Caesura - 12. Chapter 12

The moment Diarmad opened his eyes, it felt as if the light singed the inside of his skull. Quickly, he averted his face from the window as nausea roiled his stomach. He only dared look around when the menacing pulsar in his head calmed down. A presence had touched his mind. His heartbeat quickened. Who is there? Squinting at an undefined, grey blob to his left, he blinked a few times. Finally the blurry shadow switched into focus: Ronan was sitting in a chair in front of the door looking grim—a sword across his thighs.

“Ronan,” Diarmad whispered, then tried unsuccessfully to sit up.

As soon as his chief of security heard his name, he looked up, then jumped out the chair and rushed over. "You’re awake! How are you feeling, my lord?"

Without thinking, he blurted out the first word that came to mind. “Weak.”

Ronan stood beside his bed smiling tentatively down at him, but Diarmad only had eyes for the gleaming weapon the man had yet to put down. Then suddenly, something red seemed to drip from its blade. Shocked by the obvious mirage, he recoiled. Vague images of a Verdonian version of King Migol’s daughter Misa floated through his muddled brain. Concentrate. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. Now, everything smelled of blood. On a whim, his hand went to his neck, where he found several thin, ragged lines, still slightly sore to the touch. Noël fought with this sword! Diarmad’s throat closed up; his tongue too thick to form more words than the much needed: “Noël?”

"He is fine, my lord,” Ronan quickly assured him. He grabbed a glass of water and held the bent straw near Diarmad’s mouth. “He would be here by your side if Landyn had not ordered him down to the kitchen. The boy needed food and something to drink before he could give you any more blood."

Diarmad quickly swallowed some of the water. “More blood?”

“You’re still low, my lord. This and the remnants of Misa’s poison, which is still circulating through your system, are the reasons you are feeling this weak and your wounds are not fully healed yet.”

The words that stood out were ‘Misa’ and ‘poison’. “It was not a dream? She is really here?” He tried to get up again.

“Not any more, my lord. She is dead.” Ronan set the glass down on the nightstand and then proceeded to help Diarmad sit up by quickly placing pillows behind his back, so he could lean against the headboard more comfortably. “Do you remember anything of what happened? That Misa and her mate tried to assassinate you?”

“Misa tried to assassinate me?” Diarmad frowned. That sounded wrong somehow.

“And she almost succeeded!”

No. Slowly the fog in his brain lifted. Misa had not tried to kill him. Not at first, at least. That had been a misunderstanding, an accident. What Ronan did not know was her plan had been much more perfidious. Or did he know? Diarmad warily eyed the sword now laying by his feet on top of the comforter. Not Ronan.

“Why is Noël here?”

“He saved your life! After Misa ripped your throat open, the wound wouldn’t close. The only cure we could think of was your mate’s blood!”

“A grave mistake,” Diarmad croaked, then paused to take a few quick sips of water. “How could you be so reckless? And Landyn! He should have never brought him here and exposed him to such a dangerous situation.”

“There was no other way! Noël was the only one who could help you. You were threatening to bleed to death! What do you think he or Landyn would have done to me if I hadn’t called him?”

“Would they have even cared?”

"What? Are you honestly doubting their loyalty? You believe they wish for your death?”

He shook his head. Deep down, he knew that Landyn was an honorable man who would stand by his king if needed, no matter what he thought about him personally. And Noël?

Diarmad needed to quickly decide whom he could still trust. He knew Misa had had an accomplice, a person close to him who had been under her mental influence. Now that she was dead, they shouldn’t be an immediate threat anymore. But could he dare investigate by himself? Or should he talk to Ronan, even if the man could be the traitor? Maybe if he observed him while he explained Misa’s plan he could detect a reaction that would reveal him as the betrayer or prove his innocence.

Then he remembered an ancient ritual. In old times, they used to perform tests on all close employees. Arrogantly, he had thought he would not need those anymore. How had he been proved wrong! Even loyal people could be manipulated to betray him. Even he had been manipulated.

“Ronan, before we talk anymore I have to ask you for the Provoj de Lealtad,” he stated, and with great effort, swung his legs around so he could sit on the edge of the bed, and took the sword in hand.

“The loyalty test, my lord? But why? I would never....”

“Ronan!”

“Of course, of course. Forgive me,” he quickly conceded.

“Kneel!” Diarmad poised the sword tip at Ronan’s neck. “Lower your mental barriers.” To emphasize his resolve, he pressed down shakily until he drew blood. “I warn you. I may still be weak, but if I find one single shield still up, I will end you.” It was a cruel demand to expose one’s complete self to their King, which was why Diarmad had not enforced this until then, but after what had happened, he had to be absolutely certain of his chief of security. To his great relief, Ronan dropped one shield after the other without hesitation.

“I will scan you now.”

“Acknowledged.”

Reluctantly, he sifted through Ronan’s mind and found him innocent.

Now he confessed the sordid details of his failure as king, as protector of his people, as mate, and as lover, regardless of how bad he looked.

“That conniving bitch!” Ronan suddenly kicked one of the chairs half through the room, then he fell on his knees. “My king. I failed you. I should have protected you better. It explains so much. Gods! We just accepted your strange moods, but never considered an attack. You never had a chance. Can you forgive me?”

To Diarmad’s utter astonishment, Ronan didn’t see his king as a failure, but a victim. On top of that, he blamed himself for the disaster. He didn’t understand the embarrassment, the disgrace Diarmad felt, but insisted on his fault and immediately wanted inform the council, Landyn, and more importantly, Noël of Misa’s plot. And for a short moment, Diarmad was tempted and almost agreed. He only had to tell Noël about the drug, the betrayal, and everything could be well again—it had not been his fault. Right? Wrong!

With the drug mostly flushed out of his system by Noël’s blood, Diarmad was glad that he was finally able to think clearly again. His mind felt blessedly balanced, and he realized he had to forbid Ronan to disclose what he had just revealed. “You will not talk about this. Let them think it had been a failed, albeit amateurish, assassination attempt.”

"But my lord, we have to find the conspirer. They are still a threat to you. We can now combine forces with Landyn’s men and quickly expose them." He hesitated briefly. "And I think you should especially talk to Noël. If he learned the details about this conspiracy, he would definitely reconsider—"

"No! That is exactly what I want to avoid. I will not destroy Noël‘s life again. All we will tell the others is that Misa wanted to overthrow me and become queen of Earth, nothing more. I do agree with you that we have to find who helped Misa so that no one else will ever find out about her plan. Ronan, I know I am repeating myself, but you have to promise me never to tell anybody about this, not even your mate. Noël must never know of this. Swear it."

In the end, Diarmad simply let Ronan swear on everything that was dear to him never to tell anyone.

Noël had found a new love, and deep in Diarmad’s heart, he knew Kristof loved Noël, probably more than Diarmad ever had, seeing how readily he had doubted him. Kris was good for him; he adored him, and most of all, he would never betray him as Diarmad had. He had forfeited his right to call Noël mate after everything he did.

"You're my king, I do as you command.” Determined, Ronan looked Diarmad in the eye. “I promise this will be the last time I will ever say this... I think you're making a mistake. I've seen Noël today, how he looked at you. He—”

Ronan stopped mid-word when Noël entered the room, followed by Landyn. "Diarmad! How are you?" He came over, grabbed Diarmad’s chin, and turned his head to look at his neck. Running a cool finger over the spot where the wound had been, he muttered, "There are only some fine red lines left. Shit, you could have bled to death! I didn't know that was even possible.”

Only when he noticed everyone in the room was staring at him, he flushed red and quickly stepped back. “Landyn took a sample from her talons. We will analyze the substance she used so we can look for countermeasures. Something that can prevent a Seraei king from healing must be some strong concoction. The wound only closed when Landyn washed it out and I dripped some of my blood on it."

All he wanted at that moment was to reassure his mate so, without thinking about it, Diarmad took Noël‘s hand. "I am much better. I should probably stay in bed until tomorrow, but then I will be fine. Thank you for coming for me, lo... Noël."

"After Landyn dragged me out of class, he broke every speed limit on the way here. It’s a miracle we weren’t pulled over by the police.” He shoved the sleeve of his shirt over his elbow and presented his wrist to Diarmad. “You will need more blood to be able to fully recover."

For a long moment Diarmad stared at the blue vein pulsing with Noël‘s heartbeats; the only blood he was able to ingest as long as he lived was calling to him, and then he shook his head. "No, I am fine. I think I will manage—”

"I call bullshit when I hear it! Anyone can see you can barely stand upright. You need more blood, so shut up and drink. And before you get anymore great ideas, I’ll stay in the house and you will drink more in the evening and tomorrow morning." He looked at Diarmad, silently daring him to object. Diarmad didn't. He knew Noël was right, even lying in bed he had felt dizzy and exhausted.

In the end, Noël stayed at Sundial House for three more days. During that time, he made Diarmad take his blood every six hours until the scars Misa caused had vanished and everyone confirmed that the king had fully recovered, at least physically.

Two days after Noël had gone home again, Diarmad was sitting on the stone bench of his Japanese garden. It had felt good to have Noël close by again, even if it had been only for a short period. With the poison out of his system and nobody manipulating him, he had also learned that the mate bond still existed, at least for him, and he was now experiencing the full impact of his loss. Still, Diarmad knew he had made the right decision.

When he heard the gentle crunch of steps on gravel, he turned his head and saw Ronan coming to him.

“My lord, I was in the cellar, checking on the bodies. After the fight, we put Misa’s and her mate’s bodies in one of the old storage rooms, but soon we will have to decide what to do with them. They are too alien to stay here on Earth. If we bury them and the humans will find them one day... We should probably cremate them and disperse the remains on the grounds.”

After short consideration, Diarmad shook his head. “No. We will inform the King of Tracct of all the facts we know so far that led to their death, and ask him what to do with the bodies. As she already murdered their father to become queen, he knows of her obsession with power and what she was willing to do to gain it. If we keep this a secret, on the other hand, we only draw suspicion on us. Maybe he will want to inspect the corpses to confirm our words. We should invite him or a representative to Earth. Or better though, as it is their home planet, and the rule that mated Seraei are not to visit other planets does not apply, I will visit Tracct and personally explain the situation to him.”

Ronan immediately contradicted him. “It is much too dangerous for you. We do not know if there is still someone out there wanting to kill you. As your chief of security, I vote strictly against this plan. I will go through the portal and do the handover myself.”

“Do you think you have time for this? Isn’t Becca is due anytime now?” Diarmad interjected.

“Nonsense! Becca says the baby isn’t ready to leave their cozy apartment yet. It will take at least a week or two until the birth of the baby. That’s time enough.”

After putting Carl in charge of protecting the King, and preparing the bodies for the jump, Ronan was ready to drive to the closest portal when Lionel came running after him. “Stop! Stop! You can’t leave! Becca just went into labor!”

In the end, they determined Diarmad should contact the King of Tracct and explain the situation to him. When King Mael heard what his sister had done, he apologized profusely and decided he would send a servant to collect the bodies to cremate them as fast as possible. He also promised to contact the King of Verdonia and convey the news of the death of his daughter in order to prevent diplomatic strife between Earth and Verdonia.

Little Ruy was born without complications, albeit a little sooner than expected. As was Seraei custom, the naming ceremony took place forty-eight hours after the birth. Diarmad had not been surprised that Ronan and Becca chose Noël and Landyn to be their son’s guardians. Ronan joked they only did it to ensure their son would get lifelong piano lessons for free, but seeing how Noël cared for the kids at the Music &Art Center, he knew why they really did it.

Landyn, the ever-alert protector, who would see all the possible things that could happen to the little boy before they actually harmed him, was his second guardian.

The ceremony took place in Sundial House’s 'Roman Garden'. While both men made their vows to always guard and watch over little Ruy, the air was filled with the scent of cypresses, rosemary, and sage. When Becca looked at him strangely, Diarmad suspected his smile was a little wooden while he performed the naming. Inside he was sad for not being one of the guardians. At the same time, he felt ridiculous. How could any sane parent choose him as guardian for their child, knowing what he did? So why was he even wondering why they didn't choose him?

After several hours, the pergola-enclosed garden felt stifling; the splashing of the fountain grated on his nerves, as did the happy laughter and low conversations. He felt excluded. While he made his way through the mulberry and fig trees, passed the marigolds and blooming saffron, he realized this was how he had to do penance; by being alone.

He knew he could not just wander off from the celebration; he had to go back eventually. And he better have a good excuse for why he left the garden in the first place. Then he remembered they had run out of ice. He grabbed the container, waved it around, and mouthed to Ronan he would get new ice. Then he walked back to the house; the perfect excuse for his absence.

Realizing how long he had been wandering around the gardens, lost in thought, Diarmad decided to take the shortcut through the library to the kitchen. Just when his hand touched the doorknob of the French doors, he heard voices.

"Kris, stop...." Noël demanded with a laughing voice.

"Ahh come on, let me see it again." Diarmad heard the rattle of a belt buckle, then a zipper.

"Hmmm... I can't believe you got this for me."

Got what for him?

"Shit, Kris! Fuck... ngh... Kris!"

"You're so sensitive. Lemme taste you. Come here...." Kris groaned.

It was obvious what they were doing in his library, and hot anger and jealousy suddenly surged through him. He was about to tear open the door and yell at them to stop, but as fast as those feelings flared up, they deflated. What right did he have to storm into that room? No right at all.

While he stood outside, pressing his forehead against the plaster of the wall, he fought against the images their words evoked in him: Noël leaning against one of the dark oak bookshelves, his pants shoved down his thighs, his beautiful cock hard and wet against his abs... That noise he made in the back of his throat when he was close. He could almost smell him as if he were there in the room with him, as if it was him on his knees in front of Noël. His penis hardened; he pictured his lips nibbling at the mark on his hipbone, his tongue running over his hard length, sampling his salty essence, his hands kneading those hard globes, his finger... until Kris' inquiring voice brought Diarmad back to harsh reality. "Does it hurt?" It would never be him again.

Wait, hurt?

"No, not anymore," Noël hissed, and it was almost if they were in a scuffle. "Stop Kris, we can't do that here." His voice was very adamant all of a sudden. Had he heard him outside? The thought made him grin.

"Why not?" Kris' annoyance could clearly be heard, and Diarmad had to admit he liked that too.

"You know why. We're not at home; somebody could come in any minute. We said we were getting ice; they're probably already waiting for us. What if they wonder why we're taking so long and come looking for us?"

Diarmad thought about taking a few steps back and then making some noise, so that they knew he was coming and they were forced to stop whatever they were doing. And why would Noël be hurt? What did he do for Kris? Another tattoo? One to cover his mark? Would he want to get rid of it? His hand went to the mark on his chest. He was shocked how much the mere thought hurt him.

"You mean what if he comes looking for us?" Kris asked grimly.

"It doesn't matter if it's Diarmad or anybody else, Becca's parents for example..."

Kris interrupted him. "But if it were him it would bother you the most. Right?"

It made Diarmad wonder how often they already had that or a similar conversation.

"Kris, don't start. I'm with you babe. I love you..."

They fell silent, and he imagined Noël enfolding Kris in his arms, running his hands soothingly over his shoulders, stroking his jaw with the back of his finger....

"Love...."

"It's just... I don’t understand....how could you choose me over him? He's so... I don't know, fucking beautiful and... he's a king for God's sake."

"You know all of this doesn't matter to me. I promise you here and now, even if he wanted me back again, I wouldn’t go back. You understand? I have you now, only you."

"Sometimes he reminds me of one of those sleek jungle cats, always on the prowl, and then I think that someday, he'll come to his senses, and he'll take you away from me."

Diarmad already had come to his senses and realized what he had done. And yes, he wanted Noël back, but he also knew that he had blown his chance.

As if to confirm this, Noël said, "That will never happen and you know it. He and I are over."

"Forever?"

"Forever."

Okay this was a little faster than last time. A big 'thank you' to my awesome and beta @Valkyrie.
Thank you reading! . Comments are always welcome. Or discuss the story with me/us here.