Bram Stoker's HANNIBAL

Chapter 20: The Anguish That Bows Down My Head

"Hannibal!"

Will hurried along the castle corridor, chasing after the broad, shapely back that was turned his direction. Hannibal was walking quickly with Mischa at his side, their heads bent toward one another, talking in hushed tones.

"Hannibal, wait!" Will rounded another corner, then gave up decorum and good sense and broke into a run, catching up with them before they could disappear down the hall toward the main staircase.

"I'll join you in a moment," Hannibal said to Mischa as Will skidded to a stop in front of him, not far from the door to the west wing depicting the Tree of Life. Hannibal smiled, opening his arms, and if anyone else had been looking, Will thought, they might have thought the expression was genuine. But since arriving at the castle, and especially since the engagement had become official, Will had been an eager student of everything about his future husband; he was quickly learning the smallest changes in emotion evident in Hannibal's face. Something was wrong.

Will embraced him tightly and accepted the warm if distracted kiss. "I've been looking for you all day," he said. "Didn't, ah... anyone tell you?"

"My apologies, beloved, I've had duties to attend to."

Will pulled back, crossing his arms over the blue doublet he wore, fingers twitching against the gold stitching. He'd asked Marissa to have it ready this morning because he knew how well it brought out his eyes, and he wanted Hannibal to see it as well. See it, admire it, think about what it would look like crumpled up on the floor of the bedchamber. It was a silly excuse to see his beloved, of course – they'd been making silly excuses to be together ever since Will had arrived. Again he was struck by the detached way Hannibal was with him now, even his kiss seeming like it was holding something back.

"Reba says a messenger came this morning, just after dawn," Will tried, then waited. Hannibal just looked at him. "What message did he bring?"

"Nothing of immediate concern," Hannibal reassured him, though woodenly, lifting Will's hand to his lips for a perfunctory kiss. "I'll see you tonight, beloved, I have to arrange a few details, and then–"

"Stop," Will ordered, pulling his hand away roughly. "Don't lie to me."

Hannibal's eyes went dark. "I wouldn't lie to you."

"You're not saying something, then. That's a lie."

"I've told you the truth in my own way," Hannibal evaded. "For now, can you trust me?"

"Do you trust me?" Will demanded, raising his voice. A pair of maids at the end of the hall poked their heads around the corner, eyes wide. Will ignored them. "Evidently not."

Hannibal took a step closer, squaring his shoulders. If he wanted Will to back down simply by making his presence more robust, it wasn't going to work. "Tell me what's going on," Will demanded, the stone walls around them ringing with the firm cadence of his voice.

"It's nothing you should concern yourself with. There's nothing to be done about it."

"If that were so, you wouldn't be... in pain," Will said, uncrossing his arms and inching forward, as if he might startle Hannibal and drive him away.

"Let it be," Hannibal warned him. "When the time is right—"

"Now," Will insisted.

Hannibal's hand shot out and caught his chin roughly for a moment, his grip trembling with anger. But within seconds, looking into Will's eyes, he melted, relaxing his hold and cupping Will's cheek instead, stroking it with his sword-roughened thumb. "I didn't want to burden you," he said softly as Will came to him, sliding his arms around Hannibal's waist, pressing in close.