WINDWEEPER (29 page)

"On a dead man?" Her teeth drew back in a feral snarl. "Haven't you done enough to him?"

An odd look passed over Galen's face, a look she didn't understand. "Somehow he will know I have won, Liza. I have his crown. I have his woman. I will have his child to bring up for all the world to know as my own. What better revenge?"

"Do you think me stupid?" she hissed. "You will badger and hurt this babe as you did its father! I will not allow it! I will fight you to the death!"

"Why does everyone think me such a bastard?"

"Because you are!"

He opened his mouth, but then clamped shut his lips to calm his temper. "The babe is flesh of my flesh whether I planted it in you or not. It will be my niece or nephew. I wouldn't hurt it for that reason alone."

"My daughter was killed—"

"Not by any of us!" he snapped. "Not by Tohre or Tolkan or me!"

"You admit to being a part of that filth?"

"Who do you think they took in Conar's place when you sent those men to free him, Liza?" he shouted. "Whose body do you think they tortured instead?" He shook her. "It was me, Liza! I suffered all the pain Conar did! I bled just like he did!" When she dropped her gaze, he let go of one of her arms to cup her chin and force up her head. "I stood outside that door listening to him scream and I know how hard he screamed! And, the gods help me, I now know why!"

She tried to jerk out of his grip. "Take your hands off me!"

"I tried to love him," he mumbled, more to himself than to her. "I really tried. But he wouldn't let me. He always hated me and he always will."

"You're insane!"

"I begged him to take me with him when they were leaving the monastery, but he wouldn't. He left me, Liza, knowing what they'd do to me!"

"He didn't leave you! Belvoir and Hern left you. Conar tried to make them stop, begged them not to leave you there, but they ignored him!" She fought against him, trying to get free. "They wanted you to suffer as you had helped him to suffer!"

Jaw dropping, Galen's face turned white as snow. He released her. "He didn't want me left there?"

"He might not have respected you, Galen, but Conar would have
never
wished such torment even on you! You were his brother, and in some twisted way, he cared for you!" She rubbed her wrist where his fingers had bruised her. "He told me he was going after you, but something happened that night. It was soon after our talk that he began to act so strangely, so irrational."

Galen knew why—the tenerse. "I didn't know," he mumbled, his entire being aching with a nameless pain.

Liza's mouth trembled. She was afraid for her unborn child. She had to make a devil's bargain with this man if it was the last thing she ever did. She was about to try when his voice, low and desperate stopped her.

"I would not harm one hair on this babe's head for fear of losing you as I lost its…" His gaze faltered along with his voice.

"What do you want from me?"

"Your love."

"That will always belong to Conar. No man will ever have what is his alone!"

"I know." For a moment, he looked away, but when his gaze returned, there was a warning in it. "You ask what I want? All right, I'll make a deal. Share my life, my bed. Pretend for all the world to see that you have some feeling for me. Show me respect; never betray me; never deceive me. In exchange, I will honor you and respect you and the babe. I will make sure no one and nothing comes close enough to do you harm." He lowered his voice. "My word means little to you, I know, but on my life I give you my word. I will never betray you to Tohre or anyone else."

"And if I meet your conditions?"

"No one need ever know the babe is his until you are ready for the world to know."

"And if I have conditions of my own?"

His face clouded; a tiny flicker of annoyance hovered there. He had not expected her to easily give in, but neither had he expected the vitriolic disgust on her lovely face as though she looked at vermin. He regarded her for quite some time. "Which are?"

"First, you will not bar my friends from this keep." Legion, Teal, Sentian, and Marsh had been kept away from the keep by official mandate; not that any of them would have come on their own. They made their feelings known on the day she returned to accept Galen's marriage proposal. Conar's friends and brother now thought of her as a traitor and left for Ivor Keep before the actual vows were spoken. Legion sent a letter telling her of his shock and displeasure. Sentian sent word via Hern that he would like to be relieved of his obligations as her Sentinel, something she denied him; but she had not seen nor heard from the young man since.

"They will be allowed here if they want to come," Galen answered. "I'm not sure you will ever see them here, though." He didn't like the idea of Conar's cronies near enough to do him harm, especially Sentian Heil. But he knew the men could be controlled if need be. After all, Brelan Saur was about somewhere in the keep. He had been the only one among them to have anything to do with Liza since the wedding. Galen had to give the man his due. He had neither said, nor done, anything in disrespect to Galen. "Anything else?"

"If I am to share your life and your"—she nearly choked on the word—"bed, then I will have some pleasures in this life." When he reluctantly nodded, she went on. "I will have you know, I will
not
share the same room or table with Kaileel Tohre!"

"I understand. What else?"

"I will visit my parents when I wish, without you. They have no care for you." Her chin rose.

"Agreed." He didn't care for them either. "Provided Brelan accompanies you."

She stared at him. Surely Galen didn't know how his half-brother felt about her, she thought, else he would not trust him. "There is one last thing."

Galen sighed. "And that is?"

She leaned toward him, putting her face close to his. Her eyes bore into his like the flames of the deepest pit in hell. "I will have your word, on the crown of Serenia, which means more to you than anything else, that you will never revile Conar to his babe." Determination twisted her face. "Nor let anyone else ever do so."

Galen smiled sadly. "The man is gone. He's no threat to me, now." He stood and held out his hand. "I have no reason to even speak of him again."

"I will have your word, Galen McGregor!" she said, ignoring his gesture.

He hunkered beside her and put a hand on her shoulder, felt her tense like a coiled spring. He looked into her eyes. "I will never open my mouth to malign him to his child. Nor will I allow anyone else to do so. If this babe should ask about my brother, I will say nothing that is not true."

"And that truth being what?"

"That he was a good man; a good husband to you; and a good father to his children. He was a brave, respected man, and he had the love of his people."

"And when you speak of his death?"

"I will say my brother died as bravely as he lived."

Liza's mouth turned hard. "Never hurt anyone I care about ever again. Do you understand?"

Her determined look as he rose told him everything he would ever need to know about this woman. She was fiercely loyal to those she cared about. He held out his hand to help her up and was surprised when she clasped it. "I understand, Milady."

Her next words stunned him.

"I know as surely as we are standing here that you helped Tohre destroy your brother. No one else but you could have done so. No one else. For that, I will hate you until the day I die and beyond. But to keep my babe, Conar's babe, safe, I would whore with the devil himself!" She walked past him and lay on the bed, pulling the coverlet over her shoulders, turning her back on him.

Galen wanted to adjust the covers over her, to climb into bed with her, to tell her he loved her, but he didn't. He knew she wouldn't care.

Instead, he walked to the window and drew back the curtain. He stood still, not seeing anything outside in the golden glow of moonlight, not caring even if the next day came. His thoughts were beyond the rising sun that would soon break the horizon. His thoughts were on Conar's last moments in the Interrogation Facility.

It had been the next to the last time Galen had spoken to his brother. Conar was sitting in one of the inquisition cells. A guard had belted a wide leather strap around Conar's chest, manacled his wrists and ankles to the chair, firmly securing him.

Galen had accompanied Kaileel into the chamber, but at first Conar didn't see his twin. His attention was on Tohre as the High Priest went to stand before him.

"I have something for you," Tohre said. He held up a vial of tenerse. "You know what it is?"

Conar nodded, finally seeing Galen. A faint smile flitted over his tired face. "You've won, Galen," he said quietly. "Are you happy?"

Tohre knelt in front of Conar. "The pain will be much less if you take this. All you need do is beg me for it."

Galen stepped closer, the better to hear his brother's words. Neither he nor Tohre were surprised when Conar shook his head.

"My days of begging are over, Kaileel," Conar whispered.

Now, thinking back on it, Galen realized Conar had accepted his fate, surrendered to it with what appeared to be calm acceptance.

"As you wish," Kaileel had replied, inclining his head. "But there is one last matter that must be settled before you are taken outside."

Conar sighed wearily. "What?"

Tohre turned to Galen, who came to stand directly before Conar.

"Do you remember your Joining day, brother?" Galen asked.

A shadow of sorrow flitted across Conar's pale face. "You know I do."

"And do you remember what I promised you?"

When Conar shook his head, Galen knew his brother had stopped caring about anything.

Galen squatted beside Conar. "You don't remember?"

"I'm sure you'll remind me."

"I promised the day would come when you would go to your knees before me. Do you remember?"

A faint glimmer of defiance entered those tired blue eyes, but disappeared as quickly as it came.

"Do you remember?" Galen pressed.

"Aye," Conar finally acknowledged. "I remember something of it."

Galen smiled. "That day has come."

Once more the light flickered in those azure orbs. "What is it you want, Galen?"

"Do you remember me saying you would beg for mercy, beg me to let you die, and I would not give you even that last comfort?"

"I'll do neither. If you ever thought I would, you are a bigger fool than I imagined."

"I have," Galen said, pulling a sheet of folded paper from his tunic, "a signed confession, sworn to before six of the Tribunal judges, in the presence of Brother Tohre and myself." He unfolded the sheet and turned it so Conar could see the writing.

Conar looked at the paper, recognized the distinctive handwriting of one of the condemned Elite who would be hanged.

"Did you read it?"

Conar didn't answer, jus stared intently at Galen.

"Shall Galen read it for you?" Tohre asked.

"He knows what it says, don't you, brother?" Galen leaned forward. "I am offering her safety. They will charge her with treason if you don't do what I want."

Conar looked at Galen for a long time. He searched his brother's face for even one sign of compassion and found none. Then the proud head bowed, the strong shoulders slumped. He was beaten and knew it. In the end, he humbled himself. Though he could not go to his knees due to his retraints, he begged—not for mercy, not for his life—but for Liza's protection.

It was at that moment Galen understood, as he never had before, the king of a man his brother was. Conar didn't care what they did to him, where they sent him, whether he lived or died. All he cared about was his beloved wife's safety.

"She's yours, Galen," he whispered. "I give her to you."

Galen would never understand why he took his brother's face into his hands and forged his lips to Conar's. "I will care for her just as you have," Galen promised.

"I know you will…"

Now, looking out the bedroom window, Galen could almost feel Conar's presence.

"You never had a choice, my brother." He hung his head. "Neither of us did."

Brelan sat in the walled garden of Boreas Keep, his mind on the bright stars just beginning to dim in the pre-dawn sky. He could hear the muted ring of laughter from the kitchens as Sadie told a vulgar joke to one of her serving wenches. The laughter irritated him, rubbed his nerves raw.

Abruptly, he stood and paced, barely aware of where he was or what he did. He hardly saw the winter-ravaged garden's flowers, falsely decorated with borrowed blooms, or smell their heady fragrance. It had been Liza's choice of a wedding site. Although Liza had most strenuously objected, Tohre performed the ceremony—he could not force Liza to marry in the same place where she had wed Conar, but he still managed to be the one to tie her to Galen.

Brelan swore. Grasping a dying blossom in his hand, he crushed it, scattering its wilted leaves and petals about the stone pathway. His heart ached at the thought of the wedding between his beloved Elizabeth and the fool to whom he was related by a burst of lust.

Although he was out in the frigid air, he felt suffocated, unable to draw breath into his tight lungs, as breathless as Conar must have felt when locked in the armoire as a child. A raging pain flared in his temple. He'd never had headaches. Why, now, these debilitating, horribly, blinding pains above his right eye? So like those Conar had experienced since childhood.

"
Why?
" he hissed to the gods, who surely must have been laughing. His hands clenched into fists. He slumped down on the fountain's rim and squeezed his eyes shut, blotting out the image of Elizabeth standing beside Galen, taking her vows, having Galen's marriage bracelet placed upon her for all the world to see. With a violent curse, Saur covered his face with his hands and drew in a hard, unsteady breath of cold air.

"Lord Brelan?"

"I don't wish to be disturbed!" he shot back.

Gezelle drew her shawl tighter around her, took courage from her love for Liza, and stood before the man who sat with one booted foot swinging in angry frustration.

Brelan looked up as she came into the light of the blossoming sun seeping through denuded tree branches. He opened his mouth to admonish her, but upon seeing her determined expression, a look far too reminiscent of Liza's stubborn visage, he waited impatiently for her to speak.

"You do know why she married him, don't you?"

"Do you?" he snapped.

"She would have told
you
if no one else, Lord Brelan. She has told me many times that she trusts you. Can I?" Gezelle queried, her eyes searching his in the spreading light.

"Who else knows?" he asked, massaging his eye.

"Hern."

Brelan snorted. "That old bastard knows everything."

"He wouldn't tell a living soul." She pulled the shawl around her neck and tucked her chin into the wool. The air was colder than she expected.

"Go inside, mam'selle," he warned. "There is nothing we can do. I will protect her as best I can. Galen trusts me, since he knows I bore no love for our brother. He won't make me leave as he did Legion and the others."

Gezelle stared, but didn't speak. Feelings, fleeting, yet powerful, had spread over her that day when, from the balcony, she saw Legion and Brelan removing Conar from the whipping post in the square. For an instant, she had watched a revealing emotion cross Brelan's face as he looked at the tortured body of his younger brother. Gezelle had known, even if he had not, the feeling had been love in its purest form.

"Do you think she has done the right thing, Gezelle?" he asked, a sad, worried look on his handsome face.

"As she sees it, aye, Milord. I know how much this marriage sickens you; it sickens me. But there was no other way if the babe was to be kept safe. He will dote on the child."

Brelan's face turned hard with suspicion. "How can you be sure?"

"The morning after their wedding, he boasted to several of his guards that he believed he had gotten his wife with child, made bets on how soon an heir would be born." There was a bitter tone in her voice. She turned away, her face furious.

"Sooner than he thinks!" He stared at Liza's window. Light flooded from the bedchamber.

"He is watching us," Gezelle said softly.

"Let him," Brelan snapped. He plowed a hand through his dark hair. "Damn his evil soul to the pit! Couldn't he have had the decency to take another room when he married her?"

"What better revenge than enjoying the same bed in which to take his brother's woman?" Her voice was thick with disgust. "She wanted another room, but he would not allow it."

"The son-of-a-bitch wants everything that ever belonged to Conar! Maybe he would like the same kind of death!"

"Come inside, Lord Brelan," she advised. "You will get sick out here."

"I don't give a damn!"

"But she will."

Brelan stood where he was, gazing up at the window. When the light was finally bright over the garden and people began to mill about inside the keep, Gezelle firmly took his arm and ushered him toward the garden door.

* * *

Kaileel Tohre sat at his desk, his fingers laced together under his chin. He stared into the distance beyond his chambers, seeing a land of dry, cracked earth. Waterless; windless; vacant; unbearably hot. Tumbling bushes rolled over a sandscape of blistering heat and came to rest along tall sculptures of bleak rock.

Venomous life crawled and slithered along the surface of the miles and miles of shimmering sand, hiding away along the tall rocks, sinking into hidden holes and trapdoors to spring forth and kill and maim and destroy. Overhead, vultures circled, swooping down on innocent prey, clutching and rending with their sharp talons, shredding with vicious beaks. A dry, hot smell of death lingered over the land.

Opening his fingers, Kaileel rubbed at his tired eyes, plowed the long, sharp nails through his blond hair. He perspired as though he had just trekked across that arid wasteland. His flesh felt hot, blinded by the brilliance of the sun's harsh light. His mouth was dry and his tongue thick.

"I will not cry for you," he said, lips trembling. He pressed a hand over his mouth, speaking through his fingers. "I will not cry for you ever again!"

But he knew he would. Just as he had cried many times over the years because the boy had not returned his affections.

From the moment he first saw Conar McGregor, he had loved the boy. Even as an infant lying in his bassinet, the promise of the power within that small body was evident. The child's aura resonated with immense potential and that potential could be molded in either light or dark hues. It was up to the one who was the strongest teacher to cast the spirit of the infant.

Legend had foretold the coming of the Chosen One, the Dark Overlord, and one look at the slumbering babe had made it all so clear to Kaileel: he must be the boy's teacher, his instructor in the ways of the Dark Ones, his guide on the Lefthand Pathway.

Biding time was hard. He stood aside as the child's useless mother had tried to instill the precepts of good within that promising young body. Her meddling had signed her death warrant.

"Why couldn't you love me, my prince?" Kaileel whispered. "Why did you turn away?"

Aye, he had been harsh with the boy at the Abbey. It was the way of the Brotherhood. The pain, the mental torture, the physical and spiritual degradation had to occur for the dark powers to come to the forefront, to overshadow the goodness that was inherent at the child's birth.

"I did everything for you. I gave you every opportunity to come to me, return my favor, and what did you do, Conar?" The priest sobbed. "You threw it back in my face! Scorned my love. Despised the hand that tried to lift you above the mundane!"

Kaileel got up and walked to the window overlooking the Punishment Yard. He stared at the whipping post, seeing his beloved Conar lashed to the upright, blood streaming down his torn back.

"Do you think I wanted that to happen, Beloved? If you had come to me, shown me even a small measure of affection, I would have spared you the agony."

A portion of Kaileel's mind knew that was a lie. He had physically enjoyed watching Conar suffer. All hope of the boy ever returning his love had fled by then, to be replaced with a vicious need to hurt Conar. He had wanted to scourge the stubborn refusal to love him in return from Conar's heart. Instead, he had broken the spirit and the young man's heart and knew beyond any doubt that all chance of Conar ever coming to him was gone.

But that did not stop Kaileel Tohre from loving Conar McGregor.

Or mourning him.

* * *

The two Temple guards stationed outside Tohre's door were startled by the wails coming from within the office. The sound of furniture and glass breaking galvanized them into action.

When they opened the door, they were stunned to see the priest standing in the center of the room, rending his garments and gouging long bloody furrows into his arms and chest.

Shocked, they watched Tohre pull viciously at his hair, tugging handfuls from his scalp.

"Conar!" he screamed as though in agony, then dropped to the floor in a heap. "Beloved," Tohre whimpered. "My beloved."

The guards looked at one another and closed the door, shutting out the sight of the priest curled in a fetal position, his thumb in his mouth like an infant.

* * *

"Galen!" she screamed. "Wake up! Wake up!"

He jerked awake, staring wildly, his breath heaving. He buried his face against her chest. "I dreamed about him, Liza," he whispered as though he were afraid to be heard.

She stiffened. She did not like having him plastered to her, but she could feel the wild thump of his heart against her ribcage and knew he was experiencing sheer terror. Sweat soaked his body. She didn't have to ask of whom he'd dreamed. They had been through this before. His dreams had come more frequently just as hers had begun fading.

"I saw him so clearly!"

"And was he in pain, Galen?" In his dreams, Conar was always in pain.

He raised his head. When his eyes met hers, they were stark in his pale face. "I am as much to blame as Kaileel for what happened to my brother."

Liza wanted to spit in his face. Every night for the last trimester of her pregnancy, Galen had been having these nightmares. It was sometimes nearly an hour before he came back to himself. Tonight, she sensed, would be no different.

"He was in such pain, Liza. Such terrible pain!"

Her nerves stretched as fine as a gossamer web of silk. "He doesn't feel anything anymore, Galen. He's beyond feeling anything, anymore."

He misunderstood her words. "Maybe you're right."

Liza bit into her lip. "Stop talking about it." She shoved him away and flung back the covers.

"Liza, please! You have to listen!"

"You listen to me!" She thrust her arms into the sleeves of her robe hard enough to tear open the seams. "Stop doing this. Do you hear? No more, Galen! I mean it!"

"I didn't know he had tried to protect me at the Abbey." Galen's eyes searched the coverlet as though he were scanning a roadmap. "If I had known, I could have warned him about what the Brotherhood had planned. He could have been safe on Montyne Cay. He—"

She covered her ears with her hands. "Stop doing this!"

Galen jumped from the bed and ran to her. "I did love him. By the gods, I still love him!"

She screamed as loud as she could, and kept screaming until Brelan and Hern burst into the room and pushed Galen away from her.

"What happened?" Hern snarled as he pinned the young Prince against the fireplace.

Galen shrugged. He had been trying to quiet her.

Brelan shook her. "Elizabeth? Elizabeth? Stop it!" He shook her again, mindful of her advancing pregnancy. "Stop it!"

"Prick!" Hern snarled, grabbing Galen by the collar of his nightshirt. "What did you do?"

Brelan managed to pull Liza's hands from her ears, caught sight of her strained face just as her eyes rolled back in her head and she collapsed against him. "Get Cayn!" he bellowed, lifting her into his arms and hurrying her to the bed.

Hern ran from the room, his voice shaking the windowpanes as he bellowed for the healer.

Galen couldn't seem to move. He stared at Brelan as the man rubbed Liza's hands.

"Pray she'll be all right," Brelan sneered, glaring at Galen. "Or you won't live 'til morning."

"I don't know what I did," Galen whispered.

A muscle bunched in Brelan's cheek. "Find another room to sleep in!"

Galen nodded as Cayn rushed through the door and shouted for the men to leave. Galen was the first to do so. He took the stairs to the lower level and disappeared.

* * *

Galen awakened from a dream too terrible to remember, but it left him with a sense of such helplessness and hopelessness that he was physically ill. His entire body burned as though he had walked through fire. Drenched in his sour sweat, he sat up in the bed he had used as a youth. He hadn't slept with Liza since the night she had almost miscarried. Her room—Conar's old room—was down the hall, and he often went there to speak with her during the day, spending time with her since she had been confined to her bed until the babe was born.

"I can't go on like this," he whispered to himself. "I can't."

The room was stifling with heat, although the fire had died in the grate. The air was thick, humid, pressing down on him. Sweat rolled down his sides, into his eyes, over his upper lip. He could barely move, for his body was sore beyond belief and tired beyond words.

He lay down and buried his face in the relative cool of his pillow, clutching it to him as though he were close to drowning. With a suddenness that nearly drove him insane with fear, something hot and searing fell across his shoulders and back. He gasped with the terrible pain of it.

He bolted upright, pushing his burning back against the headboard, his arms thrown over his face. He could feel sticky moisture running down his back, his sides, pooling beneath his rump.

"Kill me," he said. "Go ahead and kill me this time."

Something moved. A dark shadow against the lighter darkness of the far corner. Slowly he stared into the vacant room as though the hounds of hell were snarling after him.