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Kiss It Better

Chapter 20

"Are you crying?" Evelyn said, giggling as she approached Dick. She was six years old, clad in a little blue dress with her white curls pulled either side her pretty face in pigtails that fell past her shoulders. With her tail low and her paws low at her side, she carefully drew close to Dick's back, craning her neck to see his tears.

They were at Glenhowler, the grand estate of the proud de Lion dynasty, which had thrived there generation after generation for centuries. The de Lions were foxhounds well-known for their golden manes, and it was due to this golden hue that the rumor of their supposed relation to the king and his royal bloodline had thrived. And indeed, many de Lions had inserted themselves in elaborate diagrams of King Bastion Emerald's extensive family tree while claiming to be a part of it. That they had gold in their pockets to spread the lie didn't hurt.

When Giselle was given to Louis de Lion for his mate, she was initially furious. The old hound was twice her age and had been married twice before. The dour portraits of his hideous dead wives loomed on every wall and always seemed to be watching. His son had died on the estate in a tragic accident, and so Glenhowler Manor even came complete with a chilling ghost story of rattling windows and cabinets. The constant rolling fog was only a finishing touch.

Giselle, a young girl of sixteen, wept, fought, and was practically dragged by her mane to the estate. But when she arrived . . . she fell absolutely in love with it. When Duke Louis de Lion later passed away and left it to her, she was like a pig in mud. The only thing Glenhowler wanted for was the lovely garden Giselle had left behind in Howlester.

Dick sometimes thought his mother loved the estate more than him.

Evelyn had come with Charles and her parents to visit. It was summer, and grasshoppers sprang through the fresh green grass. Flowers pressed all around them, swaying slowly in the sweet breeze. It was an absolute paradise and Dick's favorite place on the estate. Whenever he was sad, he came to the garden and sat, watching the butterflies. Evelyn had quickly learned of his habit - to his great chagrin.

Dick was sitting on a low wall in the garden when Evelyn approached, his scrawny ten-year-old body clad in a jacket, tie, and shorts. His little shoes swung as his legs dangled over the wall. He covered his knee as Evelyn drew near. He didn't want her to see the scrape on it.

"You and Charlie were fighting again," Evelyn shrilled gleefully. "Did he beat you up?"

"Shut up," Dick muttered.

"Awwww, poor Richie!" she teased, bouncing closer. "Do you have a boo boo? Let me see!" She grabbed his shoulder.

Dick gritted his teeth, and suddenly furious, he shoved her away. He gasped when he heard her scream, when he heard the rustle of bushes as she fell backward. Horror thrumming through him, he sprang up and pulled her out of the bushes. Her face was scratched and she was crying. She shoved him in the chest.

"You big - meanie!" She clutched her cut paw to her chest and glared at him.

He winced. "I'm sorry!" he wailed, flattening his ears. "Here . . . I'll kiss it better. It's what my mum does when I'm hurt."

Evelyn eyed him suspiciously, and he knew she had a right to be suspicious: Dick was known for pranking her mercilessly. She could not know it, but it was actually because he liked her. Pulling her mane and calling her names was, in his mind, akin to a kiss. It was no different from the way he treated Charles. He'd been crying in the first place because he hit Charles and Charles hit him back twice as hard. The blow made him fall and scrape his knee, and away he ran to the garden.

"I'll just kiss it," Dick said. He lifted his empty paws. "No pranks. I swear." He slowly smiled.

Evelyn slowly smiled too. ". . . alright," she said, lifting her chin in the haughty little way that always amused him. She offered her paw and lifted her brows imperiously. "But if you prank me, I'm telling my daddy."

"My lady, I would never," Dick said earnestly. He took her little paw and graciously kissed it. When he had straightened up again, she was blushing all over her little face. Her lashes fluttered and she looked away from him. "Do you know you belong to me?" he said.

Evelyn tossed her pigtails. "Ha! I belong to no one!"

"You belong to me," Dick insisted happily. "My mum said so! One day I'll marry you, and then I'll kiss you other places." He licked his lips.

Little Evelyn scowled at him. "Charles is right! You're a right turnip!" She jerked her chin again. "I belong to no male but my daddy."

Dick rolled his eyes. "You'll marry me someday. You'll see."

"Liar! Liar! Shorts on fire!" With that, Evelyn turned and bounced away, but Dick caught her tail and yanked her back. He pulled her into a hug that she struggled angrily against, and when he kissed her cheek, she squealed. He grunted when she stamped on his foot, and tears sprang to his eyes from the sudden sharp pain. She ran away screaming, "Muuuummm! Richie kissed me! Ew! Ewwwww!"

_ _"Richard? Richard?"

Dick moaned as the memory slowly slipped away. His eyes cracked open, and he moaned again at the steady throbbing that pulsed against his brain. The world was painfully bright. He whispered hoarsely for someone to shut the curtains. He was lying in his bed, and Charles was sitting near him, watching him anxiously.

"Thank god," Charles whispered and dabbed Dick's feverish forehead with a washcloth.

Dick closed his eyes. He could smell Sarah somewhere in the room. And Haskell. And the court physician Fassil. He could hear Nana in the hall, arguing with someone. He groaned. His mother.

". . . and whose fault is it for sending up wine? Didn't they have enough bloody wine during the ceremony!" Duchess Giselle practically screamed.

Dick winced. He looked at Charles. "The falcon has landed."

Charles grinned. "Now, now. We mustn't refer to your mother so when she's standing only twenty feet away. The bitch has got ears like a Chihuahua --"

"I heard that!" Duchess Giselle growled. She stormed into the room, resplendent in a ballooning gown with a high collar and deep neckline. A rope of pearls fell heavily around her throat, and her red mane was piled atop her head. A gold headband held a pearl in place on her forehead, and it gleamed in the sunlight as she rustled toward the bed. She looked a great deal like Dick: the same red mane, the same fiery gaze. And what was worse, she had triple the amount of her son's worse qualities. She whacked Sarah's backside with her cane, and the girl squealed as she dove out of her way.

Dick smiled wearily as his mother came to the bedside. "Mother," he said, moaning as he pushed himself into a sitting position. "So _glad_to see you still up and about."

Duchess Giselle had a bad cough - so bad that it sometimes landed her abed for weeks. It had been rumored for years that she was dying, but Dick knew he would never get _that_lucky.

Duchess Giselle sneered as she settled into a chair near the bedside. "Save me the sarcasm, boy. You know you wouldn't be in this situation if you weren't such a fool for that girl. Letting her drug you like this? Tch."

Dick moaned. "Sounds about right," he muttered, accepting a glass of something purple from old Fassil. He looked at the fox questioningly.

"For your head, Master Dick," the fox explained and inclined his gray head respectfully. "It will counter the painful effects of the drug --"

"And how did Evelyn get a hold of this drug, I wonder?" Duchess Giselle snapped. She eyed the fox with bitter hatred.

Fassil inclined his head again, and Dick thought a little smile twitched about his sly lips. "I have already admitted several times that the drug was mine, Master Dick. Her ladyship the duchess must have simply . . .borrowed it from me."

Dick smiled: to flat-out accuse Evelyn of stealing could have easily landed Fassil with a whipping in most households, and Duchess Giselle seemed to be waiting for any reason to whip him. She continued to stare at the fox with beady eyes. Her fingers were tight on her cane, and they glittered with rings, one of which had a diamond that could feed a small village.

"What matters is that Evelyn has run away," Charles said miserably. "We have to find her. She could be anywhere!"

"Don't shit your trousers, Charles," Duchess Giselle said contemptuously. "Just like your bleeding father, so frail and sniveling, so ready to hand over control to those more capable - as well you should. I suppose it's not your fault you're poorly bred. Verneus was of pitiable stock. And your mother . . . well, she was a _grey_hound. Enough said." She waved a derisive paw and her rings glittered in the afternoon light.

Charles stared unhappily at the coverlet, and Dick felt the anger boil in his blood. Charles' greatest fault was perhaps the fact that was a doormat. He took shit from anyone and everyone, and instead of standing up for himself, always let others ridicule him. In fact, the only one he stood up to was Dick himself, and even then, Charles _still_rolled over and let Dick fool around on him. Looking at his mother, Dick suddenly hated himself for ever walking on Charles. Not if it made him like her.

Dick closed his paw over Charles' paw and soothingly squeezed. He saw the look of alarm that crossed his lover's face but ignored it and looked at his mother. "Were you getting to a point, Mother?" he said coldly. "Or did you intend to simply screech until supper?"

Duchess Giselle sneered at Dick and Charles' clasped paws. But she turned her burning eyes away. "I sent some of my guard after Evelyn immediately. They should return with the girl in due time." Her eyes blazed over those gathered in the room, and she hissed, "Get out! All of you."

No one needed telling twice. Sarah squeaked again and practically slammed into Haskell as she retreated - who had been standing near the door and holding towels. Haskell fumbled to catch the towels before he dropped them, and bowing his head, he hurried out. Fassil and Nana followed suit.

Charles made to rise from the bed, but Dick tightened his hold on his fingers. Charles glanced at Duchess Giselle, fear bright in his eyes, but he stayed.

Duchess Giselle leaned back in her chair and smiled at their clasped paws nastily. "So," she said, fingering her cane. "You really think this is something you can carry on with? You really think I'm going to live on this estate - my estate -- and just turn my eyes every time you kiss? You think wrong."

Dick swallowed hard. "Mother --"

"No!" the duchess shrieked, and shocking them both, she brought her cane down on their clasped paws, vicious and swift. They let go with a shout. Dick felt the pain throbbing where the cane had whacked his knuckles, but he reached for Charles again. Seeing this, the duchess lurched up from her chair, and with popping eyes, struck Dick again. He hissed with pain and flattened his ears.

Charles, meanwhile, had sprung up from the bed. He backed away, whimpering as he cradled his paw. Dick was saddened to see blood running between Charles' fingers.

"Mother --!" Dick began.

"No!" the duchess shouted again. She waved her cane so furiously that a lick of her red mane tumbled free of her bun. "If I ever," she said, pointing her cane at Dick, "see you so much as look at that - mongrel! -- again!" She stabbed her cane at Charles, who flinched and flattened his ears.

"Mother," Dick said through his teeth, "I love him --"

"He is beneath you!" the duchess snapped over him. "And what's more, he is male." She shook her head. "What is the matter with you, boy? Evelyn is a healthy, fine specimen. Robust. Curvaceous and strong." She lifted her chin proudly. "Just like her mother. Just like I. And yet . . . you chose that . . . sniveling_creature and his _gutter blood?" She looked at Charles and her eyes glittered disgust. She looked at Dick, and he hated himself when the sudden shame clenched his throat. He bowed his head and said nothing as she began to pace, banging her cane with every turn.

Charles cleared his throat. "We love each other, Aunty Giselle. There's nothing you can do about it," he said softly.

Duchess Giselle hissed, her eyes going wide as she turned on her cane. "Don't you call me that, boy! I am no aunt of yours! You are not a Kingsley but the spawn of some mongrel bitch_from the desert. Your miserable father had the _gall to mess around on my sister, and now look at the result. You. You fucking my son. Turning him from his duty as a purebred foxhound! I won't allow it." She turned her burning eyes on Dick. "If you carry on with him, I will disown you, Richard. You'll be able to live finely off Evelyn's wealth, but you'll never be able to show your face in public again."

Dick stared at the coverlet and said nothing, letting the weight of her words fall over him. After a long pause, he whispered, "Is this why you sent Edward away? The real reason?"

Sudden tears sprang in Duchess Giselle's eyes. "I told you . . . not to speak of --!"

Dick lifted his face, and his expression was twisted with sudden rage. "Is this why!" he shouted at her. "Because he sucked a little cock and Mother Dear couldn't stand it!"

Duchess Giselle gasped. "How dare you use such language in the presence of your mother!"

"You're no mother of mine!" Dick shouted. He threw the coverlet off and sprang up from the bed.

Faced with her son's wrath, tears pooled from Duchess Giselle's eyes. But she stood her ground. Her face creased into a foul expression as Dick marched to her, and before he realized it had happened, she smacked him hard across the face. The sound cut the air even as her rings cut his cheek. They stood for a long time, glaring at each other through tendrils of red mane.

". . . just like your father," Duchess Giselle whispered, a tear clinging to her lashes. She slowly shook her head, and another lick of red mane drifted loose from her imperious bun. "_Just_like your bloody father," she said through her fangs. "You know he fucked around on me with males? I never wanted to marry him. I never wanted any of it. But I did my duty as a Kingsley!" She lifted her chin. "And so will you!" She turned on her cane and limped out, her back stiff.

Dick's chest heaved. "I love him, Mother!" he shouted at her. "Bring Evelyn home, and I'll play the husband, but I won't give him up!"

The duchess paused at the door and glared at her son. "You will, boy," she said coldly. "Or I'll make your life a living hell."

Dick watched bitterly as his mother went out the door and quietly closed it behind her. It took him a moment to realize his chest was heaving, that his paws were shaking. He took a shuddering breath and blinked when he felt Charles touch his face.

"Sit down, baby," Charles whispered. "You're trembling . . ."

Without thinking, Dick obeyed, sinking into the red cushioned chair his mother had vacated. He couldn't stop glaring at the door, as if she were still standing there, as if she could feel the burn of his gaze. Charles hovered over him uncertainly, and taking him by the arm, Dick pulled him down in his lap.

"Oh . . . she hurt you," Dick whispered, examining the cut on Charles' knuckles.

Charles shook his head and tried to pull his paw free, blinking furiously. Dick knew he was trying not to cry.

"No . . . I'm alright . . ."

"No . . . let me kiss it better," Dick insisted. His movements heavy, Dick wrapped Charles' paw in his kerchief, then kissed it. He looked at his lover miserably. "I'm so sorry, Charlie."

"No, your mother is right --"

"What!"

"We never should have . . ." Charles halted and bit his lip. "It's not r-right . . ." he whispered, a sob in his voice as he lowered his face. A tear blotted his spectacles.

Dick gently lifted his chin and looked into his eyes. "When I'm with you, nothing is more right."

Charles sighed miserably. "Don't say such things. You're making it harder to . . ."

Dick's face hardened. "To what? To leave me?"

Charles looked at him unhappily. "Yes. You should be with Evelyn. This is how it was always going to be - how it's supposed to be. Evelyn can give you children, heirs. She's purebred, the real heir of this estate. And the public will respect your marriage, whereas dallying with me will only earn you the court's hatred and spite . . ."

Dick felt the tears spring to his eyes. He frowned. "You . . . can't be serious."

Charles avoided his gaze. "I'll stay until your mother is well. I noticed her cough is getting worse --"

"Charlie!" Dick caught him as he started up from his lap.

Charles pried himself away and swallowed hard. "This isn't something you can kiss and make better, Richard." Sorrow drawing his brows together, he turned from the room and quietly closed the door behind him.

Dick sat in the silence, letting those final parting words crack his heart.