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Ranael and Yovan departed with the Ylandrin forces within the hour. Both refused to take part in the Medavi’s occupation of Glamis. Six warriors stayed behind to escort Gilmael when he chose to return to Ylandre.
“I’ve done my part,” Ranael told the twins. “My orders were to rescue Zyk and that’s been accomplished.” He looked at Zykriel regretfully. “Forgive me but I refuse to stay in this accursed country any longer than I have to.”
Zykriel shook his head. “Don’t apologize for stating the truth. Convey my thanks to Rohyr, though if matters go as I expect, I may return soon enough to thank him myself.”
“Veres forbid that Qristan is as treacherous as his kin.” Yovan regarded Zykriel sympathetically. “I say that more for your sake than the alliance.”
“Uncle—”
“I warrant you wish you hadn’t learned to love him.”
Zykriel felt warmth suffuse his cheeks under Gilmael’s glare and Ranael’s surprised stare. “You’d be right,” he muttered. With a hug to each he said, “Safe journey, Ran, Uncle.”
He did not take leave of Diarmin or Qristan in person but merely sent them word that he was returning to Elana with Gilmael. Neither twin cared to bear witness to Diarmin’s subjugation of Glamis.
Their arrival in the capital was met with surprise. Lioval welcomed them on behalf of the Prime given the late hour, but they exchanged no more than cursory greetings with him. They also declined to give him more information beyond the news that Glamis had fallen and Diarmin was presently meeting with Alvarad Vashtin. Why Zykriel had left Qristan behind he did not bother to explain. Instead, he arranged for the quartering of their escort and then swept past Lioval pleading exhaustion and a desire for the quiet of his quarters.
Gilmael did not say much until they entered the chamber. But as soon as they were alone, he let loose his frustration. He’d wanted to return to Ylandre immediately, but Zykriel insisted on waiting for Qristan in Elana to give him a chance to explain his actions.
“Uncle Yovan’s counsel is sound. If Qristan is innocent of his family’s scheming, I won’t have sundered our union over a mistake.”
“And if he was complicit in his sire and brother’s dealings?”
“Then I shall own our marriage a farce and return to Losshen.”
Gilmael almost smiled, but then he frowned. “What about the alliance? If you leave him, the treaty will be declared null.”
Zykriel looked away. “I won’t seek annulment of our marriage. And I suspect neither will he. Therefore the treaty will stand.”
Gilmael stared at him in disbelief. “Are you mad? You’ll be Herun of Losshen one day. Need I remind you that you’ll want legitimately born sons to succeed you?”
“Your children can inherit.”
“Nay! Why are you doing this?”
“It’s as much my duty as it is Rohyr’s to secure Ylandre’s northwestern border for a generation at the very least.”
“Damn duty! You have a right to be happy!”
“Think you I could be happy if Ylandre is imperiled because we broke with the Hegemony so soon? Nor will the herunic scepter rest lightly in my hand should Losshen’s safety be compromised.”
Gilmael glared at him, his frustration back in full. “You would live out your life in misery? Do you truly desire that?”
“Of course not!” Zykriel snapped. “But I’m heir to our sire and until you stand in my boots, you have no right to judge my choices!” When Gilmael stepped back as if he’d been struck, Zykriel shook his head and pulled his twin into an embrace. “Let’s not quarrel over this,” he pleaded. “More than ever I need you to be in accord with me.”
Gilmael returned the embrace. “I’m sorry. It’s just—” He let out an angry huff. “I hate to see you in such straits.”
“I know, I know.” Zykriel pulled back slightly to meet his brother’s gaze. “Do I have your support?”
Gilmael sighed. “Always.”
––––––––
The Medavian army returned three days later and were welcomed with much fanfare by the Elanians. Their triumphant march into the city was a virtual spectacle with drummers and bugle-horn blowers heralding their arrival, posies and kerchiefs thrown at the soldiers’ feet, and fragrant garlands slung onto the broad necks of their steeds. Leading the way, Diarmin sat his mount with the assurance of a conqueror, smiling and waving at the crowds and occasionally accepting nosegays and scented handkerchers from admirers.
His behavior was a far cry from his brother’s. Qristan was somber of expression and barely smiled at the greetings and praise directed at him. Only when he rode into the castle courtyard did he seem to perk up. He was seen to look up, searching the windows and balconies above.
Zykriel kept his eyes on his spouse as he rode up the road to the castle. He’d declined to join the Prime and Lioval at the entrance and instead stood at his bedchamber’s tall window. Gilmael joined him but stayed back out of sight of the people below.
Qristan saw him and smiled brightly. But Zykriel could not bring himself to return the gesture given his misgivings about the Shidaras’ behavior. The most he could summon was a nod of his head and slight upturn of the corners of his mouth. Qristan’s pleasure visibly dimmed.
Zykriel felt a pang of guilt but it was only for a moment. The thought of the discussion he intended to have with his mate was enough to dampen any feelings of affection or compassion he’d harbored before learning of his kin-by-marriage’s deceptions.
When he judged enough time had passed for Qristan to reach his apartment, he walked out to the sitting room. Gilmael followed him, his brows creased in worry.
“Are you sure you want to confront him right now?” He asked. “He’s just arrived. You can put it off until tomorrow.”
“Why delay?” Zykriel said. “I need to know the truth. The sooner the better for my peace of mind.”
“That’s assuming you’ll like what you learn. What if it turns out otherwise? Will you part from him this very day?”
“Nay, that I will put off until tomorrow. I would have a good night’s sleep first.”
Zykriel strode out of the room giving his twin no chance to respond. As he traversed the short distance to Qristan’s apartment, he reflected on his latest realizations about his spouse.
If his suppositions were correct, they explained why Qristan blew hot and cold with him. If he held some affection for him it was probably contrary to Eulan’s wishes. When he looked back on their relationship, Zykriel recalled that Qristan was most aloof when he’d been in frequent company with his sire and older brother, but friendly and affectionate with Zykriel otherwise. He had apparently tried to balance his filial duty and marital obligations with mixed results.
Zykriel could understand the struggle, even empathize with him. But he could not comprehend or tolerate the willingness to cause him hurt or put him in danger. Qristan would have to explain his reasons and they had better be damn good ones.
It was apparent Qristan had not expected him so soon. Vilsom had just laid his helm and hauberk on the large chest at the foot of the bed and now returned to pull off his boots. Davian was also present. He moved to draw Qristan’s tunic off his shoulders as soon as Zykriel entered.
Zykriel did not hide his displeasure upon laying eyes on the aide. Qristan apparently noticed for he told Davian to leave with Vilsom. The Deir started to protest, but stopped when he came under Zykriel’s glacial stare. He sullenly followed the valet out.
As Zykriel approached, Qristan looked at him questioningly. But he walked behind him and finished what Davian had started. He tossed the tunic onto the chest and then started to unbutton his spouse’s shirt.
Qristan caught him by the wrist. “This isn’t your duty.”
Zykriel raised his eyebrows a tad mockingly. “Even if it’s to welcome my mate home?”
“You weren’t supposed to be here to welcome me home. Why did you leave?”
“For the same reason Tribune Mesare and Counsellor Seydon departed posthaste. None of us cared to watch your brother loot and burn Glamis and turn its folk out of house and home.”
Qristan flushed and looked down. “I told him what he was doing was wrong. But Diarmin is determined to put the Vashtins in their place.”
Zykriel snorted. “And where is that place? Under the Shidara yoke?” He pulled his hand away and stepped back. “Do you still wonder that we left?”
“I understand your aversion to staying on. But why didn’t you come to me? Why send a message?”
“I didn’t care to enter the city and see with my own eyes what damage you Medavi had wreaked upon it. Especially knowing my abduction was the excuse for the invasion of Glamis. An excuse you Shidaras so cleverly engineered.”
“What are you talking about?” Qristan stared at him in dismay. “Do you think we arranged your abduction?”
“Events confirm that you did.”
“Sweet Veres! How can you believe we’d do such a thing?”
“Everything points to it. My kidnapping was timely and so very convenient for your family’s plans.” Zykriel stared at him challengingly. “How did the Bavians know where and when I’d be or how to cross over undetected? They were also quite familiar with the area though it lies far within Medav’s borders. Someone gave them the information. And since our schedules that day were known only to a select few, it stands to reason one of those few had already contacted the Vashtins well before we set out for the outposts.” He narrowed his eyes. “Mayhap even you.”
“Zyk!”
“Why so shocked? You wouldn’t be the first Deir to betray his spouse for gain.”
“I didn’t betray you to the Vashtins! And neither did my family!” When Zykriel rolled his eyes, Qristan said, “Our only sin was taking advantage of the golden opportunity your abduction gave us.”
“Golden opportunity?”
“Aye, to turn the tables on the Vashtins and compel them to surrender the territories they’d wrested from us.”
“Only that? I hardly believe it’s all Diarmin demanded of them.”
Qristan wrinkled his nose in distaste. “He also had our borders redrawn the same way your Ardan changed the border between Ylandre and Teraz.”
Zykriel scowled. “I never thought I’d rue the day anyone took a leaf from Rohyr’s book.” He eyed Qristan suspiciously. “You expect me to believe your sire and brother are innocent. Do you truly believe it?”
He did not attempt to breach Qristan’s shields and force him to speak the truth. He could not do so without causing his spouse some pain. But he could persuade him by reminding him of their developing accord. An accord now in peril.
Qristan blinked when he felt the brush against his mind followed by the flow of Zykriel’s thoughts. He closed his eyes, bit his lower lip, and bowed his head. After a short while, he looked at Zykriel apologetically.
“There was talk about ... how best to use whomever I chose.” He flinched when Zykriel glowered at him. “They didn’t tell me more than that. When you voiced your suspicions, I wondered if your abduction had indeed been part of some plan. But Diarmin denied it when I asked him. I’m inclined to believe him since your kidnapping came at the cost of many soldiers’ lives.”
“He’s your brother, I can’t blame you for believing him innocent,” Zykriel said. “But having witnessed his treatment of the Bavians? I don’t think his hands are clean. Or your sire’s for that matter. And even were they not behind my abduction, they used it to serve their own purposes. It confirms I was a mere pawn in your war games.”
Qristan laid a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.
Before he could continue, someone knocked on the apartment door. A moment later, Davian peered into the bedroom.
“I beg pardon, Lord Qristan,” he said. “His Grace wishes to know if you will visit Dharra tomorrow as scheduled.”
Qristan frowned. “I’m in no mood to travel again so soon after returning.” When Davian opened his mouth to respond, he preempted the latter with a curt, “Don’t interrupt us again.”
The aide flushed and bowed his head. “Forgive me, Qris-dyhar.” He left, closing the door behind him.
Zykriel stared after him in disbelief. He rounded on Qristan and growled, “Qris-dyhar? You allow him to address you thusly?”
Qristan shook his head. “I rescinded that privilege long ago. He must have forgotten.”
“Then you did allow it!” Something snapped in Zykriel. “When you took him to your bed no doubt. You must think me a simpleton to claim you’d rescinded the privilege when you continue to cuckold me with him.”
“Nay! That isn’t so!”
“Why didn’t you countermand your brother and come for me first?” Zykriel demanded.
It took Qristan a moment to register the sudden change in topic. “Diarmin was my commander. I couldn’t disobey his orders.”
“Bollocks!” Zykriel slashed the air with his hand. “Were that truly the case, you wouldn’t have joined Gilmael when he broke away to go to me. I was never your brother’s priority and you knew that. But you didn’t have the gumption to tell him or come for me on your own.”
“Tell me, my lord spouse,” he venomously continued. “When you took advantage of your so-called golden opportunity did it matter to any of you if I lived or died? Had they slain me, would you have given me a lavish state funeral and chalked it up as a tragedy of your damned Hegemony’s internal conflicts?”
Qristan looked aghast. “You think I care so little for you?”
“Yes!” Zykriel snapped. “You’ve given me little cause to think otherwise.”
“It would have devastated me had you died!”
Qristan sounded horrified but Zykriel only stared at him distrustfully.
“I highly doubt it. Davian would have consoled you well had I perished in Bavia.”
“Oh Veres...” Qristan covered his mouth with slightly trembling fingers. He dropped his hand and gazed earnestly at Zykriel. “I haven't broken my vows of fidelity with Davian or anyone else. I've been true to you since we handfasted.” When Zykriel raised his eyebrows in disbelief, he quickly added, “Aye, he warmed my bed, but that’s no longer the case. It hasn’t been in years. He’s solely my aide now.”
“Aide my arse,” Zykriel scoffed, unable to keep silent at such a blatant falsehood. “He behaves like no retainer who wasn't bound in some way to the object of his over familiarity.”
Qristan winced. “Forgive me for ignoring your discomfort. I’ll forbid him to act thusly from hereon.”
“Discomfort?” Zykriel stared at him. “Do you think that's all it was? I was made to feel the interloper in my own marriage. And you didn't help matters by refusing to dismiss him when I asked it of you.”
“I-I realize that now.” Qristan laid a hand beseechingly on his arm. “It was callous of me. I shouldn't have let you believe I was still bedding him.”
Zykriel felt the lump in his throat swell until he thought he would choke on it. He swallowed hard.
“Do you really think I’ll accept your word for it?” He held a hand up to silence Qristan. “You may claim all you want that he’s no more than an aide to you. His behavior belies your claim. As does your refusal to dismiss him. And forbidding him to treat you familiarly when in my presence is no more convincing of your fidelity than offering to keep us apart while you continued to avail of his services.”
Qristan groaned. “Plague take my tongue,” he mumbled, running his other hand over his face. “I’m such an idiot.” He looked at Zykriel anxiously. “There’s a reason I didn’t send him away and it's not because he's my lover. I swear there’s been no other since we wed.” When Zykriel snorted and moved to walk away, he tightened his grip on his arm. “Let me explain.”
Zykriel narrowed his eyes at him. “Well then, talk.”
“Thank you. I promise I’ll—”
“Don’t. I can’t trust you to keep your word.”
Qristan briefly closed his eyes and nodded. He looked at Zykriel again and held his gaze. Zykriel sensed he'd lowered his mental shields so Zykriel would know if he was telling the truth.
“Davian’s family has served mine for many generations,” Qristan said. “His grandfather was one of my great-grandsire’s personal attendants and his sire Ilvaz was valet to my grandsire. When Davian first came into service, it was as my father’s secretary. Then Ama was exiled and Aba nearly sent Davian away because he didn't want any reminders of Ama’s indiscretion, including the folk who served him and possibly colluded to keep his affair hidden. Ilvaz had sickened and on his deathbed he pleaded with Aba not to send his son away. Aba recalled the family’s years of service and decided to assign him to me. That's how he came to be my aide. I'd barely reached my majority then.”
Zykriel frowned. “I don't know what you hope to achieve by telling me this. Knowing he's served you all these years only makes me less inclined to hear you out.”
“I'm sorry! Please, Zyk, I only wish for you to know why I couldn't just dismiss him.” Qristan hurriedly explained, “We reward loyalty with tenure hereabouts. Whatever his failings, Davian is a loyal and excellent servant.”
“So excellent he came to share your bed,” Zykriel sneered. “Let’s not dither about the reason. He had something to offer and you accepted it.”
Qristan grimaced. “I was as gamesome as Lioval then,” he admitted. “I wanted to try everything, but not under the tutelage of prostitutes. I was selective enough not to consort with whores nor did I care to risk catching any diseases from them. Davian had a bit more experience than I and was willing to teach me what he knew. So I ... bedded him.”
Zykriel scowled. “How long did your affair last? Going by his behavior, I wager it was a lengthy one.”
“Nay. It was little more than a month.” Qristan exhaled in apparent frustration. “Yet for some reason, he thought I would make him my leman and informed others of his expectations. I don't know what led him to think that was the case. Perhaps he mistook my kindness toward him for affection. I really don't know for certes.”
“And perhaps there really was affection for him to believe he meant more to you than a mere bed-treat,” Zykriel said sarcastically.
“There wasn’t!” Qristan insisted. “I never acted the lover. I never even kissed him! In truth, I treated him like a trull. I always had him leave as soon as we were done. But it appears he took our affair as a sign of a deeper relationship.”
“Did he think you would wed him?”
“Of course not. He knew that was too high an aim. I think he would have been content to be my concubine. But I didn't want that. I wasn't interested in an exclusive liaison and certainly not with him. I only wanted to learn from him; sample his charms and see if they were to my taste. They weren’t and so I ceased our trysting.” Qristan pursed his lips unhappily. “I didn't foresee how humiliating it would be for him. How my choices would put him in an untenable position. But I couldn't apologize for that either. It wouldn't have been meet.”
“You made no promises,” Zykriel pointed out. “He formed assumptions and made them public without confirming if they were correct. Why feel guilty for his mistake?”
Qristan shrugged helplessly. “He'd always served me well and with discretion save for our affair. I complicated matters by bedding him. Blurred the line between us needlessly. He tried to save face by acting as if he still had my favor. I let him carry on with the pretense so long as he didn't claim he was more than a casual lover. I thought it would help mitigate his shame.” He looked entreatingly at Zykriel. “I pity him, that’s all.”
“So much that you risked our marriage. You risked me.” Zykriel huffed. “And you claim to hold no affection for him.”
“I do claim it! I swear I feel only pity for him.”
“Your reasoning is difficult to comprehend, much less accept. It would have been understandable had you put a stop to the pretense when we were betrothed. Who would have thought less of him then? Yet you didn’t. I asked you to send him away only after we wed. And still you declined to. Why if it wasn't out of consideration for him?”
Qristan shook his head then looked down and bit his lip. “I wanted to see how you would react,” he muttered
Zykriel was momentarily bereft of speech. “Are you saying it was all a ploy? I can’t— Heyas! You’re unbeliev—”
“I didn’t yield to him,” Qristan blurted.
Zykriel peered at him in confusion. “What?”
“I haven't yielded myself to anyone other than you.”
Confusion turned into irate disbelief. “You said you Medavi don’t hold to such old-fashioned notions.”
Qristan reddened. “I may have exaggerated.”
Zykriel stared at him incredulously. “So it was another lie out of many? Is that your claim? And you expect me to believe you?” He laughed bitterly. “You didn’t have any difficulty when I took you that first time. Hardly the reaction I expected of someone whose backside was untried. Or have you forgotten I’d already experienced the discomfort of a first breaching at your hands?”
The color in Qristan’s cheeks deepened. “It had naught to do with my experience and everything to do with yours,” he awkwardly explained. “You took such care in preparing me and easing my fears I experienced little discomfort. I did feel some pain but it was so mild and fleeting, it was easy to pretend otherwise. It shamed me later that I didn’t do the same for you. I saw how anxious you were but my ... my need to establish my dominance overrode my wish to comfort you. I’m so sorry, Zyk, that was inconsiderate of me.”
Zykriel was nonplussed. He no longer knew what to believe or whether he should believe anything at all.
“Why pretend in the first place?”
Qristan briefly laid his fingers over his mouth again in what Zykriel now recognized as a nervous gesture. “I saw you were jealous,” he hesitantly said. “It suggested you cared more for me than you let on. None of my previous bedmates have been possessive of me. If they showed hostility to a rival, it was for fear of losing favor with me, not out of affection. You're the only one who showed sincere desire for my company. For me. So I ... let you think your suspicions were true.”
Renewed confusion joined Zykriel’s incredulity. “But what of my decision to take separate quarters? Shouldn’t that have merited the truth? Why didn’t you tell me then?”
Qristan took a deep breath and said, “I feared your reaction.”
Zykriel glared at him. “What’s the real reason?”
“That is the reason.”
He lost his patience and thrust a mental probe into his mate’s mind, barreling past his lowered shields. A moment later, he sucked in his breath. He stared at a white-faced Qristan. The forcible search among his memories had obviously shaken him and caused some pain. But he could not find it in himself to care.
“You didn’t tell me because you enjoyed my jealousy,” he accused.
“At first,” Qristan almost whispered.
“Saints above!” Zykriel let out an anguished huff. “You liked seeing me hurt!”
Qristan’s eyes widened. “That was never my intention! Verily, I didn’t realize I’d gone too far until you left our apartment.”
“Yet still you didn’t confess all. You just couldn’t bear to own your folly and admit you'd hurt me for the most selfish of reasons.”
“I won’t deny your charge ... but it was not the main cause. I truly feared what you would do.” Qristan spoke haltingly, apprehension clear in his eyes. “You’d resigned yourself to having taken a ... an unchaste, unfaithful Deir to spouse. I saw how much it troubled you. I wanted to confess then, but...” He gulped. “I wasn’t supposed to become enamored of you. Aba realized that I ... had. It alarmed him. He ordered me to stay the course. So I kept my silence until I couldn’t bear your unhappiness any longer. But then I worried you’d be angered even more to ... to hear the truth after so long when you’d already suffered greatly for it. So I ... I delayed once more.”
Zykriel let loose his rage and shoved him away so hard, Qristan nearly lost his balance.
“You coerced me into marriage, made a game of my feelings and allowed your family to endanger me for political gain,” he snarled. “You cared so little for me you fed me lies about that whoreson just so you’d have the pleasure of watching two curs fight over a bone!”
When Qristan made no rejoinder but only averted his gaze, he exploded.
“Why for the love of all that’s holy should I forgive you? Indeed, why should I bring more misery upon myself than has already befallen me by trusting you, knave that you are for all your claims to nobility?”
Feeling himself on the verge of losing all control, Zykriel closed his eyes, unclenched his fists, and forced himself to calm down. He would not give in to rage and raise a hand to his spouse however much the latter deserved a good beating. Once his anger banked enough, he opened his eyes and glowered at Qristan.
“Oh Veres, I’m really sor—” Qristan started to say.
Zykriel jabbed a finger at his chest.
“You will not speak,” he ordered. After Qristan reluctantly nodded, he said, “I hereby draw up a new agreement between us. We will maintain this farce of a marriage for the sake of the treaty. But I will depart this benighted land and you will rescind the stipulation requiring me to reside here part of the year. Furthermore, we will not communicate again either by letter or mind-speech.”
He angrily took off his waterstone earring. “I told you not to speak!” When Qristan closed his mouth, he sarcastically added, “And lest you think my terms too onerous, I give you leave to do what you want with whomever you wish. There, that should sweeten the compact to suit your needs.”
He tossed the earring onto the bed, turned on his heel and stalked out of the room, leaving stricken silence in his wake.
––––––––
He was packed and ready to leave before daybreak. He paid no attention to his attendants’ murmured speculations when he donned his emerald earring. After giving instructions that the rest of his possessions be sent to Losshen, he joined Gilmael in the bailey. The brethren did not take leave of the Prime or his heir. They did not deserve the courtesy, Zykriel told his twin.
To their surprise, Qristan raced out of the castle after them. Zykriel ignored him and mounted his steed. But Qristan grabbed the reins before he did.
Zykriel glanced down in annoyance, vituperative words springing to his lips. However, his mate’s pinched countenance, bloodshot eyes and unruly hair told of a restless, sleepless night and startled him into brief silence.
“Don't go,” he pleaded. “Let me make amends. Please, Zyk, give me a chance to set things right.“
Zykriel bristled. How dare Qristan use the shortened form of his name implying affection and intimacy. After he'd played him the fool and broken his heart in the process.
“Don’t call me that,” he snapped. “I decide who gets to address me thusly. You’re no longer one of them.”
He yanked the reins out of Qristan’s hand and pointed his steed toward the gate. Gilmael followed him closely.
They rode out despite Qristan’s desperate pleas. No one dared stop them. Not when they caught sight of Zykriel’s face, his expression promising a bloody end for anyone who got in his way. Their escort waited at Elana’s main gate and fell in behind them as they passed through the great arched entrance.
The city guards watched the Ylandrins make their way at a brisk pace to a safe distance from the walls. The air before them rippled just before a translocation corridor blossomed into being. The twins rode into the tunnel with nary a glance back at the city, their mounts’ hind hooves kicking up soil and pebbles as they plunged into the swirling mist.
To all who saw, it looked as if they’d shaken off the dust of Medav.