The Betrayal (40 page)

He thought this was true, but it gave him no comfort. He saw now that Eliani, having been hurt in a bond of her own choosing, might easily resent being trapped in a bond she had not sought. He silently resolved anew never to force his presence on her. He feared he might have pressed her too much already.

He closed his eyes, remembering the kisses they had shared. They might never be so close again.

Turisan?

He started, spilling tea on his sleeve. Heléri looked inquiringly at him.

“Eliani.”

“Ah. Will you excuse me?”

Without waiting for his answer, she stood up, carrying her tray of herbs away. Turisan set his cup down on the table and brushed at his sleeve.

I am here.

We have stopped at Skyruach.

I am with Heléri.

Oh.

Silence stretched between them. He wanted to reach for her, to embrace her in the only way possible at this distance. He held back.

Has she told you?

Yes.

I was going to explain to you in person when I returned.

I understand.

You are not angry?

He felt a warmth of love flood him and smiled.
I do not think I am able to be angry with you.

She seemed to withdraw a little.
You should be. I make mistakes.

We all do.

He sensed her restlessness, a feeling that took him back to Highstone and the Three Shades. He wished he knew how to reassure her.

Luruthin and I were lovers also. Before Kelevon.

Her bluntness made him smile. She seemed to wish to confess all her past. He would not bore her with a recital of his own dalliances, for they meant less than nothing.

I thought you might have been. He still cares for you.

I know. It is my fault. I failed to be clear with him. Now he is unhappy.

Eliani
—

I do not like causing pain to those I love. I do it far too often.

He wanted to take her in his arms and kiss away all her worries. She would have let him, he knew, if she were there. Instead, leagues of doubt lay between them.

I have faith in you.

He felt a ripple of emotion from her, so quickly damped that he could not tell what it was. He waited.

I should go.

Very well. I will see you when you return.

Yes.

He wanted to tell her he would think of her every moment until then. He wanted to warn her against Kelevon, but that would be folly. He could not win her trust by trying to bind her to him. He had to let her find her own path.

Spirits guard you, Eliani.

And you.

She slipped away. Turisan let his breath out slowly, then reached for his tea.

Heléri returned and warmed both their cups from the ewer. “I hope all is well.”

“She wanted to know if I had talked with you.”

“Ah.”

Turisan watched Heléri sip her tea, searching for a trace of Eliani in her features. They were very unalike, but if there was a resemblance, it was in the determination of her chin. He smiled.

“Thank you, Lady Heléri. I am in your debt.”

“We shall soon all be in your debt. Yours and Eliani's.”

He gave a small shrug. “Perhaps not. Fireshore has sent word at last.”

“There will be other calls upon you.”

He met her gaze, thinking of the kobalen at Midrange. Yes, there would be other occasions for the mindspeakers to serve their people. With some surprise he realized that he no longer doubted Eliani's willingness to serve in that way. She had accepted their gift as her fate. He knew it with certainty.

The rest was still in question. Kelevon's return might have destroyed his own chance of happiness with Eliani. Or it might, as Heléri had suggested, enable Eliani to resolve her feelings at last.

By the time Eliani's party reached Glenhallow again, dawn was spreading pale fingers into the sky. Kelevon wore a constant frown and gave clipped answers to Eliani's occasional attempts at conversation. Eliani was actually glad to see a small crowd of well-wishers gathered at the outer gate.

Turisan? We are arrived.

Welcome.

Should we go to the circle?

No, ride straight to the palace stables. My father made no announcement of your return, though it is known. The Council will be summoned when you have had time to refresh yourselves.

Eliani glanced at Kelevon.
Good. Our courier is in a sullen mood.

Why so?

The sun is near rising, and he is a night-bider.

She sensed sudden dismay from Turisan, a breath's length, no longer, before it vanished. He had hidden it quickly, but not before she felt it.

What is it?

Nothing. Bring him to the great hall. My father and I will meet you there.

Very well.

She looked back eastward. The sun was not up yet, but golden streamers were rising into the sky. She saw Kelevon draw the hood of his cloak forward to shade his face and was reminded of Heléri, who went veiled whenever she was abroad in daylight because the sun hurt her eyes.

Maybe it was so for Kelevon as well, though she did not remember his being troubled thus in the past. He had changed, perhaps. So had she.

She urged her weary mount to a trot and hastened to the stables, sparing smiles and waves for the scattered crowd that greeted her return to Glenhallow. In the stable yard, she slid to the ground with a small grunt of weariness and gave her reins to the groom who approached.

“Coddle them. They have been ridden hard.”

“Yes, my lady.”

She slung her packs over her shoulder and looked around the yard. Kelevon had stepped already into the passage that led up to the palace. She joined him in the archway, pausing to wait for Luruthin, who was talking with Vanorin.

Kelevon moved a little deeper into the passage. “You are well loved here.”

Eliani shrugged. “It is the mindspeech. They do not know me.”

“Not many do. I am not certain I ever did.”

The gentleness of his tone surprised her. She glanced at him and saw regret in his face.

“Eliani … I believe I owe you an apology.”

Within the shade of his hood his golden eyes glowed, sparking memories both fair and painful. She felt confused, not knowing if he meant to apologize for rushing them to Glenhallow or for something else.
Before she could ask, Luruthin joined them, somewhat breathless.

“Pardon my delay. I think my horse has thrown a splint.”

Kelevon's eyes snapped to glare at him. Eliani turned and started up the passage.

“Come. Lord Jharan is waiting for us.”

She led them to the great hall at the palace's center. She had not been there at dawn before, and the sight of sunlight streaming through high windows to strike the murals on the west side of the gallery, lighting them in shades of green and gold, made her pause in admiration. Beside her, Kelevon drew his hood farther forward.

Jharan and Turisan stood talking quietly in the center of the hall. Eliani approached them, and Jharan turned, smiling in greeting.

“Welcome back, Lady Eliani, Theyn Luruthin.” His gaze moved to Kelevon.

Eliani swept a brief bow. “Governor Jharan, this is Kelevon, who has come from Governor Othanin in Fireshore.”

“Welcome, Kelevon, and thank you for your service. We are glad to hear from Fireshore at last.”

Kelevon bowed and handed Jharan the letter Eliani had read. Jharan glanced at it, then indicated Turisan.

“This is Lord Turisan.”

Eliani saw Kelevon's eyes narrow as he bowed again. Turisan acknowledged him with a nod, watching him intently. Jharan addressed Kelevon. “You must be weary. Allow me to show you the rooms we have prepared for you.”

Kelevon hesitated. “You need not have troubled. A lodging in the city will suit me.”

Jharan smiled. “That is the purpose of a palace, to
accommodate visitors of state. Come, I have much to ask you.”

Jharan led Kelevon away toward the south wing, ascending the curved stairs to the gallery. Silence hung in the air for a moment, then Luruthin coughed.

“I suppose I should retire.”

Turisan turned to him. “A meal has been sent to your chambers. To yours also, my lady.”

“Thank you.”

“The Council will be summoned later in the morning.”

Eliani nodded. She felt awkward, embarrassed. Hallowhall's roof was vast, but not vast enough for her to be comfortable sharing it with so many lovers, former and would-be. Suddenly she wanted only to be alone.

“Bid you both good morning.”

She strode toward the stairs after Jharan and Kelevon. In her chamber she found a covered tray on the table by the hearth, and a bathing tub placed nearby, with ewers of steaming water and a pile of soft towels on a low table beside it. Calling silent blessings down upon Jhinani, Eliani sighed and began to unfasten her leathers.

A handful of withered flowers scattered about her feet: the goldencup—no, honeycup—that the child had given her the previous morning. She knelt to pick up one of the blooms, fingering its wilted stem. The petals were still bright, but they were only a shadow of what they had been. How fair, and how quickly faded. Like all her love affairs.

Eliani's chest tightened. She had expected to have leisure for reflection on her journey to Fireshore. Now she was back where she had been a day earlier, with the added confusion of Kelevon's presence. She felt as if she could not breathe.

She undressed and emptied the ewers into the bath, forgoing the slender, flower-shaped phial of scented salts. She hissed as she stepped into the hot water and immersed her aching body.

A day and a night in the saddle, and she was already a mess of aches and stiffness. Glenhallow had made her soft. She regretted returning, not having the journey ahead. She was not made for the idleness of living in a palace. This place, with its perfumes and promenades, was too seductive.

As was Turisan. He wanted her and would soon seek consummation with her. Eliani swallowed as she rubbed her sore muscles in the water's heat. She wanted him also, but not in her present troubled state of mind. She would only hurt him, as she had hurt every male she had touched.

What now? She closed her eyes, fighting panic. She had agreed to handfast, and now there was nothing to delay it. She was not ready.

She scrubbed her body, focusing on the flesh and trying not to think about Turisan or Kelevon or any of the questions that circled round and round in her mind. She washed her hair, using a pot of mildly scented soap that the attendant had left for her, and submerged herself to rinse it out.

Underwater her hair floated free, soft against her fingers. It reminded her of a time she and Kelevon had gone to the hot springs above Highstone and drifted together in the warm water, making love with aching slowness. It had lasted all night and had ended with a crashing peak she still vividly remembered. Her flesh tingled even now.

She came up from the water abruptly, shook her head, and wiped at her stinging eyes. Rising from the bath with a great sloshing, she stepped out and wrapped herself in a towel. She used another to rub
vigorously at her wet hair, then sat in a chair by the hearth, basking in the fire's warmth.

Why can I not be free of Kelevon?

Because it never ended, whispered a small voice within her. The thought coursed through her like the deep vibration of a summoning chime.

It was true. Her life had ceased in one way with Kelevon's departure, and she had tried to let that corner of her heart die, but here it was, pumping out blood anew through an unhealed wound.

She closed her eyes. She had tried for two de cades to avoid hurting a lover by the simple plan of having none, but even that had failed. Abstaining from involvement had not served the purpose. She must change tactics.

She must face Kelevon.

Impatient to act on the decision, she left the hearth, towels sliding to the floor as she strode across the chamber to where her trunk, still packed, sat against the wall. She opened it and pulled out the first garment she found—her blue gown—and pulled it over her head. Its loose fit seemed too informal for the Council, so she added a violet kirtle sewn with crystals from Clerestone, then dug out a pair of slippers. Donning these, she fetched her comb from her satchel and returned to the hearth while she untangled her damp hair.

She would have to find Kelevon's chambers. She wondered if the governor was still closeted with him.

She combed her hair until it was nearly dry, then threw her cloak about her shoulders and left her chambers, striding out to the arcade. The fountains below were still shaded by the palace, though the sun was well up. Drifts of chill mist occasionally reached the upper arcade. Eliani paced its length slowly, hoping for some sign of where she might find Kelevon.

A chime rang, deep and sonorous. The Council was being summoned.

Eliani glanced back toward the center of the palace, surprised and a bit irritated, for she had expected to be given more time to rest. She would have to talk with Kelevon later. He might already be in the council chamber. She reluctantly turned back.