Missed Connections (73 page)

"Such bitterness does not become you," Demas said, shaking his head. "War is a game above all, with lives as playing tokens. Every diplomat knows that. You served the Emperor well. He will not forget your sacrifice, minor as it was compared with some. You will be rewarded, trust me."

Kaeth had no wish to appear ungrateful, so he did not admit that he wanted no such reward. He knew the Emperor would offer him some minor position in the diplomatic corps, or possibly gold or property of his own. The one thing Kaeth really wanted was the one thing the Emperor had no power to bestow.

"You didn't let me finish telling you about King Scurlock's communication. As it happens, he is offering you something that should please the emperor as much as it does me."

"Offering me something?" Kaeth blinked.

"Yes—a position in his court, albeit at one remove. King Scurlock is planning to install Prince Elvar as Regent of a new northern territory he has just acquired, and the two of them agree that you would be perfect to serve on his council. A high compliment indeed."

"What? But why?"

"Isn't it obvious? He was impressed with your character. Who wouldn't be? I'm glad to see everything I taught you about deportment didn't go to waste. You played your role perfectly." Demas laughed with genuine pleasure. "Anyhow, I am inclined to answer this in a positive way on your behalf. I shan't commit anything yet. We will negotiate. Possibly make it to an even higher position."

Kaeth felt his heart sink. He knew he had no choice, since his father was obviously in favor of the plan. Elvar would have his wish. They would be bonded forever, or at least until Elvar tired of him and banished or beheaded him… and without Jerel, he could not say he even cared what became of him.

"Prince Elvar is prepared to discuss the matter further while we are both here. I will need a scribe, though. Not one of my own—someone neutral. An academic. We must record each offer and counteroffer as we negotiate your future. Scurlock is wily and will say we tricked his son if we do not record the proceedings exactly."

An idea seized Kaeth. "As it happens, we have one of the best scribes in the kingdom here. His name is Jerel. He has many years of experience and none is considered better at what he does."

"Oh? How fortunate. Very well. I will send a servant to find this paragon and bring him here."

"Nay," Kaeth interrupted hastily. "He is most likely working and will not speak to a servant. I am acquainted with the man and can gain access to his workroom. I will get him."

Before Demas could object, Kaeth hurried out. Jerel had one last chance to explain his true feelings. If he truly did not care for Kaeth, he would have to prepare the written contract that would take Kaeth away forever.

*~*~*

Despite the objections of almost everyone, Kaeth discovered Jerel had left the healing room as soon as he felt strong enough to stand. Kaeth entered the library on soft steps, mindful of its peaceful, almost reverent atmosphere. Instinctively, he knew where to look. Sure enough, Jerel was at the rear of the library, beneath the great window, hard at work on what appeared to be the translation of a brittle old scroll. He seemed too absorbed to notice Kaeth's approach.

"I must speak to you," Kaeth said, stopping in front of his desk. Jerel looked up at him, blinking in surprise.

"How did you know I was here?"

"You always took breakfast early and started work at dawn." Kaeth ignored the twinges of pain the memory inspired in him. Both of them rose early to study, but mostly so that they could have the rest of the day to be together. "You always claimed the light was best then."

Jerel nodded slowly, obviously accessing some of the same reminiscences. "The light is best, my eyes are fresh, and my mind is rested. All true."

"Where is Merwyn this morning?"

"Merwyn is not an early riser. I do my best to accommodate him."

Kaeth blushed, imagining Jerel slipping out of bed and leaving Merwyn happily tangled in the sheets and dreaming of their night together. Was that why Merwyn had not come running with the others when the fire had broken out? Had he been asleep then, too?

He shook his head to clear it. "I… trust you suffered no ill effects from the accident?"

"None. I think it is safe to say I will proceed as before—however, I will do so with my eyes open a bit wider from now on. Your Dragon Star tried to warn me, but I would not listen." He set down his quill and waited. "So, how may I assist you?"

Now that the moment was upon him, Kaeth found his tongue growing numb. "My father has arrived," he blurted.

"So I heard." Steepling his fingers, Jerel leaned forward and rested his head on them. "He must have been most relieved to see you again… as we all were."

"If he was, he gave no sign of it. But that has always been his way. However, he brought with him an interesting proposition regarding my future. I wanted… I wanted your advice."

"Oh? I would have thought your future was assured with Prince Elvar."

"Yes—that is exactly the point." Kaeth opened his mouth to say more, but paused when the annoyed expression on Jerel's face turned to one of puzzlement. "What is it?"

Jerel motioned for quiet. "Did you hear something?"

"No."

"I know every sound in this archive at every hour of the day or night. 'Tis out of place."

"Do you mean someone is coming?"

"No. It was a sort of scraping sound… movement… as if... wait! Get down! Quickly!"

Before Kaeth had time to register what was happening, Jerel leapt up and wrapped both arms around him. A heartbeat later, with a thunderous crash, the archive shelves came down, one imploding into the next as scrolls and codices alike flew out at various angles. Flying pages darkened the room like birds taking wing all at once and blotting out the sun. Kaeth thought he felt the floor tilt under him, as though the world itself were coming loose from its roots. Even the air seemed to be sucked from the enclosed space and he could neither see nor breathe.

He was, however, very much aware of Jerel's strong arms wrapped around his waist and pulling him close. No doubt there were worse ways to die, he reflected, if such were what the stars had intended for him today.

When Kaeth finally opened his eyes, he found Jerel still holding him. They were huddled together against the rear corner of the library. Dust, flung up from the scrolls and books now piled around them, choked him and made his nose and throat burn. Most of the shelves had come down at an angle, the nearest having impacted the stone wall instead of them. It slanted over their heads, leaving just enough room to sit up. Another blocked the window, having just missed the glass panes but demolishing Jerel's work tables. Kaeth marveled that he had lost two desks in the space of a single night and morning—either of which he could have been seated at when the accident occurred. That was an amazing coincidence, unless—no. He refused to entertain the fantastical thought that popped into his head.

"Are you hurt?" Jerel coughed and moved his hands along Kaeth's sides as if to see if anything was broken.

 "Nay—and I daresay I have you to thank. 'Twas fortunate you recognized the sound of the shelves coming down. You acted quickly and bravely."

"I confess I am at a loss to know how it happened. These shelves have never tipped before. I cannot imagine what might have caused such an event."

Again Kaeth surveyed the destruction. They had no hope of righting the shelves themselves, especially when there was hardly room to stand up. Trying to weave their way around them back to the front of the library seemed a dangerous undertaking indeed. "Someone will come and pull us out, surely?"

"No doubt. Best we sit still and avoid too much movement. The shelves could well shift again and decide to crush us after all." Jerel's mouth turned downward in a grimace. "The damage to my books is bound to be severe… yet I am relieved to find you unharmed."

In spite of the chaos around them, and their narrow escape from death, Kaeth could not help smiling. "You love these scrolls, don't you? They give you greater pleasure than any man's company ever could."

"Nay, I would not go so far. Yet I can love them without fear of betrayal. The same cannot be said of most men."

Kaeth felt a stabbing in his heart, for he knew Jerel was talking about him. He had never thought of his actions as betrayal, but in thinking back on them now he saw why Jerel might have interpreted them that way. Perhaps he was too much like his father in that sense—he did not find it easy to express his feelings aloud, and in seeking to protect Jerel three years ago, he had actually wounded him more than he had even dreamed possible.

"What of Merwyn?" he forced himself to ask. "Can you not bring yourself to trust him, either?"

"What of —?" At first, Jerel did not seem to grasp what Kaeth's meaning. Then his brows sank and he blew out a harsh breath. "Kaeth, do you really not know me at all anymore? How could you think I was serious about that?"

"I fear I do not follow you. Serious in what way?"

"I said what I did about Merwyn to test you. I wanted to see if it would anger you… the way it angers me to see you with Elvar."

"Then… there is no one?"

"You know there's never been anyone but you for me." Jerel's voice grew raspy with emotion. "I simply wanted you to think I had found another and moved forward with my life—as you have."

"As I have? What does that mean?"

Jerel smacked his hands against the stone floor. "Must you answer me with a question every time? Do not pretend you know not of what I speak. I am referring to Prince Elvar, of course! Did you not come here even now to discuss him with me? As though I could ever have anything positive to say about that treacherous, vulture-faced—"

"Jerel, you must calm yourself! Nothing exists between Prince Elvar and I. Yes, he wishes it—I suspect my father would not mind a more personal connection, either, if it increases his standing with the Emperor and helps bring King Scurlock to heel. Peace between our kingdoms would prove an added benefit."

"Then he is not your lover?" Jerel seem to speak with difficulty. In the dim light, Kaeth saw his eyes brighten with moisture and widen with surprise. "You did not share his bed last night?"

"Indeed I did not. That he suggested as much, I do not deny. Nor do I deny that I roundly rejected him."

"I see." Jerel lowered his head and sighed. "Forgive me, I have no right to question you; three long years have passed. We are different people now. I have said that many times since your return, but apparently I have yet to convince myself of its truth."

"In some ways, that is true," Kaeth said softly. "Not in others."

"Yet I know you stopped caring for me before you left."

"Nay! How could you say that?"

"Your actions told me more clearly than words ever could. Why did you never write to me? I know you were permitted some communication during your captivity. Chancellor Berthog told me so herself."

Now came Kaeth's turn to avert his face. "I did not write because I assumed it best for you. When I left to take my place as King Scurlock's hostage, we had no future before us—or so I thought. If I had died in that distant land, as seemed quite possible at the time, where would you be? Chained to a memory. Unable to move forward. All your promise and talent as a scholar wasted."

"I suppose I can follow that reasoning, even if I cannot agree with it," Jerel said through gritted teeth. "However, that does not explain why you agreed to go so readily in the first place. Just because your father and the emperor nominated you to serve as a hostage, you did not have to go along with it. I would have helped you flee if you had but asked me. I would have fought to the death to keep you with me."

Kaeth shook his head. "You do not know my father. When he gets an idea he will not abandon it. 'Twould have been pointless to argue. In any case, my captivity was to guarantee peace between the emperor's forces and King Scurlock's—how could I refuse, when to do so would needlessly cost lives on both sides?"

"Your sacrifice saved many lives," Jerel agreed. He was weeping openly now. The pain of the farewell they had endured lived again between them, hovering in the air like the clouds of dust from the books. "But it nearly cost me mine."

Unable to speak, or even to sob, Kaeth reached for Jerel's face. He used his thumb to wipe away the tears coursing down his heat-flushed cheek. Jerel lifted his hand and stilled Kaeth in mid-motion.

"Nay. You only make things worse. Leave me be."

"Never," Kaeth whispered. "Never again."

He leaned forward until only a hair's breadth separated them. His mouth opened and waited for Jerel, who hesitated for no more than a moment before he tilted his head and accepted Kaeth's kiss.

They drank deeply of one another, careful not to move too much and shift the shelves, letting their lips and tongues share a language too deep for words. By the time they broke apart, Kaeth's cheeks were as wet as Jerel's.

"Can it really be too late? Is there no hope of us starting again? I have searched the stars night after night for three long years, but they tell me naught."

"There is always a chance," Jerel admitted. "But I must confess that the stars do not speak to me. I can only make my own way, day to day. I must live without the kind of certainty you crave." He took a deep breath. "What is certain is that I love you. That will have to suffice."

"It does."

Leaning cautiously forward, they kissed again. This kiss was even sweeter than the first. Kaeth could only try to imagine how much better the next one would be, and the one after that. He was lost in these delightful imaginings when a voice rang through the demolished library.

"Master, are you all right?" Merwyn called. "I have brought help—we are going to dig you out!" They heard him pause and call for others to assist him in moving the shelves.

Kaeth started to answer, but Jerel pressed a hand to his mouth and raised a cautionary brow. Kaeth took it as a signal to fall quiet, which he did.

"I am unharmed," Jerel shouted back over the scraping sounds of shelves being moved, "but I fear Kaeth may be injured. He is breathing, but unresponsive."