I was fully composed by the time the carriage slowed to a stop and made as dignified a descent as my drunken and sex-addled body could muster.
“Many thanks,” I murmured, and stumbled past him to the door of my home.
I fumbled and dropped my keys.
“Might I help you, My Lord?”
The driver’s shadowy, moon-silvered face made me hesitate. The fire so recently quenched returned and flooded me with want. Would I never be allowed a moment of peace from my needs?
Familiar with swimming beneath the weight of fear and discovery, my response did not surprise me. “No.”
The driver, thus rebuked, bowed and retreated to his seat.
The carriage departed, and I was alone. I’d known ecstasy only moments before, but now standing on the empty street in front of my house, a vacant emptiness seized me. The faint creak of carriage wheels on the cobblestones lingered, then faded into nothing.
This is what awaits you, perverse creature, empty silence!
I shivered at this cruel thought before I went inside, though I did not stop shaking until sleep claimed me.
Chapter 3
The next day, I woke to find Sylvain pouring ale into two mugs and a plate of savory beef pasties set out on the kitchen table awaiting us for breakfast.
“You must have had quite the night,” my brother remarked, and placed a mug before me without spilling a drop.
My throat cried out with thirst and I reached for the mug. “For once, I’ll agree.” I answered before bringing the mug to my mouth and drinking. Once I’d drunk my fill, I put the mug down and took a beef pasty from the plate before me. “We celebrated Duir’s pending coronation, and I drank among the savages he calls friends.”
“Aye, but you are no stranger to the savage lands of Duir’s palace. You played with many of his consorts from childhood. You know well the vices in which they partake.”
“Agreed again,” I answered over a mouthful of the pasty.
How opposite Sylvain and I were, I thought as he sat opposite me to eat. Slim, graceful certainty blended with nimble strength belied his disability. He wore his hair to his shoulders and allowed his golden brown beard to grow full. Women favored his sensitivities, their eyes lingered over his sun darkened skin, and clasped at his work calloused hands with hopeful, trembling fingers. Sylvain knew the pleasures of women but hadn’t yet found love. In this, my brother and I were the same. I wished him to find someone to love and would show him love in return, but wondered if it would ever be possible. I never saw his blindness as weakness, but many did, and popular prejudice was something neither of us could ever hope to completely crush.
I, on the other hand, received the gift of my father’s sturdy and powerful frame. I lacked the grace Sylvain inherited from our mother. Mine was not the body one thinks of when they think of a tailor, but this opposition of type makes tongues wag, piques curiosity and leads to opportunity. I wear my hair short and my dark beard is trimmed. A strong jaw, a fine nose, and a mouth quick to expression has rendered the occasional “handsome” comment, but I doubt the sincerity of such compliments. Sylvain says it is this lack of pretense that people find attractive in me. I smile often and find people smile back. Unlike my brother, my pleasure remains solitary, and aside from clumsy kisses, virginal.
I was glad of Sylvain’s interruption upon these thoughts.
“And how is our imminent monarch?”
I sighed and shook my head. “As can be expected, drunk and fucking like a street dog. But his mood is lifted, and seems more himself.”
“He knows nothing aside from whores and ale. I wonder how we shall all fair at his drunken hands.”
“You speak strongly this morning, Sylvain. You know Duir as I know him. If not better because you know him from afar, and through lack of sight render him clearer than I who love him as a second brother.”
“You know him but hide behind your loyalty to him and our father’s allegiance to the throne. If you were not as talented a tailor as you are, nay, if you were not our father’s son, he would look at you as he looks at me.”
“So it is true, I am loyal. But his royal coin will see me through the future and keep our family alive and fed. I don’t begrudge Duir his foolishness. He will be as good a ruler as Killian!” I finished by raising my mug in a mock salute.
Sylvain appeared doubtful. “I hope you are right.” He stood and started clearing away the plates.
“Leave them, let me do it. You were kind enough to ready the meal. Let me clean it.”
Sylvain ignored my offer and made his way to the stone sink opposite the eating table.
His ability to move about, often without the aid of stick amazed me. I’d asked him once how he managed.
“My mind is like the worn paths of the woods, and my memory like the tread upon them. I know every edge and corner of this house. While I would be a fool to leave its walls without my stick, I find my senses and instincts rarely betray me.”
My eyes rested on the stick propped against the wall opposite the front door.
“Are you sure I cannot help you?”
“No, I am nearly finished.”
Rebuffed, I relaxed and tried to gather my thoughts. It was then I remembered Auberon.
“I have news of a wedding!”
Sylvain dumped a bucket of washing water onto the plates in the sink. “A wedding and a coronation? Has Duir begotten a son with a scullery maid?”
I sat, amused at Sylvain’s continued venom. “No, it is not Duir, but I’m sure you could guess.”
“I hate guessing as well, you know. Tell a poor blind man, or I’ll worry all day while tending Lady Yarrow’s sheep.” His tone only mildly interested.
Lady Yarrow was a woman of some means who sought
