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Gossip was one of the most effective and extensive sources of information Gilmael had often told him. And anyway a Medavian winter was not the time to spend outdoors unless absolutely necessary. As he passed his first winter in the domain, Zykriel experienced firsthand the unpleasantness of weather more freezing than Losshen’s cold season and blizzards to match in ferocity.
He would not soon forget slogging through knee-deep snow while in town so he could duck into a draper’s store when a sudden flurry made it impossible to get to the public stables free of frostbite. Being trapped with a veritable crowd many of whom recognized him and eyed him with varying degrees of curiosity and caution had been most uncomfortable. Better to stay warm indoors and do as Rohyr had instructed.
So Zykriel listened in on conversations all over the castle, eavesdropping even on the servants’ chatter. As his twin had promised he overheard much that he would not have learned if he relied on more conventional channels of information. Like his spouse.
Had he not been kin by marriage, Zykriel would have understood why so much was kept from him. But he was family by law and it was troubling that Qristan continued to keep secrets from him. It was as if he did not trust Zykriel which was as irksome as it was hurtful. He had not said or done anything to suggest he would betray the Shidaras to their foes. Furthermore, it was they who had practiced deception to further their own purposes.
Thus his resorting to more covert means of gathering information even Gilmael’s people had not been able to unearth due to the difficulty of gaining access to a non-allied, oftentimes unfriendly realm. Idle talk enabled Zykriel to learn of the depth of animosity between the Shidaras and Vashtins. It went back generations to a time when the Vashtins attempted to place one of their own on the herunic throne of Medav through a political marriage and murder in one. From then on, the two domains entered into almost endless conflict with each other.
He also discovered the true extent of losses whenever the Medavi clashed with the Bavians. The Shidaras tended to inflate the number of Bavian dead and injured and downplay Medavian casualties. And rumors abounded that the Shidaras had been behind a number of successful assassination attempts on the Vashtins and their supporters including but not necessarily limited to one Herun.
Contrary to their claims of being the victims of Bavian aggression, it also seemed the Shidaras were not simply resisting the Vashtins’ attempts to gain control of the Hegemony. They were also assiduously courting the other domains of Astura and Savanar to join forces with them against Bavia though not on the military front. That was forbidden. It more than supported their stated reason for aligning themselves with the most formidable realm in the North Continent.
The Shidaras were now in the best position to entice the Savanith and Asturans to their side. Far from keeping the precarious balance among all four domains, they appeared as eager to upset it as the Vashtins. It painted a darker, more disturbing picture of the family he'd married into. There were unsavory aspects to the Shidaras he would never have thought of.
Such as the Prime’s apparent predilection for entertainment that required the attendance of hethare, the euphemistically named companions whose convivial and carnal services came at an exorbitantly high price. It seemed they were deemed the only Deira discreet and trustworthy enough to use restraints, gags and certain special implements on a tetrarch. Zykriel wondered what the retainers who knew were threatened with to ensure they kept their mouths shut outside the castle walls.
He was also surprised to discover gossip regarding Lioval’s parentage circulated to this day. He'd thought the indiscretion of Eulan’s late consort a well-kept secret. Then again, the Prime did nothing to put the rumors to rest, showing cool fondness for Lioval in public and offering his youngest son little affection in private. And while it was bruited about that he relied on all his children for counsel, it appeared Lioval was not as privy to his sire’s business as his brothers. Zykriel wondered if this was what stoked his scandalous disregard for convention and the rule of law.
Then there was Diarmin whose sweetly delicate features and gentle smile masked ruthless ambition and a rather sadistic disposition. Talk around the castle indicated he shared his sire’s penchant for the application of pain in bedplay. Except he was not the recipient but the perpetrator. Small wonder the hethare who serviced his sire always steered clear of his eldest son’s apartment.
A darker, more disturbing picture indeed. Save for Qristan who was said to be as often in discord with his brothers as accord due to his conscience and compassion surfacing at the most inopportune occasions.
This was what kept Zykriel on course however baffling or frustrating Qristan could be at times. That and the nights of unbridled passion he shared with his mate which contented him enough to keep his doubts at bay for the most part.
He had to remind himself constantly that he had no right to judge Qristan by traditions not his own. If some of these customs were not to his liking, there was nothing he could do save bear with them. At least, the Shidaras did not demand he observe Medavian practices that did not suit him.
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Come spring, Eulan Shidara decided to visit his Legates. He journeyed to Savanar and Asturas taking Diarmin with him.
As he watched them ride out of the bailey the morning of their departure, Zykriel silently thanked the saints for this brief respite from their presence. While neither Deir was unkind to him, he considered their company somewhat oppressive. Their very obvious secretiveness and lack of genuine warmth added to the sensation of always being under appraisal.
It was not something ever told him outright, but he’d probed their thoughts occasionally and got that impression. But he never tried deep or lengthy incursions. He did not want to alert them to his covert scans. Not only would they raise their shields and foil any further attempts he might make, they could also punish him. After having got to know them better, Zykriel did not think they would hold back just because he was kin by marriage. Nor did he care to discover their methods of retribution.
Lioval was easier to be around except when he chose to play the wastrel. He enjoyed flouting everything that smacked of restriction be it a law, tradition or simple manners. Even the most gamesome of the Essendri cousins did not go as far as he did. Zykriel would quickly tire of his company and seek more restful society.
He had wed the best of the brothers and for that his gratitude knew no bounds.
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Zykriel came out of the bathing chamber to find his spouse seated on the sill of the large window by their bed. He ceased to button his shirt, anticipating that he would be soon be divested of his sleeping attire.
Qristan was looking down at his lap where his right hand rested. He was eyeing the gold and silver wedding band on his middle finger. Beside him on the sill was a flute of mirash. Zykriel felt a flutter in his belly at the indication that Qristan wished to take him in reproductive intercourse.
Because they did not often couple thusly, the act remained unfamiliar to him. It almost always felt like the first time he’d yielded his sheath a fortnight after their handfasting. Not to mention it brought home to him his role in their union. He drew a deep breath and approached Qristan.
He raised his head when Zykriel came to stand before him. A small smile graced his handsome face. Zykriel picked up the flute and drained it quickly. Putting the flute down, he noticed Qristan’s expression seemed pensive despite his smile.
“What is it?” he asked.
Qristan did not answer. Instead, he wrapped his arms around Zykriel’s waist and pulled him close, his head coming to rest on his bare chest. Zykriel looked down at him wondering at the show of affection. He lifted a hand to weave his fingers through Qristan’s hair still damp from his own bath.
“Is something wrong?”
“Nay. I was just thinking about a matter of importance, that is all.”
“Oh? And what matter is this?”
For an answer, Qristan turned his face into his chest and tenderly nuzzled it. A moment later, Zykriel felt his warm lips latch onto a nipple. He could not help a moan as the nipple was teased to a hard bud.
Qristan pulled his shirt down his arms then loosened the drawstring on his sleeping trousers which slowly slithered down his legs. His hands began to map the slopes and shallows of his abdomen, loins and thighs. Zykriel closed his eyes, gasping softly as Qristan’s lips and hands wrought sensation after erotic sensation on his body.
Just when he was about to demand relief, Qristan rose to his feet and locked their lips in a breathstealing kiss. Hardly parting their mouths, he walked Zykriel backwards until the edge of the bed caught at the backs of his knees.
Qristan caught him before he could fall and gently lowered him on the bed. He then shed his own clothes without a word, all the while gazing at Zykriel with an intensity that would have made a lesser Deir tremble.
He eased himself onto the bed and covered Zykriel’s body with his. Still without a word, he sealed their mouths together once more, starting a progression of passionate kisses. Zykriel wondered at his mood.
There was a sweetness, a purity of desire in this seduction. Though fast losing himself to pleasure, he still had enough wits to realize Qristan was restraining himself, holding his own lust at bay and focusing on bringing Zykriel to ecstasy first.
So complete was Qristan’s adoration that when he finally took his straining length into his mouth, Zykriel reared up in need. Qristan gripped his hips and held him down while he continued to suck his shaft. In a shorter time than he was used to, Zykriel climaxed.
To his surprise, Qristan repeated his ministrations, bringing him to a second and then a third orgasm which left him close to depleted of energy. Perhaps Qristan was allowing the mirash enough time to take effect though usually he simply prolonged foreplay.
He caught his breath when Qristan finally reached behind his scrotum and teased the tiny opening to his seed channel. As his body turned, Zykriel tried not to react too visibly at the sensations of his sac lifting and contracting to expose his now well lubricated sheath. Though he had yielded all of himself, his pride demanded that he not display his capitulation so completely. He would not soon forget Qristan’s smugness at his discomfort when the vestigial protective membrane within gave way that first time.
Qristan however displayed neither pride nor delight tonight, but only an eagerness to give pleasure before reaping pleasure in turn. In one smooth slide, he buried himself and then proceeded to draw out their coupling as much as possible. He kept his thrusts gentle and shallow to slow down the progression toward orgasm. Zykriel did not recall being so tenderly mastered.
Inevitably rapture started to build and then spiral with every slide of their bodies and every plunge of hard shaft into yielding flesh. Qristan leaned down and brushed their mouths together whereupon Zykriel parted his lips to lure him into a hot-tongued kiss.
Without warning, completion overtook him anew. No longer capable of coherent thought, he could only ride out his release. He’d never thought an orgasm could be mellow and explosive at the same time. Qristan came to his own completion and the entry of semen into Zykriel’s womb set off contractions that extended his orgasm. Verily, the sensation of his spouse’s seed spilling inside him wrought a special pleasure he’d never expected to look forward to.
Tonight the pleasure was twofold as sensation mingled with unexpected emotion. One he’d resisted for so long.
He noticed his mate was looking at him with a wistful expression.
“What is it?” he asked again.
Qristan let out a small huff. “I wish I could be myself at all times.”
Zykriel recalled Yovan’s words on his wedding night. He realized Qristan had been more relaxed and open with him since Eulan and Diarmin departed Elana.
“When will they return?”
“In another sennight,” Qristan replied. He smiled a little crookedly. “Is it horrible of me to wish they would stay away a little longer?”
Zykriel shook his head. “They are a tad overbearing.”
Qristan laughed. “That’s quite charitable of you.”
“They’re still your kin.” Zykriel paused. “Yet you’re not like them in many ways.”
“Aren’t I? How?”
“You’re not as ruthless. And you don’t feign courtesy or kindness just for gain.”
Qristan snorted. “You’ve forgotten our first encounter, haven’t you?”
“Not at all.”
“Then how can you think so highly of me when much of what I did was for show? To gain something from you.”
“But you were genuinely kind and courteous no matter your intentions. There was no pretense in your manner else I wouldn’t have trusted you enough to accept your overture.”
“Truly?”
“Truly. Had it been Diarmin who’d tried to seduce me that night, I would have turned him down. I liked him enough for a new acquaintance, but I didn’t feel comfortable or ... safe with him as I did with you.”
Qristan gazed at him wide-eyed as if something had dawned on him. And then he beamed brightly and without restraint.
“My thanks.”
He pressed a chaste kiss to Zykriel’s lips which strangely felt more intimate than the most passionate of caresses they’d shared thus far. To cement the feeling, he cradled Zykriel’s head on his shoulder, drawing him as much as possible into the circle of his arms. He closed his eyes and softly sighed.
“I wish it could always be like this,” he whispered. Before Zykriel could ask him what he meant, he appeared to drift into slumber.
Zykriel regarded him a while before he too sought his rest. Affection and anxiety warred in his breast. He could not longer deny the nature of his feelings for his mate.
It was as frightening as it was exhilarating.