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Yandro awakened to the sound of voices wafting in from the sitting room. He glanced to his side and found Jareth gone. He listened a little more carefully and deduced Jareth was talking with someone at the door.
He sat up and winced at the paired twinges in his nether parts. Jareth had not been satisfied with a few bouts of reproductive intercourse. Yandro’s arse had also borne the effects of several weeks’ worth of restraint let loose in the course of one night. Another ache made itself known, but this one elicited a grin.
Yandro gently smoothed his fingers over his shaft, relishing the slight rawness that told of an unexpected indulgence. He had not taken anyone in more than a year and when presented with the opportunity had gone at it more enthusiastically than was prudent. He wondered if Jareth rued yielding himself last night. If Yandro ached from not having ridden in so long, what more Jareth, who’d never been ridden at all?
His capitulation had surprised Yandro and moved him deeply. Deira of noble blood seldom if ever played the mare, even with their spouses. If they did, it was usually because their partner was their equal in name and station.
As he had offered Jareth his first yielding, so had Jareth gifted him with his.
Overcome by joy and awe, Yandro whispered a quick prayer of thanks before getting to his feet.
He went to the bathing room, relieved himself and then washed off the evidence of their last bout of lovemaking. It occurred to him that unless he desired to get with child, he would always have to take mirash whenever they coupled. Throughout the night, Jareth had alternately buggered him and taken him genitally and been so enthusiastic about it Yandro suspected he would almost always do so from hereon.
Returning to the bedroom he found a dark blue robe slung over the footboard. As it belonged to Jareth, it was rather large for him, but the scent of his lover clung to the soft fabric. Yandro happily pulled it on and wrapped it snugly around himself.
The voices outside were more voluble now. That meant whomever Jareth had been talking to was now in the sitting room. Yandro walked barefooted to the bedroom door, opened it a crack and peered out.
Jareth stood with his back to him and facing his lover was Gawyn.
Incredulity and indignation rooted him to the spot. Was Gawyn that dense that he would disregard all the attempts to brush him off and chase after Jareth three times running? Or perhaps he was desperate judging from his appearance.
He looks terribly upset, Yandro thought. He wondered if it was only his dismissal that had wreaked such distress on Gawyn or something more.
The Deir had played the simpering innocent to ingratiate himself with Jareth and did his utmost to draw the ambassador’s attention and maybe win his affection as well. But never had he pursued him so relentlessly as to almost harass him. It seemed he could not accept that Jareth had so summarily dismissed him after having coddled him all these months.
Still, it was no excuse for him to accost Jareth so early in the morn and in his quarters. Yandro had pointedly told him he was no longer authorized to do so and to await the ambassador in his office if he still wished to talk to him. Really, this was beyond the pale. But then, when had Gawyn admitted the impropriety of his conduct?
Yandro was debating the wisdom of going to his lover’s rescue when Gawyn’s voice rose in strident protest.
“But you can’t send me away!” he passionately insisted. “You need me!”
Jareth shook his head. “I can’t for the life of me understand why you persist with that mistaken notion.”
“Mistaken? What are you saying?” Gawyn was wide-eyed as a stricken doe. “D-don’t you?”
“How many times do I have to say it? Nay, I don’t need you.”
“But you care for me, don’t you?”
“What does that have to do with—” Jareth put a hand to his forehead. “Oh, for Veres’s sake. You only happened to resemble someone I cared for. And stupidly enough, I decided to look after you as I once did him.”
Gawyn emitted what sounded like an ecstatic squeal. “I remind you of a long-lost lover?”
“Nay! You reminded me of a long-lost friend.”
“A friend...” Gawyn looked very much put out. “Well, be that as it may,” he doggedly pressed on, “I still don’t understand why you dismissed me.”
“The Maker preserve me,” Jareth said with a groan.
Yandro grinned at the exasperation in Jareth’s voice. Trying to overcome Gawyn’s combined obstinacy and obtuseness would test the limits of any sensible Deir’s patience and civility. He wondered how much longer Jareth would expend the effort.
“I dismissed you because I want only the most capable Deira on my staff,” Jareth snapped. He appeared on the verge of gnashing his teeth.
“Are you saying I’m not capable?” Gawyn gasped out in shock.
“Miracle of miracles,” Jareth sarcastically said. “He finally got the point.”
Gawyn looked as if he wanted to throttle someone. “Who fed you such a lie about me?” he demanded. “Yandro?”
Jareth shook his head. “No one lied about you. I saw for myself soon enough that you didn’t fit in with the others. But sentimental fool that I was, I convinced myself all you needed was a little push from me. Well, you certainly proved me wrong and everyone else right.”
“Right about what?”
“That I should never have cosseted you or undertaken the hopeless task of trying to educate you. And I definitely should not have put any trust in you.” When Gawyn gaped at him uncomprehendingly, Jareth scoffed. “What? You think I don’t know that you shared my confidences with the others to elevate yourself in their eyes?” Ignoring Gawyn’s guilty expression, Jareth pushed past him, stalked to the door, and yanked it open. “Get out. I don’t want my morning more ruined that it already is.”
Gawyn slowly shuffled after him, obviously still unable to believe the unhappy turn in his fortunes. Before he stepped outside, he suddenly gestured toward the bedroom door. Yandro held his breath, wondering if Gawyn had seen him.
“Is he in there?” Gawyn asked accusingly.
Jareth nodded. “He spent the night.”
“You took him to your bed?” Gawyn sneered. “You’d sully yourself with a whoreson’s touch?”
Gawyn cried out when Jareth abruptly grabbed him by the collar and hauled him up until he was barely on tiptoe.
“Forever if he’d deign to have me,” he snarled. He all but tossed Gawyn out the door. “Speak thusly of Yandro again and I promise you, I’ll personally cut out your vile tongue and feed it to the city strays.”
He slammed the door so hard the candles in the sconces on the wall on either side nearly toppled out. He turned around, running his hand through his tousled hair in subdued agitation. Taking pity on him, Yandro stepped out of the bedroom and went to enfold him in a comforting hug.
“You shouldn’t start your day with such unpleasantness,” he gently chided.
Jareth sighed and wrapped his arms around Yandro. After pressing a kiss to his temple, he said, “My fault. He looked so pitiful, I let him in. I forgot how mule-headed he can be. Not to mention persistent and stupid beyond belief.”
Yandro chuckled sympathetically. “It was particularly sweet to hear you tell him what the rest of us had been trying to pound into his head all these months.”
“Well, I don’t know if I succeeded in filling some of that empty space in his skull,” Jareth said. “But it did feel good to put him in his place. Especially after he insulted you.”
“So I heard. Thank you for defending my honor,” Yandro said, dimpling.
“No need to thank me for doing my duty to the one who owns my heart,” Jareth murmured. He wrapped an arm around Yandro’s shoulders and ushered him back to the bedroom. “Come, let’s get dressed. Our breakfast will be served here.”
––––––––
They washed up, dressed, and returned to the sitting room to find Valin supervising the serving of their breakfast.
Yandro blushed when a widely grinning Valin shook his fist at him in a congratulatory manner as he left the room. But he forgot his embarrassment when he and Jareth sat down to the sumptuous meal.
He realized all his favorite Myaren breakfast dishes were present. Sunfruit griddlecakes with honey-laced butter, boiled woodhare sausages flavored with aromatic herbs, poached eggs smothered in a piquant sauce, crusty bread fresh from the oven, a sweet-spicy berry conserve, cold citrus and manga nectar, and a pot of steaming khavi. He grinned when he saw Valin had remembered to include slices of cranapple jam rolls for Jareth.
They set to the repast, hungry after the pleasurable exertions of the night before.
“I could hardly be glad he knew so much about your preferences,” Yandro admitted as Jareth bit into a jam roll. “But seeing how much you enjoy that, I don’t mind so much now.”
Jareth suddenly glared at the half-eaten roll in his hand. He put it down with a moue of disgust.
“It was truly idiotic of me, treating him as if he were the friend of long ago. I suppose I’d hoped there was something of him from that time and I’d discover it if he told me about himself. But all it did was make me realize how much he paled in comparison to you.” He reached across the table to grip Yandro’s hand. “I would like to make amends for shutting you out the way I did.”
Yandro smiled. “I’d like that very much.” He reached over and picked up the unfinished jam roll. He took a bite and chewed it thoughtfully. After swallowing the pastry, he grinned at Jareth and said, “Small wonder you like this. It’s really good.”
He enjoined Jareth to eat his fill of his favorite childhood treat, enjoying the delight in his lover’s eyes each time he took a bite.
When they finished their meal, Jareth stood up and, taking Yandro’s hand, led him to a divan beneath the tall mullioned windows that overlooked the gardens. They'd been opened wide to let the cool morning breeze in. They half reclined on the seat, Yandro between Jareth’s legs and leaning back against him.
With his lover's arm around him and the occasional press of Jareth's lips to the side of his head, Yandro felt utterly wanted. He relaxed against Jareth, content to enjoy the morning peace and quiet with him. When a gentle flow of images started to brush his mind, it was a complete surprise.
He saw lofty mountains veiled in snow with peaks so high that some pierced the clouds above them. The range formed a semicircle which nigh enclosed a massive city that shone silver in the sun. Soaring turrets and high walls bedecked with flowering ivy, windows, doors, and even roofs adorned with stained-glass panels, and sprawling parks strewn with shady trees and lush hedges, crystalline ponds, and red-brick pathways. All contributed to the enchanting appearance of fabled Ziana. Especially as seen through a child’s eyes, Yandro realized.
In a blink of an eye, the scenic imagery segued into a view of a vast estate bordered by coniferous trees and hardy shrubbery. A three-story mansion with many balconies and open galleries lay between a spacious courtyard and front drive and the expansive lawn in back across which large colorfully plumed birds strutted arrogantly. It was a residence fit for the ruling family of Ylandre’s premier city-fief.
Two small boys, one pale-haired, the other with a head of ash-brown curls, darted out from behind some statuary and spooked the birds into scattering. The creatures’ raucous screeches and undignified retreat reduced the children to laughter. Soon a pair of Deira in servants’ smocks hurried out of the manse to usher the tots away and allow the birds to return to their leisurely strolling.
Yandro caught his breath when he realized he was seeing Jareth’s past self and the events that shaped him; not as direct memories but as Jareth remembered them and himself. His lover was certainly not wasting any time making amends to him.
Feeling a flutter of joy mixed with anticipation deep down inside, he lowered his shields and allowed Jareth to share his life stories mind to mind. He reveled in the intimacy of their silent speech and knew a thrill of satisfaction that nothing Jareth had related to Gawyn could match the depth and detail of what he now showed Yandro.
The vision changed to a great, high-ceilinged hall. The formal audience chamber in the Citadel. At the far end of it, just below the high-backed throne of black nahra, stood a cradle flanked by two tall Deira, both wearing the white-silver circlets of the Ardan and Ardis of Ylandre. A babe with sable hair and slate-gray eyes, irises rimmed with smoky blue, lay amidst the silken sheets in the cradle. Over him loomed another child a few years older, his steel-blue eyes wide with curiosity. He reached down to touch the babe’s petal-smooth cheek. He giggled when the infant grabbed a finger in his tiny hand, drew it into his rosebud mouth, and gnawed on it with his toothless gums.
The image shifted to a much-smaller chamber with a long table in its center set with ivory candelabra, elegant leather runners and fine tableware. Liveried servants stood in attendance around the four Deira seated at the table. Yandro recognized the dining hall in the Hadrana town house in Rikara. A brown-haired boy on the verge of adolescence sat on one side of the table, glumly picking at his food. He suddenly looked up in wide-eyed surprise at the older dark-eyed lad across from him.
If you don't like the fish, give it to your hunter. He's right under your chair.
Saints! You're not talking, but I can hear you!
You’re doing the same thing.
I am? I didn’t think I could. Not yet anyway.
Well, now you do. It came early to me too. And I wager you can read Aba’s thoughts without him realizing it.
What? I don't see— Oh...
And he didn’t sense your probe, did he?
But how can that be? Aba is gifted. He should have kenned I was poking around his thoughts.
He should have, but he didn’t. I think we possess something others don’t.
What?
I haven’t the faintest, but I’m going to find out. What’s bothering you, Jath?
Nothing really except... Why was Aba thinking about that? Didn't he get enough of it last night?
Why do you think Aba got enough last night?
Because Ama keeps squirming in his seat. From a sore arse I wager.
Heyas! You’re much too lewd for your tender years!
I'm only four years younger than you! And you shouldn't swear.
Oh pish! Who heard me besides you? And really, what's a bit of swearing compared to guessing those two fucked each other senseless last night?
Eww, don’t say that!
Balking at salty language? What, are you turning prudish on me now?
Nay! I just don’t like to imagine them doing that. And when you talk that way, I can’t get the image out of my head.
“Hmm, it is off-putting to imagine them thusly. Well, well, you actually make sense, little brother.”
Thank you. But, Ten?
Aye?
I'm not little anymore!
Once again, the scene shifted, this time to a softly lit room with shelf upon shelf of books, wide-necked bottles of parchment scrolls, and heavy bronze-and-pewter figurines. Yandro recognized the main study in the Ziana mansion. The two youths, now older by a few years, stood at either side of a handsome fair-haired noble. Both lads peered warily at the elderly Deir before them. The latter came forward and placed his hands on the youths’ heads as if in benediction, while the noble regarded them with immense pride.
From his childhood in Ziana to the first indications that he was inordinately gifted to the day Tenryon Hadrana’s predecessor informed the brethren’s sire that he had begotten a pair of candidates for the brotherhood, Jareth hid nothing from him. Then there were the years trying to live like an ordinary Deir (well, as ordinary as a scion of House Essendri could be) while concealing his intensive training to properly and prudently harness his gifts. Finally, he revealed his earliest days in the corps and the steady climb in rank to his present position.
Of his affairs prior to meeting Yandro, he only provided glimpses, but they were enough to make it clear there had been none who’d touched his heart as Yandro had. When the flow of memories finally ended, Yandro felt as if he had witnessed firsthand how Jareth had grown up into the Deir he loved so well.
“Thank you,” Yandro whispered. “That was so much more than I expected.”
“It’s the least I could do,” Jareth murmured, hugging him closer.
Desiring to reward Jareth’s openness with similar transparency, Yandro allowed his lover access to his memories. He revealed all the pains and struggles of his early years, but also the joys he’d known and victories he’d won as he matured and found his place in the world. He held nothing back about his years as a streetwise ward in a crowded orphanage or his days at university where he’d been constantly harassed by disdainful True Blood students. And he finally revealed the details of the incident that had exposed his gift of empathy to his mentor Keiran Arthanna.
He’d been chosen for a coveted position in the university student assembly over a number of higher ranked schoolmates. Those schoolmates, all enyra from some of the most affluent and influential families in the land, had taken offense at being bested by a mere sedyran by-blow.
Yandro had felt it then—rage vibrating against his shields. The anger was so intense the stress of throwing up protective buffers to take the brunt of it had manifested in a headache. But there had also been great fear. Not of him personally, but of the possibility of change.
These were Deira who could not conceive of having to adopt new ways and beliefs, particularly if these changes, according to their narrow worldview, diminished their privileged way of life. Yandro understood neither anger nor fear alone would move them to action, but these emotions combined were powerful enough to spur them to do violence against him.
Aware that he could not defend himself adequately without help, he’d gone to Keiran and told him what he’d sensed. Mercifully, Keiran believed him and kept track of his whereabouts so that when the anticipated assault happened, he’d arrived in time to help Yandro fend off his attackers. Cousin to both Jareth and Rohyr and brother to the Herun of Ilmaren, Keiran was an Essendri and that meant great inborn power. He’d dealt with the miscreants so efficiently, several landed in the university infirmary.
Yandro followed up that seminal event with memories of his first tedious months of employ as the lowliest of paper-pushers at the Ministry, before Rohyr intervened and arranged for his advancement. Naturally, that had displeased many a higher-born colleague who could not stomach being outranked by an impecunious clerk of dubious origins who could not afford anything better than the tiny room he rented for a pittance in the squalid south district.
During this period, the sneering asides and whispered aspersions on his character had oftentimes overshadowed the benefits of his higher wage.
His appointment as adjutant to Jareth had not stopped the spiteful talk, but it had forced his detractors to cease taunting him openly. That had been a relief and actually quite restful for now he could simply ignore them. And of course, that elevation had allowed him to purchase his pride and joy. A comfortable apartment in the east district.
Yandro did not hide his visceral attraction to Jareth during their first meeting at the Citadel or the teeter-tottering emotions he’d experienced while in service to so prominent and desirable a Deir. In utter trust, he let Jareth see the moment when he acknowledged his love for him though he held no hope of that love ever being returned.
Jareth gazed at him in awe following the revelation. “That soon?”
Yandro chuckled ruefully. “Nay, it was only when I admitted it to myself. Verily I fell in love with you very soon after I started working with you. But I feared to be cast aside if you knew. You made it clear you didn’t want more than an occasional tumble and I saw how those who sought more ceased to keep you company.” Yandro bit his lower lip. “Only Gawyn seemed immune.”
“Yet I never took him to my bed,” Jareth softly said. “As I did you and kept you even when I sensed you wished for more. Indeed, even when I wished for more. Yes, almost from the start,” he added when Yandro caught his breath in surprise. “You were irresistible then as now and try as I might, I couldn’t stop myself from falling in love. But you wouldn’t confirm you cared and weakling that I am in matters of the heart, I was terrified that mayhap I had misread you. That you would push me away and put distance between us. I knew I couldn’t bear to be parted from you.”
Yandro half turned to gaze at Jareth. “You were in love with me all this time?”
Jareth huffed a soft laugh. “I adored you, lackwit! Beyond all reason or good sense.” He pressed a kiss to Yandro’s lips, tugging gently on the lower one when the kiss ended, as was his wont. “You think me a god in our bed? I worshipped every step you made, every word you voiced, every touch you bestowed on me. And Veres help me, I still do.”
“Jath...” Yandro swallowed hard, stunned by the revelations, confirmed by the depths of feeling he espied in Jareth’s warm gaze. “Saints above, you were mine even then. If only I had—”
He twisted around and threw his arms around Jareth to kiss him with unfettered hunger. Jareth returned the caress, holding him tight and all but devouring his mouth. They were breathing hard when they parted lips. Jareth did not release him but pressed tender kisses to his forehead, cheeks, and jaw. Yandro felt the corners of his mouth curl into a smile as Jareth moved lower, to nuzzle his throat before sucking on it to mark him as his.
“Remind me to send word to Tenryon soonest,” he murmured, nibbling playfully at the smooth flesh.
“Regarding?” Yandro half moaned.
“The reservation of the Ziana temple for our use no later than the end of leaf-fall. I would have us wed as soon as possible.”
“The temple?” Yandro pulled back slightly and gazed at Jareth in confusion. “One doesn’t need a church to handfast. We can hold the rites here. It would still be legal in Ylandre.”
“I will not merely handfast to you,” Jareth retorted. “I won’t risk the possibility of you divorcing me over some quarrel or other.”
Yandro stared at him. It had never occurred to him that one so highborn and noble of name would eschew a civil union in favor of permanent wedlock with a baseborn Half Blood of indeterminate birth.
“You would take me in fane marriage then?” he softly asked, not quite able to believe Jareth desired the blessings of the church.
“More, beloved,” Jareth said. “I would soul-bind to you.”
“Holy saints,” Yandro gasped out. “You would be bound to me forevermore?” When Jareth nodded, he shook his head in disbelief. “Why?”
“To ensure you remain mine in this life and beyond.” Jareth cupped his face and held his gaze. “I’m a jealous Deir. I can’t bear to share you with another. If we don’t soul-bind now, there’s no guarantee you will wait for me when next we are born. It won’t matter to you. You’ll have no memory of this lifetime. But I will. Every single moment with you I’ll bear with me into every cycle of rebirth. I’ll search for you each time I return to this world. And if I should find you already in the arms of another before I can reclaim you... It will break me.”
Yandro gulped. Jareth looked so pained at the mere thought of it.
“If we mate our souls, we’ll always seek each other in every life cycle,” Jareth said almost pleadingly. “We’ll always be reborn to be each other’s companion until the Maker calls us to his Halls.”
“This is truly your desire?” Yandro asked in a hushed voice.
“Didn’t I say I adore you?” Jareth smoothed his thumbs along Yandro’s cheekbones. “What else must I do to convince you of my love?”
The edge of frustration in his voice convinced Yandro, as well as lashed him with guilt. He wrapped his arms around his lover and tucked his head against the side of Jareth’s neck.
“I’m more than convinced,” he whispered. He kissed Jareth’s throat and smiled when he felt the faint shiver the caress elicited. Something occurred to him then and he straightened to look at Jareth curiously. “I’ll have no memory of this lifetime, but my soul will know, won’t it?”
Jareth’s lips curled into a smile. “It will.”
His eyes riveted on Jareth’s mouth, Yandro fought the urge to kiss him breathless. “So I won’t understand why, but I shall be as racked with fury should you take any but me into your bed.” He forced his gaze up to meet Jareth’s. “It’s decided then. We will soul-mate. We’ll bind to each other in this life and every life to come. Verily, I too am a jealous Deir and I refuse to share you ever again.”
Jareth did not say a word but swept him back into his arms and bore him to the bed. They did not emerge from the chamber until the midday bells chimed. By then, Yandro’s carriage lacked his vaunted grace. But it bespoke how thoroughly he’d been claimed. And judging from his joyous demeanor, how well he’d been loved as well.