WindSeeker (45 page)

you drop
!" He grabbed his son’s chin, forcing up his head so their eyes were locked. "
When I speak,

you will afford me the simple courtesy of at least pretending you are listening
!"

"I hear you, Highness," Conar said, his voice thick with emotion.

Gerren back brought his hand as though he was going to slap his son. The boy never blinked. The King

lowered his hand. "Shut your mouth!"

Conar’s jaw clenched tightly, a muscle jumping furiously in his right cheek, but he didn’t speak. He knew

he had better not. He thought perhaps his father would strangle him if he attempted to do so. He had

never seen the man in such a state, and he knew he never wanted to again.

"I am appalled! Appalled! I mistakenly thought you to be an adult, with the reasoning power of an adult

and the good sense of one. But this latest debacle is more than I can bear. I didn’t think Cayn dropped

you on your head when he delivered you, but he must have. I have grave doubts as to your mental

capacities!" He shoved his son toward an overstuffed chair and told him to sit. When Conar hesitated,

mainly to save Legion’s fabric from becoming bloodstained, Gerren pushed the young man as hard as he

could and Conar landed with a groan of pain. The chair tipped backward, but the King grabbed the arms

and brought the legs down. The hard thump elicited another groan.

"Brelan is back in Oceania." The King watched the fury leap instantly in his son’s face. "I have it on good

authority King Shaz will offer Liza’s hand to Brelan once the annulment has gone through." Again there

was a leap of barely restrained fury. "At your request, and at the advice of your brother and Hern, I let

the matter drop concerning Brelan, since I felt it would make the Tribunal suspicious if I had him brought

here to answer to me. I didn’t send for your wife for the same reason, but I told you then and I will tell

you now—that was a singularly stupid thing to do. A dangerous mistake." He gripped the arms of the

chair, leaning into his son’s face. "She should have been brought back by you. I wondered why you

didn’t go." He straightened up. "
Now
, I know why!"

Conar held his father’s stare. "May I speak?"

"No! How long this has been going on I can only guess. I knew you were screwing her before your

marriage." He was rewarded with a look of sheer surprise. "Oh, I know things you and your brother

would prefer I didn’t. You two aren’t nearly as clever as you think!" He crossed his arms over his chest.

"I would imagine this is your way of getting back at Liza for her supposed unfaithfulness. I refuse to

believe the girl has done anything wrong."

"Believe what you will."

King Gerren moved with a lithe grace that belied his years. Once more his hands went to the arms of

Conar’s chair, his nose almost touching his son’s. His voice was a soft, quiet whisper. "Open your mouth

one more time when I am speaking and I will shut it for you in such a way you will not be able to do

more than sip your meals through a hollow reed!"

He knew when his father meant business and he knew he was on the verge of having his teeth knocked

out. He let his gaze drop from his father’s in defeat. It had been three days since he had had a drink, and

he desperately needed one now.

"Good," Gerren said, satisfied with the submission he had finally exacted. "You are to leave for Oceania

this afternoon. The Boreas Wind is in port and can take you there in less than five days. And when you

reach Oceania, you will collect your wife and bring her home. There will be no excuses, no more delays.

You will escort her here as her loving and devoted husband, and you will remain at her side, faithful and

attentive. Do you understand?" He saw his son nod. "You have no need to pack. Everything will be sent

to the ship. The faster you get to Seadrift, the faster you can bring my daughter and grandchild back to

me." He pushed away from the chair and stared at Conar’s bent head. "Is all that clear to you? Or do I

need repeat it?"

"No, Highness. I will do as you say."

"Then get yourself out of my sight!"

Conar stood and walked to the door, although he wanted to run. He managed to square his shoulders

and raise his chin, but he felt far from proud.

Something about the arrogant stiffness of his son’s shoulders brought out the worst in the King. He

yelled for his son to stop. Having Conar turn what he saw as hostile, unforgiving eyes to him only made

matters worse.

"I had long wondered why Gezelle spent so much time with you in your chambers. Stupid fool that I

was, I never once considered you could be about the evil that you were. I trusted you. I believed in you.

And you have destroyed both my trust and respect for you." He fixed his son with a red-hot stare of

disgust. "I would not have thought you capable of such great evil like your brother Galen, but it seems

you are cast from the same mold. I am inclined to believe you have developed as great a love for the

bottle as he has. So, I will see to it that not one drop of liquor will be on board the Boreas Wind. None.

You will have to find your courage elsewhere."

His father’s remark stung Conar. "May I go now?"

Gerren waved an imperious hand, but his next words were spoken with deadly promise. "If you ever

again try to fuck a woman other than your wife, I will geld you. Understand?"

"Perfectly."

Conar’s bare feet made slapping sounds as he made his way back to his room. His face burned with his

rage at being chastened like a small boy. He was blind to everything around him and his vision was

blurred with a hazy red fog of humiliation. He didn’t see Kaileel Tohre until the man’s hard grip fastened

around his upper arm.

He didn’t question how Tohre came to be in his room, how he had gotten past Legion. All he knew was

the bastard was there.

"You could be brought before the Tribunal for what you have done. They would do more than bloody

your backside. They’d lay open your back with barbed whips." Conar jerked on the hold, but Tohre’s

hand tightened.

"Let go, Kaileel."

"I shall not tell them what you have done." Tohre’s hawk-like gaze swept over Conar’s nakedness. He

licked his lips. "Come to me and I will protect you."

With a snarl of rage, Conar brought up his free hand and pried Kaileel’s fingers from him. "Tell them,

you bastard, and be done with it! I’d rather be strapped to the whipping post than be at your mercy!"

"You would like that, wouldn’t you? You think then you’d be free of me?" Kaileel stepped closer. "You

will never be free of me! When will you ever learn that, Conar?"

"I am going after my wife. She and I will send you to the hell you deserve!"

Kaileel’s lips tightened. "Shall I go to your father and tell him how many hands have been on you, my

prince?" The voice was a croon of vengeance, sweeping over Conar like crawling maggots. He twisted

the dagger deeper. "Shall I recount to him how many times your thighs were spread for those of your

own kind?"

White-hot fury flashed across Conar’s face. His fist lashed out, catching Tohre squarely on the pointy

chin. He beamed with satisfaction as the High Priest crashed against the wall and slid down it. With fists

clenching and unclenching at his sides, he hoped Tohre would come at him, but the man remained on the

floor, glowering. Tohre’s face darkened with a nameless evil that snapped through the air like fire.

"I have tried with you, boy." Kaileel pushed himself. "I have done everything I could to show you I loved

you."

Conar laughed, a laugh filled with sinister intent. "You are insane."

"If you go after that slut, if you bring her back, I promise you more pain than you will be able to endure!"

He fingered the bruise forming on his chin. "I will cease my protection of you."

"Do what you will. I have the power to take you on now." One tawny brow rose in challenge. "You gave

me the power. Remember?"

"And it can be taken away!" Kaileel shouted. "Will you have everyone know how you came by such

power?"

Tohre was not prepared for the wrath that lunged at him, gripping his neck with enough force to snap it.

Conar slammed him against the wall and held him there. Tohre had only a moment’s satisfaction that,

even though the young prince had consumed no tenerse in three days, there was still enough residual

amounts in his system to cause the violent anger.

"Don’t threaten me, Tohre! One more word out of you and I swear I’ll find a way to silence your filthy

mouth forever!" He grabbed the High Priest’s arm and yanked open his door, thrust the stumbling man

into the hall, and slammed the door in his face.

"You will regret this!" Kaileel shouted. "As Raphian is my Lord and Master, and yours, I will see you

regret this!"

* * *

four. Conar glanced at the limp sheeting and ground his teeth. With no wind, it would be five long days to

Seadrift Keep, the Oceanian capital.

Anything over five days would see the marriage dissolved and Liza’s hand in Brelan Saur’s. With a

curse, he kicked at the ship’s hull and lowered his head.

"She’ll be happy to see you," Sentian said as he put his hand on the prince’s shoulder.

Conar shook his head, his voice bitter. "About as happy as my father was to see me leave?"

A hardy boom rang out of Sentian Heil. "This is where you need to be."

"Do I?"

"You need to be with her and she needs to be with you."

He looked into the affectionate dark orbs, searched the Elite’s warm gaze, and then made a decision

that might cost him dearly. "I need someone to talk to, Sentian."

"I am here."

"Someone who will listen with an open mind. Who won’t judge me. Who will understand and not hate

me for the things I have done."

Sentian smiled. "I could never hate you."

"It’s about what happened to me at the Abbey. If even one of my enemies came by this information…"

Sentian looked about them. "Who is there here, but you and I? What you say to me, stays with me."

Conar’s face crinkled with pain. "I need to talk to someone so badly."

"Talk to me."

Brelan held Liza’s hand as they walked along the beach. It was only a matter of fifteen minutes or so

before sunset. The time at which her marriage would cease to be. She was silent, her head lowered

against the blazing sun that washed over them at eye level. Its fiery splendor as it sank into the ocean was

like a beacon calling out to her to watch.

She couldn’t.

Walks along this beach, reading late into the night by the fireplace, picnics next to the high waterfall near

Fealst, the capital city of Oceania, had occupied the last week of Liza’s married life. She and Brelan

were comfortable in one another’s presence, and their relationship had grown daily. Her confidence and

trust in him was evident in the way she leaned against his arm as they walked. Little or nothing was ever

said about Conar or the situation in which Liza found herself. Talk was mostly of the scenery, the people

they encountered, the food they ate, the books they read to one another. It was an innocuous time; it was

a desperate time.

They had just climbed the largest dune near Creel Point when Liza shaded her eyes and spied the figure

of a man above them on the next dune. Recognizing her brother Grice, she waved, letting go of Brelan’s

hand. She started to descend the dune to meet Grice at the trough were the two dunes met. He gathered

her in his outstretched arms, holding her gently, for the mound of her belly prohibited him from holding

her as he would have liked.

"When did you get back from Chale?" she asked, laughing. "I thought you would be another two weeks

or so."

Brelan smiled as he joined them at the base of the larger dune. "She’s been chomping at the bit waiting

for you to return. You’d think the little Sweeting has missed you."

Grice tweaked her nose and kissed her forehead. "I got back just over an hour ago. The talks went well

and we start shipping our material to Tyne on the first of October." He rubbed the protrusion of her

stomach. "Just in time for his arrival, I should think."

Grice smiled as he hugged her again, looking over her head at Brelan. Something in that look made

Brelan furrow his brow.

"Your trip was uneventful, then?" Brelan asked, plumbing the charged atmosphere that was making the

hair on his arms stand up. "You didn’t encounter any hostiles along the way?"

"Not on the way to Chale, no."

"Does that mean you did elsewhere?"

Grice ignored his friend and cupped his sister under her chin. "We have guests and Mother asked me to

find you."

"Guests?" Her face lit up with pleasure. "Who?" Just as quickly her expression turned dull. The look on

her brother’s face meant it was no one he was particularly happy to see.

Once more Grice looked at Brelan, who felt his spine growing taut. A muscle jumped in his cheek as

Grice nodded in affirmation to his friend’s unvoiced question. He turned so Liza nor Grice could see his

disappointment.

"Guests who shouldn’t be kept waiting!" Grice teased. "You go ahead. I need to speak with Bre." He

swatted her ample backside as she left them.

Liza had disappeared down the other side of the smaller dune before Brelan could find his voice. "When