By Chance Met (13 page)

He tapped Naeth’s forehead with his finger. “You say our sire got off lightly for such a heinous offense. Insofar as lawful punishment, that may be true. But there are other ways to suffer for one’s sins, and those ways are not always visible.”

“Our parents’ marriage was one of expediency and the preservation of reputations,”

Keiran continued. “Once the madness of his lust passed,
Aba
found he and
Adda
had little in common. Oh, he was fond enough of
Adda
to temper his intolerance and rages for his sake, but, otherwise, they lived largely separate lives. Their estrangement didn’t affect
Adda
overmuch though—he focused his affection and attention on us instead. He loved us dearly, and we returned his devotion in full.”

“Was it your
adda
who raised you then?”

“For the most part. And so we not only look very much like him, we also imbibed Qindalan culture and our Dyarin kin’s way of doing things. Of course, that changed somewhat when
Aba
arranged for us to attend secondary schooling at the Rikara Academy. We kept company with our Essendri cousins and became very close to them. If
Adda
established the foundation on which we could ground ourselves, Rohyr and our other kinsfolk provided us with the means by which we could build ourselves into Deira of substance. Hale of body and whole of spirit despite
Aba
’s best efforts to beat us into submission. That was his way of coping with his sense of isolation and frustration at being bound by the consequences of his actions.”

“So he took his anger out on you.”

“Whenever
Adda
was not around to defend us, he would find some reason to punish us and take his cane to our backs. But as I said, Reijir was protective of me and would shield me as much as he could. When
Adda
died, any restraint on our sire’s part died with him.
Aba
turned on us in full, caning us frequently and meddling in all our affairs, including Reijir’s relationship with his first lover.”

Naeth involuntarily stiffened at the mention of the Herun’s earliest love. But he determinedly thrust his jealousy aside and concentrated on Keiran’s narration.

“He was quite trusting then despite the abuse we endured,” Keiran said in a hushed voice. “He still believed in the goodness and integrity of others. That lasted until
Aba
named him his heir.”

“But how did your sire circumvent the inheritance laws in the first place?” Naeth asked.

“He didn’t have to. A peer may legally bypass his eldest son in favor of a younger one if the circumstances meet any of the conditions stipulated by law.
I
met one of those conditions.” Keiran smiled faintly. “Being a breeder has proved both boon and bane for

me.”

Naeth stared at Keiran in awe.

Breeders were held in high esteem for their rarity and prolificacy. The fertility of breeders so exceeded the ordinary, they easily reproduced and could safely do so even past the age when the general ability to conceive greatly waned. The only breeder Naeth knew about was Lassen Essendri, Rohyr’s new consort.

The external physical characteristics of breeders were visible at birth—plumper nipples and slightly wider and paler areolae. Naeth could just imagine the ambitious Rodeth Arthanna’s reaction when he discovered he’d begotten a breeder son,

Unsurprisingly, Naeth’s ever present curiosity about Keiran’s relationship with Ruomi flared, but he dampened the impulse to pry. That was none of his business, and in any case, the need to learn as much as he could about the Arthannas’ less than rosy past was more pressing.

“Boon?” he repeated. “Did you not mind giving way to your brother?”

“Only insofar as the marriage
Aba
would have forced on me,” Keiran replied with some distaste. “That was the primary reason he bypassed me, of course. So that he could marry me off in exchange for more wealth and land. Had he not died in such timely fashion, I would have been wed to the Deir he’d chosen for me before that summer’s end, when I reached my majority and could defy him. But other than that, I was relieved to be spared Reijir’s burden. Inheriting Ilmaren meant inheriting the ills foisted on the fief during our sire’s reign.”

Keiran grimaced in recollection. “Reijir spent all his early years as Herun repairing the damage
Aba
left behind and restoring our people’s faith in our family. Unfortunately, he couldn’t fix the mess
Aba
made of that affair I mentioned. Or rather he couldn’t ignore what our sire exposed when he moved to break it up. Reijir changed after that. He closed up and never again fostered deep relationships save with those of our family he already loved and trusted.”

Naeth shivered, appalled by the discovery of such pained and sordid experiences in his benefactors’ past. He would never have guessed it judging from the brethren’s privileged life and the great wealth and social positions that provided them with that life.

“Why did you tell me all this?” he asked.

Keiran folded his arms. “Best you make your choice based on hard truth however sordid than on pretty but false fancies,” he declared. “That way lie regret and recrimination.”

Naeth frowned. “Make my choice?”

“Whether to pursue your heart’s desire or not.” Color quickly rose in Naeth’s cheeks, prompting Keiran to add, “You will reach the age of consent in a few months. Reijir will likely return to this house then, when you no longer present a forbidden temptation to him. But I think you know as well as I that he won’t make a move unless he’s absolutely certain of your willingness.”

“Yes, I know that,” Naeth admitted. “I’ve always known that.”

“Excellent. So, kitten, what think you now of my brother?” Keiran gazed searchingly at Naeth. And then he laughed, as much from amusement as from pleasure. “I seem to have done him a good turn by telling you this much about him.”

Naeth shyly smiled. “I hope he agrees with you when he comes home.”

“I hope so, too,” Keiran said.

He rose and headed for the door. As he opened it, he looked back at Naeth, his eyes a-twinkle with green flame.

“And if he doesn’t, I’m sure you’ll find a way to convince him otherwise.”

He’d intended it as a treat for the youth, this chance to witness history in the making as the Ardan of Ylandre took to spouse his long-time leman to whom incidentally he had also soul-bound. It was an unprecedented move considering Rohyr had still been wed to his first consort at the time.

Granted, he had very reluctantly married Tyrde Kardova in handfasting rites that precluded the blessings of the church and allowed for lawful dissolution of the union.

Still, the whole business had generated considerable controversy and would have had the legal experts arguing about the validity of it all for years to come had Tyrde not rendered the issue moot by getting himself killed in rather spectacular fashion.

But that was neither here nor there.

The point of Reijir’s rueful musings was that he’d unwittingly laid himself open once more to the temptation he’d tried to resist by leaving Rikara and staying away from his official townhome the few times he’d come to the city. But then how could he have known that Naeth would be a vision of youthful pulchritude and dazzling sweetness when formally attired and grown to the verge of physical maturity?

He’d had to remind himself not to stare overmuch when he espied his ward at Keiran’s side from across the reception hall. And it had taken all his resolve to resist the impulse to take Naeth home after the celebrations and ravish him senseless, society’s judgment and the law be damned.

Happy as he’d been for Rohyr and Lassen, that joy had been lessened by the inner struggle to leave the youth untouched and himself unentangled just yet in what could result in a liaison of depth and intensity. It was something he had assiduously avoided for many years now.

Perhaps if he’d kept away until Naeth’s begetting day toward the year’s end, he might have been able to forget and move past that meeting and its impact on him.

Certainly when he wrote the youth from Ilmaren the week after, he’d felt quite confident that his urges had been adequately quelled. But then business that needed his personal attention forced him to return to the city a mere fortnight later, thereby putting him once more in proximity to Naeth.

That should not have been a problem either if it was simply a matter of avoiding physical contact with the youth. But unfortunately, even the mere sight of him was enough to set Reijir’s imagination and libido on fire. And he had seen Naeth around the city, especially when he came to the west district with friends to sample the entertainment offerings of the famed Quarter.

He forced himself to focus on the document before him. It needed his signature, and Ruomi was just awaiting it before hastening to the bank before it closed for the day. He frowned, wondering why the words seemed familiar. Reijir swore under his breath when he realized he’d just read the same paragraph three times in a row.

Annoyed with himself, he stood up and paid a visit to the liquor cabinet across the

room. After pouring himself a glass of Sidonan brandy, he returned to his desk and, downing a third of the libation, resolutely read the document through. Satisfied, he signed it then called to Ruomi to enter the study.

His adjutant came in and, taking the document, scanned it swiftly to make sure all was in order.

“Will you make it?” Reijir ruefully asked.

Ruomi nodded. “There’s more than enough time. And besides, the bank doorkeeper knows me well. He’ll let me in no matter the hour.”

Reijir briefly chuckled. “Whatever would I do without you, Ruo?”

“Not very well, I fear,” Ruomi replied with a small smile.

“And Keiran would do even worse,” Reijir lightly added.

They grinned at each other in agreement before Ruomi made to leave. But just as he reached the door, he stopped and turned back.

“Ah, I almost forgot—Keiran asked me to give this to you,” he apologetically said, pulling an envelope from inside his tunic. He handed it to Reijir. “He said it might prove soothing for your present state of mind.”

As soon Ruomi left, Reijir opened the envelope and drew out the letter within. He read the missive, his eyes widening when he came to Keiran’s main reason for writing it.

He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead with his fingers.

Keiran was right. There was something liberating about not having to keep so many secrets. It was soothing indeed. But then his brother had to go on and recount the aftermath of his talk with Naeth. Now something else needed to be eased!

He returned to his desk and tossed back the remainder of the brandy, welcoming the distracting burn as the liquid made its way down his throat. He quickly looked through the remaining papers on his desk and came upon a long report with exceptionally atrocious handwriting. Reading it would likely strain his eyes and give him a headache of some consequence.

Reijir sat down and applied himself to making sense of the document. With luck, deciphering the hideous scrawl would keep him nicely occupied for a goodly while.

Chapter Ten

An unseasonably early snowfall did not deter Keiran from throwing a sumptuous begetting day feast for Naeth. Nor were Naeth’s university friends and the instructors closest to him hindered in attending the celebration.

Every guest was warmly welcomed as they arrived and promptly relieved of their damp cloaks and thick gloves. They were each handed a glass of mulled ale and ushered up to the large reception hall where long tables were laden with dishes of sweet-salty haronuts, dainty rounds of crisp toast spread with creamy herb-encrusted soft cheese, roasted mushrooms marinated in wine, tiny skewers of grilled breast of tomquail and bite-sized roehart slices in a sweet-sour sauce of Khitairan origin. Servants went around to offer more ale, fine wine, and spiced cranapple cider for those who did not care for alcoholic libations.

As expected, minstrels and other musicians entertained the guests, as did

professional dancers who lured a few brave souls into joining their ranks for a turn or two on the space provided in the center of the hall. But Keiran went one step further, bringing in
hethare
who mingled with the guests and regaled them with witty banter, juicy gossip, and many a wondrous tale.

Their presence left several of Naeth’s schoolmates agape and wide-eyed and a little hopeful that more than convivial company would be had from these fabled Deira who were also renowned for their prowess between the sheets and the high price attached to availing of that particular service. But they hoped in vain for
hethare
never solicited patrons at social gatherings nor did they ply that side of their profession outside of the privacy of their clubs or, if they took long-term lovers, their own homes.

But even the
hethare
paled in comparison beside some of the guests in terms of the awe and excitement they generated with their mere presence. For how could anyone compete with scions of the highest House in the land?

Naeth could not believe it when the Mithani brothers Aeldan and Ashrian entered the hall followed by Eiren Sarvan and his cousin Rysander Seydon whom he remembered from that years-ago brawl at the Vomare. Also present were Essendris he had met during his two visits to the Citadel—Rysander’s sire, Yovan, and his wealthy spouse, Mered, the Calanthe twins, and young Shino Essendri, who promptly sidled up to the enigmatic Herun of Ziana, Tenryon Hadrana, as soon as he appeared with his dashing diplomat brother, Jareth.

Nigh following in their footsteps, Ylandre’s Interior Affairs Minister, Keosqe Deilen, entered the hall, preceding no less than the Ardan’s half-brother, Dylen Essendri, and Ambassador Riodan Leyhar, both lately arrived from a mission together in South Vihandra. And then Rohyr Essendri and his beloved consort, Lassen, arrived.

Naeth had thought nothing could possibly top the moment when the Ardan and his mate extended their greetings to him. Until Reijir strolled into the hall just when Naeth had despaired of his coming to the feast.