Hallowed Bond (Chronicles of Ylandre Book 2) (18 page)

Gilmael pursed his lips sheepishly. “It won’t be a secret much longer,” he reasoned.

“Everyone will know the truth after tomorrow.”

Meanwhile, Riodan found his tongue. “It’s a great a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Your Highness,” he said.

Dylen dipped his chin in acknowledgement. “Your Grace will do. I am only the late Ardis’ son and a mere by-blow at that.”

“Neither only nor mere,” Jareth mildly objected. “I do wish you would claim your rightful place, Dy.”

The barest trace of color stained Dylen’s cheeks. Riodan swallowed hard at the sight.

He averted his gaze lest he be affected further by the tempting image before him.

“By tomorrow, I will have no choice,” Dylen replied with a faint smile. He looked apologetically at Gilmael and gestured to him to continue.

“As I was about to say, this is Dylen Teris—well, rightfully Essendri
il
Teris,”

Gilmael said. “He’s my adjutant and also a member of the Ardan’s Council. And tomorrow morn Rohyr will formally recognize him and invest him with the honors and properties due him as the eldest born son of the late Ardis Dyrael. But Jareth is right,” he ruefully conceded. “This must remain a secret until then. Can we trust you to keep this to yourselves?”

“Veres almighty, Dyrael’s son!” Theron whispered. He stared at Dylen, his face a picture of chagrin and anxiety. Riodan could just imagine what his sire was feeling after the way he had once heaped scorn on Dylen. Managing to regain some of his composure, Theron said, “But of course. If that is His Majesty’s wish, we will abide it.”

“Thank you, Your Excellency,” Dylen said. “Now if you will excuse me.”

He courteously bowed his head before walking away.

“Such a fine Deir,” Jareth warmly said as they watched Dylen leave the hall. “Rohyr is very fond of him. And rightly so I must say.” He glanced at Riodan. “By the way, Rohyr requested that you stay for dinner tonight. He would like a full account of how you managed to keep the Teharan royals from each other’s throats as well as yours.”

It was shortly before the evening meal that Riodan came upon Dylen once more. The former companion was by himself at one end of the open gallery in the west wing—the gallery ran parallel to the hallway that led to the dining hall. He was gazing out at the west district, which was barely discernible in the rapidly failing light. Stopping a short distance away, Riodan studied him, taken all over again by the Deir’s sensual beauty. But he was also troubled by his melancholic expression. He wondered what thoughts darkened Dylen’s mood as he stared at his former home.

The latter suddenly turned his head and looked at him as if he expected to see him standing there. Caught, Riodan decided to approach the Deir who had taught him everything about intimacy of the body and spirit.

Dylen greeted him cordially enough, but Riodan sensed a distinct lack of warmth in his manner. He stifled a sigh and tried to break the ice by asking about recent events in the capital. Dylen obliged him even though he must have known Riodan would have already garnered the information earlier. Almost inevitably, their conversation touched on the shroud of mystery surrounding Dylen.

“However did you manage to keep word of your presence here from getting around?” Riodan asked.

“Of what significance would an obscure courtier be outside of Rikara?” Dylen said.

“Even if someone thought it worth mentioning to you that Rohyr had taken in a
hethar
, I think you would have regarded the news as mere gossip—interesting but not important.”

“But why withhold the truth at all?”

“I wanted to remain anonymous until I felt comfortable with all the changes my life has undergone. Especially this whole business of being an Ardan’s brother.”

“But, after tomorrow, you’ll be news not only in Ylandre but also abroad,” Riodan said. “And you’ll be treated as a member of the royal family. Are you ready to take your place now?”

“Can any outsider ever truly be ready for such a thing?” Dylen wryly asked.

“Surely you don’t feel yourself an outsider any longer,” Riodan objected. “You’ve been accepted by the Essendris, and thus far, all speak highly of you.”

“Not all. And one doesn’t necessarily cease to feel different just because of a change in one’s circumstances,” Dylen countered.

“I’m sorry, I meant no offense,” Riodan hastily apologized.

“None taken,” Dylen blandly replied.

Riodan flushed, mildly abashed by Dylen’s distant courtesy. “By the way, how is your
adda
?” he asked after an awkward silence.

“Alive,” Dylen curtly answered.

Riodan hesitated, unsure how to proceed. “I trust he is well?”

“If no longer having the use of his legs counts as being well.”

That took Riodan aback. “I see,” he murmured. “But he was cured? Of blight, I mean.”

“Eiren saved him.”

“So you found a way to get him back to Rikara,” Riodan said with relief.

Dylen shook his head. “Not so much found a way as had the good fortune of a chance encounter with Rohyr.”

“And he recalled Eiren.”

“Yes,” Dylen said, affection and reverence in his eyes. “And owned me his brother as well.”

Riodan smiled. “I’m glad he found you. Mayhap someday you’ll tell me the whole story of how you met.”

Dylen turned a cool gaze on him. “It needn’t be me. Gilmael was present. So was Lassen. They can recount it to you.”

“But of course,” Riodan quickly agreed. He fell silent for a space as he searched for a less contentious topic to talk about.

“I hope you enjoyed your posting in Tehara, all the problems and intrigues notwithstanding,” Dylen unexpectedly said.

The gracious opening gave Riodan cause to hope that perhaps Dylen would not hold the past against him overmuch. Whether Dylen was being civil in order to preempt the speculations of curious passersby he avoided dwelling on.

“I did enjoy it,” he replied. “The Teharans are warm and friendly at heart. It’s only their rulers who don’t seem to know how to maintain peace amongst themselves. It’s probably for lack of a sense of humor. They take offense so easily, even the king himself.

And his consort and brothers are even more sensitive than he.”

“You must have had to walk on eggshells each time you were in their presence.”

“Indeed. But as I’ve come home quite whole, I think I managed to do my duty adequately.”

“More than adequately,” Dylen averred. “Jareth has done naught but sing your praises to Rohyr.”

That brought a blush to Riodan’s cheeks. “That’s very kind of him,” he said. “I only hope I truly deserve his accolades.”

Dylen faintly smiled. “Well, I believe you do.”

Riodan’s blush deepened. “Thank you,” he almost stammered. “That means so much to me.”

Another silence fell but a more comfortable one, or so Riodan thought. Emboldened by Dylen’s unlooked-for civility, he attempted conversation once more.

“You’ve changed,” he assayed. “Not physically, though you look better than ever if that’s possible. There’s just something about you that wasn’t there before.”

Dylen shrugged. “Perhaps it’s because I no longer peddle my services.” Before Riodan could protest the disparaging comment, he added, “You’ve changed as well. Not so much from when I last saw you, but certainly a great degree from when we parted ways.”

Riodan laughed nervously. “For the better I hope.”

“Well, you were already beautiful when we first met,” Dylen pointed out. “It was only to be expected that you would grow more comely as you fully matured.”

His heart starting to soar at the compliment, Riodan beamed at Dylen. “Thank you.

But I’m no match for you. I confess, when you came to our house that day, it was all I could do not to throw myself at you. You were breathtaking even then.”

Almost as soon as the words left his mouth, Riodan knew he had blundered spectacularly. The chilly silence that followed confirmed his fear. He looked cautiously at Dylen, almost holding his breath as he awaited his one-time lover’s response. A smile curved Dylen’s lips. A tight smile that did not reach his eyes. At length, he turned his gaze on Riodan, the coldness in his eyes dashing the diplomat’s hopes of a swift reconciliation between them.

“But you
did
restrain yourself,” Dylen dryly said. “Such control is commendable.

Now, if you will excuse me, Your Excellency.”

Riodan forlornly watched him glide off with the catlike grace so distinctive of him.

Idiot,
he berated himself. What had possessed him to dredge up that lamentable encounter and remind Dylen of his cowardice and perfidy?

Chapter Fifteen

Impasse

C.A. 3009

Riodan did his best to keep his expression neutral. But a fierce scowl was threatening to mar the serene cast of his features. If he had any sense, he would walk away as quickly as he could and not burden himself with the sight of Dylen in company with one of the Citadel courtiers. But, try as he might, he could not leave. Not when he feared capitulation on Dylen’s part to the obviously non-platonic overtures of his companion.

Sereth was a good match for anyone. That much Riodan had to admit, albeit grudgingly. The courtier was pleasant looking, well-born and possessed enough savvy and ambition to have come so far in society. It was that ambition that troubled Riodan, however, for he could not help suspecting part of Sereth’s courtship of Dylen was due to his desire for the rewards that went with being wed to the Ardan’s one and only brother.

That was not something to sniff at even if it meant putting up with the talk that seemed to accompany Dylen now that the truth of his identity was out.

As expected, the news had rocked the upper echelons of Ylandrin society. Rikara alone was abuzz with the discovery for months after and not always in a positive way.

Riodan could only imagine what was said of Dylen elsewhere, especially in more conservative circles and particularly with regards to his illegitimacy. Even now, he knew that Dylen was still treated unevenly by some—utmost friendliness and ingratiation to his face, wariness and grudging deference behind his back. And overshadowing it all was interest in how his kinship to Rohyr could be used to advantage. Small wonder Riodan harbored suspicions about Sereth’s motives.

He shook his head. Who was he to judge the other? One could say he was doing much the same thing in his efforts to rekindle his friendship with Dylen. He sighed and began to turn away to cross the street. He would have a harder time finding out which tea-room Guyon had entered if he lingered any longer. On the heels of that thought came the feeling that he would not mind failing to catch up with his fiancé in the least. It was not the first time for him to feel thusly, and he suspected it would not be the last. And he had begun experiencing it with a frequency that boded ill for any betrothal.

Movement to his right caught his eye, and he turned his head in time to see a Deir in a wheeled chair emerge from the draper’s shop at the other end of the street. Riodan’s eyes lit up while his stomach did a little flip-flop of apprehension at the same time. He hurried to the Deir, catching up with him before he made the turn around the corner.

“Teris-
dyhar
!” he called out.

Hirlen Teris looked back over his shoulder and, upon espying Riodan, broke into a warm smile. “Good day, Rio! When did you arrive from Qatare?”

Riodan let out a breath of relief as he neared the retired
hethar
. It seemed Dylen still had not told his father the full story of their falling-out.

“Just two days ago. The timing of His Majesty’s summons left something to be

desired however,” he ruefully said. “It came just as Qatare’s crown prince ordered me to broker a marriage between him and Rohyr. Why he thought Rohyr would desire wedlock with a Deir barely out of diapers I can’t fathom though.”

Hirlen burst out laughing. “Presumptuous of him, isn’t it?” he remarked. “What did Rohyr say to that?”

“Well, he left it to Lassen to make a response. Unfortunately, I can never let the prince know what Lassen said. It would burn his ears right off his head!” Riodan waited for Hirlen’s mirth to subside. “You certainly get around,
Dyhar
,” he lightly teased.

Hirlen beamed. “This marvelous contraption makes it possible,” he said, fondly patting the armrest of his chair.

“But where is Tarqin?” Riodan asked, looking around for the elderly servant. “Surely you’re not alone.”

“Oh, I’m never alone,” Hirlen corrected, a slight tilt of his head indicating his and Dylen’s guard escort waiting discreetly nearby. “Tarqin is visiting with some friends lately come from Fenycia. Dylen is taking care of me in the meantime.”

Riodan could not stop himself from fishing for information. “But I saw him with someone just now,” he casually stated. “I thought they were out together.”

“Oh, do you mean Sereth?” Hirlen shook his head. “They met on the street. I had business at the draper’s shop so I told Dylen to go ahead and entertain his friend. Rest assured, Rio-
min
, they were
not
out together.”

The warmth in his cheeks told Riodan he was blushing, as did Hirlen’s knowing smile. But, before he could say more, Dylen suddenly arrived. He briefly nodded at Riodan then laid an affectionate gaze on his father.

“Gossip for tea,
Adda
?” he lightly inquired.

“Nay, but I would indulge in some if there were any scandals worth talking about,”

Hirlen cheerfully replied. “Where is Sereth?”

Dylen shrugged. “He’s returned to the Citadel.” He looked at Riodan again. “Lost your intended, Rio?”

Riodan managed not to wince. “Nay, he’s in one of the tea-rooms across the street,”

he replied.

He was aware that Dylen was waiting for him to take his leave. But he could not bring himself to cut short a close encounter with his former lover. And so he made no move to excuse himself.

Dylen shook his head and, taking hold of the handgrips at the back of his father’s chair, asked Hirlen, “Where to next,
Adda
?”

“I’m only going to the tailor’s shop two doors down,” Hirlen replied. “I ordered a new court tunic,” he informed Riodan, his eyes sparkling. “I’m not about to appear in some shabby old thing at Rohyr’s nuptials! Now do let go, Dy,” he said, waving his son away. “I don’t want to be late for my fitting.”