Roberson, Jennifer - Cheysuli 07 (15 page)

 
          
His
parents, stunned, stared. Aileen roused first. "It
should
!" she snapped. "The woman you'll be taking will
share your bed for the rest of your life. D'ye think
that
makes no difference?"

 
          
Aidan
sighed wearily, murmuring beneath his breath. Then, more clearly, "After
the events of four days ago—when I got this bruise—I think debating the merits
of marriage is the least of my concerns." He slumped against the wall and
yawned, then straightened as if the position hurt. Indifferently, he asked,
"Have you a woman in mind?"

 
          
Aileen
stared at her son. Dark red hair tumbled into his face, until he flung it out
of his eyes like a horse tossing his mane. It was, as usual, badly in need of
cutting; he was lazy about such things. Thick lashes screened his eyes, but
that did not disturb her. His eyes were like his father's; she could not read
his
, either. Aidan was a trifle paler
than usual, and the bluish bruise was temporarily disfiguring, and he acted as
if his ribs hurt; all that aside, he seemed perfectly normal, she thought—except
for a sharper, more pronounced detachment that was, even when weighed against
Aidan's customary feyness, something out of the ordinary.

 
          
"What
events?" she asked suspiciously.

 
          
Aidan
shrugged slightly. "Nothing worth the telling." He scratched gingerly
at the bruise. "
Have
you a woman
in mind—or are you simply wanting to argue?"

 
          
It
was Brennan's turn to stare, albeit from a more awkward position. He frowned,
marking the bruise, the pallor, the unfeigned detachment that spoke, to him, of
boredom. Aidan was often detached, but rarely ever bored.

 
          
Brennan
glanced at Aileen, seeking an explanation. Clearly she was as baffled by
Aidan's demeanor. In that they always agreed. "No," he answered
finally. "It had only just come up."

 
          
"
Brought
up by your father." But
Aileen's tone was less than hostile. "D'ye really not care?"

 
          
Aidan
smiled at her. "You cared because you loved Corin.
Jehan
cared because he knew it, and because he thought you might be
worth the loving." He glanced briefly at his father, then back at his
mother. "It makes no difference to me. There have been women in my bed,
but none I want to keep there. If you have a candidate for eternity, I am
willing to listen."

 
          
Aileen
glanced at Brennan. "Hart has four daughters."

 
          
"And
Keely, one." Brennan pulled at a lobeless ear, reaching for a long-absent
earring. "Maeve has a daughter. Maeve has
two
."

 
          
Aileen's
tone was odd. "Legitimate, if you please." Brennan scowled; Maeve was
his favorite. "Maeve's daughters
are
legitimate. She and Rory are married."

 
          
Aidan's
tone was amused. "She wants a princess for me."

 
          
Aileen
folded her arms. " 'Tis better for a prince."

 
          
He
grinned, laughing in silence. "Very well, five princesses to pick from.
Unless you take bids from other kingdoms, such as Ellas and
Caledon
."

 
          
"No,"
Brennan said thoughtfully. "There is the prophecy to think of. We now know
the four realms mentioned… we need add no other blood."

 
          
"No,"
Aidan agreed. "Only the Ihlini."

 
          
Brennan
looked at him sharply. "No son of mine—"

 
          
"Of
course not,
jehan
." Aidan's tone
was dryly deferential as he stretched out booted feet and planted both heels.
"So, am I to choose sight unseen?"

 
          
Aileen
frowned. " 'Twas what was done for us, your father and I. We saw naught of
each other."

 
          
"And
look at the result." Aidan's smile was so charmingly disarming, neither of
them could respond immediately. "You are both of you fools—or
skilfins
," he continued, ignoring
their stricken stares. "The Prince of Homana at least has the courage to
admit he loves the Princess… she might do as well. Old wounds do heal—if you
give them the time." He looked straight at his mother. "Twenty-four
years is a long time. I'm thinking the two of you might be happier if you
started all over again."

 
          
"How
can you—" Aileen cut it off. Color waned in her face. "Oh, no,"
she whispered dazedly. "Deirdre said it might be true—she did say it might
show itself…" Even her lips were white. "How long have you known how
I feel? How your father feels?"

 
          
Aidan
frowned. "I have always known how you feel. How either of you feel. How
everybody
feels."

 
          
"Always?"
she echoed blankly.

 
          
Brennan
sat erect. "What are you talking about?"

 
          
Aileen's
hand was on her throat. "
Kivarna
,"
she murmured. "Oh, Aidan, after all this time… and none of us knowing—none
of us
thinking
—"

 
          
"Knowing
what
?" Brennan asked testily.
"What are you talking about?"

 
          
"
Kivarna
," she repeated. "Oh,
gods, Aidan—is that what it is? All this time—is
that
what this is?"

 
          
Her
son and husband stared.

 
          
Aileen
pressed rigid fingers against her face. "All those things we've felt, the
both of us, and you knowing them all—" She squeezed shut her eyes.
"And you not knowing
why
—"

 
          
"Aileen!"
Brennan said sharply. "What are you talking about?"

 
          
"Aye"
Aidan agreed, detachment shredding abruptly. "
Jehana
—"

 
          
Aileen's
face was white. Hands shook as she clasped them tightly in her lap. She tried
to smile at Brennan, but it faltered. "
Kivarna
,"
she said only. "Your son is
Erinnish
,
too." And with that she went out of the room.

 
          
Brennan
stared after her. He had not seen her so distraught in years. Not since Aidan
was young, and troubled by the dreams.

 
          
Frowning,
he turned to his son. Aidan put up his hands. "A word, nothing more. But I
am Erinnish, aye; I have been all my life." He grinned. " 'Twas her
doing, I'm thinking."

 
          
"But
what is it—?" And then he gave it up. "Agh, gods—" Brennan
collapsed once more against the wall. "Perhaps I
should
give you more time—sharing your life with a woman is never
an easy thing."

 
          
Aidan,
like his father, leaned against the wall, but took more care to settle
still-sore ribs. "She really does love you. She always has, in her way.
But she has never admitted it to herself; certainly not to you. She thinks of
Corin, and feels guilty. She believes you deserve better, and so she blames
herself."

 
          
Brennan
sat in silence. Something pinched deep in his belly. Something that whispered
of dread; of a thing left unattended to fester in someone's spirit, shaping a
life for too many years.

 
          
He
swallowed tightly and rolled his head against the wall to look at his son.
"This is what she meant? This—
kivarna
?"

 
          
Aidan
shrugged. "The word is as foreign to me. I have never heard it
before."

 
          
Brennan,
tensing, sat up a little. Very carefully. "But—you can do this? Always?
This reading of people's thoughts?"

 
          
"Not
thoughts. Feelings. And only bits of them. I thought everyone did." Aidan
carefully felt his discolored cheekbone. His tone, now, was deliberate: he
wanted to change the subject. "Have you ever come off your horse?"

 
          
"Many
times." Brennan's thoughts were not on enforced dismountings. "Aidan—"
He frowned. "You have been able to do this since childhood?"

 
          
Aidan
lifted a single shoulder. "It began very young. I cannot say precisely
when."

 
          
Gods, he can be cold
—"—young,"
Brennan echoed. "Such as a night in the Great Hall, with the Lion… and a
chain."

 
          
Aidan
turned his head deliberately and looked into his father's eyes. What Brennan
saw made him cringe. "I thought everyone felt it. That it required no
explanation."

 
          
"I
should have listened," Brennan rasped. "I should have listened then.
Even Ian sees it."

 
          
"Jehan—"

 
          
"How
is a child to trust when his parents give him no chance to say what troubles
him most?" Brennan shut his eyes. "Gods, I have been a fool… and I
have made you this way."

 
          
Aidan's
tone was tight. "What way,
jehan
?
What 'way'
am
I?"

 
          
"Different."
The answer was prompt. "Private. Withdrawn. Guarded. As if you trust none
of us." The pain tore at his vitals. "I did that to you."

 
          
"If
you are concerned that I know everything you think, everything you
feel
—"

 
          
"No."
Brennan cut him off. "What you know, you know; how much does not matter.
What matters now is that you have this ability… and that you dream
dreams."

 
          
Aidan's
smile was wintry. "Everyone dreams."

 
          
"
Gods
—" But he let it get no
farther. His mind was racing, running back over the years, over the memories,
drawing from the deepest part of the well the things that glittered most
brightly, like the keen edge of a new blade. "You were ill so often, and
for so long…"It was not an explanation. It was not a just excuse. It was
nothing more than a father's plea for understanding from a child he has turned
away through misinterpretation. "You spoke to the Mujhar."

 
          
Aidan's
tone was closed. "I spoke to my grandsire."

 
          
"But
not to me, nor your
jehana
."
Brennan's jaws clenched. "I suppose we deserved it, your meticulous
privacy. But it was so long ago—did you never think to try again?"

 
          
Aidan's
gaze was unflinching. "I sense
feelings
.
At first, I knew you were only frightened, worried for my welfare. But you changed,
even as I did. You began to realize a child's fancies were being carried over
into adulthood." Aidan's expression was taut. "Your feelings were all
too blatant: you questioned my sanity. My worthiness for the Lion." His
mouth warped a little. "How many children, even those in a man's body,
care to discuss it with a
jehan
who
wonders such things?"

 
          
Brennan's
face was ravaged. "If you had told us of this ability—"

 
          
Aidan's
tone sharpened. "I did not know what it was."

 
          
"If
you had said
anything
—"

 
          
"You
gave me no leave to try." Unsteadily, Aidan straightened. "But now
you have, and I have said something of it. Enough. It has a name, now… better
we leave it at that."

 
          
"How?
There are things to be settled…"

 
          
"Such
as marriage?" Aidan smiled. "Perhaps it is not such a bad idea."