Cross Purposes (Chronicles of Ylandre, Book 5) (14 page)

He also gave the Deir instructions in how to care for the wound as it healed though he doubted the latter would follow his directions. More likely the scoundrel would sell the extra roll of bandages and ampoule of ointment Tristen handed him in order to buy more liquor. Tristen would not be the least bit surprised if the Deir returned within a sennight complaining of a lack of improvement.

His instructor however was quite pleased with his work and complimented him on his precision and speed. Tristen beamed with relief when the Deir allowed him to leave ahead of the others. The early dismissal gave him more time to do some errands before he headed home.

“Ho there, Tristen!” he heard someone hail him as he hurried out of the building. “Are you done for the day?”

He waited for a small group of schoolmates to approach him. They shared a number of classes at the neighboring arts and sciences college and Tristen counted them as friends, though of late he’d only infrequently kept company with them.

“Yes, I’m done,” he replied when they joined him.

“Oh good!” a second student said. “Argil here discovered a new tavern on the edge of the east district. We’re headed there. Do join us.”

“Hearty food and good beer,” Argil, a tall brown-haired lad, confirmed. “And reasonably priced too. It’s a real find, I tell you.”

Tristen blew his breath out and regretfully said, “That sounds tempting. But I can’t go with you now. I have some errands to run. Perhaps another day.”

“It’s always another day,” Argil remarked with a pout. “Are you certain it’s errands that are keeping you from us this time or the curfew your guardian imposes on you?”

“He isn’t my guardian,” Tristen retorted. “And I follow no curfew.”

“For a non-guardian, he’s rather strict with you though,” the first student, a sturdy youth named Melande commented. “Mayhap you don’t have a curfew, but your time is rather restricted, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Argil said. “Why is that? What are you to him that he guards you like some precious gem?”

Tristen felt his cheeks grow warm. “He and my brother are close friends. Indeed Lord Keosqe is like family to us. He’s just being protective toward me.”

“More like possessive,” Melande suggested. When the others turned reproving stares on him, he protested, “Oh come now, you’ve all noticed, haven’t you?”

“Noticed what?” Tristen asked with some apprehension.

“How often he fetches you and the way he looks at anyone who dares seek your company for too long. Surely you’ve noticed how we all hesitate to approach you when he’s around.”

“He does have an intimidating air about him,” Argil agreed. “I daren’t invite you anywhere in his presence.”

“Not to mention the fact that he heads Internal Affairs,” Melande pointed out. “I wouldn’t put it past him to have his people follow Tristen about.”

“True that.”

Tristen rolled his eyes. “That’s ridiculous! Keosqe would never abuse his position for personal reasons.”

“My, how ardently you defend him,” Melande said with a knowing grin. “So, if he isn’t your guardian, perhaps he’s much more than that?”

Stifling a grimace of alarm, Tristen shook his head. “I salute your imagination, Mel, wild as it is. Now I really must go.” He turned away and hurried on down the corridor. “I’ll join you next time,” he called over his shoulder.

He ignored the skeptical hoots that followed as he hurried off. But he was shaken. Melande had skirted too close to the truth and that was not good at all. Not when Tristen was far from ready to reveal to one and all that he was keeping intimate company with his brother’s best friend, who happened to be many years his senior to boot.

He frowned when he recalled Argil’s words. He could not deny his friend’s contention that Keosqe’s manner with him was intriguing. Ever since the noble declared his love, he expressed that love freely in private and only tempered it somewhat in public. And that did not include reining in a streak of jealousy Tristen had not previously suspected him of having.

He understood Keosqe had not completely recovered from his loss of Veare to another Deir. For that reason he did not begrudge Keosqe his bouts of jealousy. His lover was still a bit insecure about their relationship and Tristen had to admit his reticence about his own feelings added fuel to the noble’s uncertainties. He sometimes considered admitting that he did care for Keosqe far more deeply than he dared show, but then his fears would set in and he would back away from confessing anything.

Everything had happened so fast and before he’d had a chance to fully process the changes to his life and his very being. Until he was no longer beset by doubts and anxieties about carrying on an affair with one like Keosqe Deilen, Tristen preferred to err on the side of caution and discretion.

* * * *

After a quick stop at the bank to withdraw funds from his savings, he headed for the main market in the west district with the intention of visiting the jewelcraft stalls. He had to find Keosqe a proper gift. He could not afford anything too expensive, but neither was he willing to settle for some common trinket. Whatever his gripes about his lover’s overbearing ways, he did appreciate Keosqe’s kindness and generosity. Getting him the perfect gift would be his way of showing his gratitude. The problem was, he had no idea what might possibly constitute perfection for so highborn and wealthy a Deir.

He was rooting around the offerings of one promising stall when someone tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around to find Riodan Leyhar behind him. The bronze-haired diplomat greeted him, then gestured at the selection before them.

“Let me guess. You wish to buy Keosqe a begetting day gift,” he said.

Tristen flushed. Even if he had been given leave to address them all familiarly, he was still diffident around the influential Deira who formed not only Keosqe’s circle of friends, but were also accounted among the Ardan’s confidants. Riodan was not a blueblood but he was landed gentry and bore a very respectable name. Furthermore, his family was extremely affluent. Besides, his sire was one of Ylandre’s foremost ambassadors. Rumor had it that Riodan was not only following in Theron Leyhar’s footsteps; he would likely exceed his sire’s accomplishments.

“It’s tomorrow and I still haven’t got him anything,” Tristen said after returning the ambassador’s greeting. “I really don’t know what he might possibly want, Riodan-
dyhar
. He already has everything.”

Riodan smiled. “He might have everything a Deir needs, but not necessariy what he desires,” he pointed out. “He’s very fond of you, Tristen.” His tone of voice indicated he knew Keosqe’s feelings for Tristen went beyond mere affection for a friend. “I wager he would welcome something that suggested you return the sentiment in part.”

Tristen flushed once more. It was obvious the ambassador was aware of the state of his relationship with Keosqe. Deity’s blood, what else had his lover told the others?

“I’m not … that is, I haven’t figured out yet how I feel…” Tristen stammered. “It’s so confusing and-and…”

“And Keosqe can be quite persistent when he sets his mind to it,” Riodan finished for him. “Well, that is definite evidence of the extent of his feelings for you. But don’t think you’re obligated to know your own or that you must return them immediately. Love may strike swiftly at times. But it can also grow on you so slowly you sometimes don’t realize that you are in love.”

Tristen considered the advice. He had to admit it made him feel much better. Some of the tension from the pressure of his perceived obligation to Keosqe dissipated and he smiled gratefully at Riodan.

“I do like him very much,” he admitted. “Indeed it gladdens me when I’m able to make him laugh or smile, especially after he’s had a long day.”

“And do you enjoy pleasing him as well?”

The implications of the diplomat’s statement forced color into Tristen’s cheeks a third time in a row. Well, that certainly answered his question as to what Keosqe had revealed to those closest to him.

“I do,” he mumbled, embarrassed at revealing so intimate a matter. At the same time, he was glad Riodan had couched what he and Keosqe did in general terms—“pleasing” rather than “pleasuring.”

“Then you return certain of his feelings for you.” Riodan bent over the flat velvet-lined box of wristlets. “In which case, were you to indicate how much you appreciate that part of your relationship, I imagine it would make Keosqe very happy.”

“It would?”

“I’m fairly certain.”

Riodan picked up a wristlet. It was made of woven leather strips and tiny discs of beaten silver. The center disc was inlaid with a decent-sized heartsfire.

Tristen stared at the piece in some consternation. The deep red gem was the symbol of lust and passion. Indeed, the stone was oft associated with the famed
hethare
, the brotherhood of Deira who provided companionship both convivial and sexual at a high price.

But the heartsfire was also emblematic of intimate relationships. If they so wished, Deira who’d reached the age of consent donned stud earrings of the stone to announce it was legal for them to engage in sexual acts. Betrothed people and concubines, on the other hand, bore gold or silver earrings inlaid with the gem to indicate they already belonged to someone. And the presence of a heartsfire in other jewelry such as bracelets, broaches or necklaces, especially one meant as a gift, indicated an intention of courtship.

It was this last symbolism that disconcerted Tristen. Were he to gift Keosqe with the wristlet, he would in essence be telling the noble he wished to romance him!

“But I’m not courting him!” he protested.

Riodan laughed. “Indeed not. You’re already beyond that stage. But this need not convey courtship. In the language of international relations, when a stone is prised out of its setting in a piece of jewelry—say a collar or broach—and given separately to the recipient—usually the foreign affairs minister—it signifies an offer to establish diplomatic relations between two nations. Once the pact is confirmed, the gem is affixed once more in its setting and the restored jewelry is then gifted to the receiving country’s ruler.”

Tristen gaped. “That’s amazing. I didn’t know that.”

“Very few outside the diplomatic community do.”

“But why the roundabout manner of opening talks?”

“Because if the other nation declines the offer, there will be little to no public loss of face for the country initiating the talks. All that needs be done is for the recipient to return the jewelry. I can tell you’re thinking that’s a lot of trouble to go through to salve a nation’s pride. I promise you pricked pride has launched as many conflicts as conquest and vengeance.”

“Then it’s actually a kind of code?”

“Exactly.”

“Fascinating.” Tristen eyed the wristlet with interest. “So if I gave that to Lord Keosqe, it would signal that I’m willing to, er, further my relationship with him?”

Riodan nodded approvingly. “You’re very quick-witted.”

Tristen smiled faintly. “Thank you,
Dyhar
. But will he understand my meaning? Does he know the code?”

“When one works in government and occupies as high a position as a Ministry head, it’s wise to learn these things. One never knows when one might have to deal with one’s foreign counterpart. So, yes, Keosqe knows it.”

Tristen took the wristlet and examined it closely. It looked familiar and he wondered why. And then he recalled where he had seen one like it. On the left wrist of Dylen Essendri, the Ardan’s half-brother.

“Doesn’t Lord Dylen wear a wristlet similar to this?” he asked.

Riodan appeared to start. “So you’ve seen it?” he said in an oddly hushed voice.

“During the royal wedding reception at the Citadel.” Tristen wondered about Riodan’s reaction. “His sleeve rode up a bit and I saw the wristlet. I thought it strange that he wore something so informal with court dress. He quickly pulled the sleeve down again, as if he didn’t want it seen.”

“He doesn’t,” Riodan confirmed with a sigh. “It’s a long tale and quite unpleasant in some parts. But I can’t relate it to you without his permission. It would only further anger him.”

Tristen regarded the ambassador curiously. Clearly Riodan knew the full tale. Perhaps he was even part of it?

Seeing that the topic had made Riodan pensive, Tristen refrained from probing for more information and turned to ask the stall owner for the price of the wristlet. With some dexterous haggling he managed to whittle the price down to suit his budget. And with Riodan’s help, he was able to explain to the puzzled Deir what he wanted done to the wristlet.

Profusely thanking Riodan, he parted ways with him at the market entrance and made his way home, his purchase wrapped in gold tissue and tied with silver cord.

* * * *

Tristen decided to give his gift that evening. Judging from the past, Keosqe would be receiving all sorts of presents and, due to his social rank and closeness to the center of political power in the kingdom, not just from kith and kin, but also from those who hoped to curry favor with him. If Tristen waited until tomorrow, his gift might wind up lost among the others, particularly the far more costly or extravagant items. Worse, it might go the way of those items Keosqe deemed not quite to his taste or simply extraneous—as a donation to any of the charitable establishments the noble supported.

He got to the dining room ahead and placed the little package beside the cutlery. He then nervously sat down in his customary place and waited for Keosqe.

When Keosqe arrived and greeted him, he mumbled a response and fidgeted with the hem of his tunic. Would his lover notice it? Would he like it? Would he wear it? Or was it too plain for a highborn Deir and wind up tucked into a corner of his jewelry case? But surely something Riodan Leyhar had helped him choose would be appropriate, wouldn’t it? The questions collided in his mind until he was quite giddy from thinking about it and started to question the wisdom of his choice.

“Tris?”

Tristen stiffened and warily looked up. Relief washed over him like a gentle wave when he descried Keosqe’s beaming face. His lover had unwrapped the package to reveal the wristlet.