Cross Purposes (Chronicles of Ylandre, Book 5) (35 page)

Tristen lifted his head and stared at Keosqe. “Were you?”

Keosqe shrugged. “Had I not met you twice beforehand, who knows?” he honestly replied. “He was very convincing. If you hadn’t already told me that you loved me, that you wanted to come back to me, I might have believed him. As I said he’s a very good actor. But I
had
met you previously and what he claimed contradicted everything you’d said to me. I admit it confused me. I wondered if you’d changed your mind about us.”

“Is that why you let him kiss you?” Tristen asked, struggling to hide the hurt.

“Nay, that happened because I was trying to make sense of the whole situation,” Keosqe dryly said. “Accepting his overtures was a good a way to stall for time.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Get my bearings. Find out what it was that was nagging at me.”

“You had him followed right after. You suspected him then?”

“Yes. And my suspicions were reinforced when you burst in on us and quarreled with him over me.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“That confirmed he’d lied about your intentions regarding me. If he’d lied about that, then what else had he lied about? And furthermore, why did he lie in the first place? Of course, it could have been little more than a creative albeit harebrained scheme to bring our affair to an end. No harm in finding out. But if it was something of more consequence, well, I had to know.”

“But if your people were keeping an eye on him, why did you come to me?”

“He’s clever, Mirdan is. He suspected he was being watched and managed to elude them. It’s also then he decided to leave Rikara forthwith. But we caught up to him while he was still packing. I dare say he wasn’t sure if your visit was truly innocent, but he took measures to hide the evidence just in case. He slipped the packet under his cloak before he opened the door. He was fairly confident we wouldn’t think of checking his cloak and he had reason to be. Had he not folded the damn thing, he would have got away with none of us the wiser save for our suspicions.”

Tristen clutched the top of his head with both hands. He closed his eyes and blew his breath out. “And I brought him into contact with you. Oh Veres, what an idiot I was.” Opening his eyes, he swallowed hard. “Looking back now, I realize he was always asking questions about you. What you saw in me, where you were or who you were with, your schedules and the like. I thought he was just encouraging me to vent my feelings to him.” He looked shamefacedly at Keosqe. “But truth is, he just wanted me to confide in him so he could probe me for anything I might know about the Tenerith situation. Am I right?”

Keosqe nodded. “One reason I kept sensitive information from you was the possibility of you inadvertently sharing it with your friends. You might have resolved to keep such matters a secret, but a skillful questioner could have got you to reveal more than you realized.”

“So, do the separatists have time?”

“Nay, my cousin Ranael Mesare departs four days hence for Tenerith with the vanguard of our forces. Zykriel Calanthe and Dylen Essendri will join him with more regiments from Losshen and Vireshe.”

Tristen frowned. Vireshe and Losshen’s locations—to the south and east of Tenerith respectively—made them the closest major fiefs to the front. Vireshe was a royal fief, bestowed on the current crown prince and held in trust for him until he reached his majority. Therefore, it was logical that Vireshe would participate in this campaign. And since Rohyr’s son Vyren was barely out of infancy, it was logical for Rohyr to call upon his half-brother Dylen to take charge of the Vireshin forces. Furthermore, Dylen held numerous properties in the fief and thus had a personal stake in the outcome of the oncoming conflict.

Likewise, the Calanthe fief was near enough to Tenerith to be adversely affected should the province fall to the rebels. For that reason alone, they would readily lend their forces to the cause. He was surprised, however, that it was Gilmael’s scholarly twin who would lead the Loshenni troops.

“Why Lord Zykriel?”

“He’s the heir apparent. He commands Losshen’s forces in his sire’s stead now that the Herun is no longer young or hale.”

“I see. Well, what about Lord Gilmael? Will he join his brother?”

“He’s coming with Rohyr and me. We’ll follow the day after with the remaining troops.”

“You’re going to Tenerith?” Tristen said in alarm.

“As is my duty.” Keosqe smiled a little. “You needn’t worry. This won’t be my first campaign.”

“First, fiftieth, the hundredth, I’ll still worry,” Tristen insisted.

Keosqe’s smile widened. “Thank you,” he murmured. Before Tristen could speak, he said, “Thank the Maker we stopped Mirdan from getting back to Jubal. Now all they have is the disinformation we sowed in Tenerith.”

Distracted from his anxiety, Tristen frowned and looked at Keosqe again. “By the way, why did you go through the trouble of searching him when you could have just probed his mind for the information? I thought you were gifted enough to do that.”

“I am. But he was shielding heavily and for that I’m not sufficiently trained.” At Tristen’s start of surprise, Keosqe said, “That’s right, he’s a True Blood masquerading as a
sedyr
. Had I attempted to break through his shields—well, you know what an unschooled breaching of rigid shields can do to a Deir’s mind. I’d rather not reduce anyone to a gibbering idiot unless it’s the only option left to me.”

Tristen nodded. “I think that’s what made me fall in love with you,” he softly said. “Despite the unseemly hastiness of your pursuit, I sensed your nobility from the start.” He averted his gaze once more. “Would that I had been more upfront with you. I wouldn’t have lost you. I’d still be worthy of you.”

His voice roughened on the last words whereupon he jerked to his feet and said, “I must be more tired than I thought. Good night,
Dyhar
.”

“Tris, wait.”

Tristen stopped and warily looked over his shoulder at Keosqe who motioned to him to approach.

“We can’t go on like this,” Keosqe said when Tristen came to stand before him. “You walk on eggshells around me and wait on my decisions before making your own. It isn’t healthy for either of us.” He lifted his hands to cup Tristen’s face. “We must end this.”

Tristen thought his heart would shatter into pieces and sink right down to the soles of his feet. He swallowed hard, suddenly finding it difficult to take in a deep breath. Feeling the imminent flow of tears, he looked away, blinking hard to keep them from falling.

“I-I tried so hard to do as you wanted,” he gasped as his voice threatened to break. “What else do I need to do?” He looked at Keosqe again, his pride all but shredded to bits. “Please tell me and I’ll—”

Keosqe shook his head and placed two fingers on Tristen’s lips to silence him. “That’s just it. I don’t want you to continue deferring to me in just about everything. You are your own person.”

“But I don’t want to displease you again.”

“Behaving thusly
is
displeasing to me.”

Tristen looked at Keosqe, stricken and confused. “I don’t understand—”

“I want you to be yourself.”

Keosqe let go of him and reached into his jerkin. Tristen’s eyes widened when he brought forth the silver and leather wristlet with the heartsfire clasp. He had not worn it since he accepted it back from Tristen.

Tristen caught his breath in dismay when Keosqe reached for his hand and placed the wristlet in his palm.

“Why—?”

“I want you to take this—” Keosqe started to say.

Tristen would have pulled away had Keosqe not been holding his hand. “Nay!” he cried. “I gave this to you. Please don’t—”

Once more Keosqe pressed his fingers against Tristen’s lips.

“And put it on me,” he softly ordered.

Tristen stared agape at him for several seconds. After several frantic heartbeats, he wordlessly took the wristlet and enclosed it around Keosqe’s left wrist, his hand shaking so hard it took him awhile to fasten the clasp properly.

Hardly had he finished when Keosqe grasped the back of his head and drew him in for a scorching kiss. He gasped and then moaned as the rest of his body was pulled in between Keosqe’s legs to press flush against his hard frame. He flung his arms almost desperately around Keosqe’s shoulders, holding on as if his lover would disappear if he loosened his embrace one bit.

Not that it was likely to happen. Not when he could feel that familiar, wonderful hardness pressing against his groin.

Keosqe released his mouth only to spread kisses along his jaw and down his throat. Tristen trembled under the onslaught, rejoicing that Keosqe saw fit to inflict it on him once more.

“Why did you say you wanted to end our affair?” he moaned as Keosqe licked the hollow at the base of his throat.

“Not our affair,” Keosqe said, nibbling his way up Tristen’s throat to his chin. “Only the way we were behaving with each other.” He caught Tristen’s face between his hands. “I love your spirit, Tris. Your independence. Even your damned pride. Don’t try to be someone you’re not.”

“Only if you take me back and promise to never let me go,” Tristen begged.

Keosqe’s answer was a deep groan that instantly stoked Tristen’s flaring lust into a conflagration. He all but melted into Keosqe as his lover sealed their lips together in a devouring kiss, virtually plundering his mouth.

Tristen mewled in protest when Keosqe broke their kiss, but the noble lifted him in his arms and bore him to the thick rug before the hearth. Tristen curled his legs around Keosqe’s waist, thrilling to the covetous wrap of his lover’s arms about him. He almost laughed in joy when he glanced at the door and saw it was already bolted. Keosqe had apparently locked it earlier in anticipation of a need for privacy.

As Keosqe lowered him onto the rug, Tristen nuzzled his throat and then eagerly sucked on the smooth flesh. Whereupon Keosqe roughly pressed him down, trapping Tristen beneath him, and engaged him in a spate of breath-stealing, hot-tongued kisses.

They nearly tore each other’s clothes off, uncaring if buttons popped off or seams came apart. The moment they were both bared to the skin, they molded their bodies together, mouths clinging, hands clutching and legs tangling. Tristen moaned as their chests and groins pressed together, the heat of contact and the slide of their shafts against the other sorely missed in the months of their estrangement.

How he had even entertained the thought that he could live without Keosqe’s loving he would never know. Nor did he care now that he was back in his lover’s arms.

He gasped when his thighs were shoved apart as wide as they would go. This was no slow seduction but rather his willing ravishment. When Keosqe simply closed his mouth around his shaft, Tristen nearly screamed. Was this what abstention did to a Deir? He clutched frantically at Keosqe’s shoulders as he was hungrily drawn into the wet warmth of his lover’s mouth.

“Wait! Wait!” he pleaded. “Let me pleasure you too.”

Keosqe ceased his maddening caresses long enough to say, “There’s no need if you only wish to make me hard enough to take you.” His eyes sparkled with humor as he added, “I assure you I’m more than ready to ride you ragged,
ariad
.”

Tristen savored the endearment but refused to be distracted. “I know you are,” he huskily said. “But I’ve missed the pleasure of your taste. The feeling of your shaft hot and hard in my mouth.”

He smiled entreatingly and had the satisfaction of seeing Keosqe’s eyes glitter with deeper lust. Keosqe allowed him to slide out from under him and shift around. Tristen promptly pressed his face into his groin, happily nuzzling the pale gold curls and the hard column of flesh that jutted from their midst. He heard Keosqe groan and then yelped when his lover retaliated by taking him in nigh to the root. Not to be outdone, Tristen plied his mouth and tongue on Keosqe’s shaft, already anticipating the wonderful friction of its slide into his body.

The sweet tang of emerging semen spurred him to suck harder on the tumescent flesh, eager to taste more of the milky fluid. But it appeared Keosqe had other plans for he uttered a loud curse, grabbed Tristen by one arm and hauled him back beneath him, insinuating his hips between Tristen’s thighs. He snatched up a bottle of oil from under the pile of skins beside the rug, further evidence that he had intended their lovemaking all along. Tristen flashed a brilliant smile at his lover and was rewarded with a knowing, slightly amused smirk.

After Keosqe slathered his shaft with oil he tossed the bottle aside. He bent over and pressed his groin against the youth’s buttocks. His shaft prodded the entrance to Tristen’s arse.

“I can’t wait any longer,” he said, his tone both harsh and apologetic.

Tristen responded by pulling his legs back against his chest and spreading them apart to make it easy for Keosqe to penetrate him.

“Neither can I,” he whispered.

It burned when Keosqe entered him. Though Keosqe had lavishly oiled his shaft, three months was enough time for Tristen’s arse to forget how it felt to accommodate his lover’s enviable length and girth. He could not help wincing a little as he was steadily filled.

“Shall I stop?” Keosqe murmured, concern warming his voice.

Tristen curled his legs around Keosqe’s waist. “Nay!” he breathed. “Have me,
Dyhar
. Please.”

“Be done with the formalities,” Keosqe ordered. “You know you can call me by name.” He leaned down and kissed him hard. “You’re mine, Tris,” he all but growled against his lips. “Never forget that.”

Tristen could have wept at the possessiveness of the statement.

“I won’t,” he vowed a little tearfully. “I love you so much, Kes.”

Keosqe did not give him time to indulge in his maudlin thoughts and he was soon gasping wildly with each hard thrust. Oh yes, there was pain. But as Keosqe sank repeatedly into him, the pleasure grew and the pain receded until it was overshadowed by the ecstasy of their bodies’ union.

Tears of joy and gratitude streamed down his cheeks while incoherent sounds escaped his lips. Gone was his reluctance to express his enjoyment of coupling with Keosqe. Banished too was his need to preserve control over his body’s reactions and the resultant fear and resentment when he failed. He reveled in every pounding thrust into him, lifting his hips to enable his lover to breach him as thoroughly as possible.