Caesura - 13. Chapter 13

Diarmad sat at his desk, pretending to review some council papers while he waited. The day they would perform the loyalty tests on his closest employees had come. Ronan had notified Keith and Lionel early in the morning. As he had expected, they understood the imperative need for the ancient ritual, and instantly agreed to meet their king and his chief of security at Diarmad’s study at eleven o’clock.

Since Misa’s attack, Diarmad had taken to working in his office with the door wide open, reassured by the presence of a guard who was watching the hallway at all times. Still, when a small noise warned him that he wasn't alone anymore, his hand immediately went to the sword lying along the right edge of his desk. A quick look to his phone informed him it was not yet time for the test. Inwardly preparing for a fight, he lifted his gaze, only to see Lionel leaning heavily against the doorframe. “Was not Keith first...?” Then he noticed that the man was deathly pale and could barely stand upright. His first thought was poison.

“Lionel!” By now the man was breathing labored, his whole body folding in. Pushing his chair back, Diarmad hurried around the desk and barely managed to catch Lionel before he collapsed.

“Lionel! What is the matter?”

“My lord! I-my... Oh my God! I’m...so sorry.” Struggling vehemently against Diarmad’s hold, he pleaded, “Please! Let me. I have to....” As soon as Diarmad loosened his grip, Lionel slid down to his knees.

"My King! Oh God!” His voice broke, and sobbing, he pressed his face against Diarmad’s thigh.

“Carl!”

“I’m already here, my lord. What happened to him?”

“I do not know! Poison maybe. He came in, stammered unintelligible words, and then broke down.”

Not sure what to do, Diarmad helplessly petted Lionel’s head and shoulder, trying to comfort him. “Are you in pain?”

Without waiting for an answer to his king’s question, Carl intervened by pulling Lionel away from him, but Diarmad shook his head. “Let him be.”

“But my lord! Ronan gave explicit orders to never let someone near you who could be a potential danger.”

“He is not dangerous.”

“But Ronan said—”

Diarmad waved his hand around impatiently. ”Stay here, if you must, and call Ronan for all I care.”

After some minutes of quiet crying, Lionel was eventually able to pull himself together. He wouldn’t accept any help when Diarmad tried to get him back to his feet. Instead, with trembling fingers, he held out a worn, creased, envelope he must have had in his hand the whole time.

“Don’t touch that!” Ronan yelled from the door.

Ignoring the other men, Lionel touched Diarmad’s hand. "My King... my Keith is dead." He raised a shaking hand to wipe away the tears running down his face. "He killed himself after he confessed to me that he h-helped Misa t-to poison you.”

"What?!" Keith? No!

After hearing this, Ronan quickly placed Lionel in a chokehold. “Get your hands off the king at once!”

“Ronan! Leave him alone.”

As soon Ronan took his hands away, Lionel sank to the floor prostrating himself at his king’s feet. “It wasn’t his fault, my lord! They tricked him by giving him Verdonian food to sample. He never had a chance against her. She knew exactly who to go after, who had the most compassionate heart she could betray. After eating only a few bites, the mixed-in drug immediately broke down what little natural mental barrier Keith had. From then on, he was helpless. She manipulated him whenever and however she wanted. It must have been so horrible for him. To be her will-less puppet. And I, his mate, didn’t notice his suffering." After taking a shuddering breath, Lionel straightened up and looked Diarmad right in the eye.

"I told him repeatedly you would understand, that you would forgive him, but Keith didn't want to hear it, my foolish man. He insisted the right thing would have been to come to you the minute he found her and her mate; that he should have never hidden them. After she was dead and he was no longer under her thrall, the guilt ate him up. He sensed you would understand, eventually even forgive him, but he felt he didn’t deserve your mercy. He was convinced he had to be punished for everything he did, especially for alienating your mate from you. He loved the boy so much from day one. Seeing him suffer, and you losing your balance and mind, being aware he did this to you, he couldn't live with it anymore."

"Where—” Diarmad had to swallow around the lump in his throat. Finally, he whispered, "How did he...?" He couldn't finish the question, dreading the answer.

"In the maze, he took extracts of the Dedara plant.”

"Oh God!”

“And because he knew he would scream in agony after drinking it, he gagged himself so nobody would find him until it was too late...." Lionel began to sob again.

“But Dedara... It's said that the pain is excruciating, that the victims suffer for hours from cramps, and shout themselves hoarse. It was used in the olden days to punish the most abominable criminals, individuals who the judges felt the punishment of death was not enough. It is unreasonable, cruel, and I banned it as soon as I became king."

Lionel hid his face behind his hands. "When I finally found him, I almost didn't recognize him, my lord. His body contorted; his face frozen in eternal torture. It was as cruel as they say, and he died all alone...."

Diarmad knelt so he could wrap his arms around Lionel’s trembling frame. "Where is he now?"

"I carried his body up to our room.”

Diarmad swallowed. “What do you want to do now?”

“He wished to be cremated so his ashes can be scattered in an alien place far away from home so no grave marker will remind us of him and his awful deeds. He wished to be simply forgotten."

Diarmad laid his hand firmly on Lionel’s shoulder. "We will follow his wish— almost. For I promise you this now; he will never be forgotten."

“My king, can you forgive him then?”

“How could I not, Lionel? He was a mere victim, cunningly chosen by a despicable person.”

In the following weeks, Diarmad expected a heartbroken Lionel to ask for the rite of unio. Helping mates reunite with their beloved in death was something every Seraei could ask of their king, and he dreaded it every time it happened. However, when he hinted he was ready to perform the rite with him, Lionel confided to him that Keith had entrusted him with an assignment he had to fulfill first, before he could follow him in death. Diarmad was relieved, even if the unavoidable had only been postponed.

After they had scattered Keith’s ashes around his favorite spots on Sundial House’s grounds, and Lionel had recounted little stories and anecdotes connected to those places, the man left the house on the evening of the same day, not to be seen again.

Diarmad wondered what was so important to Lionel that he was willing to suffer the pain from an imbalanced soul for an undetermined time, though he had always said, should he survive his mate, he would immediately follow so their souls would be free to find each other again.

Witnessing the love and pain in Lionel's eyes when they said their goodbyes to Keith, reminded Diarmad of everything he had had himself , of what he had thrown away, never to be his again. Like Lionel, he would be damned to go through his life alone.

Several weeks after the funeral, Diarmad came across Keith's letter in one of his desk drawers. He must have stuffed it inside before he went with Lionel to take care of Keith's remains, and then forgotten all about it.

When he opened it, he expected an apology, regret maybe, even an explanation why he chose such a terrible death, but never this.

My King,

The voices... they never stopped.

The guilt, so overwhelming. I neglected my duties. I betrayed you and your mate.

Lionel insists it wasn't my fault and I should put my fate in your hands, you would know what to do with it. You would be merciful. I know he is right. But the voices say I don't deserve mercy.

They say I failed.

I must obey.

My King! There are others... they are near you... don't trust...

Throat tight, Diarmad stared at the letter for several minutes. The handwriting was scraggily; it seemed in the end Keith had fought for every single word: there are others... don't trust...

A warning. Keith’s final service to him.

After thinking about it, Diarmad realized he was not surprised at all. Probably because, at the back of his mind, he had always wondered how Misa, who was relatively simple-minded, could engineer such an intricate scheme all by herself. Now he knew that others had been behind the attack.

But who? Once again, his own people were betraying him. The Seraei were aggressive by nature but this....

Fury surged through Diarmad’s mind every time he thought about how these ruthless people had used and hurt innocents. Seeing how little they valued individual life gave him an idea of what he was up against. It was a good thing he wasn’t alone in this fight.

Don't trust...

He understood how the Seraei hunted. It was their nature: they watched their prey; learned its way, planned, and only then would they attack. After their failure last time, he expected his enemies to lay low for a while. They might take years, or decades, before they struck again. Thanks to Keith though, he had an advantage now; he knew they were coming.

In his mind, he evaluated his chances. What to do next? Who would be his allies?

... there are others...

He made a mental list of those he thought he could trust: Noël, Ronan, Landyn? Simon? The council members? He had known them for many years; they were mostly supportive, but one could never know. He had learned that in the most painful way already. His next step had to be to inform Ronan of the new situation. After that they would perform the loyalty test on the rest of his close circle: Becca, Landyn, Simon, and the security team.

When he showed Ronan the letter and explained the proceedings to him, his chief of security agreed with Diarmad’s ideas immediately, the only addition he had was to repeat the test regularly so they could still be trusted.

To their great relief, the test showed the security team was loyal to their king, as were Landyn, Simon, and Becca. Afterwards, they took them into their confidence and told them of the threat without explaining in detail how they found out about it. They only mentioned an informant.

Over the years, when his loneliness and the craving for Noël’s blood threatened to become overwhelming, the thought of following Keith's example flickered on the brink of Diarmad’s mind every so often, but suicide by Dedara, even in the most painful way, could never be his choice.

He was King. It was his duty to protect his people, to see to their needs, to help their unwitting human hosts, and make sure they'd never learn of the Seraei. Therefore, from then on, Diarmad decided to live to serve; it was his way of paying reparations for his failure.

He focused solely on his kingly duties. He made a habit of regularly visiting every Seraei clan living on Earth, even the ones in remote places. He wanted to strengthen their bond as a people--to learn about their various cultures and habits, and make them feel united again. It was also a perfect way to make secret inquiries about his hidden enemies, and ensure the clans’ support; because he had the feeling he might need all of them one day.

Keeping busy was also a good method to finally let go of his futile hope.

Noël’s extended presence at his home after the attack, and especially drinking his mate’s blood after months of being abstinent, had become a problem. As soon as Diarmad was away from Noël for a few days, he felt unbalanced. Diarmad realized he was addicted to his blood again, even though he had been able to wean himself with the unwitting help of Misa’s drug. After discussing the problem, they had developed a useful routine. Every time Diarmad returned from his trips, they would spend some time together at Sundial house, so he could rebalance his soul and quench its longing for his mate. When the craving for blood became too difficult, Noël allowed him a few sips, and after almost a year, Diarmad had overcome the need again.

At first, their meetings had been awkward. They had talked about court and administrative matters of all things, even Noël’s family, his studies, and his plans after graduation. Sometimes Noël just pored over an essay he had to finish, or he would ask for Diarmad’s expertise, and they discussed the topic for hours. Diarmad enjoyed it when this happened. Mostly, he read a book and secretly watched his former mate. They tried to avoid talking about anything remotely personal though, and slowly Diarmad became accustomed to his single life again. He found solace in performing his duties.

He sometimes noticed Noël looking at him curiously when he thought he wasn’t watching; maybe he saw his loneliness and wondered if he was still alone. Diarmad, however, knew that there would never be another man to share his life with. On Lionel’s recommendation, he had Ivan working for him now. He had taken over Keith's tasks. He had become a friend like Ronan and Becca, who were still living at the house with Ruy.

Otherwise, Diarmad became a mere bystander in Noël's life. He had been invited to his graduation ceremony and dinner, and attended the tape-cutting party of his and Kris’ newly established artist’s agency. He went to some of the important concerts of their upcoming clients. From afar, he watched how their company grew and became a success. Kris and Noël had a knack of finding talented singers, comedians, and musicians in small bars, performing on streets, fairs, or at school concerts. Noël scoped them out, and Kris made sure they got airtight contracts with record companies, and later, ad agencies. He wasn’t exactly surprised when they sold their business at some point. What they had always ever wanted was to be recruiters as opposed to the big players, and rather develop a family or friend-like relationship with their artists--a thing that wouldn't be possible if they'd continued to play in the big leagues.

As time passed, Noël and Kris ran into the typical Seraei problem: It became more and more obvious that Noël, being Seraei now, didn't age with Kris. For a while, they could chalk it up to good genes, but eventually they had to actively mask it. Over the years, Noël became quite adept in the artistic techniques of make-up. First, he let his hair grow to hide the make-up better, wore hats with large brims or caps, and sunglasses. He adjusted his way of walking and body posture to that of an older man. Diarmad could only guess how much it must have cost him to maintain his disguise all the time, and he absolutely understood when he retreated from the public eye. More and more Noël let Kris do the public appearances. Sometimes Diarmad pictured him coming home, putting away the whole masquerade, stepping under a hot shower, and afterwards getting out some sweats, and throwing himself on the couch with a bag of potato chips, watching some mundane stuff on TV, relishing the fact that he could only be himself for a few hours, and snuggle with Kris on the couch.

In all their years together; however, nothing ever leaked, even though they were continuously watched. They were quite famous in their little town.

As every morning, Ivan set the tray with Diarmad’s breakfast and the tablet for the morning paper on his desk without saying a word, but he could feel that something had happened. Scrolling through the local news site, Diarmad soon found the small personal notice.

A few days ago, my longtime partner in life and business, Kristof Sorenson, passed away peacefully in my arms. According to his wishes, his funeral will be later in private.

The business has become meaningless to me without him. Consequently, my retirement will go into effect immediately. Please respect our decision. We also want to thank all those who helped to make our idea a success.

Goodbye, my friends.

Noël

This was the last chapter. The epilogue will be out soon.
Thank you for reading, liking and commenting on Caesura.
If you want to talk/rant: This would be the place. Here I will announce news and further projects. 
 
A huge 'Thank you' to @Valkyrie, who took over the editing from @Lisa and was my trusted beta-reader from chapter one to thirteen.