Page 12 of The Second Marriage

“How were your dreams?” Sejun asked.

Taral glanced at him. “Well enough. Did you sleep well? I didn’t notice you get up in the night.”

“I slept very well.” Sejun grinned. “My husband wore me out. That’s my new strategy. I’ll never have a bad night again.”

“Oh, well,” Taral said, then was spared having to muster some intelligible response when Daxa knocked on the door to deliver their breakfast.

They sat on the floor to eat, Sejun dressed only in the inner robe he had carelessly draped over his shoulders. Taral glanced again and again at the soft bundle of his cock nestled in its dark thatch of hair, his face heating with the memories of the night before—not with embarrassment but with fresh desire. He could smell Sejun’s body, the musk of his cock, the lingering scent of Taral’s dried slick on his skin, and he would let Sejun topple him backward onto the bed and have him again if Sejun asked. If Sejun so much as reached over and touched his hand.

Sejun added some more pickled chilies to his bowl of rice and stirred them around with his fingers. “Well, what are we to do with ourselves until the liquor offering? Is Iniya a traditionalist? My cousin married into a family that would hardly let him and his wife out of their room until the ten days were up. And they were a love match! That seemed so excessive to me.”

“In the old days, I’m told they would lock the door.”

Sejun snorted. “Can you imagine? That might not be so bad in the winter, but at this time of year a man needs to feel the sun on his face.”

“That’s what the balcony is for,” Taral said, and Sejun laughed. “No, I don’t expect Iniya to care all that much.”

“That’s good. I don’t think I could last all that while without a single party.”

Parties were hardly a regular feature of life in Tadasho. Iniya liked to dance, but that involved little more than some lanterns and a few retainers conscripted to play the flute. Perhaps that was all Sejun meant.

Taral managed to bathe and leave the room again without incident, although he was somewhat stirred up by the heavy-lidded way Sejun watched him throughout. But he refused to spend the next week and more doing nothing but languishing in bed indulging Sejun’s whims. And his own, to be fair. No: there were things to be done.

There was a room on the ground floor of the fortress that he used as his office, a small room without windows where he kept his lap desk and his ledgers and conducted the kingdom’s business. He went there now and settled in to take stock. Between his heat and all the distractions of the marriage proceedings, more days had passed that he cared to admit since he had even looked over his correspondence. Fortunately, nothing of note had escaped him: only the usual, increasingly strongly worded notices that their various payments were overdue, and all of that would be settled soon enough.

He had a letter from an acquaintance in town and a brief note from Simra enclosed with her latest monograph, which he set aside to read later. There was also a letter from Gurratan, which he opened and read with pleasure. Gurratan was well; he sent blessings for Taral’s marriage; he hoped Taral could come for a visit before the baby was born, or after, if that suited him better. Gurratan was enjoying the summer weather and looking forward to a few days at the lake with Ram. He demanded a reply from Taral at once, or whenever Taral could bring himself to take pity on an old friend.

Taral smiled at Gurratan’s familiar blobby script. He picked up his brush to reply. He would be happy to come for a visit as soon as the liquor offering was complete, and he would bring his new husband, because to everyone’s surprise he had somehow managed to bond. He prayed that Gurratan’s pregnancy continued without incident or discomfort. When he finished, he waved the paper to dry the ink and then folded the letter into quarters. He would send it off with Ujesh to deliver, as Gurratan’s farmstead was in Barun along the road to Shershon.

With that done, he sat for a while with his desk on his lap, mentally working down the list of what he needed to do next. He should make an inventory of the dowry, and that would require enlisting Abiral to get Iniya to confess what she had removed and hidden. The Sarnai merchants would arrive soon on their annual trading expedition, and he could get better prices from them as they prized certain mountain goods so highly. He would wait, then, until their arrival before beginning to settle the household’s accounts in earnest.

All of this was important business that needed to be attended to at once. If Iniya were willing to manage Tadasho’s finances, Taral would be content to honor the edict of rest and seclusion. But as it was, there was urgent work to be done. He was by no means trying to avoid Sejun; it simply wasn’t possible to waste his days on leisure, as busy as he was and with so many demands on his time.

He set his desk aside and went to find Ujesh. Sejun would forgive him, he was sure. It was only that there was so much to be done.

* * *

Sejun’s motherslid from her horse and came toward him with her arms open. “My baby.”

Sejun had never felt less like a baby, but he was still grateful to accept his mother’s embrace, and closed his eyes for a moment as she held him close. He hadn’t realized quite how much he would miss his family.

“Oh! You look well,” she said, drawing back to hold his face in her hands and peer at him. “Tadasho suits you, I see.”

“It suits me well enough,” he said. He turned to embrace his father, who clucked over him in much the same way, and then Hasri, who did no clucking but only patted him fondly and stepped back. “Did Batsal not come?”

“He stopped in town to buy a present for Shubhu, who was very unwilling to surrender him for this trip,” Sejun’s father said with a laugh. “He’ll be along soon. Mark my words, I’ll have another grandchild by this time next year.”

“Yes, yours alone, is that it?” Sejun’s mother linked her arm through Sejun’s and turned to Taral, who had been hanging back, giving Sejun a chance to greet his family. “I hope he hasn’t been too much trouble, Your Highness.”

Taral’s somber expression cracked into a slight smile. “Not at all. He’s entirely agreeable.”

Sejun watched him, wishing as always that Taral were—what? That he liked Sejun more than he did. He was eager and urgent in their bed most nights, then in the morning disappeared to whatever it was he did all day. Sejun sometimes spotted him at a distance as he bustled around the fortress with great purpose, but otherwise he hardly saw Taral during the daylight hours.

Iniya came out of the fortress at last, wearing the sleeping baby tied to her back, and immediately set about charming Sejun’s parents and Hasri. She was in her element with a group of people to flatter and entertain. Sejun liked Iniya, but he could see that Taral took on most of the duties of ruling the kingdom, and that Iniya let him. He couldn’t help wishing that Iniya would do more so that Taral would do less, and have more time to devote to Sejun.

He had no chance to speak with Hasri in private until late that afternoon, in the quiet resting period before the evening’s entertainments of dinner and dancing. He found Hasri in her guest room, seated in prayer, and interrupted her without remorse. She had arranged this marriage for him; she could answer to him now, and would have plenty of time for the One God later.

“What’s troubling you?” she asked, patting the floor beside her.