Page 13 of The Second Marriage
“Do I seem troubled?” Sejun sat down, arranging his robe to lie over his folded legs. “I simply miss my favorite aunt, and wanted a few minutes to talk with her.”
Hasri’s pursed lips said she suspected Sejun of being full of nonsense. “Prince Taral said you’re agreeable. I’ve never heard a bigger lie than that, so I know there’s something amiss.”
“I agreed to this marriage, didn’t I?” Sejun asked, hearing the bitterness in his own voice and wishing at once that he hadn’t spoken.
Hasri set her hand on his shoulder. “Tell me what’s wrong, please.”
Sejun fiddled with the tails of his belt. “Can I ask—what made you think Taral and I would be a good match?”
Hasri frowned at him. “What do you mean? He’s the prince. Of course it’s a good match. Now Merek is tied to the royal household. We’ve never had such status before.”
“Wasn’t there anything about our personalities that made you think we’d be compatible?”
“Well. He’s a serious person, so I thought the two of you would balance each other out in that way.” Hasri paused for several moments, then added, “He likes children.”
“I see.” Sejun nodded, waiting for the lump in his throat to subside. “Yes. We’re very well suited, I see.”
Hasri sighed. “Everyone wants a love match these days. Marriage isn’t about love, Sejun. It’s a way to join families together and to share wealth. And, in my opinion, it’s best to leave the messy business of love out of that. Otherwise young people make poor decisions and marry someone inappropriate because they’re distracted by a pretty face.” She patted his shoulder. “There was no love in my marriage at first, but it grew over time. Your uncle and I had many happy years together until his death. I think you’re expecting too much for the first month of your marriage. Give yourselves time to settle in. And if you truly can’t abide him, just take a lover.”
“Such advice I’m being given,” Sejun said, in truth somewhat scandalized. He didn’t want to contemplate what Hasri knew about lovers.
“You can hardly play the innocent when you’ve enjoyed the bed of every willing young man in Merek.” Hasri fixed Sejun with a stern gaze. “I do think you’ll be content with Prince Taral. His references were immaculate. I questioned the servants here after your first marriage, and every one of them described him as a hard-working, diligent, morally upright person. He may not be your perfect match, but he’s a good man and will suit you very well if you can exert yourself to be pleased with him.”
“Thank you, Hasri,” Sejun said, and left her to her prayers.
He went out onto the colonnade, his mood lowered by the conversation rather than lightened. Hehadexerted, and hewaspleased. The problem lay not with his feelings but with Taral’s. Taral was polite and respectful, came willingly into bed with Sejun, made conversation, and all the while projected through the bond such a grimly determined intention to make the best of things that Sejun thought he, Sejun, must be the most inept husband in the world.
He stood at the railing to look down into the courtyard. There was Taral, tossing a hand ball around with Iniya’s daughters. They were both too young to be much good at catching, and the game involved a great deal of running around while gleefully shrieking. Taral was laughing, his face lit with a brighter smile than Sejun ever saw directed at himself, throwing the ball high in the air for the girls to catch as it fell back to earth.
Sejun stood there for a while, watching the colorfully embroidered ball fly upward and drop again in a tight arc. What would he do? What would become of him? He wanted to be a good husband, but he didn’t know how to please Taral.
The ball flew upward. Taral, grinning, glanced up, and his eyes caught on Sejun before Sejun could turn away. Sejun’s cheeks heated at being caught staring, but he lifted a hand in greeting. Taral returned the gesture, then crouched to speak to one of the girls as she ran over holding the ball, and his attention was gone. Sejun walked away.
CHAPTER7
The drinking began at sunset. By the time the evening meal was served, Sejun was moderately inebriated. As the lights in his peripheral vision wobbled and blurred, he decided it was time to switch to water. Taral, seated at his left hand, had limited himself to a single cup of liquor, and Sejun didn’t want to drink to excess and risk Taral’s displeasure.
No one else showed that same restraint. As the meal went on, everyone around the table aside from Iniya’s children grew noisy and careless, although of course the children were noisy and careless as their default state of existence. Even Sejun’s mother—his mother!—began listing against his father’s shoulder and giggling behind her hand.
“Tomorrow will be a quiet morning in Tadasho,” Sejun said to Taral in an undertone, and Taral cracked a smile.
When the meal was finished, everyone relocated to the courtyard. The night was warm and the sky was filled with stars, with one moon dark and the other only a sliver low to the east. The musicians, perhaps also somewhat drunk, struck up an off-tempo cacophony.
Sejun turned to Taral. “Would you dance with me?”
Taral watched him for a moment, his eyes dark in the lantern light. Then he put his hand in Sejun’s and they went into the circle.
Although there had been a few nights of dancing since their second wedding, Taral had never participated. He was either absent entirely or occupied himself with amusing Iniya’s children. Sejun was surprised to find that Taral was an excellent dancer and knew all the steps even better than Sejun, who was more concerned with enjoying himself than with perfect accuracy. Taral spun, clapped, brought his knees high during the stepping parts, and showed no signs of slowing even when Sejun was out of breath and damp beneath the arms.
“You’ve been holding out on me,” Sejun said to him when the musicians paused to drink yet more liquor. “I didn’t know you could dance like that.”
“Now you’ll dance me to death every night, like in the story of Druhi and the five drums.” Taral’s tone was dry, but his eyes held a smile that encouraged Sejun to take a step toward him.
“No, I wouldn’t risk that. Then who would dance with me?”
“Abiral has quick feet,” Taral said, looking toward where the man was holding his older daughter’s hand as she spun around and around in circles.
“I would rather dance with you than anyone else in the world,” Sejun said, and was pleased when Taral’s cheeks darkened and he glanced away.