“You think I’m jealous?” Danilo turned to him, and Regis saw the hurt in his paxman’s eyes. “That’s not it at all! I know very well that you are expected to furnish the Comyn with as many sons as you can. I accepted your liaisons with women over the years, even the malicious gossipyou spoke of. Did I complain when you and Linnea became lovers? Did I do anything to make life more difficult for you? Did I ever—once—ask you to set her or any other woman aside?”
“No, you have ever been faithful to the vows we swore to one another.” If there has been a failing, it has been mine.
“Then why this sudden change?” Danilo demanded. “Why, when you were so opposed to marriage, when you consistently defied your grandfather and the entire Council on the matter, did you suddenly take it into your head to propose? Why did you keep it secret? Do you have so little trust in me? What else are you hiding?”
Regis rocked back in the saddle, causing the pony to flick its tail in protest. Danilo’s anguish brought back the wretched fight surrounding Crystal Di Asturien’s pregnancy. Regis ought to have told Danilo himself, but the news had come, in the most spiteful manner, from Dyan Ardais. Danilo had been hurt and outraged, then as now. His sense of betrayal had not arisen from Regis sleeping with a woman but from the secrecy about an event that had the power to drastically alter both their lives.
“I’ve never kept my relationship with Linnea secret,” Regis protested. “You knew that if I ever gave in to Grandfather’s demands, she would be the one. You and she get along tolerably well, and I thought of her as a friend. More than that, she is of my own choosing, not some brood mare selected for me by the Council.”
“What a nice, convenient solution!” Danilo barked. “You get your grandfather and the Council off your back, and Comyn Castle gets a chatelaine, all at very little trouble to yourself!”
Regis bit back a hot reply. His temper had been in shreds when they began this conversation, and it was increasingly difficult not to take out his frustration on Danilo.
“I suppose what decided me,” Regis said, trying his best to speak calmly, “was seeing little Kierestelli. I had no idea a child could bring me such delight. I don’t want her to grow up not knowing me.”
“And this is why you proposed to her mother, without so much as mentioning the possibility? Excuse me, vai dom,but that is nonsense. You could have ordered the child to be fostered in Thendara, where you might see her at your convenience.”
In his memory, Regis saw the snug little room, heard the lilt of Linnea’s harp and the sweetness of Kierestelli’s flute. In a low voice, he said, “It would not be the same.”
Had he finally encountered something in life in which Danilo had no part? Sadness shivered through him.
How can I choose between them . . . the man I love, to whom I am sworn, and the family I never knew I longed for?
It came to him, in a rush that left him breathless and his hands limp on the reins, that Danilo had made exactly this choice. Made it with without hesitation, without a backward glance, without ever a hint of recrimination at the cost.
“Danilo, do you ever regret what you have given up? I know you were raised cristoforo,and they do not look kindly upon lovers of men. You must have been taught to want a wife and family . . .”
“I am hardly an observant cristoforo.It was my father’s faith, one I accepted without question when I was a child,” Danilo said with such bleak finality that Regis could think of nothing that would reach him.
“As for the other matter, do not trouble yourself. I have never thought to marry, my lord. I am entirely at your service. Perhaps next time you will see fit to advise me before you decide to marry.”
Regis raised one hand to his heart to ease the ache there. He could not remember such a gulf between them. And he did not know what to do to bridge this one.
“Danilo . . .”
“Regis, let it go. Please. We’re both hurt and angry, but it will pass.”
Danilo was right. The proposal had touched a sore point, one that might never be resolved. It was best to let the matter rest and to go on as best they could, knowing they would always have each other.
The interview with Danvan Hastur did not go well. Regis had delayed as long as he could, stopping first at the Terran Headquarters to meet with Dan Lawton. Dan had masked his disappointment well. Felix was making slow progress and would have greatly benefited from having a Keeper as a guide and mentor. Perhaps, as the remnants of the Comyn returned to Thendara during the old Council season, another teacher could be found.
Regis could not help thinking that if only he had handled the situation better, Linnea would at this moment be preparing to come to Thendara. My clumsiness has cost more than my own pride.
Once the visit with Lawton was concluded, the baggage sent on its way, and the pilot given an additional gift for his excellent services, Regis had returned to the townhouse on the pretext of making himself presentable to his grandfather. Danilo performed his duties as paxman and bodyguard with faultless precision and not a hint of personal feeling.
Danvan’s personal servant, a quiet, meticulous man named Rondo, who had come from Castle Hastur about three years ago, ushered Regis into the master suite of the Hastur apartments in Comyn Castle. After the intimacy of Linnea’s chambers at High Windward, the rooms felt emotionally barren. They were certainly comfortable, warm and well-appointed, the stone walls covered in tapestries. Regis remembered staring at the hanging beside the door leading to his grandfather’s study, trying to decipher which of the two women portrayed was the Blessed Cassilda and which was Camilla, but the threads were so faded, he could not be sure. He imagined the accumulation of years, the unrelenting demands of Comyn honor, blending into an oppressive weight. These walls were no better than the bars of a cage, one that pressed closer with each passing year.
Some day, will I be like Grandfather, an irascible old tyrant with only dreams of past Comyn glories for comfort?Danvan Hastur was revered throughout the Seven Domains. Regis knew that his own unhappiness put such thoughts into his mind.
The servant gestured for Regis to enter his grandfather’s study. Wincing at the formality, Regis turned to Danilo. “You’d better wait here. He’ll be upset enough, and I don’t want him to take it out on you.”
“As you wish.” An unreadable emotion flickered behind Danilo’s eyes. Then he added, in a voice low enough so the servant could not overhear, “Don’t let him bully you, bredhyu.”
Regis felt a smile rise from his heart, stopping just short of his lips. He nodded to Danilo and followed the servant inside. The room, like the rest of the suite, was very much as Regis remembered it, untouched by time. A faint aroma of beeswax polish, paper, and leather book bindings hung in the air. A fire brightened the hearth, and ranks of candles produced enough light for even aged eyes to read easily.
Danvan Hastur stood beside his writing table, bracing himself on one hand, a man who once had been strongly built, of commanding presence, but who had now shriveled into a husk. Looking at his grandfather, Regis felt a wave of pity. Time and too many seasons had quenched the fire that once burned in those blue eyes. How many years did the old man have left, and how many of those would he insist on wasting in service to a world that, very possibly, no longer wanted it?
Regis paused, bowed formally, and then approached. Danvan held out his free hand. Regis took it, feeling the bony joints, the slight trembling in the withered muscles.