Shadows Return - Lynn Flewelling [20]
“Let it go, Alec. It’s long past.”
Once upon a time, Alec would have obeyed. “Tell me!”
“You’re not going to like it.”
“Obviously.”
Seregil dropped his arm and rubbed a hand over his face. “All right then. Korathan and I? We were lovers.”
Alec gaped at him. This was the last thing he’d expected to hear. “Really?”
“We were both very young and it didn’t last long. Phoria caught us together and that was the end of it. But she’s never forgiven me.”
Alec was still trying to take it in. “You? And Korathan?”
“I warned you that you wouldn’t like it.”
Alec stretched out beside Seregil, leaving a little more space between them than usual. It had always been difficult, knowing that Seregil had bedded hundreds of men and women before he’d come along—and more after, too, for that matter. It was harder still when he learned their names and faces, and that so many of them, like Lady Kylith or the courtesan Eirual, were still good friends. And now it was Prince Korathan, whom Alec had always admired.
“When was this?”
Seregil stared up at the gauzy silk canopy. “Not long after I came to court. Korathan was always very kind and I was still reeling from—well, you know.”
Ilar í Sontir, thought Alec. Seregil always had a hard time speaking of the seducer who’d cost him his family, his name, and his homeland. Alec had stored the name and the story in his heart, the one time Seregil had told him the sordid tale. He looked over at Seregil, gauging the worry in his lover’s grey eyes.
“Why did Phoria care if you two were—together?” he asked at last.
“Because she’s owned her brother from the womb. Twins often have a strong bond. And some a bit too strong, if you take my meaning?”
“You’re not serious!”
Seregil shrugged. “Rumors have been floating around for years. And neither of them have ever married, have they?”
“But she had Lord Barieus as a lover. She mourned him like a husband when he died.”
“True, but he’s the only one I know of. Korathan doesn’t always sleep alone, but from what I’ve heard, never with anyone who matters. No, he’s devoted his whole life to Phoria and will until he dies.”
“So she hates you for something that happened, what, almost forty years ago?”
“If there’s one thing Phoria excels at, talí, it’s holding a grudge.”
Seregil was relieved when Alec finally let the subject drop, but it was some time before he could get to sleep. He hated that singular sort of silence Alec pulled around himself when the subject of Seregil’s previous liaisons came up. Alec was normally the most reasonable and easygoing of men; but on this one topic he always grew troubled, though he wouldn’t say much about it. All Seregil could do was avoid the subject. He made no apologies for his past, but he hated causing Alec pain. He wanted nothing more right now than to pull the stubborn young man into his arms and apologize, but Alec had turned his back and seemed to be asleep.
Seregil lay awake a long time, watching the sun slowly pass across the window.
Far across the Osiat, the khirnari of Virésse sat on his balcony, enjoying a late breakfast with his eldest daughter as he watched that same sunlight dance on the waves in the harbor below. There were fewer ships there these days, and fewer still that hailed from Skala. The three great merchantmen at anchor near the harbor mouth flew the standards of Plenimaran houses; that land had always been a good friend to Virésse.
Ulan í Sathil was an old man and not easily startled. He didn’t flinch when a tiny, pale green orb of light suddenly winked into existence inches from his face. He recognized the bit of Orëska magic, but not the sender’s color.
“Would you excuse me, my dear?” he said.
“Of course, Father.” Saliana withdrew, used to her father’s ways. She could be trusted to say nothing of the odd messenger.
Ulan reached out one long finger and touched the spark, marveling as always that it had neither heat nor any form. He might not know the sender, but he knew the voice that spoke the message as the light disappeared.
“I have watched