Seth Semira’s office was located near the City Guard headquarters, deep in the knights’ training compound. Unlike Ged, the High Lord’s second son preferred to stay outside the palace walls. Jacen had paid attention after they’d stopped speaking and knew Seth had a habit of sleeping in his office.
He found the door ajar and slowed in his tracks. He could still turn back, avoid this?—
“Jace?”
He winced and turned around.
Seth Semira stood down the hall, frozen, wearing an expression somewhere between shock and outrage. He was shorter than Jacen, smartly dressed and handsome with thick, tousled dark hair and an aquiline nose.
Though Seth had been knighted and remained an obscenely talented swordsman, he had proven an abysmal officer of the Guard, prone to questioning anything that sounded like an order. He’d lasted one year in the field before his quiet reassignment to the Citadel, where he oversaw the training of new knight candidates. His rank ofCaptainwas mostly decorative. At thirty, he was broad-shouldered and solid, getting stout in a way that made him resemble his father.
He’d always had a glare that could cut through steel.
Once Jacen regained the ability to speak, he managed, “Good morning.”
Seth seized him by the arm and steered him into his office. Sure enough, an unmade cot sat behind the desk. Miniature potted cacti lined a high, narrow window, and a familiar black cat slept atop a pile of parchment.
“It’s good to see you,” Jacen tried again, but no sooner had Seth shut the door than his fist slammed into Jacen’s jaw.
The room swam. It took Jacen several moments to refocus. He ought to have seen that coming, and not only because he was a telepath.
“Right,” he said at last, between breaths. His face throbbed. Seth could hit much harder, but this would leave a bruise. “I deserved that.” “Three and a half years,” Seth shouted at him. “My mother died. My sister-in-law died. I caught the plague andInearly died. I got engaged. You were there for none of it, without so much as an excuse or apology. The last time we spoke, you called me an ‘injudicious drain on society’.”He struggled to compose himself. “And now you say it’sgood
to see me?What’s wrong with you?”
Had it actually been so long? The days blended together. Jacen
averted his gaze. He half-expected Seth to hit him again, but he only said, “This had better be good.”
“We need to talk,” Jacen said. “If anyone asks, you felt guilty about missing yesterday’s offering, and you requested a priest for confession.”
“Everyone in the Citadel knows I haven’t attended an offering since I was young enough to be physically dragged there,” said Seth.
Seth’s dislike for anyone telling him what to do extended to the gods—he had that in common with Ged—and this had long been a point of contention between them. Jacen suppressed a surge of exasperation. “Tell them you had a change of heart. Or tell them you needed a—a friend.”
“A friend?” Seth threw his arms in the air. “Brother Kheris has
friends? I thought he was too holy for that.”
“Point taken.” Jacen held up a hand. “Enough. Please.”
But the circumstances of their last meeting hadn’t been quite so one-sidedly terrible. Before he could think better of it, he let his frustration speak for him. “I said some inexcusable things. I know. Butyou—” He lowered his voice, half-expecting Mother Akkani to appear behind him as he said, “You kissed me. You know full well what vows I’ve sworn. Did you ever stop to consider that what might have meant nothing to you would mean risking everything for me?”
He left unsaidI was in love with you.Of course he’d distanced himself. Being face-to-face with Seth again was almost more than he could stand.
Jacen wasn’t stupid; he knew Seth cared about him, too—or, at least, hehad.But while Seth was free to dally about with whomever he pleased, it would always be different for a Priest of the Black Sun.
“Do you really think it meant nothing to me?” Seth said quietly. “I—” Jacen needed to stop talking before he made this worse. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
Seth’s concern brushed across the surface of his mind. “You look terrible.”
Jacen let out a short, harsh laugh. “Are you drunk?”
Jacen winced again. “Not at the moment.”
“I shouldn’t have hit you,” Seth conceded. “But . . . I’ve been trying to apologize, Jace. I sent you a handwritten invitation to my betrothal ceremony, because I hoped you’d at least have the courtesy to respond.”
“We both know the fastest way to ruin a social function is to invite a priest.” Jacen gave a poor attempt at a smile. “And you don’t even like Saraida.”
