Cross Purposes (Chronicles of Ylandre, Book 5) (17 page)

“Nay, here. Possibly at the Rikara Academy and eventually at the University.”

Keosqe pursed his lips. “I take it you’ll be seeing him again?” he said with a touch of acerbity.

Tristen grinned. It was quite exhilarating to see Keosqe discomfited for a change. “I hope so,” he cheerfully answered. “He doesn’t seem particularly impressed by my circumstances. A first I must say and refreshing too. I think he’ll make a good friend.”

“Good friend? You’ll be keeping company with him?”

“I’d very much like to.”

Keosqe fell silent once more and stared out the carriage window, a brooding look on his face. His pleasure fading, Tristen nervously awaited the noble’s reaction.

What if he forbade him to make friends with Mirdan? Tristen knew he would resent it, but he also accepted he did not have it in him to outright defy Keosqe. Part of his reluctance to disobey the noble stemmed from gratitude for the latter’s care and generosity these many years. The other part was that he simply did not want to afflict him with more hurt. Even when Keosqe’s actions caused him annoyance or frustration, Tristen could not deny he nursed a goodly amount of affection for his lover.

At length, Keosqe looked back at Tristen and said, “You’re free to do as you wish. I just hope you don’t nurture this new relationship at the expense of ours.” He hesitated before adding, “I don’t pretend I’m the center of your world. I know I probably never will be. But I dearly wish you’ll come to care for me as much as I do you.”

Tristen stared at him, startled by the foreboding nature of his response. “I’m not befriending him in lieu of what we have,” he protested. “You’re very important to me, you know that.”

Keosqe gazed at him long and searchingly.

Tristen caught his breath when something brushed his mind. It was the faintest touch of another consciousness, but it was withdrawn before it did more than make itself felt. He realized Keosqe had given in momentarily to the temptation to see for himself what Tristen really thought of him and their affair. But he had not proceeded further than a cursory probe. In the end, he’d respected Tristen’s privacy.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that,” Keosqe said. “But trust me, I didn’t read your mind.”

Tristen leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Keosqe’s mouth, startling him in turn. He seldom initiated displays of affection or desire.

“I know you didn’t,” he murmured. “I know you won’t.”

He should have known what Keosqe would do, but he was still surprised enough to utter a soft cry when the noble hauled him onto his lap to straddle his thighs and lure him into a sensual duel of lips and tongues. As his mouth was all but devoured, Tristen did know he would not spend the night in his own bed. Indeed, he would not be getting much sleep either or a quiet early morning the following day.

It seemed he would be late for first shift tomorrow after all.

Chapter 10

Triangles

Tristen could not help the wide grin that lit his face as he and Mirdan exited the State University grounds. In all his years at school, rare had been the occasions when he’d made his way home by himself. Those times had been owing to Keosqe’s busy schedule or the unavailability of the Deilen carriage. But ever since making Mirdan’s acquaintance, Tristen had found the courage and possibly some rebelliousness of spirit to persuade his lover not to shelter him overmuch.

Keosqe had been far from pleased when Tristen first requested he not be fetched. And indeed he disliked the increasing number of afternoons and evenings Tristen now spent with his friends. In particular, he was not at all happy that Tristen passed a fair amount of time in Mirdan’s company.

Anymore than I’m happy when he’s so quick to respond to Veare’s every tale of woe
, he thought with some irritation.

It was thrilling Keosqe wanted him so deeply as to profess love for him and desire the union of their bodies as frequently as their respective schedules allowed. That much Tristen admitted and allowed himself to enjoy. But he still feared he was only a substitute for his brother and Keosqe’s continued affection and solicitude toward Veare hardly helped dispel Tristen’s insecurities and suspicions.

All it takes is for Veare to whine about something and he’ll set aside everything else to do what he can to help
, Tristen inwardly groused.
When will he learn to leave Veare to his own devices?

His brother would never outgrow his reliance on Keosqe at this rate. And that closeness would hinder Veare and his spouse from learning to depend on each other instead or even fall in love. His brother could proclaim he loved his mate to the ends of the world, but as far as Tristen was concerned, it was all lip service. An attempt to convince everyone including Veare himself that his marriage was one of more than mutual convenience.

If Veare really cared for Narion, he would not keep writing Keosqe about every little thing that troubled him and certainly not anything that would put his spouse or marriage in a bad light! Yet Veare did and thus Keosqe knew so much more about the state of Veare’s affairs than Tristen deemed seemly. Indeed, he even knew much more than Tristen and that was another annoyance.

He started when Mirdan rapped his forehead with a knuckle. Rubbing the spot with his fingers, he half glared at his friend.

“What was that for?”

Mirdan snorted. “Your mind was leagues away from here. You just crossed the street without looking out for vehicles. Thank Veres there weren’t any else I’d be saying, ‘Physician, treat yourself!’ That is, assuming you were alive enough to do so.”

“Oh.” Tristen shook his head. “I’m sorry, I was just thinking.”

“About your Lord Keosqe.”

“He isn’t
my
Lord Keosqe.”

Mirdan hooted. “Don’t try to pull the wool over my eyes! You’ve revealed yourselves lovers already so pretending otherwise won’t do.”

Tristen flushed. “We aren’t lovers!” he retorted.

“Of course not. You just couple every other day.”

“Mir!”

“Very well, bedmates then. Or would you rather be called a bed-treat?”

“Oh, stuff it.” Tristen rolled his eyes. “Whatever possessed me to tell you about our arrangement?”

Mirdan chuckled. “You wanted to tell someone, admit it. I just happened to ask the question at the right time.”

“You mean you wore me down until I answered you. Out of sheer exhaustion!”

“But you felt better afterward, didn’t you? Come now, admit it. There’s naught worse than harboring a delicious secret and not being able to tell anyone.”

“Well…” Tristen admitted he
had
felt a little lighter after confessing his liaison to Mirdan. And his friend’s cheerful acceptance of it quelled some of his unease at having revealed the relationship. “Remember your promise. Keep it to yourself.”

“To my last breath.”

They walked a little bit in companionable silence.

“This is the fourth day running he hasn’t passed by for you,” Mirdan remarked at length. “Did you tell him not to?”

Tristen shook his head. “Even if I did, he wouldn’t listen. Nay, he’s at the Citadel again. Having all sorts of meetings with Veres knows who.” He scowled. “It’s rather annoying actually. He comes and goes without warning nowadays. But give him a free evening and it’s ‘To bed, Tristen.’ But of course, he means
his
bed!”

“You ought to be flattered,” Mirdan told him. “You do realize you’re tangling legs with one of the handsomest Deira in the land.”

“What a way to put it.” Tristen cupped a heated cheek with his hand. “He may be handsome, but I wish he wouldn’t be so demanding. Or insatiable. And then he has the temerity to question me about what I’m about, yet he’s as tight-lipped as a bloodsucking leatherwing when it comes to his affairs.”

“I wonder why. Do you think there’s trouble brewing in the land?”

“The things he says when he does let something slip, you’d think there’s
always
trouble brewing in the land.”

“Such as?”

“Well, take Tenerith for instance.”

“What about Tenerith?”

“The Ferrendas have been trying to regain the province for several centuries now, right? I always thought their attempts were just isolated skirmishes in the north and hence nothing to worry about. But apparently, outright battles have taken place to put down armed rebellion. And they take place to this day, can you believe it?”

“Really? But I’ve heard the Ardan has done some fighting in Tenerith since he came to the throne. Would he risk himself in a serious battle?”

“Who knows? Keosqe says Rohyr is no armchair general who leaves such serious matters to his underlings.”

“How admirable. Well, so long as he doesn’t get himself killed in the process.”

“I highly doubt it. He’s a seasoned warrior. Almost all the Essendris are. And he’s not stupid to head north unprepared or without adequate support.”

“I suppose not. Hmm, so Lord Keosqe is at the Citadel most days, eh? Mark my words, there’s something amiss somewhere. You really ought to find out what it is.”

“Huh? Why should I do that?”

“So you’ll know if it’s something that might affect all of us. Then we’ll know how to deal with whatever the trouble is when it comes upon us. You can start by asking if Tenerith is giving us trouble again,” Mirdan suggested. “Mayhap there has been fighting going on that we know nothing about. Oh, and maybe you can also check if there’s espionage afoot.”

Tristen blinked. “Espionage?”

“As in spies and covert missions and the sort.” Mirdan wagged his eyebrows at him. “What if Lord Keosqe has been consorting with enemy agents?”

The sudden shift to humor had Tristen gaping in confusion. “Are you daft?”

“What’s so daft about my suggestion?”

“Everything! Why in Aisen would Keosqe consort with enemy agents?”

“Because he has a taste for beauteous spies?”

“He does not! And even if he did, not all spies are comely. Some aren’t even remotely appealing. Which is neither here nor there in the first place.”

“All right, it is far-fetched. But he must be keeping abreast of the goings-on up north somehow. Ever consider that he might travel there to fight?”

“Fight?” Tristen stared at him. “You think it might come to that?”

“I don’t know enough to form an opinion, lackwit. But it would be a possibility, wouldn’t it? He’s a trained warrior after all and head of Internal Affairs.”

They came to their favorite tea-room and entered the establishment. A group of students seated in one corner looked up as they walked in. One of them hailed Tristen and motioned for him to come over.

“Think about it,” Mirdan said as they sauntered to the group. “To be warned is forearmed they say. Best you know what your lover is up to rather than be treated to a rude surprise.”

* * * *

Arriving home one evening, Tristen headed straight for his room and washed off the grime and inevitable gore of half a day spent at the University infirmary. He was practicing his skills more than sitting down to lectures at this stage in his training and that meant regular exposure to actual patients and all their pains and ills. He grimaced as he washed bits of clotted blood out of his hair.

A fellow student accidentally cut the wrong vessel during a routine bloodletting. Thank Veres the patient had not succumbed to blood loss before they’d managed to seal the resulting spurting artery. Tristen had scrubbed off the garish lacework of dried blood on his face but not out of his hair. A good thing the folk at the tavern where he and his friends had dined had not shied from him in horror after taking one whiff of the telltale metallic scent that clung to him. Then again, the tavern was often frequented by medical students and its clientele was probably inured to the sights and smells that inevitably accompanied them.

Once he was satisfied that he no longer reeked, Tristen went to Keosqe’s study. He might not have been a regular dinner companion nowadays but he made up for his absences as best as he could by joining his lover for after dinner drinks, talk and, more oft than not, sex. This last was especially true when their schedules conflicted and they spent more days and nights apart than together.

He entered the study and saw Keosqe seated on the couch, two glasses and a decanter of brandy on the low table before him. One glass was filled; the empty one was obviously meant for Tristen.

Keosqe was reading a letter but he glanced up when Tristen stepped into the room. He smiled and motioned to Tristen to join him.

Tristen walked over and made to sit on one of the flanking armchairs. But without looking up Keosqe took him by the arm and drew him down beside him on the couch instead. Tristen shook his head and peeked at the top sheet of the multi-paged letter. The handwriting was one he knew well.

“That’s a very long letter,” he remarked. “What does my brother have to say that would take up four pages?”

“Five,” Keosqe absently replied. He sighed and went on to read the next page. “Mostly complaints.”

Tristen poured himself some brandy. “Ah, nothing new there.”

“Indeed.”

When he got to the bottom of the page, Keosqe frowned and suddenly sat up straight. “Why in Aisen did he do that?” he softly exclaimed.

“Who did what?” Tristen asked.

Keosqe did not answer at once but hurriedly read the next and last page. “I see,” he murmured. “Mayhap it’s not so surprising after all.”

It seemed something dire had occurred. “What has happened now?”

“Domestic trouble,” Keosqe said as he set the letter on the table. “Apparently they argued and Narion was so angry he left their home and is now staying with his family.”

“That must have been quite an argument.” Tristen scowled. “And why is it he told you but not me? You may be his closest friend, but I’m his brother. His only one.”

“I don’t know why he didn’t inform you,” Keosqe said. “And it is indeed unseemly of him to keep this from you when he had no qualms about sharing his troubles with me. But perhaps he doesn’t wish to distract you from your studies.”

Tristen snorted. “More likely he doesn’t want to give my misgivings about his marriage any credence. And don’t try to deny it to defend him, Kes-
tyar
. You know how resistant he is to criticism of any sort.”