Page 5 of Jonathon, After All

Their hands were still interlocked and Leo noted how light and warm Jonathon’s palm was as it rested against his. But he wasn’t warm like the sun, Leo realized as he drew closer. Jonathon was incandescent and glowed with the soft brightness of a star. It was a quieter, gentler light that was easy to stare at, not an overwhelming, blinding bright like the sun.

“She is but she prefers contemporary fiction, in English, and there isn’t any in here,” Jonathon chuckled, then jumped when his gaze dropped to their hands. “I should go,” he said, but his hand remained curled around Leo’s. “This is your…castle.” His nose scrunched adorably and he snorted. “This might be the most surreal moment ever. And I’ve seen so much, living with Muriel,” he whispered and winced at Leo. “But I don’t want to distract you and you do not have to hide from her.”

“You’re a welcome distraction at the moment.” Leo gave Jonathon’s hand a slight squeeze, reluctant as he let go. He noted how long Jonathon’s fingers were and the callouses on the pads as they brushed against Leo’s. “I’m not supposed to be working and I came here to take my mind off of…things,” he confided.

Jonathon glanced at the ledger by the armchair and smirked knowingly. “So you chose those ancient crop reports for entertainment? No wonder you’re bored.”

“How did you…?” Leo turned to the opened ledger, then back to Jonathon, shocked.

“Roggen and Gerste are rye and barley, are they not?”

Leo’s brows jumped, he was impressed. “There were a series of crop failures during this period that caused terrible inflation and brought the state to bankruptcy. I was interested to see how Schönbühel had contributed and had been affected,” he explained and Jonathon’s nose wrinkled again as his head tilted.

“I believe the monarchy was spending a great deal on the military at the time and that that might have been a contributing factor,” he added gently, surprising Leo again.

This time, he couldn’t contain his laughter. “That is indeed true and is often the case when a state finds itself in financial straits,” he conceded. “What do you recommend if one’s looking for a distraction?” he asked and immediately regretted it when Jonathon’s eyes grew wider and his cheeks turned pink.

“Um…” He looked around quickly. “I beg your pardon?”

“To read!” Leo replied, holding up his hands defensively. “I meant to read. I swear,” he added.

Jonathon made a choking, snorting sound before he burst into laughter. “I’m so glad I’m not the only one who can’t keep his feet out of his mouth.” He waved it off and smiled at Leo before turning and scanning the room around them. “Not that I’m entirely opposed to the idea, mind you,” he said, winking over his shoulder. “But I barely know you, Mr. von Hessen, and we’ve only just arrived. I’m still on New York time and feeling jet-lagged.”

“Very inconsiderate of me. You have my apologies,” Leo said, chuckling as he bowed. He would have Sabine enquire about Jonathon’s age, but Leo already knew he was far too young. And Leo was at Schönbühel to get a handle on his blood pressure and anxiety and mind his ulcers. Something tawdry with a pretty young American was not how Leo intended to start his tenure as Margrave and would not be good for stress. “What did you have in mind?” he asked, gesturing at the shelves around them.

“I think…” Jonathon hummed thoughtfully, his finger beating against the tip of his chin. “We are in a breathtaking castle in Austria and you are a prince, so I think a collection of fairy tales would be fun. Anything from the Brothers Grimm?” he asked, raising his brows at Leo.

“I recall seeing a few old copies of some Grimms’ tales,” Leo said as he offered his arm and was pleased when Jonathon didn’t hesitate to accept it.

“Lead the way.”

They had found the library’s collection of fairy tales and Jonathon appeared fascinated as he selected a book. But Leo had fallen under a spell that afternoon and the weeks that had followed were a precious fantasy he had treasured.

“What happened to my Jonathon?” Leo murmured distantly, returning to the Plaza and Sabine. “Go. Find him.”

“Of course, dearest,” she said as she bowed, then hurried off, leaving Leo to his thoughts and a quickly rising tide of regret.

“I’m so sorry, Jonathon. I don’t know what I’ve done, but I’ll fix it.”

Three

Growing up in the Olympia had lots of obvious perks, but Jonathon admired and appreciated the old place like a beloved relative and liked to think he knew most of her secrets. Probably because he didn’t have many other relatives aside from Muriel and the historic and iconic apartment building had been Jonathon’s closest companion as a child.

He had crept around its elegant hallways and had hidden in its alcoves and abandoned stairwells, eavesdropping or pretending to be a French spy or a stowaway on the Nile. Those years of silly subterfuge and Jonathon’s intimate knowledge of Muriel’s habits and her routine had come to his rescue when he snuck out of 8B and into 6A just before dawn.

Jonathon had taken a fire escape from the 8th floor and slipped through his bathroom window. There had been no need to rush because Muriel slept as hard as a log and snored as loud as a chainsaw. Thankfully, Muriel’s standard poodle, Calista, was useless as a guard dog, her snores nearly as loud as her mistress’s. Jonathon had kept his bedroom door cracked so he could listen as he packed everything he’d need and carefully pushed the tall bookshelf in front of the closet, hiding his secret studio.

He wouldn’t put it past Muriel to use his absence as an excuse to snoop for clues. She liked to think of herself as an amateur sleuth and had often enlisted Jonathon in her batty schemes. Humoring her had been half self-preservation and half entertainment because there was no predicting what Muriel would come up with next. Her schemes were guaranteed to either dazzle or backfire in the most ridiculous manner, which suited Jonathon as he was on a mission to make an utter jackass out of himself whenever possible.

Before he disappeared again, Jonathon left his phone and a note to Muriel in the foyer for Tilly, the housekeeper, to find. He promised them he was fine and would explain everything later. He had also apologized and begged Muriel not to worry. Jonathon knew he owed her as much, after years of supporting him and keeping a comfortable roof over his head.

Muriel had stepped into the middle of his parents’ very messy divorce after it was revealed that Jonathon’s father had embezzled and lost millions. She had offered to bail the family out of their financial predicament in exchange for guardianship of Jonathon. Neither of Jonathon’s parents wanted to be stuck with a mopey eight-year-old and were happy to hand him over.

Jonathon had imagined all sorts of terrible scenarios, including grueling hours of scrubbing floors and cleaning chimneys. But it turned out that Muriel had simply been lonely, and possibly concerned about the fate of her youngest relative. Muriel was actually his mother’s aunt and had only known of Jonathon’s existence from holiday cards and family pictures before he was delivered to the Olympia, along with his luggage and painting supplies.

“You, come and sit over here and help me with this cake,” she had ordered when he first peeked into her sitting room, waving at a cart bearing a tea service, a two-tiered Black Forest cake, and finger sandwiches. “And do try to be more interesting than your parents. You’ve already cost me an ungodly amount of money.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jonathon had mumbled, hurrying to join her on the sofa.