Hallowed Bond (Chronicles of Ylandre Book 2) (19 page)

“But
Adda
—”

“I can manage such a short distance on my own,” Hirlen firmly declared. “Really, you mustn’t coddle me. Eiren said it isn’t good for my health. Stay here and keep Rio company,” he added imperatively. “I shan’t take too long.”

Dylen sighed in resignation as his father set off. He faced Riodan with palpable reluctance. Riodan tried not to let Dylen’s lack of cordiality discourage him.

“It’s kind of you not to tell him about what I did,” he rather diffidently said.

Dylen shrugged. “What would it serve to disillusion him as well?”

The comment stung, but Riodan swallowed it without protest.

“Nonetheless, thank you. I don’t think I could have borne his disappointment.”

“But you certainly can bear mine,” Dylen remarked derisively.

Riodan flinched. “I have no choice,” he softly said. “Much as it pains me each time I feel your disdain anew, there is little else I can do.”

Dylen snorted. “Don’t seek my company then,” he rejoined. “After all, you have
his
to keep you occupied.”

Riodan nearly swore under his breath when Guyon appeared at his side, sliding a proprietary arm around his waist. Dylen gave the gesture a pointed look, nodded at Riodan, and left them without a word. Riodan watched him go in frustration. Guyon, too, stared after Dylen with displeasure, giving Riodan reason to wonder how much he had heard of the conversation.

“He thinks highly of himself,” Guyon said with a huff, thereby providing the answer.

“Just because he is brother to Rohyr, he deems himself above bestowing his pardon on any who’s ever wronged him.”

Riodan pulled away from Guyon in irritation and turned to face him none too patiently. “Dylen is the humblest of Rohyr’s relations,” he protested. “The way he carries himself, one would never guess his position at court.”

“Yet he repeatedly spurns your attempts to befriend him,” Guyon insisted. “Such arrogance considering his origins!”

“You know full well that he has just cause to be aloof with me,” Riodan retorted. “I refused him aid when he most needed it. Indeed, he must think me the worst of opportunists that I should try to make amends for that offense and acknowledge our previous association now that he is a prince of the realm. And he’s right in his thinking,”

Riodan said in a more subdued tone. “I can be brave because an alliance with the Ardan’s brother is the surest way to fulfill all my ambitions.” He shook his head. “He has every reason to be wary of me and keep his distance.”

“And you defend him at every turn,” Guyon accused. “Indeed, you relentlessly pursue his forgiveness and accept his rebuffs with such meekness one would think you nurse more than mere regret.” He petulantly added, “I do hope you always keep our compact in mind, Rio. Neither your sire nor mine will be pleased were you to suddenly renege on what they so painstakingly arranged.”

Riodan barely managed to restrain himself from rolling his eyes. “Rest assured, I am perfectly aware of all my obligations,” he dryly replied.

He was not the least impressed by Guyon’s show of jealousy; not when he knew full well that it was not a lover’s possessiveness that prompted it but rather Guyon’s desire for the royal connection a binding with Riodan would bring him. Guyon deemed it propitious that Riodan’s star should be in ascendancy at Rohyr’s court when the Baraths’

own political fortunes were slowly dwindling.

Whatever made me think Guyon would be a suitable spouse?
Riodan crossly asked himself. He had known from the start that Guyon’s ambitions and his place in society would always come first. Yet he had decided at the time that he could stomach being third or fourth on his future mate’s list of priorities. That had changed when he came into close contact with Dylen again. It was inevitable once he started comparing the two.

Guyon was as different as could be from Dylen and not in a favorable way.

Now he wondered how he could possibly endure a lifetime with a Deir he was beginning to heartily dislike.

There was good reason indeed not to show up in some shabby old thing at Rohyr’s nuptials, Riodan conceded a sennight later. Unlike in his first binding celebration where his rather muted wedding garb had betrayed his reluctance to wed under duress, the Ardan was majesty personified tonight. And majesty deeply in love, too.

That Rohyr truly desired this union with his longtime concubine showed in the sumptuousness of their attire. They appeared as their temple binding had made them—

Ylandre’s Ardan and his lawfully and lovingly wedded spouse and royal consort.

Riodan watched Dylen wheel his father across the reception hall so that Hirlen could personally congratulate the new Ardis. Lassen did not stand on ceremony but leaned down and enfolded Hirlen in an affectionate hug. Rohyr soon joined them, and before long, they were talking and laughing merrily.

They look like a family
, Riodan thought. Nay, they
are
family, he amended. Rohyr had made no secret of his delight at gaining a brother. And he probably saw Hirlen as a surrogate parent having lost his own when he was quite young. Riodan felt a sudden pang as the realization came to him that he could have been part of their intimate group had he stayed true to Dylen. And to himself.

He stifled a sigh and put on a smile just as Guyon came up to him with a couple of acquaintances—younger sons of landed gentry from Sidona. His smile nearly disappeared when he heard the tail end of what Guyon was telling them. “And Riodan is very close to our Ardan—why, he’s practically kin. Mind you, it isn’t as if we need the royal connection, but it would be ridiculous to refuse any benefits that come our way, wouldn’t it?”

Trying his best not to grit his teeth, Riodan demurred, “That isn’t quite right, Guyon.

His Majesty deems me a friend, no more, no less.”

“You’re being too modest,” Guyon said a trifle patronizingly.

“Nay, I’m being honest,” Riodan retorted. “Rohyr has kin enough by blood and marriage to have no need to look outside House Essendri for Deira to call relations.”

“But what of Tenryon Hadrana?” one of the pair asked. “He’s no relation to the Ardan, but he’s treated like one.”

“True, he’s not a blood relation,” Riodan agreed. “But his half-brother Jareth is a cousin of Rohyr’s and that makes Tenryon kin by affinity.”

“Speaking of half-brothers,” the other Deir cut in, his eyes suddenly riveted on something behind Riodan. “The Ardan’s brother is a feast for the eyes, isn’t he?”

Riodan looked back over his shoulder. Dylen stood a short distance away chatting with some guests. Before he could avert his gaze, Dylen turned his head and saw him. He politely dipped his head before resuming the conversation. Meanwhile, the two youths continued to ogle Dylen appreciatively and with much excitement.

“Please, Your Excellency, could you introduce us to him?” the second Deir hopefully asked.

Riodan tried to make an excuse of not wanting to intrude only to have the first Deir eagerly say, “Oh, but look,
Dyhar
, he’s taking his leave of them!”

Left with no recourse, Riodan reluctantly headed toward Dylen, the two Sidonans

and a pouting Guyon in tow. Dylen looked at him in some surprise when Riodan intercepted him. But the surprise quickly changed to cool courtesy when Riodan asked if he could introduce his companions. Dylen made all the correct responses, a gracious smile illuminating his comely face, which thereby nearly reduced the young Deira to speechlessness.

“And, of course, you’re already acquainted with Guyon Barath,” Riodan said in a barely audible voice.

Dylen briefly nodded to Guyon then turned his attention back to the youths. “I trust you’re enjoying yourselves?” he politely said.

“Oh indeed, Your Grace! It’s not every day we get to witness a royal binding!”

enthused one.

“Not to mention see so many notable Deira gathered in one place,” chimed in the other.

“Then I take it you deem it worth travelling all the way here from southern Sidona.”

The pair gaped at him in awe. “Oh, how did you know we hail from the south of the fief,
Dyhar
?” the first Deir asked.

“Your accent,” Dylen explained. “It’s similar to Rio’s.”

To his embarrassment, Riodan felt his cheeks heat up in a blush. He strove to dampen the surge of pleasure brought about by Dylen’s implied acknowledgement of their previous closeness. But it must have shown in his face nevertheless, for Guyon suddenly scowled. He looked at Dylen, eyes gleaming unpleasantly.

“I was going to show my friends around after the reception,” he announced with a sly grin. “I thought they might appreciate the more sophisticated diversions our city has to offer. A visit to a
hethare
club for instance.”

“Guyon!”

“Oh come now, Rio,” Guyon snidely said. “I’m sure Essendri-
dyhar
can recommend a decent club considering his intimate knowledge of such places.” He smirked at Dylen, his tone just this side of a sneer. “Or perhaps you would care to join us for a night of debauchery—I mean indulgence, Your Grace.”

There was a concerted gasp at his insolence. The Sidonans glanced nervously at Dylen, wondering how he would retaliate. But, while Riodan elbowed Guyon in the ribs and furiously glared at him, Dylen remained virtually expressionless.

As if only just realizing the severity of his offense, Guyon’s eyes widened, and he gestured apologetically. “I beg your pardon,” he said, seemingly abashed. “What was I thinking, assuming Your Grace would wish to revisit your old haunts or mingle with former associates?”

Dylen’s answering smile was frosty yet ever so polite. “On the contrary, I frequently return to my old haunts and keep in touch with my former associates,” he coolly said. “I don’t care to lose the affection of folk who stay loyal to me come what may. It’s more than I can say for others who forsake their friends as soon as there’s naught to be gained from them.” He looked pointedly at Guyon. “But you know all about that, don’t you, Barath-
tyar
?”

The sudden crimsoning of Guyon’s cheeks told of Dylen’s sure aim. He took leave of the now hushed group and disappeared into the crowd.

Forgetting all tact, Riodan growled, “Dolt! That was beyond the pale! You should be thankful Dylen never brings such matters to Rohyr’s attention.” He recoiled when a smug

smile curved Guyon’s mouth. “And you knew that!” he exclaimed in disgust. “Saints above, Guyon! You’re little better than dog excrement! Excuse me while I get some fresh air to rid my nostrils of your stench.”

Guyon found himself protesting to thin air when Riodan angrily turned his back on him and stalked off.

He was still fuming when he wandered onto one of the balconies. Taking in the balmy night breeze, he struggled to bring his temper under control.

Deity’s blood
, he thought,
Guyon’s conduct is inexcusable!
If word were to reach Rohyr, Guyon would be barred from court. Indeed, all the Baraths could be subject to royal censure just for being related to him. Really, what had that imbecile thought to achieve? The humiliation of a perceived adversary? Well, Dylen had certainly put paid to that attempt and neatly turned the tables on him. Now all Riodan could hope was for Dylen to be magnanimous enough not to report Guyon’s behavior to Rohyr.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose wearily. If he were truly honest with himself, it would be a blessed relief were Guyon banned from the Citadel. Then there would be one place at least where he could be confident of not encountering him. He closed his eyes and sighed. How had his relationship with Guyon deteriorated in so short a time? They were friends—or supposed to be friends. He would not have consented to the betrothal otherwise.

Someone stepped out onto the adjacent balcony. It was Dylen.

Riodan saw him turn briefly to gaze at something inside the great hall. He looked in the direction of Dylen’s gaze and realized he was watching his brother and law-brother.

Lassen stood in the circle of Rohyr’s arms, leaning back against him while Rohyr spoke to his counsellor uncle Yovan Seydon and his spouse Mered. The royal couple’s easy intimacy was wonderful to behold.
But it can be painful for some,
Riodan thought, when Dylen’s face took on a wistful expression.

He impulsively headed over to the other balcony.

Dylen had turned back to look up at the star-flecked sky and did not notice his arrival. But when Riodan came up alongside him, Dylen visibly stiffened before training an inquiring stare on him. Riodan wondered not for the first time how Dylen usually managed to sense his presence.

He hesitated, unsure what to say. But, slightly unnerved by Dylen’s steady gaze, he said rather inanely, “I see you needed some fresh air as well.”

Dylen regarded him frowningly then nodded. “Why did you join me?” he abruptly asked. He glanced at the balcony Riodan had vacated. “The air is just as fresh yonder.”

Riodan flushed. “I wished to speak to you,” he admitted.

“So—speak.”

Damn it all, Dylen made it so hard! Riodan exhaled and said, “I want to apologize for Guyon’s behavior.”

Dylen scowled. “Why are you apologizing for that thickhead? It’s a useless exercise and not worth the words or effort wasted on it. Or are you expressing remorse for the motives that led you to accept wedlock with someone like him?” he taunted. “In which case, I’ll thank you not to foist your self-inflicted troubles on me.”

Riodan stared at him, shocked by Dylen’s open rancor. “Can’t you let the past be?”

he blurted. “Must you always have it stand between us? What in Aisen will it take to soften your heart, Dy?”

He fell back a step when Dylen visibly bridled.

“You dare say that to me?” Dylen scathingly said. “You call me hard-hearted for refusing your overtures? You who would have rather let my father die a wretched death than forego a proper match and a plum assignment. Why in the name of all that’s holy should I forget the past and risk putting myself through that misery once more? And at your so very capable hands may I add.”

Riodan averted his face as if struck. His throat tight from Dylen’s crushing disdain, he could not muster a reply.