Page 65 of The Second Marriage
Sejun finished his bath. The door opened several times as servants came in, once to bring food but otherwise to bring messages to Taral and carry his responses away. Taral sat at the table to conduct this busy correspondence, reading and scribbling, and when Sejun at last rose from the tub he stood at Taral’s shoulder to see what he was so occupied with.
“I’m writing to Feba,” Taral said. “And Jaysha.” Then he looked up at Sejun, and Sejun could see the sudden spread of guilt all across his face and feel it through the bond as well.
“I see.” Sejun turned away to pull on a clean inner robe, his stomach tightening. He had only been in the cantonment for two days, but it seemed a year’s worth of events had transpired in his absence.
“Sejun. What is it you suspect me of doing?” Taral abandoned his half-written letter and came over to set his hand on Sejun’s shoulder. “I did seek Jaysha’s aid. I went alone to his room and begged him to intervene with Aditya on your behalf. I know I promised you I wouldn’t speak with him, and I did break that promise to you. But we did nothing more than speak.”
Sejun’s stomach felt even worse. He had worked so hard to master his jealousy, and now it threatened to master him. He swallowed down the swell of nausea that rose within him. “And did he aid you?”
“He did.” Taral sidled around until he could look Sejun in the face. “I know the bond tells you everything I feel. Do you still think I value Jaysha above you?”
Sejun didn’t reply. His mouth was too full of bitter words for him to speak anything else. Of course he thought Taral valued Jaysha above him. Taral had told him as much.
Taral was watching him closely. “Do you remember when we went to have dinner with Simra and Lavi? I realized that night that I love you, but it wasn’t until I spoke with Jaysha that I understood what I felt. I went to him without any thought aside from how he could help you, and I exchanged words with him for the first time in thirteen years and thought of nothing except when I might have you with me again.”
“You love me?” Sejun asked, his voice unsteady.
Taral took Sejun’s face in his hands. His expression brimmed with sympathy and warmth. “Oh, Sejun, I’ve fallen in love with you.”
Sejun’s throat was almost too tight to speak. He managed to squeak out, “Truly?”
Taral’s thumbs stroked Sejun’s cheeks. “I always meant to. It took me a bit of time, that’s all. But I know it was longer than you hoped for, and I’m sorry for that.”
“No, it wasn’t—it’s not that. I didn’t expect you to love me right away. We were strangers. I knew it would take time. It was that you were in love with someone else, someone—” Sejun stopped, then forced himself to say it. “Someone better than me. And I didn’t know how I would ever win you over withhimas my competition.”
“And yet here I am, thoroughly won.” Taral dropped his hands. “Sejun, he’s notbetterthan you. I’ve never thought that.”
Then Taral was a fool, but Sejun wouldn’t say that and start a quarrel. He sat on the edge of the bed, limp as the washrag he’d hung to dry over the side of the tub.
Into his bewildered heart came a murmur like the first hint of spring blowing from the north across the mountains. He had resigned himself to companionship without love, but love had come to him anyway: not the grandiose, sweeping, kingdom-breaking love he had dreamed of, but something even better, because it was real. Real and his: his wonderful Taral, who would grow old with him. Here was Taral smiling at him hopefully, the bond pouring his wishes into Sejun like water from a pitcher, his devotion and care, his excitement about their future. He was somber, staid, and tended toward priggishness, and Sejun found him wonderful in every regard. He wanted Taral to be proud of him, and to love him. And Taral did, it seemed, through some great gift of fortune, or the One God’s most fervent blessing.
Taral sat beside him and took Sejun’s hand. “I thought of you every moment you were in custody. The best part of my days here has been coming back to our room after my meetings are over and seeing you. You’ve brought me joy again after many years without it. I love you more than I know how to say.”
Sejun gripped his hand tight. His eyes were watering. His voice wavered as he said, “You truly love me?”
“Truly. I feel blessed to have you.”
“Will you love me ten years from now, when you’ve heard all my stories dozens of times?”
“I will,” Taral said. His voice didn’t waver at all.
“And twenty years from now, when our children are grown and we have to find spouses for them, and argue every day about making the offers?”
“I will,” Taral said.
“And thirty years from now, when we’re growing old and I complain about the aches in my back and knees?”
“I will,” Taral said, then smiled and said, “But you’ll hardly be old then. Only solidly middle-aged.”
Sejun ignored him. “Then I’ll love you in return. With my whole heart, every day of our lives, and thank the One God at every occasion that you accepted my offer.”
“My husband and bonded,” Taral said, and they held each other close, and perhaps shed a tear or two, but no one needed to know.
CHAPTER30
The negotiations paused for a few days while King Aditya arrested a number of high-ranking courtiers and the palace devolved into gossip both whispered and blatant. Taral was glad to have some unscheduled time to devote to Sejun, and he devoted himself as rigorously as he could manage. They lingered in bed every morning and had long, leisurely breakfasts with multiple pots of tea as Taral dealt with his correspondence and Sejun read or worked on the notes he had begun to assemble about their time in Chedi. The weather was sunny and mild and they strolled in the gardens every afternoon to enjoy the air. They went to no parties and declined every invitation for dinner. Taral wanted only to be with Sejun.
And, of course, to bewithSejun.