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Ylandre, in the 3013th year of the Common Age
Seven months ago
Yovan whistled softly as he pulled on his cloak. Across the sitting room, Mered was giving instructions to the butler and head cook. When they departed, he turned and smiled widely at Yovan, his eyes alight with glee.
“You’re quite excited for a mere trip to Rikara,” Yovan teased.
“We’ve been away longer than usual,” Mered pointed out. “And I do miss Rysander. I wonder if he’ll be amenable to coming back with us for a few days.”
“Well, there’s much more to occupy a Deir his age in Rikara,” Yovan said. “Not to mention most of his cousins are in town. But if there’s anyone who can convince him of the merits of country living, that would be you.”
Mered beamed and came over to him. They shared a long, promising kiss. Yovan huffed a soft chuckle.
“Did you pack the salve?” he huskily asked. “I promise you’re going to need it.”
“And you won’t?” Mered rubbed their noses together. “I intend to invoke my spousal privileges as well. And, yes, I packed two jars.”
They both laughed and linking arms, exited the suite. Yovan thought he had not been this deliciously felicitous in quite a while. Perhaps it was because they’d spent three months alone at Woodmere broken by one brief visit to Rikara and a fortnight’s sojourn in Medav at midsummer for Zykriel’s nuptials. He’d also not been forced to meet or entertain Cordona clients and the like. Unfortunately, Mered still hosted dinners for them and even invited a few for weekend stays at their Rikara house.
It was a chore Yovan continued to dislike. But he played the dutiful host for Mered’s sake and counted down the days to when they could retreat from the capital and return to the bucolic peace of Woodmere. Ever since Mered agreed to keep their country estate exclusive to themselves and desired visitors, it had become a true haven.
Yovan sighed in contentment. Save for Rysander’s absence, it had been an almost perfect three months.
The butler returned to meet them halfway down the hallway, his expression bland but with a hint of disapproval he could not quite hide.
“I beg your pardon, Masters Seydon,” he said. “But two Deira have just arrived. They say they are staying for the week’s end.”
Mered frowned. “We weren’t expecting anyone. How rude of them to show up unannounced and think we’ll welcome them.”
“I thought so too, Dyhar. Shall I send them away?”
“Nay, that would be discourteous. I don’t care to descend to their level. We’ll see them before we leave. Where did you put them?”
“In the green parlor.”
“And just who are these visitors?” Yovan asked before the butler moved away.
“Isron Debrith and his spouse, Dyhar.”
Yovan looked at Mered questioningly. But Mered shook his head and said, “I have no idea why they’re here. I definitely didn’t invite them. I haven’t invited any of that lot here since you asked me to.”
“True.” Yovan sighed. “I suppose we might as well get this over with.”
They headed for the green parlor and entered the room, Mered a tad reluctantly it seemed. As soon as they stepped in, Debrith and his spouse rose to their feet. Without waiting for the Seydons to greet or even address them, Debrith came forward with his hand extended. He smiled but Yovan noticed both smile and gesture were directed at Mered. Perhaps it was petty of him but it pleased him when Mered only loosely took the builder’s hand and shook it once before drawing away from him.
Debrith seemed not to notice or care. “It’s so good to see you again, Mered,” he warmly said, his familiarity irritating Yovan as always. Seemingly an afterthought, the builder added, “And you too, Seydon-dyhar.”
Yovan noted that he did not bother to present his mate who looked both pained and offended. Indignant on the latter’s behalf, Yovan abruptly said, “Wherefore this sudden visit? As you can see, we were about to leave.”
The builder’s expression changed to surprise and disappointment. “Is that so? Ah, it appears Havir didn’t know.”
Mered blinked. “Did Havir send you here?”
“Well, he didn’t exactly send us,” Debrith replied. He retrieved a folded piece of parchment from inside his tunic and handed it to Mered. While Mered read the letter, Debrith explained, “I invested a goodly sum the other day and I suppose Havir was so pleased that he asked if I would enjoy a visit to Woodmere. I told him ‘Of course’.” He looked at his spouse with a specious smile. “We so enjoyed our stay here years ago.”
Yovan glanced at Debrith’s mate and caught him rolling his eyes. He forbore to comment that the Deir did not seem to agree. And then he recalled it was Debrith’s first and second spouses who’d come with him to Woodmere. This one had never been and was obviously put out that Debrith did not remember. Yovan turned his attention to Mered who’d uttered what sounded like an imprecation under his breath.
“Mer?”
“I see,” Mered muttered, a crease forming between his brows. But when he looked up from the letter, his expression had been wiped clean of any seeming irritation. “I’ll have a room readied for you.”
It was Yovan’s turn to frown. He took Mered by the elbow, murmured a curt “Excuse us” to the Debriths and took his spouse aside.
“So you’re letting them stay,” he flatly said when they were out of earshot.
“I have to,” Mered replied. “It is as he said. Havir thought to reward his generous investment with a visit here. Isr— Debrith did enjoy Woodmere the most out of all my family’s country homes.”
Yovan snorted. “Because you don’t reside in the others.”
“Van, please. Let’s not argue in front of them,” Mered said a touch impatiently or so it seemed.
“Argue? Is that what we’re doing? Besides are you really going to leave them here by themselves for, what, two days?” Yovan pointedly asked.
“Three. And, nay,” Mered answered. He hesitated and then said, “I’ll stay. You go on to Rikara without me.”
Yovan stared incredulously at him. “What? Are you seriously suggesting that I leave you here with them?”
Mered’s lips tightened. “Oh Veres, jealous again?”
“Jealous!” Yovan raised his hands in frustration. “This has naught to do with jealousy. You agreed to come with me to Rikara. You even said you’d persuade Rysander to return here with us for a spell. And suddenly you change your mind just because Havir told you to?”
He gestured to the Debriths. “They arrive unannounced and uninvited and instead of politely refusing them, you upend our schedule to accommodate them. Don’t you see the wrongness of that?”
“I’d hardly call it wrong to show hospitality to one’s guests even if they’re unexpected,” Mered countered. “And it’s just three days. They’ll be long gone by the time you return.”
Yovan peered at him disbelievingly. “You’re determined to stay behind.”
“Yes, I am,” Mered retorted. “And so would you if you had any manners.” Yovan gasped while Mered paled. He hurriedly stammered, “Saints, why did I— I’m sorry, that was—”
He was cut off as Yovan turned away and strode to the door. Mered hastened after him. “Van, please!”
Yovan looked over his shoulder at his spouse, his heart aching with hurt and resentment. “Get you back to your guests,” he snapped. “You wouldn’t want to be deemed an unmannered Deir like myself now would you, my sweet?” Mered looked stricken and oddly helpless but at the moment Yovan could not care. “I’ll return when I can,” he said as he walked away.
Mered caught up with him and laid a hand on his shoulder. “When you can? We were just going to stay for a sennight. You said that was long enough so you could attend Council and still have time to spend with Rysander.”
“We were going,” Yovan retorted. “Since that’s no longer the case, I might as well see what else needs putting in order.” He pulled away and continued on his way. “Now why don’t you go and play the delightful host? It seems to be the only thing you enjoy doing nowadays.”
He headed out onto the sunlit porch. A groom had two equines ready at the bottom of the steps. Yovan waited a few minutes, hoping Mered would follow him. But he waited in vain. With a frustrated sigh, he mounted his steed and turned it toward the gate. As he rode away, he wondered what he’d done in his past to merit the unhappy incertitude he’d been living with for far too many years now.
Rysander happily welcomed him home which alleviated some of Yovan’s pique at Mered. And when his son agreed to return to Woodmere with him without the need of much convincing, his ire faded to mild irritation. Mayhap he could go back to the estate earlier since the reason for the original extended stay in the capital was to have enough time to spend with Rysander.
He attended Council in the afternoon and was thankful for the further distraction it offered. Fortunately, he was able to rein in his feelings such that no sour expression betrayed him. He forced himself to focus on the meeting and successfully kept the others from perceiving the occasional unhappy thought or flash of anger that needled him every once in a while.
As the meeting came to an end, Rohyr praised Keosqe for Internal Affairs’ extensive records. Apparently Keosqe had developed an impressive system of collecting information on anything and everything that had to do with the kingdom’s domestic affairs. He even had files on individual Ylandrins of interest to the government whether it be by virtue of their status in society, economic prominence, political leanings or criminal past. An idea came to Yovan and he approached Keosqe before the latter left the vicinity.
“A word, Kes,” he requested.
“By all means, Uncle Van,” Keosqe replied.
“Do you really keep files on certain citizens?”
“If they’re significant enough to warrant our interest. Why? Do you need information about someone?”
“I do. Have you heard of the builder Isron Debrith?”
“Nay, but if he’s successful in his business or rich enough, I’ll likely have a file about him,” Keosqe said. “Failing that, I can have my agents gather information on him. As I said, if he’s significant enough, it won’t be difficult.”
“He’s rich and successful,” Yovan confirmed. “I would greatly appreciate it if you could provide me with information about him.”
“May I ask why? I’d rather limit using the Ministry’s resources for personal reasons.”
Yovan smiled. “Debrith is also one of the biggest investors of Bank Cordona, if not the biggest. They seem to trust him much on account of his sire’s previous connections to the bank. But we all know a son isn’t necessarily alike to his parents. I would like to make sure he can be trusted as his sire was.”
“Ah, an investor of Bank Cordona. We have files on all their major investors and patrons,” Keosqe said.
“Do you now.”
“Well, the Cordonas contribute much to the economy. We keep an eye on them for blunders or wrongdoing that might adversely affect the kingdom’s finances and the like. To nip whatever requires nipping in the bud you might say.”
“That’s very foresighted of you,” Yovan sincerely said. “You truly deserve Rohyr’s praise. Yes, I overheard and I agree.”
Keosqe smiled a mite bashfully. Yovan supposed their being government officials did not supersede their relationship as uncle and nephew.
“Can you come by the Ministry tomorrow? I should have enough for your needs by then.”
“I’ll come by. My thanks, Kes.”
––––––––
He arrived at the Ministry of Internal Affairs the following day after the noonday meal. He judged it sufficient time for Keosqe to put together whatever information he’d gathered. Sure enough, Keosqe held up two long sheets of parchment when Yovan entered his office.
“Most of these have to do with his businesses and finances,” Keosqe explained. “He and his sire have built more homes and buildings for the bluebloods of Rikara than anyone else and he has a fair number of upper crust clients in Sidona and Ilmaren. He was also granted a Crown warrant about two years back and has just been contracted to build a new wing for Castlegrove. It will be his first major royal project.”
Yovan managed to still his start of surprise. He’d known that Rohyr planned to expand the Crown Prince’s holdings in Vireshe by appropriating the fields and forests surrounding the estate, adding more housing for the tenants and building the castle a new wing. He had not been aware of Debrith’s involvement however.
“There’s a fair amount about his personal history as well,” Keosqe continued. “This Debrith doesn’t seem to know enough to keep his mouth shut about certain matters in his life. His file is rife with complaints and resentful pronouncements about...” He paused uncertainly. “About you and Uncle Mered.”
Yovan narrowed his eyes. “He has indeed exhibited resentment against me. But what has he to say about Mered?”
Keosqe appeared uncomfortable as he continued. “They were schoolmates and friends back in university.”
“They knew each other that long ago?” Yovan said in some disbelief.
“Yes. And interestingly, Debrith paid court to Uncle Mered before you were betrothed to each other,” Keosqe informed him.
Yovan managed not to start. “I wasn’t aware of that,” he said keeping his voice even. “Obviously his suit wasn’t accepted.”
“Obviously. But Debrith is said to still esteem him above his present spouse who also happens to be his third.”
“Yes, I met the first two. How did those marriages end? Did he leave them?”
“Nay, they left him. Why, I don’t know. Though it can’t be pleasant to live with your mate’s greater admiration for another.”
It was as if a leaden weight dropped into the pit of Yovan’s stomach. “He’s open about it?”
“Quite.”
Yovan shrugged dismissively despite the turmoil within. “How imprudent of him.” He shook Keosqe’s hand. “My thanks for the information, Kes.”
He took leave of his nephew and headed out. But he’d only taken a few steps down the hallway when he stopped so suddenly, the scribe coming up behind him nearly crashed into him. With the knowledge of his spouse’s previous close acquaintance with Isron Debrith dogging him, it suddenly came to Yovan why the Deir had seemed familiar.
He was the friend Mered had seen out before he fully presented himself to Yovan and his parents that fateful day five decades ago when they first met in the red parlor of the Cordona mansion.
For a moment, Yovan thought he would pass out from the shock of his recollection. Mered had been close enough to Debrith to have welcomed him as a guest at his home. Nay, as a suitor! That explained why they addressed each other familiarly.
Yovan swallowed hard. Why had Mered not told him? And why had he frequently invited Debrith to stay over at their Rikara home? Was it possible that Mered would have accepted Debrith’s suit were it not for his parents’ decision to betroth him to Yovan?
A sense of foreboding clung to him as he returned to the town house. Keosqe’s report had stoked his doubts and misgivings further. Never mind that Debrith’s spouse was with him. Yovan had seen how willing the builder was to leave his mate to his own devices if it freed him to spend time with Mered. And Woodmere was expansive. Plenty of places to retreat to for time alone together without servants or inconvenient spouses coming upon them unawares. The thought came out of the blue and caught him off guard.
Apprehension and suspicion swept over him in a ghastly wave. He needed to get back. He needed to put an end to the fears and doubts that had plagued him for far too long. He did not want to think about what those fears and doubts pointed to. Not while he was leagues away on a sojourn expected to last several more days.
Rysander arrived at the house just after him. His son looked on in puzzlement when he ordered his steed readied and had a servant bring him a warm cloak.
“Where are you headed that you must wear this?” Rysander asked as he fingered the thick material.
“Woodmere,” Yovan tersely replied.
“But you just arrived yesterday. Why the sudden return? Is there something wrong at Woodmere?”
Yovan huffed an anxious breath. “I don’t know for certes,” he said. “I hope not.”
Rysander held him by the shoulders, a worried frown creasing his forehead. “You’re scaring me. What do you mean?”
“I—” Yovan shook his head. “I just miss your father. I must go.”
“Miss him after one day?” Rysander snorted. “I’m going with you.”
“You don’t have to, Rys.”
“The way your acting? You’re very distracted, Aba. I’ll never forgive myself were you to accidentally strand yourself mid journey. You there, fetch me my cloak,” Rysander instructed a servant.
They rode out of Rikara a few minutes later. When they were an adequate distance from the city, Rysander insisted on generating the translocation corridor for both of them.
They reached Woodmere less than an hour later, taking the estate staff by surprise since Yovan was not expected to return for at least a week. The butler and several servants rushed to the front door to welcome them home.
As they entered the house, Yovan caught sight of Debrith’s spouse through a window walking by himself down the side path leading to the gardens in the back and further on the lake. Meanwhile, Rysander announced he was in need of sustenance and headed for the cold kitchen, the butler hot on his heels to instruct the cooks to put together an afternoon snack for him.
Yovan turned to the servant who was picking up Rysander’s belongings and asked, “Where is Mered?”
The Deir thought for a moment then brightened and said, “Ah, he and the builder Debrith retired to the game room for a round of strategy, Dyhar.”
Yovan raised his eyebrows at that. Mered had never been fond of strategy. He enjoyed cards more and preferred playing in one of the parlors. And why exclude Debrith’s spouse? Perhaps the Deir had declined in favor of strolling around the grounds. Yovan fervently tried to convince himself that was the case. He thanked the servant and headed for the game room at the far end of the corridor.
The door was closed. Yovan’s annoyance grew. He and Mered always left doors open when either was entertaining a lone guest. Closed doors fed gossip. He pushed the door to open it only to discover it was bolted shut on the inside.
Yovan stared at it in disbelief. Not only had Mered failed to leave it open, he’d locked it. Fear and suspicion surged up anew with dizzying swiftness. Striving to calm himself, he focused on sliding the bolt aside. As soon as he sensed its displacement, he pushed the door inward with a trembling hand. Its hinges well oiled, the door swung open noiselessly. Yovan stepped into the chamber.
He stared at the two huddled together on the couch, Mered resting his head on Debrith’s shoulder as he laughed lowly at some jest the latter had uttered. Debrith’s arm was around his shoulders and the Deir had pulled him flush against his side. He now slipped a finger under Mered’s chin and tipped his face up so that their eyes met. Yovan could stand the sight no longer.
How absorbed you are in your lover that you can’t sense my presence, ariad.
He watched with bleak satisfaction as Mered jerked away from Debrith and turned his head. His eyes widened and he blanched until his freckles could be discerned from across the room.
Yovan felt his insides roil in his rage. He had to get away from the scene of his betrayal and humiliation. Had to go before he gave in to the impulse to rend and slay. Or reach into their minds and reduce them to gibbering wrecks. Brain-dead shadows of their former selves.
“Forgive me for interrupting you,” he coldly bit out.
He turned on his heel, strode swiftly down the corridor and descended the stairs to the ground floor. As he headed for the rear entrance, he heard Mered calling his name. A glance back showed his spouse dashing down the stairs, turning in the opposite direction and hurrying to the main door. He apparently thought Yovan had gone out front. Almost at the same time, Rysander came out of the cold kitchen, frowning at Mered’s frantic shouts. He did not see Yovan and followed his father instead.
Yovan tamped down hard on the fury and turmoil inside him. He hurried outside and intercepted the groom who was taking his steed to the stables. Without a word, he mounted the beast and kneed it into a trot out of the stable yard and onto the drive. As he rode into sight from the front door, Rysander dashed out to block his way. Yovan reined in his steed but not his grim demeanor.
Rysander stared up at him, his eyes round with worry and bewilderment. “Aba, where are you going?”
“Rikara.”
“Why? We just came from there.”
“Ask your father. I’m sure he’ll come up with an adequate reason.”
Yovan looked up as Mered re-emerged from the house. His glare pinned his spouse to the spot and kept him from descending the steps to join Rysander.
“Rest you, I won’t get in your way again,” he sneeringly told Mered who whitened even more than he’d thought possible. “Do extend my apologies to your paramour for my untimely intrusion.”
He did not bother to decipher Mered’s expression. Probably guilt and dismay at being caught, he bitterly deduced. The pang of betrayal worsened to an agonizing throb he could not ignore. He did not look back or heed Rysander’s shouted pleas as his mount galloped out of the courtyard and on to the field beyond.
He managed to force down his grief and concentrate on generating a portal, but as he waited for it to blossom, the grief surged right back up. Ragged sobs escaped him and tears streamed down his face. He swallowed back the sobs and savagely wiped the wetness from his eyes and cheeks. As soon as the portal opened, he entered the corridor that would take him back to the capital.
Away from his faithless love. But not the pain of a shattered heart and the trampling of his trust.