Cross Purposes (Chronicles of Ylandre, Book 5) (6 page)

On impulse, he followed Keosqe to the latter’s study at the end of the hallway. In many of the older houses in the north district, the master suite adjoined a personal study. Since Keosqe’s parents only rarely sojourned in Rikara and left it to him to attend to the family interests in the capital, it was he who occupied the master suite. The Herun preferred to take the apartment opposite his consort’s midway up the corridor.

After a moment’s hesitation, Tristen knocked on the door. When Keosqe permitted him entry, he nervously entered the chamber. It was much smaller than the main study and cozier by far—a private retreat rather than a place to receive guests and conduct business. There was only a single writing desk whereas the main study also had a second one for the family adjutant’s use. The desk fronted one of two wide windows that overlooked the garden in back of the house. There was also a card table with four chairs and a sideboard on which snacks and the like could be placed for participants in a game. A low shelf adorned with woodcarvings and decorative ceramic and crystal ware acted as a divider between the two areas.

In the middle of the far wall, a fireplace framed by an elaborate mantelpiece and topped by a large rectangular mirror took pride of place. The walls to its left were lined with shelves upon tall shelves of books, scrolls neatly stored in jars and boxes and several antique volumes on everything from historical and religious writings to political and philosophical treatises to chronicles on the fashions and cultures of other lands. Right under the other window was a plush couch flanked by two reading chairs.

Keosqe lay stretched out on the couch, a forearm slung over his eyes. Tristen hesitated once more, wondering if he was interrupting Keosqe’s reverie.

“Come closer, Tris,” Keosqe said. “I didn’t have you come in just to bite your head off.”

Tristen chuckled uncertainly and obeyed.

“I didn’t mean to disturb you,” he ventured as he came to a stop before the couch. “I just wanted to thank you for introducing me to Eiren Sarvan.”

“You’re welcome. But there’s no need to thank me. Any Deir with an ounce of good sense would have ensured you made the best connections possible.”

Tristen smiled. “Nay, not good sense; rather kindness,” he said. “Others are not as considerate as you’ve been with us. I mayn’t approve of your tendency to indulge my brother, but I do appreciate all you’ve done for us.”

Keosqe lowered his arm to peer at him. A small grin curved his mouth. “Odd, but that makes me feel better already,” he remarked.

Wondering if Keosqe was more than just tired, Tristen asked, “Are you ill?”

“Nay, I just have the most damnable headache from trying to make sense of gibberish.” He covered his eyes once more. “The Deputy Minister of Foreign Affairs reported to Rohyr for the first time ever and, saints above, he was as articulate as a burhog and long-winded to boot. It took all our patience to sit through his report and even more to understand every other sentence. How he gained such a sensitive post I don’t know. I wager Rohyr will have his credentials investigated after that lamentable performance.”

“He has more than ample reason,” Tristen agreed. He bit his lip then reached out and touched his fingers to Keosqe’s temple. “May I?”

Keosqe removed his arm and gazed curiously at him. “Do you have the gift?”

“Nothing on the level of Master Sarvan’s. But I’m able to ease pain.”

“I see. Well then, yes please.”

Tristen laid his palm on Keosqe’s forehead. Taking a deep breath, he focused on letting his mind tap into his well of healing energy. He knew he’d succeeded when the tips of his fingers tingled and the center of his palm warmed considerably. He permitted the heat to flow from his hand to Keosqe until he felt the noble’s tension subside and saw the crease in his forehead smooth out. He removed his hand and waited for Keosqe’s reaction.

Keosqe stared at the coffered ceiling for a heartbeat and then raised himself on one arm and gazed at him in wonder.

“You are gifted indeed.”

“To some extent. I can alleviate pain but I can’t sense it beforehand.”

“I think that comes with training,” Keosqe said as he sat up. “Eiren had to learn how to discern the degree of his patients’ pain even though he was born with the ability to sense sickness and discomfort in others.”

“That’s a relief to know,” Tristen replied. “I was worried that my talent only went one way.”

“Yet you knew when my headache had dissipated,” Keosqe pointed out.

“I partly sensed it,” Tristen allowed. “But I also noticed you were no longer frowning from the pain.”

Keosqe smiled. “Your honesty is as refreshing as your looks.”

Tristen rolled his eyes, not sure whether to be flattered or irked. He almost jumped when Keosqe took his hand and drew him down on the couch beside him. Suddenly discomfited, he could not look at the noble and took refuge in staring at the bookshelves to his right.

“You came here as much to offer comfort as to thank me, didn’t you?” Keosqe softly said.

Tristen stiffened and then warily glanced at him. “Well, you looked so tired and irritable,” he explained. “You hid it from Veare, but I saw you when you entered the hallway and it seemed you were beset by something. I just … I thought you might want company. Someone to confide in.”

Keosqe regarded him with fondness. “Someone to confide in who would actually listen to what I’m saying.”

“Oh Veres…” Tristen sighed. “I’m sorry my brother hasn’t been as good a friend to you as you’ve been to him. He doesn’t mean to make light of your troubles or ignore them. It’s just that … he’s not very observant and truth be told he tends to focus on himself overmuch.”

“Loyal too,” Keosqe commented. “I like that in you, Tris-
min
. Veare should count himself hugely blessed that he has a brother like you.”

Tristen’s cheeks quickly warmed up. “I wish you wouldn’t do that,” he muttered. “It’s embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing to be complimented? Saints, you’re still a child after all.”

“I’m not a child!”

“Soon enough you won’t be,” Keosqe agreed. “It will be interesting to see how you turn out once you’ve grown.” He smirked. “Indeed, it might prove something to look forward to.”

Tristen pursed his lips and counted to ten. He cast around for a change of topic.

“So, when did you fall in love with my brother?” he abruptly asked.

Keosqe’s eyes widened and he sat back, a frown creasing his forehead once more. Tristen regretted causing its return. But Keosqe answered before he could retract the question.

“Shortly before our thirtieth summers. We swam together in the stream at the estate in Nivare and I suddenly realized he was almost grown up and turned quite comely. After that, I could no longer see him only as a friend. I longed to share more of my life with him and his with me. But he never returned the sentiment or the desire.”

“I find the lack of desire unbelievable,” Tristen said. “Veare has always had a taste for beauty and much as I hate to puff you up more than is good for you—” He paused to allow for Keosqe’s amused chortle. “You are undeniably handsomer than most and it doesn’t seem possible he felt no interest in you whatsoever. I wager he would have shared your bed at least if you’d asked him.”

Taken aback by his own audacity, he flushed further.

Keosqe grinned. “Why, thank you for the compliment. It’s good to know where I stand with someone as discerning as you.”

“
Dyhar
…”

“Ah, the sign of reproach. But we did sleep together once upon a time.”

Tristen gaped at him. “You did? When?”

Keosqe sobered. “When your parents died. He came to me the fourth night of the vigil. He was distraught. Uncertain what to do and how to provide for you. I didn’t know how to help him beyond promising to support the both of you until he could put your finances in order. Of course that wasn’t enough to console him. He needed to be held and talked to and cuddled. So I did. One thing led to another and before we realized it, we were in my bed.” He looked down at his hands, his eyes softening with memory. “He warmed it every night of the vigil and for a sennight after the funeral though he always took care to leave before daybreak.”

“What happened after that?” Tristen quietly asked. “You said you never told him you loved him, but surely in that time he must have sensed you cared for him more deeply than as a friend.”

Keosqe shook his head. “I was tempted to confess to him then. But the last night he spent with me, he thanked me for helping him. He said I was the best friend a Deir could ask for and that he hoped our friendship would see us through everything life cast at us. He didn’t stay the night and he never returned to my bed after that.”

Tristen cringed at the egregious obliviousness of his brother. The pang of sympathy he felt for Keosqe deepened into a terrible ache when hurt and sorrow shadowed the noble’s features as he spoke of his heartbreak and unresolved yearning.

“I knew then that while he might have found solace in the sharing of our bodies, he did not feel as I did and was indeed doing his best to ensure I didn’t read more into our affair than what he’d intended it to be. A source of comfort for him in his time of need.” Keosqe’s small smile was the saddest Tristen had ever seen. “He thought I would be put off our friendship if I believed he wanted more from it. He didn’t realize I wished for more. How could I tell him the truth without saddling him with the guilt of being unable to reciprocate my love?”

Tristen blew out a shaky breath. He swallowed past the lump in his throat.

How could Veare remain ignorant of his closest friend’s feelings when he claimed to know Keosqe so well? And if he was not ignorant—if he was merely indifferent—that was simply inexcusable. Tristen barely knew the noble but he’d guessed his secret just by observing him. He could not help feeling terribly sorry for Keosqe and ashamed of his brother for his obtuseness.

“I can’t believe how unfeeling he can be!” he half-exclaimed, his voice starting to tremble in his agitation. “How blind and insensitive and … and cruel!”

Something blurred his vision and cooled his cheeks. He wiped his eyes and stared in dismay at the moisture on his hand. Mortified at crying over Keosqe’s tale of love and loss, he viciously rubbed his hands over his face and tried to erase the evidence of his sentimentality.

“Wasn’t that awful of me?” he babbled. “I mean, talking about my brother like that. I shouldn’t have … done that and…” He heard a small sob. Horror set in when he realized it had come from him. He blurted, “Oh Veres! It’s late. What am I doing? You need to rest as well.” His voice finally broke as he said, “Goodnight, Kes-
tyar
.”

Tristen started to stand up, turning his tear-streaked face away. But to his shock, Keosqe wove his arms around him and pulled him back into a tight embrace. He found his face pressed against a hard shoulder. And Keosqe had buried his face against the side of Tristen’s neck.

“You’re a treasure,” Keosqe said, his voice muffled but warm with gratitude nonetheless. “Thank you for letting me unburden my heart to you. It’s a great relief to be able to admit how deeply it’s hurt for so long.” Tristen caught his breath at the touch of lips against his neck. “And for you to weep over my pain—how kind of you. How very sweet. I’m indebted to you, Tris-
min
.”

His compassion overcoming his reservations, Tristen returned the embrace. He marveled at holding so strong and tall a Deir in his arms. Hard muscle rippled beneath his fingers, recalling to him just how well-made Keosqe was. But he was soon humbled by the sensation of wetness on his neck.

Keosqe trusted him enough to shed tears in his presence. To let him behind his mask of cool confidence and show him how vulnerable he could be. Tristen inwardly cursed his brother as he had never done before.

“Who else knows?” he whispered, instinctively smoothing his hand down Keosqe’s back in a soothing manner.

Keosqe sighed. “Eiren does. He realized it when we met him yesterday. I didn’t guard my expression well enough. And you didn’t either. He guessed that you knew.”

Tristen drew back a little and stared at him curiously. “Did you unburden yourself to him?”

“A little. But not as much as I have to you.” Keosqe huffed a small laugh. “I certainly didn’t cry in front of him.
Heyas
, the last time I wept was after that last parting from Veare—after he left and I felt so alone in my room. Why I let you see me thusly I’m not sure. But it’s eminently comforting to have you at my side.” He lifted his hand and ran his knuckles down Tristen’s cheek. “I’d like us to be good friends.” His voice lowered further and turned faintly husky. “Mayhap closer friends than Veare and I ever were.”

Tristen swallowed hard. He was not sure what Keosqe was implying but neither did he care to examine the matter more closely. Not when he worried that it heralded a change in the way he and the noble regarded each other.

He could not deny he was attracted to Keosqe nor did he see merit in pretending he was merely responding to the irresistible. But he deemed himself too young and raw to engage in anything more serious than harmless flirtations. Not that flirting with Keosqe would remain harmless, of that he was certain. All the more reason to keep relations between them strictly platonic.

“I’d like to be your friend too, Kes-
tyar
,” he finally said. “It won’t help us to be constantly at loggerheads for the next several years.”

Keosqe’s eyes gleamed mischievously and his lips quirked into a grin. Tristen wondered if the noble had noticed his attempt to sidestep the issue.

“Yes, we should try and get along,” Keosqe agreed. “It will be easier for us to forge a mutual understanding then.”

Tristen stifled a groan. Keosqe had not only noticed, he appeared to have thrown down a figurative gauntlet. Was Tristen up the challenge?

Saints! Did he even understand what the challenge was?

Chapter 4

Patience

Several months onward, Tristen had adjusted reasonably well to living in the capital. Life with Keosqe Deilen was another matter however. The ways of a wealthy fief-lord’s heir were so far removed from his own, he found it hard going at times to accept the changes to his place in society, as well as pare down his tendency toward thrift and inconspicuousness. When one kept company with a Deir whose name topped many a list of desirable marriage prospects, held a position of considerable importance in government and claimed not just kinship but also close affinity to the ruler of the land, one had to expect the unexpected and manage circumstances as best as one could.