Shadows Return

Haba? Do say so if you’re not.” Cruel glee began to show through the solicitous mask.
    “What…Poison…”
    “No, just one of my master’s tinctures. It’s not the first time you’ve had it, you know. Been sleeping well since you came here? Have your dreams been especially vivid?” He held up a silver perfume flask and pulled out the stopper, waving it under Seregil’s nose. The scent of wandril flowers. Adzriel’s scent.
    “Bas—”
    “What’s that? Do speak up.” Ilar set the flask aside, then leaned close and stroked Seregil’s hair and cheek. Then he leaned closer still and kissed him, thrusting his tongue deep into his mouth.
    Seregil tried to bite him and Ilar pulled back, wiping his lips. “You used to like it when I did that.” This time he stroked his fingers down Seregil’s bare arm and across his chest, sending an involuntary shiver through him. Ilar paused as his fingers found the scar in the middle of Seregil’s chest.
    “What’s this? Ah, but you can’t answer.” He traced the outline of the round mark, then examined the dragon bite on Seregil’s hand. “That’s a most impressive mark. Who knows all the things you’ve done, to get so many interesting scars since we last met.” Ilar stroked his cheek again. “I’ve been so very patient, all these years. I waited a very long time to see you again, my little Haba. Oh, I’ve enjoyed our evenings together lately, but it’s so much nicer with you awake.”
    Seregil thought of those dreams he’d had, of an unseen lover touching him, coaxing his aching response. He’d have gagged if he’d been capable.
    I’d know if he raped me. I’d know. Oh, Illior!
    “You looked younger in your sleep, more like the boy I loved.”
    Seregil managed a low growl of disgust.
    Ilar’s hazel eyes went distant for a moment. “I did, I think. I was certainly very fond of you by the end. It was so hard to see it through, the commission given me by the khirnari of Virésse.”
    He laughed as Seregil’s eyes narrowed. “You didn’t think he’d stand by and allow your father to succeed, did you? But then, you were only a child, and not thinking of such things.” He stroked Seregil’s hair again. “But you’re a man now, aren’t you, and all grown up? Still, those pretty eyes of yours are the same, though I don’t believe I ever saw that kind of anger in them back then.” Without warning he slapped Seregil hard across the face. “What have
you
to be angry about? How does that compare with what happened to me? They let you live. They set you free!”
    A cold chill rippled unpleasantly over Seregil’s skin. “You—knew?” he managed, his voice a ghostly rasp.
    “Do you think I haven’t made it my business to know where you were, and how you were prospering? Poor little exile, weren’t you? Queen’s Kin!
Lord
Seregil, with your fine house and fine friends. And your
freedom
!” He struck Seregil again, and the coppery taste of blood welled along the edge of his tongue.
    “You—your—own—fault.”
    “My fault?” Ilar gave him an incredulous look. “You weren’t supposed to
murder
anyone! You were only supposed to be caught and made an embarrassment before your father. To upset his plans. That’s what I was paid to do. But you, you little monster, you killed a man! And I was the one who paid the price. That was your choice, but I’ve borne the curse of it.”
    Seregil rolled his eyes, chancing another slap. He didn’t believe him, and he didn’t care. “Alec?”
    “Ah yes. Alec. Word came from Aurënen that you’d returned, and that you had an Hâzadriëlfaie with you.” The hand that had slapped him traveled down Seregil’s belly and under the covers to caress his limp cock through his robe.
    “So?” Seregil was for once glad of the drug, for the way it dulled him to the movements of that hand.
    Ilar’s smile returned, thin and nasty, as he sat back and crossed his arms. “You really don’t know, do you? Or any of the khirnari of the Iia’sidra. No one remembers why Hâzadriël gathered her followers and disappeared, all those generations ago. But there are those here in Plenimar who do.”
    Seregil waited, intrigued in spite of his distrust. To his dismay, Ilar only chuckled and stood up.
    “Sleep well, Haba. Perhaps I’ll visit you again tonight.”
    “No! Alec…” Seregil croaked, as his body lay there like so much carrion.
    “He’s no longer your concern, is he? Oh, but just so you know?”