WinterofThorns (25 page)

“Doesn’t matter how he feels. If he ever
touches her again, I’ll kill him,” Seyzon told his father.

“And as the Heir-Apparent, you could get
away with it without as much as a slap on the wrist,” the king said. “Something
for Vindan to think about.”

“He’d best think about it.”

“So, the friendship is dead,” the king
observed. “And no chance for you two to bond as the brothers you are.”

“I want nothing to do with him,” Seyzon
replied. “I intend to make Selwyn my home. He can rule Meiraman without
worrying about me interfering. Once the laws are as Kellan and the Burgon want
them and the border situation settled, Vindan can be the big shit all he
likes.”

“But…” The king cocked a brow. “Should he
attempt to invade Selwyn or cause trouble, you’ll wrest the crown from me.”

“I’ve no desire to be king but if Vindan
should ever be stupid enough to declare war against us, then, aye. I’ll take
the crown and ships his ass to Tyber’s Isle.”

“Not Utuk Xul?”

“I wouldn’t send my worst enemy to that
vile hellhole,” Seyzon responded.

“The difference between you and your
brother.”

“I’m a better man than he will ever be.”

The king smiled. “Aye, Seyzon. I can see
that you are.”

“He has…” Seyzon swallowed. “Pooped.” His
nose crinkled, he held his son away from him, looking down at his lap at the
dark stain on his pants. “And it has run out of the side of his diaper.”

“Then change him,” Jana said.

Seyzon looked around but there was no one
to come to his aid. The nursemaid had gone into the keep to fetch a clean gown
for the little boy that was partaking of his mid-afternoon meal at his mother’s
breast.

“Ch-change him?” Seyzon repeated. His
eyebrows drew together. “How do I—?”

“Lay him on the blanket, push up his gown
and remove his soiled diaper,” she instructed.

Seyzon made a funny noise in the back of
his throat then gently laid his son Dane on the blanket. Picking up the hem of
the baby’s gown with his thumbs and index fingers, his face filled with a look
that mirrored a bomb technician’s.

Jana watched him as she shifted Dane’s
twin, Thane, more comfortably against her.

“It’s just used food, Seyzon,” Jana said.

“Aye but it’s stinky used food,” he said.
He released the sticky tabs on either side of his son’s diaper, drew in a deep
breath then peeled the top section of the garment away from the babe. He gagged
when he saw the black mess that was smeared over his son’s scrotum and tiny
penis.

“Oh, for the love of Alel, Zonny,” Jana
said with exasperation. “There’s nothing in his diaper that is going to—”

Dane took that moment to finish evacuating
his afternoon load by peeing straight up into his father’s startled face.

“Shit!” Seyzon shouted, flinging his head
to one side, which sent the urine trickling down his neck and under the collar
of his T-shirt.

“No, that’s piss,” his uncle said as he
came strolling over to where Seyzon and Jana sat.

“Oh, Zonny, if you could see your face!”
Jana said, shaking with laughter.

Seyzon exhaled hard. “It’s not funny. He
didn’t pee on you!”

“No, but he has,” Jana said. “Many times.”

“You don’t pee on your father, Dane Zell
Montyne!” Seyzon said, shaking a finger at his laughing son. It was almost as
though the infant knew what he’d done.

“Get up, lad,” Kellan said. “Let me do it.”

“No,” Jana stated. “He has to learn,
milord. He needs to know how to change his son’s diaper.”

“We have maids for that,” Seyzon said,
stripping out of his shirt. He blotted his face with the garment then ran it
down his chest where the baby’s pee had dripped.

“Change the diaper, Seyzon,” Jana ordered.

She watched him as Kellan walked him
through lifting the baby’s kicking legs to wipe the poop from his little pink
fanny. All the while her husband was trying not to gag. She had to admit the
smell was a bit riper than usual but strained peas tended to do that to the
twins.

“Where did you learn to be an expert at
diapering, milord?” she asked Kellan.

“Here and there,” he said. When she arched
a brow at him, he shook his head. “None were mine.” He grinned. “That I know
of.”

With Dane freshly diapered, Seyzon settled
down. His son had hold of his finger and when the boy brought it to his mouth
to begin suckling on it, Seyzon laughed. “I think he wants that other boob,
milady.”

“Here,” she said, easing her nipple from
Thane’s mouth. “He’s had enough. I’ll swap you.”

Seyzon frowned. “He’s got a load in there,
doesn’t he?”

“Indeed he does.” She handed the boy to his
father.

Kellan sat down on the grass beside them
then stretched out on his side with his head propped in his hand. “Let’s see
what you learned, brat,” he told Seyzon.

“Don’t you have something kingly to do?”
Seyzon asked.

“Not until four of the clock.” Kellan
glanced at Jana. “That’s when your brother-in-law arrives.”

Seyzon looked up from taking off Thane’s
diaper. “Vindan is coming here to Blackhall?” At Kellan’s nod, he asked why.

“He has found a woman he wishes to make his
wife,” Kellan said. “He is bringing her to meet us so we may decide whether or
not to give our blessing.”

“I hate that royal we speak,” Seyzon
snapped as he hiked his son’s legs to wipe at the dark mass clinging to his
left cheek.

“That’s the way kingy-poop speaks so we
must needs speak the like,” Kellan said in a stiff, formal tone. “Else Little
Poop will know we are not his father.”

“He’s going to find out sooner or later,”
Seyzon said as he got the new diaper on Thane.

“The Burgon will let us know when the time
is right to inform him. At that time, we will turn our crown over to him.”

“How is King Nolan doing in Chrystallus?”
Jana asked. She winced, for Dane was chomping hard on her nipple with his
toothless gums.

“Better than Berty is,” Kellan said with a
chuckle. “Neither she nor her daughters like living on a world where women are
second-class citizens and treated so. Their husbands, however, find it a vast
improvement. If the women get out of line, they could be sent to what the
Chrystallusian fondly call a reinforcement retreat where they are reminded they
are the weaker sex and under the iron rule of their husbands and father.”

“I’m sure Magdalene is enjoying the hell
out of that.” Seyzon smirked.

“Never met any of my nieces but I hear
she’s the worst of the lot,” Kellan said.

“I’ve only met two and that was back when
we were teenagers. Mags is a bitch and a half and she hated Vin almost as much
as she hated me,” Seyzon told him.

“Well, then fair play, mate,” Kellan said.
“She’s getting what she deserves.” He reached over to tickle Thane on the
chest. The baby arched his little head back to look at his great uncle then
blew bubbles with his tiny pink lips before giggling.

“Silly gooselet,” Kellan said as Dane
stuffed his chubby toes into his mouth.

“Why do little boys put things in their
mouths that little girls would never dream of doing?” Jana asked.

“If they could reach what they’d really
like to stuff in their mouths, you girls would be in big trouble,” Seyzon
quipped.

The nursemaid returned with clean gowns for
both boys—effectively cutting off whatever Jana would have replied. The
middle-aged woman took a sleeping Thane from his mother’s arms.

“We are outta here,” Kellan said. “The country
won’t govern itself.” He dusted off his pants. “We’d like you there when I meet
with Vindan.”

“Why?” Seyzon asked, his expression saying
he wasn’t thrilled with the idea.

“We have our reasons.”

Seyzon had not spoken to his brother since
Vindan had ordered him back to Lavenfeld to send Jana to Wicklow. Nor had he
seen the man who had caused him so much trouble and grief.

“I’m not sure I won’t knock out a few of
his teeth the moment I lay eyes on him,” Seyzon admitted.

“Understood but consider it a favor to us,”
Kellan asked. He held out his hand to help his nephew stand.

“You should go. It is important,” Jana said
as another nursemaid appeared to fetch Dane. Adjusting her breast into the
bodice of her gown, she smiled indulgently at her wriggling child as the nursemaid
picked him up and the baby boy started giggling again.

“Your witchy vibes kicking in?” Seyzon
asked her.

“Take your king’s hand and go,” Jana said.

Seyzon sighed then slapped his palm to
Kellan’s. The pretend king jerked him easily to his feet. The man’s strength
never failed to impress him and he hoped he would be as viable when he was his
uncle’s age.

“Keep him out of trouble, Your Majesty,”
Jana said.

“We shall attempt to do so, milady, though
no guarantees can be made,” Kellan replied with a little bow.

Jana sent Seyzon a look that made him want
to pick her up and carry her to their bedchamber. That he couldn’t annoyed him
as he fell into step beside his uncle.

“Why do you want me there?” he asked
Kellan.

Though they were alone as they followed the
brick pathway up to the keep, Kellan lowered his voice. “I have it on good
authority he is attempting to assemble an army in the hopes of taking the crown
for himself. I intend to disabuse him of that notion once and for all.”

“How?”

Kellan smiled. “You’ll see.”

* * * * *

The throne room at Blackhall had the
distinction of being the grandest in all of Cairghrian Galaxy. It rivaled even
the throne room of the Burgon’s palace on Aduaidh Prime in the Idimmu Galaxy.
The opulence was wasted on Seyzon, who viewed the pure-gold throne with its
rare jewel inlays, the ermine carpet under foot, the chairs and cabinetry made
of Necromanian blackwood, and the expensive Chrystallusian silk draperies and
pennants as a lesson in bad taste and egotistical excess.

“Gaudy is the word that comes to mind,”
Kellan said as though he had read his nephew’s thoughts.

“I was thinking garish,” Seyzon mumbled.

“The extravagance was no doubt intended to
impress visiting emissaries and cower those who are Meiraman’s enemies,” Kellan
said.

“Looking at this overindulgence of wealth
when there are people in our country whose children go to bed hungry at night
makes me want to toss my lunch,” Seyzon told him.

“What would you think if I told you I have
taken steps to strip this room of all its glitzy bad taste, sell off everything
save the throne—where history has been made—and give that money to the poor?”

Seyzon turned to look at his uncle. “I’d
say you would go down in history as a great humanitarian in the eyes of our
people and a bloody fool in the eyes of the aristocracy.”

“I don’t give a Diabolusian warthog’s ass
what the aristocracy thinks of me,” Kellan said with a sniff. “Do you?”

“Not fucking likely,” Seyzon replied.

“Good,” his uncle stated. “Then come stand
at my right hand as we await the entrance of your little brother.”

Seyzon grinned. “He’s not going to like
that.”

“It will give new meaning to daddy likes
you best,” Kellan said, chuckling.

The doors at the end of the throne room
opened and a page appeared. “Prince Vindan, Duke of Wicklow and Farinhale,” he
announced.

Vindan came striding through the doorway
but came up short when he saw Seyzon upon the dais with the king. His carefully
blank face tightened, his lips thinned, eyes narrowed and he resumed his tread
at a slower pace. His gaze was locked on Seyzon. He stopped at the foot of the
dais and bowed. When he straightened, there was fury shooting from his blue
eyes.

“Wipe that antagonistic look from your
face, boy,” the king ordered. “It affronts us.”

“My apologies, Your Majesty,” Vindan said
through clenched teeth. He snapped his attention to his father. “I meant no
disrespect to you.”

“No, you aimed it at your brother,” the
king stated. “We will have none of that in our presence for your brother is not
the one at fault here.”

Vindan’s jaw became even more rigid but he
wisely did not comment.

“So, explain yourself to us, boy,” the king
said, settling back on the throne and crossing his legs casually.

Vindan’s brows drew together. “In what
regard, Your Grace?” he asked.

“This ragtag army you are putting together
in a ridiculous attempt to usurp the crown,”

A look of shock relaxed Vindan’s
constricted features. He flicked his eyes to Seyzon then back to the king. “How
did you—”

“Learn of your witless maneuvering?” the
king interrupted. “You forget we have spies watching your every move, boy. We knew
of your stupidity the moment you first gave voice to it to one of our men.” He
wagged his foot. “There is nothing you will ever do that will not be reported
to us. The sooner you learn that, the better things will be for you.”

“The crown is my birthright!” Vindan all
but shouted.

“Take that tone with us and we will see how
well you like our dankest, darkest, coldest cell in Blackhall’s dungeon, you
little shit!” the king bellowed in a voice that shook the fine-crystal
chandelier hanging above him.

“Actually, the crown is
my
birthright,” Seyzon said quietly, unable to refrain from rubbing salt into his
brother’s wound. “I am the legal heir, not you.”

Vindan took a step up the ermine-draped
dais with his hands doubled into fists, lips drawn back from his teeth, his
intent obvious, but he got no farther for the king shot to his feet.

“Stand down!” the king yelled. When Vindan
did not immediately obey, the king repeated the order. “Stand the fuck down!
Now!
”

Though he continued to glare murderously at
Seyzon, Vindan stepped back. His chest heaved with suppressed anger and his
hands clenched and unclenched. His jaw bunched and relaxed, bunched and relaxed.
At last he took two more steps back then raised his chin.

“What is it you want from me, Your Grace?”
he asked the king.

“We are sending you as our envoy to Aduaidh
Prime,” was the answer.

Vindan turned startled eyes to the king.
“To the palace of Emperor Bakari?”

The king nodded as he relaxed once more
upon the throne. “To meet with the Burgon, aye. There are matters to be
discussed and we cannot go at this time. We are sending you in our stead.”

“But what of Wicklow?” Vindan asked, though
from the quick look he shot at Seyzon, he already knew the answer.

“I have no desire to take the crown from
you, Vindan,” Seyzon said. “Rest assured on that account. I have all I could
ever want and when you return, I will be taking my family and journeying to
Selwyn where I intend to make my home.”

“You have everything you could ever want,”
Vindan sneered. “Including my—”

“Don’t you say it,” Seyzon warned. “Don’t
you
dare
say it.”

“As for this little folly of yours
regarding recruiting an army to overthrow us, we would have you think very
seriously before you attempt that again,” the king said, his eyes boring into
Vindan. “Try that shit again and you will be sent to Tyber’s Isle for a rather
lengthy sojourn.” He leaned forward on the throne. “Are we making ourselves
clear to you, boy?”