| |
Mered gazed at him long and longingly. With a moan, he launched himself at Yovan, straddled his lap and sealed their mouths together with such yearning and passion, it would not have been surprising had they set the couch ablaze.
Yovan held him tightly, relishing the heat and closeness of their bodies once more pressed against each other in love and lust. He broke their kiss so he could run his lips over Mered’s jaw and neck, ripping his collar open to expose more of his throat. Mered gasped as bruises were sucked into his flesh. He frantically undid Yovan’s tunic and jerkin and the shirt beneath, popping off a few buttons in the process.
“Please, beloved,” he begged. “It’s been so lonely. I’ve missed you so.”
“As I have missed you,” Yovan said. “I want you in my bed forthwith.”
Mered inhaled sharply. He scrambled off Yovan’s lap and grabbed his hands. Chuckling, Yovan let Mered pull him to his feet and draw him toward the bedchamber. Hardly were they within and Yovan had elbowed the door shut behind him when Mered began to undress, kicking off his shoes and doffing his clothes.
“Eager are we?” Yovan teased as he disrobed.
“Before you change your mind,” Mered said as he quickly stripped off his shirt. “You still might,” he insisted when Yovan laughed.
“Doubtful when I have such an abundance of graces before me,” Yovan’s retorted. He moved close and murmured into Mered’s ear. “Graces I’m relieved to know still mine alone to enjoy.”
Mered shivered and closed his eyes a space. When he opened them, they were a-gleam with adoration. “Always yours alone,” he half whispered. “There can be no one else. Please say you believe me.”
Yovan smiled. “I do. Now drop your breeches and get yourself on the bed.”
He grinned when Mered all but ripped off his breeches and drawers, clambered onto the bed and lay on his back. At first he almost shyly covered his groin but one pointed glance from Yovan had him pulling away his hand which he laid on his belly instead. Yovan raked his naked form with a hungry gaze, intentionally lingering on Mered’s chest and crotch. Mered whimpered softly at the visual feasting on his graces.
At last, Yovan slid onto the bed and straddled Mered’s hips. He bent down to seal their lips together while lightly thumbing Mered’s nipples. At once, Mered arched into his touch while he slipped his tongue between Yovan’s lips. Yovan groaned and met the sensual incursion until they were kissing as if they hoped to solder their mouths together for good.
“I love you so much,” Mered mumbled against his lips. “Don’t leave me again. I won’t ever give you reason to leave me again.”
Yovan drew away and gazed at his mate. Though Mered had let him into his thoughts earlier, he found himself seeking more reassurance of wholly returned love and unwavering loyalty. The certitude that he could truly trust his mate again.
Mered knew what Yovan needed. If only he had followed his instincts from the start, his beloved’s confidence in their union, in him, would still be complete. There would be no stain on his honor, no scars that would fade but might never truly disappear. And so he opened himself without reservation to that searching stare. If he had to reveal himself heart, body and spirit to regain Yovan’s full trust and unreserved love, then so be it. His beloved deserved it all and so much more.
Perhaps Yovan saw his complete capitulation for his eyes glittered with promise. Mered’s heart beat wildly as he was pressed into the mattress and kissed with such heart-stopping gentleness it rendered him breathless. He expected a little foreplay but to his surprise, Yovan straightened up, took his hand and guided it to their hardening shafts.
He folded Mered’s fingers around his length then mirrored the action with him. He leaned down to bless Mered’s mouth anew with his inimitable kisses. Together, they stroked each other while their lips clung in heated harmony, so reminiscent of their first sexual encounter in Yovan’s university office a half-century ago. Their breaths quickened, becoming shallower with every slip and slide of their fingers.
Mered realized why Yovan had started their lovemaking thusly. This was his way of banishing the images that had hurt and repelled him. By claiming what Mered had not permitted his erstwhile suitor, Yovan was wiping them from his mind and replacing them with indelible visions of the mutual sharing of their bodies. But it was not only for his sake. Yovan was also helping Mered supplant his memories of those unwanted encounters.
Light brown eyes, pale skin, and a torso and limbs only occasionally subjected to physical exertion receded before an ocean-hued gaze, sun-kissed flesh, and a lean, hard body with sleekly muscled arms and legs to match. And Yovan’s deep, dulcet voice swept the middling tones of his would-be rival into the distant recesses of Mered’s mind. Happy tears stung his eyes and he smiled in gratitude.
Yovan smiled back and pushed Mered’s hand aside. Mered moaned when Yovan wrapped both his hands around their slicked shafts and stroked them in unison. The resulting pleasure proved too much. After such a long abstention from sexual intimacy with his mate, Mered’s spiral into completion could not be stalled for long.
He almost howled as his orgasm ripped through him. Yovan soon followed him and their seed stippled their bellies and smeared their groins. Mered clutched at Yovan’s thighs, trembling from the delicious shock of his climax.
“Veres almighty,” he whispered. “Hold me, Van. Ah, I need you to hold me!”
Yovan lay beside him and wove his arms around him. Mered turned into his embrace and clung to him as a mariner held on to a piece of his wrecked ship to stay afloat and alive. Only when he calmed did Yovan pull up a corner of the bedding and use it to wipe their lower bodies clean. Still Mered cuddled up to him and nuzzled his throat and chest.
“Thank you,” he murmured. “You fill up my hand like no other,” he added to ensure Yovan understood what he had thanked him for.
His soft laughter assured Mered that his spouse knew. “Mayhap that’s one benefit from your misadventure since it provided an adequate comparison to what I can offer you,” Yovan lightly teased.
Mered snorted and shook his head adamantly. “I never cared to compare you to anyone, more so if it meant behaving like a cur to do so. Besides, who is there to match you? You’ve always more than sufficed. Indeed, beyond what I could ever need or desire.”
Yovan blushed slightly, a charming sight that set Mered’s pulse racing once more. He gazed at Yovan with bone-deep yearning. “I missed you so much,” he murmured. “When I believed I would never have this with you again, I—” He swallowed painfully. “I thought I’d go mad. I can’t bear to even think of a life without you. Without your loving.” He clung to Yovan more tightly. “I pray I can make amends for what I did.”
He felt a kiss pressed to his forehead. “You’ve already started,” he heard Yovan whisper.
Yovan rolled him on his back and insinuated his hips between Mered’s parted thighs. Mered promptly spread his legs as widely as he could. Soon warm, thrilling caresses brushed his cheeks, his throat and shoulders and wandered down to his chest. Lips lightly nibbled his nipples until they stiffened and ached with need. He gasped when Yovan ground their groins together, rhythmically sliding their lengths against the other, causing sharp bolts of sensation to steal up their spines. With the renewed pleasure threatening to push him over the edge, he could no longer hold back.
He hoarsely pleaded, “Please, Van, I need you... please...” He hesitated. “That is... if you would deign to soil yourself with one as base as I.”
Yovan felt a pang of sorrow amid the waves of his lust. “You still think yourself my inferior,” he murmured. “All these years and you still deem yourself lower than I.”
“Because I am,” Mered said. “You’re a royal-blooded highborn. I’m just a bastard of unsavory origins.”
“Sweet Veres,” Yovan almost groaned. “Your parents really instilled that belief in you. And in my zeal to teach you to fit in, I may have strengthened it. Ah, I was blind not to see how you saw yourself all these decades.”
“But society—” Mered started to protest.
Yovan cut him off. “You’re not my inferior. You’re my mate and therefore my equal, society’s opinions be damned. You should be able to speak freely to me, to disagree or tell me off if you think I’m wrong.” He tenderly stroked Mered’s cheek. “Promise me you’ll never treat yourself as less than I. Promise me, ariad.”
Mered nodded. “I promise.”
“And you should know, I truly appreciate the tactics you used to keep them from forcing you to do the worst of their dirty deeds,” Yovan told him. “You kept your wits about you in spite of your doubts and fears. I’m proud of you, Mer.”
His countenance aglow with happiness, Mered said, “Have me, Van. Love me.”
Yovan leaned down. “Always, my sweet,” he murmured, bestowing kisses upon Mered’s fluttering lids. “My treasure.” He showered butterfly caresses on Mered’s cheeks. “My heart.”
Tears glistened in Mered’s eyes. “And you are my life,” he whispered.
Yovan’s gaze warmed to molten. Keeping his eyes on Mered, he reached into the side table and withdrew a bottle of oil. He uncorked the bottle and anointed his fingers with the fragrant liquid. He returned the bottle to the table uncorked. He definitely intended to use the oil more than once.
With a smile, Yovan slipped his hand behind Mered’s sac to slide a slicked finger up his backside. Mered gasped and canted his buttocks upward to make it easier for Yovan to ready him. All the while they gazed at each other with unabashed affection and passion.
When he deemed his spouse sufficiently prepared, Yovan lowered his mouth to Mered’s and recaptured his lips. Mered eagerly wrapped his legs around Yovan’s waist. Without separating their lips, Yovan slowly eased his shaft into Mered so that they both felt every sensation until they were breathing raggedly into each other’s mouth.
I love you, Mer. Never doubt that I do.
Mered nearly wept at this first step in Yovan’s renewal of trust in him. He was under no illusion all was completely restored. But the implied desire for accord of heart and mind between them was more than enough to calm his fears and assure him he had not lost this most beloved of Deira. Trembling in delight, he moaned against Yovan’s lips as his mate began a motion almost as ancient as Aisen itself, driving deep into him while he delved the recesses of his mouth. He opened his thoughts to Yovan, hoping his mate would sense his mind’s attempt to reach out to him.
Thank you, ariad. To my dying day, all that I am and hope to be are yours. Only you and yours.
He thrilled to Yovan’s sweet reply.
As I am and always will be, my love.
Equal parts pleasure and joy coursed through him as he pushed back onto Yovan’s thrusts. Their intimacy after so long apart stoked their passion into a virtual conflagration.
Yovan slipped his arms under Mered and sitting up on his knees, lifted him until he sat astride his thighs. Mered uttered a gasp when the sensation of fullness grew more acute as he came to rest upon Yovan’s lap.
Gathered against his mate, he found his lips devoured anew. He savored the intense closeness of their position, mouths, torsos, groins and limbs pressed against or wrapped around the other. Yovan held his hips, keeping him from moving overmuch, controlling their movement while angling his upward thrusts to languidly stroke him within.
Slowly, gently, they rocked their hips together, savoring the pleasure that seeped into their veins, crept into their muscles, leaked into their nerves, building to an explosive climax. Tremors savaged their sinews, the thrill of impending release flowed through their limbs and washed over them until, at last, they could take no more.
With a groan, Yovan grasped Mered by the hips and pushed him down urgently upon his length. It proved Mered’s undoing.
He cried out repeatedly as he was swept away on wave after wave of pure ecstasy. Impaling himself to the brim, he took Yovan along with him into mindless bliss. For the longest while, they held each other tightly, unmindful of the semen smeared on their bellies, so reluctant were they to part after such voracious loving.
There had been a purity to this coupling, a sweetness they had not experienced in the longest time.
Eventually, Yovan pulled out of Mered and cleaned them both up. They lay side by side facing each other. Loath to separate from Yovan, Mered entangled their legs and laid his head in the crook of his mate’s neck. He heard Yovan’s soft chuckle and gleefully nestled even closer against him.
After a long contented while, Mered raised his head and murmured, “Van?”
“Hmm?”
“I know it’s overly late to ask this now, but will you imprint me?”
Yovan looked at him, surprised. “Wherefore? As you said, it’s overly late. I hardly think there’s a need for it now.”
“It’s just that... I can’t begin to approach your mental giftedness,” Mered explained. “It’s what’s kept us from experiencing the utmost closeness I’ve heard equally gifted Deira share. If viratha will open that door for us, then I want you to imprint me.”
“Viratha is primarily a means to prevent a leman from being intimate with someone else other than his lover,” Yovan reminded him. “Those who suggested I imprint you when we were newly wed wanted to ensure you didn’t play me false. As a scion of the Royal House, I had to be certain of your fidelity. After all, we were still strangers and didn’t know if we could fully trust each other. But that’s no longer the case, is it?”
Yovan smiled as Mered’s eyes lighted up at the reiteration of his restored faith in him. “If you desire viratha just so we can engage in mind-speech, know that it isn’t necessary,” he continued. “Imprinting does facilitate it by creating a mental bond that would allow me access to your thoughts at all times and let me know that you desire to communicate thusly with me. I would still have to open a channel between us but you wouldn’t have to tell me nor would I have to enter your mind. Viratha offers ease and convenience but if all you want is for us to speak mind to mind, well, we were doing that already albeit limited by the restrictions we agreed on.”
Mered stared at him. “You explained it to me back then. Or tried to. But I didn’t really listen, did I?
Yovan pursed his lips then nodded. “And you asked me to desist from reading your thoughts without your knowledge or permission, so I—” Yovan broke off. “They told you not to let me imprint you because it would open your mind completely to me. But in truth they didn’t want you in thrall to me and thus be unable to dally with others.”
He shook his head when Mered’s eyes widened in dismayed recollection. “Small wonder you looked panicked when I broached the idea to you. The excuse you offered was a falsehood. They coached you to say it hurt you that I didn’t trust you not to stray.” He stroked a finger soothingly down one freckled cheek when Mered shamefacedly nodded. “And frightened you into believing you’d be unable to hide anything from me if you let me imprint you.”
Mered caught his hand to his lips and kissed the palm lingeringly. He raised damp eyes to him. “Yet another pack of lies,” he bitterly said. “And weak-brained fool that I am, I swallowed them all and hobbled our marriage almost from the start.”
“Or mayhap they really thought that’s what imprinting entails as well,” Yovan mused. “There are many misconceptions about viratha amongst those without the gift.” He cupped Mered’s face. “But you are not a weak-brained fool. You were young and gullible and inexperienced. They conditioned you to believe I’d cast you aside if you revealed too much. I said it before, I’ll repeat it now. You’re a true innocent in this shameless saga your family embroiled us in. Your main failing was not trusting me.”
Mered blinked hard. “Yet you forgave me and so much more,” he half whispered. “I’ll never understand why Veres deemed me deserving of you, but I’m grateful He did. So very grateful.” He snuggled into Yovan’s arms. “From hereon, my mind is yours to plumb whenever you wish. I’ll never shield my thoughts from you again.”
“Nay, your mind is your own,” Yovan protested. “I won’t invade it uninvited.”
“But I give you leave to do so,” Mered insisted. “Keeping those secrets all these years brought me naught but shame and torment. I shall share all of myself with you from now on. I want to, Van. Please let me.”
He clung tightly to Yovan. “I regret so much that I didn’t let you perform viratha on me. Had I done so, I would have had the perfect reason to refuse their demands. I wish I could go back and do it over. I wish I could forget.”
Yovan kissed him gently. “We’ll never truly forget what happened. Neither can we pretend everything will be resolved without hard work on our part. But we will work hard to keep our marriage, won’t we?”
When Mered smiled tearfully and agreed, Yovan smiled back. “Then look forward, beloved, not back. Let’s promise each other the reward of a stronger union and greater happiness if we succeed. Nay, when we succeed. And in any case, we have many good memories to see us through this. We were happy despite your family’s interference. I don’t regret our marriage one whit. I don’t regret having you in my life.”
Mered’s eyes widened, bright and limpid with wonder and joy. “Read my thoughts,” he whispered. “See what I’m thinking right now.”
There was something more in Mered’s request than implying his willingness to completely lower his shields. Yovan gazed at him to ascertain it was truly what he wanted. When he saw naught but eagerness in Mered’s eyes, he complied.
He was at once inundated with words and images of such scarlet intensity, his shaft surged back into rigid attention with a swiftness he last recalled experiencing during the early years of their marriage. He gasped aloud as vision after wanton vision of his mate paraded before his mind’s eye.
Mered’s long legs slung over his shoulders, his wrists firmly held down on either side as he happily bore the plowing of his arse...
Sucking Yovan’s shaft greedily while his groin hovered over Yovan’s face allowing him to swallow Mered’s dangling length, lick his sac and dip his tongue into his sheath...
His limbs spread wide to reveal his seed pouch lifting to expose his sheath swelling open as Yovan stroked the delicate lips and dipped his fingers into its slick depths...
Down on his knees with his face pressed into a pillow and reaching behind to part his own buttocks to entice Yovan to pound into his arse...
On his side with Yovan behind him, his shaft thrusting into Mered’s backside as he stroked his rigid length...
Repeatedly lowering himself to take Yovan’s length into his sheath, his own shaft bouncing between them while Yovan kneaded his chest and thumbed his nipples...
Accompanying the lubricious montage was a litany of demands and pleas to be loved and owned.
Harder... Deeper... Please, oh please... Have me... Cleave me... Love me... Make me scream your name... Make me yours... Only and ever yours!
Yovan did not bother to restrain himself. It would be fruitless in any case.
He bore Mered onto his back, hoisted his legs over his shoulders, held his hands down by the wrists and stuffed his aching member into Mered’s arse which was still slick from oil and semen. At the same time he bent and sealed their mouths in a searing kiss, stifling Mered’s strangled gasp at his sudden piercing.
Granted full access to Mered’s mind, he knew he had not hurt his mate and indeed pleased him. And so he set to pounding him into the mattress.
I will have you. I will make you scream my name. You’ll need to cushion your delectable arse all of tomorrow, my sweet. I won’t spare your sheath either. We’re bathing together after this and then I’m going to grant your wish to be ravished every which way. Are you up to it?
Mered whimpered at a particularly hard thrust, but his response to Yovan’s challenge belied any possible discomfort.
Yes! I’m more than up to it. You haven’t fucked me so thoroughly in years. I missed having you inside me. I missed your loving. Own me, Van. Please, beloved!
What could Yovan do after so ardent a request but fulfill Mered’s wishes to the best of his considerable abilities and spend nearly the whole night engaging in every manner of bed-play his mate desired of him. And then some.
––––––––
Morning found them engaged in coitus again. Yovan awakened to the rapturous sensations of his shaft all but swallowed to the root. Before too long, it reached the stiffness required for a proper spearing. Whereupon, a grinning Mered crept up from between his legs and straddled his groin. Having apparently fingered his sheath while he sucked Yovan’s shaft, his body was now ready for genital penetration. With a happy sigh, he sank down and gloved Yovan to the hilt.
He proceeded to impale himself with many a hiss and moan stoking Yovan’s passion even further. Recalling how glorious the previous night had been, he resolved to make the morning after as memorable. He bucked up to meet his mate’s downward movements eliciting more sounds of pleasure from both of them. His eyes fell upon Mered’s shaft, bouncing with every movement of his hips. He reached for it and proceeded to stroke the column of flesh. His other hand he slipped under to fondle Mered’s seed sac.
His ministrations elicited the responses he desired. Mered started to sob in earnest while Yovan found himself gasping raggedly as he was ridden more roughly. Soon they were groaning loudly in concert as pleasure spiraled. In the face of their impending orgasms, joy blossomed anew between them.
The door suddenly swung open and Rysander burst in, his face a picture of alarm and concern. An instant later, both gave way to horror and dismay.
“My sainted uncle!” he gasped. “I thought— Deity’s blood, I’ll never unsee this!”
He turned on his heel and dashed out of the bedchamber. Yovan and Mered stared after him and then at each other. Mered giggled. Yovan snickered.
“Perhaps we should go to him,” Mered reluctantly suggested.
“Nay, finish what you started, ariad,” Yovan said. “He should have known better than to barge in without knocking. It’s hardly our fault he didn’t use his common sense.”
“I heard that!” an indignant Rysander called from the sitting room.
They laughed at their son’s response. With a grin, Mered resumed riding Yovan’s shaft while Yovan stroked and fondled him in turn until they were utterly lost in ecstasy and each other. When they found release, they voiced their pleasure without restraint.
At length, Mered dismounted and bonelessly collapsed on Yovan. Only after they subsided into post-orgasmic languor did they remember their son was awaiting them in the sitting room.
“Think you he’ll recover from this?” Mered lazily murmured.
“He’s your son,” Yovan answered. “I’m sure he will.”
“I hope so,” Mered said with a laugh. “Perhaps we should go to him now.”
Yovan sighed. “Much as I would love to just lie here with you until noon, I suppose it’s our duty to tend to his bruised sensibilities.”
They rose and pulled on whatever clothing they laid a hand on. Yovan chuckled when he realized he had donned Mered’s shirt which was a tad too long in the sleeves and Mered had pulled on Yovan’s which was a mite too short at the hem and missing a few buttons as well. But he did not particularly care. They looked like a couple again. They were a couple again.
They strolled arm in arm into the sitting room. Rysander was half reclined on the couch with a hand over his eyes as if to shield them from some awful sight. But then he peeked through his fingers and when he saw they were decently if not quite correctly attired, he jumped to his feet and glared accusingly at the both of them.
“I didn’t knock because I thought you were in trouble, Aba!” he exclaimed. “What in Aisen was I supposed to make of all that groaning and moaning? I thought you were injured or ill so I rushed in!” He wiped his hand down his face. “How was I to know you’d be going at it like coneys in a rut? That message you had me convey to Ama led me to think you were about to end your marriage, not couple with him all night!”
Mered caught his breath and hurried to their shaking son to hug him. Yovan asked, “Where did you think your father had gone after our talk?”
“To Havir’s house,” Rysander promptly replied. “It’s where he stayed after the garden party. Or where he told me he’d stay. He claimed Remir invited him.” He peered disapprovingly at his father. “You still haven’t explained why you misled us and followed Aba to war.”
“He told me everything and I’m satisfied with his explanation,” Yovan informed him. “But why did you think he would keep company with your grandfather and uncle when he’d vowed never to have anything to do with them again?”
Rysander shook his head. “Ama told me he would try and resolve matters with you and not to wait up for him because he thought you’d have a long talk. When the servants told me this morn that he didn’t come home I came here. But the retainers said they hadn’t seen him either and you hadn’t come to breakfast which is very unlike you so I feared the worst and thought you’d sent Ama away and he’d got all upset and gone to the manse because it’s closer to the Citadel and safer to travel considering the late hour or so I believed.” He inhaled deeply after spouting a long run-on sentence without pausing for breath. “I admit I wasn’t thinking very sensibly, but can you blame me?”
Yovan smiled and joined Mered in hugging their son. “Nay, we can’t,” he fondly said. “You’ve been so patient and understanding despite all your fears. You don’t deserve to be chided for concluding thusly even if your conclusion wasn’t exactly logical.”
Rysander rolled his eyes at the backhanded jibe.
Mered looked from one to the other, his eyes narrowing. “You called Havir and your Oda Remir by their names. Why—” He stared at Yovan. “You told him?”
“I did,” Yovan admitted. “It was time he knew the reason we were nearly torn asunder.”
“And the depths to which those fiends would stoop to accrue more riches,” Rysander added. “I’m glad Asrael isn’t my grandsire. Better some no-name lowborn than the scoundrel he turned out to be.”
Mered bit his lip. “That no-name lowborn raped your grandfather,” he softly said,
“I didn’t say he was a good Deir,” Rysander said. “Only that a common peasant or laborer is far better than the likes of the Cordonas. You’re the sole exception, Ama.”
He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “I wonder though, is it possible you got your beauty and good nature from the coldblood who sired you? For that matter, how do we really know he raped Remir? He isn’t here to tell us his side of the story. For all we know, Remir said he was assaulted rather than admit he’d consorted with a complete stranger because he was all drugged up.”
Yovan pursed his lips. “That makes so much sense. It’s very likely that’s what really happened.”
“But if so... did Asrael know or suspect the truth?” Mered wondered.
“Doubtful. Else he would have divorced Remir for saddling him with a child he definitely knew wasn’t his and all because of Remir’s promiscuity and over use of opiates. Of course, he might have belatedly discovered the truth which would explain why he became progressively hostile to you. But it’s moot now that he’s dead. And it doesn’t justify how he blackmailed you into servicing certain of the bank’s clients.”
“I never serviced anyone,” Mered huffed. He subsided and looked down, his face flushing. “Except... him,” he muttered. “Heyas, the very thought of it makes me feel so dirty all over again.”
Yovan pulled him into his arms and soothingly rubbed his back. “You only beguiled him with your charm and a few favors, none of which were enough to break our compact.” He pressed a lingering kiss to Mered’s lips. “Our love and life together.”
Rysander groaned. “Veres preserve me! Isn’t it enough I’ll be scarred for life after seeing the both of you doing... that?”
“That?” Yovan guffawed. Keeping his arm around Mered’s waist, he turned to face his son. “No true Essendri would use so vague a term for ‘fucking’.”
“Oh, yes he would if he was talking about his parents!” Rysander retorted. He shuddered slightly. “I’ve been needlessly traumatized, I tell you.”
This time Mered spoke up. “And will you say the same of your sons should one or all pop in while their father is riding your shaft?”
Yovan laughed until his sides ached while Rysander covered his ears to ward off more salacious pronouncements.
“Just bolt the door next time,” he begged. “Please.’
After a mirthful while, Mered frowned and said, “I do wish there was some way to bring my brother to heel. I would dearly love to see him and Ama get their comeuppance.”
“What about Ovreth and Davre?” Yovan asked.
“They I will ignore the same way they turned a blind eye to my troubles.” Mered scowled. “But Havir and Ama? Would that I could afflict them with the same sickness that freed me of Asrael.”
Yovan took his hand and tenderly kissed the knuckles as had long been Mered’s wont with him. Mered’s scowl faded away to be replaced by a small adoring smile.
“I believe you’ve already accomplished that,” Yovan said. “When you told me the truth, they lost their hold on you and you gained control of them in turn. Worse for them, I didn’t cast you aside as they’d said I would. They’ve been exposed as cheats and liars lacking in loyalty even to close kin.”
“I wager that weighed heavily on Asrael in his final hours which is probably why he told Havir about you,” he added. “It was a last-ditch attempt to keep you from speaking and revealing all. He must have wondered if his legacy would be ruined and whether Bank Cordona would survive if you broke your silence. Imagine the fear and consternation he felt at the last.”
Rysander sniffed. “Well, he only got what he deserved. Actually he deserved much worse for mistreating Ama.”
“I concur,” Yovan said. “Your family has everything to lose now that you’re no longer fettered by their threats, Mer. They likely fear you as much as you once feared them. After all, you were one of them. You know everything about them. Their lack of scruples. Their willingness to sacrifice kinsfolk for gain. Their methods of attracting and then tying clients and investors to them.”
“Their whoring themselves is an open secret in our circles,” Mered pointed out.
“Their circles,” Yovan corrected.”You’re not a part of those circles and neither are the majority of bluebloods who became clients and investors. I wager they’ll be horrified to be associated with such lowlife dealings, at least in public. Status and image are very important amongst the upper crust after all. And there’s something else. You didn’t say so outright, but when I read your memories, there were hints amongst them of coercion and extortion.”
Mered exhaled and nodded. “Asrael used to boast about how he duped investors or blackmailed clients into acceding to his wishes. Ama did so to a lesser extent, but Havir is as bad as his sire.”
“Such information would lose them their place in society,” Yovan said. “That place relies very heavily on their kinship-by-affinity to me. And it’s always been a tenuous relationship. They’re aware of my dislike of them and that only my love for you held me to our marriage. So they stoked your sense of unworthiness and played on your fears that I would divorce you if I decided you were too lowly for me. They wanted to keep you in a state of uncertainty about me and what I might do.”
“Witness how Asrael used the circumstances of your birth to force you to comply with his plans,” he reminded Mered. “How Remir constantly harped on your so-called flaws and cautioned you against trusting me overmuch. It was a way to prevent you from confiding in me while compelling you to do your part for the business.”
“But they were also careful not to push you too hard lest you had enough and told me all,” he elaborated further. “If I divorced you, it would lose them the connection that enabled the bank’s rapid growth and expansion in the last fifty years. It was my parents and I who introduced them to the aristocracy and moneyed gentry. We even persuaded a good many of them to admit the Cordonas into their parlors. Asrael claimed at the time that they only wanted social acceptance but in truth they desired a reliable, nearly bottomless well of wealthy investors and patrons.”
“But they already had a host of them,” Rysander said in confusion.
“Most of whom are common Deira whose incomes derive from their professions and businesses,” Yovan pointed out. “They could easily lose those professions and businesses and their fortunes along with them. They’re also much more reluctant to part with their hard-earned wealth especially if they’re newly come to affluence. Hence why the Cordonas resorted to bribery, extortion and prostituting themselves in order to persuade these parvenus to put their monies in their hands.”
“It took the better part of two centuries to grow the bank to its current prosperity,” he continued. “Their original clientele could not guarantee a steady inflow of financing. Not so the upperclass. Our affluence stems mostly from land and property, much of which are inherited, and derive income from rents and produce in nigh perpetuity. Consequently, many bluebloods aren’t as stingy with their riches since they take the continuity of their income for granted.”
“Rather shortsighted of them,” Mered remarked.
“Perhaps, but not surprising. Thus far, only war and political crises have adversely affected them financially. The last time a high number of bluebloods lost their fortunes was directly after the Interregnum, And that had more to do with the forfeiture of titles by the rebels and appropriation of their lands and properties than with the Varadani occupation of the north. It’s this lucrative stratum of society the Cordonas were never able to tap until our marriage.”
“So between these two sources of financing, the Cordonas had a nigh inexhaustible supply of money to expand the bank and their business network,” Rysander ventured.
“Precisely,” Yovan said. “But while they were able to woo bluebloods to do business with them, they never attained true acceptance. Their one real connection to the highbred of the land are myself and to a certain extent you,” he told his son. “Without that connection to provide a buffer against upper class disdain, one whiff of unsavory dealings could lose them many of the wealthy patrons they gained. Perhaps too many to sustain the bank’s growth,”
“Or maintain its stability,” Mered chimed in.
Rysander sat back slack-jawed. “They wanted it all,” he remarked. “They couldn’t let go of any of their patrons, highborn or lowbred. Greed ruled them so utterly, they didn’t care who they hurt or ruined. Well, plague take them! Better yet, may Veres Almighty beggar them and cast them back into the gutters whence they came. I wager they’d fear that more than death.”
Yovan nodded. “They would. And I won’t feel an ounce of pity for them if that ever comes to pass. I can never pardon them for using us and especially your father thusly.”
“Neither can I. Indeed, I shall legally disavow them. I’ll have their surname stricken from all my records. They’d better not show their faces to us again.” Rysander rubbed his forehead. “Saints, I’m exhausted just from thinking about the whole mess.” He grimaced. “Can we talk about something else?” He eyed Yovan a tad chidingly. “I still should have gone in your place to Bavia.”
Yovan shook his head. “I would never have forgiven myself had something happened to you. You’re our only child.” He turned when he heard Mered whimper softly. “Mer? What’s wrong?”
Mered exhaled sadly. “I’m to blame. We only have Rys because I refused to carry another child. Even after I learned you couldn’t. And now it’s too late. My chances of conceiving are all but nil.”
“You are not to blame,” Yovan gently scolded him. “I saw your pain. How scared you were.”
“Aba is right,” Rysander chimed in. “You had good reason to eschew bearing another child. Though what you said about conceiving isn’t entirely correct. Improbable mayhap in the general population, but not impossible.”
“What do you mean?” Mered asked.
“Oh, Eiren expounded about conception and fertility and all that at a dinner last week,” Rysander explained, referring to his cousin, the physician Eiren Sarvan ar Mithani. “Someone asked why most Deira birth only two babes at most, while breeders can have as many as four or five. It started from there and by the time the conversation ended, we’d got to talking about Uncles Keldon and Raval and why they had only one son each whereas Uncle Imcael had three.”
“And?”
“Well, Eiren explained it likely had to do with age. Uncles Keldon and Raval were no longer in their prime—reproductive prime that is. So even if they both wed younger spouses, they probably ceased to produce enough fertile seed to sire a second child whereas Uncle Imcael married relatively young.”
“So it’s hopeless at my age,” Mered said resignedly.
“Let me finish. As a rule, Deiran fertility diminishes with age. But there are always exceptions to the rule.”
“Breeders,” Yovan put in.
Rysander shook his head. “Mostly but not all. Eiren said a small percentage of non-breeders remain fertile enough to sire or bear children in their seventies and even eighties. However, only breeders can safely carry their babes to term no matter their years. Well, except if they’re below breeding age of course, which is the norm for all Deira. But that’s neither here nor there. Anyway, non-breeders who child so late very often miscarry which is just as well else Aisen would be awash in toddlers with aged parents. But that’s why these cases have to be monitored by well-trained physicians or better yet, born healers.”
“Hm. Your grandfather was eight and seventy when he birthed me,” Yovan said. “And if I recall correctly, your Uncle Endrin sired his youngest son when he was in his eighties.”
“There, you see? So it’s improbable, but not impossible.”
Mered’s eyes took on a wistful faraway look.
“Improbable, but not impossible,” Yovan heard him repeat.