by Kyra Dune
She turned her back on him then, but could not resist tossing one more barb over her shoulder as she went. “It’s a pity Mishkael didn’t come to me all those years ago with the offer you made. To him, I might have said yes.”
His hot glare bore into her back, but his rage was impotent here. This was her dream. Her realm. And though he had violated it with his presence, he had not enough power to fling more than words at her here.
“You will live to regret refusing me,” he shouted after her. “I will see to it.”
Petulant words she had no intention of answering. She had spoken all she meant to say to her brother until the day came when he was on his knees before her begging for his life. Then she would speak to him the last words he would ever hear before she removed him of his head. What a fine day that would be.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Brandon lay on his back gazing up at the velvet sky. The most empty sky he had ever seen. Beside him, Nephima sat absently stroking her talisman with her thumb as she stared at the glowing temple in the distance.
They were alone on this side of the fire. The others were near, and yet they seemed far away, lost in their own thoughts. Fresh meat had left Brandon feeling full and yet not content. Boredom was swiftly creeping in again.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked, looking over at Nephima.
For a long moment, she didn’t reply. Anyone else would have thought she hadn’t even heard them, but Brandon guessed she was trying to think of how best to answer the question. Which was fine with him. She was an intelligent woman, after all, and those with intelligence think before they speak.
“Since I was given this talisman,” she said at length, “the power it offers me has been part of who I am. Here, without it, I feel different. Weaker. Almost lost.” Her brow dipped. “I didn’t know how much I’d come to depend on it.”
“You don’t need any old talisman,” Brandon said. “That’s not you. Back there in the woods, fighting those creatures, that was you. It was beautiful. You are beautiful.”
Nephima let her hand drop away from the talisman as she turned her dark brown gaze on him. “You really mean those words. Don’t you?”
“I never say what I don’t mean.” He grinned up at her. “You and me, we make a pretty good team, huh?”
The corner of her lips twitched. “You fight well, for a human. But you’re a strange one.”
“I’ve heard it before. I’ll likely hear it again. If we live through all this, that is.”
“You think we won’t?”
He shrugged. “Remains to be seen. But I get the feeling something about all of this is a little... off. Sometimes, things seem one way, when really they’re another.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know what I mean,” Brandon said. “Only that I mean it.”
Nephima shook her head. “As I said, strange.”
“It doesn’t hurt to have a strange friend or two,” Brandon said. “I’ll make your life more interesting. And you can always trust me to have your back. I take care of my friends.”
“What makes you so certain I’m your friend?”
“I don’t know whether you are or not,” he said, “but I’m yours.”
“It doesn’t work that way,” Nephima said, with the faintest hint of humor in her tone. “One person can’t be friends if the other one isn’t.”
“Who wrote that law?” Brandon asked. “I’ll be friends with whoever I want, whether they like it or not. Ask Jesse if you don’t believe me.”
“Jesse isn’t here.”
“No, he’s not.” Brandon stared moodily at the sky again. “I wonder what he’s doing right now. If he were along, I’m sure things wouldn’t be so tedious. The most interesting things happen around him. Like meeting you. And chasing off a nightmare. And getting drawn into this grand story. I wish he wouldn’t have gone back to Marigold. This realm is so boring.”
“Perhaps you would have preferred to die back there on the trail,” Reaper said. He had slipped up on them unnoticed as they talked. “Death is the last great adventure, after all.”
“Death is no adventure.” Nephima glared at him. “It’s an ending. If anything better waited on the other side, why would we fight so hard to cling to life?”
“I never said it was better,” Reaper replied.
“Well, maybe we’ll fail to stop the Cataclysm and everything as we know it will come to a crashing halt,” Brandon said. “That would be interesting.”
Nephima shook her head. “Only you could find interest in the end of all worlds.”
“The Cataclysm is no more an ending than is death,” Reaper said. “Both are simply a new way of existence.”
“You speak almost as if you don’t want to prevent it,” Nephima said.
Brandon had to laugh at the expression on Reaper’s face. “She makes a good point. Now, we all know why I might not care whether or not the worlds come to an end, I’m not all here,” he tapped the side of his head. “Or so everybody tells me. But you,” he pointed at Reaper, “shouldn’t feel the same.”
Reaper transferred his look to Brandon. “Both of you would do well to keep such thoughts to yourself. You’ll upset our companions.” This was all he had to say on the subject apparently, as he walked around the fire and began rousing the others in order to continue on with their journey.
Nephima watched him with narrowed eyes. “I don’t think we should trust him.”
“Oh, surely not.” Brandon sat up. “We’d be fools if we did.”
She turned her head. “But you are one of his followers.”
“I was raised a Death Dealer without anybody asking me if it was what I wanted,” Brandon said, all trace of humor gone from his demeanor. “Same for being trained as an assassin. But I accept them. I even enjoy the latter. But I do not know, nor have I ever, followed Reaper in the way you mean. He may be the patron power of assassins, but he’s not my patron. I wouldn’t follow a man who fashions himself the embodiment of death. Elder power or not.”
“I’ve never seen you so serious,” Nephima said. “I didn’t think you could be.”
“There are a great many things about me you don’t know. But if you’ve a mind to hang around, I’d show them to you. In the meantime,” he grinned his careless grin, “I find it impossible to stay serious for too long. It’s so dull.” He bounced to his feet and offered her his hand.
Nephima gazed thoughtfully up at him for a moment, then took his hand and allowed him to pull her to his feet. They were standing close together and if Brandon had been at all experienced in the art of it, he might have stolen a kiss. He did want to, very much. But it seemed a bad idea, in case she wasn’t so inclined. Oh, how he wished he could look behind her eyes and see what was going through her mind right then.
She stepped away, her hand slipping from his. But he carried the feel of it there with him as they put out the fire and departed their campsite.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“I’m not certain this was wise.” Charles paced as he spoke. “Did you see the expression on Richard’s face? I think he would have killed Jana on the spot had Daniella not dragged him from the throne room.”
A smile played about Victor’s lips. “Daniella looked upset as well. I don’t think even she expected Robert to have told Jana about his plans.” He sipped his wine. “They know they’re going to lose the crown.”
“Maybe.” Charles paused to stare out the window. “If I don’t have an “accident” or suddenly take ill. They might outright murder me, you know. I don’t put it past them. Especially Richard. Daniella has managed to keep a tight rein on him in the past, but it doesn’t mean she has total control over him. He hates me like no other.”
“I doubt you need fear for your life.” Victor sat his glass on the table. “Richard is brash and hot headed, but he isn’t a complete fool. He has to know killing you now would look suspicious. And if he doesn’t know it, Daniella will tell him. Don’t underestimat
e the power she has over her brother. If he holds the crown he’ll be king in name only, she’ll be the one running the kingdom. Make no mistake about it. ”
Charles braced his hands against the sill. “Then perhaps it’s Daniella I should be worried about. She’s not going to stand idly by and watch the throne slip out of her fingers.”
“Oh, I’ve no doubt she has any number of tricks up her sleeve,” Victor said. “But she isn’t going to win. Not this time.”
How easy for Victor to be so confident when it was not his life on the line. Suppose Anastasia and Simon succeeded in preventing the Cataclysm, only to return to find him dead? They would be devastated. And besides, Richard would no doubt go after Anastasia again. Simon was certainly qualified to protect her, but what a mess it would make of their lives.
“You will win the throne,” Victor said. “With the queen vouching for you, the High Priest can make no other choice.”
“I don’t know.” Charles turned from the window and slumped into a nearby chair. “Everyone knows of the contentious relationship she shares with her stepchildren. Her word alone may not be enough to convince the High Priest to choose me over the Crowned Prince.”
Victor shook his head. “You are far too young to be so consistently pessimistic. Try having a little faith in a fruitful outcome. It can’t hurt.”
“Nor can it help.” Charles rubbed the spot between his eyes. This situation required all of his concentration to stay on top of things, but his mind was divided. He didn’t want to be thinking of the throne now. He wanted only to be with his sister and Simon.
“You’re thinking about Anastasia, aren’t you?” Victor asked.
Charles dropped his hands into his lap. “Am I so obvious?”
“Any man worth living puts the needs of his family above his own,” Victor said. “We have to look after them and protect them and worry over them. It’s our duty.”
“The way you look after Edward? Is he your son?” Charles knew it was likely overbold of him to ask, but he was curious as well as desperate to talk of anything other than his own personal family matters.
“Many people think so,” Victor said. “Even Robert did. But no, Edward is not mine. More’s the pity. He is a bright, capable, honest sort of boy and any man should be honored to call him son. Sadly, his father doesn’t feel the same. I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors concerning my brother’s many bastards.”
“Most nobles have such rumors spread of them.”
“Yes, but for most nobles it isn’t true. Or at least, I hope it isn’t.” He lifted his wine glass. “In Armand’s case it’s very true. If you ever have occasion to come by the manor again, take a good, long look at the younger servants. You’ll find a number of them share some of Edward’s features. I’ve been cleaning up after my brother’s messes for a long time.”
“But you seem to pay Edward special favors.”
“True,” Victor said. “I won’t deny he has become my favorite. So much so I have seriously considered doing as Robert would have done and naming my nephew my heir.”
“You don’t think you might wait?” Charles asked. “You could still father a son of your own.”
“I think not. In the past I considered taking a wife solely for the sake of an heir, but my brother has supplied me with my pick, so why bother? I enjoy my life as it is and see no need for bringing a woman into it.”
“I suppose if I win the throne I’ll be expected to marry quickly.” Charles made a face at the idea. “At least I’m already betrothed, so I don’t have to concern myself over stepping on anyone’s fragile egos by refusing their daughters.”
“Don’t look so overjoyed about it.”
Charles sighed. “Lady Madeline is a lovely woman. Pretty and not entirely lacking when it comes to brains, she’ll make a fine queen I’m sure. But in all truth, I only proposed because I seem to be reaching an age when a nobleman is expected to settle in with a family. I respect you for your bravery in refusing to follow such societal pressures.”
“Whatever pressure you’ve felt as future Duke of Columine will be infinitely greater once you’re king,” Victor said. “I don’t envy you in the least. But you have earned my respect as well, for doing something you so obviously have no wish to do in order to protect your sister. You remind me of your mother. She carried the same sense of familial responsibility.”
“You were close with my mother?” Try as he might, Charles could not remember Victor ever visiting them in Columine. But then, his mother had died when he was very young.
“Almost as close as I was with Robert. I might have married her myself had she not fallen in love with your father. But, it was for the best things worked out as they did. Though their marriage was sadly brief, it was wonderfully happy. Anyone who ever saw them together could see as much.”
“It’s funny how things turn out sometimes, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is,” Victor said. “I think of when Robert was crowned and how many noblemen clamored for him to wed their daughter. Had he not chosen Miranda and then followed her death by marrying her little sister, we would not be here now. It’s a pity he couldn’t have married Jana back then.”
“True.” Charles drummed his fingers along the armrest. “How long do you suppose it will take the High Priest to make his choice?”
Victor chuckled. “He’ll make no decision tonight, I can tell you that much. It was almost three months after Gregor’s death before Robert was crowned.”
“Three months?” Charles groaned. “If Richard and I have to live under the same roof for so long, I may kill him. Every time I see his face all I can think of is what he plans to do to my sister and all I want is to run my sword through his guts. I’m not normally a violent man, but in his case I could make an exception.”
“I understand the feeling,” Victor said. “But hopefully it will not take so long in this case. Gregor made the same mistake as Robert when it came to waiting too long to formally announce his heir, but the delay came more from a certain Lady’s son who claimed to be sired by Gregor. It couldn’t be proven, of course, but the High Priest had to do his duty in strenuously investigating the claim.”
Charles nodded. He tried to ease himself back in the seat and calm his mind. But a moment later found himself on his feet pacing once more. Calm and ease simply were not possible with his life in such a turmoil.
“You’ll do Daniella’s work for her and drive yourself to illness if you don’t settle,” Victor said.
“I know, but I have never been good at waiting. And considering what we’re waiting for, I don’t see how you can be so calm.” He lowered his voice even though they were alone. “If the Cataclysm occurs we’ll have far more to worry over than who claims the throne.”
“I remain calm by focusing my energies on what I can do rather than what I can’t.” He poured himself another glass of wine. “I can’t do one thing about the Cataclysm, but I can exert my every will in seeing Richard and Daniella pay something for murdering their father. Justice for Robert is the only thing which concerns me at the moment.”
This didn’t surprise Charles in the least. He’d known from the start why Victor was so keen on him being king. Let him call it justice if he liked. In truth, it was vengeance plain and simple. But Charles didn’t mind being an instrument of revenge if it meant protecting his sister.
The door burst open and Edward came running into the room. He skidded to a stop when he saw Charles and Victor there. “Oops. I figured you’d be at dinner.”
“You what?” Victor’s tone was mildly chiding.
Edwards cheeks colored. “Begging your pardon, but I thought you and Lord Charles would be to dinner by now.” He spoke the words slowly and with great care.
“And is that a good excuse for you to be running about the castle like a common street urchin?”
“No, sir.” Edward lowered his gaze to the floor. “I suppose I might have got myself a little worked up.”
A smile tugged at the
corner of Victor’s lips. “What have you been up to that’s put you in such a state?”
“I was down to the stables to have a look at the horses. They got a...” He paused. “I mean, they have a mare who recently foaled. Prettiest little black stallion I’ve ever seen.”
Charles felt rather sorry for the boy, seeing how he was struggling so with the more proper turn of phrase. “Fond of horses, are you?”
Edward lifted his head. “Oh yes sir, your Lordship.” His dark eyes sparkled. “Nothing’s better than a good horse. And this one comes from strong stock, I can tell. He’d make a fine breeder.”
“Do you suppose we should look into buying him?” Victor asked.
“Yes sir.” Edward shifted his feet. “He’d be a good addition to your stables.”
Victor nodded. “Then I shall see about it once our other business here is concluded. Now go and wash up. You’ll be dining with the servants tonight. Lord Charles and I were invited to sit with the queen.”
“Yes sir.” Edward walked more sedately into the washroom.
Charles followed the boy with his gaze until he was out of sight. “Have you told him yet about your decision to name him your heir?”
“No,” Victor said. “I’ve been too worried about the weight it will lay on his young shoulders. Not to mention the friction it may cause with his siblings. I’d hoped to wait a few more years.”
“Really?” Charles turned to face him. “I mean no disrespect, but have you learned nothing from my current situation? If you should die in the morning, what would become of Edward and his siblings? Would your Duchy not be passed on to one of Armand’s legitimate sons if you make no proclamation otherwise?”
Victor’s expression grew thoughtful. “I suppose they would. But I can’t do a thing about it now. Once you’re king, I’ll make the announcement.”
