It was dark outside.
Cold and around them and for the few who could still clearly think, no more than the shadows of the trees of the huge royal garden were visible.
They talked a lot, they threw out of their mouths words, laughter, which slowly lost their way in the cold of the night.
There were three of them: Brooke, Francis and Dickon and in those moments of complete honesty, it was just when they felt like true friends.
While the two friends had actually been drinking and their faces were filled with a warm and evident blush, it was the young Earl who had kept somewhat at a distance from the beer.
He had to admit that he had drunk a couple of little mugs but not more, in order not to be totally drunk in the evening.
He couldn't say the same about Brooklyn and Francis, who had drunk a lot more, mug after mug.
Dickon had been absent from the castle for a whole day, from early that morning until late in the evening and only now had he returned.
Now that the large and heavy gold hands of the clock tower pointed to eleven o'clock.
He told himself that he had to be more cautious in the future, as if it were suspicious that someone would come home at that time, like him and his companions.
He was suspicious and he knew it, he believed it, knowing he was a traitor to the crown.
Before anyone noticed him, he had to enter the room, which he shared with his twin.
Dickon Dustin knew it wasn't the best idea to leave his two friends with a few too many beers, on the loose.
He didn't even want to do it, as he waited for their sobriety to tell them everything that had happened that evening.
That night Francis in his drunkenness had slept with a woman for the first time in his life and that Brooklyn too had found somebody's company that night.
Knowing the two friends this was unpredictable to them, but apparently they were drunk enough to no longer understand what they were doing.
However, the Earl had to wait the next day to tell them everything that happened and maybe even more.
That that evening his friend and superior Francis Hoover seemed to have confessed his feelings to him.
He still didn't know if because of the beer, if what he said was true, that Francis was really interested in him.
But it was late, dark, cold and late at night to think about it, Dickon greeted them.
The young man left them there, staggering in the dark and in the huge royal garden.
He was sure in one way or another they would find their way back to their rooms, as even if drunk they were two good people.
When he arrived in his room, still groggy from alcohol and wet with sweat, he noticed that the oil lamp for the night, placed on his brother's bedside table, was still on.
What could William do still awake at midnight? Had something happened?
Dickon sat down on his bed, on his prized green blankets.
The young Earl's red hair, full of sweat, had fallen on his pale forehead and his face.
He slowly took off his sweaty white shirt, remaining completely shirtless and began to observe his twin, every movement he made.
Dickon knew he was awake but he knew somehow he was mad at him and didn't want to talk, so he had always done, ever since they were kids.
-You've finally come back...- came out of William's dry lips almost as a reproach -I haven't seen you since this morning...you asshole-.
Dickon was silent, he had nothing to say or justify himself with, but he didn't want to tell his brother the truth either, it was too risky right now.
-I went out with some of my friends, I came back only now- tried to explain his brother, appearing for the indecisive tone of voice even more suspicious than before.
William got out of bed, quickly joined his twin.
He brought his pale and freckled face closer to that of the other, he smelled, Dickon was covered in so many smells and perfumes, so difficult to decipher.
-You smell of alcohol, of beer- admitted his brother removing his nose from his brother and looking into his eyes -and this perfume, this smell, you slept with a woman I guess...or a man, what is it?!-.
His brother was too perceptive, even to be able to keep secrets from him, he was incapable, morally and physically.
William had always been the strongest and most determined of the twins and Dickon had always been a bit shy and helpless.
And now she had to reveal to him everything he had done.
-It's true- Dickon admitted one placing his pale hands on his knees, on his pants -but I assure you, brother, that all this has a purpose ...-
-The purpose of fun...- William scolded him further returning to his bed, under the covers.
He curled up on himself, he wasn't at peace, something was tormenting him, but he didn't know what.
-You go out to have fun but you don't know what is happening to us, what we have become ... hostages, puppets, in the hands of the princess, especially now that our cousin Abigail is dead-.
William rubbed the back of his hand against his eyes, what he had said hurt him, a lot.
Dickon hoped he did not understand well, he hoped all this was just a horrible nightmare, his cousin, could not be true, she could not have died, without him knowing anything.
Transparent tears rose to his eyes.
If what his brother had said was really true, he had not stayed to assist his cousin at the hour of death.
He felt guilty, he just wanted, for once, to be able to talk to her, apologize, but it was too late.
-This morning, when you were hanging out with your friend, in the city, our cousin, too much drugs, they killed her, she died in my arms- William said further wiping the tears from his eyes.
Dickon had no words, of apology, of justification or even of sadness.
Their job was to protect Abigail, watch over her, but they had failed.
Dickon had always thought about when he and his brother came home, met their older siblings again, their parents, but when would Abigail come home?
When would she see her child and her husband again? She would never see them again now that she was dead.
The young Earl turned his gaze away, he looked at the marble floor, anger and sadness burned in him.
He would have killed Isabelle, he would have had to do it with his own hands.
But he could not allow his brother to remain on the wrong side, to continue supporting a sovereign who cared more for power than for her own people.
-The revolutionaries fight for this, William- Dickon said, giving his twin a furious look.
His pale and freckled face had turned redder, not from wine or embarrassment.
For the first time, Dickon felt furious and sure of himself.
-How long will you continue to support her William?- he asked -for how long before we are all dead?-.