The Third Son (34 page)

Damien felt as if the rug had been pulled out from under him. He suddenly felt tired, deflated and completely out of control. He had never allowed himself to consider the possibility of Serge’s death. His injuries were severe, but Serge was strong as an ox and stubborn as a mule. He had to survive. But what if he doesn’t? The question nagged him, taunted him with the certainty of his future. He, Damien Largess, third son of Adare, would be king of Cardenas.

“I will not take the throne while Serge lives,” he said finally. “We will wait and see what happens. I will not take something that is not rightfully mine.”

“I am not asking you to,” Alexandra replied. “According to the law, if the king is unfit to rule, then the council must be assembled. A decision must be made there in order to pass the crown down to you. Doctor Keane can be made to testify to your brother’s condition
. T
he council will no doubt rule in your favor.”

Damien had never known such anger before. He gripped Alexandra’s shoulders tightly, shaking her roughly. The teapot in her hand rattled and the painted china cup and saucer clattered to the marble floor and shattered to pieces. Alexandra whimpered and fear filled her eyes, but she did not struggle against him.

“You are a pitiful excuse for a mother,” he said, his voice a low rumbling growl. “You have rejected me my entire life and have shown me nothing but disinterest and contempt. Now you seek to manipulate me as well and I will not allow it. You haven’t a loyal bone in your body, so allow me to make this clear to you. I will not assemble the council and convince them to wrest the crown from my brother while he fights for his life. Until he awakens I will act as steward to the throne.”

He released Alexandra and she took a few steps away from him, schooling her features into a mask of cool reserve. “Very well,” she said, knowing she was powerless to force his hand. “I can see that you are still very hurt over your father’s death and Nicolai’s betrayal.
Y
ou must eventually come down from the cloud you have been living on and face reality. Serge will more than likely die. The fate of Cardenas and Barony will rest in your hands.”

When he did not respond, she turned to leave but stopped suddenly
.
“Oh, and you might think of poor Isabelle as well,” she said, turning to glance at him over her shoulder. “Her future is as uncertain as yours.”

Damien cursed
her
under his breath as he made his way back toward his room. He had almost reached the door to his chambers when he remembered his reasons for going to the kitchen in the first place. With a heavy sigh, he turned and walked back. He hated himself for the pattern of his thoughts, but Alexandra’s words had the nasty sting of truth in them. It was as if someone had doused his face with cold water.

He gathered a hunk of crusty bread, some fruit, a few slabs of roast beef, and a bottle of Sherry before turning back toward his chambers. In his heart
,
he willed his brother to live, but in his mind, he knew it would be hopeless. Damien saw his dreams of a new life with Esmeralda falling down around him like great hunks of crumbling stone.

****

Esmeralda shivered and wrapped her thick shawl more snugly around her shoulders. December was rapidly approaching and the bitter cold was becoming harsher. Akira stood and gently poked at the dying embers of the fire before adding another log. The flames leapt upward and Esmeralda held her hands out toward the radiating warmth.

“The days grow colder,” said Akira, her eyes clouded. “This year winter will be bitter and cruel.” Esmeralda frowned as she studied her grandmother. The old woman had been quite distracted lately and Esmeralda knew that could not be a good sign. Whenever Akira sank into one of these moods, it was because she had seen something in one of her visions that disturbed her. Esmeralda wondered if it concerned her.

She was just about to ask, when a pounding at the front door interrupted. She leapt to her feet and crossed to the door, but Akira was already there. “He’s late,” she murmured before swinging the door open. Damien strode in, bringing in a great deal of snow on his boots and shoulders of his greatcoat.

He barely spared Esmeralda a glance before turning back to Akira. His eyes were wild, as was his hair, which Esmeralda could tell had been mussed by nervous fingers. He looked like a caged jungle cat, prepared to pounce. Something had obviously happened in the few days since she had seen him.

“I need to know where he is,” he said to Akira. “I have to know where to find my cousin.” Damien knew he must look and sound like a madman, but his anger and frustration had reached their limits. The captain of the guard had sent him several messages; he had led his men on a thorough search, but Nicolai was nowhere to be found. The servants at his estate said he had not returned. They had searched and questioned everyone Damien could think of, but he knew that the search was futile. Nicolai could lose himself in the mountains that bordered Cardenas and Barony and never be found.

“You have to help me,” he pleaded. “You showed me things before and they all came true. This time maybe you can show me where he is.”

Akira reached out and grasped his hands tightly.. Akira watched him for a moment, then nodded decisively.

“Come,” she said, motioning toward the staircase. “Esmeralda,” she commanded, “be a good girl and brew some of Raina’s special tea. Your beloved with probably need it when we are through.” Esmeralda grudgingly obeyed, even though she wanted so desperately to follow them up the stairs. She set the teapot over the stove, plopped down into a chair, and waited.

Akira’s room was just as Damien remembered it. Though it was mid-afternoon, dark curtains kept the light of the afternoon sun away, shrouding the room in darkness. Akira lit a lamp and led the way to the same low table they had sat at before. Damien took his place, kneeling across from her, waiting patiently for her to offer him her pipe. She removed the pipe from one of the pockets in her voluminous robes and stuffed it with tobacco from a small glass jar nearby. The familiar blue smoke curled around her as she lifted it toward her lips.

When it was Damien’s turn he inhaled eagerly, relieved that the fragrant smoke did not choke him as it had before. Once his vision had cleared, he saw himself standing in the courtyard before Largess Hall. Snow fell all around him, yet he was not wearing a coat. He stood in his shirtsleeves, with Lionus’ sword clenched at his side, the steel glistening menacingly in the moonlight.
             

A figure in black moved toward him through the swirling flurries of falling snow, his sword drawn as well. As the man drew near, Damien saw the unmistakable glow of Nicolai’s white-blond hair and the flash of eyes identical to his own. Just before the image faded, he saw the two figures rush toward each other, their swords clashing together between them.

Damien fought to hold on to the image, but it was gone and a new one was in its place. He saw the figure of a woman and though he could only see her back, he knew it was Esmeralda. She was gowned in white and her hair was loose and flowing down her back. Her head was covered with a white lace mantilla and Damien could faintly make out a small bouquet of flowers in her hands.

Joy filled his heart at the sight of Esmeralda dressed as a bride. His heart swelled even more as that vision faded and the third one sprang to life before him. A child ran, laughing across the lawn at Largess Hall. He recognized the circular band of trees behind the child, a girl, in the background. She ran and giggled, waving at some unseen person. Her eyes were as green as the grass she ran on.

Damien was smiling when the haze dissipated and he found himself back in the room with Akira. Akira was solemn. “Patience will serve you well,” she said, leaning back against her many cushions with a tired sigh. “You will not find your enemy, but do not despair. He will come to you.”

Damien nodded. He and Nicolai had confronted each other on the steps of Largess Hall and Damien could see from his vision that the attack was well anticipated. He had only to wait. He stood quickly, a wide smile crossing his features.
Damien
left Akira to rest and took the stairs two at a time down to the kitchen where Esmeralda waited for him.

She was surprised to see him smiling and was even more surprised when he lifted her in his arms and spun her around, laughing joyously. “What has gotten into you?” she asked before he silenced her with a searing kiss. “I suppose the news was good.”

Damien set her on her feet. “You have no idea. I’m so glad I came today!”

“Are you going to tell me what you saw?” she asked. His excitement was contagious. Damien studied her for a moment before responding. Esmeralda did not yet show signs of pregnancy. The child in his vision had been at least 2 or 3 years old, so she might not have conceived yet
b
ut the possibility had lifted his spirits beyond belief.

“I saw you as my bride,” was all he said. He did not wish to unnerve her by speaking of the child and he certainly wasn’t going to tell her about the duel with Nicolai. All of these things could be dealt with as they came.

He left Esmeralda’s cottage filled with a hope that he had long deserted him.
Damien
turned to see her watching him from the doorway and his heart was lifted, thinking of the new life to come and the new life that could now be growing inside the woman he loved.

The snow was relentless, falling in flurries that swirled around the still form of a man standing on the precipice of one of the mountains bordering Cardenas and Barony. Nicolai stood, his legs wide as if on the deck of a rocking ship. His black greatcoat whipped about his body with the shifting of the biting wind
. T
he fur lining served to keep him considerably warm. He stood with his gloved hands shoved deep in his pockets, his cool green eyes surveying the land below him.

Soon everything as far as the sparkling ocean beyond would be his. The end was near, and Nicolai could taste the inevitable victory. Two brothers down, he told himself. He had debated extensively over his decision regarding Damien. Though he knew things would be much simpler if he did away with his only remaining relative, Nicolai never did anything that didn’t serve some sort of purpose.

Damien had said with his own lips that if the crown were in his hands, he would allow it to pass him over. He knew that the recent deaths of his father and brothers had held Damien back from leaving the country, but Nicolai knew him well enough to know that his cousin would not give up that easily.
S
o, Nicolai waited.

He glanced over his shoulder at his loyal band of men. Each of them was discontented with their lots in life, money hungry and willing to do anything to better their own circumstances. He had promised them all titles, wealth and a place in his royal court when he was crowned. So far they had proven invaluable, his own private little army.

Nicolai knew they were growing restless. They were watching him, huddled around the small campfires between the opulent tents Nicolai had provided. The men slept on fur rugs, had all the ale and spiced wine they could ask for and more than enough food, even if there weren’t many choices.

When the king’s soldiers had come looking for him, Nicolai knew that one of his brothers had lived long enough to reveal his identity. He had been ready for such an occurrence and immediately led his men into the mountains. The men were impatient
,
some even questioned why they didn’t just have done with it and kill Damien.

Nicolai had decided to give his brother time, hoping that he would be wise enough to follow through with his plans to whisk his fiancé off to America. He would allow Damien to decide his own fate. The moment he received word that Damien had set sail, he would take his rightful place. The second he heard otherwise, Damien would not live long enough to regret it.

Chapter 20

Two more weeks passed without any change in Serge’s condition. Damien and Esmeralda spent much of their time at his bedside, watching and waiting for any sign of life. Damien was beginning to believe that his mother and the physicians were right
.
Serge wasn’t going to wake up.

The time had come for Damien to go to the High Council. Alexandra had said no more to him on the subject, but Jarvis had informed him that the queen mother had already petitioned the council on his behalf. He had only to call on them and they would assemble, ready to rule in his favor. He stood at the foot of his brother’s bed, attired in formal court dress, complete with military style jacket and sash boasting the blue and grey colors of the Largess family.
The jacket fit him well in his broad shoulders and tapered in at the waist where a black belt holding a jewel-hilted sword was fastened. The jacket boasted rows of silver buttons down his chest, and epaulets and silver braid at the shoulders; snowy white linen was tied at his throat, and highly polished black boots gleamed on his feet.

Damien
stood silently for a while, watching his brother’s shallow breath.
Serge’s
fluttering pulse at the juncture of
his
jaw and throat
was barely detectable
. He sighed heavily, wondering how a person could hover so precariously on the line between life and death.
Damien
had hoped and prayed so furiously that his brother would wake up, but the heavens seemed to be ignoring his requests.