Page 40 of The Second Marriage
Sejun turned from where he stood at the window of their room, looking out at the courtyard garden below. Golden evening light formed patterns on the tiled floor. “Has it begun already?”
“No.” Taral closed the door behind him and joined Sejun at the window. Rows of tidy, trimmed shrubbery radiated outward from a fountain at the center of the courtyard. Well-dressed courtiers strolled along the surrounding arcade, enjoying the summer weather. “That’s a nice garden.”
“Yes,” Sejun agreed. “We’ll be comfortable here for our time in Banuri. Don’t leave me wondering, what happened in your meeting?”
Taral shrugged. “Feba said the Skopai delegation hasn’t arrived yet. Delayed by flooding in eastern Skopa, I’m told. But they ought to be here soon.”
“And then?”
“Feba wants each kingdom to provide a representative for the negotiations. I tried to argue that Dhriti would do better than me, but she won’t hear it.”
“You’re the prince,” Sejun said. “There’s no one better.”
“Well, I’ll listen and say nothing, and with any luck won’t ruin the whole enterprise.” Taral sighed. He had spent the past hour sequestered with Feba and the other royal members of the mountain contingent without even a chance to wash the road dust from his skin. And Jaysha had been in attendance, which was always a trial, to keep his eyes and thoughts from wandering where they shouldn’t. “Feba said there will be a feast tomorrow at midday to mark our arrival, although I imagine any major celebrations will wait until the Skopai come. The Setsennai are here, did you know?”
“Are they? I didn’t think they left their kingdom. Well, except on their ships.”
“Their emperor married a prince of Chedi’s royal house, so they have more to do with the coastal nations than they used to. There’s an delegation in the palace now, an ambassador and some attendants. So we’ll truly have a tale to bring back to Tadasho with us.”
“Your sister will be horribly jealous.”
Taral smiled. “I imagine she will be. Well, at any rate, we have the evening to rest and bathe, and then tomorrow the work begins.”
“For you, maybe. I have no plans to make myself useful. I’ll shop in the city and go to parties. You’ll regret bringing me.”
“I won’t,” Taral said, knowing he was taking Sejun’s teasing too seriously, but also suspicious as he often was that Sejun used teasing to mask his true feelings. “I’ll be glad to have you to amuse me after I spend all day listening to treaty negotiations.” He groaned and rubbed at his face. “I’m already exhausted.”
In truth, he was more worried than exhausted, but he didn’t want to burden Sejun with his concerns. He knew far less than he would have liked about the situation in Banuri. King Aditya’s letter to Feba—she had shared it around during their journey, so that all the delegates would know what she did—provided only the bare facts. Taral paid attention to what happened elsewhere in the world, but the news that filtered into the mountains was often short on details, and his understanding of the political situation in Chedi was broad and general. But there was no way around that; no one among them knew any more than he did. They would all have to keep their eyes and ears open and navigate their way toward a lasting peace.
Sejun put one arm around him. “Poor Taral. I don’t envy you. Let’s enjoy our bath, then, and take advantage of the bed. And privacy.”
Taral’s interest stirred. “You have plans for tonight?”
“Certainly. I’ve been deprived of you for some time now.” Since the night of the feast in Barun, and Taral flushed to remember how Sejun had ridden him, enthusiastically and with no shame. “As you wouldn’t indulge me while we traveled—”
“I was willing!” Taral protested. “You said you couldn’t keep quiet!”
“And now I’ll have no need to,” Sejun said, with an air of satisfaction as if he had won some argument.
A servant tapped at the door then and brought in a tray bearing tea that was mostly milk and small cakes that proved to be filled with a paste of spiced lentils or beans, and quite delicious. As they ate, two men came in carrying a large metal basin, into which other servants emptied buckets of steaming water.
“You first,” Sejun said when the servants were gone, with a dark eagerness to his gaze that Taral couldn’t deny.
The last of the evening light had faded. Sejun lit the lanterns as Taral undressed, filling the room with soft light. The basin was deep enough that Taral could submerge himself up to his chin if he lay back, and he did so with a grateful sigh. His last bath had been in Tadasho, two weeks ago, and he was tired of smelling himself.
Sejun reclined on the bed, watching Taral with lazy, heavy-lidded approval. Taral still didn’t know what to make of the revelation that Sejun was aware of everything he felt. The idea wasn’t as repulsive as it would have been two months before, but Taral couldn’t say he was pleased to learn he had no privacy even in his own thoughts.
He used his cupped hands to pour water over his hair. “What am I feeling right now?”
“Hmm?” Sejun squinted at him. “How am I meant to answer that?”
“Honestly. What can you sense from me?”
“Well… not much at the moment, I suppose. I mainly notice strong emotions or sudden changes in emotion.” Sejun’s mouth pulled to one side. “I can’t read your mind, you know. You’re just sitting in the bath right now. I suppose you feel tired and you think the water is a nice temperature, but I can only get that if I’m deliberately reaching.”
That wasn’t as bad as Taral had feared. He lathered his hands with soap and gave his hair a vigorous scrubbing. “So if I sit here thinking about the size of your cock, you won’t know it?”
Sejun gave him a flat look, then smirked and twitched his robe out of the way to bare said cock, lying plump against his thigh. “I know it now.”