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“And in this I will give you my daughter Nazca’s hand in marriage,” Capa Barvasi said and Locke felt his heart all but stop. “You must understand how high of an honor this is, to have my only daughter’s hand.”
“Of course, sir. I am your loyal servant until the end of days,” Locke said with a smile, though it hardly reached his eyes. When Locke got out of here he was going to have some very choice words to say to Nazca. Her father hadn’t known about the arrangement between Locke and Jean but Locke was almost certain Nazca had caught on at some point and for her to allow this to go on was a cruel trick.
Barvasi smiled. “Of course Locke, I knew you would see the wisdom of my proposal. Please, come back tomorrow and you and Nazca might discuss the proper arrangements. You are dismissed for the evening.”
Out in the hallway the Sanzas and Bug were playing cards with some of the guards while Jean stared at the door waiting for Locke to come back. He smiled when Locke came through the door though it quickly fell when he saw Locke’s expression. He looked shaken, and he wasn’t doing a very good job of masking it.
Which either meant that it was to their advantage that Locke seemed put off, or he was so shaken he didn’t think to mask it.
With Locke it was always the first option. Everything was calculated, everything thought through, he was the best of them at false faces so then why did Jean feel like something was wrong?
“Well, I’d hate to interrupt the Sanzas winnings but we should be off,” Locke said, pinning a smile to his face.
The Sanzas smiled and threw down their cards into the pile. “We weren’t even cheating that time,” Calo said. The two of them got up in unison.
Bug threw down his cards, and in the process let a few slip from where he’d shoved them up his sleeve.
Galdo clicked his tongue looking at Bug’s sloppy work.
Locke led the Gentleman Bastards out of Barvasi’s keep. He was weirdly quiet on the boat ride back, staring into the deep waters. Jean, sitting beside Locke put a hand on the small of his back. Locke looked up, eyes meeting Jean’s and did he look guilty? What had happened in that meeting?
Jean tilted his head in question but Locke just shook his head, looking away.
They split up, Jean and Lock heading back to the inn, the Sanzas to the brothels and Bug back to the Elderglass cellar.
Once behind closed doors Locke sat heavily on their bed. The room had two beds, but they had pushed them together making one larger bed so they could sleep together. Jean sat next to him, taking Locke’s hand and pressing a kiss to his knuckles.
“Barvasi wants me to marry Nazca,” Locke said.
“What?”
“Barvasi wants me to—”
“No I heard you the first time. You said no right?”
Locke opened his mouth, closed it, grit his teeth and tried again. “How could I say no? He offered me his only daughter’s hand in marriage. It would be too big an insult. He wants Nazca to be in charge but he doesn’t want to actually put her in charge because it would insult his sons having their younger sister out rank them. But if I were her husband then her brothers would still be in charge but they would listen to me, as Nazca’s husband and I could parrot her ideas up to them.”
“Do you seriously think this is a good idea?” Jean asked, finding it hard to keep the bite out of his voice.
Locke rubbed his thumb up and down Jean’s knuckles. “Brilliant move on their part, fucking shit stained for us though, and they know it, or well, Nazca does. She apologized to me before I went in, saying we could work something out. But. . . gods Jean I don’t want to.” Locke leaned his head on Jean’s shoulder and the larger man wrapped an arm around Locke.
“We could leave. We have more than enough money to live out the rest of our lives and then some far away from this place,” Jean said.
“And leave Bug and the twins with this mess? I don’t think so.”
“They could come too.”
“They would come if I asked them to.”
“Which is why you won’t do it.”
“Would you?”
“No.”
Locke buried his face in Jean’s shoulder and Jean pulled Locke into a proper hug, leaning his head on top of Locke’s.
“At least you’ll get to call a beautiful woman your wife,” Jean said trying to lighten the mood. “I’ll just be stuck being your whore.”
Locke let out a wet laugh. “Aren’t whores supposed to be beautiful?”
Jean gasped as if offended. “Locke Lamora, heart of my heart, love of my life, do you not think me beautiful?”
“Well lets see,” Locke pulled his head up from where it was nestled under Jean’s chin and kissed the bridge of his nose. “Your nose is crooked as one of the Thiefmaker’s fingers,” Over the years Jean’s nose had been broken more times than he could count. Most of them an injury picked up from trying to get Locke out trouble. “You’re as blind as a bat,” Locke pressed a kiss to each of Jean’s eyelids. “And as harry as a dog,” Locke pressed a kiss to Jean’s cheek where stubble was starting to come in. It had been a few days since they played the Salvara game so Jean hadn’t shaved. “So, I would have to say, that you are the most beautiful person I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
Locke leaned down and caught Jean’s lips in a kiss, deep and full of passion and regret and longing.
The next morning they woke tangled in each other’s arms, sunlight lazily spilling in through the crack in the curtains.
Jean was the first to wake, as per usual, but stayed in bed a while longer than normal tracing his eyes across Locke’s sleeping frame.
Locke was so often not himself, what with all the masks and games, ploys to make money. But Jean always reveled in the fact that he got to see the real Locke. Even Bug and the Sanzas didn’t get to see the real Locke all that often. Locke the leader of the Gentleman Bastards was just another hat Locke wore, but here, in this room just the two of them, that was the real Locke.
Jean traced a finger up a thin scar slashing across Locke’s arm. It was an old scar, from when Jean was trying to teach Locke how to fight with swords. Locke had insisted on practicing with real swords instead of the practice swords Chains had given them. Jean had felt terrible for weeks after landing that blow, Locke had never mentioned it.
Locke rolled over, facing Jean. “You admiring your handiwork?”
“I’m definitely admiring something.”
Locke hummed and pressed a kiss to Jean’s lips. “I’m supposed to meet with Nazca today.”
“Right. To talk about the. . .”
“Yes the. Can you get everyone to help prepare for the next leg of the Don Salvara game?” Locke got up and started getting dressed. Jean traced the movements of Locke’s porcelain skin as he did so.
“What is there left to do?”
Locke paused, picking out a suitable waistcoat for this endeavor. It should be nice, but not so nice that they couldn’t afford it on the budget Barvasi thought they had. “That suit jacket, the one with the blue lining. It’s too big in the shoulders, if you could take it in and. . .” Locke trailed off as he thought about the rest of the list of things to do for the game. Everything was done. Besides that one jacket all the costumes were perfect. All the props were in perfect condition. There was nothing else to do.
“I’ll get the twins to do some instructional teaching to Bug,” Jean said. “I’ll tell them the Salvara’s invited you to afternoon tea, which was to be a strictly recreational affair, not a business one so they won’t expect you to bring anything back. Well Bug will want you to bring back pastries but that’s besides the point.”
Locke nodded, shrugging on a tailored grey jacket. “Right, yes, Bug’s education. The blue jacket. . . I feel like I’m missing something.” Locke fumbled with the buttons on his jacket, hands shaking. Jean crossed the room and grabbed Locke’s hands.
“What do you think Nazca is going to propose and do you plan to barter with her?” Jean asked, doing up the buttons himself while Locke fidgeted, nervous as Jean had ever seen him.
“I think she’s going to say that she knows about you and me and that she’d be ok with it as long as we aren’t public about it,” Locke said.
“Which we already aren’t,” Jean said. “So then what’s your angle?”
Locke sighed and leaned his head on Jean’s shoulder. “I don’t have one yet.”
“Then maybe for this one thing you don’t need one. Nazca’s our friend. If you just talk to her honestly, she’ll understand.”
“Do you think she’ll call this whole thing off?”
“Well I sort of got the impression it might have been her idea in the first place.”
Locke sighed. “It could very well be.
“You should go,” Jean said.
“I guess I’m stalling now huh?”
Jean pressed a kiss to Locke’s lips and when Locke tried to slip his tongue in Jean’s mouth to extend the duration of the kiss Jean pulled away.
“Go,” Jean said. “And come find me when you come back.”
***
“So I know about you and Jean,” Nazca said. She and Locke were sitting completely alone in a room, no one else in sight, not even guards, though they had relived Locke of his weapons before he went to meet with Nazca.
“Right,” Locke said. “So then you realize that this marriage is going to be a sham in every sense of the word correct?”
“I acknowledge that yes, but politically, it needs to happen.”
Locke bit his tongue. He kept wanting to blame Nazca, to tell her how cruel she was being, but she already knew. Nazca was calculated, she was smart, she wouldn’t do something like this without weighing the pros and cons.
“Are you in agreement?” Nazca asked.
No. Bitch. Locke wanted to say. “Yes,” he choked out instead.
“Good. Then we need to work out the logistics. Theres the wedding obviously, scheduled for a week from today, and then after that we’ll have to be seen together very often. I think it would be within both of our best interest to make it seem like this is a marriage of love and not a political marriage so that the other Capas don’t get jealous and try to fight you for power. Within the first week I would think that we should be seen together nearly all hours of the day, then in the weeks following have days where we don’t see each other at all. We both have other responsibilities to deal with, it only makes sense. Now for the wedding—”
Nazca kept talking but Locke struggled to listen. She had this all planned out. Probably had it all planned out for weeks before she actually went through with it. But that thought only made him more annoyed. She knew that Locke was involved with someone else and yet she still thought to go through with this without even so much as a hint that something like this might be happening.
Locke left that meeting a little dazed. He had a date and time for the fitting of a new suit to be made for him, and he was told that the news of their marriage would become public soon. He was also given a white iron ring to wear at all times.
He walked back to the temple deep in thought, walking the white iron ring across his knuckles. It was lunacy to have something so expensive out in the open for all to see, but Locke halfway hoped some Shades Hill orphan would come along and steal it.
Locke walked into the Elderglass cellar and smelt food cooking. He walked into the kitchen to find Jean baking tarts. Locke wrapped his arms around Jean as he mixed a filling for the tarts. Locke flicked the white iron ring from his hands, it pinged off the backsplash and landed miraculously in one of the tart shells. He groaned and lay his head on Jean’s shoulder.
“Leave it there, let someone chip a tooth on it,” Locke said when Jean moved to take the ring out of the tart.
“Are you going to tell them?”
“Have to. Wedding’s next week.”
Jean’s hands stilled but he quickly resumed mixing. “At the end of the day, it’s just a big fancy party with lots of booze. You’ll enjoy that bit.”
“Yes I think I will. I’ll drink enough to forget all the other bits. Are vows still binding if you don’t remember saying them?”
“Locke Lamora, always looking for a loophole.”
“Yes well, I suppose you don’t need a loophole if both sides agree that the marriage is a sham.”
Jean sighed. “No. I suppose you don’t.”
***
That night when Bug and the Sanzas came back from their little adventure with a bag of goods Bug had stolen to add to the bullshit box they all sat down for a dinner. Among their usual fine dinner sat the plate of tarts Jean had made.
Bug was wolfing down tarts as the Sanzas took turns telling a story about Bug almost getting caught stealing from a yellowjacket.
“Ow!” Bug winced as he bit into a tart. He examined the tart and pulled a white iron ring out of the jelly filling.
Now’s a good a time as any, Locke thought. “Ah, so that’s where it ended up.”
Bug ran his tongue across his teeth to make sure they were all intact. He rubbed the purple jelly off the ring. “Since when do you put white iron rings in tarts?”
The Sanzas both looked to Jean, who looked down.
“Ah, since I was to be married,” Locke said.
Their eyes snapped to Locke.
“Fucking finally,” Galdo said, breaking the silence.
“We’re invited right? I always thought Bug would be the flower girl,” Calo said.
“Hey! No way am I gonna be some stupid flower girl!”
“Which one of you wears the dress?” Galdo asked.
“Locke obviously,” Calo said.
“Not that Jean couldn’t but—"
“Enough!” Locke said, rising from his chair as the room dissolved into speculation. Of course, they would think him and Jean. Marriage between two men was illegal by the standards of the twelve, but the Crooked Warden never cared for rules, and besides all that, they could just hold a party and exchange rings themselves. It wouldn’t be legal in any sense, but they were thieves, since when did they care for what was legal, and suddenly Locke was unsure why he and Jean had never tried to exchange rings earlier in their lives. “A week from now I am to be marrying Nazca as part of a political plot set up by her and her father.”
All eyes turned to Jean who managed to keep a straight face.
“I can’t say I’m happy about it, but I was given her hand by Capa Barvasi himself, so it wasn’t exactly something I could refuse,” Locke continued.
Silence fell on the table.
“You are all invited to the wedding of course, and we will all have new suits tailored for us curtsey of the Capa himself.”
“But—” Bug started but Locke cut him off.
“There is no negotiation, there are no buts. This is just how it is. I will not take further discussion on this matter.”
***
The next day he did in truth meet with Don and Dona Salvara over dinner, after another morning discussing wedding logistics with Nazca. He found himself twisting the expensive gold band he wore with his Lukas Fertherwhite costume around his finger. Now that he thought about it whenever he pretended to be someone of status he typically wore a wedding band. Odd how he tended to gravitate to such flourishes while in costume.
“Is there something on your mind Lukas?” Dona Sofia asked, seeming to notice Locke’s absentmindedness.
“Just thinking of home. I almost have that second galleon secured as I said, but as I mentioned to gain the loyalty of the captain and crew I’ll need another five thousand crowns.
“Of course, we expected as much,” Don Salvara said, sliding a note of credit over to Locke.
“Thank you, Don and Dona. Just another week or so and we should be sailing.”
***
The day of the wedding came on far too fast for anyone’s liking, and suddenly the rest of the Gentleman Bastards were dressed in fine black silk coats while Locke was dressed in the customary pure white.
“I’d like to get some blood on this jacket,” Locke said pulling at his cuff. “Never thought white suited me.”
It was just Locke and Jean alone in the room, Bug and the Sanzas had left them just moments ago.
“White suits you just fine,” Jean said, fingers brushing over the lapels of Locke’s coat. “You’re going to go up there and you’re going to play at false faces. You will play the dutiful husband. You will look into Nazca’s eyes and you will love her. You will play her as sure as you played the Salvaras. And then you’ll get drunk and congratulated by a lot of people and you will smile and brag about how amazing Nazca is, and they will hardly be lies because we both know Nazca is brilliant. And then you will go into her bedchambers and have the worst night’s sleep in your life because your head will be ringing with alcohol.” As Jean talked his eyes filled with tears.
“You look so beautiful,” Jean said with a gasp, unable to hold back his tears. “Gods I wish you were mine.”
Locke cupped Jean’s face in his hands, wiping the tears from his eyes. “I’ll stand up there and I’ll smile but I’ll be miserable. I’ll try to imagine that it’s you in that puffy white dress but it won’t work because Nazca’s wearing those god awful boots and you would never have such poor fashion sense. I’ll come find you after and we’ll drink and we’ll dance and I’ll pretend this night is for us. And tonight, I’ll pass out on the dance floor, too sick with drink and you’ll carry me to bed and tell me I’m being an idiot and you won’t want to kiss me because my mouth will taste like sick. And in the morning, after the worst sleep in my life, because it will be the first time in years that I haven’t fallen asleep by your side, I’ll come home to the temple and complain of my hangover and you can give me an emetic and we can pretend that the world didn’t just cleave in two.”
There was a knock on the door. “Master Lamora, the ceremony is starting.”
Locke took a shuttering breath to ground himself. He put on his mask. He was someone else, someone who loved Nazca, he was intelligent and sly and he would not cry. “Kiss for good luck?” Locke asked trying on his best teasing smile.
Jean let out a shuttering laugh and gave Locke a quick peck on the lips.
Locke opened the door and was led to the altar. He looked out at the enormous crowd. Faces he recognized as the other Capas and friends of Barvasi. Bug and the Sanzas were seated in the crowd and Locke tried to focus on them instead of the overwhelming presence of everyone else coming to witness this sham. There was an empty seat between Bug and another man Locke vaguely recognized. He stared at that seat feeling utterly hollow.
A few moments later music started and the doors at the back to the room opened and Nazca came out wearing a gorgeous white dress and those boots she so adored. Her father stood next to her, walking her down the isle.
Locke smiled. Play the false face. She’s going to be your wife. You’re ecstatic at the thought. But he couldn’t help but glance at that empty seat that Jean was supposed to be filling. He wasn’t coming. Locke had guessed enough. Jean hadn’t said it outright, but if their roles had been reversed Locke couldn’t imagine himself actually watching the ceremony where his partner was wed to another person.
Nazca smiled when her eyes met Lockes.
Hold it together Locke.
Nazca climbed the alter and stood in front of Locke. She did look beautiful, though Locke had to stop himself from searching the audience for a more beautiful face with a much more crooked nose.
“We are gathered here today to celebrate the union between one Nazca Barvasi and one Locke Lamora,” the priest said. “Nazca Barvasi, do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to love and to cherish him in sickness and in health?”
“I do,” Nazca said. Those two little words held the weight of Locke’s entire universe.
“And do you, Locke Lamora, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to love and cherish her in sickness and in health?”
“I. . .”
***
To love and cherish. . .
Locke thought about the first time he’d kissed Jean. It had been a stupid little ploy, orchestrated entirely by Locke himself without Jean’s knowledge. He just wanted to know what it would feel like. No to kiss someone, he’d done that plenty before, but to kiss Jean specifically.
He was fifteen and had been showing Jean some about disguises, as well as pick pocketing. He’d put himself in a long auburn wig, which he tucked up under a pageboys cap, and he’d dressed Jean as the son of a wealthy merchant.
He’d instructed Jean to try to slip a few coins out of a woman’s purse, then a ring off a different woman’s finger, then a watch off a man’s wrist. Jean had been doing rather good. He had gotten a lot of lessons and practice with Locke in before going for real, but the watch was of foreign make and had a different clasp than Jean was used to and his fingers brushed the man’s skin as the watch came off.
The man turned down to look at Jean and he bolted. “Thief!” the man shouted, pointing at Jean.
Yellowjackets started closing in as Jean ran, meeting up with Locke who yanked him into an alleyway and shoved Jean against the wall.
“I got caught!” Jean hissed.
“So now we disappear,” Locke said.
“How, this ally is a dead end!”
“He went this way!” Came a voice nearby the alleyway.
“Oh gods Locke were so fucked,” Jean said.
Locke tossed off his hat and let the wig fall in loose waves around his shoulders, he shoved Jean up against the wall.
“What are you doing?”
“Kiss me,” Locke said as footsteps approached their hiding place.
“What?”
“Now.”
The footsteps were getting closer, and Jean didn’t need a third prompting. He kissed Locke. Jean initiated but Locke led Jean’s inexperienced hands around to rest one tangled in the hair of the wig, the other around Locke’s hips as Lock pushed Jean harder against the wall of the ally, angling their faces so that the back of his head hid Jean’s face and he raked his fingers through Jean’s hair, messing up the perfectly crafted style from earlier.
The yellowjackets rounded the corner and quickly retreated. “Not over here!” One of them yelled, though Locke hardly heard it, too busy chasing the sensation of Jean’s lips on his.
He’d been right, kissing Jean was different from kissing the other girls, and boys too he’d tried at the Sanza’s insistence. It was different because it was Jean.
Once the yellowjackets were surely gone both boys pulled away from each other gasping for breath.
“I. . . good plan,” Jean said. “You saved my ass.”
Locke gasped for air. He felt like he’d just ran a marathon. “Yeah. But we should still get out of here.” Locke picked up his hat and got to shoving the long wig back up into it, and if Jean’s eyes happened to linger on him a little longer than they should have well. . .
They did the same ruse three more times before they were both ready to admit that whatever they were to each other it went further than friendship and that maybe they should just kiss whenever they wanted to instead of coming up with elaborate schemes to get each other almost caught just so they could kiss in a back alleyway to dodge yellowjackets.
In sickness and in health. . .
There were too many times to count. Locke remembered all the times he’d bandaged Jean up after a fight, split knuckles were common, so was that damned broken nose. He remembered Jean carrying him back to the Elderglass cellar after Tesso had beaten the shit out of him. Well, after Jean had then beaten the shit out of Tesso, who didn’t have anyone to carry him back to his hideout, so Locke felt the victor in that one, carried in Jean’s strong arms.
He remembered holding Jean’s hair back as he threw up soon after he’d been initiated before he really knew his limits. He remembered when Jean had burnt his hand on the stove and Locke had done his kitchen duty for a week while it healed.
More recently, he remembered after steaking into the Salvara’s house and getting his balls smashed in by Conte and how after Jean had taken care of Locke in bed, giving him something for the pain and ice to take the swelling down.
***
Locke blinked and seemed to realize that everyone was waiting for his answer. Nazca was glaring daggers at him and the officiant looked a little worried.
“Master Lamora?” The officiant asked.
Locke looked out to the crowd, finding the faces of Calo and Galdo and Bug and. . . and no one else.
What was the point? What was the fucking point of having all the power being Nazca’s wife would bring, all the money that they already had. What was the point of any of it if he couldn’t have Jean?
Barvasi would take it as an insult even if Nazca tried to lessen his rage. He and Jean would have to leave Cammor. The other Gentleman Bastards would leave to without question, but this was their home. Locke couldn’t take them away from it. Bug wasn’t even finished his education, and they had been thinking about bringing in a new apprentice now that Bug was getting older.
“I name Calo and Galdo Sanza to be the next Capa of the Gentleman Bastards,” he said, looking between the twins and Bug as he said it. They were the only ones here that mattered. “I quit.”
Locke was quick to leave the room while everyone was still too stunned to speak. The guards didn’t even try to stop him, looking to Barvasi and Nazca for orders, but none came. Locke head back to the temple where he knew Jean would be hiding out.
“You guys really didn’t have to come cheer me up,” Jean said upon hearing the door to the cellar open. “Theres unlimited free booze.” Locke came in to see Jean splayed out on the couch, a bottle of expensive wine open, and a book open in his lap.
“Figured if I’m to be on a ship tomorrow I wouldn’t want the hangover,” Locke said.
Jean bolted upright, checked his watch. “You. . . you. . .”
“Move over, I’m not sitting in your lap,” Locke said, grabbing a second wine glass and filling it, taking the time to top up Jean’s.
Jean made room for Locke on the couch but was still astounded that Locke was even here in the first place. “Did Nazca call it off?”
“No, recalling events correctly, I did.”
“What? No. Locke you didn’t. Oh thirteen, Barvasi is going to skin us alive.”
“Which is why we’re chartering a ship away from here tomorrow morning,” Locke said taking a long drink of wine.
“What about Bug? The twins?”
Locke smiled a little at his own idea. “I made the Sanzas the Capa of the Gentleman Bastards. They can feign ignorance to us leaving, backed up by Nazca of course, who can reveal that I had other interests that would keep me from wanting to marry her, and they can continue to operate here in Cammor if they want.”
“Or we could come with you two nitwits,” Bug said, coming in through the back door of the cellar.
“Honestly, we know you’re one for spectacle Locke but seriously,” Calo said.
“Stupidest thing I’ve ever seen a man do,” Galdo said.
“I made you two Capa so that you wouldn’t have to come with us,” Locke said, a little exasperated.
Calo and Galdo both shook their heads. “Who ever said that we wouldn’t want to?” They said.
“Yeah!” Bug seconded. “You’re our Capa Locke, we follow you to death. That wedding business was stupid anyway, unless you guys are gonna do one for yourselves, in which case I will happily drink all your free booze.”
Jean laughed. “You’d be dead before you stomached that much.”
“So. . .” Galdo started.
“Does that mean. . .” Calo continued.
Jean and Locke looked at each other. They had never talked about the possibility of getting married. It hadn’t ever seemed important. What did it matter that they had some slip of paper that said they loved each other? But now it seemed an immensely important thing to do.
Locke smiled his truest smile. Not his scheming smile or his charming the mark smile his real smile. The one that lit up his whole face, reached his eyes and showed the slight wrinkles that were starting to form on his face from age.
“Jean Tannen,” Locke said, raising his wine glass towards Jean. “Would you make me the happiest man alive and do me the honor of becoming my husband in the eyes of the Crooked Warden.”
“Locke Lamora, heart of my heart, light of my life, I would love nothing more.” Jean gently clinked their wine glasses together and then they both leaned in for a kiss.
Bug made a gagging sound. “Gross, get a room.”
The Sanzas ushered their young protege out of the room. “Let the adults have their fun,” Galdo said. “This is at least better than the pining,” Calo said. “That reminds me, Bug we have a trick to teach you for if you’re ever stealing with a friend and get caught.”