Cross Purposes (Chronicles of Ylandre, Book 5) (29 page)

He smiled, not bothering to hide all the affection that brightened it. Keosqe smiled back faintly. Tristen rejoined his friends, his heart a shade lighter just from being able to see and talk to his lover however briefly.

As he sat down, he glanced at Keosqe and noted the noble was observing him without appearing to do so. Tristen took a deep breath and moved his chair just a bit farther from Mirdan’s. They still sat beside each other, but the increased distance made it awkward for Mirdan to sling his arm across the back of Tristen’s chair.

Keosqe obviously recognized the statement he’d made. He slightly raised his cup in acknowledgement before standing up and heading for the door. Tristen followed him hungrily with his gaze. It might be a while before he saw him again.

Just as he reached the door, Keosqe looked back and they locked gazes. Tristen took the chance to mouth three words to him. Keosqe nodded before walking out the door.

* * * *

Eiren’s advice from a few days ago returned to haunt Keosqe’s thoughts all the way back to his office at the Ministry of Internal Affairs. Indeed, his cousin’s counsel occupied his mind almost as much as Tristen’s renewed avowal of devotion.

As a result, he spent the rest of the afternoon and most of the following morning in restless pacing and deep contemplation. By midday, he’d wrestled his unruly feelings into some semblance of order, but the struggle left his stomach just this side of upset.

Coming to a decision, he had his largely uneaten meal removed, ordered his adjutant to turn away all visitors save for the Ardan himself and sat down at his desk to put quill to paper. However, it was no official missive he wrote or a draft of the latest report he planned to send to the Citadel.

When he was done, he folded the single sheet of parchment and inserted it into a thick envelope, which he sealed with melted wax. As he was about to stamp his personal insignia onto the envelope, he wondered if it would look too officious. But the security of the document was more important than any misperceptions about its appearance. He needed to ensure only one set of eyes would see the contents. And so without further ado, he pressed his signet ring into the still soft wax.

He summoned his adjutant and bade him to have the letter delivered. And then he leaned back and waited for whatever results the letter would yield.

If Tristen truly loved him, he would do as Keosqe requested and as quickly as possible. If he did not, Keosqe would be clearer about the youth’s real sentiments. And painful though it would be were it the latter, he preferred to know once and for all where he stood and what that could possibly bode for his heart and his future.

Chapter 19

Faceoff

Whatever surprises Tristen might have expected for the day, it was not the appearance of a messenger from the Ministry of Internal affairs at the medical college. Even more unexpected was the letter he delivered, Tristen’s name written on the envelope in Keosqe’s distinctive script. The Deir duly informed him that Lord Keosqe expected an answer within the day. Whereupon he departed, leaving Tristen all agog.

Tristen opened the envelope with shaking hands and a thundering heart. He pulled out the letter and unfolded it. The message was very short and to the point, only taking up the middle of the sheet. But what it said more than made up for its brevity.

I have thought of our situation over and again and I have come to realize that we cannot solve this separately. We need to come to an understanding together. Verily, we should have done this long ago. Perhaps we would not have come to this pass and our relationship would still flourish. Or we may not have started one at all. I’ve learned to accept this possibility however remote it seems. Therefore, please come to my office this afternoon so that we may talk without fear of interruptions or misperceptions. I urge you to meet with me. We should settle the matter once and for all.

Settle the matter? Tristen read the letter twice more, trying to comprehend what Keosqe meant. Merciful Veres, was he opening the door to reconciliation or looking for a graceful way to close and lock it and throw away the key? Tristen shook his head in denial of this last notion. It was ridiculous for Keosqe to ask him to meet with him only to inform him that they were through.
Wasn’t it?

“Well, well, what have we here? A love letter?”

Tristen whirled around and found Mirdan smirking at him. His friend looked more handsome than he remembered but, strangely enough, Tristen felt none of the attraction that had almost tempted him into a one-night tumble with him. Did remorse dull one’s taste for the illicit?

“What are you doing here? I thought you were bogged down with work.”

“I was allowed to leave early.”

“Again? But didn’t you get off early yesterday as well?”

“Nay, I was running an errand for my employer when I saw you entering the tea-room. I just took a little time off which, after working my arse off with nary a day’s break this past month, I thought I was entitled to.” He eyed the parchment in Tristen’s hand. “So, has the situation between you thawed enough for an exchange of letters?”

“We aren’t back together nor have we been exchanging letters.” Tristen waved the missive excitedly. “But he may be softening, Mir! He asked me to go to his office this afternoon. He says he wants us to talk. Saints above, this may be my way back into his good graces. I pray it is!”

“Congratulations then.” Mirdan frowned. “But aren’t you supposed to report to Eiren Sarvan about now?”

Tristen’s smile quickly faded. “I forgot about that!” he exclaimed. A moment later, he looked at Mirdan wonderingly. “How did you know about my schedule?”

“You gave it to me yesterday, lackwit.”

“I did?” Tristen shook his head at his apparent absent-mindedness. “Well, plague take it all, what am I to do? Keosqe will be expecting me. Maybe … maybe I can ask him if we can meet another day. Tomorrow perhaps? But if I go to him first, I’ll be late getting to the hospital. And I’m supposed to assist Master Sarvan at surgery too. It’s my first time to do so. Oh Veres, he’ll be angry if he’s forced to delay the procedure on my account. He doesn’t abide tardiness for any reason save death itself. Ah, he’ll give me an earful if I arrive past the scheduled time.”

“Surely a scolding can’t be that bad.”

“Ha! You haven’t yet been the subject of one of his.” Tristen grimaced. “I have no stomach for it. He’s much respected, nay, revered by his peers and certainly amongst the apprentices. So everyone takes his words to heart, both praise and censure.” He huffed in frustration. “Still, this is my chance to set things right with Keosqe. I suppose I can bear through one scolding however blistering it may be.”

“Poor Tris,” Mirdan said sympathetically. “Look here, it’s partly my fault that you and Lord Keosqe had your falling-out. Oh, yes, I own my role and I apologize for it. But let me make amends now. I won’t have you embarrassed in front of your fellows especially when you’re so obviously the best of the lot. Let’s not give them reason to take you down a peg, I say. So here’s what we’ll do. You go to the hospital and I’ll go to Lord Keosqe and explain your predicament. I’ll ask him to reset your meeting as well. There, does that please you?”

Tristen beamed at him. “You’re a life saver! Thank you! Thank you ever so much!” He refolded the letter and placed it back in its envelope. “Here, take this with you to prove I sent you. His staff won’t let you past the reception foyer otherwise.”

Mirdan took the letter and stuffed it inside his tunic. “Well then, get going or you’ll be late anyway and my effort to spare your arse will be for naught.”

“You’re right, I should go.” Mirdan turned and briskly walked down the path to the gate, calling out his thanks once more over his shoulder. “I’m in your debt, Mir!”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Mirdan shouted back.

Though disappointed that he would not get to see Keosqe, Tristen hurried on with a lighter heart bursting with hope tinged with just a smudge of anxiety.

* * * *

Whatever Keosqe had been expecting of his request to meet with Tristen, it was not to see Mirdan Sivash striding into his office. He half-glared at the
sedyr
as the latter came to him, an ingratiating smile curving his mouth.

“How did you get in here?” he asked as civilly as he could muster.

Mirdan held up the letter. “I told your staff that Tristen sent me in his stead.” He handed the letter over. “In case you don’t believe he and I talked.”

Just short of snatching it away, Keosqe took back the letter. He slipped it into the topmost drawer of his desk, his heart heavy that Tristen had not come after all. Mirdan, on the other hand, was looking around with much appreciation.

“My, but this is nice,” he commented, taking in the heavy redwood furnishings, burnished wall paneling, sand-hued brocade draperies framing the tall mullioned windows behind Keosqe’s massive desk and the portraits of past ministers adorning one wall, a painting of the present Ardan in the place of honor. “Rohyr Essendri is stunning, isn’t he?” Mirdan said as he gazed at the portrait with open admiration. “What I’d give to see him in person. I’m sure that painting doesn’t do him justice in the least.”

“It doesn’t,” Keosqe agreed, trying to be polite. “So what did Tristen ask you to say to me?”

“You don’t waste time at all, do you,
Dyhar
?” Mirdan remarked. “But I imagine you don’t have much time to waste or use. So I shall come to the point and play the dutiful friend.”

He drew a deep breath as if bracing himself for unpleasantness. That alone worried Keosqe and he in turn folded his arms over his chest as if to ward off a blow.

“My lord, I regret to inform you that Tristen doesn’t feel there is anything to talk about,” Mirdan said in a low, almost hushed voice. “He sent me because he hasn’t the courage to tell you in person, that he … doesn’t want you any longer.”

Keosqe stared at him incredulously. “What!”

Mirdan nodded understandingly. “I know, it’s hard to believe. But Tristen only realized it himself lately. I suspect your time apart allowed him to ruminate about your affair and, well, he found it wanting.” He dropped his voice further in the manner of one saying something in confidence. “It grieves me to tell you his true sentiments, kind and comely as you are. But truth be told, he did naught but grouse endlessly about—about you, about your attitude toward him. Saints, even about your bed-manners, my lord!”

That took Keosqe aback. It did not sound right. Indeed, it did not seem possible. Tristen’s behavior had convinced him the youth really repented of his actions though Keosqe still had his doubts regarding the true nature of his relationship with Mirdan. The contradictory impressions swirled around in his mind until he could not think clearly let alone come to a conclusion about Tristen’s dismissive message.

Sparing Mirdan a fierce glower, he walked to the plush couch across the chamber and sat down on it, confusion, ire and anguish building up and mingling into a volatile brew of mixed emotions. He wondered if he had ever truly known Tristen or understood what really went on behind his eyes. He bowed his head, closed his eyes and clapped a hand over his mouth to conceal the treacherous trembling of his lips.

“My lord?”

He opened his eyes and saw Mirdan’s feet before him. He glanced up to ask what the
sedyr
wanted. Before he could speak, Mirdan slipped onto his lap to sit astride his thighs and slid his arms across his shoulders and around his back. Taken thoroughly by surprise, Keosqe could not move but only stared in shock at the Deir.

“What are you—?” he started to say.

He gasped when Mirdan leaned forward and caught his mouth in an expert, unashamedly passionate kiss. He broke away and grasping Mirdan’s arms, started to push the Deir off his lap.

“Get off me!” he growled. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Mirdan refused to budge. “Comforting you, my lord?” he purred.

The sound was surprisingly seductive and practiced. Mirdan was certainly no innocent.

“Comforting me?” Keosqe shook his head. “You’re mad. I repeat, get off me.”

“Nay,” Mirdan said. “I’ve been biding my time,
Dyhar
. Now it’s my turn.” Before Keosqe could respond, Mirdan planted another scalding, libido-rousing kiss on his lips. When Mirdan ended the kiss, he kept their gazes locked, huskily saying, “I envied Tristen his affair with you. It frustrated me that someone as handsome and consummate a lover as you’re reputed to be was wasting his time on a prude who had no intention of returning the love you so very obviously bestowed on him. Indeed, he’s a hard one to teach, don’t you agree? I can’t begin to describe how unsatisfied I was with his performance.”

The implied confirmation of Tristen’s infidelity smote Keosqe to the core. But he set his pain aside and strove to keep his mind unhampered by the sexual and emotional fog Mirdan had managed to wrap him in.

“You’re not much of a friend, are you?” he grimly charged. “You demean him behind his back.”

“I only speak the truth,” Mirdan countered. “I am his friend and he mine, but that doesn’t mean I’m blind to his faults. And the greatest of them is that he didn’t appreciate you,
Dyhar
, and never will. But
I
do. And I would very much like to show you just how much. If you let me, I can help you forget him. I can make you as happy as he did. Maybe more. Let me do this, my lord. Let me pleasure you as you deserve.”

He sealed his lips to Keosqe’s once more, slanting their mouths together in a torrid caress and coaxing Keosqe into a hot-tongued duel. When he acquiesced, Mirdan softly moaned and shifted his body closer so that their chests pressed together and their groins met. Keosqe caught his breath when Mirdan ground his crotch against his, causing sparks of pleasure to emanate from the region.

Willy nilly, his body responded to the Deir’s sensual ministrations. Mirdan Sivash seemed bent on proving his talent to him. And, Veres help him, Keosqe knew he would let him do so if it gained him what he wanted. What he needed to know.