Cross Purposes (Chronicles of Ylandre, Book 5) (28 page)

He opened his eyes and gazed sadly at Eiren. “In the end, I lost him just the same. Because I tried so hard to keep him.” Keosqe sighed disconsolately. “If only he told me then that he did care for me. That he did love me.”

“You believe you wouldn’t have been so possessive,” Eiren finished the thought for him. “But I think you would have missed the signs of his attempts at deceit nonetheless. You never even imagined him capable of perfidy of any sort.”

“And so I now pay the price for my idiocy,” Keosqe bitterly muttered.

“It isn’t idiocy to be in love,” Eiren admonished. “Unless you’re saying I’m an idiot along with Rohyr, Uncle Yovan, and Dylen and all the others.”

“Nay, of course not,” Keosqe replied with a huff of frustration. “I was referring to myself and myself only.”

Eiren regarded him sympathetically. “You have every right to be angry and disappointed that he deceived you. Certainly, just the mere thought that he almost cuckolded you is infuriating. But the lad stopped because he felt it was wrong to share himself with anyone but you. Surely his transgression is not so egregious that you would completely break all ties with him.” He hesitated, and then added, “I’ll have you know, he’s so unrelentingly remorseful for what he did, so ashamed and full of regret, he enshrouds himself with doom and gloom throughout each day.”

Keosqe stared at him. “Until now?”

“Yes. What? Did you think him recovered from your rejection already?” Eiren said a little reprovingly.

“I wasn’t sure,” Keosqe admitted. “Last I saw him, he looked quite well. That is, he was with friends and he seemed cheerful enough around them.”

“Well, of course he kept up a cheerful front with them! He still has his pride after all.”

After a brief silence, Keosqe said, “I suppose you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right. I’ve dealt with this situation and learned my lesson in the hardest way possible.” Sadness darkened Eiren’s eyes and he took a moment to collect himself. At length, he pursed his lips and clapped a hand on Keosqe’s shoulder in comradely fashion. “Rather than leave matters hanging, I suggest you meet with Tristen again. Talk with him—”

“We already did.”

“While on neutral grounds and with your emotions in check, which wasn’t the case at all that evening,” Eiren swept on as if Keosqe had not interrupted. “You were resentful of what he’d done and he was trying to keep from falling apart as he confessed. And from what you told me, he wasn’t very successful, was he? Neither of you were thinking clearly … or feeling clearly for that matter.”

“Feeling clearly?”

“You remain so conflicted about him, you virtually radiate it. And why that expression? Did you really think we all haven’t been wondering and worrying about you these past many weeks? As if
I
haven’t given the others enough to fret about already. Reijir and Gilmael and even Rohyr have all asked me if I know the extent of your troubles. Your feelings are all a-jumble, Kes. Admit it, you don’t know whether you want to throttle Tristen for his idiocy or fuck him senseless.”

“Ren!”

“Oh, don’t go all prissy on me. Any Essendri worth his salt shouldn’t be bothered by earthy language.”

“There are always exceptions.”

“Oh,
him
. Uncle Imcael is such a prude, isn’t he? Almost an anomaly in the family if you think about it. Ever wonder if he was born on the wrong side of the sheets?”

Keosqe rolled his eyes. “Thank Veres he’s taken himself back to Qimaras for good. Else there’d be havoc to pay were word of what you said to get back to him.”

“As if I’d let him dictate my manners,” Eiren scornfully replied. “But, really, you need to talk with Tristen again, but without the distractions of anger or fear and certainly not in a setting that tempts you to bed him instead. Your office would be a suitable place provided you’ve never trysted with him there.”

“I haven’t nor will I ever. Really, Ren, would you use either of your offices for trysting?”

Eiren shrugged. “Only because people are in and out of them all day long and oft without warning. Otherwise…”

“
Heyas
! I never realized how corrupted you’ve become. But you were saying…?” Keosqe hastily said when Eiren glared at him.

“Tell him what you told me,” Eiren urged. “Give him a chance to fully realize just how much his silence affected your manner toward him. Just talk your hearts out. Who knows, you might discover you can trust him again.”

“And then what?” Keosqe murmured.

“You might choose to reconcile or just be friends, maybe start from scratch—whatever feels right.” Eiren patted Keosqe’s hand. “It will be well worth the effort, I promise you.”

“I pray you’re right. My thanks, cousin. I hope I didn’t bother you overmuch.” Keosqe blew his breath out. “I just didn’t know who to turn to who’d understand my problem as well as you.”

“Not to mention give you such sage counsel,” Eiren loftily added.

Keosqe smiled. “Dear Ren, whatever would we lesser mortals do without you?”

“Be all lost and befuddled, no doubt,” Eiren shot back with a lopsided grin. “Now do as I prescribe and do it soonest. And don’t forget to get back to me with all the juicy details afterward.”

Chapter 18

Encounter

A week following his talk with Eiren, Keosqe met with Gilmael and Jareth over tea one afternoon at Jareth’s favorite tea-room, an establishment just two corners down the road from his city residence. It was also frequented by university folk for the campus was only a few blocks away. As it was still early, the place was relatively quiet and the three quickly settled themselves in one corner.

Gilmael looked about with some distaste. It was not that he disliked tea; indeed he favored the strong, almost bitter brews of Arvalde. But he was not fond of the places that served the beverage and the dishes that went with it.

“They never make it to suit my taste,” he was wont to say.

The savory tartlets, sweet cakes, and a new concoction of thin slices of meat and greens in a bun that was all the rage were met with disdain as well. Gilmael liked his food to come in generous portions with the appropriate side dishes and well-marinated or adequately bathed in sauces.

“So why did you want to meet here?” he asked Keosqe a little sourly. “You do realize the Citadel is far more secure. Small chance of folk eavesdropping on us and even less intruding on our discussion.”

“True,” Keosqe said with an appeasing smile. “But I wanted a change of … atmosphere. I’m tired of meeting at the Citadel. If I don’t see the insides of one of its conference chambers for the rest of the year, it will still be too soon.”

Gilmael stared at him, and then glanced at Jareth. The ambassador replied with a small shake of his dark head. Gilmael pursed his lips and nodded.

“I suppose it can get tiresome,” he conceded much to Keosqe’s relief.

They asked him no further questions and for that he was grateful. Perhaps they suspected those frequent meetings at the royal keep had adversely affected his affair with Tristen, but they were sensitive enough not to pursue the issue.

Once their tea was served and the highly gifted Jareth had cordoned their corner off with a mind barrier that would hamper any attempt to listen in on them, they proceeded to discuss the crisis in Tenerith.

“Have you found that last spy, Kes?” Jareth asked after they’d analyzed the reports sent in by Keosqe’s agents.

“Unfortunately, nay. We haven’t so much as an idea of his appearance or what he’s disguised himself as. For all we know, he could be hiding right under our noses.”

“In plain sight,” Gilmael commented.

“Exactly.” Keosqe huffed in disgust. “The scoundrel makes my people look like fools. He makes
me
feel like a fool.”

“That only means he’s exceptionally good at what he does,” Gilmael said soothingly. “It’s no reflection on your capabilities. Veres knows you’ve flushed out more than anyone’s fair share of blackguards since you took over Internal Affairs.”

Keosqe shook his head. “None of that will matter if I don’t apprehend this cur and he manages to get back to Jubal with information ruinous to our plans.”

There was a brief pause as they stewed over Keosqe’s dilemma. At length, Jareth tapped Gilmael’s shoulder, a small smile curving his mouth.

“This should intrigue you, Gil. Prince Anri recently broached the idea of establishing peace between our lands to the Ballarian consul.”

“Have they now?” Gimael narrowed his eyes. “I wonder… Is he weary of the hostilities or is he merely trying to allay our suspicions of Teraz’s real intentions?”

“Ballar thinks Anri is sincere.”

That was definitely promising. The Ballar Dominion lay to the north and had managed to stay neutral throughout the uneasy truces and open conflicts between Ylandre and Teraz. The Ballarians had diplomatic relations with Teraz and it was through their envoys that the two nations maintained communications with each other especially in times of hostilities. Because the Ballarians had resisted siding with one country or the other on any issue and often acted as a bridge between Ylandre and Teraz, their envoys were allowed considerable access to either realm’s political plans.

“If Teraz does open diplomatic relations with us, the ambassador we send to them will need to tread a very fine line,” Keosqe remarked.

“Send Riodan’s sire then,” Jareth suggested.

Gilmael looked skeptical. “Theron Leyhar? But I hear he tends to be rather stiff-necked.”

“Here at home, yes, he can be,” Jareth agreed. “But when on assignment, he’s the quintessential diplomat. Furthermore, he’s a career envoy with a sterling reputation for honesty and uprightness. He won’t be hampered by people’s suspicions of him or his motives. And if he does encounter difficulties he can’t manage, I’ll follow and assist him.”

They continued their discussion for another half-hour, dissecting the various reports more thoroughly and speculating on the identity of Keosqe’s elusive quarry. It was worrisome to have a Ferrenda spy still at large while the situation in the north continued to escalate.

As their meeting drew to a close, a group of university students entered. Keosqe caught his breath when he saw Tristen in their ranks and Mirdan coming up behind him. Tristen spotted him almost at the same time. He spoke to his companions before detaching himself from them to make his way to Keosqe’s table.

Gilmael and Jareth glanced at each other and then rose to their feet and took their leave of Keosqe. To his relief, they kindly greeted Tristen as they passed him on their way out.

Despite his reticence regarding his estrangement from the youth, he had not been able to fully hide the reason for it from the rest of his cousins. And while they had not forced him to give details, they did know Tristen had been the transgressor. Furthermore, it was second nature to the Essendris to rally around kinsfolk in distress and close ranks against those who had caused said distress.

Their kindness toward Tristen meant Keosqe had managed to convey his continuing regard for the youth, which in turn suggested the possibility of reconciliation. Wherefore to ostracize Tristen now if he wound up returning to the fold at a later time?

Tristen smiled uncertainly when he came to the table. Whereupon, Keosqe gestured to him to take a seat, saying, “We were done. You didn’t interrupt us.”

As Tristen sat down, Keosqe looked across the room to where the youth’s group had seated themselves at a large table. He noticed Mirdan was watching them intently. He allowed a frown of distaste to darken his features before turning his attention back to Tristen.

“He joined us on the way here,” Tristen said. “I didn’t invite him to come with us. Indeed, I don’t know why he did when he hardly knows the others. We’re heading for the Public Hospital afterward.”

Keosqe had to smile at the quick explanation. “Your fellow apprentices?”

“Yes, though only I was fortunate enough to wangle a place with Master Sarvan. Your doing of course.”

“Nonsense. I merely introduced you. Eiren saw your potential and chose to take you on because of your own merits.” Keosqe gestured in the direction of Tristen’s party. “So, are you very close to them?”

Tristen shrugged. “Close enough to call them friends. I have been out with some of them, just as you suggested.” He noticed the swift glance Keosqe threw in Mirdan’s direction. “Nay, he isn’t courting me. But even if he was, I don’t want him. Or anyone else.” He bit his lip. “You’ve set such a high standard that he can’t compete with you. No one can. So I’m alone. And it appears I’m going to be alone for the foreseeable future.”

Keosqe looked away, acutely aware of Tristen’s open honesty. The youth was not hiding anything from him. His face was an open book. He was risking rejection and the accompanying pain. Keosqe had to hand it to him—he was brave. Incredibly brave. But was that enough for him to trust Tristen again?

He winced inwardly as thoughts of those wrenching nights came back to him. Amazing how the mere memory of Tristen’s deception could still singe him.

*

Though Keosqe’s face did not change, Tristen sensed the sudden tension between them. He knew then that Keosqe was remembering once more how he had deceived him.

He felt the lump in his throat swell. He’d been hoping Keosqe would forgive him enough that they might be friends at least. Just so he could be with him a little more often, talk to him, look into his eyes and hear his voice. Even crumbs would do.

Apparently that was not going to happen. He swallowed the lump and fought back the sting in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” He began to rise from the chair. “I’d better return to the others.”

Keosqe’s hand on his made him pause and he looked into the noble’s violet eyes. “I’m glad you’re not with him,” Keosqe softly said. “Or anyone else.”

Tristen caught his breath. It wasn’t forgiveness yet. Certainly not an invitation for them to start anew. But it was an admission of feeling, of lingering desire and—dared he hope?—relief that there was no cause for jealousy and, saints, he knew it was so much more than he deserved.