WINDHEALER (36 page)

"What time did you come in last night, young Wynland?" Shalu asked, one brow slashed upward in challenge.

Wyn swallowed, looked at the others, then slowly returned his attention to the black man. "It wasn't late, sir." He cringed, hearing his childish, immature voice cracking.

"That's not what he asked, Wyn," came Conar's soft voice.

Wyn saw his father studying him as he leaned on his bow. Why he felt like a ten-year-old caught with his hand in the cookie jar Wynland didn't know, but he knew he was blushing. He was being taken to task for something. What, however, he didn't know. "I was in by twelve, Papa."

"Isn't that a coincidence?" Shalu rumbled. "That's about the same time Kyminda arrived at our apartments." The hawk-like gaze pierced Wyn. "Might she have been with you until then?"

If there was one thing Wyn had learned over the years from his father's many mistresses—who had been more than willing to teach Wyn a thing or two—was that you didn't compromise a lady's reputation. If punishment was needed, you took it on yourself. Despite the fact that he was afraid of Shalu with his gruff, rough voice, and that he didn't like the blank look on his father's face, Wyn took a deep breath and spoke as succinctly as his trembling knees would allow. "No, Highness. She wasn't with me, but I heard her say she was planning on walking down by the ponds. Perhaps she might have done so and fallen asleep there?"

"Fallen asleep, you say?" Shalu commented. "Alone?"

"Aye! Most assuredly alone!"

"You left a lady sleeping alone by the pond?" Dyllon asked, his face expressionless. "That was most ungentlemanly. Anything could have happened to her."

"I didn't leave her…" Wyn stopped, looking at his father. No help there. He looked at his Uncle Coron and saw only polite attention on his face. Wyn didn't want to look at Shalu, but when he did, he saw storm clouds gathering on the face. He wanted to groan.

"I thought you said she was alone," Shalu said.

"Well, what I meant to say was…well, she
was
alone… I sort of watched over her."

"You spied on the lady?" Dyllon asked with indignation.

"
No!
I sort of… I kind of… I…" He looked at the ground. "I kind of followed her to make sure she'd be all right and I, well, I guess I fell asleep, too."

"While you were watching out for the lady?" Coron inquired.

"Aye."

"The two of you slept together?" Shalu thundered.

"
No!"
Wyn nearly yelped. "We…were…"

"The two of you were sleeping," Dyllon said.

"But not together!"

"She was sleeping; you were sleeping." Shalu's face turned as hard as rock. "Even if you were miles apart, you two were sleeping together, weren't you?"

Wyn's face paled. He found his father watching him intently. "Papa?" he pleaded.

"Kym was asleep and you stayed nearby to protect her. Is that it?" his father asked.

Wyn nodded fiercely. "That's exactly what I did. I protected her!"

"How considerate," came Shalu's rumble. "I take it you are fond of Kyminda."

Wyn raised his eyes. "She's… Kym's…well, she's sort of…"

"Nice to be with?" his father supplied.

"Aye!" Wyn heaved a sigh of relief that his father, at least, understood. He didn't like the secret smile on his Papa's face, but at least he wasn't looking at him like the Necromanian King was.

"When you
watch
over her again, young Wynland," Shalu said, "make sure you have her home before your father and I have to come looking for you."

Wyn's attention jerked to his father. "You…you came looking for us?"

Conar nodded.

"A most reassuring sight it was to see the two of you sleeping like babes by the pond," Shalu said, smirking. He wanted to add "fully clothed" but he'd had enough sport with the boy for one day. In truth, he trusted Kym, and knew Conar trusted Wyn.

"We didn't…what I mean to say is, we wouldn't have…" Wyn looked to the heavens. "I would never do anything to compromise your daughter, Highness."

"He knows, Wyn," Conar answered.

Wyn turned beet red as the others laughed.

"Leave the boy alone," Chase admonished. "You've got him pissing his pants." He walked to the boy and ruffled his hair. "Don't let them get to you. They've all been where you were a moment or two ago!"

"Many times!" Dyllon admitted.

"Wyn?" Conar called. "Come walk with me."

He hastened to his father's side and smiled, liking the way the blue of Conar's eyes was mellowing. He liked the way the strong bow arm draped across his shoulder as they left the others.

"I am proud of you," his father said as they walked.

"Why? What did I do?"

"For wanting to protect your lady. That shows courage and respect, not only for her, but for her father, as well. We weren't spying on you last eve. We were out strolling and came across the two of you."

"There wasn't anything to see, Papa."

"I know." Conar motioned for Wyn to sit beside him on the ground. He crossed his legs and pulled the quiver of arrows from his back, laid them on the grass and looked across the field. "You are growing fond of her, aren't you?"

"Kym?" Wyn asked, playing for time since the question had taken him aback.

"Have you another lady?"

Wyn shook his head. He screwed up his courage. "I want no other lady, Papa."

He didn't quite understand the look on his father's face. He thought it might well have been disappointment, sadness, denial; he wasn't sure.

There was a long pause. Conar took a deep breath and faced his son. "Do you love her?"

Wyn nodded.

"Are you sure it is love?"

"As sure as I am that tomorrow will come."

"How can you tell that it's love and not infatuation? Lust, or a similar feeling?"

Wyn blushed. Only in his fevered dreams did he think of Kym with anything close to lust. Not once had he tried to touch her or undress her with his eyes as he had a score of other girls. Not a novice to the art of making love, he was sure Kym was. Her virginity was something he prized.

"How can any man tell if he's in love, Papa? You can't eat; you can't sleep; you find yourself thinking of her day and night. You write silly poems to her; you carve her name on everything you see. You find yourself making excuses to go by her apartment. You leave the building when she does so you can bump into her. I just know I love her, Papa."

"You're too young to really know, don't you think?"

"Both Uncle Coron and Uncle Dyllon married before their sixteenth birthdays," Wyn protested. "Their brides were younger still."

"That was a mistake my papa made in allowing them to marry so young, but the Tribunal put pressure on him to give his blessing."

"But they've been happy."

"They have."

"How old were you when you fell in love with Liza?"

A shadow crossed Conar's face. "Older than you are now."

"And yet you knew you loved her, didn't you, Papa? If your father had said you were too young to love her, would you have listened?"

"I have no way of knowing, but to answer you as truthfully as I can… I probably wouldn't have." He took his son's hand. "I want you to be happy, Wyn. I want you to find a love that will last. One that will be everything to you. One that won't hurt you as my love for Liza has hurt me."

It wasn't disappointment he was seeing on his father's face. It was sadness, a terrible, lonely sadness that he understood. He covered his father's hand with his own.

"I do love her, Papa, and she loves me. Is it wrong? Are
we
wrong to love one another?"

"Why would you think it wrong?"

"Because we are of two different countries. Two different religions. Two different—"

"Races?"

"Does that make a difference?"

"To some men it would."

"Does it make a difference to you, Papa?"

Conar took another deep breath. "Not if the love you have for her is genuine. Not if her love for you is just as genuine. It will be difficult for you both. There are those who will shun you. There will be those who will curse and malign you. Your children will suffer for the prejudices of others. But if the love you have for one another is strong, you can overcome the greatest difficulties." He slipped his hand out from under Wyn's and cupped his son's cheek. "Marriage is always an iffy proposition. You never really know someone until you've lived with them. Money matters and child rearing are the two most deadly destroyers of marriages. But if you learn to compromise, learn to adjust, there is nothing you cannot overcome, and adversity often makes a marriage stronger."

"Would you give us your blessing when the time comes?"

Conar smiled. "I would. You're young, she's even younger. Don't rush. These years of your life are the best of all the years you will have. Never again will you be as free or unencumbered. Enjoy each day. Make the most of it."

Wyn nodded. "Do you think her father will be a problem?"

Conar looked past Wyn's shoulder. "Why don't you ask him yourself."

Wyn slowly turned to see Shalu leaning against a tree not five feet away.

"Listen to the things your father says and add this one piece of advice," Shalu told him. "Never raise your hand in anger to your lady. It is also best to remember the old adage about not going to bed angry. You don't sleep well if you do and you may find your breakfast
on
your head instead of
in
your belly come morning!"

"You have no objection to Kym and me…ah, well…you know…courting?" Wyn stammered.

"I have no objection to you
spending
time with my daughter." The hawk-like gaze sharpened. "I think the word 'courting' is not quite appropriate as yet."

"But would you be adverse to Kym and me, well, being together when we're older?" Because he was Conar's bastard son, Wyn was fearful the Necromanian King would deny such a marriage.

"Are you worthy of my daughter's hand, young Wynland?"

Wyn raised his chin. "I will make myself worthy, Highness! I will make myself worthy of what
you
expect from a son-in-law."

The Necroman came to tower over Wyn. He put his huge hands on his hips and stared at Wyn with an expression like the gathering of a storm. The dark face was set and hard. "I will expect a lot from the man who would become my kinsman."

Wyn glanced at his father, and saw himself being regarded with keen expectation. He stood and held out his hand to the Necroman. "I give you my word as the firstborn son of Prince Conar McGregor that I will be everything you will ever want in a kinsman, King Shalu."

Shalu thrust out his hand, taking Wyn's wrist in a grasp designed to be painful, but Wyn didn't even blink. "Word given in his name are words I hold sacred. Live up to them and you may one day be as good a man as your father."

After Wyn left them, the two warriors sat in silence, looking at the lowering sun across the training field. They were comfortable in one another's presence; neither had to say words the other already knew. Both were content with the alliance they felt had already been formed between their two houses.

"She'll give him a run for his money," Shalu sighed.

"And he'll give her the time of her life."

"And they'll give us grandchildren who will be holy terrors."

Conar let out a long breath. "Does that word make you feel old?"

Shalu shrugged. "I've always felt old. But grandchildren are supposed to make you young again."

There was pain in Conar's voice. "I'll never feel young again, my friend."

The sun sank gracefully below the horizon. They sat in the gathering dusk, side by side, in silent companionship.

He felt tingling across his lips and swung a hand to his lips, rubbing the itching surface. Once more the sensation slipped over his lips and he puckered, twitching them from side to side, sniffling. He heard a light, musical giggle and came instantly awake, his eyes wide.

In the light of the single candle, he saw a nimbus of golden hair shimmering above him, the hair glowing with red and orange tints. Although he couldn't see her face, he could see the naked expanse of creamy skin and realized with a jolt the woman in bed with him was naked.

"Are you sure you have the right bed, Milady?" he asked more casually than he felt. He knew Chase had been exceedingly busy of late. In the semi-darkness, it was more than conceivable this strange woman had erred.

Another light giggle emitted from the woman. She caressed his chest, smoothing the hair between his manly breasts.

Conar gently removed her questing fingers. He became aware of her warm thigh rubbing along his. He raised an brow in annoyance and withdrew his leg from contact with hers.

"Montyne's room is down the hall. I'm sure he's waiting for you." He moved as far away from her lilac-scented body as he could get without getting out of the bed.

A voice, low and throaty, sultry, wafted to him. "I can well remember a time when you liked the way
we
played together, Conar Aleksandro."

There was something alarmingly familiar in the voice. A challenge in her smoky words that made him start. "Who are you?" He felt a sensation along his spine that wasn't at all pleasant.

"Don't you know?"

He was more annoyed than ever. He didn't like playing games with strange women, although he had a wicked feeling this woman was no stranger. He turned and lit the lamp on his night table. His mouth dropped open so comically, she let out a tinkling burst of delight.

"Oh, Conar! If you could see your face, dearling!" she cooed. She laughed delicately, setting her high breasts to jiggling. When she saw his immediate attention go to the firm mounds, she arched her back to give him a better look.

"Raja?" he croaked, staring at her with something akin to horror.

"None other!" she teased. Snuggling down in the bed beside him, she rested her head on his chest and then wound her right hand around his waist, taking advantage of his confusion and stunned silence to press her naked body close.

Of all the women he had ever known, Raja DeLyle was the one he most hated and feared. His first woman—he had been but a child when she seduced him at Boreas—she had also initiated several of his brothers as well as Roget and Teal du Mer. She was an insatiable sex addict whose taste for young boys had caused Conar to have an unsavory view of most females. He had a vivid memory of once telling Liza about her. His fear and disgust of the woman had not lessened.

"How did you get in here?" he asked, barely aware of her caresses. "For that matter, how do you come to be here at all?"

She licked the puckered flesh over one of his paps, smiling with delight when he jumped as though he had been stung.

"
Don't do that!"
he shouted, prying her away from his body.

"You used to like me to do that, remember?"

"What are you doing here?" He moved away from her, too aware of his own nakedness.

Raja sat up. She drew a long lock of golden hair over her shoulder, across her naked breast. Her mouth was set in a tiny, wounded pout, but her velvety eyes sparkled with desire. She didn't answer, but drew up her knees and let out a groan of seductive need.

"Raja!" His gaze slid sideways, despite his good intentions of not staring at her breasts, the loveliest he had ever seen. He took in a hasty breath, her beauty affecting him as it had done when he was a boy. He remembered well what her body was like beneath his.

"I refuse to answer until you get that menacing 'Gerren tone' out of your voice!"

Closing his mouth in exasperation and annoyance, he hesitated before changing tactics. She had always been stubborn, used to having things her way, a selfish woman who thought only of herself and her needs.

"I apologize if I offended you," he lied.

"That's better."

"Will you answer me, please?"

With a sweet, tantalizing smile, she gazed at him. "I have lived in Chrystallus before. I have a small house a friend left me when he died. Until a few weeks ago, though, I had been in Diabolusia. I left Serenia when Galen took the throne and went to live in the court at Deseo, near Hieaj. Serenia was becoming a cesspool filled with Tribunal shit."

He hadn't forgotten Raja's tendency to use gutter language. He was surprised only that it appalled him as much now as it had when he was young.

"I may decide to go back when you ascend the throne where you belong."

Although his face was calm, his tone wasn't. It was hard. "I have no intention of ever sitting on the throne of Serenia."

"You don't mean that!"

"Have you forgotten that my father had my birthright revoked?" he asked, the memory still hurting after all these years.

"Oh, pooh! No one cares about that! You were destined to ascend the throne and you shall!"

"I don't want to. The man Tohre appointed does a well enough job, I'm told. The people respect him and apparently care for him. Let him play monarch until I'm ready to destroy Tohre."

"The man who is sitting on the throne? Don't you know his name?" she inquired, laying her hand on his steel-like arm.

"I haven't cared enough to ask." He wished she wouldn't touch him.

"He isn't royalty. The people would prefer you to him." She raised her hand to his cheek, running her thumb along the vicious scars. "For this alone you deserve to take the throne."

He moved his head away from her. "What do you want, Raja?"

"Do I have to want something to visit you?"

He swung his legs to the floor. The nearness of Raja's loveliness was taking its toll on his senses. The woman might well be in her fifties, but she was still desirable, sensual. He was about to stand when he felt her hands on his shoulders.

"I knew they had beaten you, but to scar you in such a fashion is sacrilege!" She placed her lips on one deep, wavering line. "It hurts me to see this."

He looked around at her, hearing the grief in her voice, and was surprised to see twin tracks of moisture easing down her alabaster cheeks. It unnerved him. He would not have thought the woman capable of tears for anyone, not even herself. He saw, not the pity he imagined he'd find, but a great sadness.

"Do my tears surprise you?" she asked in a hollow, toneless confession. "Would it shock you to know that you are the only man I have ever cried for, Conar McGregor?"

"I can't imagine why," he answered, totally taken aback by her candor.

"You wouldn't." She brought his hand to her cheek, ran his fingers down her tearful flesh. "I have cried many tears over you, my beloved."

He eased his hand out of hers. "I asked you why you were here."

She looked at him, gauging his emotion, and when she realized he was looking at her with nothing but curiosity, she turned before he could see her anger. Her tone did not match her fury.

"When I was told Prince Conar McGregor was here, that he was alive, I wept with joy!" She looked up at him through her lashes and saw disbelief on his handsome face. "I did!"

"I'm glad," he answered dryly.

"I asked to be allowed to comfort you, to give you the happiness we had shared when we were together in Serenia."

"If memory my serves correctly, the last time we
shared
anything was when I was seventeen. That's a long while ago." He almost smiled, for the woman was as transparent as glass.

"That doesn't matter! I still have feelings for you! Occultus gave me his permission to come here tonight. I had every intention of succeeding where Se Huan had failed, but I can't deceive you like that. You have been hurt enough."

Conar had no idea what the woman was talking about. She'd never had any feelings for him other than lust. She'd never had feelings for anyone other than herself. Weeping with joy? Not damned likely! And what happiness had they shared? He supposed if you considered animalistic bouts of unrestrained coupling and violent sexual release happiness, then Raja DeLyle had been ecstatic! He, on the other hand, had been only mildly pleasured by her none-too gentle lovemaking. She had taught him how to please a woman, mainly her, but had given no thought to his pleasure.

And just what the hell did she mean when she said she meant to succeed where Se Huan had failed? Failed at what? He looked with astonishment at the tears falling down Raja's face, a face remarkably untouched by time's hand. She could well pass for a woman half her age. For some reason that annoyed him more than he could stand.

"Quit that infernal crying," he grumbled. "It's not becoming. It makes you look weathered."

"I really do love you," she swore, ignoring his insult.

She looked so miserable, but she'd always been a good actress. Her mood swings were legendary and one could always tell when she'd
initiated
another young boy, for Raja strutted about the keep like the cat who had eaten the canary.

Her avowal of loving him didn't ring true. If there was anything she might love more than herself—doubtful—it might have been his power and position, power and position she thought he would once again have.

"Hold me," she whimpered, reaching out to him.

"Raja…" Sighing, he pulled her into the comfort of his arms and rested his chin on the top of her head. He stroked the gleam of her golden hair as it cascaded down his chest. He had no delusions concerning her. She wanted something.

"It must have been so painful," she whispered, her hand running down his side, tracing the thick bands of scars on his flesh.

Her tears might be genuine for the scarring of a body she had once found beautiful, he thought, but her grief did not extend to the pain and suffering that had accompanied the scarring. "What was it Se Huan failed to do, Raja?"

"Occultus sent her to seduce you. To make you so mad with desire for her you would take her. It was his idea for her to ease you the way she did, the way you allowed her to do, but he wanted you to penetrate her."

Though her words shocked him, he didn't let on. Her plain way of speaking was so normal for her, he didn't dwell on the shock. "Why?"

"He believes you feel emasculated because of what happened to you." Her hands tightened on him. "They did that to you as a boy, too. The rape, I mean. I remember." Her cheek pressed into his cheek. "I remember holding you, comforting you."

He ground his teeth. "Why did he think me taking Se Huan would matter?"

"To force you to face your nightmares and overcome them. By tricking you into taking Se Huan, he thought the dreams would disappear." She looked at him through tear-drenched lashes. He was so astonished by her words, he failed to see the sly gleam in her eyes. "I told him you would not want to betray your wife with some stranger. I reminded him that your vows at the Joining were sacred to you. You are honorable. Taking just any woman would not be your way. If you wanted to make love to the girl, you would have. No one should try to force you into breaking your Joining just to prove you are still capable of screwing a woman."

A part of Conar raged at Occultus and his underhanded presumptions, but a part of him warmed to the knowledge that both Occultus and Se Huan had tried to help him. His face softened at the memory of Se Huan coming to him, offering herself the night before. She hadn't wanted anything for herself. Just for him. The girl had been genuine in her affection for him.

Unlike the whore plastered to him now.

"Conar?"

He looked down at her with irritation. "What?"

"I can make the dreams go away," she whispered seductively.

It was all he could do to keep his lip from curling. "The dreams will go away. I have them less frequently."

"That's not true and you know it. You were having one when I slipped into bed beside you." That wasn't true but he had no way of disputing her. "I am told they come every night and that your sleep is constantly interrupted. You cannot close your eyes without dreams taking over. Occultus feels this does your training harm. I agree."

He looked away. It was true the dreams were getting no better. They were getting worse, if anything. His lack of sleep would soon begin to undermine his health and he hesitated asking Xander for something to make him sleep. He wasn't even sure Occultus would allow such a drug in his system. Yet, he was powerless to keep the dreams at bay and his sleeplessness was taking its toll. It sapped his energy, destroyed his peace of mind and left him listless at times.

Raja put her hands on his shoulders and pulled, urging him to lean against her. She settled him close to her and put her arms around him. "Do you think making love would help?"

"I don't know, Raja."

"Do these dreams make you feel worthless?"

"They make me feel empty inside." His voice was lost, a mere whisper. It didn't matter that he was leaning against a woman he had never trusted, never even liked. He needed the comfort of a soft body and gave in to the warmth of hers.

"Tell me what's in your heart, Conar. Maybe speaking of it will help." She had always been good at getting Conar to voice his troubles, his most intimate thoughts, when he was younger. She knew she could again. She stroked his hair. "Talk to me, dearling. Tell me how you feel."

"There's nothing inside me
to
feel. There's a space where love once was, a gaping hole in my heart that was once filled with the sweetest of joys. There's only a memory of that love there now, a fading memory." He looked at her. "I loved her, Raja. She was everything in life to me. I swore to be faithful. I learned what it was to really
need
to be faithful to her. I betrayed her and I swore I would never do that again."

"I understand."

"I can't make love where love does not exist. To take a woman for the sake of taking her doesn't hold any allure for me anymore. Can't you see? I don't think I could have sex with anyone other than her, so what good would it do to try? Would failing make the nightmares stop or would it make them worse?"