by Xenia Melzer
Again a huffing sound.
They resumed their journey in silence.
WHEN TWILIGHT descended, Renaldo started looking for a place where they could spend the night, but Lys wouldn’t have it. He stubbornly kept on galloping. Renaldo was glad that the moons were high in a clear sky so they wouldn’t break a leg—or their necks. Although that seemed unlikely, given how confidently Lys moved through the night. It almost seemed as if the stallion was a part of the shadows.
In the morning, Renaldo could see in the distance the smoke from the village at the foot of the mountains.
“We’re almost there, Lys,” he whispered into the pinned-back ears of the exceptional steed.
As if that sentence had unearthed additional strength, Lys shuddered and picked up his pace. Less than an hour later, they left the village behind and galloped through the gate into the hell that was the mines.
RENALDO IMMEDIATELY saw that a fight was in progress at the slush-covered entrance area. Three guards lay motionless on the ground, apparently dead, and three more thrashed around whimpering in the snow. Only a few feet away, a group of four or five men was engaged in heated battle. Above the tumult, a high-pitched, enraged voice rang out.
“I want him alive, do you understand? He has to pay for what he did.”
Lysistratos shot forward, teeth bared. With a well-aimed kick, he shattered the skull of the nearest guard. The momentum made the corpse fly through the air like a rag doll. Cursing, Renaldo suddenly glimpsed a mane of wheat-blond hair on the ground in the midst of the fighting men. He dismounted the demon Casto called his best friend, drew his sword, and killed the bastards who dared to attack his lover.
Only minutes later everything was over, the ground slippery with blood, the corpses grotesquely twisted in the trampled, red snow. Casto had half gotten up from his prone position; surprised but also annoyed, and his blue eyes bored into Renaldo’s gaze.
Renaldo felt relief and love flooding his senses, accompanied by an irrational claim of ownership. Casto was hurt, his face was smeared with blood, and the simple tunic he wore was stiff with dirt and torn in various places, but as long as Casto was able to shoot him looks so full of scorn, he had to be mostly well.
Renaldo stepped forward, his hand outstretched to help Casto up, but Casto only turned his head in contempt.
“Just leave me alone, Barbarian!”
A huff resounded at Renaldo’s back, and he was tossed aside by Lysistratos as the stallion stepped forward to help up his true rider.
With ease of practice, Casto grabbed his brother’s mane and got to his feet. For a moment he closed his eyes. His breath was ragged, his face pale, and he was obviously hurt more badly than it had seemed.
Before Renaldo could take a closer look at him, a fat, stocky man stumbled into his line of sight, his porky double chin trembling in rage. His high-pitched, nagging voice reminded Renaldo of a vulture that had failed to reach the carcass in time.
“How dare you? You’ve killed my men, so I demand compensation! And this little rat stays here. I’m planning on punishing him severely.”
A dangerous light crept into Renaldo’s eyes. “And you are?” he asked with raised eyebrows.
The creep straightened up to his not-very-impressive height of one ell and two spans. Next to the tall, perfectly muscled Angel of Death, he looked like a caricature.
“I am Golob, the Master of the Mines. And this one”—he stabbed his finger in Casto’s direction—“has dared to oppose me. He has raised his hand against me, killed four of my men, and wounded three more. For that, he has to be punished.”
Renaldo turned to the young man. “Is that true, Casto? Did you really hit the master of this place?”
Casto rolled his eyes in annoyance. It didn’t escape Renaldo that he was still very pale and hadn’t yet let go of Lys. But his voice was firm and as condescending as ever.
“This despicable swine wanted to bed me. I declined, and then he tried to use force. I only defended myself.”
“You wanted to bed him?” Renaldo’s voice was deadly calm and so intimidating that even Golob realized something was amiss. He held up his hands in defense.
“Everybody who comes here is sentenced to death. I only take my share of those to whom I want to grant a reprieve. And look at him! Even now, wounded and dirty, he’s still a stunning sight.”
“I am aware of that.”
Renaldo kept his gaze trained on Golob until the man trembled in fear. Golob, Master of the Mines, finally started to realize who was standing in front of him.
Renaldo reached for his belt, took the purse of gold from there, and threw it carelessly to the ground in front of Golob. “This should cover your losses. It’s more than enough to get new men and pay for a whore to grant you the joy Casto has denied you.” Without sparing Golob another glance, Renaldo turned back to Casto. “Can you get onto Lys on your own or do I have to help you?”
Anger and defiance flitted across Casto’s expression for a moment, and then Casto turned to Lys and mounted—without his usual grace. He had no desire to go with Renaldo; for that, he was still too angry. Unfortunately, he knew he had no choice. Without provisions or gold, and as weak as he was, he had little chance of survival. As much as it galled him, he had to stick with the Barbarian for the time being.
Renaldo had to suppress the instinct to reach for the reins to lead the horse. For one thing, it wasn’t necessary—Lys would never allow any harm to come to Casto—and for another, Renaldo knew his amnesty was over. Lys had grudgingly tolerated him while they were on the mission to save Casto, but he had no more reason to be nice to Renaldo. He was pretty sure the stallion would bite off his arm should he get the chance.
And so the three of them left the mines. Renaldo took the lead on foot, and Lys followed with the pale Casto on his back.
They passed through the town, stopping and getting new clothes for Casto, who changed behind one of the shops but refused any help. Renaldo acquiesced with clenched teeth, and only a short time later they resumed their journey in icy silence.
That evening they reached the small inn where Kalad had stopped with Ghost and Demon.
Kalad welcomed his leader and Casto in his usual laid-back manner. “I’d have never thought you’d be so fast! Lys must have run like the wind. I didn’t want to believe you, Renaldo, but that horse sure is one of a kind.” He smiled at Casto. “Nice to get you back in one piece. Is everything all right?”
Casto returned the smile halfheartedly. “Depends,” he murmured with a sidelong glance at Renaldo, who now turned to Kalad with a sorrowful look.
“Casto is wounded, but he refuses my help. Perhaps you can talk some sense into him.”
“I see you two haven’t had the chance to talk things through yet. Come on, Casto. I’ve already taken a room, so let me have a look at your wounds.”
For a moment it seemed as if Casto wanted to refuse, but then he sighed and followed Kalad to the first floor of the inn, where the guest rooms were situated.
An hour later, Kalad entered the public room alone. Renaldo, sitting at a table with a cup of wine in front of him, looked up in alarm.
Kalad nodded reassuringly. “He’s still bathing. For the third time. I got the impression that he wants to scrub off the last few days. If he continues like that, there’ll be nothing left of him come tomorrow morning.”
“How badly is he hurt?”
“Outwardly? Nothing serious: some deep cuts, many scratches, lots of bruises and contusions, but nothing that won’t heal quickly if treated thoroughly. Since he was in a fight when you found him, his condition is not surprising. The wounds you inflicted have healed quite well as far as I can tell, but that’s no surprise either since Noemi took care of them. He’s tired out, weakened, and I wager he hasn’t had enough food.”
“And how is he doing?”
“He’s in shock. He’s angry and frightened, never a good combination, especially for somebody as proud as he is. You know hi
m far better than I do, Renaldo. You should know how he’s doing.”
Renaldo stared intently into his wine. “I didn’t even realize he was innocent. I no longer dare to pass judgment on him.”
“My lord.” Kalad put his hand on his leader’s forearm. His voice was soft while he addressed him so formally. “You’ve been cunningly misled. We all have been. None of us doubted Casto’s innocence for even a second.”
Renaldo’s gray eyes were full of pain. “I should have known. Should have at least allowed doubt. He’s been with me for almost five years, and yet I blindly fell for the lies of a slave I didn’t even know. Tell me, how can I ever forgive myself? I almost killed my heart and endangered everything we’ve been fighting for all these years.”
For a moment, Kalad was taken aback. Renaldo rarely opened up to anybody. It had been obvious how close Renaldo and Casto were, but never would he have expected the blond to be Renaldo’s heart. Kalad recovered quickly from his shock and tried to soothe Renaldo. “But it ended well. The Holy Mothers have protected us as they always do. Casto’s alive and fine. He’ll come back home with us, and then you can marry him. You can become one with your heart.”
“I doubt he’ll ever let me get close to him again. Why should he?”
“Yes, why should I?”
Casto’s voice was cold and bitter at Kalad’s back. Without the two warriors noticing, he had stepped up to the table.
Renaldo got up hastily. “Casto, how are you?”
Casto made a derisive sound, but before he could make a snippy retort, Kalad got up as well.
“I suggest the two of you go upstairs and talk this out. Casto, if you want, you can come and sleep in my room then, but first you’re going to talk. I’ve no intention of being the buffer on our way back to the Valley.”
“Assuming I decide to go back with you.”
The words didn’t bode well for Renaldo.
“Whatever. Talk about it without killing each other. That’s all I’m asking.” With that, Kalad retreated to his room.
Casto and Renaldo stared at each other silently for a long time. After a while, Renaldo reached for his lover’s hand with a sigh.
Casto flinched as if he’d burned himself. “Don’t touch me! I’ll follow you.”
They climbed the stairs to the small chamber Renaldo had rented for the night, entered the room, and then stared at each other again.
Renaldo broke the spell. “Are you going to murder me with your gaze for the rest of the night, or do you have something to say?”
Casto didn’t try to hide his anger. “I don’t know what I could tell you or what you might want to hear from me, Barbarian. I sure as hell won’t thank you for rescuing me, since it was your fault I ended up in that pigsty.”
“I know, Casto. You have to believe me, I’m really sorry. I should have known you’d never betray me with someone else.”
“You thought I was cheating?” Casto sounded surprised. “That’s why you tried to beat me up, knocked me unconscious, and sent me to this forsaken place?”
“Yes—I’m sorry.”
“You’re repeating yourself, Barbarian. And what exactly are you sorry for? That you obviously fell for a liar? That you almost killed me? That you did things to me you had no right doing? That you’ve been keeping me as your property against my will for almost five years? That you forced me to participate in your feast dressed up like a cheap whore? What exactly are you sorry for?”
Casto had talked himself into a rage; his eyes shot fire, his chest heaved, his hands trembled.
Renaldo reached out for him but then lowered his hand again. He could understand Casto’s anger only too well, and if he were in Casto’s place, he would never forgive himself. What Renaldo had done to Casto, his distrust and the jealousy he acted on, were so horrible it screamed for punishment, and he knew the consequences of his actions would haunt him forever. The best thing he could do was to try and make up to his lover and then let him go. But the mere thought of losing his heart made his insides constrict.
And so, for the first time, Renaldo tried to explain to Casto what he felt deep inside.
“I’m sorry that I didn’t trust you. I know this is unforgivable, but if only you could understand. When I was presented with the proof of your guilt, it seemed as if night had descended on me. An invisible torturer had ripped my heart out and piled glowing embers into my empty chest. All joy was gone, as if I had been banished to a place without sun, warmth, or life. The only thing left was this terrible pain, a pain I’d never known before.
“I’ve been walking this world for a long time now, Casto, but I’ve never suffered such agony. You’re the first and only one to wield such power over me. This insight made me furious. All I wanted was to make you feel the same pain, to show you how much you had wounded me. I was so overcome by agony and anger I was unable to have even one clear thought. I only knew I had to get rid of you so that I wouldn’t be killed in the maelstrom.
“I sent you to the mines because I couldn’t bring myself to kill you directly. And then you were gone, and I was in even worse pain than before. I was dying. And that was when I had to face the truth.
“I love you, Casto. I love you more than anything else in this world. You are my life. And no matter what you do, nothing will ever change that.”
With his eyes open wide, Casto listened to the Barbarian. He had never expected to hear those words from Renaldo. He didn’t think it possible that the feared Angel of Death would ever show weakness so openly, make himself so vulnerable. This frankness swept away his own justified anger and revealed the love he felt for Renaldo. Admitting to himself that he indeed loved Renaldo was the hardest thing Casto had ever done. It was so much easier to cling to his anger about the unjust treatment and to hate the Barbarian for taking him prisoner. Casto also knew that in their twisted relationship, he had always given as good as he’d gotten. Even during their last fight, he managed to land some serious blows against Renaldo before the man took him out. The betrayal still hurt and would do so for a long time to come. After all, Casto was not a person to easily forgive even small insults, let alone such a big one, but knowing that they both loved each other, he decided not to deny himself the chance. If things didn’t work out, he could still use this incident as leverage to get away from the Barbarian.
For this to work, he had to reveal the truth about himself.
Casto swallowed hard. It was his last chance to trust Renaldo, his last chance for a life free of his father’s shadow.
Even though Renaldo would never truly be his, Casto could still make the best out of the time he had until Renaldo’s heart was found. All he had to do was jump into the void and hope the impact wouldn’t shatter him.
He searched Renaldo’s eyes and steeled himself for what he was about to say. “I, too, love you.” Renaldo’s gaze lit up with happiness, which made it almost impossible to keep on talking, but he persisted.
“It’s like you said. Without you, the sun doesn’t rise. Everything is eternal night. I can’t imagine a life without you. And that makes it even harder to tell you the truth. All these years I’ve spent with you, I’ve lied to you. I am not who you think I am.”
He hesitated for a moment, knowing his next words could mean his end. But if he didn’t take the risk now, he would be lost to the darkness forever.
“My real name is Castolus. Prince Castolus of Ummana, son of Queen Isiris and rightful heir to the Twin Cities.”
The light faded from Renaldo’s eyes, and Casto could almost feel his spirit sinking.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, barely audible. He wanted to say more, wanted to explain why he had never talked about this, but Renaldo spoke first.
“Why didn’t you tell me? You hated being my possession, and yet you kept your silence. If I’d known who you really were, I would have freed you for ransom money—at least in the beginning.”
Casto laughed bitterly. “Did you forget where you found me? Do you really think
a royal prince earns his living as a mercenary? I was on the run and had no intention of ever going back home.”
“Why?”
Such a simple question, and yet it reawakened so much pain and suffering. Now Casto closed his eyes; he didn’t want to see how Renaldo reacted to his deepest disgrace. “Because my father tried to break me, to enthrall me.
“The rule over the Twin Cities goes through my mother’s line. It automatically falls on the firstborn. My mother died when I was only six years old. My sister Anesha was two at the time. As the firstborn, I was the heir, but far too young to rule. My father was—is—a power seeker who only sees his own advantage. My youth was the perfect opportunity for him to gain control in the Twin Cities. To lull my father and keep him occupied, the Council let him do as he pleased. He was appointed my guardian, and I was left in his care, although they all knew what kind of person he was, what he was planning.
“The Council removed my sister from the court and started to train her as the new queen in secret. I was the sacrifice they made to back their own interests.
“In the beginning I thought my father was so strict in order to turn me into a good, strong king. But I realized his true intentions very soon and swore that I would defy him. I bowed to him, did what he wanted, bore his sadistic punishments, and begged whenever he wanted me to.
“I behaved like the well-trained puppy he wanted, and at the same time, I tried to learn everything that could be useful to me one day.
“When I turned fifteen, I made the mistake of openly defying him. I really thought I was strong enough by then, but I was wrong, horribly wrong. My own father had my arm broken as a punishment. I had to kneel in front of his desk for an entire day and beg him for forgiveness before he called for a healer.
“A year later I escaped, and after another year, you took me prisoner. I was only seventeen then, and yet it felt as if I’d already suffered through a lifetime.”
