Page 60 of The Second Marriage

He went back to his room first to see if he had received any word about Sejun, but there were no letters waiting for him. He washed his face and changed his robe, being careful to avoid any reflection about what he was doing. Anything he did to help Sejun would be justified by the result.

A servant came in to see if he wanted any dinner, the same woman who had escorted him to the cantonment the night before. “Later,” he said. “Thank you.” The woman bowed and moved to leave, and Taral said, “Wait—could you tell me where Prince Jaysha’s room is, please?”

Servants were lighting lamps along the corridors of the palace as he walked to his destination. There would be music and merriment tonight as there seemed to be every night, the courtiers enjoying their amusements as the country’s fate hung in the balance and Sejun was shut up in a cell somewhere. Taral tried not to fault them. Normal life went on everywhere, in all times, in every stage of war or grief. There was always a meal to prepare or a child to comfort. Or a party to attend.

Jaysha’s room was at the end of a hallway the lamp-lighters hadn’t yet reached. Through an arched window in the outer wall, the setting sun cast orange light on the door. Taral knocked, not nervous but filled with a cold, purposeful determination. He hadn’t exchanged one single word with Jaysha since the dissolution of their marriage, but he would break that silence now, without hesitation, for Sejun’s sake.

The door opened. Jaysha stood at the threshold, his face drawn and weary after the long day. His eyes took in Taral’s face, then dropped to his robe, then flicked to the empty corridor past Taral’s shoulder.

“Taral,” Jaysha said, and his voice sounded just the same.

“Forgive me,” Taral said. “I need your help.”

Jaysha’s room was as cluttered as his rooms in Barun had been, all those years ago. The table was strewn with stacks of papers, empty teacups, a writing set, an apple core, and three or four candle stubs. The bed was unmade, the pillow mashed up against the wall and indented from Jaysha’s head. Taral let the wave of fond nostalgia break over him and ebb again. He had once known Jaysha as well as anyone could know another person, but that was in the past. They had been strangers for a long time now.

“Well,” Jaysha said, gazing at the mess on the table, then shrugged. He motioned to one chair and sat in the other. “I heard the Chedai have your husband in custody.”

“You heard correctly.” Taral sat, and considered finishing a half-drunk cup of tea, even though it was surely cold. “Feba said he won’t be released and there’s nothing to be done about it.”

“And you disagree.” Jaysha sat with his hands in his lap, regarding Taral across the table. He looked older than he did in Taral’s memories. This close, Taral could see the lines at the corners of his eyes, the smile lines book-ending the corners of his mouth. “And you seek my assistance.”

“My Chedai is next to nonexistent, as you know, and I’m told King Aditya speaks no Dirang. I can’t approach him unaided.” Taral hesitated, then admitted, “And I have no influence here. Tadasho isn’t a powerful kingdom. I’m only in Banuri, let’s be honest, to serve as a warm body to pad out Feba’s numbers. I fear Aditya wouldn’t consider my plea to him even if I could speak it in his native tongue.”

Jaysha stared at the apple core. “You ask me to use my influence to have your husband released. Taral, he served as a messenger for traitors who seek to undermine and end Aditya’s rule. Even if he did it unknowingly, the king won’t see that as a minor offense.”

Jaysha knew more about the situation than Taral did, it seemed, and he wondered what private meetings he had been left out of. He was a liability now, his own allegiances in question. He looked down at his hands and said nothing.

Jaysha didn’t tell him to get out. They sat in silence for a minute. Then Jaysha said, “It’s bold of you to ask me to help the man who replaced me.”

Taral closed his eyes. He should have expected the blow, but he hadn’t braced for it, and Jaysha’s words knocked the breath out of him. “That isn’t,” he said, “what—that isn’t what happened. Forgive me.” He ran a hand over his face. “Please forgive me. You must know that all I wanted in life was to marry you.”

“I do know that. Taral.” Jaysha waited until Taral looked at him. “My words were spiteful. I’m sorry. You did nothing wrong, and I’ve never blamed you. And I don’t blame your Sejun, although I would like to.” His mouth pulled to one side, rueful. “And now you love him, it seems, so much that you can’t bear for him to molder in a cell for even one day.”

“I do love him,” Taral said, the first time he had admitted it even to himself. Because he did: of course he did, with Sejun so bright and joyful, the warm center of Taral’s life. Of course that was where his feelings had led him.

“Well,” Jaysha said. “There you have it.” He gazed at the mess on the table, his expression pensive. “Feba still thinks we’ll gain something from this time in Chedi. I’m no longer confident that she’s right. All the same, it’s hard to justify pressing Aditya on the matter when Sejun will be released soon enough. Patience, I think, may be the best strategy here.”

So Jaysha would turn him away as well. Taral held back every fierce protest that wanted to pour forth. He nodded without speaking and rose to his feet. He would come up with some other plan—perhaps Sejun’s acquaintances from Merek—

“Taral,” Jaysha said. He stood, too, and came around the side of the table. “I’m surprised you’re so distressed about this. He’ll be fine, I’m sure. The Chedai aren’t unreasonable, and they’ll only hold him as long as necessary.”

“There’s no way to know that,” Taral said, hearing his voice come out high and distressed. “For all you know, they’ll execute him. He’s my bonded.”

The words fell heavy between them. Jaysha glanced aside, his mouth tight. Taral felt he should apologize, but for what? He couldn’t protect Jaysha from a truth they both knew. A bond was more than a marriage, and Taral would find no peace until Sejun was with him once more.

Jaysha drew a breath. “I’ll send a message to Aditya. I can’t promise you anything.”

“I understand. Thank you. Jaysha.” Taral waited for Jaysha to look at him. “I’m very grateful.”

“I’m sure you are.” Jaysha watched him for a moment. His eyes searched Taral’s face and dropped to his mouth. “Taral…”

Taral backed away. He didn’t believe Jaysha would actually attempt to kiss him, but he couldn’t bear to even imagine it, when once it had been all he dreamed of. “Thank you. Please let me know what you hear.”

Jaysha said nothing more and made no effort to keep Taral from leaving. He walked out into the hallway with his pulse beating in his temples. He couldn’t identify what he felt, only knew that it heaved and churned inside him, vast as the sea he’d never seen.

He had held Jaysha in his heart for so long, but now he was scooped clean. Sejun, Sejun, his heart beat, and spread the sweet song of Sejun’s name all throughout his body.

CHAPTER28