He took a sip of wine and smiled at Paole again before continuing.
“Communications with the castle are under my control, and we’re taking steps to control communications outside the duchy. However, within the duchy, you can all speak freely to your friends and relatives. I urge you, whether by telegram or telephone, to spread the word of my return and of Konsatin’s crimes. I don’t want a civil war. I do want civilian support. I want
your
support.” He lifted his wine glass. “To Sardelsa!”
“To Sardelsa!”
The last thing Yveni did before he retired for the day was to calmly inform the mayor that he wished to share a bedroom with his lover. The poor man had had so many shocks that day Paole doubted the significance of the request even registered.
Once out of the public eye, Yveni wilted. “Gods, I’m shattered. I think I could sleep for a million years.”
He struggled with his shirt and cravat until Paole took pity on him and undressed him like a child. He held up the coat Yveni had not worn that evening, though he’d carried it on his arm. “What on earth have you been doing? Rolling around in kardip dung?”
“The cart they tossed me into wasn’t very clean. Is it ruined?”
“It needs cleaning.”
“Ugh. I can’t face it. Toss it on a chair and I’ll deal with it in the morning. If I have to travel naked, so be it.”
Paole grinned at the idea, and did his best to dust the poor coat off. It really did need cleaning though. He laid it aside as a bad job. “Want me to see if there’s a bath available?”
“No. A cloth and basin’s fine.” He yawned. “Maybe in the morning.”
“Lie down and let me tend to you.”
“Are you sure? Aren’t you angry with me?”
“Not any more, since you managed to survive
again
. But you need a wash.”
Naked, Yveni threw himself on the bed. “Have at it, man. Don’t expect me to return the favour because I can’t move.”
“I don’t. Not tonight. Tell me we don’t have to leave at the crack of dawn.”
“No, we don’t. Markov is moving troops as we speak so we don’t end up with any more nasty little surprises. This time we travel
behind
the main body, and we’ll catch up on horseback. Hopefully we’ll have more civilians with us.”
Paole fetched a washcloth and basin of hot water, still amazed by the luxury of having it on tap, which he’d never seen, even in Karvis. He wrung out the cloth and wiped Yveni’s face. “Aren’t you worried about taking civilians with you?”
“The greater the support, the less likely Konsatin is to pull another stunt like today. I’m not saying it’s impossible, but we’re hoping to force the confrontation at the castle. That’s if he doesn’t flee, which would suit me just fine. He’s still there now.”
“And your sisters?”
Paole drew the cloth across Yveni’s nipples, and stroked his neck with it. Yveni stretched and smiled up at him. “We don’t know. Konsatin would gain nothing by harming them and he’ll want to use them to bargain with, so I hope they’re safe enough. Sofia and Juen are doing their best to sift through the images of the future but it’s quite hard on them. So much is going on and it’s uncertain. It’s not like being handed a letter with it all laid out neatly. They did good work today. Everyone did. I’m so proud of them.”
Paole paused in wiping Yveni’s firm stomach. “Everyone but me.” Yveni stared at him in confusion. “I let you down. I’m sorry.”
“You didn’t. You were worried about me. I was worried about you too.”
“Yes, but I tried to stop you…and I was prepared to sacrifice a lot of civilians just to save you.”
“People in the abstract don’t matter as much as people in the particular. Paole, I don’t think you’re a monster. This isn’t much fun for you.”
Paole turned his attention to Yveni’s long legs before he answered. “I suppose I should have thought about it more.”
“I’m glad you’re here. Not glad that you’re in danger but having you by my side… Gods, I feel so privileged.”
“I suppose I’m going to have to get used to what it means to be a duc’s consort.”
“Yes. Because you’d make a damn funny-looking duces.” Yveni laughed as Paole threw the washcloth at his head. “Now, now, violence against the heir to the throne is a capital offence.”
“Do your worst, Your Grace.”
“Not tonight. I’ll see what I can manage in the morning. Come to bed, my love.”
Paole tucked Yveni firmly against him, but Yveni craved more contact than that, draping his legs over Paole, and not content until every possible centimetre of his skin was touching him. A reminder, if any were needed, that while Yveni was brave and determined and clever, he was yet barely a man full-grown, and new to this as Paole was himself.
“Your friends worry you’ll kill yourself with overwork,” he ventured.
“I thought they might. Gil is certain Father’s stroke was the result of all the stress over the betrothal, and the cabinet arguments before that.” Yveni kissed Paole’s right nipple, nuzzling against his chest as Mathias the foal might have done. “Father was alone for many years after my mother died. Grief was the worst strain on him. I’ll have you at my side, I hope.”
“Will you let me rein you in? You didn’t today.”
A long silence. Paole had crossed from the personal into his lover’s public role, and he knew that side barely at all. Too easily could he offend here.
“Our family has always married nobility. People who’ve run their own estates, been part of the government. Explanations about what we do…aren’t needed.”
“You know what I am.”
“Yes, I do,” Yveni said quickly, “and I love you for that. It’s no fault in you, Paole. It’s me. I should have explained. This is much easier for me than you. I’ve trained for it all my life.”
“I don’t want to hinder you, boy.”
Yveni bit him in reproach for that word, and Paole rubbed his sore skin, accepting it. “You’re no hindrance. We’ll talk, I promise. I’m just so tired right now.”
Paole cupped his head and pressed it closer to him. “Sleep. We’ll have time later.”
And it was his duty to make sure there was. He might not be a lord, but he’d match his vicont where it mattered. That, he promised himself.
The long lie-in Paole had hoped for didn’t eventuate. A knock on the door woke them at dawn—Gil, with word from Markov. “Our troops have engaged the mercenaries near Lihle. They’ve contained them, but there have been losses.”
Paole put his arm around Yveni’s waist, feeling his lover’s pulse speed up. “Heavy?” Yveni asked.
“Fifty or so. The wounded are being taken to Lihle because there’s an infirmary there.”
“I should go and help,” Paole said.
Gil shook his head. “I think they can manage. And I doubt it’s the last fight we’ll see.”
“Sofia?”
Gil shrugged. “She’s receiving images of battle but she can’t place them. The castle appears in some, not others. Juen’s reporting the same thing. But some good news—Markov sent word back that Sardelsan troops are in control of the border. He’s given orders that mercenaries can leave but not enter. He thought it better than tying up troops in detaining them.”
“Agreed. I better get up, I suppose.”
Paole quietly groaned but Gil held up his hand. “No, rest, lad. That’s the news. The route is clear but Markov wants to make sure the road to Lihle and beyond is secured. He thinks you should push through to the castle today and not stop in Lihle.”
“If that’s his advice, I accept it. No one’s heard from Konsatin? Any movement there?”
“None reported. We have troops there already. The castle’s in lockdown. I’m sure we’ll hear if Konsatin attempts to leave.”
“Then send word to Markov that Konsatin can be allowed to leave the duchy for his home, but not to travel elsewhere in Sardelsa or to any other destination. My sisters must not be removed from Sardelsa.”
“I’ll tell him. Want your breakfast sent up?”
Yveni nodded. “Please. Thanks, Gil.”
“You said I was your lieutenant. Just doing my job.” He grinned and left.
“So what does that make me?” Paole asked as he bore Yveni down to the bed and kissed him.
“Aide-de-camp? Best friend and supporter?” Yveni put his arms around Paole’s neck. “Indispensable companion, I think. We’ll be at the castle tonight, looks like.”
“So you’ll confront Konsatin then?”
“Hmmm, doubt it. He’s let other people do his dirty work so far. I’m worried he’ll use my sisters as hostages. Not sure what I’ll do if he does.”
Yveni fell into contemplation, and Paole realised for the moment, he was far from his lover’s thoughts. So he held him and waited, and when Yveni came back to him, Paole kissed him and reminded himself that he would always come second to Sardelsa in Yveni’s attentions. Could one be jealous of an entire country? Was there any point?
By midmorning, all their party were up. The talk over tea was of the battle at Lihle and the general uproar in the country fed by the newssheet reports, and the rapid spread of reports through the telephone system. Yveni remarked wryly that his father had never thought it would be used in insurrection. Popular opinion was solidly in favour of the returning heir, though criticism of Konsatin was muted.
“How can they agree with what he did yesterday?” Paole asked.
“They don’t, most likely,” Gil said. “But Yveni’s not overthrown him yet. If he loses, Konsatin’s shown himself to be ruthless. Would you like to be the printer whose newssheet accused him of treachery, if he remains in power?”
“Politics makes my head hurt.”
Yveni laughed and rubbed Paole’s arm in sympathy. “And mine, sometimes.”
The news of the soldiers’ deaths had depressed Yveni for a while, so his buoyant mood now surprised Paole. He thought Yveni would be more worried, but when he had a chance for a private word with Gil and asked him, Gil hadn’t been surprised. “Things are moving. He’s been waiting all his life for a real role, and two years to tackle Konsatin. One way or another, in a very short time, he’ll know his future.”
“Does Sofia foreSee his death?”
Gil looked at him, expression sombre. “Not in the next four days.” Which wasn’t as reassuring as it might have been, but Paole would get no better answer.
After all the exciting and worrying news of the morning, the journey they began just before noon was an anticlimax. The party travelling with them had swelled by thirty—civilians determined to fight along Yveni to bring him to the throne. Konsatin had made a lot of people in Teinemel very angry. But any actual fighting had, for the moment, finished. As their group cantered along the well-made road towards Lihle, Paole noted no signs of the earlier battle. Until, of course, one realised the occasional gashes on the trees were from bullets, and the dark marks on the road and grass were blood.
Following Markov’s advice, most of their group didn’t go through Lihle, though Yveni and Paole did, taking a small escort. Yveni made a quick visit to the infirmary to enquire after the wounded and to thank them for their sacrifice. The dead soldiers were to be buried in the town’s graveyard and Yveni promised to return to attend a proper memorial once Konsatin was dealt with. He was quiet for a good hour after he rejoined the others.
What did it feel like to know men had died for one’s ambitions? To look at a young soldier who’d just had an arm amputated at the elbow, and to know you’d been the cause of it? Paole wanted to ask, but it wasn’t the time, and Yveni wouldn’t thank him for it later, most likely. This was new for Paole, having to judge what hurt or offended someone he cared about. Most of his life, he’d only been concerned with avoiding a beating or worse. Old Mathias had been an easygoing soul, impossible to offend, and Paole had been as frank with him as he’d dare be with any master. Even with Yveni in the early days, he’d never guarded his tongue or his temper. But now…if he pressed his lover too hard, put too much stress on him when he needed to concentrate or to make hard decisions, Paole could do irreparable harm. He’d have to learn diplomacy, though he didn’t know who could teach him, since Gil and Sofia were as blunt and plain as Paole himself.
Perhaps Yveni would teach him, but there was no time for that here. Paole would have to guard his mouth and his manners, and hide his feelings until Yveni was safely back in the castle. Only then could he judge if a life as a consort offered him anything to replace what he’d given up.