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It took a few seconds and what felt like an eternity of bewilderment before Yandro realized they’d passed through a concealed opening in the wall. What had looked like a hanging tapestry akin to those that graced the various corridors of the manor was actually a door covered with a woven fabric. It would not pass close inspection, but since there was no reason for anyone to start examining every tapestry and the lighting was very poor, the camouflage was sufficient.
Jareth closed the door and bolted it just as the sounds of their pursuers neared.
They held their breaths as the heavy tread of passing soldiers resounded loudly inside the room. Only when the sounds of outside activity faded to silence did they relax and take stock of their location.
Yandro wondered what purpose the chamber served. It was a large space, empty but for an old bedstead wide enough to accommodate two people. There was just one window, which appeared to be the room’s source of ventilation and light. Its shutters hung slightly ajar from loosened hinges dull with tarnish. The only adornment was a decorative screen against one wall, the design on it faded and further obscured by grime. Indeed, dust powdered the floor and cobwebs hung in the corners of the ceiling.
Jareth gingerly opened one shutter and looked out. He glanced back at Yandro, an expression of amazement on his face.
“We’ve come back to the manor front,” he said. “The courtyard is just below us.”
“I suspected that was the case,” Yandro muttered as he took a look as well. “I recognized a few of those corridors back there.”
They had a clear view of the lowered moat bridge as well and the shadowed plain before the estate. The mountains of Laetro were also visible though in the dark of the night, they were little more than vague shapes in the distance.
Yandro inspected the walls of the room with curiosity. He touched the wall beside the window and said, “Did you notice, Dyhar? The stonework here is the same as in the corridors outside, but the other walls are made of brick. This room was belatedly added as was the staircase and passage here; the floors are uneven and the walls feel unfinished. There was probably a large open space here once or maybe a wide hallway which was tapered so this room could be added.”
Jareth nodded. “This is probably a trysting hole,” he remarked.
“A what?”
“There was a time quite long ago when extramarital affairs were frowned upon. This was especially the case amongst the ruling aristocracy due to the fear of bastard progeny.”
“Was this when the inheritance laws did not bar by-blows from the succession?”
“Yes. But some nobles simply couldn’t remain faithful, particularly if they were wed to Deira they didn’t care for. Thus the creation of trysting holes. Only the lovers knew where they were. If it wasn’t possible to meet outside, they would use these chambers instead. Notice how secluded this room is? This is probably one of the least visited sections of the manor if it is at all. I wager our pursuers just discovered it themselves.”
Jareth looked at the screen with narrowed eyes. “And if I’m right, there should be a passageway that would connect to the lord of the manor’s bedchamber so he wouldn’t be seen as he kept his assignation.”
He pushed aside the screen to reveal a plain wooden door. It was apparently barred on the other side, however, for it did not budge when they pushed it. From the rust encrusted on the hinges, it appeared the passage had not been used in a long time either.
“I can understand the soldiers not being aware of its existence,” Yandro commented, taking care to keep his voice down. “But surely Xeren would know his own manor well, including secret passages and rooms.”
“Not necessarily,” Jareth replied. “This is dower property and therefore only came into his possession when Anri passed away. It will revert to the Hamaras when he dies. In any case, Xeren is a lover of comfort and luxury. This country is likely too rugged for his tastes. He wouldn’t come here often, so it’s highly probable he’s never bothered to thoroughly explore the estate.”
Footsteps resounded once more outside. Yandro flinched when the ambassador’s voice seemed to echo noisily in the room. He looked nervously at the camouflaged entrance, half expecting soldiers to start pounding on the door.
“Shouldn’t we keep our voices down, Dyhar?” he urgently whispered. “They might hear us.”
Jareth shook his head. “No sound will reach them. Not while my shields hold.”
Yandro stared at him in confusion. As far as he knew, gifted enyra could throw up shields to garble or obscure conversation. But to actually keep sound from escaping? That was beyond extraordinary. What was Jareth exactly?
Before he could voice his question, his wound throbbed severely and he clapped a hand over it with a wince. The movement caught Jareth’s attention and his gaze fell on Yandro’s arm, the sleeve now blood-soaked to the elbow.
Jareth was upon him in two strides, eyes flashing with fury. He reached for the clasps on Yandro’s tunic and started to undo them with visibly shaking hands.
“What did you think you’d accomplish back there?” he snarled. “Throwing yourself in front of me— You could have been killed!”
Yandro jerked out of reach and glared at him. “I told you, I didn’t care to have your death on my conscience,” he shot back. “And besides, better me than you, Dyhar.”
Jareth’s eyes widened in incredulity. “Are you mad?”
“Not in the least.” Yandro shrugged. “I’m expendable, whereas you aren’t.”
He waited for Jareth’s expected tart response. Instead the ambassador reached for his tunic clasps once more, his mouth a tight thin line that indicated he was struggling to keep his temper. When Yandro tried to stop him from unfastening his tunic, Jareth slapped his hands away and glowered at him warningly.
“I have to check your wound,” he snapped. “Now do yourself a favor and cooperate with me!”
Yandro flushed from a mixture of indignation and embarrassment that he’d thought Jareth was trying to disrobe him for another, admittedly improbable reason. He allowed the ambassador to pull the tunic off him.
At Jareth’s order, he gingerly sat on the edge of the bedstead beside the ambassador, not quite trusting the decrepit piece to hold up under their combined weight. The ambassador settled beside him. He widened the tear in Yandro’s sleeve until the wound was completely exposed.
Jareth examined the gash. It was deep and somewhat ragged around the edges and more painful than Yandro would let on. The ambassador regarded him thoughtfully and then nodded as if deciding on a course of action. He placed a hand on the injury and closed his eyes. After a few heartbeats, Yandro felt the pain decrease to a tolerable level. And when Jareth removed his hand, blood no longer seeped out in a steady stream, but had slowed to a trickle.
Yandro stared at him in awe. “I thought only healers could stanch wounds and the like,” he said.
“You’re right, only healers can do that,” Jareth agreed. “I didn’t stanch it completely, only lessened the flow. Can’t have you bleeding to death, can we?”
He pulled out his knife and, to Yandro’s shock, cut a wide strip of fabric from his cloak hem.
“What are you doing?” Yandro softly exclaimed. “You’ll ruin it!”
“I already have,” Jareth pointed out. He proceeded to bind Yandro’s injury with the strip. “We make do with what we have on hand.”
Yandro swallowed and then nodded. “Thank you,” he whispered.
Jareth glanced up at him and then lowered his eyes to his task once more. “You aren’t expendable,” he unexpectedly said. “Don’t you see how much you’re needed? How much I need you?”
When Yandro returned him a baffled gaze, he continued. “Look, the more I strengthened my mental gifts, the weaker what empathic skills I possessed grew. But in this profession, the discernment of feeling is as important as thought. Why think you did Rohyr arrange for you to become my aide? Your talents complement mine perfectly.”
He placed his hands on Yandro’s shoulders and shook him slightly. “Damn it, Yan, you aren’t dispensable the least bit! Don’t ever say it again. Don’t even think it.”
His voice was tinged with such pain and reproach, it almost left Yandro speechless.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to distress you,” Yandro finally replied.
“Why are you apologizing?” Jareth countered. “If anyone should be begging for forgiveness, it is I.”
“Why should you—”
“You were never second choice to me,” Jareth cut in. “From the first instant I laid my eyes on you, I swore I would have you somehow. I’ve never felt this way before with any of my previous aides or staffers. You can’t imagine how I annoyed I was when Rohyr warned you against entering into any involvement with me.”
Yandro stared at him. “So you did want to bed me from the start,” he slowly said, not certain whether to be elated or dismayed.
“Among other things,” Jareth admitted with brutal honesty. “When Rohyr informed me that you would become my aide, I told him I expected someone who would render me utter loyalty. What I didn’t expect or believe possible was that I would want you as well. But it isn’t your body alone I’ve come to desire. I enjoy your company. I yearn for it all the time. You’re the only Deir whose constant presence I seek outside of my kin.”
“I don’t understand,” Yandro murmured. “That isn’t how it appeared to me much of the time.” He looked challengingly at Jareth. “I mean, what of Gawyn?”
Jareth grimaced with what seemed like chagrin. “I won’t deny I care about Gawyn,” he said. He hesitated when Yandro flinched and tightened his mouth. “I... knew him. We were wed to each other once upon a time.”
The revelation shocked Yandro into silence for several heartbeats. “You what?” Ignoring the pang of jealousy that smote him, Yandro forced his attention on the absurdity of the statement. “How can that be? You only met when he joined the staff.”
“In this lifetime.”
“This lifeti—” Again, Yandro found himself at a loss for words. He stared at Jareth dumbfounded. “What do you— Are you-are you saying you can recall your past life cycles?” he sputtered.
Jareth dipped his chin in affirmation. “Every single one.”
After another moment of stunned silence, Yandro blurted, “That-that’s impossible!”
Exhaling, Jareth said, “Not for a templar.”
Yandro gaped in renewed shock.
The templars were inordinately gifted with the mind arts to the extent that in ancient times they were taken for spellbinders. Yandro knew their numbers were extremely small, but he had no idea who they were save for Tenryon Hadrana. He was purported to be the head of the Ylandrin templars. And the only reason this was known of him was because it was he who approached the parents of youths who exhibited the traits of born templars and asked them to relinquish their children to him for training.
Yet even that was mostly hearsay. The identities of acolytes were never made public. Yandro had traveled to all the continents of Aisen, but he had never come across a publicly known templar save those like Lord Hadrana who were charged with the training and initiation of acolytes into that most secret brotherhood.
“You-you’re one of them?” Yandro resolutely ignored Jareth’s glare of indignation. “Does Gawyn know?” he asked.
Jareth shook his head. “None other than my brother templars know.”
“Then why did you tell me?”
“Because I trust you.”
“I... see.” Yandro bit his lip. It was difficult to process everything and even harder to believe any of it. He frowned when he remembered Jareth’s confession that he and Gawyn had actually wed in a previous life cycle. “If you were wed once, it’s no surprise you still love him,” he slowly said. “Verily, why didn’t you just tell me you wanted him back? I wouldn’t have been so offended by your constant coddling of him.”
“But I don’t want him back!” Jareth flung back. “Yes, I did love him then, but I was never in love with him. Do you understand the distinction?” He explained, “Our marriage was arranged. I wasn’t really interested in wedlock, but neither was I opposed to it. When my parents informed me of their decision, I readily accepted it. I’d known him since we were lads together. We were the closest of friends. I thought marriage to him would be no hardship.”
Yandro could not help rolling his eyes over the far-fetched idea, whereupon Jareth ruefully said, “He wasn’t as obtuse as he is now, but he was dangerously naive. So easily led I was constantly fending off Deira who sought to take advantage of him. Verily, I was as much his protector as his friend. And I thought in marrying him, I could continue to protect him.” He sighed. “In the end, I failed him nonetheless.”
“What do you mean?”
“My sire fell ill soon after we wed, so I took over managing our estate and other properties. Gawyn resented the lack of attention. He couldn’t understand, couldn’t accept that I had to divide my time between him and duty. And so he looked elsewhere to entertain himself. Eventually, he believed another Deir’s blandishments and ran away with him.”
Jareth scowled. “But it turned out the blackguard was only after the wealth and properties he thought Gawyn’s family possessed. Because Gawyn was an only child and his parents elderly, the scoundrel counted on him inheriting everything before too long. He didn’t know most of those properties were collateral for substantial loans.”
Yandro caught his breath in dismayed comprehension. “Oh Veres.”
Jareth nodded sadly. “Gawyn’s family was heavily in debt to us. It was the main reason they married him off to me. My parents wanted me to produce an heir with someone whose background they approved of. Gawyn was eminently suitable. As part of the nuptial contract, his family agreed to relinquish their rights to any children of our union.”
“Hence eventually handing ownership and control of all they owned to you,” Yandro concluded.
“Exactly. When Gawyn’s lover discovered this, he left even though Gawyn had already conceived their child. His abandonment drove Gawyn to despair. He took his life soon after.” Jareth swallowed hard before continuing. “Locked himself in his room and sliced his belly open.”
Yandro grimaced. It would have been a slow and painful way to die. “So that’s why you’re so protective of him,” he muttered. After a while, he sighed and said, “Gawyn is beautiful. I can’t compare to him.”
“Because you don’t look like him?” Jareth scoffed. “There are all kinds of beauty and thank Veres for that else this would be such a dull world. You’re no less comely than he. You’re simply different. But it wasn’t merely your face and form that held me spellbound though they are most pleasing and what drew me to you initially.” When Yandro looked at him skeptically, he said, “I wish you’d believe me. I’ve spoken naught but the truth to you.”
It was Yandro’s turn to scoff. “You talk of trust, yet you don’t confide in me. What you readily tell Gawyn, you leave me to infer what I can. If I can. Tell me, why should I believe you now? Why should I put up with being shut out only to watch you open yourself so easily to another? Why should I risk myself all over again with someone who doesn’t see me worthy of his confidences? If I have any sense, I should leave you as soon as this mission is done and save myself from further grief!”
“It isn’t that you’re unworthy,” Jareth countered. He hesitated before whispering, “I was afraid.”
“Afraid of what?”
“Of letting you know enough to pass judgment on me and find me wanting.”
Yandro stared in confusion. “Why ever would that scare you?”
Jareth ran a hand through his hair in obvious frustration. “Don’t you see? If you used my confidences against me or decided I was too flawed for your liking and ended our affair...” He laughed bitterly. “What does it matter? You did anyway.”
“You’re not making sense—”
“You can hurt me, as no other can,” Jareth abruptly said. “You can break my heart. You can break me.” He winced when Yandro stared at him incredulously. “You’re right. You have every reason to leave me.” He grimly smiled. “But you won’t.”
Yandro huffed. “That’s presumptuous of you!”
“Is it?” Jareth countered. “If you don’t wish for me to know, if you truly desire to leave, you would conceal your feelings from me.” He looked at Yandro with eyes that humbly pleaded even as they seduced with their raw, crystalline beauty. “You love me, Yandro Vaidon.”
Yandro drew a deep breath. As always, Jareth had managed to read his expression. And now, it appeared he was declaring himself at last. The very thing Yandro had desired for so very long and thought beyond his reach.
Dared he take the chance and believe Jareth’s intentions? And if he did, could he withstand more hurt from this Deir if it came to that once more? He gazed at Jareth uncertainly.
“And you?” he whispered.
“With all that I am,” Jareth softly declared.
They gazed at each other wordlessly, Yandro trying to digest this unforeseen turn of events and Jareth waiting for his response. But before either could continue the conversation, the sounds of running feet and angry voices resounded through the walls once more, reminding them there was still a task to finish. They looked at each other regretfully.
“Dyhar, I think we should find a way out of our predicament and continue this discussion later.”
“Agreed.”