner is also a man?  Then what?”

Throwing up his hands, Chris glowered at me.  “I’ve told you before, you’re too young to know if you favor men!”

I saw Renaud roll his eyes and we shared a look of mutual frustration.  “I’m of age now!” I insisted.  “Besides, I have always known!” Defiantly, I turned to Philippe.  “How old were you when you knew?”

He raised an eyebrow and gave my brother a helpless shrug.  “He has a point.”

“But Philippe, you have always been more worldly than Josh.  Do you know my brother has never even been kissed?  And he thinks he knows what he prefers already!”

“Christophe!” I snapped, feeling my cheeks redden.  Lord, how I hated him sometimes!  What a big mouth!

“What?” he retorted.  “It’s the truth isn’t it?  And moreover, you are too much of a romantic for your own good.  Philippe will set aside his dalliances when the time comes for him to take a wife.  He knows enough to be practical.”

“I do?”

That gave Chris pause.  “Yes…Don’t you?”

Philippe parted his hands.  “Perhaps.  But you forget, I favor both men and women.  It may be different for Joshua.  And in all honesty, Chris, you should probably stay out of it.”

Renaud and I glanced at one another, surprise reflected on both our faces.  It was rare for any of my brother’s friends to contradict him.  My esteem for Philippe grew in that moment.

Chris looked heavenward with a heavy sigh.  “Fine!  I give up.” Then turning to me he said, “Do what you want.  Go ahead and ignore Queen’s Night, but it seems like a waste.”

When I made no reply, Chris stood in a huff and headed for the door.  “Come on, Philippe.”

The raven-haired young man gave me a parting wink and followed my brother out the door.

“Well, that was a surprise,” I noted as the door shut.  “Looks as if Philippe actually has a backbone, unlike Christophe’s other friends.”

Renaud shrugged.  “It’s about time.” I saw him pause, his demeanor sobering. “I hope you’re not really enamored of him, though, Josh.  He’s all flattery.  Don’t get pulled in by that sweet tongue of his.”

It was unlike Renaud to suddenly turn serious.  I wondered at it—especially the concern swimming in the back of his amber eyes.  However, I didn’t wish to read too much into things and decided to make light of it.

“What are you about?  Afraid I’m going to interfere with your designs on him this evening?” I teased, raising an eyebrow inquiringly.

“You know I wasn’t serious about that.  Philippe is hardly my type,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“And what is your type?”

He opened his mouth to reply, then stopped.  It was quite unlike him to hesitate, but in the next moment he seemed to recover.  Flashing me a grin, he said, “I’m still conducting research on the matter.  I think it will take more time—and experimentation—before I reach a conclusion.”

I rolled my eyes in reply and returned to my studies, spending the next hour buried in my books.  Renaud became oddly quiet, though I could feel him glancing at me every so often when he thought I wasn’t paying attention.

When the clock struck the third hour, I gathered my things as it was time for us both to meet our individual tutors.

Renaud caught my arm just before I left.

“Josh,” he began, and he was so close I could feel his breath on my cheek.  I had to hold back a shudder.  “Are you really not going out for Queen’s Night?”

My mouth was dry.  His closeness was making my heart race, and I knew I sounded pathetic when I replied, “Yes, I’m really not going out.”

His brow creased then, and he looked troubled.  “You used to be such a romantic.  Have you really gotten so cynical?  Or are you that afraid of being rejected?”

“Renaud, that’s not fair.  You don’t even know who it is.”

“Because you won’t tell me!  You used to tell me everything!”

“Well, things change,” I replied helplessly, hating myself even as I said the words.

“I guess they do,” Renaud retorted bitterly.  I felt like someone was trying to rip my heart out through my ribcage.  “I just want to see you happy, even if I can’t be the one to—” He stopped, glanced at me and then abruptly moved past me out the door.  “Forget it,” he muttered as he stomped down the hall.

I was left dejected and miserable, and late for my lesson.  It was barely mid-afternoon and I’d already made a mess of things—and I had a sinking feeling it was only going to get worse.