Page 46 of The Second Marriage
The music swelled and then stopped, more abruptly than Sejun expected it to. Everyone around him came to a halt. As he stood panting, the small of his back damp with sweat, he caught sight of a face he recognized.
His stomach plummeted toward his feet. It was Jaysha, dressed in a robe of striped gold and violet and looking handsome as a painting of an ancient king.
Seun tried to turn away and pretend he hadn’t seen Jaysha standing there talking with two Chedai women, but it was too late: their eyes met. Sejun cursed silently. He was sure Jaysha knew who he was, and good manners dictated that he go speak to the man. But what did he care for manners? He could pretend he’d developed a sudden headache and leave the party without speaking to anyone at all.
Jaysha inclined his head to Sejun and looked away. Sejun gritted his teeth, berated himself at great length, and said to his dance partner, “You’ll have to excuse me.”
As Sejun approached, he saw that Jaysha had gone back to speaking with the Chedai courtiers. Sejun faced the prospect of either interrupting the conversation or standing aside awkwardly waiting for Jaysha’s attention. He liked neither option and wished he had chosen rudeness and kept to his dancing. Too late for that now. Jaysha glanced at him over the shoulder of the nearest woman, and his eyebrows gave a little twitch, a careful diplomat’s surprise.
“Lord Sejun,” Jaysha said, and bowed with his hands clasped.
Sejun bowed in turn, and then to each of the women, who had turned to look at him with inscrutable expressions. Mortification squirmed in Sejun’s gut. He had meant to do the correct, mature thing, but he saw now that he should have waited until he could get Jaysha alone. This public spectacle did no one any good.
“Forgive my interruption,” he said. “I was surprised to see a compatriot at this party.”
Jaysha gestured to the shorter of the two women. “Lady Ketaki invited me. I like to dance and welcome the opportunity to meet some of our Chedai friends.”
He was so smooth. Sejun hated him, and hated himself for being swayed by petty jealousy. He could imagine Taral’s displeasure if Taral ever learned of his ungracious thoughts. He mustered a smile and said, “And a lovely evening for dancing it is. I’ll leave you to your enjoyment.”
The women’s expressions didn’t change as he bowed again. He walked off with his cheeks burning. Well, so he had humiliated himself; it wasn’t the first time and wouldn’t be the last.
He scanned the crowd for a servant. He needed some more wine.
“Lord Sejun,” he heard from behind him, and turned to see Jaysha coming after him, striding through the crowd. “Lord Sejun, I beg your pardon.” Jaysha stopped before him and dipped a slight bow. “I have something I feel I must say to you. Forgive me for raising an unpleasant subject in such a blunt manner.”
Sejun stiffened his spine to brace himself for the blow. “I’m at your disposal, Your Highness.”
Jaysha ran a hand over his head, a signal of discomfiture that didn’t at all fit with Sejun’s mental image of him. “Forgive me. I know we haven’t spoken before now. But I want you to know that I bear no ill will toward you. What transpired between Taral and me happened many years ago, and I don’t resent you for your successful marriage. I don’t want you to feel that you need to avoid me.”
Sejun blinked. He hadn’t expected that at all. He had never once considered that Jaysha might be jealous ofhim.
“I’m sorry to impose,” Jaysha said when Sejun didn’t reply.
“No—please, I was only surprised. You have nothing to apologize for.” Sejun swallowed. What was the appropriate thing to say next? None of his options seemed good. “I appreciate your candor. The situation is unfortunate. I’ve hoped to avoid offending you in any way.”
“You haven’t. Please don’t trouble yourself.” Jaysha glanced around, then spoke again in Teirang, the native tongue of Tadasho, which Sejun was surprised he knew. “You’re searching for separatists?”
Sejun nodded. “Yes, but how can I know who they are? If only they would wear a distinctive brooch, or whisper to each other in a suspicious manner. That’s why you’re here as well?”
“Yes. But no luck for me either, as you say.” Jaysha hesitated, then said, “I hope Taral is well.”
Sejun bit back a furious reply that Taral was none of Jaysha’s concern. He wished the two of them would forget about each other, but it seemed they were still intent on pining away and leaving Sejun to play the role of villain in their tragic failed romance. He gritted his teeth. “He’s well. Thank you for your concern.”
“Well.” Jaysha drew a breath, then seemed to reconsider whatever he had been about to say and only bowed to Sejun before turning and walking off.
Wine. Sejun needed wine.
* * *
Taral woketo the sound of the door clicking shut. His nose told him it was only Sejun returning from his party. He lay with his eyes closed and listened to Sejun moving around in the dark, swearing quietly when he ran into some item of furniture. When he heard a second bump followed by an even more offensive curse, he said, “I’m awake, Sejun.”
“Oh.” Some fumbling noises ensued, and then the room filled with soft light as Sejun lit a candle.
Taral saw at once that he was drunk, and sat up in bed, frowning; he had never seen Sejun more than mildly inebriated. The Chedai wine was strong, it was true. “Are you well? Is the party over?”
“No. They were still dancing. The Chedai don’t sleep, it seems.” Sejun took a few unsteady steps and sat down on the edge of the bed. “I drank too much wine. I don’t even like it.”
Taral scooted closer and adjusted the collar of Sejun’s robe. The fabric was damp with sweat, and Sejun’s hair stuck to his forehead in thin strands. “There’s water in the pitcher.”