Hallowed Bond (Chronicles of Ylandre Book 2) (24 page)

Not so Riodan
, he mused. His former lover had borne his share of more primitive living conditions in the course of his travels abroad during the years before he was appointed a full-fledged ambassador. Strange how they had started their acquaintance with Dylen the more travelled and less sheltered of the two.

Riodan had long left his naïveté behind. He was not as open as he used to be and indeed was inclined to reticence where once he had been quite talkative and cheerfully so. Of course, such changes came with maturity and the tempering force of experience.

Dylen tried not to think about the other possible reason for Riodan’s less than sunny outlook these days—especially when a faint sense of guilt nagged at him.

He angrily shoved the thought aside, indignant that he should feel guilty about anything. But when he joined Riodan on the veranda at the back of the inn, he found it difficult to sustain his irritation.

Riodan’s face lit up with pleasure as soon as Dylen appeared. It always did. And fast on its heels came a diffidence that was uncharacteristic of a Deir who had a reputation for speaking and acting with confidence even in the presence of powerful foreign rulers.

When he was with Dylen, Riodan tended to walk on eggshells, his unspoken fear of resurrecting the past and triggering Dylen’s resentment over it shadowing his every word and deed. Though he had not admitted it to anyone, it left Dylen feeling uncomfortable and not a little wistful for the expressive plainspoken Riodan of old.

It was their last full day in Varthe. The following afternoon would find them back in Shenze, ready to be embroiled once more in the intricacies of Asmaran politics and the difficulties of a clandestine investigation of a royal in-law. They lounged on the veranda, their conversation desultory for the most part, until the innkeeper brought them the day’s mail, forwarded to them by the embassy in Shenze.

These were personal correspondence—official communications were conveyed by

embassy couriers. Nonetheless, Riodan’s sire affixed his diplomatic insignia to his missive. And Guyon Barath was not above stamping his family’s crest into the wax seal of his letter. Riodan’s lips curled in displeasure at such petty posturing.

Meanwhile, Dylen read his four letters. One was from his father, another from Rohyr by way of Lassen and a third was from Gilmael updating him on minor changes he had made among personnel in their Ministry. The fourth letter caused him to stiffen and abruptly sit up.

The sudden movement attracted Riodan’s attention.

*

Riodan surreptitiously observed Dylen’s expression then dropped his eyes to the topmost envelope on the low table between them. The sender’s name was clearly visible, and he easily read it. He looked up to meet Dylen’s watchful gaze. Riodan stole a peek at the adjoining sitting room, wary of eavesdroppers.

“You can speak freely,” Dylen said.

Riodan sensed the sudden presence of invisible walls around them. He wondered once more about the extent of Dylen’s abilities. But now was not the time or the place to probe.

“What has Sereth written that bothers you?” he asked as casually as he could muster.

Dylen looked pensive. “Not bothersome exactly,” he murmured. “I am only at a loss as to how to respond to him as kindly and inoffensively as possible.”

“Why? Did he ask a favor of you?”

“Nay, not a favor.” Dylen suddenly rose and stood at the balustrade enclosing the veranda. He stared somewhat broodingly at the nearby mountains. Finally, he turned around and somberly regarded Riodan. “He wants a definite answer to his offer.”

Riodan felt a stab of apprehension. “What offer?” he cautiously asked.

“Sereth asked me to bind to him just before we left Ylandre,” Dylen quietly said.

Riodan drew in his breath sharply. He turned his face away, swallowing hard as he did. When he looked at Dylen once more, his eyes were moist and slightly reddened, but he managed a crooked smile.

“Congratulations are in order then,” he ventured.

Dylen shook his head. “I didn’t accept his proposal.” After a moment’s hesitation, he whispered, “I don’t think I can.”

Riodan stared at him. “Why do you say that?”

“I’m afraid,” was the unexpected answer.

“Afraid of what?”

“Of entrapping myself.” Dylen fell silent for a fraught while. At length, he said, “I was right all those years ago. I shouldn’t have allowed myself to fall in love.”

My doing
, Riodan bleakly thought. He stood up and approached Dylen. “Don’t let what I did ruin love for you,” he softly entreated. “If taking a mate will make you happy, grab the chance and hold on.”

Dylen laughed mirthlessly. “But it won’t make me happy.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t love him.” Dylen squarely faced Riodan. “I took the chance once before against all good sense and…” A sad smile curved his lips. “I’m not sure I have it in me to risk it again.”

Riodan could only mutely gaze at him. Dylen’s smile faded.

“Your sire was right though,” he said. “You were better off leaving me.”

Riodan‘s brow furrowed. He asked, “What did he say?”

Dylen’s eyes glazed over a bit in recollection. “That if I loved you, I’d let you go,”

he tonelessly said. “Your future was at stake, and a
hethar
couldn’t have given you much of one.”

An anguished groan escaped Riodan. He grabbed Dylen by the arms and gave him a little shake. “He was wrong, Dy,” he hoarsely said. “When he took me away from you, I lost the most beautiful—nay, the one perfect thing I could ever hope to know in my whole life. I lost your love.”

“Yet when we met again, it was plain you were unhappy I had sought you out,”

Dylen snapped. “Deity’s blood, none of my patrons ever demeaned me the way you did that night, Rio!” He jerked back, compelling Riodan to let go. “I have reproached myself all these years for being such a fool to believe that you loved me. And an even greater fool for returning what was so obviously false.”

“It wasn’t false!” Riodan protested.

“Then why, Rio?” Dylen harshly asked. “Why did you pretend that I was no more than a mere whore you’d bought to pass the night?”

It was not Dylen’s anger or contempt that nearly broke Riodan’s resolve. Rather it was the grief and disillusionment in Dylen’s earth green eyes that almost wrenched Riodan’s courage from him. But Dylen had lived with the torment of his betrayal for far too long. Riodan owed him the truth at the very least. Even if the truth destroyed all chances of rapprochement between them.

Riodan drew a shaky breath. “It is as you accused me,” he softly explained. “Public knowledge of our affair would have seriously compromised my reputation in some circles. You know full well
Aba
is not alone in his disapproval of liaisons between well-born Deira and members of your fraternity.”

“I had no intention of revealing our affair,” Dylen bitterly retorted. “I held no hope for anything more between us save our friendship which
you
swore to uphold evermore.

And I dared to trust you, Rio. I believed you. And you betrayed that trust without a second thought.”

Riodan swallowed hard. “Out of fear,” he admitted, shame roughening his voice. “I had learned to be as ambitious as
Aba
. Guyon is over proud. He would have broken our betrothal forthwith had he learned the truth.”

Dylen abruptly turned his gaze away. “You esteem him so greatly,” he muttered, unable to keep his hurt from limning his voice. “I suppose you love him as much.”

Guilt-stricken at Dylen’s obvious pain, Riodan placed a hand on his back in an awkward attempt to soothe him. Dylen stiffened but did not move away.

“I have loved only one Deir with all my heart, and he isn’t Guyon,” Riodan whispered. When Dylen glanced at him skeptically, he sadly smiled. “I did place much importance on my family’s connection to the Baraths. You probably don’t know, let alone care, but the Barath baronetcy goes back many generations. And a
serl’
s son is considered a very good catch amongst the gentry. More to the point, it was due to Guyon’s grandparents that my sire came to the Ardan Joren’s attention when he was fresh out of university.”

“Is that why he tried to betroth you to Guyon’s uncle? To pay a debt of gratitude?”

“You might say that.”

“So you declined the older but accepted the younger.” Dylen’s voice dripped with scorn. “He is more to your taste I take it.”

Riodan shook his head. “Guyon is not cruel like his uncle. When we came to be friends, I found it easy to get along with him. And I’m not proud to admit it but I chose to ignore his less admirable traits for the sake of keeping the peace.” He bit his lip then murmured, “I held some affection for Guyon, but I never loved him as I love you.”

Dylen narrowed his eyes. “Why do you speak of him in the past tense?”

“Because my regard for him vanished when he belittled you,” Riodan admitted. “I’ve realized that he isn’t worth the cost of losing you. And neither is rank nor reputation.

What good is acclaim if the price for it is loneliness and a loveless union?”

“You were once more than willing to pay that price,” Dylen reminded him.

Riodan pulled his hand away as if scorched. “And you would have me pay it.” He sighed. “But, after all, what more fitting punishment could you mete one as contemptible as I?”

Dylen grimaced. “That is not—” he began to say.

But Riodan cut in. “I’ve troubled you enough. I won’t do so again. You have my word, Your Grace.”

He turned to go, shoulders drooping, his head bowed. But Dylen caught him by the elbow and drew him back. Riodan’s eyes widened in surprise.

Dylen released his arm and looked away, his cheeks coloring. Riodan’s worry gave way to wonder.

“Dy?” he murmured.

“I’m sorry, Rio,” Dylen unexpectedly said. He met Riodan’s gaze. “That was uncalled for. You took the risk and humbled yourself before me. And I would never…”

He took a deep breath. “I couldn’t take the burden of such a marriage upon myself. How could I wish it on anyone else? Least of all you.”

Giving Riodan no time to ponder his words, he hurried on. “And contrary to what I have led you to believe, I don’t seek to avenge myself on you. Indeed, I weary of our rift.” He reached out a conciliatory hand. “I would put the past behind us. I would that we called each other friend again.”

Riodan stared at him in speechless amazement for several moments. Then a faint smile curved his mouth. He eagerly grasped Dylen’s hand and the possible reconciliation it signified.

“Yes!” he said, his voice light with hope. “Yes, I would like that very much.”

Chapter Nineteen

Dylen studied Riodan curiously as the diplomat sat down to breakfast the first morning after their return from Varthe. He seemed more light-hearted than was his wont.

From the moment he entered the dining hall, he exchanged unusually cheerful greetings with everyone he encountered, even reducing a newly bound aide to blushes with a bawdy quip. A quick look around told Dylen he was not the only one to notice.

Furtive glances in their direction there were aplenty for Riodan had not been seen to smile so openly or indulge in mischievous remarks since his arrival in Shenze. For that matter, his reputation in diplomatic circles was that of a witty, tactful Deir who seldom, if ever, let others see any side of him but the one carefully crafted for duty. The one exception to the rule, Dylen knew, was when a situation had to do with him, something he had heard a few observant Deira comment on before now. But obviously most assumed it was a matter of two personalities not quite getting along and therefore even fewer appeared to suspect there was more to their oft fractious encounters than that.

Riodan blithely piled his plate with glazed gammon and steamed spicy sausages, poached egg topped with a delicately seasoned sauce, richly buttered toast, sweet nut rolls and assorted South Vihandran fruit such as flavorsome golden manga, fleshy finger-shaped sunfruit, and a verdant variety of melon. Dylen’s eyes widened at the rather gargantuan meal. Whence Riodan’s hearty appetite this morning?

He continued to watch the ambassador over his cup of
kahvi
. He had started breakfast much earlier and could now observe his companion at his leisure. Halfway through his meal, Riodan finally noticed his intent regard. He glanced up, smiling inquiringly around a mouthful of sausage.

Dylen put his cup down and gestured to Riodan’s plate. “I thought only adolescents and breeding Deira ate so much.”

Riodan glanced down at his food and let out an amused huff. He took a swig of honey sweetened citrus juice then shyly beamed at Dylen.

“I do seem to have overdone it,” Riodan conceded. “But if you recall, I always had a hearty appetite. Your
adda
used to warn me to slow down if I didn’t want to grow to the size of a barge.”

That further lifted Dylen’s already raised eyebrows. Riodan avoided reminiscing about the past lest the memories stirred Dylen’s volatile temper where he was concerned.

“Yes, I do recall those days,” Dylen cautiously agreed. “But surely you haven’t been eating thusly since then. You’d be as large as a battleship if you have.”

Riodan chortled. “You’re right. I haven’t eaten like this in ages. I just woke up with a keen appetite, and I don’t know why.” He paused, his smile faltering slightly. “Or at least I do know why though it seems wicked to take pleasure in it,” he murmured.

“Take pleasure in what?”

Dylen wondered as color rose in Riodan’s face. The ambassador bit his lip then looked almost self-consciously around the hall before turning back to answer.

“I sent a letter to Guyon yestereve,” he quietly said. “I ended our betrothal.”

Dylen stared at him. “But it was for the sake of that betrothal that you—” He broke off and just looked at Riodan incredulously.

Riodan shook his head. “It isn’t worth it. It never was. Why should I maintain an arrangement that isn’t right for him or me?” He gazed at Dylen, his heart in his eyes. The sight nearly stole the breath from Dylen’s breast. “And it barred the way for me to ever fully make amends for the wrong I did you.”