Traitor's Moon

cousins; such terms often indicated ties of affection rather than blood. One of these people turned out to be Kheeta’s mother, a dark-eyed woman who reminded Alec of Kari Cavish.
    She shook a finger sternly at Seregil. “You broke our hearts, Haba, but only because we loved you so.” The stern look gave way to a tearful smile as she embraced him. “It is so very good to see you in this house again. Come to the kitchen anytime and I’ll bake spice cakes for you.”
    â€œI’ll make you keep that promise, Aunt Malli,” Seregil replied huskily, kissing the backs of her hands.
    Alec knew he was seeing glimpses of a history he did not share. As the old familiar ache threatened to close around his heart, however, he felt long fingers close over his own. For once, Seregil understood and offered silent apology.
    The meal began informally with several courses of finger foods: morsels of spiced meat or cheese wrapped in pastry, olives, fruit, fanciful nosegays of edible greens and flowers.
    â€œ
Turab
, a Bôkthersan specialty,” a server murmured, filling Alec’s cup with a frothy reddish ale.
    Seregil clinked his cup against Alec’s, murmuring, “My talí.”
    Meeting his friend’s gaze over the rim of his cup. Alec saw an odd mix of joy and sadness there.
    â€œI’d like to hear of this war from you, Captain,” said Adzriel’s husband, Säaban í Irais, as a course of meats was served. “And from you, as well, Klia ä Idrilain, if it is not too upsetting to speak of it. There are many Bôkthersans who will join your ranks if the Iia’sidra allows.” Judging by the worried frown that crossed Adzriel’s face, Alec guessed that Säaban might be one of them.
    â€œThe more I see of your people, the more I wonder why they would risk themselves in a foreign conflict,” Beka replied.
    â€œNot all would, or will,” he conceded. “But there are those who would rather meet the Plenimarans now than fight them and the Zengati on our own soil later.”
    â€œWe can use all the help we can get,” said Klia. “For now, however, let’s keep the darkness away and speak of happier things.”
    As the evening progressed and the
turab
flowed, conversation turned to reminiscences of Seregil’s childhood exploits. Kheeta í Branín figured in a good many of these tales, and Alec was surprised to learn that the man was actually a few years older than Seregil. Seregil had moved to Kheeta’s couch to share some story, and Alec studied the pair and those around them, trying yet again to get his mind around the long ’faie life span that he himself shared. Adzriel and her husband, he knew, were in their twelfth decade, a youthful prime among the Aurënfaie. The oldest guest, a Gedre named Corim, was in his third century and looked no older than Micum Cavish, at least at first glance.
    It’s the eyes
, Alec thought. There was a stillness in the eyes of the older ’faire, as if the knowledge and wisdom of their long lives left its mark there—one that Kheeta did not yet show. Seregil, though—he had old eyes in a young face, as if he’d seen too much too soon.
    And so he has, just in the time I’ve known him
, Alec reflected. By the time they’d met, Seregil had already lived a human lifetime and seen a human generation age and die. He’d made a name for himself while the friends of his youth were still finishing out their long childhoods. Seeing him here, among his own kind, Alec realized for the first time just how young his friend actually was. What did his own people see when they looked at Seregil?
    Or at me?
    Seregil threw his head back, laughing, and for a moment he looked as innocent as Kheeta. It was good to see him like that, but Alec couldn’t keep away the darker thought that this was how he might have been if he’d never gone to Skala.
    â€œYou’re as solemn as Aura’s owl, and as quiet,” Mydri observed, sitting down next to him and taking his hand.
    â€œI’m still trying to believe I’m really here,” Alec replied.
    â€œSo am I,” she said, and another of those unexpectedly warm smiles softened her stern features.
    â€œCan the ban of exile ever be lifted?” Alec asked, keeping his voice low.
    Mydri sighed. “It happens, especially with one so young. Still, it would take a petition from the Haman khirnari