Cross Purposes (Chronicles of Ylandre, Book 5) (18 page)

“I wasn’t going to deny what you said or defend him,” Keosqe replied. “You’re probably right though we mustn’t completely discount the possibility that he does care about your academic progress. He didn’t try to stop you from taking medical studies after all and even accompanied you here to help you get into the medical college.”

“That’s true,” Tristen grudgingly admitted. “So what do you plan to do? From your expression I can tell you want to do something to help him.”

Keosqe shrugged. “What can I do aside from offer him comfort?”

“Comfort?” Tristen repeated sharply.

“Not
that
kind of comfort,” Keosqe said with a chuckle. “I don’t care to lure anyone into adultery. And anything more than a hug is reserved wholly for you.”

Tristen felt his cheeks grow warm. “I wasn’t trying to insinuate anything,” he mumbled, still capable of being abashed when Keosqe spoke in intimate terms with him. “So, how do you propose to offer him comfort? Ask him to come here?”

“And further drive a wedge between him and Narion?” Keosqe shook his head. “That would be most imprudent and only deepen Narion’s suspicions about us.”

“Do you mean that’s what they argued about?” Tristen said with a gasp. “Narion somehow got wind of your affair and left my brother in a fit of jealousy?”

“Nay, not our affair. He knows nothing about it. But he
is
jealous of our closeness and Veare’s reliance on me. He doesn’t know about our long friendship and thus can’t understand why Veare still turns to me for counsel or company to this day.”

“I can’t say I blame him,” Tristen said. “It must be very irritating to hear your qualities extolled when he can’t possibly compare with you in any way—name, wealth or even comeliness.”

“Why thank you,
ariad
,” Keosqe said, grinning. He planted a kiss on Tristen’s lips without warning. Giving an indignant Tristen no time to react, he added, “I’d best advise Veare to keep me out of his conversations with Narion, save when it has to do with your residency here.”

Tristen pursed his lips in some embarrassment. He’d enjoyed the kiss, but he could not dispel his anxiety that someone might walk in on them and catch them thusly.

“I doubt Veare will appreciate a mere letter,” he pointed out.

Keosqe nodded. “Which is why I’m going to Sidona to tell him in person.”

Tristen tamped down on a surge of jealousy that Keosqe would drop everything to be at Veare’s side in his time of trouble.

“When?”

“Two days hence.”

“Very well, I’m coming with you.”

Keosqe’s eyes danced with delight and amusement. “Ah, to keep an eye on me?” he said with a teasing smile.

Tristen snorted. “Nay, to keep an eye on Veare. If he monopolizes you too much, that would only bolster Narion’s suspicions.” He noticed Keosqe’s smile had faded somewhat and it prompted him to add, “Not to mention annoy me beyond reason. Not that I’d be jealous,” he hastily qualified. “But given that we’re, uh … well…”

“Lovers,” Keosqe helpfully supplied, his smile widening once more.

Tristen smoothed a hand over his face. “Anyway, it’s natural I’d be irritated if he kept you to himself the whole time. Especially considering that you were intimate once.”

He yelped softly when Keosqe pulled him onto his lap and kissed his brow and nose before taking a long draught of his lips. Keosqe pressed their foreheads together though he kept his eyes trained on Tristen in a soft gaze.

“You don’t often act thusly toward me,” he murmured. “It pleases me.”

Tristen trembled as more kisses were pressed to his face and jaw and the side of his neck. He understood what Keosqe meant. Tristen seldom showed possessiveness of Keosqe’s attention so that when he did, it meant much to his lover.

“Well, it’s only logical,” he muttered, progressively undone by the kisses.

Keosqe softly laughed. “But of course,” he agreed before preempting further conversation through the blistering seal of their mouths.

Chapter 11

Doubts

Nivare, Sidona

Of all the great fiefs of Ylandre, Sidona was closest in distance to Rikara. The fief lay twenty leagues southwest of the capital and it was possible to reach it in a day’s time if one traveled by mount or coach. A journey via translocation took only a matter of minutes.

Like most born healers, Tristen possessed the latter talent. But he seldom had opportunity to employ it and the experience of carving the ephemeral tunnel that connected one location to another remained fresh and a little worrisome. Thus he was happy to leave it to Keosqe to generate the translocation portal that would allow them swift passage to Sidona’s capital of Nivare.

Following the unspoken rule of never opening a portal in densely populated areas, they had ridden out with six warriors to the Great Field, that vast plain of meadows, farms, vineyards, and copses outside Rikara. Tristen looked askance at their escort. Though he knew it was a matter of protocol, having soldiers accompany them to Nivare amused him. Did they really need half a dozen fully armed Deira to protect them when they were headed for territory Keosqe could literally call his own? Or would when he succeeded his sire as Herun of Sidona. For that matter, protect them from who or what in the heart of the Deilens’ seat of power?

Tristen took a deep breath as the portal blossomed before them in a burst of coruscating light muted by what appeared to be a misty veil. Once the entry was fully open, he urged his steed forward to follow Keosqe into its dimly lit depths.

They emerged shortly from the passage little more than a mile from Nivare, on one side of the main road leading to the city. Tristen admitted to relief at the brevity of their journey within. He found travel by translocation discomfiting, not only because of the otherworldly light and cold within, but also the stillness and silence broken only by what sounded like the whisper of wind passing by. It was
too
quiet. The lack of normal sound made Tristen think of tombs and the like. It was not a pleasant comparison to say the least.

The warmth of sunlight and caress of a cool breeze against his face soothed his unease and forced his mild giddiness into retreat. Not to the mention the sight of Nivare itself. Located on the edge of one of the many sprawling forests for which Sidona was known, the city always looked warm and inviting even at the height of winter due to the predominantly terracotta and sandy hues of its structures.

Sidona’s capital was neither as large nor populous as Rikara and it also lacked some of the cosmopolitan features of Ylandre’s premier city. But that was a good thing as far as Tristen was concerned. Nivare’s equivalent of Rikara’s south district was far smaller and the number of poverty-stricken citizens and criminal elements was correspondingly lower as well. The vices and other similar distractions endemic in most of the great cities of Aisen were also limited or absent. And the Nivarens preferred to keep it that way.

They rode down the wide road at a leisurely pace. There were not that many travellers about but those who passed them by were quick to pay obeisance to Keosqe. Ever the dutiful heir apparent, Keosqe took the time to acknowledge his people’s greetings and spoke to a few who drew his interest. In this fashion did they make their way to the city outskirts.

They did not proceed to Keosqe’s home, but instead headed into the heart of the city’s affluent section. The enclave of Nivare’s wealthy and influential citizens, it took up nearly the entire eastern portion of the city proper and attested to the prosperity of Nivare’s upper class. The section’s primary road wound through the middle of it before merging into the long paved drive to the Deilen estate in the southeast of the city, which in turn reached nigh to the bounds of one of the surrounding woods.

Tristen wrinkled his nose in distaste when they halted before one of the largest houses in the section. The four-story building all but screamed new money to the old rich of the city. But that was what Veare’s mate was. Narion’s family would never have been accepted in this enclave without the benefit of marriage into Sidona’s aristocracy. Indeed Tristen suspected it was Veare who had insisted on purchasing the house, which was located on the street where he had once lorded it over as the eldest son and heir of a Sidonan baron. Unfortunately, his tastes had changed and not for the better during the years of exile and forced thrift.

I wouldn’t live here even if he paid me to do so
, Tristen decided with some disdain as they entered his brother’s new home.

Everything inside—the décor, furnishings and even architectural touches—seemed to have been chosen to impress the owners’ wealth upon visitors as blatantly as possible. He winced as he ran his hand along the ornate bannister as they ascended from the luxuriously appointed front foyer to the second floor. Did it really have to be overlaid with gold leaf as well? Even the balustrade of the Citadel’s main stairway was not as lavishly embellished as this.

Tristen rolled his eyes more than usual as his brother proudly showed off the rest of his residence to them. Saints above, the whole place was opulence incarnate.

As expected, Narion was absent. And to Tristen’s annoyance, Veare did not waste time on pleasantries, but at once began to air his grievances. Ostensibly to both of them, but it soon became apparent it was Keosqe he wished to complain to. What he expected Keosqe to do about his problem, Tristen could not imagine nor did he care to wait around while his lover tried to talk Veare into acknowledging his part in the quarrel and to make peace with Narion. So he excused himself and headed to the nursery to see his nephew.

“I pray you won’t grow up like your
adda
,” he cooed at little Nimrael as he lifted the babe from his crib. Ugh, it sounded wrong to call Veare thusly given that among bluebloods, the caregiver parent was usually the birthing father as well, a role taken by the untitled or lesser in station between spouses. He wondered if his brother was at all uncomfortable at turning tradition on its head. Tristen certainly was. “Hopefully, you’ll turn out more sensible than he.”

As if to show agreement with his uncle, Nimrael patted Tristen’s face with his chubby hands and then crowed his delight when he managed to grab a fistful of hair.

“Ouch!” Tristen yelled when the child tugged at his locks. “
Heyas
! You’re strong for your age, aren’t you? Oops, pardon my language, Nim.”

He glanced warily at Nimrael’s caregiver just a few feet away, wondering if the Deir had heard his imprecation. But the caregiver was busy folding his charge’s diapers and putting away clothing and beddings in their respective cabinets and did not so much as glance their way. Tristen blew his breath out in relief. The last thing he desired was a scolding and a lecture about the need to mind one’s tongue around impressionable tots.

* * * *

Tristen entertained his nephew until the babe fell asleep in his arms, tuckered out by the excitement of playing with his more gamesome uncle. After laying Nimrael in his crib, he headed back to the main parlor where he had left Keosqe and Veare to their discussion.

He paused on the threshold of the room and peered in to check if he would be interrupting them. He caught his breath and pursed his lips when he spotted the pair. They were seated together on the couch, Veare’s head resting on Keosqe’s shoulder and Keosqe’s arms around Veare, cradling his friend close. Tristen heard the last of Veare’s complaints as his brother unburdened himself.

He had seen them in that pose many times while he was growing up. In those days he had taken their closeness for nothing more than the intimacy of dear friends. But now he was aware of Keosqe’s long held feelings for his brother, he could not look at them together without wondering whether his lover was truly over his first great love. Indeed, he feared all over again that Veare was and always would be Keosqe’s one great love. And if that were the case, where did that leave Tristen?

Keosqe happened to look up and spotted him before he could school his expression. At first, the noble regarded him with a questioning lift of his eyebrows. Tristen rolled his eyes and looked from Keosqe to his brother pointedly. Keosqe stared at him in surprise and then glanced down at Veare’s head upon his shoulder. He met Tristen’s gaze once more.

To Tristen’s chagrin, he suddenly grinned and his eyes actually sparkled. Scowling, Tristen turned on his heel and hurried out of the parlor.
Damn the bastard!
He appeared to actually enjoy Tristen’s displeasure. He irately stalked up and down the hallway outside, unsure what to do or where to go. At length, he stopped his restless pacing, ran down the stairs and headed for the side door. Perhaps a turn or two in the garden would help him cool his temper.

Keosqe caught up with him as he exited the house and stepped onto the stone pathway that cut across the garden to the small pavilion in the corner of the surrounding wall. Tristen tried to shake off his hold on his elbow but Keosqe’s smile only widened and his slid his hand down Tristen’s arm to take his hand in a firm grip, weaving their fingers together caressingly.

Tristen glanced at him witheringly but led the way to the pavilion. He refused to look at Keosqe again, however, once they entered the structure. The heat in his cheeks told him he was flushed and he did not want Keosqe to get the wrong idea. As usual, Keosqe noticed and came to his own conclusions anyway.

“Surely you know I was merely being a good friend to him,” he murmured, leaning in so close his breath feathered Tristen’s ear.

Tristen could not help a faint shiver and he tried to pull away. Keosqe drew him back against him and wove his arms around his shoulders.

“There’s no call to be jealous. I’ve given my heart anew and it isn’t to him.”

“Tell that to Veare,” Tristen muttered. “He believes he comes first with you to this day. And you encourage it by treating him thusly.”

“Only because he doesn’t know about us,” Keosqe pointed out. “Perhaps if we told him…”

“Nay!” Tristen glanced over his shoulder in alarm at Keosqe. “You mustn’t!”