By Chance Met (24 page)

Reijir scowled, memories from long ago further darkening his mood. He abruptly shared a few of them with Eiren, brusquely forcing his way past the physician’s shields to fill his mind with thoughts and images from those unhappy times. Eiren softly swore and lifted a hand to grip his cousin’s shoulder.

“You must listen to Naeth first before you pass judgment,” he said. “No two people are alike, Rei, not even Zykriel and Gilmael for all their physical similarities.”

“I know that! I just—” Reijir exhaled wearily. “I don’t care to have my hopes dashed once more. Hope was all that kept me alive through
Aba
’s cruelty, and when even that was taken away…” He shuddered.

Eiren tightened his hold on Reijir’s shoulder. “That hope was vanquished, true, but others took its place. Keiran’s well-being, your fief’s prosperity—you fulfilled them despite your sire’s black legacy. Why doubt yourself now?” He studied Reijir closely.

“Because you feel differently about him, don’t you?” he murmured.

Reijir stilled then pulled away. “I
hope
he isn’t keeping other such secrets from me,”

he flatly said. He moved back to Naeth’s bedside to stare down at him once more. “When will he awaken?”

“Likely before daybreak,” Eiren replied. He yawned. “I need some sleep. And by the way, you’re welcome.”

Reijir looked at him in surprise, followed by a contrite grimace. “Forgive me, Ren.

I’m behaving abominably yet it was I who made you travel all the way here.”

“Yes, and yes, but I’m not surprised. Not anymore.”

“Eiren—”

“Deny it all you want but don’t think you can get me to believe you.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Reijir smiled ruefully and said, “Then I won’t. But thank you for helping Naeth and also for bearing with my churlishness.”

“Hmm, ever wonder which is the harder to do?” Eiren quipped. “Get some sleep yourself, cousin. Otherwise, you’ll be useless to him when he wakes up.”

Naeth’s memories of his convalescence consisted of disjointed images and sounds, none making a complete picture in his mind but each rendered vivid by dint of the concentration he struggled to apply to each incident.

Ruomi gently wiping the sweat from his brow as he murmured softly to him, his voice reassuring even if his words made little sense.

A servant straightening up, his armful of bloodied clothing replaced in the next instant or so it seemed by cool, clean sheets.

Uncle Syvan hovering nearby, biting his lip and running his hand through his hair over and again then hastily smoothing down the resultant mess—the first sign of real animation he’d displayed so far.

And Eiren—
what was he doing in Irdaran?
Confusion quickly gave way to relief as pain vanished and strength returned under the physician’s healing touch.

Above all, he remembered worried forest green eyes above him as Reijir washed and dressed and tended him. The memory would remain with Naeth to the end of his days.

He groaned and opened his eyes a crack. His first thought was of the child. He smoothed a hand over his belly, frightened by a crippling sense of emptiness.

“You lost the babe.”

Naeth caught his breath and turned his face to find Reijir sitting by the bed gazing at him, his eyes dark, with ire or sadness, Naeth could not tell. Movement by the door momentarily drew his attention, and he saw Ruomi standing there. A quick scan of the room told him he was in his bedchamber in Fiori Hall. He turned his eyes back to Reijir.

“I’m sorry, Naeth-
min
,” Reijir quietly said. “Eiren tried to save him, but your womb was not mature enough to adequately shield the child from the fall.”

“I see,” Naeth choked out.

Grief over his loss mingled with dismay and apprehension that Reijir knew his secret. He closed his eyes, feeling the threat of tears behind his lids.

“Ruomi says you were about four weeks along. Is he right?”

Naeth nodded.

“You didn’t tell me,” Reijir said reproachfully.

Naeth flinched then forced himself to look at Reijir. “I was going to,” he admitted.

“When we returned to Rikara.”

Raven eyebrows rose questioningly. “Why the wait?”

“I didn’t want you to—” Naeth stopped, unsure how to recount what happened

without making it sound as if he blamed Reijir. “It was an accident,” he tried again.

“How could there be an accident?” Reijir countered. “You were taking
mirash
.”

“Yes, except—except that night,” Naeth stumbled on. “You changed your mind

about having me from behind, but—but I hadn’t taken
mirash
yet.”

“So you let me take you unprotected?” Reijir said disbelievingly. “
Heyas!
Why didn’t you stop me?”

“I tried, I truly did,” Naeth hurriedly replied. “But you were so upset over that feud you had to settle in Ilmaren that you didn’t hear me. I mean, I don’t think you understood what I was trying to say and—”

Naeth’s stuttered explanation came to a halt when Reijir stared at him in shocked comprehension. The Herun turned ashen.

“Deity’s blood,” he whispered. “I raped you.”

“Nay!” Naeth protested. “It wasn’t rape. I wasn’t unwilling in the least.”

“But you resisted me,” Reijir tightly said. “I remember now. You kept trying to push me away and I—” He softly groaned and covered his face with one hand. “Veres forgive me,” he muttered. “I’m no better than my scurvy sire.”

Shaking his head vehemently, Naeth forced himself to sit up. Weakness swiftly overcame him, and he fell back, panting from the effort while beads of sweat broke out on his brow. Reijir looked up in alarm.

“Ruo!” he exclaimed. “Get Eiren here!”

“No need!” Naeth quickly called out, holding up a trembling hand to stop Ruomi. “I only sat up too fast.” He reached for Reijir’s hand and gripped it. “You’re nothing like your sire,” he said, tugging at Reijir’s hand until the Herun met his gaze. “You’re kind and just and you see to the needs of those in your care, even unto a whole fief. Please, Reijir, don’t compare yourself to him.”

He pulled Reijir closer until he could slip his arms around him in an embrace, burying his face in his lover’s neck. “It was an accident,” he insisted. “You weren’t yourself, and I didn’t try hard enough to warn you.”

Reijir lifted his head and placed his fingers on Naeth’s lips. “Don’t try to lessen my guilt by taking any blame, Naeth,” he sternly admonished. “I ignored your attempts to stop me. That makes me accountable.” He exhaled a shuddery breath. “Call it what you will, but I forced myself on you and, worse, got you with child and at your age. Sweet Veres, you could have died! You lost so much blood,” he hoarsely said.

Naeth tightened his hold on Reijir. “I was willing,” he emphatically reiterated. “My unreadiness was unfortunate, but that didn’t make what happened that night rape. You made love to me twice more, remember?” Cupping Reijir’s face in his hands, he kissed him deeply. When the kiss ended, he whispered. “It wasn’t rape. It can never be. I’ll always be willing.”

“Always?” Reijir skeptically said.

“Always,” Naeth firmly repeated. He inhaled deeply and declared, “I can never refuse you. Not when I love you so.”

They both went still. It was the first time a declaration of love had passed between them. Reijir regarded Naeth searchingly, but the youth stoutly met his gaze.

“How brave of you,” Reijir remarked, a small smile curving his lips though his eyes remained troubled.

Naeth caressed Reijir’s cheek affectionately. “Not at all. You’re so easy to love though you choose not to believe it.”

He wanted to say more, but a wave of lassitude struck him and he blinked owlishly, trying to stay awake.

Reijir shook his head. “Go back to sleep,” he murmured, gently pressing Naeth down. “I will stay here,” he added when Naeth held on to his hand pleadingly. He pushed strands of hair from Naeth’s forehead. “And thank you.”

“For what?” Naeth asked around a small yawn.

He wondered at the intent stare Reijir trained on him. “For caring enough to try and absolve me,” Reijir finally said.

Naeth fought the pull of sleep enough to mumble, “Because I love you.”

He finally slid back into slumber, his fingers still fast around Reijir’s hand.

Chapter Fifteen

“He’s perfectly fine, Rei. That was just a small stumble. Holy Saints, who would have thought you’d be such a worrywart!”

Reijir glared at his brother. “I am
not
a worrywart!” he growled. “Veres almighty, is it a crime to check if someone is hurt?”

Keiran clucked reprovingly. “Not just a worrywart but a sorehead as well!”

“Please, Kei-
dyhar
,” Naeth softly pleaded. He glanced anxiously at Reijir, placing a placating hand on the Herun’s arm. “I’m all right. It was just a crack in the pavement.”

Reijir gave him a quick once-over then nodded and mounted the steps to the

townhouse front door. Keiran followed him, shaking his head in obvious exasperation.

Naeth sighed.

It was now almost six months since the accident in Irdaran, but after their return to Rikara, Reijir seemed to take Naeth’s every slip or tumble a bit more seriously than warranted. Given that Reijir had witnessed his fall and kept watch over him during his convalescence, not to mention learned the reason for his near fatal hemorrhage, his heightened sensitivity to even the slightest mishaps to befall Naeth was not surprising.

What was surprising was his increasingly erratic disposition, sometimes rivaling Keiran’s mercurial temperament.

Or perhaps not so surprising, Naeth dolefully mused, considering how displeased Reijir had been when he realized to what extent his leman had kept him in the dark.

Regardless of his intentions, Naeth had essentially deceived him, and that entailed a betrayal of trust however small. No wonder Reijir often alternated between candidness and reticence nowadays, especially where Naeth was concerned.

Ruomi was right
, Naeth regretfully conceded.
I should have told him at once. The
delay only made things worse.

And then he’d had the temerity to declare himself to Reijir. Right after admitting to deceit by omission. His timing left much to be desired. More disheartening, Reijir had not responded in kind and never so much as alluded to it. At times Naeth wondered if he’d really uttered the words or only dreamt that he did.

He sighed again and hurried after the brothers.

Hardly had they entered the front foyer when Ruomi hastened toward them, speaking even before he came to a halt. The
sedyr
seemed a little flustered, something Naeth found unusual.

“My lords, you have a guest,” he announced. “His Grace, the Hamir of Dyare.”

Reijir’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. He looked at Keiran who appeared just as taken aback.

“Where did you have him wait?” Reijir asked, quickly mounting the stairs. The others swiftly followed him.

“In the gold parlor. Will you freshen up before seeing him?”

“Nay. Better to learn his reason for visiting now than delay and wonder while we’re at it.” When they reached the doors of the gold parlor, he glanced at Naeth then looked back at Ruomi. “Naeth will attend to us, Ruo. He might as well discover just how many skeletons we’ve got hidden in the family closets.”

Naeth gaped. He looked questioningly at Keiran, but the elder Arthanna only faintly grinned. Keiran swept into the chamber after his brother. Naeth hastily followed.

An elegantly attired Deir rose from the couch, a small smile curving his mouth as the brothers approached him.

Even before he noticed the Deir’s face, Naeth took note of his clothing. It was the first time he had ever seen anyone dressed in a crimson tunic who did not look the least bit gaudy or dandified. If anything, the color suited him, both his milky complexion and his air of quiet sophistication. Naeth curiously lifted his gaze to the visitor’s countenance.

He stared at the Deir’s face and form with fascination. He was even more exotic than the Arthanna brothers. His dark brown hair, streaked with whitish gold and combed back to uncover a high forehead, framed a comely yet almost ascetic face. The slant of his startling pale blue eyes was more distinct than either Reijir or Keiran’s, the well-defined cheekbones beneath emphasizing their foreignness even further. He was about the same height as Keiran, but he carried himself with such confidence and a sense of authority that he seemed taller. And slim though his frame appeared, Naeth suspected he was as well-knit and probably as experienced in the battle arts as the Arthannas. He moved with martial grace rather than mere poise.

Naeth noted that neither brother had welcomed him as yet. Indeed they were eyeing him somewhat warily.

“What brings you here,
Dyhar
?” Reijir finally asked.

“Formal as ever, I see,” the Hamir commented. “It has been long since you visited Dyare,” he pointed out.

“So it has. Our apologies.”

“Accepted. And that is the reason I’m here.”

“To check on us,” Keiran said.

“As I always have.” The Dyarin lord wryly smiled. “You are Liande’s sons.

Whatever the unfortunate ramifications of your sire’s folly, you know I do not lack in affection for you.”

The brothers glanced at each other. Reijir sighed and nodded while Keiran, to Naeth’s surprise, drew the Hamir into a hug. The Deir looked pleased with the warm gesture.

“You were always the expressive brother,” he told Keiran approvingly. He glanced at Reijir, his eyes twinkling slightly. “And you the reserved one. It’s just as well you haven’t changed overmuch, else my poor heart would give from the shock.”

Reijir snorted. “Highly unlikely. You have the constitution of a Silesian ox,” he said.

He extended his hand and squeezed the Hamir’s when the Deir proffered his own.

“Welcome to Ylandre, Uncle Lihom.”

Naeth stifled a gasp. More intrigued than ever, he tried not to stare too blatantly at the elegant Khitairan.

He remembered Keiran’s description of the brethren’s foreign
adda
. The son of the Hamir of Dyare at the time, Keiran had said. If this noble was the current Dyarin fief-lord, that made him the previous one’s son and, therefore, elder brother to Reijir and Keiran’s birthing father.