Missed Connections (69 page)

Georgia's smile turned wicked and she winked at me. "Oh good. At least they're not being naughty like we are."

I couldn't help laughing at that. "No, I'm sure they are doing that too."

I didn't know what the morning would bring, or the next afternoon, or even the following week. But I promised myself in that moment that this wouldn't simply be a sexy fluke. She was in my life now, even more than just because our kids were getting married. And I wasn't about to give this up anytime soon.

Six months later we sat in the front row as our daughters got married. We were holding hands and though I remember crying during that wedding, I was really a mess when I said my vows with Georgia the following year.

As palace servants carried away his heavy trunk, Kaeth stood in the doorway of the sparsely furnished tower room and took a final look around. Stripped of any personal effects, the space looked dank and uncomfortable, more like the prison it had actually been. He still found it hard to believe he had been able to tolerate such a depressing environment for three seemingly endless years.

Today, at last, he was leaving.

He heard the footfall of soft-soled boots and turned as Prince Elvar came up behind him. Creegan, the grizzled knight who served as Elvar's personal attendant and bodyguard, followed at a respectful distance.

"Hard to believe, is it not?" Elvar asked with a sigh. "Three years passed like a single day."

Though the opposite had been true for Kaeth, he dared say nothing to annoy Elvar—not when release loomed so close.

"Still, the treaty has at last been ratified, and for that we must be thankful, as my father is. Yet I will miss seeing you about the palace. To me, you were never my father's hostage, but my friend."

"I thank you, your highness. I cannot deny that your companionship has made my captivity far more bearable."

Prince Elvar's dark blue eyes narrowed just a fraction. Kaeth assumed he was hoping for a more enthusiastic declaration. However, Kaeth had never believed in lying, even though it might have made his life easier at times. He had no plans to begin now.

"Is the ship ready?" he asked in an attempt to redirect the conversation.

"Nearly so." Elvar's mood lifted. He almost seemed to be suppressing a smile. Kaeth knew not what to make of these strange shifts in behavior. "As it happens, I have some news for you that I hope you will welcome, Kaeth. You shall not be traveling to the Academy alone—I am going with you!"

Elvar's pleasure was obvious when Kaeth's mouth dropped open. "But your highness, how can you leave the palace? Surely you have responsibilities here!"

"Please. My duties here involve amusing myself in whatever way suits me at the time. Besides, my father the king has no objection to my going. Is there a reason you should?"

"Not at all, your highness! I only thought myself an exceedingly poor excuse for a man in your position to give up the comforts of home and undertake an arduous journey. I am but a lowly hostage with no castle or fortune of my own to return to. I could hardly reward you for your efforts once we arrive."

"Nonsense!" Elvar grasped his hand and squeezed his fingers. Kaeth was surprised and a tad uncomfortable. Never, in the three years he had dwelt at the palace, had Elvar been so open about his affections, even if his eyes did sometimes betray his true wishes. "You are a great ambassador's son! And we are friends, are we not, after all this time together? As for the travel itself, you may see it as burden. On the contrary, I look forward to the excitement."

"Of course." Kaeth blushed as his own lack of gratitude. Elvar had indeed helped dispel the loneliness of being so far away from everything Kaeth knew and cared about. Elvar may also have kept him alive in a literal sense, for Kaeth recalled all too well the political hostility his presence had helped to defuse. "I'm glad we will be traveling together."

"As an added boon, we will have Creegan to protect us. I can assure you, no brigands or pirates will reach us as long as he stands alongside us with his sword at the ready."

"I am relieved to hear it."

Elvar dropped his hand, and clapped Kaeth on the shoulder. "Let us go aboard, then. We will settle ourselves in our cabins. You shall have your own, by the way, as you are no longer a prisoner but an honored guest."

"Many thanks, you highness." Tears started into Kaeth's eyes.

"Thanks are not needed." Elvar, mistaking the source of his emotion, smiled. Kaeth forced himself not to dwell on the profound sense of loss he knew he would experience when he walked through the gates of the Academy after so long an absence. At least he was finally going home.

*~*~*

Jerel was bent over his worktable, his fingers wet with ink and his mind entirely absorbed in the antiquated manuscript he was translating when Merwyn, his apprentice, rushed into the library.

"Master Jerel, have you heard the news?" he cried, waving a small ribbon-bedecked scroll.

"How could I have, when you are keeping it to yourself?" Jerel suppressed an amused smile. Merwyn's perpetual enthusiasm could be annoying at times, but in general he found it endearing. Jerel himself was too often given to melancholy and even sullenness, so Merwyn's cheer provided a balance. He held out his open palm to receive the missive.

"I thought the news might have carried faster than my feet," Merwyn said as he handed it over. "The whole Academy is twittering like a flock of birds."

"I have been absorbed in my work here for several hours. I have had no time to attend to gossip."

"'Tis not gossip, Master Jerel. 'Tis fact. The proclamation was stamped by the emperor himself and delivered by his own envoy."

Frowning, Jerel unrolled the length of parchment. At first, he had supposed Merwyn had brought him a rare book, perhaps discovered in some dusty and underused room. Yet he saw now that it was of modern origin—the sort of announcement that seldom arrived at the Imperial Academy. Here, scholars and students dwelt in the past and sometimes speculated about the future, but all tended to ignore the present.

"Do you see what it says?" Merwyn prodded before Jerel had even had time decipher the first lines of intricate lettering. "He's coming back. Kaeth, the diplomat's son. You remember the story. The Emperor offered him as a willing hostage when King Scurlock accused him of plotting war. If the Emperor attacked, the king could kill—"

"Aye," Jerel cut him off in a stern voice. "Of course I remember. 'Twas not so very long ago."

"Ah, but of course you knew him. Pardon me, Master. In my excitement over the news, I forgot."

Jerel's frown deepened when he realized that Merwyn wasn't really asking him about Kaeth — he was testing. Jerel composed his face so that it revealed no trace of emotion.

"He was a student here. As I was then."

"I do believe you mentioned that once." Merwyn bent his head and plucked at a loose thread on his tunic. "You were friends?"

"You could say so."

"Apparently you will have a chance to renew your acquaintance. They are setting sail even as we speak. He is coming here directly. We are closer than his father's castle, I assume."

"So it would appear." Jerel scanned the document.

"His father, the ambassador, will come with his entire retinue," Merwyn rambled on. "We'll have quite the ceremony. Bound to enjoy a delicious feast, too. I can hardly wait!"

Jerel finished reading, rolled up the scroll, and handed it back to Merwyn. "Very well. The contents confirm all you have said. You may store this in the appropriate rack. Is there anything else? I was quite busy when you came in."

"I regret disturbing you, but I thought you would want to know. See you at dinner?"

Forcing himself to appear nonchalant, Jerel nodded. "You will. We can talk more then. I am keen to discuss the manuscript I have been translating. In fact, I should like your opinion on one or two matters." He was gratified to see Merwyn brighten at the compliment. "Thank you for bringing me the news. You know I value your assistance. I am lost to the world when I am absorbed in my scholarship."

Left alone again, Jerel picked up his quill and tried to return his attention to the scroll. Before long, he had to put it down as his vision blurred and his mind filled with dark clouds. He couldn't even feign interest in the translation now.

So Kaeth would be returning. It gave Jerel some gratification to reflect on how much he would find changed in his long absence. No longer was Jerel the impoverished illegitimate son of a knight and a merchant's daughter, working as an amanuensis in exchange for his education. Now he was Chief Archivist, the well-paid protector of the Academy's vast store of written knowledge, and respected as a scholar in his own right. The books he had admired and loved from his youth were now his in every way that mattered. If he made certain overtures, he suspected, Merwyn could be his, too.

Why did all of that pale next to the memory of Kaeth in his arms, soft lips pressed against his? Even then, he had known their union would end badly. A great ambassador's only son would never seek his future with a mere scholar, not with the promise of a fine diplomatic career of his own. Who couldn't have seen that Jerel was destined for heartbreak?

He just hadn't realized it would come so soon after they had found one another.

Jerel slammed his fist on the desk, making his open bottle of ink jump. Thankfully, none of it spilled on his work. Like all scholars, on occasion he did prefer to dream of the past, but this could not be one of those times. He was no longer a student, and he was no longer a silly youth with a too-open heart. In fact sometimes he doubted that any of his heart remained at all.

For now, at least, he preferred it that way.

*~*~*

Kaeth stood on the deck of the ship as it plunged relentlessly toward land, his old land. He drew his cloak around himself as his eyes searched the inky sky.

"I have always been told the sea air is not healthy at night," Elvar said as he moved to lean on the rail beside him. "I hope you will not take a chill. A fine homecoming that would be—you trapped in the infirmary while your father entertains us on the emperor's behalf."

"I shall be fine." Kaeth turned his head and spotted Creegan standing just out of sight behind the mast, as faithful as Prince Elvar's own shadow. "I have stood stargazing on many a night colder than this."

Elvar's voice tightened. "I presume you mean at the Academy."

"Yes. 'Twas part of my philosophical training. My favorite part, though it often involved a bit of discomfort. You see, on cold nights the lights show up more clearly. One can discern the patterns more readily." To demonstrate, he pointed at the sky and zigzagged his finger through the air. "Do you see the Cluster of the Dragon? The other stars arrange themselves around it. Their relative positions convey messages to those who know how to interpret them."

"Yes. I see." Elvar's gaze drifted upward as well. "And can you read them?"

Kaeth felt his cheeks grow warm despite the chilly wind. "I can only try. Usually their meaning eludes me, I am sorry to say. Yet I maintain hope that one day I will learn their language."

"Is it not possible you put too much faith in the sky? I mean, in the end it is just another variety of fortune-telling. Is it not better to simply let life happen as it happens?"

"I daresay many agree with you," Kaeth admitted. "Yet others insist our fortunes have been destined, our futures laid out above us like a map. I cannot help but believe that if we could read this map, we would know what to expect on the next leg of life's journey. Surely you would agree that we would have a great advantage if so."

"Then this is about your return to the Academy. I might have guessed." Elvar reached out and gave Kaeth's forearm a comforting squeeze. "Do not be nervous. You need not fear our reception, I promise you. Diplomatic relations are not what they were at the time of your… departure. I understand the Emperor is sending a contingent of his own knights to meet us when we touch land. The Chancellor of the Academy has likewise been informed that we are both to be regarded as diplomatic guests, with all the attendant protections and courtesies. And, on a personal level, you know I shall take no chances." He tilted his head toward the mast. "Creegan will guard us and defend us to his last breath if the need arises. We will be together and we will be safe. That I promise you."

In truth, Kaeth was more troubled than relieved by the pronouncement. Was Elvar implying that once they reached the Academy, they would have to share a room? A bed? Surely Elvar would not be so bold as to flout diplomatic conventions, much less imply that Kaeth had spent even part of his captivity in sexual servitude?

"I suppose my father will meet us there?" he managed to ask, not wishing to dwell on disconcerting details. The prospect of facing his father again, though not exactly relaxing, seemed less nerve-wracking.

"That is the plan, assuming he is not delayed. He will be traveling by land, of course, which takes more time and effort than sailing."

Kaeth nodded. The Emperor had deliberately established the Academy near a seaport to enable easy access for distinguished visitors and foreign scholars—but not so easy that invaders could raid the collections of rare books and great minds residing there. He was glad they would have knightly escorts in the off-chance brigands lurked about the woods.

"Rumor has it that the Academy is planning a great entertainment to celebrate your return. That was one reason I wanted to come with you. I didn't want to miss a moment of it."

"I cannot blame you for that," Kaeth said. "The Academy staff should indeed entertain us well." Privately, he wondered where his father would fit into the larger picture, for he was known through the kingdom as a serious man who frowned on such frivolities, even in the name of diplomatic relations.

"I daresay Creegan will enjoy the festivities, too," Elvar went on with great cheer. "He has few pleasures in his line of work, though it cannot be avoided, I suppose. Do you hear, Creegan? You are in for a treat."