By Chance Met (22 page)

When he remained in stricken silence, Ruomi shook his head and said, “Have you told Reijir?” Again, Naeth could not answer. Ruomi sighed. “How did this happen? I thought you were being careful. Surely Reijir taught you how to prevent conception.”

Naeth raised miserable eyes to him. “He did, and we were being careful. But that night he returned from Ilmaren, he was so ill-tempered and—” Naeth grimaced. “I tried to tell him I hadn’t taken
mirash
. But he was so angry about those feuding
theina
that he—he didn’t listen. Or maybe he didn’t hear, I don’t really know.”

“So he took you unprotected.”

“Yes.”

“Why haven’t you told him?”

“Tell him that he-he—”

“Forced himself on you and got you with child—yes.”

“I can’t! I don’t want him to think he’s no different from his sire. You know what I mean, Ruo.”

Ruomi’s eyes hardened for a moment with remembrance. “Yes, I know what you

mean,” he agreed. “But what Rodeth did to me can in no way compare to Reijir’s actions

with you. Rodeth abused me and would have raped me in my minority had Keiran and Reijir not intervened. Reijir may have ignored your attempts to warn him, but you didn’t submit to him unwilling, did you?”

Naeth shook his head. “I’m never unwilling. Not with him.”

“Then it wasn’t rape and you should tell him what happened.” When Naeth flinched, Ruomi gripped his hand and squeezed it urgently. “Reijir’s trust has been much eroded and by folk he thought would never betray him. Why think you he has not engaged in a serious affair in so long a time? Until he met you, he refused to open himself to anyone outside of his family.”

“And you.”

“I earned it. And so have you. He’s learned to trust you, Naeth, but it’s still early days compared to the years he has held himself aloof from such feelings. If you keep this from him overlong, if you give him reason to believe that you’re capable of hiding something so important from him, it could hurt what you share. You could shake his trust in you. And while I doubt he would break with you over this, it could tarnish your relationship. There’s no telling where that might lead. Do you dare take the risk?”

Naeth shook his head. “I will tell him.”

“When?”

“When we return from Irdaran.”

“Delay is not your friend. Think hard about the consequences if he finds out before you inform him.”

“You wouldn’t tell him!”

“Nay, that isn’t my right. But Reijir is no fool. I guessed it. Why shouldn’t he?”

The cook and his helper returned, bringing the conversation to an end. But before he left the kitchen, Ruomi said, softly enough that only Naeth heard, “He will know the moment he sees evidence of your condition. Best you tell him before then.”

Naeth bit his lip and nodded.

Ruomi unexpectedly smiled then. “His moods have grown somewhat unpredictable of late,” he commented. “It makes it harder to anticipate what he wants, but I am glad of it nonetheless, given the cause.” He patted Naeth on the shoulder. “Don’t give him reason to rue letting you in.”

He strode off, leaving Naeth to puzzle over his statement.

When Syvan Fiori joined them on the way out of the city to the Great Field, Naeth thought he looked ill at ease and wondered what could discomfit his thus far stolid uncle to that extent.

The reason became apparent when Reijir opened a portal.

“Why so pale, Fiori-
tyar
?” Naeth heard Reijir ask. “Have you never travelled by translocation before?”

Naeth looked at Syvan and saw that he had turned rather pasty. The Deir shook his head and said a little shakily, “I never accompanied Uncle Albran on his travels outside of Sidona. And, unfortunately, my branch of the family is not as gifted.”

Reijir’s eyebrows rose in disbelief. “Are you implying Albran Fiori possessed the

ability to translocate?”

“For short distances, yes, he had the ability,” the solicitor admitted. “But he claimed it was too taxing for him to sustain a corridor for longer than the time it takes to travel from Irdaran to Rikara. He never attempted lengthier trips, and he preferred to journey by land within the fief—to conserve his strength for when he really needed it, he used to say.

But perhaps he simply didn’t enjoy travelling thusly.”

“Nay, what he claimed is likely true. Contrary to popular belief, not all True Bloods possess the ability for it, not even amongst the nobility. And for those who do, the level of power and skill varies greatly.” Reijir glanced at Naeth. “Did Morel Fiori have the gift?”

To Naeth’s surprise, Syvan nodded. “But I don’t know if he passed the gift to his sons.”

Reijir looked thoughtfully at Naeth. “Perhaps I should have Rohyr or Eiren assess you,” he remarked. “It would be a pity should you possess some skills and never be trained to use them.”

Grimacing, Naeth said, “I’m not sure I want to know. This is quite hard, learning one new thing after another about my parents and myself. I don’t know if I can bear yet another secret unveiled.”

“You’ll bear it,” Reijir told him. “You’re far stronger of heart than you give yourself credit for, Naeth-
min
. How else could you have survived your family’s passing?”

Naeth gratefully smiled. “I do know I feel braver when you’re with me,” he said.

Reijir grinned at him then lifted his hand and signaled to the rest to follow him.

They passed through the portal, a visibly distressed Syvan hesitating before entering the passageway.
It’s fortunate Sidona is near Rikara
, Naeth thought as he glanced at his uncle. He could just imagine what travelling to the midlands while inside a corridor would do to Syvan’s increasingly fraught nerves.

In the end, the solicitor proved unable to weather traveling thusly.

They emerged from the corridor a few minutes later onto a meadow blanketed by fragrant clover. Hardly had the last rider exited when Syvan hastily dismounted. He made his tottering way to a clump of shrubs where he emptied his belly, retching miserably until there was nothing left to vomit. Reijir shook his head and looked at Naeth.

“I can’t believe you’re related,” he murmured.

Naeth wanly smiled. He was not fond of the stifling closeness of a translocation corridor but neither did it unsettle him so much as to induce nausea or cause him to break out in a sweat as Syvan had. He looked elsewhere to spare his uncle further embarrassment when the latter finally returned, mopping his damp and reddened face with a now sodden handkerchief. Ruomi silently handed him a flask of water with which to wash out his sour mouth.

As soon as Syvan felt himself steady enough to remount his steed, the company set out for Irdaran.

The town was located in the hill country of Sidona. While the town proper nestled in a shallow valley, the Fiori estate lay on the other side of the encircling hills, about a league or so away.

Like many old estates, it covered an impressive number of acres. It was not self-sufficient, however, as the great herunic holdings were. The
serle
’s estates seldom produced enough for their households’ daily needs. Most baronets depended heavily on

the towns or villages of which they were patrons for much of their provisions.

Naeth could not contain his curiosity when they rode into the paved courtyard of the manse.

This was where his sire had been born, grew up and resided until well into his adult years. This place held Naeth’s family history on his sire’s side and gave the lie to his belief that he was a simple commoner.

He shook his head in awe as he viewed the stately building and its immaculately kept grounds. Yet Morel Fiori had renounced his home and heritage rather than be parted from Jiron Orosse. Naeth felt love for his parents swell in his heart. He missed them all over again with the same sharp yearning he’d known when he lost them.

Someone squeezed his shoulder, and he looked up to see Reijir regarding him sympathetically. He managed a watery smile and, squaring his shoulders, followed the Herun’s lead and dismounted. Syvan led the way into the great house.

The servants had gathered in the entry hall to welcome them. Naeth sensed their curiosity and wonder as his uncle introduced him. He smiled his thanks as they tendered him their formal greetings and hastened to take the party’s cloaks and riding gloves. One thing Naeth noted was their immediate deference to Reijir as soon as they identified his social rank. These were well-trained retainers, he realized, and used to highborn visitors to the estate. All the more did he admire his sire for choosing his lover over the wealth and privilege to which he’d been born and had expected to one day assume.

He also noticed their subservience to Syvan even after being informed that Naeth was their new master. That seemed to confirm the solicitor’s claim that he had administered the estate during the interim months since Albran Fiori’s passing. Naeth said as much to Reijir when they had a moment alone together.

“Yes, they readily submit to his authority. But it isn’t the deference toward a temporary steward that I see here,” Reijir commented. “He said he frequently visited Fiori Hall. I warrant he didn’t just visit. I think he actually resided here for a considerable period of time. He was probably at his bedside when your grandsire passed away.”

Naeth nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, that would explain the servants’ manner toward him. Perhaps he was their acting master when
Opa
was ailing or right after he died.”

Reijir smiled. “So, you’ve accepted him as your grandsire.”

“Well, he
was
,” Naeth said with a shrug. “I might as well get used to addressing him thusly.”

Right after showing them their quarters in the wing reserved for guests, Syvan offered to guide them around the rest of the manse.

“Is the house to your liking?” he asked when they entered the family wing.

“It is impressive,” Naeth admitted.

The building bespoke old wealth and long heritage. This was a family whose

forebears went back to before the political upheavals of the Ferrenda Interregnum. The Fiori baronetcy was bestowed long before Diorn Essendri, the Ardan who beat back the invading Ferrendas and conquered their kingdom of Varadan, used the granting of titles and estates as a reward to his followers for their loyalty and as surety of their continued support.

“This was Morel’s apartment,” Syvan said as he opened the door to a large suite at one of end of the family wing. “Uncle Albran didn’t allow a single thing to be changed after he left.”

Naeth looked at Reijir a little nervously. At a slight nod from the Herun, he entered his sire’s boyhood quarters.

He walked around the sitting room in a bit of a daze, lightly touching the heavy furnishings and staring at the paintings by masters of a long bygone era. He peered into the bathing room with its ornate freestanding bathing tub, noting how the absence of modern plumbing dated the room. Interestingly, the bedchamber was much cozier than the outer room, its furniture chosen for comfort rather than worth or style.

Naeth ran his fingers along the carvings on the redwood footboard of the wide bed and fingered the gauzy curtains that, when drawn, provided an airy cocoon for whoever slept within. Moving to the side of the bed, he examined the emblem embroidered in silver grey thread on the wine-hued counterpane. He caught his breath at its familiarity.

Pulling out the pendant that now always hung from his neck, he compared the two and realized the symbols were the same. A lump lodged in his throat, and he turned away from the bed, his eyes swiftly blurring.

Reijir caught him in a soothing embrace, and he clung to his lover, fighting back his tears, his shoulders heaving with the effort.

“I miss them,” he whispered brokenly. “I miss them so much.”

“Of course you do,” Reijir murmured. “They loved you well.”

Naeth drew in a shaky breath. He glanced at his uncle. Syvan appeared

uncomfortable, and when Naeth looked at him, he averted his face. Naeth wondered if showing one’s emotions had been frowned on in his grandsire’s home. Syvan was probably embarrassed at witnessing Naeth’s near breakdown.

“Did
Adda
ever come here?” he softly asked.

Syvan stiffened then reluctantly met his gaze. “Yes, several times before Uncle Albran realized he was more than Morel’s lover of the moment. They, uh, shared this room quite frequently in those days.”

Naeth’s eyes quickly brightened. “Maybe I’ll feel his presence here, too,” he hopefully said.

“Well…” Syvan pursed his lips then pointed to the couch before the bedroom hearth.

A fringed amber-hued blanket was casually draped over the back of the long seat. “That was his. They would sit together before the fire, and Jiron liked to wrap the blanket around them both.”

Naeth ignored the slight distaste in Syvan’s voice. The Deir was obviously of a conservative, undemonstrative bent.

“They used to do that in Losshen, too!” he exclaimed in excitement.

He hurried to the couch and picked up the blanket. Forcing back a fresh set of tears, he almost reverently buried his face in it. At length he sighed and held the blanket to his breast. His shoulders shook, and he turned a tear-streaked face to Reijir.

Swearing under his breath, Reijir went to him and swept him into a tight embrace.

“Enough,” he said. “You can come back here later.”

Unable to speak, Naeth nodded and allowed Reijir to usher him out of the apartment.

The issue of his inheritance arose once more that evening after dinner. Syvan ordered the servants to bring them wine in the study where he showed Naeth the documents representing his grandsire’s extensive holdings. Naeth could not quite believe just how well off he could be if he chose to accept his inheritance.

“The local magistrate only awaits your official claim to the estate,” Syvan explained

as Naeth perused the various deeds and legal papers. “Once he affirms the legitimacy of your claim, which is just a mere formality, you can at once take up residence in this house and exercise your rights and privileges as
serl
. As I mentioned before, you will be provided with an ample allowance until you reach your majority whereupon you will receive the monies due you in full.”