Cross Purposes (Chronicles of Ylandre, Book 5) (26 page)

Without thinking, Keosqe caught him by the arm. He looked Tristen over with concern. The youth was soaked to the bone and beginning to shiver from it.

“You’ll only sicken,” he quietly said. “Come inside.”

Tristen shook his head. “Better that I go home. It looks like it will rain all night.”

“Then stay for the night.”

“But I’m not welcome here.” Tristen’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Not anymore.”

“Tristen…” Keosqe blew his breath out. “I won’t have you catching your death. You’re staying over if the rain doesn’t let up. One night away from your apartment will do no harm. Now come inside and have a hot bath. You can sleep in your old room.”

He met Tristen’s searching gaze with some difficulty. Those eyes had always mesmerized him with their dark beauty and the guilelessness that had shown in them as well. A pity the latter virtue was no more. Something of his regret must have shown in his face for Tristen’s expression turned forlorn and disappointed.

“It means nothing more; you’re only being kind,” he murmured. After a moment’s hesitation, he lowered his head and nodded. “Thank you for inviting me in,
Dyhar
.”

Keosqe was tempted to sweep the youth into his arms, tell him it was not only kindness that drove him and kiss him until the grief in his features faded away. Reminding himself that giving in to his desire was no way to resolve the problems that had torn them asunder, he silently gestured to Tristen to follow him into the house.

* * * *

I sent Tristen to you in this storm fully aware he would not enter your house in your absence but wait in the rain for you to come home. Such is his state of mind that he would rather endure a soaking than rouse your anger. And knowing you, I was certain you would ask him in, mayhap to stay the night. Rest you, he is strong and hale and will not fall ill from one thorough drenching. And even if he does come down with some ailment, I assure you I can heal him. However, fixing a broken heart is beyond any physician’s skill.

Kes, you must speak with him and do what you can to mend the rift between you. I do not know the details of it, only that you asked him to leave your house. He refuses to say more. Certainly, he hides his distress from me. But he does not always remember to shield and I sense his sorrow then. Suffice to say, his anguish is too much for any Deir to bear.

Whatever the lad has done to offend you so greatly, he clearly repents of it. Indeed, he is like a walking wound, so palpable is his pain. It deeply disturbs those of us who are sensitive to such things. I dismiss him whenever he broods overmuch for he cannot help but affect the patients he tends. Not only is he unable to focus on his tasks, he oftentimes dampens their spirits as well.

If his sin is unforgivable, I cannot press you to take him back. But I entreat you to allow him at the very least to make amends for his wrongdoing. Give him some hope you will not despise him evermore. Otherwise, I see him frittering away his life to wallow in misery and despair. And fie on you if you think I am exaggerating the extent of his grief. I am only relaying what I have seen and I must say I would not wish such pain even on a foe.

Keosqe folded the letter and laid it on the low table before the couch. Eiren’s words deeply troubled him. His cousin was not one for hyperbole. He tended to keep his thoughts to himself, a trait that served him in good stead when he was ministering to a patient, but was less than commendable when it came to his personal relationships. For Eiren to be so forthcoming about Tristen’s recent behavior—indeed, for him to initiate communication with Keosqe about the matter—was cause for worry.

He rubbed his forehead, wondering how to go about the situation. He could not say with finality that Tristen’s betrayal was unforgivable. Time and again, folk deceived or cheated on their loved ones and not a few were pardoned for their transgressions. So forgiveness was not impossible.

But one needed time. Time for the memories to blur and the hurt to diminish to a tolerable degree. It was too soon for him—the memories and pain were still fresh.

There was a knock on the door and he absently bid whoever it was to enter. Tristen stepped into the study hesitantly, his eyes wide in inquiry if he was welcome. Clad only in a long robe Keosqe had lent him, he was a visual treat, but Keosqe firmly tamped down on his surging desire for the youth. Forcing his unchaste thoughts to the back of his mind, he gestured to Tristen to join him on the couch.

Smiling timidly, Tristen walked over. He took care to keep the robe wrapped securely around his body but the skirt parted slightly as he sat down beside Keosqe, exposing his sleek thighs for a brief but enticing moment. Keosqe looked away, silently cursing himself for being so easily affected by a mere glimpse of the youth’s charms.

“I hear you spend more time at the hospital than at the University,” he said in a determined bid to set a convivial tone for the evening.

Tristen nodded. “I only go midweek for two classes. Next term I’ll spend all my time in apprenticeship.”

“That fast. It seems like only yesterday that I introduced you to Eiren.”

“It does seem like time has flown by. Veare wrote that Nimrael is beginning to talk intelligibly. And he’s grown bigger since my last visit too.”

“That is good to hear. How does Veare fare, by the way?”

“Very well if all it takes are new clothes and a refurbished master suite to make one happy.”

Keosqe chuckled. “Still shallow I see. He certainly hasn’t changed. He’s fortunate Narion doesn’t mind.”

“Narion likes the prominence Veare lends him. And it doesn’t harm that he now has access to the higher levels of Sidonan society.”

“I hope he realizes he won’t do as well elsewhere.”

“I think he knows that. Have you noticed? He never accompanies Veare outside of Sidona.”

“I noticed.”

Tristen tilted his head and looked at Keosqe curiously. “Haven’t you been corresponding with Veare?”

Keosqe shook his head. “Not much these past several months. I find we have very little to talk about nowadays.”

“You never had much in common.”

“Either that or we’ve grown apart.”

“Say rather you grew up and Veare didn’t.”

This was muttered and sounded so much like the old Tristen that Keosqe had to smile. “That is a possibility,” he conceded. “A good thing you aren’t like him in that respect.”

Tristen peered at him from under half-lowered lids. Once more, Keosqe had to ward off the yearning to sweep the youth into his arms and have his way with him.

“I take it that pleases you,” Tristen murmured. “Thank Veres for small mercies.” Before Keosqe could form a response, he added with a small smile, “This is rather like it used to be, isn’t it?”

“Meaning?”

“When we used to while away the time in here … reading, talking, exchanging news of the day.”

Keosqe grinned. “Gossiping, arguing, and complaining about nosy relations.”

Tristen snorted. “Or obtuse ones.”

They both laughed. Keosqe could not help looking back in fond remembrance. It had been a most pleasant time when they’d had each other to come home to. He wondered how Tristen now spent his time when he was alone at home. Or did he seek company to stave off the loneliness? He knew he had no right to feel thusly but the idea irked him.

“Do you have friends over?” he found himself asking much to his dismay.

Tristen shook his head and said, “I meet my friends outside. I don’t want to mislead anyone into thinking that I want more than friendly company.” He hesitated then asked in a hushed voice, “And you,
Dyhar
?”

“Only my cousins,” Keosqe replied. “Eiren, Reijir, on occasion Gilmael.”

Tristen nodded. “I’m glad you have them. I hate to think you’d returned to the way you used to be.”

“The way I used to be?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend…”

“You didn’t. Now what did you mean?”

Tristen flushed. “Only that I noticed you rarely had people over. You preferred to meet them elsewhere. And even when folk did visit, you’d always invite them to go out. I don’t ever recall you entertaining at home for any length of time.” He shrugged. “I confess it puzzled me when you offered to throw me a dinner party for my thirtieth begetting day. It was so unlike you.”

Keosqe considered the point. “I wasn’t always like that,” he said. “I avoided having people over after my blunder with Avasel.” He sighed. “I’d only ever bedded him at his house or else we’d take a room at an inn. So the one time I brought him here, he thought I felt as he did. He mistook a drunken choice for an avowal of preference for him over others. He proposed to me the following day.”

“Why did he put so much stock in that one night?”

“Because I wasn’t known to bring partners home. If you recall, even your brother came to me; I didn’t ask him into my bed. I fear I never quite mastered the art of getting people to leave in the morning without hurting their feelings.” Keosqe smiled humorlessly. “It may shock you, but I don’t know how to be a proper cad.”

“Why would you want to be?” Tristen asked. “It’s a reputation I wouldn’t want to be saddled with. And I don’t think you deserved it despite your many affairs.” He frowned. “It’s strange but even when I took you for a libertine, I felt I could trust you. Now I know why. It’s because you don’t seduce people for sport.”

His cheeks colored deeply as soon as he finished speaking. Keosqe felt his own face warm up. Tristen’s words reminded him of their affair and how many an evening had started with conversation in this very room followed by torrid unions on the couch, the rug before the fireplace, or in his quarters next door.

*

Remembering Argil’s counsel, Tristen took his courage in hand and shoved his pride aside. After an awkward pause, he murmured, “I’m so sorry,
Dyhar
. I shouldn’t have lied to you. I shouldn’t have kept what I was doing from you or who I was with. I was just so worried you’d order me to stay away from my friends and no longer allow me to keep company with them that I … But that’s no good reason to deceive you. There’s no excusing what I did.”

He nervously plucked at his robe, wondering how Keosqe would respond. To his surprise, the noble said, “I owe you an apology too. I tried to keep you to myself. Out of fear, I’m ashamed to admit. I didn’t want to bear through heartbreak once more—it seems I’m not so strong after all. But you’re at an age when you should be expanding your horizons. Making new acquaintances. Discovering what you really want. And on top of that, I expected you to obey me without comment. So your resentment was not unwarranted. Mind you, I don’t accept any of it as an excuse for deceit, but I can see how my prohibitions influenced your actions.”

Heartened by the unexpected apology, Tristen gazed at him hopefully. “Dare I ask for another chance then? I swear I won’t hide anything from you ever again.”

But Keosqe shook his head and his expression became pained. “Don’t ask that of me just yet,” he somberly said. “I can’t … I tried to forget but I just can’t. I keep seeing you with him. Even in my dreams—nightmares, really—it isn’t me in bed with you. It’s him. And I just stand there and watch and I’m helpless to stop the both of you.”

Tristen felt wretched all over again for causing his lover so much grief. He reached over and tentatively touched Keosqe’s hand.

“You’re mistaken about Mirdan and me,” he said, his voice shaking. “What we did … we didn’t go further than … than touch each other.” He broke off upon seeing Keosqe’s grimace and then stumbled on with his confession. “He challenged me one day—he said I should sleep with him so I could compare… I finally agreed that night and we … but it … it felt wrong. I didn’t want him that way. I told him I couldn’t go through with it.”

He heaved a deep breath, his apprehensive gaze lifting to meet Keosqe’s. “I didn’t sleep with him,
Dyhar
,” he whispered. “That time I turned you down, I hadn’t been with him. But I was angry that you’d expected me to—that is, after you’d been gone several nights without telling me why. I just … just wanted to assert myself … make you realize you couldn’t demand that I—” Tristen stopped short and flushed. He was only making things worse. At length, he hesitantly asked, “Could—could this change how you feel about—about me?”

Keosqe was silent for several minutes though he did not break their locked stares. Finally, he let out a muted exhalation. Not quite a sigh; more a release of tension.

He said, “It gladdens me you cared enough to consider certain things off limits to anyone else.”

His noncommittal tone prompted Tristen’s hopefulness to fade and be replaced by renewed uncertainty. “But…?” he prodded.

Keosqe pursed his mouth. “It doesn’t change the fact that you lied and broke faith with me. Infidelity isn’t simply sleeping with someone else. The moment you decided to share parts of yourself with someone else, parts I thought were exclusive to me—and I don’t just mean body parts—that was faithlessness.”

Tristen bit his lower lip to keep it from quivering. “I’m really sorry,” he repeated. “I won’t ever do it again. Please believe me.”

“I want to believe you. But I can’t.” Keosqe shook his head. “I loved you so much and you proved to me why I shouldn’t have.”

Loved
? Tristen fought back a surge of fear that all was lost. He said in a hushed voice, “Don’t you love me anymore?”

Keosqe sighed. “I’d rather not feel anything at the moment,” he quietly said.

Tristen stared at him, stricken. “You don’t want me,” he whispered. “Not anymore. Oh Veres, I—”

With a shudder, he stared past Keosqe unseeingly.

*

Keosqe studied him with concern. Tristen’s eyes had gone blank. Almost as if the youth had withdrawn into himself. Or fled the shell of his body.

“Tristen?”

He reached out and shook the youth’s shoulder slightly. But Tristen’s eyes remained unfocused, devoid of feeling or thought save for the brightness that glistened in them.

Keosqe caught his breath in consternation when the youth began to shake visibly. And then Tristen broke. His shoulders heaved and harsh sobs tumbled from his lips. Tears streaming down his cheeks, he lurched to his feet and half-stumbled his way to the door.