Caesura - 5. Chapter 5

Finding completion in their mate was the ultimate goal for every Seraei. To cut an existing bond deliberately was unthinkable. Still, there had been rare cases of estrangement that resulted in a separation, but on all the planets they ever settled, it had never been someone who needed the balance of more than one soul, let alone the king. Thinking of how complicated a king’s mating was, and how long Diarmad had waited for Noël, only to throw it all away, was unimaginable to Landyn. But it was about to happen.

“The sooner Noël gets used to the finality of my decision the better.” Diarmad’s callous response to Landyn’s suggestion on meeting on neutral ground rather than the penthouse, had only confirmed the wrongness of the situation. When the King reacted with indifference rather than reprimand to Laird’s parting remark that he would be looking forward to watching the whelp scoot with his tail tugged between his legs, Landyn knew it was over. Who said: Indifference is the epitome of evil. It was worse than hatred, because there were no emotions left. Not even hate.

Landyn had never been happier knowing he could go home afterward. Now that Ronan was back and had taken over guarding the king, Simon and he had moved out, not only to have their own space, but also as a statement. They were taking sides—Noël’s side.

Landyn was waiting for Noël outside the dorms. Students gave him a wide berth, instinctively recognizing danger in the vibes of a tightly coiled spring that could snap at any moment. Every sudden noise, every loud argument, even laughter made the man tense up more.

Today the King would officially announce the separation from his mate—something unheard of among the Seraei.

The glass door opened again, this time it was Noël, and Landyn grinned for the first time in days. When to appear in front of the council and king, one had to wear appropriate clothes: a suit, or at least nice pants, and a dress shirt. Noël’s blue jeans were definitely nice: soft from frequent washing, they hugged his lean body in all the right places. The unlaced work boots were scuffed, but clean, and the teal-colored hoodie with the university’s logo brought out his stunning blue-green eyes just fine. To Landyn’s knowledge, the hoodie was Kris’. A fact that Diarmad would smell the moment Noël entered the room.

When Noël stood before him, Landyn wrapped his arms around him and squeezed tightly. “How are you feeling?”

Noël smiled weakly. “Like shit. I think I’m going to throw up on your pretty shoes.”

“You better not. They are vintage; no one makes shoes like these anymore.” It was a lame joke, which resulted in both of them staring at Landyn’s feet until Noël muttered a quiet Fuck!

He was trembling. “I’m so pissed, so furious. It feels like someone is about to rip my fucking heart out while I’m still alive, I’m so sad. And there is also this small tendril of hope that doesn’t go away, which makes me even angrier.” He took in a shuddering breath. “I don’t know how to do this, Landyn. How do you say goodbye to your other half?”

Landyn pressed his flat palm against Noël’s temple. His skin felt clammy and cold, his whole body was shaking. “Close your eyes and take in deep, regular breaths with me…in-out. Yes, perfect. Do it again…in-out…and again…” They stood like this for long moments in the middle of the campus, not caring who saw them until slowly, Noël calmed down and stepped back, letting Landyn’s hand slide down to his shoulder.

“Better?”

Noël nodded. “Yeah… thank you.” He smiled warily. “You should bottle these calming powers of yours and sell them, better than any benzodiazepine.”

“Speaking of powers…” Landyn scanned their surroundings. “How is your focus? It wouldn’t go over well with the council, if you accidentally barged into people’s minds again.”

“I’m good,” Noël whispered back. “I’ve been training with the head telepath, and I don’t think that will happen again. Not that they’d notice.” He bit his lips. “I might be tempted to accidentally throw vases or flower pots, though.”

“Accidentally, huh?” Then Landyn frowned. “What did you mean by ‘they wouldn’t notice’?” Only the most gifted telepaths could bypass mind shields and barriers of adult Seraei without being detected. Those who could were called leganton. To warn others, they had a small blue triangle tattooed on their forehead and wore a necklace with a stone of similar color, which glowed when they used their gift.

In answer, Noël tugged at the collar of his hoodie and showed Landyn a black leather band with an embedded blue stone. “I have an appointment with the clan tattooist on Friday.”

“What?!” Landyn grabbed Noël’s shoulder and spun him around. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this?”

Noël just shrugged nonchalantly. “I just did.”

“Noël! This is nothing to be flippant about! We only have one leganton on this continent, one lives in Japan, and the other is hidden.”

“Two on this continent now. Obviously, I passed the test.”

“Shit!” Landyn looked at the distance, unseeingly. Finally, he asked, “Do you think Diarmad knows?”

“I’m sure Cieran or the head telepath already informed him.”

“Did you ever—”

“What?”

“…try to scan Diarmad? Find out what has gotten into him?”

“What has gotten into him is that he realized he made a mistake by bonding himself to me.” Noël pressed his lips into a thin line. “Still, I would never betray Diarmad like that. Never mind the fact I already took the oath not to read someone unless in self-defense or when sanctioned by a court or king.”

“Of course. I’m sorry, Noël. It’s just...”

“Tempting.”

“Yeah.” They walked in mutual silence for a while until Landyn said, “Keith is looking forward to seeing you. And just as a fair warning: He’s been cooking for days, making all your favorite food.”

Noël shook his head. “I can’t accept—”

“Good luck with explaining that to him. Keith thinks you’re not getting what you’re entitled to. Murmured something about junk food, noisy and smelly rooms not being the environment the king’s mate needs to study properly, while cutting vegetables and stirring pots and pans.” Landyn laughed. “I bet he has already packed a picnic basket for you to take home after the meeting.”

“He’s a certified mother hen, that’s what he is.” Noël smiled. “It’s not so bad. I like the dorms. Kris’ friends are nice and the food is…okay.”

They had reached their destination, and Landyn held the door to Noël’s former home open for him. “Keith likes you, Noël, but he can’t just tell the King off and move out like Simon and me. The cooking is his way to show you he cares, that he is not happy with Diarmad—or Laird.”

“Yeah I know and I appreciate what he’s doing, believe me.” While they waited for the elevator, Noël shoved the sleeves of his hoodie up to his elbows, only to tug them down again immediately. “I just…I don’t want him getting into trouble because of me.”

Landyn called ahead as soon as the elevator started moving, telling Keith they were on the way, which was why the man was waiting for them when the door opened.

“My Lord!” He beamed at them. “It’s so good to see you again!”

Noël lifted his left eyebrow and looked sternly at him. “Keith, what did I tell you about calling me ‘my Lord’?” But then he smiled, showing him he wasn’t really upset.

“It’s my way to show you the respect you deserve, my Lord. You are the King’s mate.” Keith flattened his lips as if he wanted to say more but then thought the better of it.

“Thank you, Keith. I appreciate your support.” Noël bowed his head briefly. Landyn winked at him before he squeezed his shoulder, and they followed the butler through the hall to the living room, and the unobstructed view on campus. The grand piano was gone. A large, black leather loveseat stood in its place.

Noël was still staring at the stuffed monstrosity, when someone sidled up beside him. Hot breath wafted over his left ear, as the man leaned close. “Lovely, isn’t it? And so great to fuck on…much more comfortable than the bloody piano, let me tell you.”

Noël cringed as if something was crawling on his skin. It was obvious he wanted to step away, but he didn’t. Instead, he turned to find a man looking to be in his mid-thirties staring down at him with pale, blue eyes. The strong, squared jaw and the cleft in his chin were similar to Landyn’s which confirmed that this was indeed Laird. The short, dirty blond hair was combed back out of his face, he had… a moustache and a goatee. Noël seemed hard-pressed not to snort.

Oblivious, Laird smirked. “Like what you see?”

Noël gave the rest of the man a slow once-over: Tight black jeans, a short-sleeved button-down shirt of the same color showing off impressive muscles, some tatts. “I can definitely see the appeal,” he agreed. “If all you can think of when looking at a piano is a flat surface to fuck on.”

At the exact moment Laird understood the not-so-hidden insult, the door behind them opened to Diarmad. “Noël, Landyn. Please come inside, the meeting is about to begin.”

When they passed the King, Landyn noticed that Diarmad sniffed the air, and he smiled broadly when he heard a low growl. Then, because he knew Noël would never ask, he whispered, “What did you do with his piano?”

Diarmad shrugged. “I sold it. I have no further use for it, and it was taking up space.”

The callous answer wiped the smile of Landyn’s face. “I see.”

Noël’s posture stiffened. Diarmad knew exactly how much the piano meant to him. It was obvious he wanted to show him how over they were…nothing left to save…as if he didn’t know that already.

Ten pairs of eyes were fixed on them as they approached. Then, as if there had been a silent signal, chairs scraped over the hardwood floor as everyone stood up and bowed at the same time Cieran O’Connor said, “Welcome, Lord Noël.”
Hands gripping around the lavishly carved back of his throne-like chair, Noël gave a short bow himself before he sat down quickly with Landyn taking up a guarding position behind him. The council members followed his cue, no one waited for the King to take his seat first.

Diarmad stood at the end of the table, silently waiting for everyone to calm down and acknowledge him, before he started to speak. “Following the rules of our law, I am standing here before you today to declare separation from my mate Noël Carmichael.” His voice was firm and sure, and even though the council members probably had heard rumors and therefore had been at least guessing the purpose of the meeting, some couldn’t suppress gasps at Diarmad’s formal declaration. They immediately looked at Noël, gauging his reaction to Diarmad’s words. In return, Noël calmly locked gazes with every single man and woman at the table.

Then, Diarmad’s voice brought their attention back to him. “These words are all the law requires from me, but I will provide further explanations.” For a brief moment, Diarmad’s eyes lost their focus. “Fate made me wait too long for my third and final mate. I became weak. This…debility encouraged my rivals and unrest arose among our people. Friends and allies were attacked. My most trusted confidante Eleanora, died while she protected her grandson, my future mate, whom I had finally found eighteen years ago.” The King took in a deep breath, briefly rubbing a spot over his heart.

“I was among the first of the Seraei who stepped foot on this planet. I lived the lifespan of hundreds of humans during large parts of this world’s history; I saw cities rise and fall, observed breakthrough discoveries, wars, and plagues. I am old.” He nodded at his mate. “And here is Noël. Even though his soul merged with Luis’ and Tristan’s, Noël is still startlingly young. He has the exuberance of a nineteen year old, as well as the curiosity, the naïveté, and the temper.” Diarmad smiled. “Noël was the beacon in the midst of chaos—smart, strong, brave, handsome—but above all, he gave me back what I craved most: balance. Which is why I thought I could learn to see the world with new eyes—Noël‘s eyes.” After that, Diarmad fell silent. Just when Cieran rose to speak, though, the King lifted his hand. “I am almost done.

“During the last year, I realized I needed more. I needed a partner who challenged me, and by challenged, I do not mean by testing my patience with silly antics and shenanigans, but who can truly be my equal, sexually and intellectually.”

Finally, Rowan, a redhead with striking green eyes and a diamond stud in his ear, lifted his hand. Noël worked with him at the music and art center, and they had become good friends. “This sounds as if you never truly loved Noël. How could you pass the joining ritual?”

“Because our sacred joining ritual was flawed. It took what I believed I would feel, for real. It took infatuation and gratitude for love.”

When several council members protested, Diarmad raised his voice, speaking over their objections. “There is no other explanation for how I feel now. Real love conquers all, what Noël and I had did not.

“This is neither Noël’s fault, nor is it mine. It is just how it is. In time, we might be able to be friends again, but never partners. Therefore, I am asking the council to acknowledge this separation.” Diarmad sat down and expectantly looked at each council member.

Cieran O’Connor cleared his throat before he nodded at Noël. “What does the king’s mate have to say to this?”

Diarmad scowled in irritation, but Cieran ignored him. Even though the council leader must have known it was enough that one partner demanded the termination of the contract, he seemed to think that, as the king’s mate, Noël had the right to comment if he wanted to. It was within his rights to grant him this.

At first it looked as if Noël did not want to state anything further, but then he slowly rose from his chair. He looked at the council and gave Cieran a short bow. He knew that he had to thank him for this chance. “When I first learned what would happen today—that my mate would ask the council to be officially separated from me, it was also the first time I ever heard that separation even existed among the Seraei.” He turned to Diarmad. “After all, I was told Seraei mated for life.” He swallowed. “It was then explained to me that it is indeed a very rare occurrence, but nevertheless, it happens. Obviously, it is enough that only one mate asks for it. I was furious upon hearing this and decided to speak here, in front of all of you, whether I’d be allowed to or not. Thankfully, Cieran O’Connor made this break of protocol unnecessary.” Noël smiled at the man. “I was about to state that I disagree with my mate; there is love at least on my part, and where there is love there is hope, is there not? I was determined to fight for this love.” His voice broke when he said love, and Landyn placed his hand on Noël’s shoulder, silently supporting him. “I am not doing this anymore. I realized today that there is nothing there worth fighting for. So, although it’s not required, I hereby say that I fully agree with the separation. Thank you.” Landyn’s hand lay on his shoulder reassuringly.

Cieran O’Connor cleared his throat several times, his eyes glistened with unshed tears. He looked at every council member and received short nods. After that, he rose from his chair. “The council concurs and validates the separation of King Diarmad and his mate Noël.” He lifted a black orb and with a heavy thud, hit it against a small stone plate sitting on the table in front of him. Then he looked up. “Personally, I’m very sad about this development. I had much hope for this union and not only because it benefitted our people. I thought I saw love, and I wasn’t the only one. Some things are worth working at, even fighting for.” He sat back down.
“The approximate modalities should be brokered at the earliest date possible to give the parties the chance to leave this unpleasant part of their lives behind as soon as they can.” The council leader turned at the man still standing behind Noël like the sentinel he was. “Landyn, I believe as Noël’s friends and family, you or Simon should be present during those negotiations.”

“Of course, Cieran, we both have every intention of being there,” Landyn agreed.

“Good. If there isn’t anything else urgent right now, I’d like to postpone the other topics until the next meeting in two weeks. Thank you.”

Indifference, to me, is the epitome of evil. (Elie Wiesel US News & World Report; 27 October 1986)