A Bond of Three (3 page)

The king nodded also. “The head of the bodyguard regiment has been keeping me informed of your progress. I wanted to speak of this. If the rumors prove true, you may have need of your skills one day.”

“You speak of Kandor, Father?” Tanish wasn’t deaf to what was being whispered out in the city. There was talk of Kandor rising up once more against Teruna.

“Yes, my son. And if such a day comes, you must be prepared to lead our troops into battle.” He paused, his gaze going once again to the city beyond the window, its white stone walls gleaming in the sun. “But I have a plan to deter our enemies.”

Tanish’s pulse raced, and he leaned closer. “Can you tell me?”

The king smiled. “I will tell only you and Malin.”

Tanish’s heart almost burst with pride. The day was proving to be one of firsts. His father had never seen fit to share such knowledge with anyone except Malin, his most trusted adviser. The man was older than the king’s sixty-four years, and Tanish had always looked up to him. Malin had shown Tanish much kindness throughout his childhood and adolescence.

“Our nearest neighbor is the kingdom of Vancor. If our two great kingdoms were to form an alliance, our strength would be such that no one would dare threaten either of us again. I have sent messengers to King Beron, inviting him and Queen Vasha on a state visit.”

A royal visit. Tanish sat up at that. Such a thing had never happened before. “When will you know if they have accepted your invitation, Father?”

“Within a day or two,” the king replied. “I shall declare a national holiday when they arrive. I want the people to show them a fantastic welcome. And we shall have a royal ball to celebrate their visit.” His eyes gleamed. “I hear King Beron has a daughter of your age, perhaps a little younger. Maybe she will accompany her parents.”

Tanish’s stomach roiled, and a sour taste filled his mouth. “Is that why you have invited him?”

His father frowned. “No, I simply mention the daughter because it just occurred to me.” His brow smoothed out. “But if it should happen that this does come to pass, it is worth considering.” He patted Tanish’s arm. “A consort of royal blood, my son. One who can provide you with an heir.” The king sagged against the window’s edge, as if all energy had fled him. “And now you must leave me, my son.”

Tanish rose slowly to his feet and bowed low before his father. He turned and walked out of the audience chamber, past the two guards standing outside the thick wooden door. They nodded to him in greeting, and he acknowledged them with a smile, but his thoughts were miles away.

He wants to marry me off—to a girl.
And this was despite his father’s claim that it didn’t matter if he chose a male or a female for his consort.

Tanish walked slowly, with a heavy heart. His path took him past the ornate metal door that led to the
Seruanal
, where all the palace
Seruani
dwelt. He found it difficult to breathe when the door opened and a figure emerged, draped in the
cashor
, the robe which all
Seruani
had to wear. The hood obscured the eyes of the wearer from Tanish’s sight, but he didn’t need to see any more to know it was Feyar beneath the robe. His senses were enough: his skin tingled as it always did when Feyar was near. Tanish had long become accustomed to his body’s reaction and no longer questioned the phenomenon.

Feyar didn’t acknowledge him. He walked by on the other side of the corridor, head bowed, hands clasped at his belly. Tanish watched him disappear through the doorway that led into the courtyard, his heart aching.

He could not have even raised a hand in greeting. That would have been frowned upon, and someone would have gotten word back to the king.

What kind of kingdom is this
, he thought,
where I cannot greet the man I love?
Worse than that—I can never tell a soul that I love him.

To do so would result in a public lashing for Feyar, followed by banishment from the kingdom. Tanish had no clue as to what his father would do to
him
. As far as he knew, no person of royal blood had ever broken that law.

Tanish would not do anything that would bring pain—and worse—to Feyar.

He went to his chamber, shut the door, and flung himself facedown onto his bed, rubbing his face in the silky fur that covered it.

He wanted it to be night, so he could be once more in Feyar’s strong arms.

Chapter 2

F
EYAR
LEFT
the palace by the rear gate, pulling his
cashor
around him. The guards let him pass without comment. They were used to his ritual by now. He tried to push aside the emotions that always surfaced when Tanish was near. To be so close to him and yet not be able to touch him, to even speak with him, was sheer torture. And to pass him with downcast eyes, when all he wanted to do was feast upon Tanish’s beauty, made his heart ache.

Feyar would have been happy to live all his days within the palace walls. It made for an easier life. Why would any
Seruan
wish to leave the safety of the
Seruanal
to brave the stares and reactions of the inhabitants of Teruna? Even now, Feyar could feel their unseen eyes upon him, their hostile gazes boring into his back as he crept along the cobbled streets on his daily pilgrimage. Only this one compulsion made him dare leave the palace’s protective surroundings.

He walked slowly, hands clasped at his belly, head bowed, his hood low over his eyes so no one should have to gaze at him. The streets dipped and curved as he made his way toward the older part of the city. The white stone of Teruna, a milky granite shot through with quartz, glowed, shutters thrown back to let in the welcoming sunlight and warmth. But inside, Feyar was cold as he came within sight of the house where he had spent the first seventeen years of his life.

He hid in the cool shadows, where he knew he would not be seen, and then leaned against the stone wall to observe. There was no sign of life, although he could hear movement within. Feyar was in no hurry. He knew he would not be missed for most of the morning. Those who dwelt in the
Seruanal
knew his habits.

The door opened, and Feyar’s breath hitched at the sight of his mother as she swept dust from the house, her long brown hair peppered with gray and tied back from her face. He swallowed. He could still hear her voice in his head from ten years ago, the last time they had spoken. The tears streaming down her soft cheeks were burned into his memory. With an effort he forced himself not to dwell on the past. Such thoughts only brought him pain.

“Mother, I have changed the sheets. What would you have me do next?”

Feyar’s chest swelled with pride as his sister, Merulan, emerged from the dim interior of the house. She had grown to be a beautiful young woman, tall and willowy, with clear green eyes and creamy skin. Feyar could still see in his head the precocious child who’d followed him everywhere, who’d laughed until she’d cried when he tickled her mercilessly, who’d clung to him when they’d dragged him from the house on his seventeenth birthday.

His mother straightened and then put her hand to the small of her back, grimacing. Feyar’s throat seized up. His mother was aging. He knew he was torturing himself, coming here every day to catch a glimpse of his former home, but he couldn’t help it. He could not cut the ties. He longed for those dreams of living there still, doing things around the house for his mother, watching his sister grow to womanhood. Dreams where he was surrounded by love.

For the next hour, Feyar remained hidden, trying to fix every detail into his brain so he could think back on them during the day. He heard his sister’s laughter from inside the house. He watched for any glimpse of his mother. There were the odd moments when she looked in his direction, and he shrank back farther into the shadows, lest she see him. She stared toward him, and Feyar’s heart pounded until she looked away. She
couldn’t
see him. He was not there. He was not a person.

He was
Seruan
.

The sun rose higher in the sky, and he knew it was time to leave. He bade a silent farewell to his family and waited until they were out of sight before venturing from his shadowy hiding place. He walked slowly, eyes downcast, his thoughts on the house in the quiet street. He was barely aware of the murmurs from those he passed; by now he’d grown accustomed to them. Now all he longed for was the night and the comfort of Tanish’s arms, where he could leave his pain behind him, for a while at least.

A scream rent the air. Feyar jerked his head up, and an icy hand squeezed his heart when the full force of what he was witnessing hit home. In front of him were the guards from the palace
Seruanal
, one of their number with his hands tight around a young woman’s upper arms. Another two guards held back what were obviously the girl’s parents.

The mother’s eyes were wild as she clutched at the air between her and her daughter. “Please, no,” she begged the guard who held her child. “There has been a mistake. She is not destined for the
Seruanal
.” The tremor in her voice almost brought Feyar to tears. Her husband tried to restrain his wife, his eyes full of pain, but he said nothing. Feyar saw the resignation etched across his face.

The guard who held their daughter stared back at them, his face like stone. “She has been chosen. You know the law.”

The girl’s eyes were wide, mouth open in silent protest, as she was pulled toward the guards’ horses, their harnesses held by a fourth guard, who helped her onto the back of a white stallion. Her captor climbed up behind her and held her tightly around the waist. She tried to twist around for one last look at her weeping mother, but he blocked her view.

“Better not,” he told her quietly. Feyar stared in surprise as he caught the guard’s words.

She pressed her lips together, and her chin trembled.

The guard brought his lips to her ear, but Feyar heard his low voice. “Make a clean break, girl. Forget them, as they must forget you.” He swallowed. “I know whereof I speak, child. My… my sister is
Seruan
.” Her eyes grew wider still, and he nodded. “So put them behind you. It is for the best.”

The girl’s eyes glistened with tears, but she nodded, lifting her chin high.

The guard gave her a proud look and then nodded to his fellow guards. They climbed onto their horses and followed him away from the scene.

Feyar lingered, unable to tear his gaze away from the weeping parents who watched their child’s departure, anguish written across their faces.

It was too much. Feeling drained of all energy, Feyar walked back to the palace with a heavy heart. He barely acknowledged the guards who admitted him through the gate in silence. Sunlight fell in solid, brilliant shafts where it pierced between the stone colonnades of the corridor leading to the
Seruanal
, warming the cool flags beneath his sandaled feet. He reached the heavy door and pushed it open. Once inside, he took a long, shuddering breath, eyes tightly closed as if to shut out the memory of what he had seen.

“Is all well, Feyar? Did you see them?”

He looked up and into the eyes of Tehar, a kindly woman in her late thirties. She regarded him with concern. He removed his
cashor
and smiled at her in reassurance. “They are well, thank you. Though my mother seems to age each time I see her.”

Tehar tilted her head. “Something has upset you, my friend.” She rose from her seat and crossed the stone floor to the barred window. The table next to it was laid out with fruit and jugs of water. She poured a glass and brought it to him. “Here. Drink this.”

He took it gratefully and sipped, relishing its refreshing coolness as it slid down his throat.

Tehar sat on the wooden chair, a wide strip of leather stretched between the arms that curved and molded to the body. She gestured to the empty one next to her. “Erasan leaves today,” she said, head bowed, sadness rolling off her with every breath.

Feyar’s heart went out to Tehar, who had been his friend for many years. She and Erasan had been close. They had both taken care of him when he’d arrived all those years ago, scared and trembling. They were the ones who had comforted him those first nights away from his family. It had been Tehar and Erasan who had instructed Feyar, then a shy boy, in the art of pleasing a woman.

Not that I have had need of such skills once Tanish claimed me, heart, body, and soul.
There had been no one else in all those years.

Feyar groaned as he sat in the chair. “That explains what I saw.” Quickly he told her of the girl in the city, claimed by the guards. “She must be Erasan’s replacement.” He scowled. “Who decides when we are no longer fit for purpose? Is it the king? His advisers? The council of lords of the Great Houses? And upon what criteria do they base their decision?”

Tehar huffed in resignation. “As if they would tell us.” Her brow knitted. “But if Erasan is to leave, my departure cannot be far behind.” She bit her lip. “Perhaps we might dwell together, when I leave also.”