FLAVIAN STARED out his bedchamber window the next morning, watching as the sun gilded the city of Askara below him. He should be itching to paint it, to capture the play of light on stone and water just right.
But he wasn’t.
He hadn’t slept after he left the party, left Ezekiel standing alone in a corridor thinking Flavian was insane. And perhaps he was.
Because if Ezekiel had still wanted Flavian, he wouldn’t anymore, not after Flavian’s ridiculous outburst. Yes, it had hurt to watch Ezekiel talking and flirting so easily with other people, but there was a better way of handling it than what he had done.
If only he hadn’t let his fears overwhelm him. He’d thought he might have been beginning to get over them, to silence those voices that told him Ezekiel would never want him, not as
