Cross Purposes (Chronicles of Ylandre, Book 5) (22 page)

Tristen had not been able to summon the wherewithal to object. How could he when he’d been lost in the passion and rapture the joining of their bodies always conjured? Or when he was utterly undone by the sweet declaration Keosqe professed to him mind to mind.

“
I love you, Tris. Deity’s blood, but I love you so.
”

Chapter 13

Dissidence

“Hurrying home? What are you? His ward?”

Tristen shook his head in some frustration. No matter how often he explained to Mirdan that too much tardiness in the space of a week was not prudent, his friend appeared unable to accept that. Or refused to.

“Look, Mir, this would be the third time in a row this week that I’ll be late getting home,” he patiently repeated. “I don’t want Keosqe to start suspecting me of doing things behind his back.”

Mirdan snorted. “You
are
doing things behind his back.”

Tristen flushed faintly. He did not enjoy the feeling of guilt derived from deceiving his lover. Especially after having done his utmost to assure Keosqe there was naught to worry about. That his utmost involved engaging in the ultimate act of sexual union made it harder on his conscience. What did it say about him that he was willing to barter his body for more freedom from Keosqe’s sheltering? Yet he could not give up these moments when he was at liberty to do as he wished without someone questioning him or imposing constraints on his time or activities.

“That’s not the point! I just don’t want him to get suspicious. When he gets it into his head that I’m hiding something, he’ll start badgering me and likely even have me followed!”

“Controlling, isn’t he?” Mirdan said with a smirk.

“Nay, that’s too extreme a description.” Tristen frowned. “I really shouldn’t speak that way about him,” he reluctantly admitted. “He’s just afraid to be burned again.”

“So you told me. I confess I can’t imagine anyone turning Lord Keosqe away. Or not returning his interest.”

“You haven’t met my brother. Had Keosqe not been heir to a fiefdom and was simply rich and prosperous, I think Veare might have decided to fall in love with him.”

Mirdan laughed. “Decided? He actually thinks people can decide how to feel?”

Tristen shrugged. “Truth be told, I don’t know if Veare is capable of deep feelings. He can be kind and affectionate and even responsible, but only so long as he isn’t inconvenienced overmuch.” He sighed. “It’s a wonder Keosqe loves him.”

“Loves? I thought you said he no longer does.”

“Well…” Tristen pursed his lips. “He says it’s me he loves now.” He glanced at Mirdan and saw he was smirking. “What’s so amusing?”

“You don’t believe him, do you?” Mirdan said. “Not completely.”

“I do too.”

“Oh, come now. You’re jealous that they were ever close to begin with. That means you’re besotted with him.”

Tristen bristled, his chaotic feelings conspiring to trigger his habitual reaction to the suggestion that he had lost his heart. “I most certainly am not.
Heyas
! All I feel is gratitude. And mayhap some … well, desire. He
is
very handsome.”

“Oh, that he is,” Mirdan all but purred.

“But to say I love him…” Tristen shook his head. “Why, I don’t even know what it is to love. I haven’t been in any other affair save with him so how could I possibly know what I feel?”

“But didn’t you tussle with a few lads back in the day?”

Tristen waved his hand dismissively. “A few gropes and kisses here and there can’t compare with—“

“Being pounded into the mattress.”

“Damn it, watch your tongue.”

“I only spoke the truth.” Mirdan grinned and slung an arm around Tristen’s shoulders. “In other words, you haven’t any other experiences to compare to what you do with him.”

Tristen looked at him uncertainly. “I suppose that’s one way of putting it.”

Mirdan stopped in his tracks, bringing them both to a halt. He stepped in front of Tristen and faced him.

“Then why not try it?”

“Try what?”

“Sleeping with someone else.”

Tristen gaped at him. “What? Are you mad?” he sputtered when he regained his speech.

Mirdan shook his head. “Not in the least. If you want some basis for comparison, you have to seek it out.” He moved closer to Tristen. “I can help you if you like.”

Tristen caught his breath when Mirdan suddenly cupped his chin. “Help? How?” he stammered.

“Like this.”

Mirdan pressed his lips to Tristen’s. For a moment, Tristen went still in his shock. An instant later, he jerked back, staring at Mirdan in confusion.

“What are you doing?” he gasped.

“Kissing you, silly dear,” Mirdan drawled. “Did you like it?”

“Did I like—?”

“Kissing someone other than Lord Keosqe!”

Tristen reeled at the question. He looked about nervously, wondering if anyone had seen. But none of the folk on the street were looking their way and he realized none really cared. To all appearances, they were just two youths sharing a kiss, a common enough occurrence on the streets of Rikara.

His cheeks felt warm of a sudden and he wondered if it was guilt or a response to Mirdan’s kiss. His heart was certainly galloping.

“It-it wasn’t bad at all,” he whispered.

Mirdan chuckled softly. “My offer stands,” he said. “Let’s have dinner together and afterward, we can go to my rooms. You won’t have to stay the night, but an hour or so will be more than enough time to, shall we say, pass the time.”

Tristen swallowed hard. Excitement and trepidation swirled around inside him and he was unable to come to a decision. It was tempting. Mirdan was very comely and Tristen did admire him very much. But it was also wrong. Keosqe not only loved him, but trusted him implicitly. Tristen bit his lip.

He won’t know
, he thought.
And it will be just this once, so…

He looked at Mirdan who appeared expectant. That rattled him further.

“Um, I don’t mind dinner, but I’m going home right after,” he said, stalling. “I have to think about this.”

Mirdan smiled. “That you’re even going to think about it is already a big step forward.” He turned left at the next corner. “Just you wait, I’ll convince you yet. Now by the by, what is Lord Keosqe up to these days that he virtually spent all of last week at the Citadel?”

“Just the days,” Tristen corrected. “He still came home to sleep.”

“Hardly to sleep. You should have seen your gait—was that four days ago? Anyone could tell you’d been fucked into the next century! He made up for all the cold nights beforehand, didn’t he?”

“Will you watch your mouth?” Tristen nigh exploded. “The whole city will know my business before too long!”

“Do you really think it’s still a secret in your part of town?” Mirdan wondered. “I imagine you bluebloods know each other’s business just as the gentry and low-borns keep up with all the gossip about their fellows. The only wonder is most everyone manages to keep what they know within the city walls. For which you ought to be grateful seeing as you don’t want Veare to know that his best friend regularly tups his little brother. I know, I know, my language leaves much to be desired.”

“Not your language,” Tristen grumbled. “Just your loudness of voice.”

“Duly noted. So … what’s keeping him so busy that he crams a whole sennight’s worth of coupling into one evening?”

Tristen screwed up his face but did not take his friend to task again. “I don’t know much—he’s so tight-lipped about these things. I think it does have to do with Tenerith. I once overheard him and Lord Ranael discussing the Ferrendas and old Varadan.”

“Lord Ranael? Do you mean Tribune Ranael Mesare of the royal army?”

“Yes.”

Mirdan whistled. “It must be serious for a high-ranked officer like him to be involved. What did they talk about?”

“Something about having to deal with the problem up north sooner than expected and maybe in bad weather too.”

“Bad weather? You mean this past winter? Or this coming spring?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t hear that part.”

“Well, either would fit. Military campaigns are seldom carried out during wintertime. It’s hard to fight when the ground is frozen over.”

“Or knee-deep in snow.”

“Exactly. But it’s preferable not to be out on the field in spring either. Can you imagine trying to battle it out on wet and muddy terrain?” Mirdan pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Hmm, obviously nothing has happened yet. But they must be anticipating something will very soon. I wonder if they’re about to mount a campaign up yonder.”

“You think the situation is that dire?”

“I don’t know for certes. But if they’ve been discussing it, that indicates something momentous is in the offing, don’t you think?”

Tristen nodded. “That’s sound reasoning. Veres, I hope it isn’t so serious that Keosqe must directly involve himself in any fighting.”

“Oh, he will if it’s serious enough for the army to be sent in. But let’s not worry our heads over that until it actually happens.”

“
If
it happens.”

“Right. Now what say we get us some fine ale and a hearty dinner? Maybe once you’re sated, you’ll be willing to warm the sheets with me afterward!”

“
Mir
!”

Mirdan guffawed and, evading Tristen’s swipe at him, hurried ahead. Flustered into scowling, Tristen followed his friend to a nearby tavern.

* * * *

Keosqe looked across the dining table at Tristen with concern. The youth had barely spoken during the meal and merely in response to his questions or comments. And Tristen had spared him only the swiftest of glances, none of which had expressed pleasure or interest in the desultory conversation or Keosqe’s company. He sighed.

Perhaps Tristen’s behavior was not all that surprising. Of late, Keosqe had spent very little time with his lover, oft coming home late and on two occasions returning to the townhouse before the break of dawn. Tristen had not been pleased. And he’d bristled when Keosqe questioned him about his own tardiness.

“What does it matter when you aren’t around yourself?” Tristen had pointed out. “Besides, my late hours are nowhere near as egregious as yours have been. Indeed, I’ve only stayed out one night whereas you seem to have taken up residence wherever it is you spend so much of your time.”

“I don’t do it by choice,” Keosqe replied. “Duty dictates my schedule.”

“That was not the case when I first came to live with you.”

“The weight of my workload is not constant. There are times I am free to do as I wish; at others, I am tied to my responsibilities.”

“Oh, I beg your pardon, I didn’t mean to add to your many burdens,” Tristen sarcastically retorted.

“Tris…” Keosqe pulled the youth back as the latter made to leave the study in a huff. “You aren’t a burden,” he softly said, drawing Tristen into an embrace. “You know you aren’t.”

Tristen clutched at Keosqe’s shirt, his pout dissolving into quivering lips. “I’d like to think so,” he muttered. “It’s just…” He looked down. “It’s lonely living here all by myself. At least, that’s how it feels when you’re gone so often.”

The admission of missing his company warmed Keosqe’s heart, as well as stoked his lust. He’d quelled Tristen’s weak protest with a hungry kiss, stripped him quickly and taken him right there on the couch.

Remembrance of that scarlet interlude brought a small smile to his lips. Surprisingly, Tristen had not complained as was his wont when Keosqe extended their lovemaking by much more than what Tristen deemed a decent number of couplings. It seemed Tristen was growing more indulgent of his concupiscence. It was a welcome development and one he hoped to encourage further.

He set down his goblet and said, “Meet me in the study?”

Since their first night together, the invitation to meet in the personal study adjoining the master suite had become an overture to sexual communion. Thus far, Tristen had not initiated their encounters. But he no longer hesitated to warm Keosqe’s bed either and Keosqe took that as tacit admission of affection and desire. The constancy of Tristen’s acquiescence further strengthened his conviction that the youth was well on his way to returning his love.

Therefore he was taken aback when Tristen said, “I’d rather not. Not tonight.”

Keosqe started, surprised Tristen would refused him after nearly a week spent apart. “May I ask why?” he cautiously ventured. He noted that Tristen looked quite flushed. “Are you unwell?”

Tristen did not answer at once. When he did, his voice sounded oddly high and a little breathy. “Yes. Yes, I feel under the weather.”

His hesitation before replying as well as his tone piqued Keosqe’s curiosity. But questioning the youth would likely rouse his irritation; perhaps lead to an argument that would only leave them both on edge. Tristen tended to take prying as a personal affront.

“Rest then,” he murmured, not troubling to hide his disappointment. Veres, but he missed the youth.

Reaching for the decanter to refill his wine glass, he almost missed the surreptitious glance Tristen cast him. He caught his breath.

The youth’s manner awakened his suspicions and triggered the instinct to probe for information. He managed to keep from invading Tristen’s thoughts though—his training alongside Rohyr and the other Essendris tempered the inborn urge to overuse and perhaps abuse his gifts. However he had no qualms about opening his senses to the undercurrents around him and the occasional unguarded thought.

Tristen stood up, his eyes lowered to avoid meeting Keosqe’s questioning gaze or so it seemed to the noble. “I’m sorry I can’t keep you company,” he murmured.

“I understand. Perhaps tomorrow?”

“I’ve been assigned the evening shift at the infirmary.”

“Well then, the night after.”

“Oh, about that…” Tristen appeared to tense before he looked at Keosqe. “I’m afraid I shall be home very late. There’s a group paper that needs to be submitted two days from now. I’ll be forced to miss tomorrow’s meeting as it is so I promised my group mates that I would join them the last night. I’m sorry.”

“I see.” Keosqe suppressed the desire to press Tristen for more details. He did not wish to treat his lover unfairly no matter how disturbed he felt. “Do you need a place for your meeting? You can invite them here.”