By Chance Met (27 page)
Nothing and no one, he feared.
He loved Reijir with all that he was, but while Reijir was kind and affectionate and obviously enjoyed bedding him, Naeth could not fool himself into thinking the Herun returned his love. He could still hope, but that hope had to be tempered with practicality if he wished to avoid a too grievous battering of his heart.
Taking a deep breath, Naeth said, “By the way, I’ve made up my mind about my inheritance. I think it’s best I accept it.”
Reijir straightened and turned around to look at him, the beginnings of a smile on his lips. But Naeth did not wait for him to speak.
“I understand now why everyone thought me mad not to want it,” he hurried on. “I mean it isn’t as if I’m so well off as to turn my nose up at such a windfall. Indeed, I’ll no longer have to depend on you. And I’ll even have something to pass on to my sons some day!”
Even before he finished speaking, Naeth knew he’d said something wrong. Reijir’s smile abruptly vanished while his eyes widened in what appeared to be shock. For several heartbeats he stared at Naeth, a frown creasing his brow.
“So, how long have you yearned for this—independence?” he finally asked.
Baffled by Reijir’s reaction, Naeth replied, “You know I’ve always been
uncomfortable about being completely reliant on you. But I’ve come to realize there are matters I have to consider other than my needs. For instance, if I have children some day, and I do want them, well, I should like to provide for them and if possible have something of my own to bequeath them. After all, it would be awkward for you to support children who aren’t your heirs, don’t you think? And in any case you won’t be always there to protect me. I’ll have to move on one day. So prudence dictates that I take this means to support myself and my future progeny and—”
He stopped his somewhat rambling reply when Reijir’s frown deepened into a scowl such as had never been directed at him before.
“Such commendable reasons,” Reijir tersely said.
Naeth caught his breath at the utterly glacial quality of Reijir’s reply, not to mention the sudden shuttering of his expression. It was like the lowering of a veil between them.
“Would you like me to lift my imprint on you as well?” Reijir coldly asked.
Naeth gaped. “What? Nay! Why would I—?” he stuttered.
“It wouldn’t be meet for a
serl
to be in thrall, would it? Especially a grandson of the late and oh so proper Albran Fiori.”
“What are you—?“
Reijir approached Naeth, his eyes glittering with barely suppressed ire. “Here, it will take but a few minutes,” he tightly said, raising a hand to Naeth’s forehead.
Naeth jerked back, shaking his head frantically. “Nay, I don’t want to be released!”
he cried out. He reached for Reijir’s upraised hand and caught it between his own. “Why are you doing this? What did I do to anger you so?”
Reijir glared at him. For the first time, Naeth knew what it was like to be a recipient of the Herun’s contempt. The feeling sickened him to the very pit of his stomach.
“What is wrong?” he begged. “Please, tell me.”
For a moment, his hopes rose when Reijir seemed to hesitate.
“If I were to request you to turn it down, would you?” he unexpectedly said.
Naeth stared at him. “Why would you—?” he sputtered in profound confusion.
“Didn’t you want me to—? I-I can’t believe you’d ask that of me!”
“I just did,” Reijir dryly said, his eyes narrowing. “And you gave me your answer,”
he mocked. He brusquely snatched back his hand.
He glanced down at the documents on his desk. A scornful smile curled his lips, and he picked up the papers and thrust them at Naeth.
“Here, you might as well earn your keep while you still live under my roof,” he snapped.
Panicked and utterly bewildered, Naeth said, “Reijir, please—”
“You will address me as
Your Grace
.”
Naeth’s stricken gasp had little effect on Reijir. He simply forced the documents into Naeth’s hands and said, “Now get out.”
For a moment, Naeth stared at him. He blinked his eyes to stem his tears. “Why?” he faintly asked.
“Get out!”
Naeth turned and fled, nearly stumbling in his haste to obey.
Blindly running down the corridor, he almost collided with Ruomi. The
sedyr
caught him by the arms and, noticing his distraught state, stared at him in alarm.
“What has happened?” he asked.
“He—he’s so angry at me, and I don’t know why,” Naeth blurted. “He won’t let me call him by name, and he told me to get out and that I have to earn my keep.”
“What? Why would he—?”
“I’ve lost him, Ruo!” Naeth piteously said. “He doesn’t want me any longer. Veres help me, he doesn’t want me!”
“That can’t be,” Ruomi protested, eyes widening in shock. “He dotes on you, Naeth.
More than he ever did even Keiran.”
“Not anymore,” Naeth mournfully said. He struggled to stem his tears, hiccupping as he did. “I love him so,” he raggedly whispered. “I’d hoped so hard that he would love me back even a little bit. But he doesn’t. He never will. It was a foolish hope from the start,
and now it’s over. What will I do now, Ruo? Ah, what will I do?”
He finally dissolved into tears as the enormity of his loss struck him anew, laying waste to his deeply wounded heart.
Chapter Eighteen
If there was ever a time Naeth likened to a waking nightmare, it was the week following his falling-out with Reijir. What made it worse was his ignorance of what had triggered Reijir’s anger and what appeared to be disillusionment with him. But Reijir refused to speak of the incident. Not even Keiran could pry anything out of him.
Keiran perforce called a halt to his badgering when Reijir, in a burst of ire and impatience, hurled a glass of wine across the study to smash against the wall beside his shocked brother and tersely said, “Shut up, Kei!” Under those circumstances, even irrepressible Keiran knew it was time to retreat and regroup. Reijir did not often blow up, but when he did, it was best to give him ample time to calm down.
Unfortunately, that left Naeth in the dark as to what he had done to alienate his lover.
Former lover
, he dolefully amended as the days passed and Reijir neither spoke to him unless absolutely necessary nor sought his company whether convivial or sexual. It did not help when another blueblood made his way to the Arthanna house to press his suit, this time presenting himself as a worthy mate to Ilmaren’s lord.
Lord Namare was the younger brother of the Herun of Ferth, a fief in the south of Ylandre, just below the lower midlands. Ferth was small in size but quite populous and very progressive. And it had become rather wealthy thanks to the fief’s many ore-rich mines. Namare did not rule Ferth, but as his brother’s chief advisor, he had a say in the running of the fief and his counsel was oft taken as well.
“I do wish there was a good reason to refuse Namare’s suit,” Keiran grudgingly said.
“But his offer is the best by far of all you’ve received.”
Reijir studied the golden depths of his glass. “Yes, an alliance by marriage with Ferth is desirable,” he replied. “Namare’s brother is an able ruler and canny with his resources. I won’t be surprised if Ferth displaces Anju as the richest of the small fiefs before too long.”
“And eventually an influential one if Namare wins your hand. You’ll be their bridge to court, Rei.”
“I know that. Just as they’ll be our foothold in the south. The properties Namare offered are very productive. They’ll make a worthy addition to our holdings nationwide.”
Keiran shifted in his seat, frowning slightly. “So you’re actually considering him?”
Reijir smiled at his brother with little mirth. “For you perhaps?”
That earned him a frightful glare. “Don’t even jest about it!” Keiran snapped. “You know my sentiments about the matter.” He took another sip of his brandy, his face screwed up in distaste. “I suppose he’s handsome enough to suit you,” he reluctantly conceded. “If you have a taste for bright orange hair and washed out blue eyes. He has a nice body, I’ll admit, though I won’t be surprised if he grows a belly. Did you see how much of the ale he drank? Ale, not wine! What did he think you were—a common tavern
keeper?”
“Now, Kei, that isn’t kind—” Reijir started to say. But he stopped in mid-sentence, his eyes suddenly riveted on the porch entrance. Keiran followed his gaze, and caught a glimpse of a slight figure before the would-be trespasser hastily stepped back out of sight.
“He’s been following you about,” Keiran murmured.
Reijir said nothing but kept his eyes on the entrance. Watchful eyes, Keiran noted, but also pained and uncertain. He wondered all over again what beset his brother so.
“I wish you would tell me what he did,” he said. “You haven’t been this upset since the day you broke with Darion.”
“I haven’t the heart to speak of it now,” Reijir answered. “Maybe later… When it doesn’t hurt so much.”
Keiran stared at him. “
Hurt?
Naeth hurt you? How?”
“Kei,
please
.”
With a frustrated huff, Keiran sat back in his chair and tossed back the rest of his brandy. He made a face as the liquid burned its way down his throat.
“Very well. But bear in mind later may be too late. He can’t wait indefinitely. Not without certitude of resolution of some kind. And you wouldn’t be so cruel as to demand it of him,” he added.
He caught his breath when Reijir raised haunted eyes to him.
“Nay, I won’t demand it of him,” Reijir whispered. “Not that it matters. No one ever waits anyway.” He suddenly stood up. “Least of all for me.”
Keiran quickly rose to his feet, eyes widening in further befuddlement.
“What do you mean?” he prodded. “Who didn’t wait for you? You’re not making sense.”
Reijir gave him a small, sad smile. “Goodnight, Kei,” he murmured and turned to walk back into house, leaving his brother to stare after him.
After a minute or so, Naeth stepped out onto the porch, pale and obviously
distressed. He came to Keiran, his eyes beseeching.
Keiran let out a weary breath. “I’m sorry, kitten,” he said. “He turned as closed as a barnacle as soon as I broached your quarrel.”
Naeth swallowed painfully. “I heard part of your talk. He’s considering that last offer, isn’t he?”
“He considers every offer,” Keiran pointed out.
“But not seriously. Not like this one.”
Keiran shrugged. “It is a good offer,” he admitted. “As good as any proffered by those seeking a worthwhile alliance.” He smiled lopsidedly at Naeth. “That sounds so awful, doesn’t it, likening a marriage contract to a political treaty.”
“It’s your lot in life,” Naeth dully said.
“Not all. Some of us do wed as our hearts bid us.”
“But not His Grace.”
“His Grace? Since when have you become so formal again?”
Naeth bit his lip. “Since he forbade me to address him by name,” he whispered.
Keiran’s eyes widened. “Saints! As bad as that?” He growled with impatience. “This can’t go on. I’m going to get to the bottom of this if I have to suffer a cabinet’s worth of glassware being thrown at me!”
Naeth managed a quivery smile. “Thank you, Kei-
dyhar
.” He sniffled of a sudden,
and his eyes turned teary. “It’s been a long day. I’d best turn in as well. Good night.”
“Good night, kitten.”
Keiran watched the youth walk away, his tread heavy and listless. He put a hand to his forehead and rubbed it irritatedly.
Tomorrow
, he thought.
They would be joining the others in the Citadel for the family’s weekly archery bout.
If he could not get Reijir to open up, perhaps one of their cousins would. Dylen was particularly skilled in ferreting information out of people whether they realized it or not.
Nay, Dylen was on extended holiday with Riodan in Vireshe, Keiran remembered, following Riodan’s birthing of their first child. Rohyr then, he decided.
Their king-cousin could be implacably persuasive. If Reijir would not speak of it to Keiran, perhaps he would agree to let Rohyr into his mind for a private conversation.
Keiran grimly smiled.
“Enter.”
He opened the door and stepped into the room.
Reijir was at his desk. He stood up as Naeth approached, picking up a lone
document. He handed it across the desk to Naeth.
Naeth perused it quickly. He blinked in surprise then looked up at Reijir.
“This is the deed to the west district house,” he said.
Reijir nodded. “I’ve signed it over to you.”
“To me?” Naeth stared at him in confusion. “Why?”
“Consider that a congratulatory gift in advance of your assumption of your title,”
Reijir quietly said.
Naeth thought he would choke on the knot that suddenly formed in his throat. “But didn’t you—? You said I would still be welcome to stay here, even if I claimed my inheritance,” he desperately said.
Reijir shook his head. “I’ve given thought to this, and I realize how reckless I’ve been with regard to your good name. It’s very rare for well-born Deira to enter into liaisons for gain save for those in extremely dire straits. We bluebloods usually take our concubines from amongst commoners, preferably untitled ones. It’s less ruinous.”
He held up a hand to forestall Naeth’s attempt to reply. “You’re neither
impoverished nor untitled, Naeth, and you bear an old and respectable name. Openly continuing as my leman will only sully your name, leave you vulnerable to discourtesy, and hurt your prospects.” Reijir sighed and added, “Namare said as much when he visited. It’s no longer a secret in Rikara that you’ve been warming my bed. Imagine the talk when they learn you’re a baronet in your own right with a large estate at your disposal. Best you remove yourself to a separate house. It should be enough to stop gossip about our relationship from spreading further.”