Hallowed Bond (Chronicles of Ylandre Book 2) (25 page)

“But what of his parents?
Your
parents? Rio, I…” Dylen trailed away, unsure just what he wanted to say.

“I haven’t felt so light and free in a long time as when I sent that letter,” Riodan said with a small smile. “It seemed the weight of all Aisen had been lifted off me. I’m just…

For the first time in years, I’m actually happy, Dy.” His gaze turned earnest, almost pleading. “Won’t you, can’t you be happy for me?”

Dylen blew his breath out. After a tense moment, he reached across and covered Riodan’s hand with his own. He looked warmly at Riodan and the corners of his mouth turned up.

“I am,” he gently said. “More than you can possibly imagine.”

Riodan’s smile grew brighter, and he tightly clasped Dylen’s hand.

A sennight later, they were invited to dinner at the palace with the Deir they suspected of being behind the recent deaths in the royal family. Malkon’s invitation came as a surprise given that the Ferrenda heir had shown no interest whatsoever in being around Dylen or Riodan, much less socializing with them. Far more worrying for Riodan was that the invitation had been initially addressed to Dylen alone. Thus, he was relieved when Dylen very politely requested that Riodan be permitted to accompany him, claiming it was an Ylandrin custom that a member of the royal family never attended a formal dinner by himself. Riodan was fairly sure no such custom existed, but he prudently kept his mouth shut.

“By the way, why did you insist I join you?” he later asked Dylen when they arrived at the palace. “Do you think something is afoot?”

“Don’t you?” Dylen countered.

Riodan nodded. “He looked at you differently during our meeting with Amir this morning.”

“As if he were amused by something.”

“Would that were the case.” Riodan frowned. “Nay, there was something more to it.

One doesn’t openly look a guest over as if he were inspecting him. It wasn’t merely impolitic of him. He was disrespectful to you, Dy. I didn’t like it.”

“Neither did I,” Dylen soberly admitted. “Why think you did I invent a ridiculous custom just so you could come with me?”

They ceased talking when a palace attendant came to escort them to the dinner venue. It was one of the small dining chambers reserved for occasions when the Asmaran royals wished to entertain guests in private. Riodan was more relieved than ever that he was with Dylen when they entered the room and found Malkon not alone as they’d been led to believe but in the company of three other Deira. Somehow, he felt uncomfortable at the thought of Dylen having to deal with more than just the Ferrenda lord’s attentions.

The others were friends of his from the Terazan embassy, Malkon told them. He duly apologized for not informing them in advance that there would be other guests present.

Riodan believed neither statement.

These Deira did not comport themselves like diplomats nor did they behave like upper crust folk who alone would pass as suitable company for someone as class conscious as Malkon. It was possible they really were from Teraz, but as that country had once been old Varadan’s staunchest ally—its ruling family was closely related by blood and marriage to the Ferrendas to this day—he deduced that these were sympathizers of the deposed royal house of the defunct nation. He also suspected Malkon had not felt confident about meeting with them alone and thus had provided security for himself accordingly. As for the apology, Riodan set it aside for the obvious insincerity that it was.

The meal started out pleasantly enough. Conversation ran along strictly conventional lines. As Riodan expected, Malkon’s so-called “friends” contributed little in the way of sparkling repartee and let him do most of the talking.

The food was surprisingly lavish for such a small dinner. Malkon obviously wanted to impress his guests with his wealth and sophistication. Riodan had to refrain from rolling his eyes several times during the course of the evening as their host took it upon himself to regale them with stories of his extensive trips abroad, conveniently forgetting that Riodan was far more travelled than he and therefore knew when his recollections were no more than tall tales.

They were just finishing the sweet course, a spiced fruit ice served with a splash of sparkling wine, when Malkon turned his full attention to Dylen. He was a handsome Deir, Riodan grudgingly admitted to himself. If one favored small blue eyes, mousy brown hair and somewhat spotty skin, he uncharitably concluded.

“I heard a most interesting rumor, Essendri-
tyar
,” Malkon all but purred. “Is it true that you were once one of the most sought after
hethare
in Rikara?”

Riodan felt as if someone had punched him in the gut. Quickly collecting himself, he managed to remain expressionless. He glanced at Dylen. If he was startled by the less than delicate allusion to his past, the Ardan’s brother did not show it either.

“It is true,” he coolly said, ignoring the leers of Malkon’s cohorts.

Malkon smirked. “How fascinating. And I imagine you haven’t forgotten your skills.

Unless, of course, you haven’t put them into practice lately.”

“Why this interest in Essendri-
tyar’s
former profession?” Riodan cut in.

Malkon shrugged. “Oh, I’m merely intrigued. I’ve never availed of the
hethare’s
services.”

“Never?” Riodan repeated in obvious disbelief.

“I have no need for paid companionship,” Malkon smugly said. “Deira freely seek my bed.”

“Is that what they tell you?” Dylen said, amusement limning his voice.

Malkon could not conceal the hint of annoyance in the sudden downward curve of his mouth. “But perhaps I have missed something in foregoing the company of the
hethare
,” he allowed. He let his eyes rake Dylen’s sleek frame more blatantly than he had earlier that morning. “And perhaps you would not be averse to educating me, eh?”

“Educating you?”

Spreading his hands expansively, Malkon smiled and said, “You are a beauty. I can see why many desired your company. I wouldn’t forego a chance to benefit from your

talents.”

Before an indignant Riodan could speak, Dylen responded with a bland smile. “You enjoy being fucked within an inch of your life then?” he crudely asked.

While Riodan stared at him, Malkon gaped in shock. “I beg your pardon?” he managed to say after collecting himself.

Dylen leaned back in his chair. “Didn’t your source inform you that I was most known for that particular service? There are many Deira whose partners aren’t as endowed as they would like or who play the sword out of duty but would prefer sheathing it in truth. Which one are you?”

Riodan dabbed his lips with his napkin to cover a grin. Malkon’s expression was priceless.

“I am neither,” the Deir finally replied after an awkward silence. He recovered his composure somewhat and slyly smiled. “And surely you cultivated other skills for those like myself. I have never yet heard of a
hethar
who didn’t spread himself for his patrons’

pleasure.”

Dylen shrugged. “It is part of the profession,” he agreed.

“Sweet Veres, but you’re a cool one,” Malkon remarked admiringly. The desire in his eyes intensified to Riodan’s dismay. “So, what say you to my proposal?”

“May I remind you that Essendri-
tyar
retired years ago,” Riodan pointed out, barely keeping the ire out of his voice.

Malkon chuckled. “Well, surely he would consider briefly un-retiring for the sake of international goodwill.”

“Are you suggesting that our Ardan’s brother service you?” Riodan shot back, no longer troubling to hide his anger.

“Service?” Malkon said in mock horror. “Nay, I was merely inviting him for, shall we say, a night of mutual pleasure.”

About to retort, Riodan stopped when Dylen flashed him a warning look. He gritted his teeth and sat back, folding his arms in patent disapproval.

Dylen gazed at Malkon from under half-lowered lids, his mouth curving ever so slightly upward with just a trace of a pout emphasizing the lushness of his lips. It was a look that very rarely failed to beguile whoever it was bestowed on. Malkon did not prove the exception. He caught his breath and licked his lips, his eyes sweeping over Dylen’s body with even more blatant lust than before. Riodan bristled inwardly, wondering what in
heyas
Dylen thought he was doing.

Of a sudden, Dylen sweetly smiled. “I dare say you’ll have need of Prince Sivar’s attention tonight, judging from the state of your nether parts.”

His smile widened as the others all but spat out their drinks. Malkon stared incredulously at him. Dylen smoothly rose to his feet, prompting Riodan to do the same.

“Leyhar-
tyar
and I must retire for the night,” he said apologetically. “It’s been a long day, and we face an even longer one tomorrow.” He suddenly leaned over Malkon as he passed him, preempting whatever vituperative words the Deir might have uttered with a huskily murmured, “I will think on your suggestion. It has been a while since I last
educated
anyone.”

He swept out of the room. Riodan followed him, chancing a backward glance at Malkon as he exited the chamber. The Ferrenda heir was red-faced and looked fit to burst, as much from sexual excitement as fury if the painfully prominent bulge in his

crotch was indication of his wretched state.

Riodan hurried to catch up with Dylen. They did not talk until their carriage left the palace grounds. Riodan could not help grinning at the memory of Malkon’s discomfiture.

“Malkon was on the verge of a bout of conniptions,” he commented. “You’ve probably put him off from importuning you again.”

Dylen shrugged. “Perhaps. It will depend on whether he wants my backside more than he hates my guts. No matter. I can always seduce him if necessary.”

“Seduce—” Riodan’s grin vanished.

“And I confess to some curiosity as to whether his arse is as untried as he claims.”

“Dy! How can you jest about such a thing?” Riodan protested.

“But I’m not jesting,” Dylen replied. “Sivar doesn’t strike me as submissive in bed even if he’s generally soft-spoken in public. Verily, I believe it’s Malkon who plays the mare in their marriage, his claim to the contrary notwithstanding.”

“Well, surely you’re not serious about finding that out for yourself.”

“And why shouldn’t I be? It isn’t something I haven’t done before.”

Riodan stared at him. “You’re actually considering it?”

Dylen nodded. “We need to know what he knows. It’s very easy to plumb someone’s mind when he’s lost in sexual pleasure. Were it not for the possibility of offending Sivar beyond repair, I would have propositioned Malkon long before this. In any case, it may still come to that if we want to discover the truth soonest.”

“Saints, I hope not!”

“Here we are.”

Riodan started when he realized they were at the embassy. They both alighted and entered the building. They did not speak again until they reached their quarters. Dylen courteously opened Riodan’s door for him and gestured to him to enter.

“I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Dy—”

“Good night, Rio.”

He strode off, seemingly oblivious of Riodan’s anxious gaze.

Chapter Twenty

Atonement

Three-quarters of an hour later, Dylen answered the insistent knocking on his door.

He had been wrestling with indecision since he returned to his room and had just determinedly snatched up his tunic again when someone rapped loudly on his door.

Slinging the garment over his arm, he strode to the door and opened it. He looked in surprise at a slightly red-faced Riodan.

“May I come in?” the ambassador asked.

Dylen stepped aside to let him in, taking note that Riodan was dressed for bed in a loose shirt and drawstring trousers. He wondered why the latter had come to his room when he had never done so before. Riodan strode past him, his manner somewhat distracted. Dylen closed the door and turned to silently wait out Riodan’s restless pacing.

At last, Riodan came to a stop and faced him, his expression slightly irate yet entreating at the same time.

“You were serious?” he asked. “About tupping Malkon for information?”

Dylen regarded him cautiously. “If it will make him talk,” he replied. He approached Riodan and caught him by the shoulder. “You’re angry. Why?”

Riodan started to pull away then stopped and looked at Dylen pleadingly. “I just can’t believe that you would go so far as to use your body. You left that life behind when Rohyr recognized you. Why resort to it once more?”

“We came here for a reason,” Dylen reminded him. “If taking Malkon to bed will help us find out what we need to know, then I have no qualms about doing so.”

“Oh Veres…” Riodan put a hand to his forehead and rubbed it agitatedly then ran his fingers carelessly through his hair. He looked at Dylen with pain-filled eyes. “Is it so easy for you? Deity’s blood, Dy, it was years before I bedded anyone after you! And even then it didn’t feel right.” He swallowed and lowered his eyes. “It never felt right again.”

Dylen could not stop himself from asking, “What about Guyon?”

*

Riodan looked up quickly. Had there been displeasure in Dylen’s voice?

“It never felt right again,” he repeated. “You spoiled me for others, Dy.”

Dylen gazed at him then nodded. “I suppose I should be flattered,” he softly remarked. He smiled a little crookedly. “Ah, why deny it? I
am
flattered, Rio.”

Riodan suddenly drew his breath in sharply, his gaze riveted on the tunic on Dylen’s arm.

“I was going to—” Dylen started to say. He broke off when Riodan grabbed the garment and flung it aside.

“Please don’t bed anyone out of some ridiculous sense of obligation,” Riodan almost angrily begged.

Dylen looked at him thoughtfully. His eyes narrowed. “And what if I
want
to?”

Riodan dumbly stared at him. At last he muttered, “I won’t object if you truly want to-to…” He sighed with resignation. “Very well, I’d best leave you to it then.”

He headed for the door. But, when he reached it, he suddenly turned around, his eyes blazing with wounded disbelief, and blurted, “It’s not for me to question your taste, but I never imagined you would care for the likes of Malkon Ferrenda! It beggars belief that you should want—” Riodan abruptly stopped, his cheeks flaming. “I’m sorry, I have no right to—No right at all…”