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Evemer was scrubbing down in his room with a cloth and the bucket of water and musing about how he really couldn’t allow himself to sleep in Kadou’s bed again, even if he were invited to do so, when the thought struck him like a bolt of lightning out of the blue, and he nearly sent the bucket toppling.
It was both a terrible shock and something he felt like he had known for a long time. His mind howled in unison bothWhat!andOh . . . yes, that makes sense.
He was in love with Kadou.
He dropped the cloth into the bucket and stared into space, turning that thought over and over in his head, examining every detail of it.
It wasn’t just the devotion of a kahya for his lord, compounded with common and uncomplicated desire. It wasn’t the same thing at all. Being willing to die for someone wasn’t the same as being in love with him. Being willing to follow him to the ends of the earth at a snap of his fingers wasn’t the same either.
There it was, a raw lightning-crash of truth.
He was in love with his lord.
He wasin love. With his lord. With Kadou.
Or perhapsatKadou would be a better phrasing. That was the roll of thunder on the heels of the lightning: Kadou could not return his feelings. Kadou would arrange for the annulment, and it seemed a strong possibility they might have some brief physical affair after that, but even that was something that would only be temporary. Zeliha would arrange arealmarriage for him sooner or later, and then Kadou would owe his loyalty and fidelity to some stranger, someone who didn’t know him like Evemer did, someone who had no idea of what they’d endured together.
And Evemer would stand just behind his lord’s shoulder for as long as his service was required, and he would say nothing and reveal nothing.
He leaned on the edges of the bucket with both hands and hung his head, looking down into the water. He couldn’t tell Kadou about any of this. His Highness would undoubtedly find it a burden—if somehow he returned even a faint ghost of Evemer’s feelings now, they would have to pull away from it later when Kadou vowed his heart to someone else. His Highness would find that painful, and he would know that it was painful for Evemer too—he’d see it plain, no matter how Evemer tried to hide it. With all Kadou’s kindness and care, he’d fret and worry . . . Perhaps he’d even convince himself that it was his fault and that he was the one who had caused Evemer’s pain.
And what if he didn’t return Evemer’s feelings, but thought that he ought to? What if he got some idea into his beautiful fool head about reciprocity?
Evemer’s heart ached, and for the first time in his life, he wondered if he was going to be able to survive this.
Probably not.
Chances were that it wouldn’t drive him to a literal death, but it was beyond a shadow of a doubt that the Evemer who endured that heartbreak and came out on the other side was going to be a different person than the one who sat here now, half-naked and dripping wet and miserable.
He’d have to be strong, to watch Kadou marry in truth. He’d have to be careful not to hate them, whoever they were, to not evenbeginhating them.
Evemer plunged his head into the bucket, the water gone cool but not shockingly so, and he held himself down until his lungs burned for air. He rose again, water and hair streaming into his face.
Depending on who Kadou married, there could be children. Evemer would have to be careful of them too, careful not to love them too hard—though he didn’t know how he could manage not to, if any of them had Kadou’s blue-black eyes. Which they would, because every Mahisti for nine generations had had those eyes, or so it was said.
Evemer dried off, rubbing as much of the water out of his hair as he could. He put on a clean uniform because now it didn’t feel right to wear anything else—the uniform marked him as Kadou’s. He left the bucket and the washcloth. Left his clothes on the floor too. He stood at the door of his room for what seemed like an eternity, his hand on the knob.
A few stray drips of cold water fell from his hair, ran down the back of his neck.
How had it come to this? After all his training and all his discipline, all he’d ever done to keep himself level and crisply squared-off at his corners. After everything, all these years, how had it come to this?
He leaned his head on the wall beside the door. It didn’t help. Made him feel weak.
Discipline, square corners—he straightened up, stiffened his shoulders. There was nothing for it but to endure, and obey, and serve with the same staunch dedication as always. Kadou had said he wouldn’t send Evemer away. He’d said Evemer had a place at his hearth and in his home for as long as he wanted.
He could keep a handle on the feelings in his heart. They were his own problem, not Kadou’s. He could take joy and honor in serving a lord he knew was honorable and worthy. He could be content with that.
More than content—it was only what he’d always wanted, his whole life.
Wasn’t it?
Was itnow?
He drifted back to Kadou’s chambers as if in a dream and let himself in. Kadou had left only two of the lamps lit—the one on the nightstand by his bed, the one on the low table in front of the divan in the middle of the room. He had thrown back a few of the curtains and opened one of the windows. He was leaning on the sill, craning to see something, though he turned when Evemer opened the door.
It was an exceptionally clear night, and the starlight was silvery on his dark hair, and the candlelight made his skin glow warm, and his eyes were bright and unafraid for the first time in days, and then he smiled like the sudden rise of the king-tide, and he was the most beautiful thing Evemer had seen in all his life, and probably the most beautiful thing he’d ever see.
This wasn’t going to end well. It couldn’t.
