| |
Yandro soothed his nervous steed as he waited for Tenryon Hadrana to emerge from the translocation portal that had blossomed several feet away just moments earlier. The fief-lord smiled as soon as he saw Yandro, his usually cool indigo eyes warm with the pleasure of recognition. Yandro smiled back in welcome.
He was well known to Tenryon having accompanied Jareth before to the city-fief the ambassador called home. And of course, Yandro frequented court often enough to have come across Lord Hadrana at the Citadel. Thus their greetings to each other were informal with Yandro only maintaining the basic courtesies due a ruling noble.
“How fares Jareth?” Tenryon asked as they rode into the city.
The Herun spoke with the soft burr of the northwestern territories of the kingdom. It was an attractive accent, melodious and masculine at the same time, especially when paired with the vernacular of the region.
But not everyone had the ear for speech that differed from the Crown Language in sound or content. Thus, in order to be easily understood wherever he was posted, Jareth had modified his speech. It now bore only the faintest trace of his original accent and none of the colloquial words and phrases of his home fief.
Yandro smiled. “Very well. He always manages to find activities to enjoy.”
“Oh? Have you been exploring Myare then?”
“Nay. We haven’t been able to go far afield. He contents himself with what Rovena offers.”
They were now passing through the city’s entertainment district. Tenryon looked around with a less than impressed expression. Admittedly, the offerings here could not compare with what could be found for instance in Shenze, the capital city of wealthy Asmara to the near north. Myare’s many political upheavals had repeatedly derailed the development and while the country was quite prosperous thanks to its bountiful natural resources and openness to foreign investments, its citizens were not as sophisticated or learned as the populations of the kingdom’s more stable neighbors.
“I find that hard to believe,” Tenryon said. “My brother prefers more... sophisticated pastimes than can be found here. I wonder, who helps him enjoy his leisure time?” He glanced inquiringly at Yandro, but the glint in his eyes told of a foregone conclusion.
Yandro hoped his face was not as warmly colored as it felt. “The ambassador is very resourceful, Your Grace,” he carefully said. “Boredom is an occupational hazard he’s learned to overcome.”
Tenryon regarded him thoughtfully. “I see why he sings your praises,” he remarked.
“He does?” Yandro blurted, momentarily forgetting diplomacy in his surprise. “I mean, I didn’t think myself worthy of his mention.”
“Oh, he does,” Tenryon assured him with a small grin. “In all his letters in fact. So much so his father came to me recently desiring more information on you.” His grin widened when Yandro gaped at him. “He said Jareth has never written so extensively about his previous aides and that you must be quite special or incredibly able. In any case, why think so little of yourself? I warrant anyone who’s lasted this long in my brother’s service and still maintained his high esteem is more than worthy of mention.”
The increased heat in his cheeks told Yandro his blush had deepened. Briefly bowing his head to Tenryon, he murmured, “You flatter me overmuch, Dyhar, but thank you nonetheless.”
Tenryon snorted. “I only spoke the truth.”
His expression turned into one of approval when they entered the embassy compound. The Ylandrin Ministry of Foreign Affairs had purchased the property from one of Rovena’s oldest families, now fallen on hard times. Thanks to extensive refurbishments and landscaping, the large rundown town house and its spacious grounds had been transformed into a stately chancery worthy of the embassy it housed.
Yandro escorted him into the building, led him up the wide marble stairs to the second floor and down the main hallway to Jareth’s office. He raised his hand to knock on the heavy hardwood door but paused when he heard voices from inside. They seemed raised in disagreement. Frowning, he carefully opened the door and peered inside to ascertain whether Jareth was in need of assistance. His annoyance immediately rose to the fore when he saw it was Gawyn Jareth was arguing with.
About to close the door, he stopped when he heard Gawyn’s next words.
“You would have me forego a good marriage, Jareth?”
Yandro caught his breath at Gawyn’s use of Jareth’s first name. He was even more stunned when Jareth heatedly said, “It won’t be a good marriage. I know Haral’s nature. I won’t lose you to someone like him, Wyn.”
Yandro did not know which gutted him more—that Gawyn had been permitted to address Jareth as familiarly as close kin or Jareth’s statement that he did not wish to lose Gawyn. He tightened his hold on the door handle until his knuckles turned white. He hastily released the handle and folded his arms to hide his shaking hands. He heard Tenryon clear his throat behind him. The Herun was clearly as uncomfortable about eavesdropping on a private conversation as Yandro was pained by its content.
“But Haral’s offer is the best I’ve received,” Gawyn was saying.
“Why are you so in a hurry?” Jareth asked. “You’re still very young. You have many years ahead of you to choose more wisely.”
“If there are any to choose come then,” Gawyn retorted. “Unless you can guarantee there will be other proposals as desirable, I’m inclined to accept this one.”
“Don’t rush into a decision you may rue,” Jareth countered. “Think this over carefully first. Please, for my sake.”
Yandro thought his heart would break at Jareth’s display of concern. His hurt worsened when Gawyn responded with a happy smile and a gushing reply.
“You’re wonderful to care thusly for my welfare. My gratitude knows no bounds. Whatever I decide, I truly appreciate your advice.”
“I only hope you consider it well before binding yourself so soon.”
“I promise, I’ll keep your counsel in mind.”
His thoughts in turmoil, Yandro did not pay much heed as Gawyn took his leave. He barely had time to step back before the Deir exited the office at trot, brushing past him and Tenryon. To Yandro’s dismay, he did not take the time to learn the Herun’s identity, much less acknowledge him.
“My apologies, Dyhar,” Yandro murmured as Tenryon eyed Gawyn’s retreating figure with displeasure. “He’s relatively new and still inexperienced when it comes to protocol.”
Tenryon snorted. “What he lacks isn’t experience, but good manners plain and simple.
As he agreed wholeheartedly with the Herun’s assessment of Gawyn’s conduct, Yandro did not contest it. He pushed open the door and ushered Tenryon in.
Jareth was standing at the window looking out at the embassy grounds and thus had his back to them. He did not turn around as they approached him or when Yandro cleared his throat and politely called his attention. That was a clear indication his argument with Gawyn had affected him to distraction.
Yandro sighed with irritation. He was torn between the desire to throttle Gawyn for disturbing Jareth with his personal concerns and the urge to punch Jareth for allowing Gawyn liberties he’d not seen fit to bestow on Yandro. But conscious of Tenryon’s presence, he tamped down his resentment and dutifully announced the Herun’s arrival.
“His Grace Lord Hadrana is here,” he murmured.
Jareth absently said. “Very well, bring him in.”
Yandro exchanged a look of disbelief with Tenryon. It was unlike Jareth to be so oblivious of his surroundings. Alarmed, Yandro determinedly set aside his jealousy.
He lightly laid his hand on Jareth’s arm and quietly asked, “Would you like me to reschedule your meeting with the Shaja to later this afternoon?”
To his shock, Jareth glared at him and snapped, “Don’t be absurd! That isn’t done and you well know it.” Jareth pulled away, brusquely brushing away Yandro’s hand as he did. He curtly added, “Tenryon will want rum.”
Yandro hoped his discomfiture did not show on his face. He peeked at Tenryon. The Herun was regarding him with sympathy and perhaps a little pity. Embarrassed to the quick, Yandro drew on his pride, pulled himself up to his full height, and awaited any additional instructions.
Jareth looked at him as if surprised to find him still there. He frowned and impatiently said, “Why are you still here? Go fetch us refreshments.”
“As you wish, Hadrana-dyhar,” Yandro stiffly replied.
The reversion to the overly formal address and his stony expression alerted Jareth to something amiss.
“What’s wrong, Yandro?”
“Nothing that necessitates your concern, my lord,” Yandro tightly said. He turned to Tenryon. “If you will excuse me, Your Grace, I shall have refreshments sent forthwith.
Only then did Jareth realize Tenryon was present. “I didn’t hear you enter,” he said, half his attention on Yandro as the latter left the room. “Who ushered you in?”
Tenryon’s eyebrows rose abruptly. “Yandro,” he replied, his voice sharp with disbelief.
“He did? I didn’t notice.”
“That’s glaringly obvious.”
Jareth looked at Tenryon wonderingly. “I was... preoccupied.”
“Aye, we could tell.”
“We?”
“Yandro and I.” Tenryon eyed him speculatively. “You’re not yourself, Jath. Is it because of that tiff you had with... Wyn, I believe?”
Jareth grimaced, discomfited that Tenryon had overheard the argument. “His name is Gawyn.
“I see.” He wondered why Tenryon’s mouth briefly tightened in apparent displeasure. “And has he been with your staff long?”
“A little less than a year.”
“That recent. Yet you address each other so familiarly.” Jareth looked warily at Tenryon. There was no mistaking the note of censure in his comment. “Do you always meddle thusly in the affairs of your staff?”
“Of course not!” Jareth glared at him. “I don’t meddle in their lives at all.” At Tenryon’s disbelieving expression, he added, “This was an exception.”
“Why?”
Jareth folded his arms defensively, put on guard by Tenryon’s curtness. “I know the Deir he wants to wed,” he explained. “An ambitious scoundrel with less scruples than your garden-variety sneak thief.”
Again, Tenryon’s eyebrows rose in patent reproof. “And that gives you the right to involve yourself in a staffer’s affairs... how?”
“It doesn’t,” Jareth replied with budding annoyance. “But Wyn—” He winced when Tenryon’s frown deepened. “I mean Gawyn. He welcomes my counsel, so I give it.”
Tenryon snorted. “Welcomes or solicits?”
Jareth stared at him. “You sound suspicious.”
“I am suspicious,” Tenryon corrected him. “When a junior staffer is so accommodating of his superior to the extent he allows him to intervene in his personal affairs, I suspect a desire for more than professional advancement.”
“Ten—”
“Wasn’t that the reason for your dismissal of a number of aides before Yandro was assigned to you?”
“Gawyn isn’t my adjutant,” Jareth pointed out.
Tenryon shot back, “But he likely hopes to take Yandro’s place and perhaps more.”
“It’s rather unfair of you to impute that motive to him without proof,” Jareth retorted. “And even if you’re right, it won’t happen.”
“So you say. Yet Yandro seems to believe it’s all but a done deal.”
“Why should he?” Jareth scoffed. “And what makes you think he does?”
Tenryon rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Sweet Veres! Didn’t you notice his reaction earlier? He was obviously distressed by your intervention in Gawyn’s choices. And he’s certainly far from pleased that you’ve allowed a fairly new staffer to address you by name. It leads one to suspect you deem Gawyn special and above the others.”
“That’s ridiculous!”
“Oh? Then Yandro has permission to address you thusly as well?”
“He already does,” Jareth testily replied, wishing the conversation would end.
“In public?” Tenryon’s eyes gleamed with reproach. “Or only when he lies beneath you?”
Jareth nearly choked on his brother’s bald assertion. “That’s hardly your business, Ten!” he snapped.
“Only when he warms your bed then,” Tenryon said, his voice now chilly with disapproval. “Small wonder he takes offense at this Gawyn’s manner with you. And you did naught to reassure him though he took the high road and tried to comfort you. Yet still you completely disregarded his concern for you.”
“What in Aisen are you talking about?”
“He saw you were troubled and he sought to console you. But you brushed aside his help like so much chaff and even chided him for the effort.”
Jareth caught his breath. Had he been that oblivious to Yandro’s attempts to give comfort? “Oh, Veres,” he whispered, staring at Tenryon in dismay. “Where has he gone?”
“I believe he’s following your order to fetch refreshments for us,” Tenryon replied. He shook his head when Jareth stared at him in uncomprehendingly. “Saints, Jath, where are your wits today? Not to mention your much-vaunted observational skills.”
Jareth swallowed. “What did I miss?” he asked apprehensively.
Tenryon sighed. “I dare say he’s jealous. As I would be were I in his shoes. That begs the question though. Has he the right to be?” He looked at Jareth searchingly. “Or should the question be, did you lead him to believe he does?”
Silence reigned for several fraught moments. Jareth looked away, the miasma of guilt rising from his belly to almost choke him.
“Both it seems,” he finally said. He winced when he glanced at Tenryon and saw his incredulous expression.
“How can it be both?” Tenryon asked.
Jareth flinched at the hardness in his voice. Tenryon seldom spoke to him that way and only when he believed Jareth had done something particularly unworthy.
“I did lead him to believe I wanted more than an occasional tryst,” he admitted, shame making his voice rough. “I knew the only reason he would agree to an affair with me would be if he believed I had feelings for him.”
“You duped him into having an affair with you?” Tenryon almost spat.
“Only if the reason was false,” Jareth quickly said.
Tenryon stared at him. “So it became true? Just when did it cease to be false?”
Jareth sighed. “Do you deem me so changed that you think me capable of dishonorable conduct?”
“In truth, I’m not sure,” Tenryon said. “Your behavior today... It’s so unlike you. Why?” He stepped closer and cupped Jareth’s face in his hands. “What is Gawyn to you that you’ve let him affect your judgment, your very demeanor? And to the detriment of one I’d thought dear to you.” He forced Jareth to meet his gaze. “You’ve never hidden anything from me, brother. I beg of you, don’t start now.”
Jareth exhaled and then nodded. He lowered his shields and let Tenryon into his mind.
It took mere seconds for the fief-lord to learn what he sought. Tenryon looked at him with wide eyes, incredulity warring with sympathy in his expression.
“Deity’s blood!” he softly exclaimed. “Did you ken him at once?”
“Yes.”
“No wonder you—” Tenryon shook his head. “Nonetheless, you shouldn’t hearken to what’s been done. There’s no changing the past.”
“I know that!” Jareth closed his eyes. “But I failed him once,” he whispered. “I don’t want to fail him again.”
Tenryon sighed. “I understand. Believe me, I do. But you mustn’t let the past rule you. That is a ruinous path to take and not only for yourself.” He softly added, “Or was I mistaken in believing him dear to you?”
Jareth took a deep breath. “You’re not mistaken.” He pursed his mouth. “I hope it isn’t too late to make amends.”
“If his heart is true, it will never be too late,” Tenryon gently said.
––––––––
The Herun only stayed the night. He’d come for a quick visit, as was his wont when his brother was posted relatively nearby, and incidentally to have Jareth affix his signature and seal to documents for a transaction involving property the brethren jointly owned. He left Rovena the following day after the midday meal. As most of the embassy staff were out and about, the premises were largely deserted. It was therefore possible to open a translocation portal on the embassy grounds largely unobserved.
Tenryon was one of the scant handful of gifted Deira who could translocate with such precision that there was no danger of blowing anything or anyone up if he opened a corridor in the heart of a densely populated area. But as with all responsible adepts, he preferred not to do so too often and particularly when he might be observed or even merely suspected of it and perhaps encourage the less skilled to attempt the feat. Thus his decision to alight from the portal on the fields before Rovena.
Before he entered the corridor in the chancery courtyard, he counseled Jareth to set things right with Yandro soonest.
“It would be a pity were he to lose faith in you now,” Tenryon said. “A more devoted Deir I haven’t seen before.”
“And a greater fool than your brother you’ve never known either,” Jareth muttered.
“Don’t waste time castigating yourself, Jath. You haven’t the luxury if his response yesterday is any indication of his anger.”
“That’s hardly encouraging. What if he refuses my apology?”
“He won’t. Take heart, brother. He cares about you.”
They embraced briefly and then Tenryon mounted his steed. With one last backward glance and smile at Jareth, he disappeared into the yawning portal and was gone. Jareth slowly walked back into the embassy, mulling over his next course of action.
He did not get the time he hoped for to think about what to do. As soon as he reentered the building, Yandro approached him and said, “The Internal Affairs Minister has sent word that he will come here this morn to meet you. It appears he believes our grounds more secure than the Ministry halls.”
Jareth snorted. “So he finally admits his failure to root out the spies amongst his people. The Shaja would do well to replace him soonest.”
“Gossip has it that’s indeed the case. It’s likely the reason he wishes to meet with you.”
“As if I have anything to do with His Majesty’s choices of officials.”
“Likely he’s learned enough of your previous assignments to conclude you have much influence with the higher-ups of every government.”
“Ministers and the like, yes. What makes him think I can interfere in a monarch’s business?”
“I would guess the rumored results of your supposed interference in many a head of state’s business.”
As they neared Jareth’s office, they fell silent. It seemed companionable enough, Jareth thought. And Yandro had conversed with him as if nothing untoward had occurred between them the day before. Perhaps it would not be difficult to gain his aide’s forgiveness and regain his goodwill.
He caught Yandro by the elbow as the latter moved toward his desk. Yandro looked at him inquiringly.
“Come inside,” Jareth said. “I think we should talk.”
For a moment, he thought Yandro would balk or at least ask what there was to talk about. But after a few tense seconds, Yandro nodded and followed him.
When Jareth bolted the door behind them however, he immediately protested.
“I don’t want anyone walking in on us while we talk,” Jareth said.
Yandro shook his head. “But it might give rise to gossip.”
“I don’t care.”
Yandro’s eyes flashed warningly. “But I do. May I remind you, I have much to lose should it be confirmed that I’ve been carrying on an affair with my superior.”
Jareth stared at him, noting the hardness in his voice and the flicker of real anger in his eyes. He gritted his teeth, then dipped his chin in acquiescence and unlocked the door once more. He spun on his heel and walked to his desk. But instead of moving behind it, he perched himself on its edge. He gestured to Yandro to take one of the chairs before the desk.
Yandro pursed his lips, but he did as he was bid. Jareth shifted his position so he partially faced his aide. He wondered if he had ever felt so uncomfortable with Yandro before.
“Yan, about yesterday,” he began. Yandro did not meet his gaze and looked at a spot on the desktop instead. “I didn’t mean to snap at you. I was upset, and I let it get the better of me. But that’s no excuse to speak thusly to you and for that I apologize.”
Still Yandro made no response by look or word. Jareth frowned. He was at a loss as to what he could say or do to get a reaction from him.
“If it bothers you that Tenryon was present, rest assured it wasn’t you who came away lacking in his eyes,” he ventured. “He gave me quite an earful after you left.”
Yandro looked at him sharply, incredulity clear in his gaze.
“For what did he reproach you?”
The question took Jareth aback. He considered his answer, realizing the truth would be displeasing to Yandro. But were he to offer anything less than the truth, his guilt would betray him. Yandro would sense it and know his reply for prevarication or falsehood and that would be unforgivably insulting to him.
“My churlish response to your offer of help for one,” he finally said.
“For one?” Yandro eyed him curiously. “What else did he cite?”
“Letting Gawyn affect me enough to behave uncharitably toward you.”
Yandro scowled at the mention of Gawyn. “And?”
Jareth hesitated and then said, “He chided me for giving you cause to be jealous.”
“Jealous...” Yandro narrowed his eyes. “What made him think that?”
“You couldn’t hide your displeasure when you learned I’d given Gawyn leave to address me by name,” Jareth softly explained.
“Damn it all.” Yandro exhaled. “I’d hoped he hadn’t noticed.”
“Was he right then?” Jareth murmured, lifting a hand to touch Yandro’s cheek. But he stopped when the gesture was met with an unwelcoming stare. He clenched his hand and lowered it to his lap. “Were you jealous of Gawyn?”
Yandro looked away. “Envy is such an ugly emotion,” he muttered. “And fruitless since naught ever comes of it. Not for the likes of me. I thought I’d learned by now.”
Jareth gazed at him frowningly. “Learned what?”
“That people like me should content ourselves with the scraps thrown our way,” Yandro said in a hard, hushed voice.
“That’s nonsense,” Jareth protested in shock.
“Not at all,” Yandro retorted. “I’ve been taught that lesson more times than I care to recall. Deira like me ought to know better than to aspire to that which has already been claimed by others of greater standing.”
Jareth scoffed and shook his head in denial. “That isn’t true.”
“How is it untrue when all my life I’ve had to wait for someone to decline what I wanted or first fail to earn it in order for me to gain it?” Yandro challenged. “Do you think I don’t know a half-dozen Deira of high birth came before me? Verily, you accepted my appointment only upon Rohyr’s insistence.”
“I didn’t know you,” Jareth pointed out. “I didn’t realize how well you suited the position.”
“Because I’m just a Half Blood by-blow with naught to my name but an Ardan’s recommendation,” Yandro bitterly said. “Entirely reasonable. Don’t worry, Dyhar, I don’t hold that against you. After all, I’m quite used to being second choice.”
“Now hold on, I don’t think you’re—”
Yandro cut him off and barreled on with his tirade. “But I’m heartily tired of being deemed fit to be little more than a lowly substitute for others!” he snapped. “Even unto your choice of personal doxy. Well, you had best look for a new bedmate because, by Veres, I’m done with being a mere consolation prize!”
“Deity’s blood, you were never—”
There was a polite rap on the door. Jareth called out impatiently, demanding the reason for the interruption.
Valin’s voice came through hesitantly. “The Minister of Internal Affairs is here, Your Excellency.”
Yandro got to his feet and would have gone to open the door. But Jareth shook his head and said, “Let him wait.”
Yandro’s eyebrows rose in disapproval. “It’s you who impressed the importance of doing one’s duty on all of us,” he reminded Jareth.
“Don’t! Not now,” Jareth said, hating the desperation in his voice. “We aren’t done yet.”
“We are,” Yandro firmly replied. “There isn’t anything more to discuss. But rest assured I will continue to serve you to the best of my abilities.”
Jareth gazed at him unhappily when he realized Yandro would not change his mind. It was clear he had fallen far in his lover’s esteem. Heartbreakingly clear. His shoulders slumped as the enormity of his loss registered in full.
Perhaps Yandro saw the extent of his dismay for he sighed and softly said, “Just not in private. I don’t think it will benefit either of us to continue our liaison. You don’t want the same things from it as I. And I’m obviously not enough to meet all your needs.”
If Jareth had thought his cause a lost one, the quietly stated grievances all but set his fear in stone. It was clear Yandro would not believe him if he protested or denied his contentions. And he’d failed at the one thing that would have ensured Yandro’s desire to continue their affair. Nothing else he offered would have the power to tempt him into coming back.
He felt the sting of tears. Heyas! He had not wept since his sire’s passing so many years ago. But he refused to break down now. Summoning all his pride he swallowed his tears and met Yandro’s questioning gaze.
“I can hardly fault you for that. You can’t share your bed with someone you’ve learned to hate,” he said, his voice catching as he uttered the last word.
Yandro’s eyes widened. “I don’t hate you. I could never—” He took a deep breath and said, “I did come close to it yesterday I won’t deny it. But now... Now I just want to go back to the way things were. When I didn’t constantly wonder if I pleased you or-or fool myself with false hopes.” Jareth winced at his words, but kept silent. He deserved Yandro’s distrust and more. His erstwhile lover’s gaze turned pleading. “Please, Dyhar, try to understand. I just need...”
“Time and space away from me,” Jareth flatly finished for him. “You needn’t beg, Yan. If it’s your wish, consider it granted.”
He slowly stood up, moving as if the weight of the world was upon his shoulders. He’d never felt so tired and hollow before. He suspected he looked as crestfallen as he felt. With a supreme effort, he set his despondence aside and forcibly donned the professional demeanor of his calling.
When he was certain he had his expression and manner under control, he motioned to Yandro to open the door and usher in the Minister.
Yandro obeyed, but as he walked to the door, he glanced back over his shoulder. Jareth did not know if he was aware of it, but worry was clearly etched in his aide’s face.
It was a little thing in comparison to Yandro’s expressed disappointment in him, but for Jareth that gleam of concern in Yandro’s eyes was enough.
Hope sparked anew in his breast. His heart lightened just a bit.
Perhaps he had lost the present battle. But if his brother was right, if his instincts were true, there was still a reasonable chance he could win the war.
He’d never been good at accepting defeat.