The Devil's Fire

The Devil's Fire by Sara Bell

Torquere Press www.torquerepress.com

Copyright ©2007 by Sara Bell First published in www.torquerepress.com, 2008 NOTICE: This eBook is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution to any person via email, floppy disk, network, print out, or any other means is a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines and/or imprisonment. This notice overrides the Adobe Reader permissions which are erroneous. This eBook cannot be legally lent or given to others. This eBook is displayed using 100% recycled electrons.

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Prologue Holden watched with interest as a slow smile crept across the face of his betrothed, Lucien of Denmar. Lucien's dark hair gleamed with red streaks against the light from the fire. There was a gleam in his black eyes that chilled Holden to the bone. "We have them, love." Lucien waved the missive he was holding back and forth for Holden to see. "At last you and I shall have vengeance against Gareth and his kin." "Really now?" Holden straddled the bench he'd been sitting on and gave Lucien a grin he figured might be a bit lopsided due to the mead he'd been drinking steadily for the past hour. "And what is it? A pox on both their houses? Bloody welts courtesy of the village hag?" He did a half turn to pour himself another round. "I know. A potion to make certain Gareth's cock remains flaccid from here on in." "Good ideas all, but I have something a little bloodier in mind." Lucien tossed the missive into the fire, then strode with purpose to Holden's bench. He took the goblet from Holden's hand, drained it himself, then tossed it to the rushcovered floor. He tangled his hands in Holden's hair and jerked his head back. The pain went straight to Holden's cock. Lucien laughed. "Like it rough, don't you love?" His fingers made circles against Holden's scalp. "Did Gareth make Kiel scream the way you scream when I'm fucking your arse, I wonder?" 3

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"Don't talk about Kiel." Holden feigned a pout, difficult considering his cock was trying to pop from his hose. "Half the time you speak as if you still love him." "Once, perhaps." Lucien lowered his head to bite Holden's bottom lip. "But then Kiel betrayed me." He pushed Holden back over the bench, ripping his hose with a viscous jerk as Holden went down. "Kiel learned his lesson, and if I have my way, so will his hapless relations." He grabbed Holden's prick with a savage twist. "Let that be an example to you, love. Don't cross me and you won't get hurt." Holden shuddered. He didn't doubt Lucien's words one bit. He had just a moment to wonder if he'd made a bargain with the wrong man, but by then his cock was in Lucien's mouth and all his thoughts melted away.

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Chapter One Gareth's boots thundered against the stone floor of the corridor as he approached Tristam's private chamber. The noise was deafening in the silence of the hall, but Gareth ignored it and kept going. Something was brewing, and he meant to find out what. He gave the door a solid knock and then waited. "Enter." The heavy oak separating them muffled Tristam's command, but Gareth heard him clear enough. Taking a deep breath, he swung the door wide and stepped inside, catching sight of King Tristam almost immediately. A sharp pain hit Gareth square in the chest. Tristam was the living image of his brother. Same regal, hawk-like nose, same piercing, deep-set brown eyes. Even the stubborn tilt of Tristam's jaw was an exact replica of Kiel's determined countenance. Gareth swallowed the thick lump filling his throat. He'd hoped this time he'd be able to look at Tristam without feeling as if he were being ripped in two, but once again his hopes were in vain. After a full minute's hesitation, Gareth gained control of himself and fell to one knee in front of Tristam's chair. "Greetings, my king." "Don't be an idiot." Tristam gave him a half smile. "I've no need of a formal showing from my own brother."

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Gareth came to his feet. "Not that I don't appreciate the sentiment," he said, "but last I checked, you and I were kin through marriage alone." "You became my brother the day you and Kiel wed. His death doesn't change that." Tristam pointed to the chair opposite his. "Sit. You must be exhausted after your journey from Lachlan." He lifted a full tankard of ale from the table beside his chair and passed it to Gareth. Gareth settled into his seat and took a long, grateful drink from the cup. Tristam waited until Gareth had enjoyed a few hearty gulps and then said, "You must be wondering why I summoned you halfway across the Over Kingdom with such haste." Gareth nodded. He perched himself on the edge of his seat, ready for almost anything. "The missive you sent was less than forthcoming." "My apologies for being mysterious, but I feared the message might be intercepted." Tristam's expression grew dark. "Denmar's minions attacked one of the lower settlements a fortnight ago." "How great was the damage?" "Minor, this time. My men managed to push the invaders back to the border before they took a serious toll on us, but Denmar's forces are getting stronger, and if the rumors are true, Denmar is set to grow stronger still." Tristam folded his fingers into fists. "It seems he's forming a marriage alliance with the House of Stiles." 6

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Gareth's eyes went wide. "Which one of King Stiles's unfortunate offspring is Denmar to wed?" "Your former betrothed." Tristam pursed his lips. "A match made in the Under Realms if e'er there was one." "The varlet is set to bond with Holden?" Gareth shuddered. "I never thought to say it, but I almost pity Denmar." "Denmar deserves a man like Holden. May the two of them rot in everlasting damnation." Tristam sighed. "As much as I want Denmar to suffer, his alliance to the house of Stiles is about the worst thing that can happen to Drystan right now." Gareth drained the mug in a series of long swallows and then set it on the table with more force than necessary. "Such an alliance will make Denmar almost as powerful as you are." "Exactly." Tristam rose and walked over to the fireplace. "The marriage will also give Denmar a royal connection not even the High King can ignore." He stood in silence, staring into the flames for a long moment before turning back to Gareth. "Denmar won't rest until he's destroyed all that is mine. I'll be powerless against him once he has Stiles firmly at his back." "We could wage a full scale attack against the blackguard before his marriage to Holden takes place." Gareth caressed the hilt of his sword. "The minute we attack Denmar outright, Stiles and all his allies will be upon us. Our armies are not strong enough to survive such a war." Tristam came back to his seat with a gleam in his eye. "I've thought of a better way to thwart Denmar's crusade against us. I'm going to make a marriage alliance of my own." 7

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"You and Maris are going to have a babe, then?" Gareth hardly dared hope. "No." Tristam looked away. "Maris's womb remains barren." Gareth could only guess how much that grieved Tristam and his sweet young wife. He cleared his throat. "There are other ways to have children, Tristam. Foundlings, orphans, hired women. 'Tis how men such as myself forge families." "Maris won't hear of it." Tristam pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "She feels less than a woman for being unable to conceive after seven years of marriage." He leaned back and closed his eyes. "I hope someday she'll see the folly of her thinking, but you know how stubborn she can be." "She must see your need of an heir." "But I have an heir." Tristam opened his eyes and fixed them on Gareth. "You." Gareth blinked. "What are you talking about?" "'Tis what I've been trying to tell you. Being that I have no children of my own, Kiel—my only blood kin—would have taken the throne upon my death." Gareth's mouth went dry. "Kiel is gone." "Making you all the kin I have left." Tristam must have realized Gareth didn't understand, for he said, "Your marriage made you a joint successor to the crown of Drystan. With Kiel dead, you're next in line for my throne." Gareth's heart began to race. "You can't think—" 8

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"You know exactly what I think. Were you to marry the scion of a powerful enough kingdom, there'd be no way for Denmar to continue his quest to take over Drystan." Tristam took a step closer to him. "Not immediately, anyhow. We'd be given time enough to regroup our forces and devise a strategy to stop Denmar once and for all." "It sounds as if you've given this much thought." Gareth did his best to maintain an even tone despite his rising anger. "Have you chosen my suitor, as well?" "As it happens, I have," Tristam said. "King Declan of Kray has a son, a man of almost two and twenty named Alric. Kray and I both believe you'd make a fine match." "You've already spoken to Kray about this?" Gareth was on his feet in an instant, knocking the chair over in his haste. His hands knotted into tight fists. "Without bothering to consult me?" Tristam didn't react to Gareth's show of temper. "Kray approached me when he learned of Denmar's desire to conquer Drystan. He and I both believe a combining of our kingdoms would be the perfect solution to my dilemma." "Perfect for whom? Sure as certain not me." Gareth narrowed his eyes. "Of all the lesser kingdoms who claim allegiance to the Over Kingdom of Orielle, Declan of Kray's domain is second to none in power and wealth. What has him so eager to make an alliance with a small kingdom like Drystan?" "Rumor holds that Kray is dying from a wasting disease. Given his frailty when last we met, I don't doubt it." Tristam 9

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shrugged. "Perhaps Kray wants to see his son settled before he dies." "He can find someone else to settle him with, then. I'm not interested." Gareth turned and headed for the door. Tristam was one step ahead of him, on his feet and blocking Gareth's path before he could escape. "Get out of my way, Tristam." "Not until you hear all I have to say." Gareth's nostrils flared. "Not until I agree with you, you mean." "Yes." "At least you don't deny it." He tried to move around him, but Tristam wouldn't budge. Gareth stepped back, unwilling to lay wrathful hands on his king, brother-in-law or not. Instead, he looked Tristam in the eye. "You'll order me to abide by your wishes whether I agree to them or not, won't you?" "I don't think that will be necessary." Tristam pointed to the fallen chair. "Sit back down and hear me out." Gareth crossed his arms over his chest. "I'll stand." "Fine, but stay put or I'll summon my guards and have them tie you down." Warning in place, Tristam crossed to the far side of the room with slow, deliberate strides. He gave one backwards glance to make certain Gareth had heeded his bidding and then entered the antechamber between his rooms and Maris's. He came back a moment later with a wooden box no larger than a loaf of bread.

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Tristam closed the door behind him before making his way back to the sitting area in front of the fire. After reclaiming his chair, he crooked a finger at Gareth. "If you're going to stand, at least stand over here. I'm getting a headache from straining to see you in this dim light." Gareth's only reply was a stiff grunt, but he grudgingly complied with the request. Tristam rummaged through the box, withdrawing a folded sheet of parchment. He started to pass the paper to Gareth, but stopped just short of handing it over. "Before I show you this, I want your word you'll do nothing without my consent." "I've no time for games. Tell me what you want me to know and be done with it." "Not until I have your oath." Tristam closed the box with a snap. "I'll have your promise not to act on this information, and I'll have it now." Gareth reined in what little patience he had left. "I swear it." Tristam hesitated a heartbeat longer before finally giving it over. Gareth stepped closer to the fire, unfolding the parchment and holding it close to the light. By the time he finished reading, he was shaking with a fury he hadn't felt since the night Kiel died. "Where did you get this?" "'Tis from Denmar's keep at Beckford. One of my spies found it in the man's private chambers." Tristam set the box aside, then poured himself a fresh tankard of ale from the 11

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flagon on the table. "My men are searching the validity of it, but I have no doubt 'tis true." He twisted his lips. "Denmar wanted Kiel for his own, but Kiel spurned his advances and chose you. 'Twas enough to make Denmar hate him." Gareth crumpled the parchment and tossed it to the floor. "I'll kill the whoreson with my bare hands." "Denmar is too well guarded. You'll be dead before you ever get to him." Tristam's apparent state of calm caused a black flame to churn low in Gareth's gut. "All this time we believed Kiel was the victim of some lingering ailment," Gareth spat a foul tasting bile not far from Tristam's feet, "and now that we know Denmar had him poisoned, you sit there, drinking your ale as if nothing's changed?" "Would you have me stage a war I know I cannot win?" Tristam's eyes flashed. "Would you sacrifice our men, sending hundreds—even thousands—to be slaughtered in a futile attempt to avenge one?" "Yes. No." Gareth slapped a hand against his own chest. "I don't know. All I know for certain is I won't rest until Denmar has paid for his crimes, and neither should you." "Nor will I, but challenging Denmar now is not an option. The only way to make Denmar suffer is to form an alliance with a stronger kingdom. Only then will we be able to seek vengeance." Tristam narrowed his eyes on Gareth's face. "You're the key to making such an alliance possible." Gareth's stomach lurched. "What you ask of me is impossible." "Only because you choose to see it that way." 12

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"I see it as it is." Gareth jerked his fingers through his hair and pulled hard. "You want me to avenge Kiel's death by dishonoring his memory and taking another man to my bed?" The very thought was so obscene he could scarcely voice it. "'Twould be like killing him all over again." "Listen to yourself, Gareth." Tristam dropped the tankard he was holding and came to his feet. "Do you honestly believe Kiel would want you to spend the rest of your life pining after a ghost?" He lowered his voice. "You're only eight and twenty—too young to resign yourself to a life of loneliness." "You are but six years older than I, Tristam. Don't presume to lecture me as if you were my father." Gareth swallowed hard. "You know nothing of how I feel." "Don't I?" Tristam came to stand directly in front of him. "Funny that you should think so, considering I felt as if my heart was being ripped from my chest the day I stood beside my dead brother's pyre and watched the flames devour his body." Tristam's words brought Gareth a rush of shame. "I know your loss was great." He closed his eyes. "I meant not to diminish it." "I know how you ache for Kiel, but I also knew my brother." Tristam put one hand on Gareth's shoulder. "Kiel would have wanted you to find love again. Two years have passed since his death. You must let him go." Gareth opened his eyes and pushed Tristam's hand away. "How can I move forward knowing Denmar is getting away with murder?" 13

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"You can't, and neither can I." Tristam's voice took on an edge of iron. "For that reason, I ask you again: will you accept Kray's suit and join his house with mine so that together we may seek justice for Kiel?" Gareth wanted to shout a denial until his lungs burned and his throat ached, but not even the stomach-churning notion of taking another man to his bed could override the grim truth: marrying Alric of Kray could well be Gareth's only chance to make Denmar atone for his sins. He turned back to Tristam, his eyes burning bright with the need for justice. "Swear to me, if I do this thing, you'll not rest until Kiel has been avenged." Tristam didn't hesitate. "I swear it on my life." Gareth gave a single, tight nod. "Send word to Kray that I will accept his son." When Tristam agreed, Gareth headed for the door. "Where are you going?" Gareth paused with his hand on the latch. "To Lachlan. If there's nothing I can do to get 'round this farce of a marriage, at least I can spend my last days of freedom in the home Kiel and I shared." He pulled the door open. "Send word of the arrangements as soon as they're made." "I will." Gareth left before Tristam could say anything else. As soon as he was back in the hall, he sought the privacy of a quiet corner and emptied the contents of his stomach. ****

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A fortnight after his meeting with Tristam, Gareth stood on the battlements of Lachlan Keep, looking down at the lush green of the surrounding countryside. Coming up here usually provided him a measure of peace, but not today. Soon word would come announcing the details of the shameless marriage he was being forced into. Uneven footsteps sounded on the stone roof behind him. Gareth turned to see Marcus, Lachlan's steward, standing near the hatch. Marcus bowed low. "Forgive me for interrupting, my lord, but you have a visitor." "The messenger from Drystan?" "No, my lord." Marcus's voice was hoarse and anxious. "'Tis Lord Holden of Stiles." Holden? The man hadn't stepped foot inside Lachlan Keep since they'd ended their engagement six years ago. Gareth preferred to keep it that way. "What does he want?" "He wouldn't tell me," Marcus said. "Shall I ask him to leave?" "I'll deal with Holden myself." Gareth gritted his teeth and made for the hatch. When Gareth entered the great hall moments later, Holden was standing near the fire. He wore a ruby tunic and matching hose, with black boots polished to a high shine. His hair, long the last time Gareth had seen him, had been cut to fashionable length and now curled in all its sable glory at the nape of his neck. 15

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Holden turned when he heard Gareth approach. His eyes twinkled with a mischief that didn't bode well for the success of their meeting. "Hello, Gareth." His lips opened into a wide, white-toothed smile. "You're looking well." Gareth inclined his head in lieu of proper greeting. "If you're waiting for me to return the compliment, you're going to be disappointed." Holden clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "As I recall, you were once quite taken with my charms. You were totally besotted." Gareth crossed to the table on the other side of the hearth and poured himself a generous helping of his strongest wine. "A condition you cured me of the day I found you in bed with Lachlan's chief man-at-arms." Holden offered no apology. "If you'd been a bit more attentive, I'd have had no need to seek my release elsewhere." Gareth took a hefty drink, then wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "Was there something you wanted, Holden, or is it safe to have you thrown out of here now?" Holden didn't answer. Instead, he sat down in one of the chairs on the dais and looked around the room. "I like this place, it is so much nicer now than when you first inherited Lachlan from your father. Kiel's doing, I suspect." Gareth tightened his grip on the cup. "Stop stalling and tell me why you're here."

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"I come bearing news. Why else do you think I'd make my way from the glorious realms of Stiles to this tiny little hamlet?" Calling a substantial holding like Lachlan a "tiny hamlet" was meant to be an insult, but Gareth refused to be goaded. Affecting a serene expression, he said, "If you've come to tell me of your betrothal to Denmar, I already know." "Heard about that, did you?" Holden grinned. "Father was ecstatic." "No doubt he feels as I do, that you and Denmar deserve one another." Gareth set his cup aside before coming to stand in front of Holden's chair. "Now that you've imparted your news, feel free to leave." "Ah, but I'm not finished," Holden said. "I came here to discuss not my marriage, but yours." "Kiel is a subject closed to you." Gareth kept his face an emotionless mask. "Don't test me." "You misunderstand me, Gareth." Holden leaned back in the chair, lounging as if he owned the castle itself. "'Tis not your former marriage but your pending nuptials I wish to speak of." Gareth cringed in spite of himself. "Good news travels fast, I see." "I doubt you'll think the news as good when I tell you what I've learned about your intended." "Save your gossip for someone who gives a damn." "Oh, but this is so much more than mere gossip." Holden was glowing, a bad omen. "The way I hear it, Alric of Kray is a man of unusual talents, indeed." 17

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"Enough, Holden." Gareth was done with the man. "You're boring me." "But you've yet to hear all the little details I gleaned. Things I imagine King Tristam forgot to tell you when he arranged this match." Holden looked up at him. "Then again, King Tristam may not have forgotten, after all. Perhaps he knew you'd never marry Alric of Kray if you were privy to his darker nature." Holden's insinuation that he'd been deliberately deceived didn't sit well with Gareth. "Tristam and I have no secrets between us." "Really?" Holden draped one arm over the back of the chair. "Then I suppose Tristam mentioned the special name given Alric by his father's people." "What are you talking about?" "The villagers in and around the castle call Alric the Devil of Kray." "Why would they call him that?" Before he could stop himself, the question spilled from Gareth's lips. "You mean you didn't know?" Holden feigned surprise. "Why, Alric is cursed, of course."

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Chapter Two "Cursed?" Gareth stopped just short of laughing outright. "I thought you a little old to believe in fairy stories." Holden wasn't the least offended. "Laugh all you will, but these particular 'fairy stories' have a nasty edge. Indeed, 'tis said in addition to being cursed your Alric is quite mad." "Madder than a grown man who gives credence to curses and gossip?" "Make light of it all you will," Holden said, "but we'll see who's laughing when you find yourself shackled to a crazed demon for the rest of your life." "Fine. The man is cursed." Gareth didn't want to listen to another word, but he had a feeling hearing Holden out was the only way to get rid of him without a scene. "So, what is it, then? A hideous pox on his skin? The need to change from man to dog in the pale moonlight?" "The King of Kray is so secretive when it comes to his son, no one seems to know the true nature of Alric's affliction." Holden lowered his voice. "I do know the man is much feared, not only because of the curse." Gareth shook his head. "What could be more fearsome than a curse?" "Murder, perhaps?" Holden smiled as he said it. "They say Alric killed his stepmother in cold blood." If Holden was hoping for a showing of surprise on Gareth's part, he wasn't going to get it. Keeping his expression impassive, Gareth said, "I don't believe you." 19

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"You never were one to see the truth. 'Tis why you and Kiel made such a fine pair." Holden cut his eyes up to meet Gareth's. "Poor Kiel never listened to reason, either." Gareth stilled. "What do you mean by that?" "Nothing, save that Kiel made a grave error when he turned down my Lord Denmar's advances." Holden stood and walked over to where Gareth was standing, stopping within a hairbreadth of his face. "I wonder if he'd accepted Denmar's hand when the man first offered it, would our dear little Kiel be alive right now?" Gareth's fist shot forward of its own free will, grabbing a handful of Holden's tunic and lifting him clear off the floor. He threw Holden down on the table, using his body to pin him against the coarse wood. "What know you of Kiel's death?" "Why, Gareth, I never knew you liked to play rough." Holden gave him an oily smile. "I'm not averse to a little pain, myself." "Tell me what you know, damn you." Gareth lifted him again, then slammed Holden down with all his strength. Still, Holden kept silent. Gareth was just before repeating the action again when a loud clearing of the throat registered in his rage-fogged brain. Still pinning Holden in place on the tabletop, Gareth turned his head to see Marcus standing behind him. "Beg pardon, my lord, but I thought certain you'd be alone by now." "What is it, Marcus?" Gareth didn't relinquish his hold on his prisoner. 20

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"A messenger from the King of Drystan is here, my lord." Marcus eyed Holden, who was fighting in vain to free himself from Gareth's grasp. "Shall I tell the man to wait?" "That won't be necessary." After a full moment's hesitation, Gareth released Holden and stepped back. "The Prince of Stiles was just leaving." "I should report you to my father and have you disemboweled for putting your hands on me." Holden glared up at him with defiance, but Gareth could see he was shaking. "You and I both know you won't do that." Gareth matched him glare for glare. "You glean far too much pleasure from these twisted games of yours to bring them to a permanent end." He folded his hands, making himself the picture of serenity. "Now get out of here before I do it again." "You can toss me about all you like, but it won't change anything." Holden gathered himself from the table and brushed the wrinkles from his clothes. "In the end you'll be sorry you didn't listen to me." "What I am sorry for is ever letting you in here." Gareth kicked at the rushes near Holden's feet. "Get out of my sight before you regret it." Something in Gareth's eyes must have convinced Holden he meant what he said. For once the man did as he was told without having to hear the order twice. **** Gareth read the missive from Drystan four times before the words sank in. The arrangements had been made, and 21

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the marriage banns were to be read at the High Council in three weeks. In little over a month, Gareth would travel to Drystan, teaming up with Tristam and his forces before journeying on to Kray. In the back of his mind, Holden's warnings echoed, but there was little Gareth could do about it, even if the rumors were true. For better or worse, Gareth was committed to a marriage he neither wanted nor needed. He only hoped going through with it would not prove a fatal mistake. **** Gareth's sleep that night was shallow and troubled. He rolled and tossed, the moon streaming through the high, narrow windows of his bedchamber in silent witness to his torment. This was the bed he'd shared with Kiel, the place he'd passed his nights in peace and pleasure, but tonight he found no comfort. Finally, after waking from the fourth or fifth restless nap of the evening, Gareth walked over to the high chest on the other side of the room, poured himself a stiff draught of dark ale, and downed it in one bracing gulp. For good measure, he poured himself another and repeated the action. Once his brain was numb enough, he climbed back beneath the covers and again sought sleep. This time, when oblivion came, it brought Kiel with it. He was standing by Gareth's bed, his brown eyes glowing. His skin looked pink and healthy in the moonlight, not the ghastly gray it was the last time Gareth had seen him. He pressed slender fingers against Gareth's cheek, fingers that felt warm and solid and real. 22

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"You can't be here." Gareth's voice was a harsh whisper against his own ears. "They told me you were gone." "I'm here now." Just like that, Kiel's clothes were gone and he was standing in nude glory for Gareth to see. "Just the two of us, the way it's always been." Gareth swallowed. He wanted so desperately to believe Kiel was here, to lose himself in those arms. "I've missed you." Kiel lifted back the velvet coverlet and slid into bed beside him. "Hush now. You called for me, and I came." He sealed his mouth over Gareth's, and that was all it took. Gareth rolled him over without ever letting go of his mouth. He kissed Kiel with the savage passion of a man long denied. He'd always been careful with Kiel before—always made certain not to be too rough—but tonight delicacy was beyond him. Kiel didn't seem to mind. He ran his hands up and down Gareth's back, his short fingernails biting into the skin. "I've always loved that you sleep without a nightdress. Have I ever told you that?" Gareth didn't answer, just reached between them to stroke Kiel's sweet member. Kiel wasn't an overly large or muscular man—he was lithe, almost graceful—but he had a long, slender prick that always fit perfectly in Gareth's hand or mouth. Gareth moved down, eager for a taste. Kiel stopped him. "Not now, love. I want you inside me. I want this to last us a lifetime." 23

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Gareth wasn't about to deny either of them. He spread Kiel's legs wide, using his fingers to open that glorious hole. He was surprised to find that Kiel—who'd always needed a great deal of oil and preparation before their couplings—was stretched, oiled, and ready. "I want you now," Kiel said as if answering the unspoken question. "I don't want to wait." Gareth lined himself up and slid home. Home. That's exactly what it felt like. After two years of living only a half life, Gareth felt vibrant and powerful again. His Kiel was back. Gareth could breath once more. He threaded his hands through Kiel's unruly mop of brown curls and anchored Kiel for his thrusts. Kiel's only response was a low, throaty moan. Gareth was on fire. His balls were tight and his cock was aching for release. "Too soon," he groaned into Kiel's ear. "Can't last." "I love you," Kiel whispered. "Remember that, and remember also that I want you to find happiness with your new husband. Love him, Gareth, the way I have loved you." The mention of his upcoming marriage was like a shock of cold water poured over Gareth's back. "Kiel, I'm sorry. I—" He tried to pull away, but Kiel wrapped his legs around Gareth's waist and held him tight. "You've nothing to be sorry for. I want this for you." Kiel tightened his inner muscles in the way that always hastened Gareth's release. "Come for me, my own. One last time." Gareth tried to stop it. He wanted to talk to Kiel, to tell him this new marriage meant nothing to him and never would. His 24

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body, on the other hand, had a mind of its own and soon Gareth was shuddering in the throes of ecstasy. He opened his mouth to scream and that's when Kiel's image dissolved into the moonlight as if it had never been. Gareth woke alone and covered in his own seed. It was a long, agonizing time later before he stumbled out of bed to clean himself and have another drink. **** The sun beat on Gareth's back, making him hot and irritable, but he made no mention of it. The ten-day trek to Kray had been trying enough for him and the more than one hundred soldiers traveling with them. Carrying on like a nagging shrew would help nothing. Besides, Tristam was doing enough complaining for the both of them. "I swear, 'tis usually cooler this time of year." Gareth rolled his eyes. "You've said as much four times already." "At least I'm making some attempt at conversation." Tristam wiped the sweat from his brow. "You've hardly said more than two words the entire way." "What would you have me say?" Gareth jerked as his stallion tripped over a stone on the rocky terrain. "Over two months have passed since I sent my messenger to inform you the match was set." Tristam led his horse around a grayish rock mass before coming back to Gareth's side. "You've had plenty of time to get used to the idea." "And your point is?" 25

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"You could at least ask me something about your betrothed." Tristam raised his voice to be heard over the din of horses' hooves as their party clattered up the hillside. "Honestly, Gareth, you act as if you care to know nothing at all about the man." "I don't." Gareth reined his mount away from a scrubby pine sapling. "Besides, Holden told me more than enough about Alric of Kray to last a lifetime." "Lies, I'd wager." Tristam curled his lip. "Holden can't stand the thought of you marrying anyone save him. He acted the same way when you wed Kiel." "The difference being, I wanted to marry Kiel. Holden knows me well enough to know how I feel about this latest betrothal." "I wish Maris were here." Tristam sighed. "She'd be able to convince you this marriage is exactly what is needed." "I doubt it, but if she were here at least you'd have something to occupy your time besides your myriad complaints." Gareth softened the rebuke with a smile. "Was Maris disappointed about not being able to come?" "She was hoping to attend the ceremony, but she understood my reasons for not wanting her to make the trek. 'Tis too dangerous with Denmar on the prowl and out for blood." "I'm sure Maris knows you had only her best interests at heart." Gareth blinked against the glare as he and Tristam crested the hill. Once atop, he saw a wealth of fertile forestland on the other side. "Is this it?" 26

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Tristam followed his gaze. "We've reached the Kray border." Gareth only nodded. The rising dread in his stomach had him too nauseous to open his mouth. **** They arrived at Kray Castle just as the sun was setting. The walls surrounding the castle proper were at least two score high of polished stone, the gates heavy and escapeless. Over the tops of the walls marched no less than sixty armed men, and readied archers patrolled the watchtowers. Tristam made some inane remark about Kray's fortitude, but it only reminded Gareth the noose was tightening around his neck. Gareth and Tristam left their soldiers at the gates and rode into the outer bailey alone. A small contingent of guards and servants awaited them there. A nervous little man with a long nose, declining hair, and protruding ears rushed into the courtyard as Tristam and Gareth were dismounting. After ordering the stable master to see to their horses, the man bowed low before them. "Your Majesty and Your Lordship, welcome to Kray. 'Tis an honor to have you here." He straightened. "I am Bertrand, King Declan's steward. If you will but follow me, I'll show you to your rooms so that you may freshen from your journey." Gareth and Tristam fell in step behind him. While Tristam conversed with Bertrand about their accommodations, Gareth took a moment to survey his surroundings. The outer bailey led way to an inner courtyard of quiet splendor. A bubbling fountain in the center of the yard was 27

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surrounded by four low-set stone benches. A wealth of sweetsmelling flowers bloomed throughout the enclosure. Gareth barely had time to take in the beauty of the place before Bertrand whisked them through an archway and into a side hall of the castle. "These are the guest quarters," Bertrand said as he led them down the corridor. "You'll find a hallway to your left which leads into the common area of the castle. On the other side of that is a staircase that takes you up to the king's chambers and Prince Alric's, as well." Bertrand paused long enough to cast his eyes on Gareth. "I imagine you'll be seeing the prince's rooms soon enough, aye my lord?" The rascal had the nerve to wink. Gareth was about to respond when Tristam stepped in. "Bertrand, have you any idea when we'll be meeting with King Declan?" His voice was laced with amusement. "His Majesty would like to see you first thing in the morning," Bertrand said. "King Declan wanted to give you time to rest from your travels." He stopped in front of a row of doors. "Your rooms will be on the right, Your Highness," Bertrand said to Tristam, "and yours are on the left, Lord Lachlan. I took the liberty of ordering trenchers of food and hot baths for you both." "I thank you for your kindness, Bertrand." Tristam glanced back the way they'd come. "I trust that my soldiers are also being cared for?" "Without question, Sire. King Declan's chief man-at-arms was ordered to attend the duty himself." Bertrand took a step 28

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back. "Should either of you require anything further, I am at your disposal." Tristam thanked Bertrand once more before dismissing him, but Gareth said nothing. He had no pleasantries to offer. Tristam started to open his door, but stopped to look back at Gareth, instead. "Perhaps you should stay in my chambers tonight. I'm certain there's plenty of room, and I'd understand if you didn't want to be alone in a strange place." "I'm certain Maris would love hearing you and I had shared a bed." Gareth made a face. "I'm a grown man, Tristam, not a babe away from his mother for the first time." He pushed open the door to his own rooms. "I know what you're worried about, and you needn't be. I'm not going to slip away in the middle of the night." "I never thought you would," Tristam said. Despite his words, his shoulders relaxed a fraction. "I bid you goodnight, then. We'll face King Declan together at first light." "Goodnight." Gareth slipped into his chambers before Tristam could say anything else. The guest quarters were lavish, with separate rooms for dining, sleeping, and sitting. Gareth was about to sit down in one of the inviting chairs before the hearth when a servant rushed into the room, ushering in two more men who carried a large metal tub. The three servants traveled back and forth, pouring in bucket upon bucket of steaming water until the tub was filled to the brim. A fourth servant appeared with Gareth's bags, placing them on a chest near the door.

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One of the men offered to stay and assist Gareth with his bath, but Gareth declined. Truth be told, he was looking forward to a moment alone. He bathed with relish, enjoying the feel of coming clean again after ten days spent traveling dusty roads. Afterwards, Gareth went to work removing ten days' growth of beard with his dagger. He'd just finished shaving when the lead servant came back in bearing a trencher of food and a jug of wine. Once his belly was full, Gareth finally allowed the exhaustion of travel to overtake him. He stretched out nude on the bed and closed his eyes. He thought sure he'd fall straight to sleep, but the moment he sank into the softness of the mattress, Gareth's mind began to wander and sleep drifted out of his reach. He tossed and turned for what seemed an eternity before finally conceding that what he most needed was a walk, something to clear his head. While dressing in clean clothes pulled from his saddlebags, he remembered the courtyard they'd passed through on their way to the guestrooms. His destination set, Gareth pulled on his boots and then made for the door. The heat of the day had given way to a cool breeze that seeped through the fine linen of his tunic. Gareth relaxed into the solitude of the moonlit courtyard as he walked over to the fountain. He didn't see the man standing in his path, but he felt the bone jarring collision as the two of them tangled and fell to the ground in a heap. 30

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Gareth rolled away from the hapless stranger and then came to his feet. "My apologies." He held out his hand. "I didn't see you standing there." "I should hope not." Throaty laughter sounded across the quiet space. "I'd hate to think you greet everyone you meet by knocking them on their arse." Warm and sturdy fingers wrapped around Gareth's as the man allowed himself to be pulled upright. With such scant light, Gareth couldn't see well enough to make out the other man's face. He couldn't see, but he could feel. The minute the stranger's skin made contact with his own, a hot flush snaked through Gareth's body. He hurried to break the contact, so caught up in the unwelcome sensation, Gareth didn't realize he was being spoken to. "What?" "I said, were you injured?" The stranger let free with another rich laugh. "You took a hard fall." "I'm fine save for my sorely bruised pride. And you?" "None the worse for wear. Care to sit down and tell me what has you so vexed that you ran me down?" "There's not much to tell." Gareth took the offered seat, sensing when his companion took the bench across from his. "I came out here for a breath of air, 'tis all." "Couldn't sleep?" Gareth sighed. "How did you know?" "I suffer from the same malady, on occasion." He hesitated. "I take it there's a reason for your lack of slumber." 31

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"You could say that. It isn't every day a man travels across three kingdoms to wed a perfect stranger." "You must be Gareth of Lachlan." "I am. And you are?" "Allow me to introduce myself." The man stood and bowed low. "A perfect stranger, at your service." Gareth was near speechless. "You mean you're..." "Afraid so." The other man took in a deep breath. "I'm Alric of Kray, your future husband."

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Chapter Three "I'm sorry." Gareth was grateful the darkness hid his reddening cheeks. "I sounded as if I don't care to marry you, didn't I?" "'Tis the truth, is it not?" Alric shrugged. "I can't imagine there's a man alive who relishes being ordered to marry against his will." "Then this marriage isn't something you want, either?" Another shrug. "I value my freedom as much as the next man." The notion that Alric might be as reluctant to wed as he was had never occurred to Gareth. He thought perhaps he could feel an odd sort of kinship with the man. "I know why I fought this arrangement," Gareth said, "but what are your reasons for wanting free of the match?" Alric hesitated for so long, Gareth didn't think he was going to answer. Finally, he said, "Perhaps I'll reveal my mysteries to you some day, but not just yet." Though his words were far from sensual, the husky tone of Alric's voice sent thin fingers of heat trailing down Gareth's spine. For over two years, Gareth's body had lain dormant to any but the most basic of sensations. To have it awaken now—in the presence of a man who was being forced on him—was unwelcome, to say the least. He did his best to cover his discomfort. "You're a man of secrets, then?"

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"We all have our secrets, Gareth of Lachlan." A hint of sadness colored Alric's words. "Not a man alive escapes life's blessings ... or its curses." A chill brushed over the surface of Gareth's skin. Until now, he'd completely forgotten Holden's warnings. He continued with caution. "You seem to have faired well enough." "But you cannot see me in the darkness, now can you? Be wary, Gareth of Lachlan. The light has a way of revealing things best kept hidden." Gareth was about to question Alric's meaning when a sudden breeze blew in, bringing with it an acrid smell— something akin to smoke—that blotted out the fragrance of the flowers and burned Gareth's nostrils. He turned to ask Alric if he smelled it as well, and that is when Gareth realized he was alone. He thought about searching the courtyard, but somehow he knew it would be of no use. With a shake of his head, Gareth headed back inside. **** The next morning, Gareth was standing in the door to his rooms when Tristam stepped out into the corridor. Tristam took one look at Gareth's sleep-starved face and whistled. "Had a hard night, did you?" If only he knew. After his encounter with Alric, Gareth's insomnia had escalated. He'd finally given up on sleep just before dawn, but he wasn't going to admit as much to Tristam. 34

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In the face of Gareth's silence, Tristam looked him up and down again, then sighed. "Not the best impression to give King Declan." Gareth shrugged. "Perhaps he'll be so disappointed by the look of me, he'll call off the wedding." Tristam ignored him. "Well, there's no help for your appearance. Declan will just have to take what he gets." "Please, no more compliments. You'll swell my head." "If you want pretty words, hire a troubadour. We've a king to charm." Tristam grabbed Gareth's sleeve and pulled him out of the doorway just as Bertrand came down the hall. If Bertrand noticed the tension in the two men, he was wise enough not to comment. He bowed to them both and said, "King Declan wishes an audience with you now." Tristam and Gareth both started down the corridor, but Bertrand gave a nervous shake of his head. Looking to Tristam, he said, "Actually, Sire, King Declan wishes to speak with Lord Lachlan alone." "A breech of the usual etiquette, is it not?" Tristam leaned his back against the wall, adopting a deceptively casual stance. "Kings typically meet together to discuss the marriage contracts of their heirs." "Beg ... begging your pardon, Sire," Bertrand said in a high squeak, "King Declan hopes that under the circumstances, you'll understand his desire for a private audience with Lord Lachlan." Tristam looked to Gareth. "'Tis your choice. If you're uncomfortable with this, I'll insist upon an adherence to the usual rules." 35

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Gareth shook his head. "I have to meet the man sooner or later. May as well have done with it." He clapped Tristam on the shoulder. "If I have need of you, you'll know it." "Of that, I have no doubt." Tristam pushed away from the wall, giving Gareth a thin smile before returning to his room. With little other option, Gareth followed Bertrand down the corridor and through the great hall to a set of stairs on the far side of the keep. "His majesty will see you in his personal chambers, Lord Lachlan," Bertrand said. "'Tis a great honor he bestows on you." Gareth nodded despite feeling anything save honored. He felt more like a lamb on its way to slaughter. Bertrand stopped in front of a jewel-encrusted door and made one solid knock. A hoarse but firm voice bade them enter. Bertrand pushed the door wide, but made no move to go in. "I'll be waiting here to escort you to the ceremony after your audience with the king." "Ceremony?" A jolt of panic prickled Gareth's spine. "What ceremony?" "King Declan will explain it all to you, my lord." Bertrand flushed, as if he'd said too much. "You mustn't keep the king waiting." Guessing he wasn't going to get anything further from Bertrand, Gareth entered the king's rooms determined to gain some answers. The royal suite was much the same as the guest quarters. Same fine furnishings, same lavish décor. The difference in 36

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the king's rooms and the others was the smell. Someone had used incense and perfume in an attempt to mask the odor, but Gareth recognized the underlying scent, having smelled enough of it during his mother's long illness and Kiel's brief torment. The unmistakable stench of impending death. The King of Kray was sitting behind a golden writing table, his thin and trembling fingers prodding a quill over a piece of parchment. He looked up as Gareth came in, and Gareth was astonished by what he saw. Kray was a walking skeleton. His pale gray eyes were cloudy and wet, the bones of his face clearly visible through his sagging skin. What little hair he retained was matted and yellowed, not unlike the yellowed color of his flesh. "Come in, Lord Lachlan." A thin chuckle rose from Kray's mouth. "I have nothing catching, I assure you." Gareth berated himself for staring. "My apologies, Your Highness." He fell to one knee and bowed his head. "Get up, get up." Kray waved his hand for Gareth to rise. He pointed to the chair just in front of his writing table. "Be seated. We've much to discuss." Gareth sat down, and Kray wasted no time cutting straight to the point. "I understand you're the bastard son of Jarric of Vale." If Kray expected Gareth to be ashamed of his heritage, he was in for a disappointment. Gareth simply crossed his arms over his chest and said, "I am." "I knew your father. A good man." Kray laid aside his quill. "Were you close?" 37

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"We were." Gareth didn't try to stop the smile that creased his lips. "I fostered under him." Kray raised one scant brow. "A most unusual circumstance, is it not, for a king to foster his own illegitimate offspring?" "My father was above convention." "That he was." Kray studied Gareth's face for a moment. "You look like Jarric." He reclined his chair so that it was propped on two legs, his hands braced upon the table's edge. "I understand Nadar inherited your father's throne." At the mention of Nadar—the brother who hated him— Gareth stiffened, but he did his best to hide the reaction from Kray. "Why wouldn't he?" he said as casually as he could. "Our father was married to Nadar's mother, not mine. I may be two years older than he is, but Nadar is the rightful heir of Vale." "Ah, but your father left you a fine holding at Lachlan, not to mention a hefty purse to go with it." Kray laughed, a rusty, creaking sound. "I imagine that rankled your brother no end." "Perhaps, but there was nothing he could do about it. My father made certain the High King and the Council backed his decision to make me a part of his inheritance." Gareth shifted in his seat. "No offense, Majesty, but I don't see what my family history has to do with our meeting." "I mention it only to illustrate the importance of family bonds to me." Kray straightened. "I have one son and one daughter, both of whom I'd die for without so much as a blink if the need arose." 38

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"If you love your son as you say, why saddle him with a bastard?" In the face of Kray's questions about his parentage, Gareth decided to be blunt. "I couldn't care less what side of the blankets you were created on," Kray said. "I've done much study on you, Lord Lachlan. I know you to be an honorable man, just the sort of mate I want for my son." "Bertrand mentioned escorting me to a ceremony after I leave your chambers." Gareth narrowed his eyes. "Surely you don't mean to have the wedding today?" Kray sighed. "Bertrand talks too much, but as he's the third cousin of my first wife, I was honor bound to make him my steward." He rested his hands flat upon the desk. "In this case, however, Bertrand is right. Necessity warrants you and my son to be joined at the earliest hour possible." He hesitated, but only for a moment. "Word has it Lucien of Denmar is on his way here." "To what purpose?" Just the mention of Denmar's name had Gareth seething inside. "Surely he isn't daft enough to believe he can wage war against Kray." "I don't believe war is Denmar's intention," Kray said. "I believe he's coming here strictly to cause mischief." "Damn the man, anyway." Gareth tightened his fingers into fists. "What I wouldn't give to have Denmar squirming on the end of my sword." "Ill though I am, I'd welcome such an opportunity myself." Kray cleared his throat. "Enough about Denmar. We're here to discuss your marriage to my son." He locked eyes with 39

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Gareth. "A marriage, I understand, that you wish to avoid at all costs." Gareth didn't deny it. "I was married once before, a good marriage to a good man. I've no wish to wed again and tarnish my late husband's memory." Gareth expected Kray to argue. Instead, the man nodded. "I know how you feel. The day Alric's mother died, so too, died my heart." He fell silent for a moment, and when again he spoke, there was a hard edge to his voice. "However sympathetic I am to your plight, I see as more important the necessity of this match. I'm hoping you see it as well." "I'm here, am I not?" Gareth watched Kray carefully. "Meaning no disrespect, Sire, but just what do you get out of this marriage?" "I receive the satisfaction of knowing my son is well cared for," Kray said. "Is that not enough?" It would have been, had Gareth not been certain Kray was hiding something. Before he could voice his reservations, Kray continued. "Now, then, let us discuss the arrangements of the contract." The sound of that made Gareth nervous. "I thought all had been settled." "I'm talking about what's to happen after the nuptials," Kray said. "You and Alric will be joint rulers of Kray upon my passing. You will, of course, live here after your marriage." Gareth had known it was coming, but the thought of losing Lachlan made his heart ache. "As you mentioned a moment ago, I have my own holding, Majesty." 40

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"One you shall keep, but as ruler of Kray you'll have responsibilities here—things you can't possibly handle from so far away." Having settled the matter to his satisfaction, Kray moved on. "After the wedding, you and Alric will journey to Hume and pay tribute to my son-in-law." "Hume, Sire?" "You mean no one told you?" Kray sounded surprised. "My daughter, Glenna, is the Queen of Hume—wife to King Rowan. As she is round with child and unable to travel to Kray for the ceremony, you and Alric must go to Hume and pay your respects as a newly joined couple." Gareth had heard much about Rowan of Hume. He was a powerful man, an ally any king would be grateful to have on his side. No wonder Kray was bent on keeping him happy. He nodded to the king. "Is that all, Sire?" "Not quite." Kray lowered his voice. "I also expect you and my son to procure an heir by whatever means you choose." Sour acid burned the back of Gareth's throat. He wanted no part in bringing an innocent babe into a loveless union. "If your daughter is with child, Majesty, would not her offspring be able to claim the throne of Kray?" "Glenna and Rowan already have a son, a boy of three named Stefan." Pride marked Kray's words. "A fine lad who could inherit both kingdoms, but that isn't what I want, either for Stefan or Alric." His eyes grew moist. "I want my son to know the joys of fatherhood. I trust you'll not deny him that?" Privately Gareth vowed to do his damnedest to talk Alric out of taking on heirs, but telling the king as much would only 41

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make an already unbearable situation worse. To Kray he only nodded again, which seemed to be enough for the man. "That's all then, save for one thing." Kray stood, waiting until Gareth rose as well to say, "There is nothing in this world so precious to me as my children." Kray's eyes lost some of their cloudiness, then. "Mistreat my son and I swear by The Creator Himself that I will hunt you down and make you pay." Despite Kray's frail condition, Gareth believed him. "Understood." "I'll leave you to show yourself out, then." Kray pointed to the door. "If I know Bertrand, he'll be waiting for you." Gareth left the king's chambers a moment later, feeling more uneasy now than when Holden had delivered his warning. It seemed he was starting to believe in curses, after all. If ever a man was hexed, he was. **** Alric stood on the balcony, watching as Gareth of Lachlan walked back across the great hall. The man was even more glorious than their moonlight encounter had led Alric to believe. Gareth was tall, with close-cropped hair the color of golden sand and a strong profile that spoke of confidence and power. Alric wondered what it would be like to be possessed by such a man, to be touched by those wide, long-fingered hands. Pushing himself away from the railing, Alric shook his head to clear it of foolish notions. No man would ever really want him again, least of all a man like Gareth. Once the truth of 42

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what he was came to light, Alric would either be used as before or cast aside. He was hard pressed to tell which fate was worse, but he had a feeling he was about to find out. **** An hour after his meeting with Kray, Gareth stood in the sun-dappled courtyard with Tristam by his side, the two of them waiting for the ceremony to start. "Are you certain the only reason Kray gave for having the ceremony today was the risk that Denmar might be coming here?" With the toe of his boot, Gareth kicked a stone towards the makeshift alter of rose vines and ivy. "As sure as I was the first three times you asked me that question." "Sorry." Tristam ran his fingers through his hair. "I just can't believe Kray's insisting on having the wedding today. 'Tis usual to have at least a week of prenuptial celebration before the speaking of the vows." "Kray is wise enough to know I'd get out of this if I could," Gareth said. "Perhaps he wants me wed to his son before I think of a way to save myself." Before Tristam had time to respond, the priest approached them. The old man wore the hooded saffron robes of the Burl order and carried an ewer of water in his hands. He bowed to Tristam, then turned to Gareth. "Lord Lachlan, I take it?" At Gareth's nod, the priest said, "I'm Father Arden. If you'll follow me, I'll see you sanctified before the vows." 43

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Gareth left Tristam standing near the altar and followed the priest to a quiet alcove a fair distance from the courtyard. Arden administered the sanctification rites, then asked Gareth if he had anything he needed to confess. Gareth thought long and hard about confessing that he'd rather be picked apart by wild beasts than get married, but in the end he decided against it. He had a feeling Father Arden was simply asking because he had to, not because he really cared to know. As soon as Arden was done, he instructed Gareth to say his prayers to The Creator and then left him alone in the alcove. Gareth muttered a few memorized verses and then turned to go back into the courtyard proper. Not until he heard a loud grunt did Gareth realize he'd run headlong into someone else. Gareth reached down to help the man to his feet. Instead, he found himself staring into the most captivating gray eyes he'd ever seen. Eyes like liquid silver. Those same eyes danced with mischief as they looked up into Gareth's. "I'm beginning to think this is how we're to start all our meetings." That voice. Gareth knew it instantly, recognizing the husky timbre and rich quality. Alric of Kray sat in full daylight, no shadows to hide his slightly crooked nose or the chiseled angles of his face. He hoisted himself aright, brushing the grass from his hose with his fingertips. He stood almost as tall as Gareth, and not even the lightless black hue of his clothing could hide the sculpted lines of his muscular body. 44

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Alric smiled when he caught Gareth staring at him. "Don't tell me one solid knock has rendered you senseless?" "No." Gareth shook his head, more to clear it than to disagree. "I was searching for a way to apologize yet again for pummeling you to the ground." Alric laughed. "No harm done." He pushed wayward strands of midnight hair away from his face. "If your aim is to get me flat on my back, I know of much easier ways to go about it." Images flashed in Gareth's mind then, pictures of heated flesh and bodies entwined. He stepped back involuntarily, unable to understand or accept the unwelcome effect this man had over him. "I assure you, I had no such intent." "As I said, no harm done." If Alric took offense to Gareth's curt response, he didn't show it. "Father Arden bade me fetch you. He's ready to start the ceremony whenever you are." Gareth nodded and was about to follow Alric to the altar when a horn sounded from close by. Alric tensed. "The alarm. Only an approaching enemy would cause the horns to sound today." He made for the courtyard. Gareth matched Alric stride for stride as they wound their way back through the bailey. "Does Kray have many enemies?" Alric shook his head. "I can think of but two." He might have said more had the King of Kray not chosen that moment to come barreling from the castle. Kray's face was a ghastly shade. "'Tis Denmar. He's been spotted on the ridge, and with him a full contingent." 45

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Tristam came to stand beside them. "The scum dares interrupt the union of our heirs, and with an army, no less?" His eyes flashed hatred. "If 'tis a battle he's after, I say we give it to him." "War is not his intent." Alric's lips fell into a grim line. "He's sending me a message." Gareth wasn't certain what those words meant, but the tone of Alric's voice chilled him to the marrow. The cold dread intensified when Alric said, "Father, go back to your rooms and have the healer take a look at you. I'll handle Denmar." "I'll not have you riding out to confront that mongrel." Kray shook his head with violence enough to rattle his teeth. "Let the soldiers deal with him." "No. 'Tis me he's after." Without giving his father a chance to argue further, Alric headed for the stables. Tristam looked to Gareth, his hand on the hilt of his sword. "Surely we aren't going to allow Denmar to come and go without giving him our own personal greeting?" Gareth's smile was pure malice. "I wouldn't dream of it." "Only remember your promise to me, brother." Tristam took hold of Gareth's arm. "You cannot claim vengeance against Denmar for Kiel's death. Not until all is in place." "I'll keep my vow unless Denmar proves foolish enough to challenge me." Gareth salivated at the thought. "If that happens I'll slit the whoreson's throat and not think twice about it." Tristam didn't answer, nor did Gareth expect him to. For the moment, nothing else needed to be said. **** 46

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By the time the horses were saddled, Denmar had reached the castle wall. Clad in mail and fully armed, Alric—flanked by an equally protected Gareth and Tristam—led an even mixture of Kray and Drystan's soldiers toward the gates. Gareth rode at Alric's left, his head full of questions. Alric had said that Denmar was after him, but why and to what purpose? His unease grew when they came to the gates and Wycaster, the captain of Kray's guard, rode up beside Alric. "Prince Alric, I must advise against this." Wycaster's face was obscured by his helmet, but the man's worry was apparent. "Your concern is noted," Alric said, "but 'tis my choice to make." "As you wish, my prince." Wycaster bowed his head, then turned his horse back into position. "You've only to say the word and my guards will step in." Alric nodded, then gave the signal for the watch commander to open the gates. Once the chore was done, Alric kicked his horse forward and led the way out. Denmar sat astride a roan stallion several paces from where the rest of his men waited. His wiry body was leaned forward on the horse, alert and ready. He was clad in mail but wore no headgear, exposing the wicked flash of his dark eyes. He looked exactly the same as he had the last time Gareth had seen him save for one thing: his right cheek was marred from eye to chin with the crisp red aftermath of a burn. Alric edged his horse forward until he and Denmar were a stone's throw apart. Gareth and Tristam were right with him, 47

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swords at the ready. Denmar gave both Tristam and Gareth a nod of acknowledgment, but his soulless eyes remained fastened on Alric. "Greetings, sweet prince." Denmar's sneer made mockery of the endearment. "When I came to pay my respects to you and Lord Lachlan, I never expected to receive a personal audience. To what do I owe this honor?" Gareth was about to say something, but Tristam gave a subtle shake of his head, the message clear: Denmar was Alric's to deal with. "Your respects—such that they are—have been noted." Alric looked Denmar in the eye. "Now I suggest you leave my land before I get the impression you're here to make trouble." "Is that anyway to greet me?" Denmar snaked his tongue over the top of his white teeth. "I remember a time when you craved my company." A muscle in Alric's jaw twitched. "Leave now, Lord Denmar, ere I call my army to deal with you." "So formal, calling me by my title as if we were nothing more than passing acquaintances. There was a time when you called me Lucien, or have you forgotten?" Denmar lowered his voice, though he kept up enough volume so all could hear. "'Twas always such a sweet sound when you called my name, especially when we were beneath the blankets together." Gareth jerked back as if slapped, then trained wide, unbelieving eyes on Alric. "What's this he says?" Before Alric could reply, Denmar said, "You mean Alric didn't tell you?" A smile played across his lips. "Alric, you wound me." 48

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Just the possibility of what Denmar was implying made Gareth ill. "Are you claiming to be Alric's lover?" "Lovers? Of course not." Denmar's smile widened into a chilling grin. "Alric was my husband rightly wed."

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Chapter Four Alric wanted nothing more than for the ground to open and swallow him whole. He could tell by the look on Gareth's face that he hadn't known about Alric's marriage to Denmar. He swallowed. There'd be time enough to deal with Gareth later. Now's task was to rid himself of Denmar. "Was is right," Alric said. "I was your husband, before the High Council annulled the marriage for the ill-formed abomination it was." He narrowed his eyes. "I suggest you leave now before I lose my temper." Denmar caught Alric's meaning at once, but he wasn't cowed. "We both know that will never happen, don't we?" He folded his hands over the stallion's neck. "You would never attack a man who poses you no threat." Denmar's very existence was a threat and they both knew it. Alric lifted one hand in warning. "Care to try me?" Behind him, a series of whistling snicks told him his soldiers were unsheathing their swords. Denmar laughed. "Peace, Alric. I've done what I came for." He glanced first at Gareth, then at Tristam. "From the look of it, I arrived just in time." He motioned his men to turn back, then said to Alric, "Before I go, allow me to make you an offer. If by some chance Lord Lachlan should find you ... lacking, please feel free to call on me." His eyes gave Alric a frank going over. "I'd break my betrothal to Holden of Stiles in a scant second for a chance to renew my vows with you." 50

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Denmar's expression sickened him. Alric wished by all that was holy he could forget all the man had taken from him. Knowing it was futile, Alric said nothing, just watched in silence as Denmar turned to go. Denmar guided his horse in the opposite direction, but stopped short a second after he'd started and turned sideways in his saddle. He pulled a smallish sack from his saddlebags and tossed it high in the air, giving a satisfied grunt when Alric caught it. "A token of our marriage," he said. "Perhaps 'twill inspire fond memories." With those words hanging in the air between them, Denmar and his men rode off. Having a good idea what was inside the sack, Alric dared not open it in front of the others. Instead, he tucked the thing into his belt and then guided his horse back through the gates and into the bailey. He knew from the sounds behind him the others had followed him in. Wycaster approached as Alric was dismounting. "With your permission, my prince, I'll send a contingent to escort Lord Denmar and his army to the border." "That won't be necessary." Alric handed his stallion over to a stable boy. "Denmar poses no further threat this day. By his own words, he did what he set out to do." He swallowed against the bile stinging his throat as he watched Gareth and Tristam dismount. "If you'll excuse me," he said as the two closed in on him, "I must see to my father." Alric headed for the castle main without giving either of them a chance to reply. 51

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Gareth and Tristam caught up with Alric as he entered the great hall. Tristam stepped into his path, blocking Alric's way to the staircase. "This is an outrage," he said. "Your father deliberately misled me." "Since I was not privy to your meetings with my father, I have only your word on that." Alric tried to sidestep him. "Regardless, your concerns will have to wait. 'Tis possible Denmar's appearance caused my father a setback. I must attend his needs." "No doubt he knows his lies have been exposed." Tristam again thwarted Alric's exit, this time grabbing him by the arm. "Tell your faithless sire I'll not bind my heir to a family of lying scum." Alric felt the rage gathering inside him then, the heat licking at his fevered brain. He whirled, giving Tristam no time to prepare for the hand that grabbed his throat. "Call me anything you like. Slander my name, curse the air that I breathe." Alric increased the pressure, his fingers digging deep into Tristam's neck. "But should you speak against my father again, not even The Creator Himself will be able to save you." From the corner of his eye, Alric saw that Gareth had his sword and was advancing on him. Unwilling to allow the debacle to become a blood bath, Alric let go of Tristam's throat in a movement so sudden Tristam staggered back. Giving them both a last glance, Alric said, "I'll convey to my father your wishes to void the contract." He left them 52

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standing where they were as he made for the stairs on the other side of the hall. Not until he reached the outer door of his father's chambers did Alric realize Denmar's gift was still tucked into his belt. He pulled it free and released the strings, staring down at the grizzly contents for a long moment before summoning a passing servant. The woman bowed low. "How may I serve ye, me prince?" Alric passed her the sack. "Burn this." He opened the door to his father's chamber and stepped inside without looking back. Immediately, his ears were hit with the strident sounds of an argument. He rounded the corner to find his father lying in bed. The healer was standing over him, the two of them in the middle of a heated debate. "I told you I'll have no more of that vile brew," Declan said, "and no amount of your poking and prodding will force it down me." The healer, a stoop-shouldered man of indeterminate years, wasn't backing down. "And as I told you, Sire, drinking the potions I mix for you is the only way to purge your body of the sickness." "I'm dying, you fool." Declan waved the man away. "You could pour a barrel of that down my throat and 'twould be of no use." He caught sight of Alric then. "My son, tell this old goat to leave me alone and let me die in peace." "Certainly, Father. I'll tell him just as soon as you take your medicine." 53

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Declan eyed Alric like a petulant child for a long moment before grabbing the cup from the healer and downing the mixture. When he'd finished complaining about everything from the temperature of the stuff to the taste, Declan bade the healer leave and turned to his son. "Well? What did Denmar have to say for himself?" "You know why he came here." Alric sat down in a chair next to the bed. "How could you lead me to believe Lord Lachlan and King Tristam knew of my marriage to Denmar?" "You mean they did not?" "Don't play the fool with me, Father. It doesn't suit you." Declan leaned back against the pillows and sighed. It pained Alric to see how frail and lifeless his father was becoming, but he dared not let Declan see his reaction lest the proud man take it for pity. Instead, Alric sat silently by the bedside and waited for an answer. Declan was quiet for so long, Alric thought perhaps he'd fallen asleep. Finally, Declan said, "I knew if Tristam learned of your marriage to Denmar—however brief the union—he'd never agree to match you with Lachlan." "You had to know Tristam and Gareth would find out." Alric bit back a groan over the mess his father had made. "No matter how well you kept my previous marriage hidden, you knew Denmar would brag of it the first chance he got." "He has not the right to brag on it, damn him." Declan's face turned from yellowed chalk to pulsing red. "That marriage never should have taken place." Alric got up to grab a clean cloth from a chest near the bed. He dipped it into the bowl of water the healer had left on 54

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a nearby table, then, with gentle fingers, he mopped his father's ruddy brow. "You mustn't upset yourself." "Denmar won't rest until he has you again," Declan rasped. "You need a protector. A man like Gareth of Lachlan." "I can take care of myself." Alric laughed, a sound totally devoid of humor. "Considering Gareth hates the very sight of me now, the contract is null." "Denmar's announcement today changes nothing." Declan pushed Alric's hand away. "The documents have been signed and the banns have been read. Were Tristam to cry off now, 'twould be a grievous breach. Not even the High King or the Council would fault me for going to war over such an insult." Alric was so stunned he dropped the cloth to the floor. "Father, you cannot think to force this marriage." "I can and I will." "I refuse to go through with this," Alric said. "Gareth already had his reasons for not wanting this alliance. I won't force his hand." "If you refuse to say the vows, I will go to war against Drystan, and your brother-in-law will stand with me." Declan folded his arms over his chest. "Not only will King Tristam and his heir be crushed, you'll risk Rowan's life and the lives of his men in the process." "I cannot believe you would condemn your own son to a lifetime with a man who hates him." Alric knew his father had a merciless side, but never had it been directed at him. "I'll do whatever it takes to keep you from Denmar's clutches." Declan closed his eyes. "You may go now. And send in Bertrand on your way out." 55

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Alric quit his father's rooms, his heart hammering with painful force as he went. It seemed he was damned no matter which course he took. If this was The Creator's way of making him atone for his sins, Alric was certainly paying the price. **** Gareth paced the floor of Tristam's chambers. He'd taken a visit to the stables a few minutes before, hoping a brisk walk would cool his anger. It hadn't worked. Tristam was sitting near the fire, holding a wet cloth to his bruised throat. "If you make one more circle around this room, I swear I shall throttle you." "As Alric throttled you, you mean?" Gareth balled his fists. "I could kill him for that insult, alone." "I brought it upon myself the moment I spoke against his father," Tristam said. "Neither you nor I would have stood by while a man said as much about our own fathers, and you know it." "You had every right to be angry. Kray had no just cause to conceal the truth of his son's first marriage from us." Tristam removed the cloth from his throat and tossed it aside. "Perhaps, but we don't know the circumstances of Prince Alric's union with Denmar, now do we?" "You're changing your position?" Gareth stared at him with open astonishment. "An hour ago, you were ready to quit Kray and let the Under Realms take all those left behind her walls. Now, of a sudden, you change your mind?" "I had a visitor while you were gone." Tristam cleared his throat. "Bertrand." 56

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Gareth snorted. "Come to convey Kray's apologies, I'll wager." "'Tis one bet you'd lose. Bertrand came to tell me that, should the exchange of vows between you and Prince Alric fail to take place before noon tomorrow, King Declan will consider the contract breached, and a war between Kray and Drystan will be declared." Gareth closed his eyes and propped himself against the wall. "A war we have no hope of winning." "Not if we called up every ally we have." Tristam leaned back in his chair. "I'm so damned sorry about this, Gareth. Had I only known—" He broke off as Gareth crossed the room. "Where are you going?" Gareth paused at the door. "To find the one man who can put an end to this before 'tis too late." **** Alric was standing in the dying light of the courtyard, trying to think his way out of this nightmare, when the snapping of a twig told him he was no longer alone. He turned to see Gareth standing behind him, spoiling for a fight. "Tristam had a visit from Bertrand a few moments ago." Gareth looked down his nose at Alric. "It seems your father is determined to force the contract whether we like it or not." "And you want me to change his mind, is that it?" "I demand you tell your father you'll not go through with this marriage." Gareth's blue eyes flashed with anger. "You owe me that much." 57

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"Were it as simple as that, the contract would already be broken." Alric kept his voice flat and emotionless. "I told my father I would refuse to say the vows, at which time he informed me he'd go to war, anyway." "I don't believe you." "I care not what you believe," Alric said. "I have spoken nothing but the truth to you from the beginning." "You lied by omission." Gareth's voice rose. "Had you told us at the start that you and Denmar were joined—" "We are not joined." Alric realized his own voice was rising. He forced himself to calm. "That marriage was annulled by the High Council, with King Elwin's blessing. Denmar is nothing to me now but a collection of bad memories." Memories Alric visited in nightmares almost every time he closed his eyes. He shook off the dark thoughts and turned to face Gareth fully. "I was led to believe you and King Tristam knew of my time with Denmar." Gareth raked his hands through his hair. "Do you seriously think I would defile myself by bedding the castoff of my mortal enemy?" The words stung Alric more than all Denmar's punishments combined, but he'd be damned before he let it show. "Rest easy, Lord Lachlan," he said. "I wouldn't dream of staining your snow pure flesh with my filthy fingers." That gave Gareth pause. "What are you saying?" There might be no way around the marriage, but Alric wasn't about to force himself on anyone. He eyed Gareth, keeping his body steady and his tone even. 58

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"My father can force a wedding, but not a consummation." Gareth's tanned skin colored a bright red. "You would agree to a sexless union?" "I can find my pleasure any number of places, Lord Lachlan." Alric took two steps forward, moving so close he could feel Gareth's breath on his cheek. "As repulsive as you find me, there are others who are not quite so discriminating." Alric brushed past him, then, leaving Gareth standing in the courtyard alone, his jaw hanging open as if unhinged. **** As weddings went, Gareth and Alric's union the next day was mercifully quick. The entire time the priest was performing the ritual, Gareth thought of nothing save the vows he'd exchanged with Kiel. He paid just enough attention to answer in all the right places. Otherwise, Gareth remained detached from the proceedings. Alric stood across from him, repeating his vows in short, clipped tones. Arden ended the service by presenting Alric and Gareth as joined and asking them to clasp hands before turning to face the few guests Declan had invited from the surrounding villages. Gareth grasped Alric's hand loosely, surprised at how cold his skin felt. The contact didn't last long. The moment Arden was done, Alric released Gareth's fingers. The well-wishers converged on them almost immediately, offering fond congratulations before heading off to the great hall and the wedding feast. It wasn't until the last of the guests cleared off that Declan approached. 59

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He embraced his son, but Gareth couldn't help noticing that Alric held himself back, barely returning Declan's touch. Declan tried to hide the hurt in his eyes, but Gareth could still see it. Declan broke away and cleared his throat. "We'd best make our way into the hall and start the celebration." "I'm afraid not," Alric said. "I'd like to be on the road to Hume as soon as possible." Gareth was surprised, but Declan didn't seem to be. "I'll make your apologies to the guests, then," Declan said, "and I'll have Wycaster prepare a unit of men to accompany you." Tristam came over to join them. "As I'll be leaving also, my men and I will accompany them as far as the Kray border." Declan looked as if he wanted to say something more, but in the end he simply nodded, then walked away. Alric turned to Gareth and Tristam. "Can you be ready to leave within the hour?" They nodded in unison. "Then I'll leave you to it," Alric said before quitting the courtyard. Once Alric was gone, Tristam and Gareth headed to the guest quarters. As they approached the corridor, Tristam said, "He's different than I thought he'd be this morning." "Who? Alric?" "Yes. He seems almost as upset by this fiasco as you are." "Last night he swore he'd tried to talk his father out of the 60

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match." Gareth stopped at his door. "Perhaps he was telling the truth." "Who knows?" Tristam wiped a hand over his eyes. "Damn, I'll be glad to leave this place." "As am I, if only for the brief trip to Hume." "About that..." Tristam hesitated. "I'm sending half the soldiers I brought here on to Hume with you." Gareth lifted one brow. "To what purpose?" "These people have already proven they can't be trusted. I'll feel better knowing my men are watching your back, at least until you can summon your own men from Lachlan." Gareth hated the thought of being nursemaided, but he had to admit he'd feel better not being completely at the mercy of Alric's kin. "So would I. Thank you, Tristam." "You're thanking me?" Tristam gave him a look of the utmost disbelief. "Lest you've forgotten, I'm the reason you're in this mess to begin with." "I haven't forgotten, believe me." Gareth smiled, surprising himself as much as Tristam. "I was thanking you more for your concern." He sobered. "When Kiel died, I thought sure I'd lost the last person who gave a damn about my welfare." Tristam gave him a rough clap on the back. "You'll always have someone who cares for you as long as I'm alive." Gareth swallowed hard and then went into his room to pack lest Tristam see how deeply the sentiment affected him. ****

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Alric refused the servants' offers of help and packed his own bags. He stuffed his clothing in his satchel first, taking only as much as he needed to get by. "You pack lightly." Alric turned to see his father standing in the doorway of the bedchamber. "What need have I of fourteen tunics when I can take two, wear one, and wash the other?" "You always did have a head full of sense." Alric said nothing, just finished tucking away his clothing before moving on to the few personal items he was taking with him. He opened a chest near his bed and pulled out a matched pair of carved wooden horses. Holding them up for his father to see, Alric said, "For Stefan." "So I guessed. You know, if you ever tire of being king, you could earn a decent wage as a wood carver." "'Twill be a long time ere I take the throne." Alric forced a smile. "You may well outlive me." "We both know that isn't going to happen." Declan stepped over to Alric and put his hand on his son's shoulder. "'Tis the reason I sought you out. I'll not let you leave here hating me." Alric closed his eyes. "I could never hate you, Father." He opened them, again, and focused on Declan's face. "I understand why you forced me into this marriage, but I happen to believe you've made a mistake." Declan's shoulders sagged, and with a look of defeat in his eyes, he turned to go. He was almost to the door when Alric stopped him. "Father?" 62

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"Yes, my son?" "'Tis a six day journey to Hume." Declan turned back to him. "I know this." "And you also know Glenna. Once she gets us under her roof, she'll be hard pressed to let us leave. I'm figuring on at least a fortnight's visit." Declan nodded. "That sounds about right." He paused. "Why do you tell me this?" "I don't imagine us to be back at Kray until a full month has passed." Alric's voice cracked. "I expect you to be waiting at the castle gates for me when I arrive home." Declan blinked hard. "I will be there." He laughed, the sound scratchy and tired. "I cannot die yet, not when I still have so much to teach you. By all that's holy, you don't even know how to play a decent game of chess. You've never once beaten me." Alric came forward, wrapping his father in a tight embrace. "Only because you cheat, old man." Declan laughed again, and Alric pretended not to feel the tears as they fell down his father's face and soaked the shoulder of his tunic. **** Gareth sat astride his horse in the lower bailey, watching as Wycaster gave the soldiers their last minute orders. Tristam urged his mount into position beside Gareth's. "Where is Alric?" Gareth pointed to a spot just in front of them. "In the lead with his men." He shifted the reins from hand to hand. "I 63

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think the two of us are working towards a goal of mutual avoidance." "Maris and I avoided each other for the first two months of our marriage." Gareth was taken aback. "Surely you jest? You and Maris are insane for one another." "Our marriage was arranged just like yours and Alric's," Tristam said. "Neither Maris nor I had the desire to wed a stranger." Gareth nudged his horse into action as the party started forward. "You once told me you consummated the marriage the same night you said your vows." "A true disaster, that." Tristam urged his mount into step beside Gareth's. "I was so ready to make love to her—so captivated by her beauty—I was a tad ... quick the first time I took her. I left her unsatisfied and swearing to see my head on a pike should I come near her again." "Sounds like something Maris would say." Gareth whistled. "Obviously something happened to change her mind." "Not something, but someone." Tristam smiled. "Kiel tired of watching Maris and me spar with one another and took matters into his own hands. The rascal locked us in one of the tower rooms at Drystan and refused to let us out until we'd made peace." Tristam's smile turned devilish. "Let me just say 'twas the beginning of a long and beautiful union, one that sustains me the way nothing else in my life ever could." "If you're suggesting someone should lock Alric and myself into a tower until the two of us work out our differences, I can assure you, 'twould be a waste of time." Gareth guided his 64

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horse through the gates. "We'd be more likely to kill each other as not." "I was suggesting nothing of the kind, simply telling you my own tale." Gareth had nothing to say to that, and the two of them lapsed into a companionable silence. The sun was at its zenith by the time their party reached the Kray border. After Tristam and Gareth said their farewells, Alric rode over to give Tristam a cool, formal goodbye before rejoining the soldiers. Tristam instructed forty of his men to join the sixty-man-guard Declan had provided, then headed off for Drystan with his remaining soldiers. Gareth watched him go, feeling well and truly alone as Tristam disappeared into the horizon. He stewed over the feelings of isolation until dusk when the men finally stopped to make camp. Gareth noticed that Alric kept himself away from the rest, choosing to sleep on the fringes rather than around the tight circle of the fire with the others. Gareth made a face. Perhaps he wasn't the only one seized by loneliness and doubt. On the second and third days, it rained, a fine mist that chilled Gareth in spite of the warm temperature. The sun returned the morning of the fourth day, brightening Gareth's mood a fraction. The company made good time, not stopping until the Kray leader guided the men into a shallow valley near a shady brook. Gareth wasn't hungry, but he dismounted just the same. He walked his horse down to the rippling stream, allowing the 65

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animal a much earned drink. He waited until the stallion was finished, then tethered him to a slender elm near the center of the valley. Gareth massaged the animal's thick neck. He'd just turned back toward the brook to have a drink himself, when he found Alric standing not far away, watching him. "You can tell a great deal about a man by the way he treats his horse." These were the first words Alric had spoken to him in almost three days. Gareth decided to take it as a peace offering. "All right, then. What can you tell about me from the way I tend my mount?" "You watered your animal before yourself," Alric said. "That tells me you have a generous nature." "Not especially," Gareth said, even though the compliment pleased him more than he cared to admit. "I raised this horse from a colt, and I know him. Were I to put my needs above his own, he'd just as soon throw me into a ditch as see me on to Hume." Alric laughed. "Does this temperamental creature have a name?" "Merrick." "An unusual name for a horse." "Named after the marketplace where Kiel and I found him." Gareth let the memory wash over him as he watched Merrick take a healthy bite of grass. "He was a little scrap of a thing, underfed and eaten up with fly bites. Kiel vowed Merrick wouldn't make it through the winter, but I saw something in him that no one else could." 66

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Alric adopted a speculative expression. "Kiel was your mate?" "Yes." Gareth's chest went tight. "We were married four years before Denmar murdered him." The color drained from Alric's face. "By all that's holy, why?" "Denmar wanted Kiel," Gareth ground out, "but Kiel chose me, instead." "An insult Denmar couldn't allow." Alric scrubbed his hand over his unshaven jaw. "Damned if this doesn't get worse and worse. Not only are you wed to a man you despise, you now have to live with the knowledge that your new husband was once wed to your first husband's killer." That summed it up, with one correction. "I don't despise you," Gareth said. "I—" He broke off when he realized that Alric had gone stiff beside him. "What's wrong?" "Something's amiss." Alric turned and started walking toward the brook where the men were gathered with their mounts. Over his shoulder, he said, "Untie your stallion and follow me." Gareth didn't move. "What is it?" "Just do as I say." Alric's voice was sharp and commanding. "I must speak with the men." Under normal circumstances, Gareth would have balked at taking such an order, but something in Alric's voice prompted him to do as he was told. He'd just untied Merrick and started back towards the brook when the sound of approaching horses caught his attention. 67

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The horsemen were moving at a fast clip. Gareth couldn't see them yet, but he could tell they were close. He drew his sword and had just reached Alric when a rain of arrows fell down from the sky. Gareth released Merrick's reins at the same time as the two men closest to him fell. Before Gareth could offer them assistance, Alric's hard body slammed into his, pitching them both into the water of the brook. They fell into the shallow stream. It was then that Gareth saw the arrow lodged in Alric's lower back. Gareth reached out to him. "You're wounded." "I'm fine." Alric gestured to a rocky point above the valley. "The arrows came from over that ridge. If my ears serve me right, the riders are coming in from the opposite direction." Gareth swore. "They have us on two sides." "Yes, but we have one advantage." Alric wet his lips. "Their archers are firing in unison. Raise your head enough to see when the second shot comes through. We should have time to call to the men and assess the damage while our enemy notches the third arrow." Gareth lifted his head over the grassy bank. At least ten men lay dead on the field, while the wounded struggled to get out of the line of fire. As Alric predicted, another hail of arrows soon followed the first. Gareth called for the soldiers to retreat to the tree line, but his voice was drowned by the thunder of hooves. The riders were on them, close enough that Gareth could plainly see the colors they wore—colors he didn't recognize. He might not know the colors, but there was 68

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one thing Gareth did know with absolute certainty: within a matter of moments, they'd be surrounded. "Looks as if they have us outnumbered two to one." Gareth grabbed his sword from the water where he'd dropped it. "We have no choice but to fight, arrows be damned." Alric lifted his head to survey the enemy. "I recognize their colors." He rested his forehead against the bank. "We don't stand a chance fighting them sword to sword." Not what Gareth wanted to hear. "What do you suggest we do? Stay here and die?" "Tell the men to fall back." Alric pushed himself from the water, giving Gareth a full view of his blood soaked tunic. "Make certain the lot of you stay in or near the water." "You can't think to go out there and face them alone." Gareth grabbed his arm to pull him back down. "You'll be killed." "Do as I say if you want to live." Alric shook free of Gareth's hold. "Stay here and instruct the men to obey my command." He narrowed his eyes. "If you come out with me, we'll both die." Before Gareth could stop him, Alric crested the bank and pulled himself into the open. Gareth had no choice but to let Alric go. He gave the soldiers Alric's instructions, then watched in horror as Alric made his way to the center of the valley. Once in the middle of the clearing, Alric turned sideways so that one hand pointed towards the ridge where the archers lay and the other pointed in the direction of the horsemen. 69

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Gareth had no doubt he was about to bury another husband. If the archers didn't fell Alric, the riders would be on him in moments. Gareth was readying himself to defy Alric's orders and go after him, anyway, when the wind shifted. Time seemed to slow and then stop altogether as Alric waved his hands in the swirling air, weaving circular patterns with his body. At first Gareth thought Alric was performing a protection ritual of sorts, but that notion fled as the potent scent of sulfur filled the valley. Before Gareth could reason what was happening, a rolling ball of orange flame burst from Alric's fingertips.

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Chapter Five Alric fought the pain and called forth the power. He felt little satisfaction as the flames flew from his fingers and engulfed his enemies. Men and horses fell into a writhing heap, rolling and running to escape the searing of flesh and bone. The screams of the dying were thick and loud, but Alric dared not break his concentration. He remained steady at his task until a lancing pain penetrated his leg. One of the enemy soldiers, his face a mask of burned skin, had managed to extinguish himself enough to stab Alric with his dagger. Alric lost his balance and fell onto his back. The arrow—still tightly lodged in his flesh—broke in half with sickening force. His agony was so great, Alric was unable to defend himself as the soldier climbed over him, raising the knife and aiming straight for Alric's heart. With no means of defense, Alric closed his eyes and waited for the death blow. It never came. He heard a cry of pain and looked up in time to see his would-be assassin fall to the side with Gareth's sword protruding from his back. Gareth pulled the blade free, then knelt beside Alric. "Can you stand?" Could he? Alric wasn't sure. His wounds radiated pain to his every extremity, but that wasn't the worst of it. The worst was knowing he'd just unleashed the monster inside him for all the world to see. "Alric, answer me." Gareth gave Alric's arm a slight nudge. "Can you stand?" 71

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"I think so." He tried to rise, but his legs refused to move. Strong hands were behind him, then, lifting him in a careful but steady motion. Gareth's breath was hot on his check as he wrapped his arms around Alric's waist and half walked, half carried him to the brook where the men were waiting. Through pain-blurred eyes, Alric could see the fear on the soldiers' faces as he approached. Some made signs in the air with their fingers. More still backed away as if fearing Alric more than they'd feared the enemy he just vanquished. Gareth led Alric to Merrick, who'd been wise enough to keep to the waterline during the fray. The horse stood still as Gareth tried in vain to lift Alric's near-dead weight into the saddle. "Where's my horse?" Alric's voice sounded weak to his own ears. "Your mount is nearby, for all the good he'll do you." Gareth grunted as he tried yet again to help Alric into the saddle. "You're too weak to climb up by yourself, much less command the beast." Gareth propped Alric against Merrick's flank, then looked to the soldiers. "Don't just stand there. Help me." The bulk of the men stood in motionless silence, only one having the courage to speak. "We cannot help you. Prince Alric, he's..." Gareth ground his teeth. "Say what you have to say and be done with it." "He's cursed," the solider said. "'Tis the only explanation for what we just witnessed." 72

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Gareth's fingers tightened against Alric's arms. "You rampalians all feel that way, I take it?" The squadron's silence was answer enough. "Very well," Gareth said. "You're dismissed." "Dis ... dismissed, Prince Gareth?" "Dismissed." Gareth caught Alric as he began a slow slide to the ground. "I'll have no quivering cowards in my service." The spokesman blinked. "Where would you have us go, my prince?" "I care not where you go," Gareth said, "but you're not to return to your posts. Any man unwilling to assist the heir of the same throne to which he's sworn allegiance is unfit to call himself a soldier." The men didn't so much as move. "You'd best take yourselves off, and quickly ere our enemy returns." Gareth used his body as a wedge to hold Alric upright against Merrick's side, then turned his head so that he was looking at the men. "I doubt Prince Alric will be inclined to save your worthless hides a second time." Gareth's warning got through. Alric couldn't see the soldiers past Gareth's bulk, but he could hear them scrambling to round up their horses. "What about the men injured by the archers?" Alric struggled to focus on Gareth's face. "We must help them." "They're dead, Alric." "I killed them, didn't I?" Alric felt as if he'd been punched in the stomach. "I killed my own men when I unleashed the fire." 73

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"No, you didn't." Gareth's voice was surprisingly gentle. "Those hit by the archers were dead before you intervened. How those arrows pierced the mail our men were wearing is a marvel, but most of the stricken soldiers were dead ere they hit the ground." "'Twas not the archers..." Alric tried to explain, but he was almost too weak to get the words out. "'Tis the arrows..." "Alric, you must stay awake." Gareth's voice took on a quality of desperation. "I'll tend your wounds as soon as I get you somewhere safe, but you must stay with me. Alric!" Alric tried to keep his eyes open. He wanted to explain— both about the enemy and the fire—but he was no match for the numbing darkness which claimed him. **** Gareth clutched Alric to his chest in an effort to keep him from tumbling to the ground. They were running out of time. Alric's breath was coming in shallow pants, and his body was shaking. Gareth laid him carefully on the ground, then tore two lengths of cloth from the hem of his own tunic. Wrapping the first strip around Alric's waist, Gareth bound the back wound as best he could with the arrow still lodged inside. Next he wrapped the slash on Alric's leg. He was relieved to see it was not as serious as the other, but he had to get Alric to shelter so he could clean and bind the injuries properly. First, Gareth had to get him onto the blasted horse. He pulled Alric to his feet—no easy task considering Alric weighed nearly as much as Gareth—and then dragged him back to 74

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Merrick. He was about to have another go at hoisting Alric onto the stallion's back when a twig snapped. Without having to turn, Gareth knew someone was standing behind him. "If you're going to run me through," Gareth said with hardfought calm, "I'd just as soon you have done with it." "I've no wish to hurt you, Prince Gareth. I seek only to help." "Then come 'round here where I can see you." The man stepped into Gareth's line of sight. Then again, perhaps "man" was a bit of an overstatement. The freshfaced soldier standing behind him looked more like an untried boy than one of the king's fighters. His eyes were wide—fear, no doubt—but he had the mettle to stand his ground. Gareth didn't recognize him, but the lad wore the Kray colors. "What's your name, boy?" The soldier fell to one knee on the grass. "Balthazar, my prince." "On your feet," Gareth said. "Why didn't you leave with your comrades?" "I swore an oath to serve the house of Kray." Balthazar stood. "'Tis not something I take lightly." Loyalty. Who'd have guessed? "How old are you, boy?" Balthazar stepped closer. "Eight and ten." He cleared his throat. "Old enough to help you lift Prince Alric onto that horse." "Let's get to it, then." Gareth still wasn't certain he trusted the boy, but he'd wasted all the time he dared. "I'll swing into the saddle and lift him up as you steady and push him from below." 75

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Balthazar nodded, then held Alric steady as Gareth swung himself into place. Once seated, Gareth reached down and pulled Alric up, doing his damnedest not to jar Alric's wounds and make them worse. Balthazar was as good as his word at helping Gareth haul Alric in front of him on Merrick's back. Alric never even stirred. Once Alric was positioned, Gareth looked down at Balthazar. "Where's your mount?" Balthazar blushed. "Ran away during the attack, my lord." With his head, Gareth motioned to the black stallion tethered on the other side of the brook. "You can ride Alric's horse, but be quick about it." Balthazar untied Alric's mount and was seated within minutes. Urging the animal forward, he came into place beside Gareth. It wasn't until Balthazar looked at him as if for direction that Gareth realized he hadn't a notion where they were going. Balthazar seemed to understand. "If memory serves me, there's a village just to the east of us. 'Tis not much, but they have an inn." "'Twill have to do," Gareth said. "Lead the way." Balthazar guided Alric's stallion to the fore, taking them over the brook and through a wide stand of trees. From there, the landscape blurred into a series of open fields and wooded paths. Time lost all meaning, with Gareth's thoughts centered on nothing save keeping Alric alive. 76

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They were on the village road sooner than Gareth would have thought. He stopped Balthazar just as the boy was about to move out of the sheltering tree line. "Put this over your mail lest someone recognize the Kray colors." With one hand, Gareth pulled forth a clean tunic from his saddlebags and passed it to Balthazar. "The fewer people who know who we are, the better." Balthazar donned the tunic and then led the way down the potted road to the village. Rotham, a weathered sign proclaimed the place. A first glance told Gareth the village was little more than an inn, a tavern, and a cluster of crofter's cottages. He reined Merrick to a stop in front of the inn. "Secure us two rooms," Gareth said. He removed a pouch of coins from his belt and tossed them to Balthazar. "Ask the innkeeper if the village has a healer." Balthazar swung from the saddle, then tethered the stallion to a rail in front of the inn. Gareth waited a tense moment while the boy was gone, wondering if they'd come this far only to be denied shelter. Balthazar came back soon enough. He was accompanied by a stout man wearing a rough but clean work apron over his shirt and hose. The innkeeper, Gareth guessed. The man walked over to where Gareth sat on Merrick's back, holding Alric. "Yer rooms are ready, me lord." The innkeeper glanced at Alric. "Yer man tells me yer companion is injured. Shall I have someone carry him up for ye?" Gareth shook his head, unwilling to trust Alric's welfare to yet another stranger. "We'll see to him ourselves." 77

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The innkeeper nodded. "I'll have me stable hand tend to yer horses and send yer saddlebags up to yer rooms, then." Gareth waited until the innkeeper went back inside before signaling to Balthazar. Working together, the two of them were able to get Alric off the horse and stretched between them. The walk through the inn's common room and up the stairs was torturous. Each time Alric's injuries took a jolt, Gareth watched helplessly as fresh blood seeped through the makeshift bindings. He let out an audible sigh of relief when they made it to the room. Though the sun was still high, the room was dark, having but one window that faced east. Balthazar motioned to the bed with his shoulder. "I think we should place Prince Alric on his stomach and tend to the back wound, first. It seems to be the worst." Gareth nodded, and the two of them went to work settling Alric. Once done, Gareth said, "What about a healer? Did the innkeeper say the village has one?" Balthazar cleared his throat. "I didn't ask, my prince." "Have you gone mad? Can you not see how sorely Alric is injured?" Balthazar paled in the face of Gareth's anger, but he held his ground. "Prince Gareth ... you have a healer standing before you." Gareth narrowed his eyes. "You?" "Yes." "You're a soldier, not a physician." 78

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"My father was a great healer, his talents matched by no other. He passed his knowledge on to me ere he died." Balthazar lowered his eyes. "I became a soldier because I had no other option, but I swear to you, I am more than capable of healing Prince Alric." Something in the boy's voice told Gareth he meant what he said. Well, why not? Having a soldier who was really a skilled healer in disguise made as much sense as having a husband capable of conjuring fire from thin air. "All right," Gareth said. "I'm trusting you with Alric's welfare." He looked Balthazar directly in the eyes so there'd be no mistaking his meaning. "For your sake, I pray my trust is not misplaced." Balthazar swallowed, but he kept his back straight and his head up as he walked to the still-open door. "I have need of some supplies," he called over the balcony to the innkeeper. The innkeeper looked up at him. "I'll provide whatever ye need if'n I have it." "I'll take as many candles and holders as you can spare, a kettle of freshly boiled water, a cake of soap, and some clean rags." "I'll have it to ye in a blink." The innkeeper went to work gathering the requested items, and Balthazar stepped back into the room, closing the door behind him. "I cannot begin until I have what I need," he said. "Let us hope the innkeeper is as quick as he claims." Moments later, the innkeeper came in carrying a basketful of candles, rags, and soap in one hand and a small caldron of 79

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water in the other. He set the caldron on the floor and handed the basket to Balthazar. "This be everything." Balthazar nodded his thanks. He waited until the innkeeper was gone, then removed a dagger from his belt and made quick work of cutting the binding over Alric's back wound. Gareth blanched when he saw the blood caking the injury, but Balthazar wasn't overly concerned. "Even the paltriest of wounds are heavy to bleed," he said. "The important thing is to cleanse the cut well." He then instructed Gareth to light all the candles and place them as close to the bed as safety permitted. While Gareth was at his task, Balthazar cut the tunic from Alric's body, stripping him to the waist. It took him a moment to work the garment away from the dried edges of the wound. Once finished, Balthazar let out a low whistle. "What?" Concern washed over Gareth at the expression on Balthazar's face. "Is it worse than you expected?" His heart hammered at the thought. "No, my prince. 'Tis not this wound that surprises me." Balthazar lifted the candle closest to the bed and held it over Alric's back. "See for yourself." Gareth came closer, only to be struck speechless. Alric's back was a mass of scars. Some were jagged and puffed like lashes from a whip. Others bore the clean, thin mark of a knife. Not a finger's width of skin on Alric's back remained untouched by one form of torture or the other. Gareth could only wonder at the pain such injuries must have caused. He glanced at Balthazar. "You're not to breathe a word of this to anyone." 80

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Balthazar nodded. "Prince Alric has a right to his privacy." He placed the candle on the low chest by the bed. "'Tis time to remove the arrow." Gareth sat on the edge of the bed by Alric's side. "How can I help?" "You can hold him down while I dig the arrow out." Balthazar's expression was grim. "'Tis lodged in the fleshy part of his back. I believe it missed anything vital, but 'twill cause a damnable pain coming out." He washed the dagger and held it over a flame to purify the blade, then signaled to Gareth. Gareth took hold of Alric's shoulders. The moment the knife touched his torn flesh, Alric began to thrash, trying in vain to rid himself of the agony. Gareth could do nothing more than hold him while Balthazar worked. A few minutes into the surgery, Balthazar's blood-covered hands brought forth an arrowhead of interwoven, razor-edged triangles still attached to the broken shaft of the arrow. "No wonder these things were able to pierce the armor of our men. I've never seen a weapon crafted so." Neither had Gareth. "Did you recognize our enemy's colors?" "No, but I came to Kray only a year ago. I know little of the surrounding kingdoms." Gareth was surprised by that bit of information. Most soldiers served the kingdoms to which they'd been born. Balthazar, son of a healer, was indeed turning into a puzzle, but one Gareth would have to unravel, later. Right now, he had more important duties to tend. 81

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"Was the wound as you thought?" "Yes," Balthazar said. "The arrow pierced only flesh and sinew. Now I've but to clean the area and close the wound." He removed the small fragments of the arrow's shaft. Once done, Balthazar bathed the hole with soap and water. Gareth had seen healers work before—mostly on the battlefield—but he'd never seen one as obsessed with cleanliness as Balthazar. Not until the man was certain every speck of dirt was gone did he stop. Looking up at Gareth, he said, "I'm ready to close the gash now, my prince. If you'll but step outside, I'll have done with it in no time." Gareth peered down at Alric. He'd stopped thrashing, but his breathing was still hard fought. For reasons Gareth couldn't fathom, the thought of leaving him was obscene. "I'll stay," he said. "Should I ask the innkeeper to fetch you a needle and thread?" Balthazar looked as if he wanted to argue, but something on Gareth's face must have convinced him arguing would do no good. He sighed. "That won't be necessary, but I would ask of you a boon before I start." Gareth nodded. "Name your price." "Once the prince is healed," Balthazar said, "should you decide to bring charges of witchcraft against me ... I ask you to make certain my death is as painless as possible." The simple plea stunned Gareth to the marrow. He was about to question the lad when Balthazar closed his eyes and began to chant. The words were in a language Gareth didn't understand, but they had a melodic quality that held him fascinated. Held 82

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him fascinated, that is, until the air around them began to shimmer with beads of light. Gareth jumped, startling Balthazar and causing the lights to fade. Balthazar opened one eye. "I can't concentrate when you do that." Gareth didn't know whether to be amused by the annoyance in the boy's tone or scared out of his wits by the spectacle he'd just witnessed. His gut reaction was to yank Balthazar and his odd brand of magic away from Alric, but Gareth fought the instinct. Balthazar had already gone out of his way to help them. There was no reason to think he was doing otherwise, now. Gareth kept silent and Balthazar went back to work, closing his eyes and beginning the chant anew. This time, Gareth held himself still as the lights reappeared. Tiny pearls of illumination swirled around the room, bringing with them the fresh scent of renewal and cleansing. Gareth watched in wonder as the spheres came together over Alric's prone body, converging to form one blinding shaft that lit the entire space. Without warning, the beam thrust itself down, filling the hole on Alric's back. As Gareth watched, Alric's breathing grew stronger, and his skin took on a pink, healthy glow. The wound closed a moment later, leaving not so much as a scar. Balthazar slumped onto the floor. "That takes care of the back wound," he said. "If you'll help me turn the prince over, I'll heal his leg. After that, you can decide what's to be done with me." 83

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As Gareth helped Balthazar roll Alric onto his back, he began to form a picture of what must have happened to Balthazar before he came to Kray. Only a man used to much persecution would expect to be executed for saving someone's life. Gareth waited until they'd gotten Alric into position, then laid his hand on Balthazar's shoulder. "The only thing I plan to do with you is see that you're well fed and well rested. When Alric awakens, he and I will make certain you receive a suitable reward for all you've done for us." "I'll take no reward." Balthazar picked the dagger back up and moved again to the pot of water to cleanse it. "I was glad to do what I could to help the prince." He came back to Alric's side and went to work cutting free his hose. "Why did you become a soldier?" Gareth couldn't imagine Balthazar wasted such talents. "You could have found work as a physician to kings the realm over." "My father was the chief healer of Lundfree, a lesser kingdom some two months journey from Kray." Balthazar scrubbed the dirt from Alric's cut with a soapy rag. "He was a great man, my father. Never turned anyone away, healing rich nobles and impoverished peasants alike. The King of Lundfree availed himself of my father's skills when e're he had the need." "Your father commanded the same magic you used on Alric, I take it." "Yes, but that was only a small part of his abilities. The spells that cast out sickness have been passed down from father to son in our line for as long as I can remember. My 84

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father also had extensive knowledge of herbs and how to use them to treat a variety of illnesses." He lowered his eyes. "He could heal almost anyone, my father, but some ailments were beyond even his skill to cure." Balthazar's face darkened as Gareth caught his meaning. "Your father was punished for his failure to heal someone." "The King of Lundfree's wife." Balthazar's voice was thick with pain. "She fell from her mount and was trampled by the frightened animal. By the time her escorts got her to my father's cottage, she was already dead." Gareth's heart went out to the boy. "And raising the dead was something not even your father could do." "No, not that the king believed him. When my father told him the queen was beyond help, the king went into a rage. The next we knew, twenty armed soldiers were at our door to arrest him. My father was accused of everything from treason to witchcraft." Balthazar's voice wavered, but he kept working. "The soldiers took my father to the castle to be tried." He laughed, a sound without humor. "Tried. What a jest that was. The king named my father a traitor and ordered him executed." A lone tear rolled down Balthazar's cheek. "Before my father died, he made me swear to hide my knowledge of healing, a promise I have kept until today." "A promise I'm glad you broke," Gareth said with sincerity. "I left Lundfree the day my father died." Balthazar brushed the tear away with the back of his hand. "I traveled as far as I could on what coin I had, but—" "Let me guess: your money ran out about the time you reached Kray." 85

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Balthazar nodded. "With little other choice, I enlisted in King Declan's army and have been there ever since." Gareth smiled, hoping to reassure the lad. "I'm sorry for your loss and for the ordeal you endured, but 'tis our good fortune to have you." He paused. "You must know that only a handful of kingdoms take a dim view of magic and witchcraft. In fact, many kings have wizards and sorcerers who advise them." "I know. In truth, I think the king only used my father's powers as an excuse. He was grieving the loss of his wife and sought to punish someone for his pain. 'Twas my father's misfortune to be the king's chosen target." "You have my deepest sympathies for your loss, Balthazar." Another thought occurred to Gareth even as he gave Balthazar his condolences. "Is that the reason you were unafraid of Alric's powers? Because of your own gift?" "Oh, I was afraid. Don't you doubt it. My abilities pale in the face of the prince's." Balthazar glanced down at Alric's sleeping form. "There is a certain goodness inside him, a royal willing to sacrifice himself to save his men. I owe Prince Alric my life. I felt I could do none other than return the favor by trying to save him, my fear be damned." He straightened. "If you're ready, my lord, I'll repeat the ritual on the prince's leg." The second ritual went exactly the same as the first. When Balthazar was done, Alric was resting in obvious comfort but he still hadn't opened his eyes. Gareth sat beside Alric on the bed, searching his face for some sign of wakefulness. "Why is it he still sleeps?" 86

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Balthazar stood and stretched. "'Twill take some time for his body to replenish the blood he lost, but I've no doubt Prince Alric will wake soon." He strode to the door, taking the caldron of dirty water with him. "I'll fetch some fresh water and cloths to bathe him with." Balthazar left to fetch the supplies. When he returned, Gareth took the caldron from the healer's hands. "You're half gone with exhaustion. Go downstairs and seek yourself a meal. I'll take care of Alric." Balthazar was too tired to argue. "Shall I ask the innkeeper to send a trencher of food for you?" "I'll eat later," Gareth said. "After your meal, get some sleep. I'll wake you if there's a need." Balthazar gave a quick nod and left, closing the door behind him. Gareth grabbed a dry cloth, wet and soaped it, then come back to the bed and began bathing Alric's upper body and arms. He wasn't certain why he felt it his responsibility to see to the task, but he did. Gareth cleansed the sweat and dirt from the soft hair covering Alric's chest, surprised to find the skin of his new husband's front relatively unmarked in comparison to his back. Gareth rinsed Alric's top half and then peeled back the blankets to reveal his lower body. He did his best to ignore the little thrills that raced through him as he washed Alric's groin and legs. Gareth was relieved when the time came to once again turn Alric onto his stomach, putting his husband's most private attributes out of sight. His relief was short lived when he saw anew the scars covering Alric's back. With tender fingers Gareth cleansed 87

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each scar. He was horrified to see that the wounds trailed across Alric's buttocks and onto his legs. Denmar had to be behind this. Gareth could think of no other man cruel enough to inflict such damage. Again, he vowed to make the varlet pay. Once Alric was cleansed to his satisfaction, Gareth fetched a fresh blanket from a chest in the corner of the room and draped it over Alric's sleeping form. He then sat down on the bed. Gareth meant only to keep on eye on Alric as he slept. A mere moment later, he fell asleep at Alric's side. He woke sometime later to a feeling of being watched. Gareth opened his eyes to find Alric lying on his side, staring at him. Gareth must have gone from sitting to lying as he slept, for he found himself flat on his back, his thighs pressed against his husband's. Gareth sat up at once. "How do you feel?" "Like I've been shot in the back with an arrow." Alric struggled to sit, but Gareth wouldn't let him. "Lie there and rest. You've lost a great deal of blood, and Balthazar assures me 'twill take your body time to remake it." "Balthazar?" Gareth gave Alric a brief overview of what had happened, including the methods Balthazar had used to heal him. Alric closed his eyes. "I owe him." He opened his eyes again a second later and fastened them on Gareth. "It seems I owe you, as well. Why did you save me? You could have had your freedom if only you'd allowed that soldier to finish what he'd started." 88

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Gareth shrugged, trying to act as if he hadn't been asking himself the same questions over and over. Truth was, the thought of leaving Alric to die had been inconceivable, but he wasn't sure why. For that reason, Gareth gave the only answer he could think of. "You saved my life when you pushed me into that ditch, and again when you bested our enemies. I figured two good turns deserved at least one other. Now," he said, crossing his arms over his chest, "'tis time for me to ask the questions." "If you're going to ask why I didn't tell you about my powers before we were married, I think you can guess the answer." Alric's voice was hoarse and held more than a hint of resignation. "And before you say 'twas another lie of omission, why not just add that to my list of sins and be done with it?" Gareth wasn't following. "What sins?" Alric rolled his eyes. "Being Denmar's castoff. Forcing you into a marriage you didn't want. My identity as a cursed wretch whose very existence defies nature. Those sins." "Hush." Gareth held up his hand for Alric to stop. "I was only going to ask if you knew the men who attacked us. Just before you went out to face them, you said you recognized their colors." "I recognized them, all right." Alric rolled to his back and draped his arm over his eyes to block out the candlelight. "They were from the House of Winthrop, my stepmother's family." Not what Gareth was expecting. "Your stepmother's house? How is it they came to think of you as the enemy?" 89

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"Come now, Gareth. Surely you must have heard rumors about me before we married." Gareth thought back to Holden's warning. Hadn't he claimed that Alric killed his stepmother? "They're after you because they believe you're responsible for your stepmother's death. They think you killed her." "Yes." Gareth found it impossible to believe anyone would think Alric capable of murder. Self-defense was one thing, but a man willing to sacrifice himself to save his soldiers was no cold killer. "Why do they think you killed her?" Alric took his arm away from his eyes, the truth in them impossible to ignore. "Because I did."

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Chapter Six Gareth never took his eyes off Alric's face. "You'll have to explain that, you know." "What's to explain?" Alric shrugged as best he could without getting up. "I killed my stepmother. There ends the story." "There's more to the tale than that. You wouldn't kill a woman for no reason." "There was a reason, all right." Alric's eyes flashed with something akin to fury, but he quickly masked the emotion. "My motives don't matter. Adela is dead regardless." Gareth stretched his legs out beside Alric, his back pressed against the wall. "Adela. 'Tis a pretty name." "For a pretty woman. Her beauty was but part of the reason Denmar fell in with her." Gareth raised a brow. "I assumed Denmar's inclinations lay towards men." Alric hitched one shoulder. "Denmar will bed anyone capable of aiding his cause, be they male or female." Gareth wasn't surprised. "And what of Adela? Does she have anything to do with those marks on your back?" Alric's face colored. "No wonder you're being so kind. You saw my scars, and now you're feeling sorry for me." He curled his lips in an exhausted version of a sneer. "Save your pity, Lachlan. I've no use for it." "My name is Gareth, and that is what I expect you to call me. As for pitying you, I feel no more pity for you than I would any other man who'd been likewise injured." Gareth set 91

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his jaw. "Now answer my question. Did Adela give you the marks?" "No. Denmar alone is responsible for those." Gareth folded his hands in his lap. "You may as well tell me the whole of it. I'll not stop asking until you do." Alric snorted. "So much for allowing a man to recover from his wounds in peace." "Stop acting a babe and get on with it." Alric gave in to the inevitable with a defeated sigh. "My mother died of the fever when I was eight and ten. Her death was the start of it all." Gareth felt for him, having lost both his parents at a tender age, himself. "I'm sorry. I know how it feels to lose a beloved parent." Alric looked off for a moment. "My mother was sweetness itself. All those who knew her loved her, and the entire kingdom mourned her passing." He turned his face back to Gareth. "My father was insane with grief, but his advisors refused to allow him time to heal. They pushed him straight into marriage with a neighboring king's daughter." "Adela, I take it." "Yes. She was two years my senior, the only child of King Thaddeus of Winthrop. Thaddeus was desperate to make a good match for Adela and saw Kray as his best hope. He thought at first to pair her with me." "Your father refused because he knew of your interest in men." "Yes." Alric managed a smile. "My father has always accepted that about me. Unfortunately, Thaddeus was 92

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determined to match his daughter to the House of Kray one way or another. 'Twas some two months after my mother died that Kray's councilors started pushing Father to marry Adela, himself." Gareth sucked in air through his teeth. He knew all too well the heartache of being pushed into a new marriage while grieving a lost love. "I imagine your father resisted." Alric nodded. "So did the bride-to-be. Thaddeus was in full support of the match, but Adela was furious. There she was, a girl in full bloom of her youth, being prodded to wed a man older than her own father." "I imagine she was beside herself by the time your father gave in to the match." "That she was." Alric folded his hands on top of his bare stomach. "Adela gave a fit worthy of the fiercest under realm demon, but 'twas no use. Her father stood beside her during the marriage ceremony and was forced to threaten violence before she'd say her vows, but say them, she did." Gareth could almost sympathize with Adela, but something in Alric's tone told him to hold his sympathy until the tale was all told. "And after the vows were said?" "Father brought her home. Adela's first days at Kray were miserable. She brooded and cried, even going so far as to lock herself in one of the guard towers for a full two days." Alric shook his head. "She stopped eating—so she said— driving my father sick with worry." Gareth would've been hard pressed to miss Alric's skepticism. "You think 'twas all an act?" 93

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"Now I do, but at the time, I was worried for both Adela and my father. He'd already lost my mother, and though I knew he didn't love Adela, I feared the shock of losing another wife would push him over the edge. Just when we thought sure Adela was going to do herself real harm, one of my father's advisors suggested something that seemed to shift her mood." "What?" "A trip," Alric said. "He reasoned that Adela needed time away from her responsibilities as mistress of Kray, time to adjust to being married without the burdens of being queen." Alric took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Gareth could see how weary he was, but made no move to hush him. He needed to hear the story, and he had a feeling Alric needed to tell it. A moment later, Alric reopened his eyes and said, "The plan seemed a sound one, and my father was desperate enough to try anything. In fact, Father chose their destination. 'Twas his idea to take Adela to Banning." "The capital city? For what purpose?" "He thought Adela would want to have her marriage formally blessed by the High King. 'Tis a great honor to have King Elwin offer his blessing, and since Elwin's father and my father were friends of a sort, Father was certain Elwin would do it." Alric shifted slightly to find a more comfortable position. "Adela was delighted by the prospect. I thought she was excited about visiting the High Court and seeing all the sights Banning has to offer. Now I wonder if Adela hadn't 94

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already formed her plan and was looking for someone to take up her cause." "Her cause?" "Adela was no fool, Gareth. She wanted out of her marriage no matter the cost. In her mind, there was only one way to achieve such a goal." All traces of sympathy Gareth had felt for the woman vanished in the space of a heartbeat. "She was looking for someone to kill your father." Alric nodded. "She had no trouble finding a man ambitious enough to take up the challenge." "Denmar." "Yes. They met just after we arrived at Banning." "They took you with them on their first trip as a married couple?" Gareth hadn't expected that. "I had no desire to go—believe me—but my father insisted. He thought having me there would serve as a buffer for Adela so she wouldn't be pressured to spend all her time alone with him." Alric made a face. "I tried to refuse, but you've seen for yourself how persistent my father can be when he's bent on having his way." "You could say I have," Gareth said, with a trace of dry humor. Alric gave him a thin smile. "Needless to say, I ended up going with them. The journey was long, but pleasant enough. Once at Banning, Adela took to court life like the well-trained princess she was. She insisted on gracing every celebration and function with her presence." His smile vanished. "We 95

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thought she was simply caught up in the thrill of it all, when in fact she was shopping for a henchman." "A role Denmar was only too happy to fill." "No doubt. As I said, they met soon after we came to court. When they first became lovers, I don't know. I found out most of the story after all was said and done." "I take it Adela and Denmar had a scheme." "Oh, yes." Alric brushed his hair from his eyes, his fingers shaking slightly. "The two of them wasted no time hatching their plot. Adela and Denmar were an even match, without a soul between them." He shuddered. Gareth instinctively reached over and pulled the blankets tighter around him. Alric muttered a surprised "thank you" before going on with the tale. "The plan was simple. Denmar was to kill my father whilst making it look like an accident. Adela would then be free— after a decent period of mourning—to marry Denmar." Gareth stretched his arms behind his head. "Surely Denmar didn't think to inherit the throne of Kray?" "Even he knew better than that. There are too many heirs standing in line for Kray's throne. Killing one man could be passed off as an accident, but eliminating an entire family was another matter entirely." Alric's eyes flashed. "Denmar hoped by killing my father and marrying Adela, he'd one day sit the throne of Winthrop." Denmar was cunning. Even Gareth had to admit that. But something wasn't making sense. "How did you end up wed to Denmar, then? Surely that wasn't part of the plan." 96

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"Part of Adela's plan, no, but it became part of Denmar's grand scheme the minute he learned of my powers." "How did he come by the knowledge?" "My own stupidity." Alric gave a sad shake of his head. "I've always been careful to hide my curse from everyone save my family. When Adela came to live with us, I tried to guard my secret from her, but I got careless. She was standing on the balcony late one evening and saw me kindle a fire in the hall hearth with my bare hands." "Tell me about this thing you call a curse," Gareth said. Alric widened his eyes. "What would you call it, if not a curse?" Gareth searched for the right words. "A gift, perhaps?" "A gift, you say?" The disdain on Alric's face was telling. "I was a boy of four years when I first conjured fire. I was waiting in line to use the privy and Stanhurst, one of my father's guards, was taking longer in there than I thought necessary. Before I realized what I was doing, I focused my thoughts on the privy shed, and the building burst into flames." Alric's words painted a vivid picture in Gareth's mind. "Was anyone hurt?" "Thankfully, only the guard's pride was injured. Stanhurst came running out, squawking like a wounded goose with his hose around his ankles." Gareth couldn't help the full-fledged grin that spread across his face. Alric slanted him a withering gaze. "How can you laugh? 'Twas awful." 97

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"Sorry." He spoiled the apology by giving way to another smile. "You have to admit 'tis a funny tale." Alric denied it, but Gareth was certain he saw a slight smile pull at the corner of Alric's mouth. Deciding to go back to the subject at hand, Gareth asked, "Did your father handle the matter?" Alric nodded. "Father blamed the blaze on an errant spark from one of the soldier's cooking fires, but he knew exactly where the fire had come from. His own father had the same power as I." "Your father doesn't have it?" "No, nor does my sister. It seems I am the only one in my family since my grandfather's passing who holds sway over the flame. No one knows where the power comes from, or why it strikes only select members of the same family, but thanks to my grandsire, we do know how to temper the flame and wield it. Grandfather spent long hours taking notes and training my father should one of his offspring follow in his footsteps." As angry as he'd been with Declan for forcing him to marry Alric, Gareth couldn't help but admire the man's love for his children. "Your father trained you?" "Yes, but he kept my powers a secret from most everyone, though he did alert the High King and the Council of my abilities. 'Twas Father's way of making certain I was never persecuted for my 'gift,' as you call it. The villagers have gossiped for years about me being cursed and even mad— mostly because I kept myself in such seclusion—but no one outside a small, inner circle knew for certain the true nature 98

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of my powers." Alric's voice cracked with weariness, but he kept going. "Until Adela found out, that is." "And then Adela told Denmar." "Yes, though to this day, I'm not sure why she told him. Perhaps she let it slip in a moment of pillow talk. Or maybe she wanted Denmar to feel sorry for her. 'Poor little Adela, married into a family of monsters.'" Alric shook his head. "Whatever her reasons, Adela made a critical error in revealing my secret to the man. Denmar was far too shrewd not to see the implications of what I could do." "He wanted you for a weapon." As much as Gareth hated the man, he could see Denmar's logic. With Alric under his control, Denmar would become a force to be reckoned with. "So Denmar broke faith with Adela and came up with his own scheme. She must have been furious." "She was, though it took her a while to reason out what had happened. I doubt Denmar ever told her 'twas over between them. He simply left court, I imagine. Whatever the case, Denmar was gone by the time our party left Banning, and my father was still alive. Adela must have known she'd been duped. If she hadn't pieced it together by then, she surely knew it four months later when Denmar arrived at Kray's gates, seeking an audience with my father." Gareth ground his teeth. "The whoreson played the love sick swain, no doubt." "That he did. Denmar told my father he'd fallen in love with me the first time our eyes met. My father was skeptical, and since I'd seen Denmar at court a handful of times and the man had never approached me, I was less than believing, 99

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myself. That was before Denmar plied me with his charm." Alric ran his hands through his hair, his movements short and agitated. "I cringe when I think of how naive I was, but when Denmar began courting me, I warmed quickly to the attention." He lowered his voice. "I'd spent years isolating myself from the rest of the world for fear someone would learn of my powers. Now, here was a man showering me with affection and praise. I hardly dared believe my good fortune." Alric swallowed. "By the time Denmar proposed, I was absolutely besotted." Alric's voice was thick was self-directed anger. Gareth understood all too well the seductive power of self-blame, but he hated to see Alric punishing himself for being taken in. "This is Denmar's fault, Alric. Not yours." "He couldn't have manipulated me had I not allowed it," Alric said. "The worst of it is what happened when I told Denmar about my powers." He curled his fingers into the blankets. "I'll say this for Denmar: he's a consummate actor. He feigned surprise, even going so far as to walk away, claiming he needed time to think. I was crushed, believing he would turn his back on me." Gareth watched the shadows play across Alric's features. "Is that why you hid them from me, because you thought I'd walk away?" "Most any man would." Alric laughed at himself, the sound bitter and harsh. "Imagine my surprise when Denmar returned two days later, telling me that none of it mattered, that he still wanted me." He looked up at the ceiling as if searching for absolution from his mistakes. "I fell right into 100

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his hands, begging my father to allow us to marry." He sighed. "I'll spare you the details, but the short of it is, Denmar and I were married a scant month after he arrived at Kray." "By marrying you, he thought he'd found a way to claim Kray's throne." "'Twas more than that." Alric paused as if thinking. "He wanted the throne badly enough, I suppose, but Denmar's real challenge was finding a way to exploit my abilities for his own maximum gain." "In other words, Gareth said, "there's no such thing as enough power where Denmar is concerned." "He would have used me to challenge and conquer as many kingdoms as possible," Alric said. "Damned if he wouldn't lay siege to Banning itself if he thought he could get away with it." Gareth didn't doubt it. "When did you find out the truth about him?" "The revelation was mostly Adela's doing. She was enraged to the point of insanity when she learned of Denmar's plot. My marriage marked the end of her chance to escape my father. Father attributed her odd behavior to unhappiness over their age difference. He tried his best to placate her any way he could, but nothing helped. Though she kept the reason for her tantrums hidden, once again, Adela fell right into Denmar's hands." "How so?" "Denmar was anxious to take me away from Kray, but Father was reluctant to let us leave. He believed we needed 101

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to stay home and prepare for the day when Denmar and I would be joint rulers of Kray. Denmar used Adela's crazed spells as an excuse, claiming 'twas impossible to begin a marriage in the midst of such goings on. Father held fast for many weeks, but finally gave in when Adela grew near uncontrollable. She'd stopped bathing and had taken to sleeping on the floor of the hall with the wolfhounds." Gareth whistled. "Was she truly crazy, then?" "Not in the slightest." Alric's tone left no room for doubt. "When Adela realized Denmar wasn't going to swoop in and save her from my father, she decided to save herself." "She was going to kill Declan." The true brilliance of Adela's plan hit Gareth, then. "By pretending to be crazed, Adela was giving herself an excuse should she be charged with Declan's murder." "That's the way of it. As soon as Denmar and I left Kray, Adela put her plan into motion. She snuck from the castle late one night and visited a hag who lives in a hovel not far from the keep. The old woman brews potions and poultices, mostly for healing purposes. For Adela, the hag brewed a sleeping draft of belladonna." "Nightshade?" "The same. Harmless enough when used in small doses, fatal when one takes too much. Adela poured enough into my father's wine to make certain he never woke." "How did you come to know all this? Obviously Adela's plan failed, so how did you and your father learn of it?"

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"Adela made a mistake." Alric shifted again, as if trying to steady himself. "The potion she gave my father was steeped from the berries of the nightshade, not the roots." "I don't understand." "Nightshade is one of those rare plants where each part— from root to stem—is pure poison. Even so, some parts of the plant are stronger than others. The roots are the most deadly, the berries the least so. The concoction the hag made was strong enough to put Father to sleep, yet too weak to kill him. Gareth was starting to understand. "Adela didn't know that." "No. When my father began to lose consciousness, Adela believed him to be dying. She was so proud of herself, she couldn't resist bragging. Before Father fell asleep, Adela confessed everything, from her affair with Denmar and the first plan that went awry, to Denmar's real reasons for wanting me. Once Father collapsed, she summoned the healers, swearing the king was the victim of some sudden, unknown ailment. Adela then went back to her own chamber, preparing herself to play the grieving widow. Too bad for her, my father woke seven hours later with a damnable headache and a full memory of her foul deeds." "I'm not generally in favor of hitting women, but I pray your father beat the life out of her for what she'd done." Alric shook his head. "Father was so desperate to reach me, he wasn't overly worried with Adela. He kept her well guarded and locked in the North Tower, but his first priority was rescuing me from Denmar's clutches." 103

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"Judging from those marks on your back, I'd say your father was a touch late." Fresh anger filled Gareth as he thought of the pain Alric must have endured. "How long were you married before Denmar began beating you?" "The first lashing came the week after we arrived at Denmar's holding." Alric's voice was soft and flat. "Some peasant squatters had roosted on Denmar's land, and he wanted me to practice my talents by getting rid of them— permanently. 'Twas the first step in his plan to hone my skills for his own use." "You refused?" Gareth already knew the answer, but asked the question, anyway. "Yes, and as you've seen, Denmar doesn't take rejection kindly. He hated the idea of being wed to a man he couldn't control. He decided he must break me, and each time I refused him, thereafter, another punishment was meted out." "Why didn't you use your powers against him? Why allow him to do that to you?" Alric's voice was low but steady. "Do you think someone as cunning as Denmar hadn't thought of that? He made certain I couldn't use my powers, not even to save myself." Gareth was afraid to ask, but he had to know. "How?" Alric picked at a small hole in the blanket, falling quiet for a time as he worried the fibers with his fingertips. Finally, he said, "Creating fire is easy for me. It's in my veins, running under the surface of my skin. Sometimes I think I am the fire. A being of pure flame: the legendary phoenix pored into the flesh of a mortal man." He managed a rueful smile. "Sorry. Got fanciful for a moment." Alric cleared his throat 104

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and began again. "As I was saying, creating fire is second nature to me. Controlling it, on the other hand, is an act of will that took me years of practice to learn. Even now, conditions have to be just right or the flame can still get away from me." He looked into Gareth's eyes. "From the moment of my first refusal to burn those squatters, Denmar kept me tied to the beamed ceiling of a dry wooden shack behind his keep. At first I tried to fight him, but the attempt did me little good. Gareth remembered the mark on Denmar's cheek. "You burned his face." "Before he locked me in the shack, yes. Afterwards I had no way to release the fire without burning the whole place to the ground and me with it." His voice shook, but he never broke eye contact. "As the beatings and torture grew worse, my resolve weakened, and I no longer cared whether I lived or died. I'd almost made up my mind to burn us both straight to the Under Realms when Denmar upped the stakes." Alric turned his head then, but not before Gareth saw a fine sheen of moisture in his eyes. When Alric at last turned back to face Gareth, his eyes were dry, but haunted. "Denmar has a son, a child he sired by one of his lady mother's handmaidens. Denmar knew me well enough to believe I would never harm an innocent babe. He made certain I couldn't kill myself by locking the child and his mother into the shack with me. If I'd dared use my powers to kill myself, they'd have perished alongside me." Gareth's stomach turned, but Alric was too caught in the past to notice his discomfort. "The torture continued for Creator only knows how long. By the time my father and his 105

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army arrived to rescue me, I truly was mad, the pain and torment having eaten away at my mind. I remember nothing of that time save for screaming in pain when my father finally liberated me from my wooden prison and tried to take me into his arms. I'm told Denmar gave quite the fight, but my father had the Council on his side. King Elwin himself issued the order to annul the marriage." He took a long, slow breath. "The day I was taken from that shed marked the last time I saw Denmar. Until our wedding day, that is." Gareth bit back waves of nausea. Not only had Denmar sorely used the young prince, but Gareth had compounded Alric's misery by taunting him about his marriage. He was so racked with guilt, he didn't realize Alric was looking up at him, waiting for him to say something. Gareth coughed down the bile in his throat. When at last he could speak, he said, "That may have been the end of your marriage, but 'tis far from the end of the story. You've yet to tell me why your stepmother's family blames you for her death." For a moment, Gareth thought Alric would refuse to finish the tale. As it was, Alric hesitated a long moment before saying, "You may not believe this, but even after everything she'd done, I never would have harmed Adela. Not on purpose, leastwise. I've always believed The Creator should mete out justice, not man. My father planned to deliver Adela back to her family and let them deal with her. As soon as my madness began to subside, I agreed wholeheartedly with his decision." His eyes pleaded with Gareth's for understanding. "'Tis the truth. I swear it." 106

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"But why would you and your father absolve her so easily of her sins? Why not send her to Banning so she could answer to the Council for her crimes?" Gareth couldn't fathom the level of forgiveness it must have taken not to hang Adela by her pretty little neck. "For that matter, why allow Denmar to get away with what he did to you? Why didn't Declan crush him like the insect he is?" "The answer to all those questions," Alric said, "is the same: scandal. Father was afraid word of my powers would spread if he took action against Adela and Denmar. He thought it better to let the two of them get away with their crimes than risk exposing the truth about me." Gareth didn't like it, but he knew Declan had been right. Rumors were one thing, but if the full extent of Alric's powers ever became common knowledge, every fortune hunter in Orielle would be after him. "Denmar may have escaped punishment, but Adela did not." Alric swiped at his eyes with unsteady fingers. "She died by my hands, or so they tell me. I vow I remember none of it." Without conscious thought, Gareth reached out and pulled Alric's hand away from his face. He meant only to offer comfort, but a spike of pleasure pierced his body the moment their skin made contact. Gareth jumped back as if stung. He tried to cover the action with a question. "How did she die?" Alric seemed as shaken by the touch as Gareth was, but he, too, tried to hide it. "Adela ... she died the night before she was to return to Winthrop. Burned to death in the very tower where she was being held captive." The candlelight 107

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flickered over his pale face. "My only memory of that night is being awakened from a sound sleep by the smell of smoke and the shouts of the soldiers. The men tried to save Adela, of course, but 'twas no use." A solitary tear ran down his cheek. "Six soldiers perished in the fire alongside Adela." Gareth's fingers itched to brush away the tear as it rolled toward Alric's neck. He stood instead, removing himself from temptation. Pacing for a moment, Gareth stopped at the foot of the bed. "If you have no memory of that night save sleeping, how do you know the fire was your fault?" Alric sat up, the blankets falling to his waist, reminding Gareth his husband was naked beneath the thin covering. Alric seemed to be paying no mind to his current state of undress. "No other cause for the fire was found. No overturned candles, no broken lanterns or oil soaked rags. I hold myself guilty on lack of contrary evidence alone." "And your father?" "He concealed my crime as best he could by blaming the fire on an unknown soldier who got careless with his pipe. Not that it mattered. Word of what happened made it back to Denmar. I'm reasonably certain he's the one who told Adela's father I killed her." "Making sure that Winthrop would no longer stand as Kray's ally." Gareth didn't have to wonder at Denmar's reasoning. With Winthrop out of the way, there would be one less obstacle in his quest to get Alric back. "Right. Until then, King Winthrop believed Adela's death to be an accident." Alric made a face. "We'd buried what was left 108

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of Adela's body at Kray, so I'm sure you can imagine our surprise when Winthrop stormed the keep demanding his daughter's remains be unearthed for surrender to him and proclaiming me a killer." "Denmar never misses an opportunity, does he?" Gareth tightened his fingers into fists. "He probably told Winthrop about your powers, as well." Alric nodded. "'Tis most likely he did, though why Winthrop would attack us today if he knew the full truth of me makes no sense." "Grief makes men do strange things. I would like to know how Winthrop's men knew where to find us, however." Gareth was about to say more when he was distracted by a memory that had been tugging at him since the two of them began talking. He leaned against one of the bedposts and peered down at Alric. "The day of our wedding, when you confronted Denmar outside the castle gates, he gave you something. A sack, I believe." Alric shivered. "Yes." "What was inside?" Another shiver. "A charred finger. Adela's, presumably." Gareth winced. "The worthless churl never stops." "He won't, not until he takes revenge on us all. My father knows this. 'Tis why he forced the two of us into this marriage." Gareth nodded. "Declan believes I can protect you from Denmar." "The problem becomes," Alric said while looking Gareth dead in the eye, "who'll protect you from me?" 109

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"I don't need anyone to save me from you, Alric." Gareth made his smile as gentle as possible. "I feel quite safe in your presence." Alric slumped into the pillows. "Even knowing what sort of monster you've bound yourself to?" Gareth didn't understand why, but it hurt him to hear Alric talk about himself that way. Seeking to lighten the mood, he said, "You don't look like a monster to me. All the monsters I've heard tell of were great, hairy beasts. That scant scattering of fluff on your chest could hardly be considered fur." "Gareth—" "Alric, you cannot help the powers you've been given. The way I see it, you have two choices. The first is to take your gift and pervert it, make it into something evil the way Denmar wanted you to. The second is to use your abilities for good, as you did today when you saved us all from Winthrop's men. I'd say there's little doubt which path you've chosen, and I admire you for that. 'Tis no monster you are, but a man of integrity with a sense of responsibility most others would envy." Alric tried to protest. "But—" Gareth held up his hand. "Stop arguing and get some rest. Balthazar will examine you again in the morning, but for now you need all the sleep you can get to remake the blood you lost." Alric looked around the room. "And where will you sleep?" Gareth pointed to the corner chest. "There are plenty of clean blankets in there. I'll make myself a pallet on the floor 110

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in a moment, but first, I think I'll go downstairs and see about a meal. Are you hungry?" Alric shook his head. "I'm too tired to eat." "Sleep then, and I'll be back in a moment." Gareth left just as thoughts of sharing the bed with Alric began to filter into his head. He pushed them ruthlessly away and let himself out. **** Morning sunlight spilled into the room as Balthazar went over Alric's injuries yet again to make certain they were healing. "You examined me three times yesterday," Alric said. "I'm healed, I tell you. We were supposed to have arrived at Hume a full day ago. If we delay much longer, my sister will worry herself ill." Gareth stepped into the room, carrying himself with a stiffness born of sleeping two full nights on the floor. He caught Balthazar's half-hidden smile and Alric's mumbling frown. "I could hear you complaining out in the hall, Alric." Balthazar stood and pulled the blankets back over Alric before glancing at Gareth. "Good morning, Prince Gareth." "Thank The Creator you're here." Alric fastened his eyes on Gareth. "I say I'm well enough to be on the road, and this one," he pointed to Balthazar, "says I'm not. Tell him I'm fine." "What I said, my prince, is that you've lost a great deal of blood and are still weak from your ordeal. I also said that if 111

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you insist on traveling, we must set a slow pace and stop to rest often." Alric crossed his arms over his chest. "I've been lying here for nigh on three days, and I feel fine." Gareth leaned against the doorframe and looked to Balthazar. "Do you think 'twill harm him to travel, say ... tonight at first dark?" "Not if we keep to the pace I've suggested." "In that case," Gareth said, "we'll travel at night and camp during the day. We've been fortunate none of our enemies has thought to look for us here, but we can't afford to take any chances. I fear Alric is too weak to use his powers, and the three of us will be no match for an armed regimen." Balthazar nodded and was about to take his leave when Alric stopped him. "I've a matter I wish to discuss with you, healer." Balthazar stopped and then turned. "Yes, Prince Alric?" Alric sat up, propping the pillows behind his back to give himself some support. "I've yet to thank you for saving my life. I owe you for that." "You owe me nothing." Balthazar blushed. "You saved my life as well." "Oh, but I do. Especially I shall owe you should you choose to grant me the boon I'm about to ask of you." Balthazar looked wary. "Boon, my prince?" "Yes. As you've no doubt heard, my father is ill. The healers at Kray believe he has little time left to live." Alric swallowed hard. "When we reach Hume, I'd like to send you— with a brace of soldiers to guard you, of course—back to Kray 112

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for the purpose of examining father. I'm asking you to see if there's anything you can do for him." Balthazar hesitated and when at last he spoke, there was fear in his voice. "Sometimes there is nothing anyone can do to heal a man with so grave an illness as King Declan's. I'll be honored to aid your father any way I can, but 'tis quite possible I won't be able to help him." "'All I ask is that you try," Alric said. "I would never place blame on you for something that was out of your control." Balthazar relaxed a fraction, nodded, and then took his leave. Gareth closed the door behind the healer and sat down on the edge of the bed. "You were kind to him." Alric laughed. "You needn't sound so surprised." Gareth grinned. "I'm not surprised by your kindness, but you seemed to take extra care with Balthazar." "From what you've told me, the boy has reason enough to be afraid." Gareth raised his brows. "Boy? Balthazar is only three years younger than you." "Compared to me, he is a boy. Sometimes life has a way of aging a man." Alric changed the subject. "I'd hoped to travel both day and night until we reach Hume. If word of our attack reaches my sister before I do, Glenna will be terrified. 'Tis not good for the babe she carries to have her upset so." Gareth wasn't swayed. "We'll keep to the pace Balthazar deems safest for you and go not a bit faster." Alric didn't like it, but he knew arguing would be of no use. If he didn't know better, he'd say Gareth was concerned for him. It was a most unsettling thought. 113

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**** Between Balthazar's ordered rests and the hilly, forested terrain itself, the journey from Rotham to Hume took three additional days. The slow pace was making Alric irritable, but Gareth didn't fault him for it. He, too, was anxious to be safely inside Hume's walls. Even traveling by night, Gareth was constantly looking over his shoulder and waiting for the enemy to strike. When they at last crested a grassy rise in the early-morning hours of the fourth day and Alric pronounced them at the Hume border, Gareth all but sagged relief. Balthazar rode up on Gareth's left, reining to a stop the small gelding they'd purchased for him from the Rotham innkeeper. "Is this Hume, my prince?" Alric nodded. "We should reach the castle gates within the hour." 'Twas a tense hour for Gareth. After surviving his first meeting with Declan, Gareth should have been prepared for any member of Alric's family. And it wasn't as if he and Alric were a pair of star-crossed lovers seeking his family's blessing. Why, then, was his quivering stomach not convinced? Gareth tried to settle himself as they rode on. He was feeling a fraction better by the time they reached the castle itself. Unlike Castle Kray, which was surrounded by a substantial moat, Hume's keep was bordered by a steep, sheer wall some thirty feet high. Guard towers peaked each of the four 114

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corners, and armed men patrolled the top of the wall. The sentries must have been on full alert, for a group of mounted soldiers was waiting for them just outside the iron gates. The leader of the guards, a seasoned warrior of at least sixty years, recognized Alric at once. The fellow dismounted and bowed low to the ground. As soon as Alric acknowledged the show of respect, the old soldier straightened and said, "Prince Alric, thank The Creator you're here. Queen Glenna has been out of her mind with worry. You can't fathom the rumors that have reached us about you." "I'm afraid I can, Sully, though I'm grieved to hear of Glenna's worry." Alric gestured to Gareth. "Sully, allow me to present my husband, Prince Gareth, formerly of Lachlan." Sully bowed to Gareth as Alric next indicated Balthazar. "And this is Balthazar, once of Lundfree, now the chief healer of Kray." Balthazar seemed surprised by Alric's announcement, but Gareth wasn't. He'd guessed Alric would find a way to reward Balthazar for all he'd done. Making him Kray's chief healer was a high honor, indeed. Alric smiled at the elderly soldier. "Gentlemen, this is Sully, an old family friend and the captain of Hume's guard." Sully bowed again and then climbed back into the saddle. "Please, follow me so that we may deliver you to the Queen and set her mind at ease." The soldiers parted to allow the three of them room enough to follow Sully toward the gates. The heavy fixtures swung inward as they approached. Several of the soldiers in the courtyard bowed to them as they passed, but Gareth's 115

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attention was focused on the tiny, dark haired woman running towards them. Perhaps waddling would have been a better description. The woman's belly was so heavy with child she seemed close to overbalancing herself. No doubt this was Alric's sister. If the pregnancy hadn't given her away, the resemblance would have. Glenna's long, wavy hair was the same lightless black as Alric's, her eyes the same glowing silver. It was the love in those eyes that transformed her face from simply beautiful to stunning as she raced towards them. Alric all but jumped from his saddle and hurried to take hold of her before she fell on the rocky ground. Catching her to his chest, he said, "Slow down, sister, or you'll have your babe here in the courtyard." He brushed a curl from her eyes and kissed her forehead. A tall, blond man came up behind her. His corded arms were crossed over his chest, but his green eyes were dancing with laughter. "'Tis no use trying to talk to her. The woman has been out of her mind with worry." "Can you blame me?" Glenna turned long enough to glare at the man before turning back to Alric. "You should have been here days ago. Not to mention the horrible tales we've heard." Her delicate features creased with concern. "Where have you been? What happened to you, darling boy?" Alric smiled at the endearment. "I have much to tell you, but first, there are two men I'd like you to meet." He introduced Balthazar first, who'd already quit his horse, and then motioned for Gareth to dismount. 116

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Once Gareth was on the ground, Alric said, "Glenna and Rowan, I'd like you to meet my husband Gareth." Glenna pulled away from her brother, then took her place at her husband's side. She gave Gareth a dazzling smile and curtsied as best she could with her bulging belly in the way. "'Tis an honor to have you here, my lord. Welcome to Hume." Rowan seconded the sentiment and was about to say more when a commotion at the far end of the courtyard caught his attention. Gareth watched as a slender, handsome man with long, straw-colored hair and blinding green eyes made his way across the grounds. He was well dressed and bore a striking resemblance to King Rowan. The man rushed over to Alric and embraced him. "Alric, how good it is to know you are safe." And before Gareth knew what was happening, the grinning knave pulled Alric close and covered his mouth in a full-tongued kiss.

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Chapter Seven Alric was torn between staggering embarrassment and the nagging urge to kill Rowan's cousin as he untangled his lips from Finn's. He said nothing, but his eyes promised Finn a reckoning. He glanced back at Gareth. "Gareth, I'd like you to meet—" "Finneas of Hume, first cousin to Rowan the king, at your service." Finn bowed low. Gareth's jaw was set in a rigid line, but he returned Finn's bow with a stiff one of his own. "'Tis a pleasure, Finneas." He seemed to be grinding his teeth. Finn's smile was dazzling in the early morning sun. "Please, call me Finn. Finneas is so formal." Gareth might have said something had Rowan not spoken first. "Gareth will have time enough to get to know you later, Finn. As of now, I imagine our three travelers here could do with a hot bath and some nourishment." A bath. After three days on the road, being clean had never sounded so good to Alric. "We'd be most grateful, thank you." Glenna waved away his gratitude. "No need to thank us. Stefan will soon be up from his morning nap. We can't have you greeting him with all that hair on your face." "I doubt he even remembers me, Glenna." "Maybe not, but you're talked about often enough that he knows who you are." Rowan clapped Alric on the back. "Stefan's almost as excited about your visit as Glenna." 118

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Glenna nudged Rowan in the side with her elbow. "You were just as excited, husband." Rowan nodded. "That I was." Balthazar spoke up as three grooms came rushing from the stables to take their horses. "Prince Alric, I know 'twas your wish for me to travel back to Kray and tend to King Declan. I'm prepared to leave now, if you so desire." Alric shook his head. "You've earned a full day's worth of meals and a solid night's rest in a real bed. After our respite, I'll speak to Rowan about designating a regiment to see you safely back to Kray. Tomorrow, perhaps." "Now that the matter is settled," Rowan said, "let us see to your needs." Alric spared Gareth a glance. The thought of a warm meal and fresh clothes must have sounded just as good to him. Gareth actually stopped glaring at Finn long enough to follow Rowan and Glenna into the keep. **** Alric sat down on the bed after bathing and donning the tunic and hose Rowan had loaned him. The clothes he'd worn the day of the attack were shredded to rags, and after wearing his spare set for nearly four days on end, Alric was grateful to once again have clean cloth touching his skin. He'd just pulled on his boots when the door was flung wide and a grinning Finn came into the room. Without waiting for an invitation, Finn sank onto the velvet coverlet beside Alric and flopped to the mattress on his back. Looking up to see 119

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Alric's scowl, he said, "What has you so vexed? Have you a bee in your boot?" Getting angry with Finn was easy, but maintaining that anger was near impossible. Still, Alric put up a valiant effort. "You know what has me riled. What were you thinking, kissing me like that in front of Glenna and the rest?" Finn laced his arms behind his head and pretended to think about it. "'Twas a simple kiss, cousin. Nothing you and I have not done before." "There was nothing simple about that kiss and well you know it. Besides which, we are cousins by marriage alone." Finn rolled to the side and propped his head on his elbow. "'Tis a good thing we have no blood between us." His lips slanted into a teasing leer. "Otherwise the things we did together on your last visit would have been against the law in at least twelve under-kingdoms." Alric's face heated at the reminder of the time they'd spent together, but he kept his voice stern. "Have you any idea how embarrassing it was to be mauled in front of my sister? Have you no shame?" "Shame? Me?" Finn laughed. "Not an ounce, I assure you." He sat up and ruffled Alric's hair. "As for Glenna, she's a grown woman. 'Twas not the first time she saw two men kiss, and I wager twill not be the last." "That's not the point." "The point," Finn said, "has already been made. Glenna wasn't the one glaring daggers at me from across the courtyard. That honor belongs to your pretty new husband." 120

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"Gareth's glaring at you had nothing to do with me." On that, Alric was adamant. "The man doesn't want to be here. I imagine he'll glare at everyone in the keep before this visit is through." "If you believe that, you're more naive than I took you for." Finn sounded rather sure of himself. "Your warrior may have come to the marriage unwillingly, but his feelings are changing. I promise you that." Alric narrowed his eyes. "How did you know Gareth was unwilling to wed me?" His eyes widened as the answer hit him. "You've been having visions about the two of us, haven't you?" "Quiet, you." Finn put his finger to his lips and lowered his voice to a loud whisper. He pointed to the door on the other side of the room, the one connecting Alric's chambers to Gareth's. "The walls may be made of stone, but that door is thin enough. You don't want your beloved to think you keep company with a witch, now do you?" "Having visions doesn't make you a witch." "No?" "No. It makes you..." Alric trailed off as he searched for the right word. Remembering what Gareth had said about his own powers, Alric continued with, "Gifted. It makes you gifted." "What a way with words you have." Finn sounded impressed. "All right, then. Gifted it is. And as it happens, I have had a vision or two about you and Lord Lachlan." Alric was afraid to ask. Finn had what Glenna referred to as "the sight." Sometimes he knew things before they 121

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happened, and sometimes he seemed able to read people's thoughts. As far as Alric knew, Finn's visions was never wrong. "What..." Alric's voice came out hoarse and stilted. "What did you see?" Finn bounded from the bed with his usual enthusiasm and peered down into Alric's face, his green eyes dancing. "You needn't be worried." He came around to the other side of the bed and propped himself against the end post. "When the message came from Kray announcing your wedding, I was the one who received the missive from the messenger." Alric didn't have to ask what he meant. Finn's powers of perception were strongest through touch. If he'd touched a letter from Declan ... "You picked up my father's thoughts through the paper." "'Twas more scattered impressions that I got. A fear Lachlan didn't want you. The hope he would come around eventually." Finn again threw himself onto the mattress beside Alric, this time lying on his stomach with his elbows on the bed and his head in his hands. He tilted to the side to better see Alric. "Since you are indeed wed, it seems Declan was right. Lachlan did come around, after all." Alric stood then. He crossed the room to make a show of unpacking the few belongings he'd brought with him. "Only because he was forced." And before Finn could question it, Alric told him all that had happened from the moment Gareth arrived at Kray until the three of them rode up to the gates of Hume. 122

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To his credit, Finn interrupted not once during the tale. It was one of the things Alric liked best about Finn, his ability to listen. Only when Alric had recounted the whole sordid story and collapsed into a chair near the hearth did Finn say, "'Twould seem Gareth of Lachlan has more mettle than I gave him credit for." "Because he didn't run fleeing the minute I shot fire from my fingers?" "Don't be dense." Finn pulled himself upright. "The man has had at least a dozen opportunities to rid himself of you since that arrow pierced your back, yet he's chosen to remain by your side. Why is that, I wonder?" "Loyalty and honor, Finn. Those are the only things that kept Gareth from leaving me in that field to die. If you're implying he's capable of feeling anything toward me beyond that, you're fooling yourself." Finn crossed his legs. "We shall see." He paused. "Does your husband know about us?" "No. Why would he?" Suddenly, that kiss in the courtyard began to make sense. "You picked up those impressions about Gareth's reluctance from my father's letter, and now you seek to make him jealous, is that it?" When Finn didn't bother to deny it, Alric sank further into the chair, weariness taking hold. "You're wasting your time. I could take you on the hall table and Gareth wouldn't blink an eye. He same as said I could bed whomever I wanted for all he cared." "Saying and meaning are two different things." "Not where Gareth is concerned." Alric yawned. "Besides, you and I were never lovers. Not really. You did me a great 123

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favor, but we knew going in we were nothing more than friends." Finn stood, then crossed over to the chair. Taking Alric's hand, he pulled him to his feet. "I say you were the one who did me the favor, but we'll not argue it now." He led him over to the bed and pushed him down to the mattress. "We'll continue this discussion later, after you've slept." Finn waited until Alric was on his back and then tugged at his right boot. Tossing it to the floor, Finn started on the left. "Why did you bother putting these things back on?" Another yawn. "I'd planned on visiting with Glenna and Rowan after my bath." "Glenna can wait." Finn discarded the other boot and then pulled the covers over Alric's unresisting form. "If I had to guess, I'd say the healer and Lachlan have already taken to their beds. 'Tis your turn." Alric fell asleep before he could answer. **** The evening meal was a veritable feast held in celebration of their arrival. Sweetmeats and pastries filled golden chargers while a roast goose and suckling pig weighted down the long oak table of the hall. Gareth watched in amusement as Stefan stuffed a whole egg into his mouth, much to his mother's horror. "Stefan, for goodness sake, you'll have Gareth believing we never feed you. Slow down and chew your food."

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"But I'm hungry, Mama," Stefan said around a mouthful of egg. His silver eyes, so much like Glenna's and Alric's, focused on a cold tart just to the other side of his trencher. Rowan snagged the tart, placing it in front of his son. He ruffled the boy's dark hair. "Eat up, lad. A growing boy needs nourishment." That earned him a dark glare from Glenna, but Rowan didn't seem overly worried about his wife's anger. Much to his surprise, Gareth found himself liking Alric's family. Glenna was warm and open, and Rowan had a frankness of manner and plainness of speech which Gareth found refreshing. As for Stefan, he was a lively sprite who never seemed to run out of things to say. All in all, there was only one member of the Hume household whom Gareth had trouble tolerating. The man who, at that very moment, was sitting next to Alric, hanging on his every word. Gareth wasn't certain why he disliked Finneas of Hume, but something about the man put him off. He told himself it had nothing to do with the way Finn was always touching Alric or laughing as if at some private joke between the two of them. And his dislike of the knave had absolutely no relation to that kiss Finn had given Alric in the courtyard. Alric was free to kiss anyone he wanted. Hadn't Gareth told Alric as much? Glenna broke into his thoughts. She was sitting next to her husband at the head of the table, watching Gareth closely. "I trust the accommodations were to your liking, Gareth?" Gareth smiled. Glenna was such a gentle lady, reminding him much of Tristam's Maris. "The accommodations are most 125

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excellent, my queen. Indeed, Castle Hume reminds me much of Kray. I can see the same hand in both places." Glenna blushed at the compliment. "My mother was a most gracious hostess. I confess, when Rowan and I married, I modeled my home after Kray." She hesitated. "I was uncertain as to whether or not you and Alric would prefer separate rooms. 'Tis the fashion—or so I hear—for bonded males to entertain separate quarters, but if you'd prefer one chamber..." Alric, seated one place down from his sister, answered before Gareth could say anything. "The rooms are perfect, Glenna." He placed his hand on Glenna's arm. "Your household is as welcoming as Mother's ever was." Finn placed his hand on Alric's shoulder. "Don't worry, Glenna. Should Alric get lonely, I am just down the hall." Gareth's fingers tightened around the silver goblet he was holding. Rowan must have noticed, because he said, "I imagine Alric's husband is quite capable of keeping him company, Finn. In fact, you might consider taking a husband of your own. You're almost four and twenty. I should think 'tis high time you left the nest." "And give up my position as the family jester?" Finn shuddered. "Why in The Creator's name would I want to do that?" Gareth placed his goblet back on the table. "Perhaps what Finneas needs, King Rowan, is an occupation. I believe there to be a village nearby in sore need of an idiot. Finn seems well suited to the task." 126

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Rowan had just taken a hearty sip of wine when Gareth's words caused him to swallow the wrong way. Glenna gave him a healthy tap on the back. "What's an idiot, Mama?" Stefan seemed excited by the prospect of Finn's employment. "If Finn's to be an idiot, may I be an idiot, too?" Glenna plied her son with another tart. "'Twould take up too much of my time, I'm afraid." Finn didn't seem the least offended. He gave Alric a look far too familiar for Gareth's liking. "I prefer to spend my days in search of more ... pleasurable pursuits." Gareth was just about to ask the grinning cur how pleasurable he'd find a boot up the arse when Glenna said, "I do wish young Balthazar had been able to dine with us. From what the servants tell me, the poor thing was too tired even to take a meal in his room." "'Twas a rough journey for all of us, my queen." Gareth pushed his trencher away. "Balthazar has earned his rest. Were it not for him, Alric would not have survived." Gareth's meal rolled in his stomach at the thought. Rowan signaled to a servant hovering nearby. "Alistair, escort Stefan to the nursery." When Stefan waged a protest, Rowan said, "You may take your tart with you, lad. 'Tis high time you were bathed and put to bed." Stefan grumbled something about not needing a bath, but after kissing both his parents goodnight, he allowed the servant to escort him from the hall. Once Stefan was out of sight, Rowan pushed his own trencher away and folded his elbows on the table. "Now that 127

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my son is gone, I would hear the full truth of what happened to the two of you." With Alric's help, Gareth recounted their attack by Winthrop. By the time he was finished with the tale, Rowan was shaking with rage, Glenna was aghast, and even the ever-jovial Finn had taken on an air of seriousness. Rowan banged his fist on the table. "I'll see that whoreson Winthrop on his knees and begging for mercy before the month is out." "I am just grateful that you had a healer of Balthazar's skill on hand." Glenna fanned her flushed cheeks with her fingers. "I cannot bear to think what would have happened, otherwise." "Nor can I." Rowan took another draught of his wine. "I'll speak to Sully first thing tomorrow. Once Balthazar is safely at Kray, seeing to Declan's health, we'll retaliate against Winthrop and I'll see the soldiers who abandoned you on the field hunted down like the dogs they are." Gareth nodded. "Tristam will no doubt have the same reaction, though I confess my main target is Denmar. 'Tis time the man paid for his sins." "No." Alric's voice cut through the quiet of the hall. "There will be no retribution. Not for my sake, leastwise." His silver eyes bore straight into Gareth's. "I know you've your own reasons for wanting Denmar dead—good reasons—but if you're looking for vengeance on my behalf, I won't allow it." Rowan didn't seem surprised, but neither was he pleased. "Have you forgotten what the villain put you through? By The Creator, Alric, he should be punished. And as for Winthrop—" 128

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"Winthrop lost his daughter, at my hands, no less." Alric stood. "If Winthrop is to be punished for his attempt on me, should not I get my just desserts for taking Adela's life?" He bowed to his sister. "Excuse my rudeness, Glenna, but I'm afraid I've lost my appetite." He turned and left the hall without giving her a chance to answer. "He's tired and overwrought." Finn stood, as well. "I'll talk to him." Gareth was on his feet before Finn had taken so much as a step. "If anyone speaks to Alric, 'twill be me. When I need your help dealing with my husband, Finneas, I'll damn well ask for it." With an apologetic glance toward Glenna and a bow to Rowan, Gareth left. He should have known Finneas wouldn't give in. The man caught up to Gareth at the torch-lit corridor leading to the guest chambers. "Lachlan, I'll have a word with you ere you speak to Alric." "Go away." Gareth's reply came out a rough growl. "I've had all I intend to tolerate from you for one night." "Your druthers don't concern me." The strength in Finn's grip when he grabbed Gareth's arm was surprising. "You may not consider me a worthy adversary, but I vow you'll find out how formidable I can be before I'll allow you to add another hurt to the myriad Alric has already suffered." Gareth shrugged off Finn's hand. "What gives you the right to dictate how I handle my own husband?" "Did Alric tell you that Declan sent him here to Hume a scant month after Adela died?" 129

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The sudden change in subject was startling, but Gareth quickly recovered. "No, but what has that to do with—" "Hush and listen." Finn's voice was like steel, his backbone straight as a lance. Taking a deep breath, he said, "Declan sent him here, claiming he wanted to get Alric away from the rumors and speculation of his involvement in Adela's death." He snorted. "That's what Declan claimed, anyway, but I know the truth. Declan sent Alric here because he was tired of sitting suicide watch." Although Alric had hinted of a time when he'd lost the will to live, hearing the words stated so bluntly caused a pain in Gareth's chest. He swore, and Finn looked at him as if he'd sprouted a second head. "Don't tell me you're surprised? Surely even you can see the basic goodness residing in Alric's heart. How did you think he'd react to causing the death of one unarmed woman and six of Kray's own soldiers?" Gareth shook his head. "Alric used his powers against Winthrop's men." "And the only reason he isn't beating himself bloody about it is because he believes saving you and the rest was worth the sacrifice. I doubt seriously if he'd have lifted a finger against those men were it only to save himself." "You speak about him as if he's some sniveling coward." Gareth didn't like the thought of anyone seeing Alric as weak. "I assure you, that isn't the case. Alric nearly throttled Tristam in the courtyard at Kray. He certainly seemed capable enough of defending himself, then." Finn cocked his head to the side. "But was he defending himself or someone else? His father, perhaps?" Finn smiled 130

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over Gareth's shocked expression, but there was no warmth behind it. "You'd be surprised the things Alric tells me. One thing he doesn't have to tell me, however, is what will happen if you wage war against Denmar and Winthrop. Even if you claim the attack on Denmar is only to avenge your dead husband, Alric will believe somewhere in the back of his mind 'tis all his fault. He'll hold himself accountable for the life of each and every soldier lost in the fray. You cannot ask that of him. I'll not allow it." "Again you tell me what you will and will not allow." Gareth's voice rose. "Again I ask, who are you to tell me how to deal with my mate?" "Someone who knows him," Finn said. "Someone who cares." Gareth wasn't swayed. "Alric should be glad to finally have the vengeance so long denied him." "How can you be so stupid?" Finn stood against him, unblinking as he stared Gareth down. "Why do you think Declan never went after Denmar for his crimes?" Without giving Gareth a chance to answer, Finn went on. "I'll tell you why. Because Declan knows his son well enough to know that, deep down, Alric believes he deserves every despicable, torturous thing Denmar ever did to him." Gareth stepped back as if slapped. "You're lying." But the denial was halfhearted. Gareth could see the truth in Finn's eyes. His voice fell to a near whisper. "But that's insane." "'Tis insane to you, but to Alric it makes perfect sense. He believes—has always believed, I suspect—himself to be 131

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something less than human. Alric is waiting for the day the fire turns on him and takes control." The enormity of what Finn was saying shook Gareth to his core. That Alric could see himself in such a light was unfathomable. "I'll ... I'll talk to him, make him understand." "You think a few well placed words will take away twentyone-years of self-loathing?" Finn crossed his arms over his chest. "How completely arrogant you are." "Since you seem to think you know everything there is to know about Alric," Gareth ground out the words, "what would you suggest I do?" "Alric needs someone—a person who wants him not because of his powers but because of the man he is inside—to show him just how much his life is worth. Someone who isn't bound to him by blood the way Glenna and Declan are. Someone who's willing to devote all the time and energy it will take to convince him he is worthy of love and acceptance." Gareth knew what Finn was asking. He balked as Kiel's face flashed in his mind. The day he'd said goodbye to his husband, Gareth had vowed never to let another man anywhere near his heart. Already his feelings towards Alric were softening. If he did as Finn was suggesting, there'd be no way for Gareth to keep up the walls he'd erected. "I can't do this thing you ask of me." "Then you're a bigger fool than I took you for." Finn turned to go but stopped just short of leaving the corridor. Over his shoulder, he said, "Alric told me you care not whom he keeps company with. 'Tis a good thing." 132

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Gareth's hands curled into fists. "And why is that, pray tell?" Finn shrugged. "You may not be willing to give Alric what he needs, but I'll do whatever it takes to see that he feels his worth." His smile was slow and laced with meaning. "A more possessive husband might disapprove of my methods." With those words, Finn left Gareth standing in the hall, a dark haze of fear and jealousy blocking his vision. **** The next week was endless. Gareth hadn't spoken more than a handful of polite phrases to Alric since their first night at Hume. Most vexing to Gareth was, of course, Finneas. The man was like a gnat, always hovering around Alric, using the awkward divide between him and Gareth to full advantage. If Gareth had to listen as Alric laughed at another of Finneas's ridiculous jokes, he swore Rowan would soon have one less cousin. However annoying Finneas was, Gareth knew the majority of his problems came from his own changing feelings. Since hearing the full truth about Alric's first marriage, Gareth had gone from thinking of his new husband as a burr in the side to an ever-widening desire to protect Alric and take away the pain he still carried with him. By far the hardest part of it all was the shift in Gareth's feelings toward Kiel. For two years, Gareth had been unable to think about Kiel without a stabbing lurch in his stomach and an ache in his chest. Recently, he'd noticed a lessoning of that pain. Gareth still missed Kiel, but he was starting to 133

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remember the good times they'd shared instead of dwelling on his loss. Worse still, thoughts of Kiel were being interspersed with images of Alric. Alric's face. His smile. The husky cadence of his laughter. No doubt, Gareth's attitudes were changing. The question became, what was he to do about it? The conflict came to a head exactly seven days after their arrival at Hume. Gareth was walking back to his room after checking on Merrick when the soft sound of masculine laughter caught his attention. He came around a bend in the hallway just in time to see Finneas leaving Alric's room. Keeping to the shadows, Gareth crept closer, his senses on full alert. He watched as Finneas leaned in and pressed his lips against Alric's forehead. "Thank you for the most enjoyable evening I've passed in a long while." Finneas trailed his finger over the bridge of Alric's nose. "Lachlan has no idea what a treasure he holds in you." Even in the wan light of the corridor, Gareth could see Alric's blush. He muttered something—Gareth heard not what—and then closed the door. Gareth watched as Finneas slithered away, going in the opposite direction. He was incensed to hear the insolent whelp whistling. The moment Finneas was out of sight, Gareth charged down the hall to Alric's room. He opened the door with one swift kick. Alric had stripped for bed and was wearing not a stitch, but not even the sight of his husband's nude beauty could pull Gareth from his course. 134

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"Are you lovers?" Alric grabbed his garments from the chair where he'd draped them and made an attempt to cover himself. "What are you doing in here?" "Answer the question." Gareth crossed his arms. "Are you lovers?" "Me and Finn?" When Gareth narrowed his eyes, Alric said, "Why would you think that?" "When a man sees another man leaving his husband's bedchamber at this hour, he's inclined to think all sorts of things." It was Alric's turn to narrow his eyes. "You were spying on me." "I was doing nothing of the sort." Gareth found himself on the defensive, and he didn't like it. "I'm asking the questions here, and you still haven't answered mine." Alric turned, giving Gareth an enticing view of his bare backside as he struggled to pull his hose back on without relinquishing his hold on the shirt. "The answer to your question is yes and no." Gareth gritted his teeth. "I'm in no mood for word games." "And I'm in no mood for an inquisition." Alric tied his hose before turning back to face Gareth. "I'll simplify it for you. Yes, Finn and I were lovers of a kind when last I was here, and no, we haven't resumed the relationship since my return." "But Finneas would like to." The prospect left a foul taste in Gareth's mouth. 135

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Alric pulled his shirt over his head. "He's hinted at as much," he said, his voice muffled through the fabric. "I believe his devotion is all for show." He slipped his head through and smoothed the shirt into place. "Finn is trying to make you jealous, Gareth." He shrugged. "I told him 'twas of no use, but Finn has this insane notion that seeing us together will render you crazed with envy." "Yes, ah..." Hearing Finneas's plan had Gareth stammering for words. "That is insane." Except it wasn't. Gareth had done exactly as predicted. The minute he'd seen Finneas leaving Alric's room, he'd blazed in, ready to defend his property. Alric sat down on the stone window seat. "Finn thinks our marriage has sanctified me a new man, but I know the truth even if he refuses to see it." Something in his tone gave Gareth pause. "And what truth is that?" "I'll never escape Denmar's taint." Alric's voice held an absolute certainty that shook Gareth to the core. "Every time I close my eyes, I can feel his loathsome touch and smell the fetid stench of his breath. My skin still crawls where the heat of his body connected with mine." Alric's fingernails dragged against the unyielding bench. "Do you know what the worst of it is?" Gareth couldn't imagine anything worse than what he was hearing, but he shook his head. "The worst is knowing how I welcomed his touches in the beginning. I willingly took a monster to my bed. There is no walking away from that." 136

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In that instant, something broke inside of Gareth. Maybe it was the dejection on Alric's face or the utter lack of hope in his eyes. No matter the cause, Gareth vowed to spend the rest of his life, if necessary, doing whatever it took to wipe away his Alric's pain. He couldn't love Alric—not as he'd loved Kiel—but he would damn sure do everything in his power to make Alric happy. The man had been through pure torment, and Gareth owed him nothing less than to put forth his best effort in the marriage. That best effort included full marital privileges. Maybe he couldn't make Alric forget Denmar's touch, but perhaps he could dull the memories. Just the thought of taking Alric to bed had Gareth hardening. For the first time since Kiel's death, he felt no guilt. Kiel hadn't possessed a selfish bone in his body. He wouldn't begrudge Gareth the physical pleasure of joining with Alric. Before he could even think about that, Gareth had some wooing to do. He'd been too insistent on pushing Alric away to show the man a radical change of heart now. Alric would never believe it. No, Gareth needed a plan. "Go riding with me tomorrow." Alric blinked. "I beg your pardon?" "Riding. You know, on the back of a horse?" "You want me to go riding with you tomorrow?" "I just said so, didn't I? Merrick is getting little enough exercise from the stable hands, and I'm willing to say your stallion is suffering the same neglect." 137

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Another blink. "A moment ago, you came crashing in here, ready to take my head from my shoulders about Finn, and now you've an urge to ride?" "I asked you a question, and you answered it. Argument ended." Gareth stepped to the door. "I'll see you at sunrise. Best to get an early start." Gareth left before Alric could protest, his heart lighter than it had been in years. **** Alric held little stock in miracles, but surely the change in his husband was nothing short of a celestial intervention. Overnight Gareth had gone from barely noticing Alric was alive to spending every waking moment with him. In truth, Alric had hardly taken a step in the last week without Gareth at his side. Gareth's constant presence wasn't the only change. His stoic silence had given way to talking with Alric about anything and everything. Creator forbid, Gareth was treating Alric like a friend. Still puzzling over the sudden shift, Alric squinted in the early morning sunlight of the stable yard as he watched the object of his most recent thoughts approach. "Where are you going?" "Just beyond the backside of the castle walls." Alric tightened his stallion's saddle until he was satisfied it was secure. "If I remember correctly, a stand of pines lies about an hour's ride from here." He smiled. "Stefan wants me to carve some figures to go with the horses I made for him, and pine is the best wood for the task." 138

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Gareth signaled to a passing groom and instructed him to ready Merrick. Turning back to Alric, he said, "'Tis not safe to ride out alone. I'll go with you." Alric rolled his eyes. "Rowan has patrols running from here to all four of the borders. As long as I stick to Hume land, I'll be more than safe." "Getting tired of my company, already?" Though Gareth was teasing, Alric sensed an underlying insecurity that surprised him, especially since it was a needless worry. Alric was finding himself more and more looking forward to his time with Gareth. "I'm not tiring of you, just saying that I don't need an escort." "In that case, I'll ask Cook to pack us a meal, and we'll make a day of it." The matter decided in his own mind, Gareth left to do just that. Less than an hour later, they were well on their way, having left the confinement of the castle walls for the green of the surrounding countryside. Alric gave his mount a freer rein and relaxed into the glory of the day. Though the temperature was still warm, a cooling breeze carried the hint of autumn. Alric noticed a slight coloring in some of the leaves. The trees on the back side of the wall were thick, but the patrols had forged several clear paths that made the trek to the pine thicket easier. The hour's ride passed quickly, with the conversation between them animated and flowing. Once they arrived at the tight copse of pine, Alric selected several choice boughs from those on the ground. He secured 139

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them to the back of his saddle while Gareth lounged against the trunk of a slender sapling and watched Merrick graze. Once done, Alric started to remount, but Gareth put a hand on his shoulder and stopped him. He'd been so bent to his task, Alric hadn't even heard the other man approach. Gareth pointed to a clearing on the other side of the grove. "We should settle over there and have our meal before we go." He rubbed his flat belly and smiled. "The rumblings of my stomach will frighten the horses." Alric laughed and followed Gareth to the spot. The thick trees and dense undergrowth surrounding the area gave it a secluded feel that Alric found unsettling. For the first time since Gareth's change in attitude, the two of them were well and truly alone. Gareth sank down on the needle-carpeted ground and opened the cloth sack he'd snagged from the back of his saddle. As soon as Alric sat down beside him, Gareth removed a loaf of crusty bread and a hunk of cheese from the bag. The bread he broke in half, handing one piece to Alric and laying the other in his lap. With his dagger, Gareth cut a thin slice of cheese. He extended his hand to Alric, but instead of using his other hand to peel the slice from the blade, he held the morsel to Alric's mouth. Alric hesitated, and Gareth snorted his impatience. "Go ahead and take it. I won't cut you." Using his teeth, Alric tugged the cheese free from the blade. Gareth watched his every move with a keen gaze that had Alric squirming. Finally turning away with an expression on his face Alric couldn't quite place, Gareth halved the 140

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cheese as he'd done with the bread, and the two of them finished their meal in silence. It was the first time in a week they'd been through a whole meal without talking. Alric didn't realize he'd voiced his thoughts aloud until Gareth said, "'Tis your own fault." His frown deepened. "You act as if you fear my touch." Alric was quick to deny it. "It isn't that." He sought the right words. "All the changes in you ... they confuse me. When first we arrived at Hume, you avoided me at every turn." "I wasn't avoiding you." Gareth's mouth fell into a thin line. "I just couldn't get close enough to talk to you without Finneas in the way." Alric sighed and lay back on the soft earth with his arms folded behind his head. "I told you why. Finn was trying to make you jealous. He holds no real affection for me." "He wants you." "I can't believe you're still holding a grudge over a little kiss." Maybe it was the drowsiness induced by a full stomach, but Alric paid no heed to the warning in Gareth's voice when he said, "That was no kiss." "What would you call it then?" Gareth was up and over him in an instant. Alric could do little more than move his hands from behind his head and brace them against Gareth's chest as Gareth descended and stretched his body full length on top of Alric's. With his face a mere breath away, Gareth said, "I call Finneas's pawing what it was, the amateurish fondling of a 141

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lack-witted boy." Gareth moved even closer until their noses were nearly touching. "This, my prince, is a kiss." With that, Gareth closed his eyes and lowered his head.

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Chapter Eight Gareth took full advantage of Alric's surprise. He swept his tongue into Alric's slightly open mouth, running it over his teeth and into the soft cavern beyond. He tasted of bread and of cheese, with an exotic flavor thrown in. Gareth's senses were quickly overwhelmed, his body awash with need. At first Alric seemed too shocked to respond, but it wasn't long before Gareth felt the first timid stirrings of reciprocation. Alric moaned and shifted his hips, rocking against Gareth's already throbbing erection and causing stars to dance behind his eyelids. Gareth moved his hands between them and reached for the hem of Alric's tunic. He'd just worked his fingers underneath when the clearing of a throat drew his attention. Alric broke away first, but Gareth's passion-clouded brain proved slower to react. After a full minute, he turned his head and looked up, murder in his eyes when he saw Finn standing over them. Gareth rolled to the side but kept one hand on Alric's stomach in a blatant show of ownership. "I don't know how you found us out here, Finneas, but I pray you have a good reason for intruding. Think carefully, because your life could well depend on your answer." Finn ignored Gareth's threat and spoke directly to Alric. "A messenger has arrived from Kray." His eyes grew dark. "'Tis about your father." **** 143

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Alric remembered nothing of the ride back to the keep. He jumped from his stallion's back the moment they entered the courtyard and hit the ground at a full run. Rowan was sitting at the hall table trying to comfort an openly-weeping Glenna. Alric's heart leapt into his throat as he began to fear the worst. He stopped just short of the table and braced himself for the bad news to come. Looking to the messenger who was standing not far from the hearth, Alric forced the words from his throat. "My father, is he..." The freckle-faced lad shook his head. "He lives, my prince, but the healer, Balthazar, bade me tell you that King Declan's condition is worsening. Indeed, he asks that you return to Kray posthaste." Fear and despair made it impossible for Alric to move. He felt a warm hand cover the small of his back. "You'll ride back to Kray with us," Gareth told the messenger. "If King Rowan would be so kind as to arrange an escort and some provisions, we'll leave within the hour." Rowan nodded. "I'll see to it immediately." Glenna dabbed at her eyes with the sleeve of her overdress. "I wish I could go with you. I ... tell Father how much I love him, please." Alric's heart broke at the desolation on Glenna's face, but again, Gareth came to the rescue. "He knows, sweet lady." Gareth gave her a winning smile. "When first I spoke to your father, the mutual devotion between Declan and his children was plain for even me—a rank stranger—to see." 144

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Glenna blinked hard to clear her watery eyes. "You're right, of course. Father knows I love him. He simply has to." Alric came to where his sister sat and pulled her to her feet for a tight hug. Forcing a smile, he said, "This is all you'll get in the way of goodbye from me. You know how I hate long farewells." She kissed his cheek and smoothed an errant lock of hair away from his forehead. "I prefer to think of this as a temporary separation rather than a farewell." She looked around him to smile again at Gareth. "The next I see you both, Father will be well, and he'll have a new grandchild to spoil at his knee." Alric gave her another squeeze before pulling away, unable to tell his sister he feared she'd never lay eyes on their father again. Instead, he said, "Tell Stefan I'll have some new carvings for him when next we visit." "Won't you go to the nursery and tell him yourself?" "Not this time." Knowing Stefan, he'd be full of questions over their sudden departure, ones Alric wasn't certain he could answer. Rowan seemed to understand Alric's unspoken reasoning. "You'll see the boy next time." He stood and pulled Alric into a brotherly embrace. "May The Creator keep you safe and speed you on your way." "And may He guard you and my sister, as well." Alric moved back and looked to Gareth. "We'd best pack for the journey."

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Gareth nodded and said his own goodbyes before following Alric into the hall. Once they were alone, Gareth took Alric's hand. "Are you all right?" "I won't know the answer to that question," Alric said, "until I've seen my father." Finn met them at the door leading to the guest chambers. "I've set the servants to packing your things. You should be ready for the road in a matter of moments." "Thank you, Finn." Alric grasped Finn's hand, silently probing his shadow-laden eyes. "Did you see anything from the messenger?" Finn knew what he was asking. "No, but..." He broke off, but not before Alric saw the grim certainty on his face. "'Twould be best if you rode at top speed on your way back to Kray." Alric nodded and turned back to Gareth, who'd been watching the exchange with a guarded expression. "We must hurry." "Let's see about hastening the process, shall we?" To Finn, Gareth gave one curt bob of his head. "Until we meet again." Rather than acknowledge the remark, Finn walked past Gareth, paused to whisper something into his ear, and then strode back toward the great hall. Under normal circumstances, Alric would have insisted Gareth tell him what Finn had said, but not today. Right now his only thought was to get to Declan, to will his father to live. If The Creator proved merciful, Alric would succeed. **** 146

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The journey from Hume to Kray took four days instead of the usual six, but with the crazed pace Alric set, Gareth wasn't surprised. While Gareth understood Alric's need to reach his father, he was worried about Alric's single-minded determination to see that Declan live. If Balthazar proved no match for Declan's illness, Gareth feared Alric would break under his father's loss. Though he never thought to rejoice at the sight of Kray's gates, Gareth heaved a hearty sigh of relief on the evening of the fourth day as Castle Kray loomed proud in the light of the setting sun. Alric rode straight into the lower bailey. Gareth rode by his husband's side, half-expecting to see Balthazar waiting for them in the courtyard. The last person Gareth expected to see was Tristam, pacing like a madman. "What in all of Orielle took you so long?" Tristam cracked his knuckles in a gesture Gareth recognized as nervous agitation. "The watch commander spotted you near an hour ago." "Hello to you, too, Tristam." Gareth dismounted, then handed Merrick off to a stable hand. "'Tis a pleasure to see you, as well." "I've not the time for pleasant exchanges," Tristam said. "I come with news." Alric rode up behind them. "My father? Is he worse?" Tristam shook his head. "To my knowledge, his condition hasn't changed since we arrived here last evening." Gareth raised his brows. "We?" 147

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"Maris is with me. In light of all I've learned, I dared not leave her behind." That got Gareth's attention. "What's happened? Is it Denmar? Another attack?" Before Tristam could answer, Alric swung from his horse and said, "Pardon my rudeness, King Tristam, but I'll have to hear of this and greet your lady wife later. I must see to my father." "I understand." Tristam paused. "Father Arden is up there now, assisting young Balthazar." Gareth watched as all the color drained from Alric's face. "The priest is with him?" "Only to offer comfort, I believe." Tristam's reassurance came quick. "As far as I know, he hasn't administered the passage rites." "There will be no need for Arden to say the rites: my father is going to live." Alric nodded to Tristam and Gareth both. "If you'll excuse me." Gareth grabbed Alric's arm as he turned to leave. "I'll join you upstairs as soon as I've spoken to Tristam. And I'll have one of the servants send up a hot meal for you." "I'm not hungry. I—" Gareth cut him off. "You've eaten next to nothing for days, Alric. You'll be of no use to Declan if you're swooning from hunger." At first Gareth thought Alric was going to argue, but in the end he muttered a hasty, "All right," before quitting the courtyard at top speed. Gareth watched him go with a sense 148

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of impending dread. If Balthazar had called for the priest, Declan's chances of survival couldn't be good. Tristam broke into his thoughts. "Since when are you so concerned about your husband's welfare? Dare I to hope your feelings towards the young prince have changed?" Gareth scrubbed his hand across the heavy stubble marking his face. "I'm in no mood to discuss my relationship with Alric. Not now, at any rate." He started towards the keep. "Besides, if this news you bear is dire enough to make you drag your wife all the way to Kray, I have a feeling 'tis too important to wait." Tristam fell into step beside him. "You're right about the matter's importance." He stopped at the door to the side hall of the castle. "Before I tell you the main reason for my visit, however, you should know the soldiers I sent with you to Hume returned to Drystan with some rather startling tales about your husband." Gareth sighed. "They weren't supposed to return to Drystan at all, much less tell you of Alric's gift." "Gift? Is that what you call it?" Tristam shook his head. "My men certainly didn't see it that way. All I got from them were wild stories about a demon prince who shoots fire from his fingertips." Gareth paused in the act of opening the door, letting the heavy oak fixture slam shut with a caustic shriek. "Alric is no demon, and any man who says so will answer to me." Tristam surprised Gareth by bursting into a wide grin. "So it's like that, is it?" "Tristam—" 149

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"I know, I know. You've no wish to discuss your relationship with your husband." Another of those damned grins. "For some things, words aren't necessary, brother. My eyes tell me all I need to know." He clapped Gareth on the back. "Go to your chambers and get cleaned up so you can give my wife a proper greeting. I'll deliver my news after that, and then you can tend to your Alric. I've a feeling he's going to need you." Tristam's smile slid away. "I spoke to the healer just before you got here, and I have to tell you that Declan's outlook is grim at best." Gareth didn't want to waste time on something as trivial as bathing, but he knew he needed a few moments to himself, time to gather his wits for the battle to come. If Declan was dying, Gareth was determined to be there for Alric, to lend him his strength. Whether or not Alric would welcome his help was another matter entirely. **** Alric had long ago accustomed himself to the smell of sickness and decay that floated around his father like a veil. Declan had been ill for so long, Alric hardly noticed the odor most days. Now, though, as he pushed open the door to his father's chamber, he was forced to acknowledge a new scent in the air, one he remembered from his mother's last feverish hours: the menacing fragrance of death. Declan lay still as a stone save for the racking shudders that braced his body every time his wraith-thin form drew a breath. Father Arden, who'd been dozing in a chair by Declan's bedside, lifted his snow white head as Alric pushed 150

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his way into the room. Starting to rise, Arden gave a midbody bow and said, "Greetings, my prince." "Please, sit back down, Father. How long have you been here, anyhow?" "A day? Two, mayhap?" The old priest shrugged. "When you get to be my age, the days have a way of rolling together." Alric swallowed the lump in his throat as he took the chair on the side of the bed opposite Arden. He stared down at his father's ashen face. "'Tis good of you to stay with him. I'm certain my father will thank you once he awakens." Arden's bushy brows came together. "My prince, have you spoken to the healer about your father's condition?" Alric shook his head. "I haven't seen Balthazar since my return to the keep." Arden rose. "I'll just be fetching him for you, then." Alric barely heard the man. He focused all his attention on Declan, silently willing his father to open his eyes and speak to him. His concentration was such, he didn't notice as Arden slid from the room. Sometime after—whether moments or hours had passed, he couldn't say—Alric felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see Gareth standing behind him. "I thought you were having a conference with Tristam." "I will, in time." Gareth smoothed the fingers of his free hand over his freshly shaven cheek. "Tristam thought perhaps I was in need of a good cleaning before giving Maris a proper greeting." He gave Alric a gentle squeeze. "Can I get you anything before I go downstairs?" 151

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"No, thank you. The priest left to fetch Balthazar. I'm waiting for him to update me on my father's progress." Gareth didn't have the chance to comment. Balthazar came skidding into the room, falling to his knees at first sight of Alric and Gareth. "Forgive me for not being here when you arrived." He greeted them both before rising to his feet. "I was just beyond the castle, gathering some dusk blooming herbs." Alric took hope from that. "Something to aid my father's healing?" "Something to make him more comfortable, but—" Balthazar took a deep breath before continuing. "I'm afraid seeing to your father's comfort is all I can do for him now, Prince Alric. His Majesty's sickness is beyond my ability to heal." Alric shook his head. "I don't believe that. I've witnessed the miracles at your command. If anyone can heal my father, 'tis you." Balthazar's voice was thick with sorrow. "My prince, I wish it were so. The plain truth of it is the king is beyond help. His body is poisoning itself, and there's nothing I—or anyone else—can do to stop it." When Alric opened his mouth to argue again, Balthazar asked a question that stopped his protest. "Do you remember a time when your father was prone to strong drink?" Alric closed his eyes. Indeed, he did. Dark days just after his mother's death, when Declan's only solace seemed to be found at the bottom of an ale jug. But those days were long gone. 152

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Alric opened his eyes and focused them on the healer. "My father hasn't overindulged in nigh on three years." "So the servants told me, but there's something you have to understand." Balthazar paused as if searching for the right words. "Sometimes, when a man has long periods of nothing but drink, his innards become diseased. Even if that man gives up the grape and sticks to a course of drinking nothing save pure water, the body remains weakened and unable to heal itself. I believe in King Declan's case, the strain of your mother's loss and months of drinking nothing but hard spirits have taken their toll." Balthazar lowered his voice. "I'm sorry, Prince Alric, but I'm afraid there's nothing I can do to spare your father's life." Alric felt as if he were falling, the black pit he'd been exiled to during and after his time with Denmar threatening to pull him back in. "How long?" Balthazar glanced at the bed, not having to ask Alric's meaning. "A few days. Weeks, perhaps. 'Tis hard to say. When I arrived at Kray, the king had already lapsed into a wake-less sleep. 'Tis usually a sign the body is ready to quit its fight." Balthazar turned back to Alric, his eyes wide and searching. "I swear to you, I did everything in my power for him, but if you wish to punish me, I understand." Even with the blackness of his own despair creeping forward, Alric felt for Balthazar, a boy who'd lost his own father and now feared for his life. Placing his hand on the healer's arm, Alric said, "You've nothing to fear from me, Balthazar. You did all I asked of you and more. If 'tis truly my 153

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father's time, I'm grateful you were here to make his remaining days less painful." Alric could see the relief crossing Balthazar's features. The boy straightened and said, "To that end, I gathered some night blooming herka flowers. When crushed, the scent of the blossoms seems to comfort even the most restless of patients. If you'll excuse me, I'll go to the antechamber and prepare them now." "Thank you, Balthazar." Gareth spoke for the first time since Balthazar entered. "Alric and I are grateful for all you've done on Declan's behalf." The healer bowed and made his exit. As soon as he was gone, Gareth knelt in front of Alric's chair and reached for his hand. "I'm sorry, Alric. I thought sure there was something Balthazar could do for your father." So had Alric, but he chided himself for foolishly hoping. Hadn't he learned that of all the people fate smiled upon, he wasn't included? Instead of voicing the sentiment to Gareth, Alric simply said, "I suppose there's nothing to do now but wait." Gareth reached for his hand. "I'll stay with you." "No." Alric pulled away from Gareth's warm fingers. "King Tristam is waiting for you. There's nothing you can do here, anyway." Gareth didn't budge. "Tristam will understand that my place is with you. 'Twill be time enough for what he has to tell me later." Gareth's compassion was the one thing Alric could least tolerate. Not now. Hardening his jaw and hoping his meaning 154

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would be made clear, he said, "I need to be alone with my father, Gareth. I don't want you here." Alric felt a stab of guilt at the hurt which flickered in his husband's eyes, but Gareth quickly blinked it away. "I understand." He rose to his feet. "You're tired and in need of a quiet moment to deal with all Balthazar has told you." He walked to the door but stopped just short of opening it. Turning back to Alric, he said, "I'll go downstairs to speak with Tristam, but rest assured, I'll be back. You're not alone in this, Alric. 'Tis a fact you may as well get used to." Before Alric could reply, Gareth was gone. Long after Gareth left, his words rang in Alric's head. You're not alone in this. Pretty words, words of hope and comfort. Unfortunately, Alric knew the truth. His new relationship with Gareth was based on nothing save pity and had been since the moment Gareth laid eyes upon Alric's scars. Even that kiss they'd shared in the forests of Hume was nothing more than an attempt on Gareth's part to make the best of this marriage they'd been forced into. For a brief moment, Alric had allowed himself to hope he and Gareth could have something more, something deeper than a contract between two kingdoms. For the second time in a matter of minutes, Alric chided himself for being such a foolish dreamer. Declan's impending demise meant not only the death of his beloved parent, but the death of any childish fantasy he'd harbored for a normal life. Declan would die, Gareth would leave, and Alric would once again be at the mercy of the cruel and painful destiny of exile he was powerless to stop. 155

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**** Alric's rejection was still stinging as Gareth made his way to the stairs. He knew Alric was in pain—reeling over Balthazar's pronouncement—but damned if it didn't hurt to be pushed away. Even so, he hoped Alric had gleaned the true meaning of what he'd said. There was no way Gareth was going to allow Alric to suffer the loss of his father alone. Alric might as well accustom himself to that fact. Bertrand interrupted his thoughts as Gareth was edging his way down. "Prince Gareth, how good it is to have you and Prince Alric home." "Thank you, Bertrand." "I only wish 'twas under different circumstances." Bertrand dabbed at his eyes with the corner of his robe. "'Tis such a shame about the king. A better man than Declan of Kray you'd be hard pressed to find." Gareth only nodded, which seemed to be answer enough for Bertrand. Gareth was just about to bid the man farewell when Bertrand said, "'Tis good King Tristam is here to support you both. I'm on my way to see that the servants have properly prepared the guest chambers, but..." He lowered his voice. "Word has it King Tristam comes bearing news. Might I inquire as to the nature of his visit?" "You might, except I have no inkling as to why he's here, myself." Gareth crossed his arms over his chest and studied the smaller man. "Is there a reason why you ask about the king's business?" 156

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"No reason save one. If, Creator forbid," Bertrand wove a three-prong protective circle over his heart with his fingers, "King Declan should die, you and Prince Alric will be joint rulers of Kray. I was only wondering if King Tristam had heard the news of Declan's impending death and come to see you properly ensconced on the throne." Knowing what it would do to Alric, Gareth didn't even want to think about what would happen if Declan should die. Nor did he have any desire to rule Kray. Rather than say so to Bertrand, however, Gareth put him off with, "We'll deal with that when the time comes. Now, I have business to attend. If you'd be so kind as to instruct Cook to send a trencher of food up to Declan's room for Alric, I'll be in your debt." Bertrand bowed. "Yes, my prince." Shrugging Bertrand's questions off as nothing more than pure curiosity, Gareth strode downstairs. As he descended the last step leading into the great hall, he was attacked by a tiny, green-eyed hellion. With a strength belying her slight frame and modest height, Maris hugged him to her in a tight embrace. "Tristam and I were so worried when we heard you'd been attacked." She squeezed him hard. "And those awful lies Drystan's own soldiers were spreading against Prince Alric..." She leaned back to look up at him, her honey-blonde curls dancing around her shoulders. "Rest assured, Tristam dealt with the blackguards in swift fashion." Gareth couldn't help but smile down at his blood-thirsty imp of a sister-in-law. Rather than enlighten her on the near truth of the soldiers' tales, he hugged her again, grateful to 157

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have someone on which to lavish his affections. "Maris, 'tis good to see you, too." He stepped back and held her at arms length, studying the picture she made in a silk kirtle the same color as her eyes. "If I didn't know better, I'd say there was something different about you. You've a glow that wasn't there before." Maris preened under his observations. "As a matter of fact, there is something different about me. You may as well congratulate me, Gareth. I'm going to be a mother." Gareth was stunned beyond speech. His eyes fell at once to her stomach. "You and Tristam are expecting?" "Yes, but not in the way you mean. One of my ladies in waiting is with child." Maris made a face. "'Tis sad to say she doesn't want the babe, but Tristam and I ... well, you know how long we've waited for a child." Gareth was thrilled to the marrow for Maris and Tristam both, but he was surprised by Maris's change of heart. She must have guessed the direction of his thoughts for she said, "When Tristam first suggested we take the babe, I had my doubts, but once he told me that you and Alric had your hearts set on starting your own family, I began to wonder. Who am I to deny my husband and myself the same happiness? I ache to be a mother, and if you and Alric refuse to let a little thing like fate keep you from having a family, why then, should I?" Gareth slanted a glance at Tristam, who was sitting at the table deeply engrossed in his wine. "Why, indeed?" Silently vowing to have a private word with his brother-in-law later, 158

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Gareth held out his arm to Maris. "May I escort you back to the table, my queen?" Maris shook her head. "I believe I'll retire for the night. I've a feeling you and Tristam have a long talk ahead of you, and that calls for privacy. Besides, the sooner the two of you get this situation under control, the sooner Tristam and I can return to Drystan. I absolutely must be home before the babe arrives, for I want mine to be the first face he sees." She leaned up on her toes and kissed Gareth's cheek. "Good night, brother." Turning to blow Tristam a kiss, she said, "You, I'll see upstairs in a bit." Tristam gave her a lovesick smile. Once Maris was out of sight, Gareth sat down at the table across from Tristam. "So Alric and I are anxious to start a family, are we?" "Worked, did it not?" Tristam wasn't the least contrite over his lie. "Maris and I are going to have the child we've always longed for, and unless I miss my guess, you and Alric are beginning to develop feelings for one another. That makes my story not quite such a lie, after all." Gareth thought of Alric's cool dismissal of him with a grimace before forcing the thoughts away. The sooner he heard what Tristam had to say, the sooner he could get back to Alric. "You said you come bearing news. I'll hear it now if 'tis all the same to you." Tristam nodded. "I'll tell you, though I vow you'll be as dumbfounded by the news as I. Gareth ... Holden of Stiles is dead." Gareth could scarcely believe what he was hearing. "How?" "Holden fell from a horse, or so I was lead to believe." 159

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For all his faults, Holden was a superior horseman. Gareth shook his head. "Holden was too skilled to simply fall from his mount." Tristam shrugged. "It happens." "Maybe, but I'd wager all I own that Denmar had a hand in Holden's death," Gareth said. "The question remains, why? With Holden dead, so dies Denmar's alliance with the house of Stiles." "Ah, but Denmar knows an alliance with Stiles wouldn't make him half as powerful as a marriage bond with the kingdom of Vale." At the mention of his late father's kingdom, Gareth's entire body went rigid. He knew Nadar bore him no love, but he couldn't believe his own brother would willingly bind himself to Gareth's mortal enemy "Are you saying Denmar has formed some sort of unholy alliance with my brother?" "I'm afraid so." Tristam's face was grim. "According to my spies, Nadar has agreed to a marriage between Denmar and one of your sisters. Stiles, of course, was incensed that Denmar would pledge his troth to another before Holden's body was even cold, but there was nothing he could do about it. There's no law regarding a fiancé's period of mourning." "Which of my sisters is Denmar claiming?" Gareth's voice was little more than a harsh rasp in the quiet of the hall. "Sonya, I believe." Tristam's words were soft and filled with pity. Gareth closed his eyes. Sonya. The baby. Gareth was several years older than she, but he remembered her as a lively child, always free with her smiles and laughter. Gareth 160

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bit the inside of his cheek until his mouth flooded with the raw taste of blood. He'd kill Denmar with his bare hands before he'd allow him to hurt Sonya as he'd hurt Alric and Kiel. "We have to stop this marriage, Tristam. I'll die before I let Denmar get my sister in his clutches." "I agree the man's a monster, but there's nothing we can do to stop the union." Tristam threw up his hands in defeat. "Nadar has already made his bargain." "Tristam ... there's something you don't understand. Something about Alric." Taking a deep breath for strength, Gareth spent the next half-hour recounting the truth about his husband. He spared no detail, recounting both the evil bargain Denmar had struck with Adela and the torture Denmar had visited upon Alric. Gareth ended his tale with the attack by Winthrop's men, leaving Tristam no doubt as to the extent of Alric's powers. "No wonder Denmar wants Alric back." Tristam set his jaw. "Hearing this makes me more certain of Denmar's plans than ever. The blackguard will use his alliance with Vale to wage war against the combined forces of Kray and Drystan, hoping to fell us both and once again gain control of Alric." He sighed. "In light of what you've told me about King Winthrop's hatred towards Kray, he'll no doubt join his forces to the cause. Even with Hume's armies backing us, we could find ourselves hard pressed to win." "The Creator be my witness, I will stop that marriage from happening, my brother be damned." Gareth slammed his fist 161

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against the table. "This isn't just about war, Tristam. This is about my sister's very life." Tristam stayed silent for a moment, then said, "You're older than Nadar, are you not?" "By a couple of years, but what has that—" Gareth broke off, following Tristam's line of thought. "It doesn't matter that I'm Nadar's elder. He is Jarric's legitimate heir, while I am only the son of Jarric's mistress. Not even the High Council and King Elwin can go against the rules of our birth." "Not so far as inheritance goes, maybe, but there's nothing to stop Elwin from entertaining a petition on your behalf. As Sonya's eldest brother, you have a right to express your dissatisfaction with her marriage contract." "But Nadar is still her king. He is also her full-blood brother, while Sonya and I share a bond only through our father's line." "It doesn't matter," Tristam said. "When Jarric left you Lachlan upon his death, he left it to you as his son, meaning he recognized you as one of his heirs. Regardless of the particulars of your birth, Jarric claimed you. The High Council has no choice but to recognize you as a member of Vale's royal family. As the eldest child, your objections carry substantial weight." Gareth was afraid to hope, but there was a certain merit to Tristam's plan. Even if the High Council denied his motion to break the betrothal between Denmar and Sonya, it might give him time to think up an alternate scheme. "When are the banns to be read?" 162

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"Three months. Denmar's only concession to Holden's death was to wait a full twelve weeks to announce his marriage to Sonya." Tristam smiled. "'Tis only a three week journey from Kray to Banning if one travels north-east through the Zanderwald Plains. I'm certain we can find a messenger competent to make the trek. One of my own soldiers springs to mind." "I'll draft the missive myself and we'll send him out at first light." Gareth paused. "We also need to send a messenger to Stiles." "Surely you don't mean to offer your condolences over Holden's death? Not after the way he and his father both disdained you." Tristam sounded appalled at the thought. "Quite the contrary." Gareth supposed he should feel sorry to hear of Holden's demise—considering he'd almost married the man—but a mild regret that Holden died so young was all Gareth could manage. "I'm going to spin for King Stiles a little story. It involves Denmar and his penchant for murdering anyone who gets in his way." "You plan to tell Stiles what Denmar did to Kiel." It wasn't a question. "Yes." Reliving Kiel's death—even on paper—was a pain Gareth would like nothing better than to avoid, but Stiles had to know the full truth. "With any luck, Stiles will prove smart enough to know Denmar capable of killing Holden same as he killed Kiel. And if I can prove to Stiles that Denmar wanted Holden out of the way so he could marry Sonya..." "Then perhaps Stiles would be willing to ally himself with our forces." Tristam sounded delighted by the prospect. "As 163

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far as I'm concerned, the messengers can't travel fast enough." "There's a good chance that all our efforts will be for naught, but we've nothing to lose by pleading our case." Gareth stood. "I'll see to it at once. After that, I'm going to join Alric at Declan's bedside." "No doubt he needs your support." Gareth nodded. Alric did need his support, and whether he liked it or not, Gareth was going to be with him every step of the way. **** Sweat dripped into Gareth's eyes despite the bracing chill in the air as he blocked Wycaster's thrust and struck the captain's sword with a forward blow of his own. Again and again Gareth put the man through his paces until Wycaster held up his hands and pleaded for a reprieve. "Please, my prince, a moment's rest. I beg you." Wycaster removed his helm and propped himself against the side of the arsenal shed, the sun dappling his sweat-soaked hair with dancing red lights. "I swear I haven't trained this hard since I was a green lad new to King Declan's army." Gareth knew he'd been hard on the man, but Wycaster was the only one of Kray's soldiers who evenly matched Gareth's skill with a sword. Gareth had found himself in desperate need of a release from the worry and frustration churning inside him over the past six weeks. Six weeks. Gareth re-sheathed his sword with a grimace. Had it only been a month and a half since their return to 164

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Kray? To Gareth, it seemed so much longer. One endless, lonely day rolling into the next. Tristam and Maris did their best to be company enough, but it was Alric whom Gareth missed. The time they'd had together at Hume—the long walks, the rambling conversations—had given Gareth a glimpse of what life with Alric could be like. He wanted more—much more— especially since the taste of Alric still burned on his lips. The brief kiss they'd shared wasn't near enough to assuage Gareth's newly kindled longing. Wycaster pushed himself away from the wall and rounded on the water bucket hanging from the back side of the shed. After taking a hearty gulp, he refilled the ladle and offered it to Gareth. The frigid water was a boon to Gareth's parched throat, and he drank deeply before handing it back to Wycaster with much appreciation. "Thank you, though after the savage exercise I put you through, I wouldn't blame you if you'd served me a decent helping of horse piss, instead." Wycaster grinned. "I admit the thought crossed my mind, but I understand why you're pushing yourself." His smile faded. "Prince Alric still refuses to leave the king's side?" "The only time he leaves that blasted sickroom is to see to his private needs, and then 'tis never for more than a few moments." Gareth sighed. "Alric even bathes in the antechamber of Declan's rooms for fear his father will take a turn while he's gone." The worst part for Gareth, though, was Alric's refusal to talk to him. In spite of his boast to stand by his husband's 165

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side no matter what, Gareth was rendered powerless by Alric's stoic silence. A vast chasm lay between the two of them, and there wasn't a damn thing Gareth could do to breach the gap. At a loss for words, Wycaster changed the subject. "I've sent huntsmen out after the men who abandoned you and Prince Alric the day Winthrop attacked. King Tristam tells me he dealt with Drystan's deserters, but I'm still trying to find the varlets from Kray." "'Twill not matter if you do. Alric will never allow us to exact vengeance on his behalf." A fact Gareth couldn't reconcile himself to. "He'd be furious if he knew Tristam executed the men from Drystan." Wycaster shook his head. "You misunderstand me, my lord. 'Tis not vengeance I seek, but answers." Gareth crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm afraid I don't follow you." Wycaster stood in silence for a moment, as if taking Gareth's measure. Finally, he said, "How much do you know of King Declan's second marriage?" "Enough to know Adela was a cold-hearted bitch." Wycaster nodded. "On that, you and I are in perfect agreement. I'm assuming you know, then, how Adela tried to poison the king." "Tried and failed." "The Creator be praised for that, but I'm wondering how Queen Adela managed to slip from the keep and purchase poison from that old crone without one of the guards seeing her." 166

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Gareth got Wycaster's meaning. "You're thinking Adela had help from someone inside the keep." "Yes, and the duplicity doesn't stop there. Denmar and his allies always seem to be one step ahead of us." Wycaster cast the ladle back into the water bucket with more force than necessary. "Haven't you wondered how Winthrop's men knew where to find you that day? No one knew the wedding ceremony had been pushed forward save for those inside the castle. By all outside accounts, you and the prince should have had days yet to stay here before setting out for Hume." Gareth had asked himself the same questions more times than he could count, but he knew he wouldn't find the answers among the wayward soldiers. For all their guttwisting cowardice, those men had been just as caught up in Winthrop's maelstrom as Gareth and Alric. "You may as well call your huntsmen home." Wycaster blinked as the mid-day sun once again peered from behind a cloud. "You think I'm wrong, then?" Gareth shook his head. "I'm certain there's indeed a traitor in our midst. May The Creator have mercy on him when I roust the scoundrel out, but I doubt those soldiers know any more about it than you or I." Wycaster was just about to comment when a commotion sounded from the other end of the training yard. Gareth turned to see Maris coming towards them at a full run. She stopped at Gareth's side, one small hand grasping his arm to steady herself, the other braced over her racing heart. "Tristam bade ... me ... fetch you." 167

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Gareth put his hands on her shoulders, holding her up for fear she'd collapse. "Calm yourself, Maris. Where's Tristam?" "Upstairs with Balthazar. King Declan ... he..." Maris's eyes shone with regret. "He's taken a turn." **** Bertrand dabbed tears from his eyes as Father Arden administered the passage rites, but Alric watched in silence, detached from the spectacle by the sure belief that none of this was really happening. He couldn't lose his father. Fate wouldn't be so cruel, even to a cursed beast such as himself. The priest's fingers wove the required patterns over Declan's laboring chest. "May The Creator guide and keep you as you travel to the highest realms of Ascenscia, oh great and noble king." As if by design, Declan's breathing began to slow. Alric's heart caught in his throat, certain his father was as good as gone. At the last possible second, Declan's cloudy eyes opened and focused on Alric's face. Alric took a step forward only to watch as Declan's eyes once again closed and his breathing stopped all together. With no more ceremony than that, Alric's father was dead. Balthazar stepped from his place in the corner and pulled the linen sheet over Declan's body. Kneeling beside the bed, he paid his final respects before rising and leaving the chamber. Tristam, who'd been sitting off to the side, rose and gave Declan a similar showing before turning back to Alric. "My 168

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deepest sympathies, Alric. Please know that, should you need anything, I am at your disposal." It was a generous offer coming for a king of Tristam's rank, but Alric could do little more than nod. As Tristam left, Bertrand approached from Alric's left. "Majesty, if 'tis all right by you, I'll see to your father's arrangements. I'll also send a messenger to Hume so your dear sister can learn of her father's passing." Majesty. Hearing himself called by Declan's title was such a jest, Alric almost laughed. He was no king, just a little boy playing dress-up with his father's boots. Rather than voice the sentiment, Alric simply looked at Bertrand and said, "As you wish." Father Arden came around the death bed to follow Bertrand out. "I'll help you organize Declan's ceremony, Bertrand. 'Tis the least I can do to honor our good King's memory." Bertrand murmured his agreement, but Alric paid him no heed. For one stark moment, he was alone. The solitude didn't last. The door burst open and Gareth was at his side. "I got up here as fast as I could. Maris tells me Declan has taken—" Gareth broke off as he caught sight of the shrouded form on the bed. "I arrived too late." For all his sudden exhaustion, Alric managed a slight shrug. "There's nothing you could have done." "I could have been here when it happened." Gareth's voice took on a tender quality. "I could have held your hand." Adding truth to his words, he reached for Alric. 169

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Alric jumped back as if scalded. Gareth's compassion was too much to take on the heels of Declan's loss. "What are you playing at?" The outburst took Gareth by surprise. "I don't know what you mean." "Don't you?" Alric made a move to walk past him, but Gareth put out his arm, blocking Alric's exit. "Let me pass." "No." Gareth used no force, but his intentions were clear. "I won't let you by until you explain yourself." He narrowed his eyes. "Just what type of game are you accusing me of playing?" "Come now, Gareth. Do you really think me that much a fool? You've been different towards me since the moment you saw my scars. Don't you think I recognize pity when I see it?" "I'm sure you do, but Alric..." Gareth faltered, searching for the words. "'Tis not pity I feel for you." When Alric's snort revealed his disbelief, Gareth took a deep breath. "I admit I was saddened when first I saw your scars, but how did you expect me to feel? I'm your husband. Your welfare is to be my primary concern." "A husband in name only, a situation easily remedied now that my father is gone." Gareth went still. "What are you saying?" Alric swallowed, then gave voice to the thoughts plaguing him since his return to Kray. "We both know the only reason you went through with the marriage was because my father threatened war." He pointed one finger in the direction of Declan's deathbed. "Now that his threats no longer bear 170

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weight, there's nothing holding you here." Alric locked eyes with Gareth. "Tomorrow I will lay my father to rest. As soon as the last ember fades from his pyre, I'll send a messenger to Banning with a petition for annulment."

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Chapter Nine On a half-frozen hillside just beyond the gates of Kray, a small contingent of mourners huddled against the cold and listened as Father Arden pleaded with The Creator to speed Declan on his way. Tristam and Maris stood on either side of Gareth to offer their support, but it was Alric who held Gareth's attention. Alric, who was standing all alone on the other side of Declan's pyre. Alric, who may as well have been an ocean away. Father Arden lifted up his final prayer. "May The Creator of All take Declan into his arms and lead him through The Gates of Ascenscia to sit by His side." Finishing the prayer with a solemn chant, Arden turned to the fire pit blazing a scant ten feet to the back side of Declan's pyre. Grasping a burning branch by its still-cool end, Arden hefted it from the pit and passed the flaming torch to Alric. "Now may the flesh of Declan's flesh and the bone of his bone hasten him on his journey to the next life." Instead of carrying the branch straight to the pyre, Alric held it in front of his face for a moment, studying the flame as it licked the dry wood. Gareth wondered if Alric felt a kinship to the fire, if he saw himself in its orange depths. Whatever the case, Alric's musings didn't last long. Swinging the branch to his side, he stepped up to the pyre, touching the fiery bough to the oil doused wood at the base of the platform. The thing ignited in one sweep. Without looking back, Alric released the branch, turned, and headed for the castle. 172

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Gareth started to go after him, but Tristam stayed him with a hand to the arm. "Not yet," he whispered, motioning toward the gathered assembly with a jerk of his head. "At least one member of Kray's royal household has to stay until Declan's body is consumed by the fire. With Alric gone, that leaves you." Gareth didn't like it, but he had no choice save bowing to propriety. How long they stood there waiting, Gareth couldn't say, but it seemed an eternity before Father Arden pronounced the deed done. "And now, by the cleansing of the flame, may King Declan's soul find release. All hail The Creator." "All hail The Creator." As one, the mourners repeated the benediction. Just like that, the ceremony was over. Maris hugged Gareth before turning to her husband. "If 'tis all right with you, I'll walk on ahead with Bertrand and make arrangements for Alric's coronation feast this night." Tristam pulled Maris close and pressed a kiss to her pink cheek. "Thank you, love. 'Twould be most kind of you to do so." Maris hurried ahead to speak with Bertrand while Gareth and Tristam hung back on the narrow path leading to the castle. "You realize tonight will mark your coronation, as well." Tristam spoke softly, but there was a world of meaning in his statement. Gareth shook his head, the hood of his cloak slipping free. "A coronation in name only." His next words came out as 173

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stark and cold as the wind whipping around them. "He's leaving me, Tristam." "Leaving you?" Tristam looked as soul-shocked as Gareth felt. "What nonsense is this?" "Yesterday, Alric made his intentions clear. He's seeking an annulment whether I like it or not." "When did he tell you this? Just after Declan breathed his last?" Gareth only nodded. Tristam visibly relaxed. "For pity's sake, Gareth, 'twas only Alric's grief talking. He'll come around. Besides, he has no grounds for annulment." Gareth started to speak, but Tristam wouldn't let him. "Think about it for a moment. Declan persuaded the High Council to annul Alric's marriage to Denmar only because Denmar entered the union under false pretenses and misused Alric for the duration of the relationship. Alric has no grounds to dissolve his marriage with you." When Gareth didn't readily agree, Tristam faltered. "Please tell me your marriage has been consummated." Because Gareth couldn't comply with the request, he chose to remain silent, giving Tristam all the answer he needed. "Have you any idea what this means?" Tristam's panic was evident. "If we lose our alliance with Kray and Denmar is allowed to marry into the House of Vale, 'twill be the end of us all. Drystan will never survive such a war and neither will you." The anger Gareth had been struggling to tamp down rose to the fore. "I couldn't give a bloody damn about that right 174

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now. Can't you see how Alric suffers? He's in pain, and there's nothing I can do about it." Tristam's demeanor changed. "So you do care about him." Gareth turned away, unable to bear the deep concern he knew he'd find in Tristam's eyes. His eyes fell on Declan's smoldering pyre, which was even worse. Declan's demise marked a death of another sort. The death of any hope Gareth had for a life with Alric. Tristam clapped his hand on Gareth's shoulder. "The way I see it, you have two choices. Either let Alric go or find a way to make him stay." "How?" "Would that I knew, Gareth." Tristam sighed. "Would that I knew." **** Alric sat in the great hall, presiding over the high table and tolerating the farce of a coronation as best he could. Scores of lesser nobles and well wishers from the surrounding villages lined the room, all waiting to pay homage to the new king. Every spare surface groaned under the weight of giant platters filled with food, while a roasting pig crackled in the fireplace. Gareth was seated to the right of Alric, Tristam to the left. Gaily dressed servants darted in and around the crowd, filling mugs of ale and making certain no throat grew overly parched. Once assured all the celebrators had a tankard in hand, Tristam stood and raised his own cup. 175

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"Lords, ladies, and gentle folk, tonight I have the great honor of presenting to you your new king and his consort." He swept his hand wide to indicate Alric and Gareth. "Their majesties, Kings Alric and Gareth of Kray." Gareth rose from his seat, leaving Alric little choice but to do the same. As one, the crowd knelt, a silent swearing of fealty to the new regime. "Arise, good people, and enjoy the festivities your rulers have so graciously provided." Tristam held his cup high over his head. "Long may they reign." A cheer went through the hall, followed by a round of shouted blessings for the new heirs. From the balcony, a quartet of musicians began a raucous tune, driving those on the floor to dance. All in all, the celebration was a rousing success: loud, boisterous, and joyful. Alric felt ill. Though he knew it was custom to rejoice in the passing of a beloved ruler on his way to the glory lands, Alric couldn't do it. He wasn't about to eat, drink, and make merry while his father's ashes lay cooling on the hillside. Without bothering to excuse himself, he quit the hall. With no particular destination in mind, he found himself headed for the parapets. Climbing the steep ladder leading to the roof, Alric pushed open the wooden hatch and pulled himself up into the moon-shadowed night. The frigid air was thick with the coming winter, but it felt good after the heat of the hall fire. Alric embraced it. Taking a perch against the parapet wall, he could see the whole of his father's lands in all their night-speckled glory. His lands now. The weight of it pressed against his chest, making 176

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him feel weak and breathless. Alric was so lost in the mindboggling thoughts, he didn't realize he'd been followed until he heard the opening of the hatch. Without turning, he knew who it was. "Go away. I've a wish to be alone." "Seems to me you've been alone far too much lately." Gareth's tone was mild, but the implication was clear. He wasn't going anywhere. "I didn't ask for your opinion." Alric was in no mood for small talk. "You never do." The soft thud of Gareth's boots against the stone roof signaled his approach. He stopped just behind Alric. So close, had Alric turned, he knew he'd have found himself nose to nose with his husband. But Alric didn't turn. He stood still as a statue, facing straight ahead. "Tristam tells me I'm to do all in my power to save this marriage." Gareth's breath fanned the back of Alric's neck as he spoke. "I'm to keep you no matter the cost." "Fears a war, does he?" Alric snorted. "Well, no matter. You can assure Tristam that Kray will back him even after our marriage is dissolved." "You're assuming I intend to let you leave me." Alric tried to turn, then—ready to argue his point—but Gareth stopped the motion with a firm hand on each of Alric's shoulders. "You've had your say. 'Tis my turn now." Alric knew nothing Gareth had to say could sway him, but he remained quiet, listening in spite of himself. Gareth cleared his throat. 177

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"My mother, like yours, died of the fever. Only her death wasn't quick like the queen's. She lingered for months on the edge of death, improving just enough to give us hope before backsliding again into a fever-bound torment. When finally she passed, I wasn't certain whether to weep with relief or pound my chest in sorrow." Alric was surprised to hear the exact emotions he'd felt over his father's death spring from Gareth's lips. Before he could say so, Gareth continued. "Though it damn near broke me to let my mother go, at least I was there when she died. I was miles away, fighting on Tristam's behalf, when my father crossed over. 'Twas months before I learned of Jarric's passing, and though it hurt, I was comforted by the fact that he'd died in his sleep, as peaceful a death as any man can ask for." Gareth sighed. "I lost my parents when I was barely a man and foolishly thought I'd seen my fill of suffering and grief." He dropped his hands from Alric's shoulders and took a cleansing breath. "When Kiel died, I learned the true meaning of agony. 'Twas as if my soul was being ripped in two." "For months I went about in a daze, not caring whether I ate or slept. The only reason I didn't kill myself was because I knew Kiel wouldn't have approved. So, I endured. 'Twas a full year before I was finally able to sleep in the bed I'd shared with him again. The grief didn't fade, but it changed into something I could carry around with me, a noose I wore around my neck. It wasn't until I saw you that the knot loosened." 178

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Gareth's last statement got Alric's full attention. He turned to face Gareth down. "You hated the very sight of me, and well we both know it." "So I told myself." Gareth shrugged. "Call it a last defense of the life I'd shared with Kiel. Whatever the case, I'm honest enough with myself to admit my feelings for you were growing long before I gave you that kiss." Gareth stepped closer then, the heat of his body seeping into Alric's chilled skin. "You returned that kiss, Alric. Deny it all you will, but you wanted me every bit as much as I wanted you." He had, but desire wasn't enough to make a marriage. "None of that matters. Too much lies between us." "Only because you allow it." Gareth gripped Alric's arms. "Hide behind your reasoning—be a stubborn fool—but you won't escape me. If you need proof of that, here." Alric had no time to react as Gareth mashed his lips hard against Alric's own. Unlike the brief passion they'd shared at Hume, there was nothing gentle about this kiss. It was raw, possessive, and left Alric a quivering mess when Gareth at last pulled away. Gareth swiped his thumb over Alric's lips. "Think about that as you write your useless annulment petition." Without waiting for a response, he strolled back to the hatch, whistling as he went. **** Gareth came downstairs to break his fast, strangely hopeful that his talk with Alric had done some good. Leastwise, he prayed it had. He was running out of ideas. 179

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Grabbing a trencher of food from a passing servant, Gareth took the place next to Tristam at the table. Maris, on Tristam's other side, tilted her head to study Gareth as he tore a hunk from a loaf of brown bread. "You disappeared last night during the feast. You and Alric both." Tristam lifted a brow and was about to comment when Alric entered the hall. Gareth offered him a seat, but Alric shook his head. "I've no time. I'm riding into the hills to scatter my father's ashes today." Gareth took that as a good sign. It was the first time Alric had shown an interest in venturing from the castle grounds since he came home and found his father near death. "I'll go with you, then. Merrick's legs could use a good stretching." Alric was shaking his head before Gareth even finished. "I must do this alone." "You can't think to leave the keep unescorted." The very thought was obscene. "Of course not. Wycaster and a half dozen of his best men will guard me. No one would dare attack us this close to Kray land. Besides, the watchmen will see if an enemy approaches." Gareth bit back a sigh. So much for hoping he'd gotten through to Alric last night. He gave a curt nod. "So be it. Have a safe journey." Alric hesitated as if he were about to speak, but in the end he only returned Gareth's nod and left the hall. Gareth turned back to a concerned Maris and Tristam. "If you'll excuse me, I fear I've lost my appetite." 180

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"I understand," Tristam said. "If you need me, I am here." Tristam's sympathy was as hard to take as Alric's rejection. Gareth murmured an acknowledgment and headed for the training yard where he spent the next two hours sparring with any soldier brave enough to take him on. It wasn't until every last one of the exhausted men begged off that Gareth allowed himself a break. He was leaning against the arsenal shed, catching a much needed breath when the alarm sounded. Gareth's heart leapt into his throat as he raced from the gates. Tristam met him there. "Are we under attack?" His question was answered when the gates opened and a bruised and bloodied Wycaster staggered in. Gareth caught him just as he fell to the ground. He tried to be gentle as he stretched Wycaster full onto the dirt, but worry made his hands rough and shaky. "What happened to you? Where's Alric?" Wycaster struggled for breath as one of the men ran for water. "Ambushed ... at first hill. Too many ... to fight." Tristam knelt beside him. "Where are the men who rode out with you?" "Dead ... wounded. Not sure. Must get reinforcements ... save King Alric." "Save Alric from what?" Gareth clutched Wycaster's tunic in desperation, afraid the commander would black out before giving him what he needed. "Where is he?" "Captured." Wycaster coughed, the spasm racking his entire body. "By whom, Wycaster? Who has Alric?" 181

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"Your brother..." Wycaster's voice came out a harsh rasp. "Nadar of Vale."

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Chapter Ten Just as the men took an injured Wycaster up to Balthazar for tending, a lone horseman wearing Vale's colors approached the gates. He was unarmed and sported the felted red cap of a messenger. Gareth signaled the watchmen to let him through. The messenger, a lad of no more than sixteen summers, trembled slightly as he dropped from his horse and knelt at Gareth's feet. "Stand up, boy." Gareth's command came out a feral growl. "You've a message from your master?" "Yes, Sire." The boy stood and handed Gareth a square of parchment. Gareth tore through the seal, sending bits of wax flying. Scanning the missive, he nodded once and then tossed the paper to the ground. "Tell your king I agree to his terms. Now leave us. You have my word no one will follow you." The boy nodded and scrambled to his horse. Tristam picked the parchment up from the ground and swore a vicious curse as he read what Gareth had agreed to. "Are you insane? You must be if you think I'll allow you to go through with this." Gareth made a move to walk around him. "You can't stop me, Tristam." Tristam shot out a hand to block Gareth's exit, prompting Gareth to turn on him with savage fury. "Listen to me, Tristam, because I'll only say this once. Nadar has made his position clear. Either I ride out to meet him alone, or Alric 183

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dies. I know my brother, and if this is about that petition I sent to the High Council regarding Sonya's marriage, I've no doubt Nadar is angry enough to carry out his threat. You may be willing to gamble with Alric's life, but I'm not." "So you're going to trade your life for Alric's?" "If I have to." Tristam let out a ragged breath. "Is there a damned thing I can do to stop you?" "No." Just one word, but firm and final, nonetheless. "So be it. My men and I will ride with you as far as the border." "Tristam—" "Don't argue with me, Gareth. If you insist on riding off to your death, the least I can do is give you a proper sendoff." Gareth slanted his brows. "Swear you won't try to stop me." "I won't interfere, but I'll be close by if you need me." Tristam's argument was too sound for Gareth to defend against. With the utmost sincerity, he said, "Thank you, Tristam. I owe you a great debt." Tristam crossed his arms over his chest. "Here's hoping you live long enough to repay me." **** A quiet party set out for the hills bordering Kray, using the clear trail left by Nadar's messenger as a guide. Maris's protests still rang in Gareth's ears. She'd begged the both of them not to go, but not even her tears had swayed them. 184

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Gareth and Tristam rode in the lead with more than a hundred soldiers flanking and following them. Several times Tristam opened his mouth as if to speak and then closed it again before the words came out. Gareth thought that just as well. He was in no mood for conversation. The hill country was obscenely pretty given the circumstances under which Gareth was seeing it. Though no snows had yet fallen, the naked trees sparkled with a thin layer of early winter frost, making them look more like fine sculptures than works of natural creation. The pale afternoon sun peeked through the branches, casting haunting patterns on the short, brittle grass. Gareth made a mental note to show Alric the cool beauty of it all once he was safe. And he would be. Gareth would accept nothing less. As they neared the border, Gareth reined Merrick to a stop. "I see no sign of the wounded soldiers. Shouldn't we have encountered them by now?" Tristam stopped beside him. "I was wondering the same thing. Perhaps they doubled back to the castle." "Then why didn't we encounter them on the road? Granted, I'm not familiar with this territory. 'Tis possible there's an alternate route to Kray from here, but it makes no sense wounded men would favor a back way over a straight path." Tristam spat on the ground. "Another puzzle to add to our growing list of mysteries."

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"Whatever the case, we've reached the end of our journey together." Gareth's grip on Merrick's reigns tightened. "From here, I go alone." Tristam's response was a tight nod. "We'll be right here waiting for you to come back." Tristam looked Gareth dead in the eyes. "Both of you." Not certain what to say, Gareth mimicked the nod Tristam had given him and then urged Merrick into a fast walk. Without looking back, Gareth headed off to his fate. How long he rode alone, Gareth wasn't certain, but the sun was well into the western sky when he spotted Nadar's outriders cresting a rise straight ahead. The next he knew, twenty soldiers were coming toward him. All were heavily armed, but it was the man in the lead who caught his attention. Jeoffry, his father's former commander. Jeoffry's leathery face was wreathed in apology as he broke away from his men and met Gareth in the middle of the clearing. "Damn sorry about this, Gareth. I tried to talk sense into Nadar, but..." "You needn't explain Nadar's stubbornness to me. I know it all too well." Gareth hesitated. "My husband ... is he well?" Jeoffry sighed. "He's bound and guarded, but otherwise unharmed." He nudged his mount closer. "Much as I regret this, I must ask you to surrender your sword. I'll spare you the indignity of a full body search, but I know all too well what you can do with a blade." "You should." Gareth unstrapped his sheath. "You're the one who taught me to wield it." 186

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Jeoffry's faded eyes darkened. "Making this sorry state of affairs that much harder to take." He removed the offered sword from Gareth's hands and secured it across the back of his saddle. Sidling his horse to the left, he motioned for Gareth to ride forward. "Go in front of me. Nadar insisted I bind your hands behind you, but I'll not do it. You'll ride in un-tethered, and if Nadar doesn't like it, he can do his own dirty deeds next time." Gareth knew Jeoffry was giving him a precious advantage by allowing him to remain unbound. He only hoped he'd have a chance to make use of it. With little choice, Gareth rode into the crowd of waiting captors. **** Alric struggled against his bonds. The coarse rope bit into the flesh at his wrists and ankles as he worked to escape, but his efforts were in vain. The varlet who tied him had done too thorough a job, and the stiff material refused to yield no matter how hard Alric tried. He ceased his motions as footsteps sounded outside the tent. Though the soldiers on the other side of the thin fabric wall were talking in low whispers, Alric strained his ears, hoping to glean some hint of what they were planning. He wasn't disappointed. Straight away, he recognized the voice of the soldier who'd bound him. "Way I hear it, Lachlan's as good as dead." A voice Alric hadn't heard before said, "Surely King Nadar wouldn't kill his own brother." 187

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"The way those two hate each other? Course he will." He gave a bark of cruel laughter. "One of the scouts just told me Lachlan is on his way. You mark my words. He'll be dead within the hour." Alric's heart froze within his chest. He'd die before he let them harm Gareth. With frantic haste, he scrambled for a plan. He could think of only one way out, and at this point, he was desperate enough to take it. Betting Nadar's men were smart enough to know a dead hostage was of no use to them, Alric closed his eyes, reached deep down, and called forth the demon inside. It wasn't easy to summon the flame with his hands tied behind him, but Alric worked at it, fixing on the living fire residing in his chest. The sharp sting of smoke told him he'd been successful, as did the shouts of the men outside the tent. Alric opened his eyes to find the structure fully engulfed. A vicious curse accompanied the opening of the tent flap as a burly guard edged his way inside, but couldn't see past the smoke. "You in there! You all right?" Alric opened his mouth to speak but got a lungful of black vapor instead. He sputtered out, "Can't ... get ... free." Another curse, and then the soldier crawled into the burning tent. Feeling his way to the knife at his belt, the fellow freed the dagger and pressed it into Alric's hand. "Save yourself if you can." Without another word, he backed his way out of the tent. Blindly Alric sawed at the ropes. It took a long moment, but finally he cut his wrists free before next making quick 188

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work of the binding at his ankles. At last unbound, he grasped the knife in his hand but instead of taking the same path as the fleeing soldier, he crawled to the back of the tent. Slipping underneath the burning fabric and getting singed for his efforts, he made his way into the clean air. As he'd hoped, Nadar's men were busy at the front of the tent, trying to douse the flames with what little water they could find. With their attention thus diverted, Alric was able to slip away undetected. Allowing himself but a brief moment to catch his breath, he ran toward the base of the camp, certain that was where they'd take Gareth. He only prayed he wasn't too late. **** Jeoffry and his men led Gareth to a clearing in the center of the camp. As Gareth expected, Nadar was there waiting for him. As always, Gareth was struck by how much he and Nadar favored one another. Though Nadar was a touch leaner than Gareth, both were tall and well muscled. Nadar's fair hair was near blinding in the dying sunshine, and his deep-set, indigo eyes glistened with uncontained malice. "My men and I laid wagers as to whether or not you'd come." Surrounded by a gaggle of his men, he was uncharacteristically brave as he faced his brother down. "You gave me little choice, brother." Gareth kept his tone deceptively mild.

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Nadar thumbed his slightly crooked nose at Gareth's wording. "Brother or not, I'll see you dead for sabotaging me with the High Council." Gareth spread his arms wide. "Let my husband go and do your worst." Nadar's face paled when he registered Gareth's unencumbered hands. "Why isn't he bound as I ordered?" He whirled on Jeoffry. Beneath Nadar's anger, Gareth could see a trace of fear. Before Jeoffry could answer, a commotion erupted from the far end of the camp. Shouts of "Fire" echoed from the trees just as Gareth caught the first whiff of smoke. Pandemonium ensued. The brace of soldiers comprising Nadar's personal guard scrambled to answer the alert, giving Gareth the advantage he'd prayed for. Kicking Merrick into a full run, Gareth charged his brother, plucking Nadar from the ground and hoisting him onto Merrick's back in one swift motion. Nadar fought like a wild animal. He was strong, but he was no match for Gareth. Angling Nadar in front of him on the saddle, Gareth pushed his bulging forearm hard against Nadar's windpipe. Nadar tried to break the hold but all his efforts were for naught. "Where's Alric?" Gareth increased the pressure on Nadar's throat. "Tell me now or I'll kill you quick." "I'm here." A raw voice sounded from the tree line. Gareth went weak with relief when he caught sight of Alric riding into the clearing on a roan horse he must have stolen from one of the soldiers. Nadar used the distraction to begin 190

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his struggles anew and was putting up a fair fight when Alric reached Gareth's side. Pressing the knife he still held into Gareth's free hand, Alric turned to see the soldiers bearing down on them. With little effort, he conjured a blazing wall of flame around the three of them, creating a barrier the soldiers dared not cross. Some of them fell to their knees in terror while others made the sign of The Creator, begging protection. The horses spooked, but Gareth and Alric had them under control in little time. Nadar, startled by the blaze, winced as Gareth laid the sharp point of the blade against the prominent vein at the side of his neck. "One false move and I'll split you wide." Nadar swallowed. "What..." He licked his dry lips and tried again. "What will you do with me?" "Right now I'm going to use your worthless hide to bargain our way out of here." Without turning his head, Gareth asked Alric, "Are you well?" "Yes." Gareth wiggled the knife against Nadar's skin. "Tell your men to stay back if they value your life." "Stay away, all of you." Nadar's voice was a hoarse croak, but he made himself heard above the crackling of the fire. Gareth raised his voice to top volume and added his own command. "If a single one of you follows us from this camp, I swear your king will suffer for your foolishness not lightly." Through the wall of dying flame, he eyed the commander. "You know me, Jeoffry. 'Tis no idle threat." 191

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"Do as he says, all of you." Jeoffry's order rolled through the clearing. Reassured Nadar's men would obey, Gareth again spoke to Alric. "The grass here isn't dry enough to keep the fire burning for long. Already, it withers. When the last of the flames ebb, we'll start a hard ride out of this place." No sooner had he said it than the fire waned. Gareth kneed Merrick out at a fast clip with Alric right behind him. It was an arduous journey back to the border. Twice Nadar made a bid for freedom, but the knife and Gareth's sheer force of will kept him under control. Alric was silent, keeping a lookout behind them. When they were halfway to the border, the sound of thundering hooves signaled an approach from the opposite direction. Gareth tensed until he saw the Kray banner cresting the ridge. "I thought you were going to wait for us on Kray land." "I waited as long as I could stand it." Tristam rode straight to them, blanching when he saw the knife against Nadar's neck. "Throw him to the ground and let the soldiers deal with him, Gareth." "Relax, Tristam. If I haven't killed him yet, I'm probably not going to." Nevertheless, Gareth handed Nadar to three of Kray's men, perversely pleased to see his brother being trussed and bound like a celebration goose. Once Nadar was lying across the saddle of a vacant horse, Gareth said, "We'd best make haste. Though there aren't enough of them to best us, who knows when Nadar's men will 192

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decide to come after him. I've better things to deal with than the likes of them right now." All in agreement, the thundering hoard cut a trail for Kray. **** They made it back to Kray before nightfall. The gates closed behind them with a clang as Gareth leapt from Merrick's back, barking orders as he went. "Take Nadar to the North tower and guard him with your life. Then call up every available man and prepare for an attack. If I know Vale's commander as well as I think I do, he'll waste no time scrounging up reinforcements." The soldiers scrambled to do as they were told. Nadar cast one last dark look in Gareth's direction before he was dragged from the horse and carted away like a wheat sack. Tristam dismounted and came to Gareth's side, speaking low so that only Gareth could hear. "What are you going to do with him?" "Nadar isn't my main concern right now." Gareth pointed to Alric, who was climbing from his horse with unsteady bearing. Gareth came to his aid, rushing to his side and steadying him with his own body while Alric dismounted. Once safely on his feet, Alric gave Gareth an exhausted but grateful smile. "Thank you. I was beginning to wonder if I shouldn't just fall from the horse and have done with it." Gareth brushed two careful fingers over Alric's reddened cheek. "You were burned." 193

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Alric shrugged, and Gareth could tell the movement was painful by the slight wince he tried to hide. "'Tis nothing serious." "Perhaps not, but Balthazar will look you over just the same." "What about the men injured in Nadar's attack? Does Balthazar not have his hands full tending them?" Tristam came to stand beside them. "There were no injured men. Leastwise, none that we found. No dead bodies, either." Alric shook his head. "'Tis not possible. Seven men, counting Wycaster, left for the hills with us. There was a battle. I heard the shouts and the fighting." Gareth narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean you 'heard' the battle? Didn't you see what happened?" "No. Nadar's men knocked me from my horse and put a black sack over my head. I saw nothing until we reached the camp." "Pardon my ignorance," Tristam said, "but why didn't you use the fire to defend yourself? Why let them take you at all?" "Without being able to see, there was no way to direct the flame. I'd have been just as likely to set myself afire as not." Gareth felt a spike of relief. He'd been afraid Alric allowed himself to be taken because of that insane sense of guilt he bore. He cleared his throat. "From what little Wycaster told us, you were ambushed. I'm guessing the men were set on from all sides and had little chance of escaping with their lives." 194

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"Wycaster made it out, then?" Alric released the breath he'd been holding. "I was afraid he'd been slaughtered with the rest." "Balthazar was tending him last we heard." Gareth sighed. "Perhaps he can tell us what befell the injured men when he's well enough to speak. Unless Nadar had his soldiers cart away the bodies, I can think of no reasonable excuse why we couldn't find them." "Nor can I." Tristam clenched his jaw. "I'll go upstairs and speak with Balthazar about the commander's condition. With any luck, we'll soon be able to talk to Wycaster ourselves." Gareth stopped him. "First I'd suggest you see your wife and let her know you made it back to the keep in one piece. I imagine she's worked herself into quite a state worrying about you." Tristam nodded his agreement and left. As soon as he was gone, Gareth turned back to Alric. "Once Balthazar is finished with Wycaster, I want him to examine you." His voice fell an octave and he took a step closer. "Afterwards, you're to rest. I want you hale and hearty for what's to come." Alric swallowed. "What do you mean?" Gareth didn't answer him. Any decent general knew better than to tip his hand before laying siege. Alric didn't know it yet, but he was about to have his defenses breached. Leaning so close his breath fanned Alric's face, Gareth said, "Later," and bent to place a chaste kiss upon his lips. With one more admonishment to have Balthazar look at his injuries, he left Alric standing in the bailey. 195

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Gareth still had his brother to deal with, but not even that idiot Nadar could dull his enthusiasm over the evening to come. He'd yet to show Alric how relieved he was to have him home, but before the night was through, Gareth vowed Alric would have no doubts as to how his husband felt about him. **** As Alric predicted, Balthazar pronounced him fine save for a few minor burns. With the promise to mix a healing salve, Balthazar left to see about a fastly healing Wycaster. As soon as the healer was gone, Alric knew it was time to put his plan into motion. Slipping into the antechamber, he stuck his head out the door and looked both ways to make sure the area was deserted. Satisfied no one was about, he slid down the corridor on quiet feet, stopping when he came to the balcony. He kept to the shadows as he peered over the railing. Gareth was sitting in the great hall having an animated conversation with Tristam. From the brief snippets Alric could hear at that distance, he could tell they were arguing over what to do with Nadar. Tristam wanted him tried by the High Council but Gareth was leaning towards a bloodier reckoning. Alric stepped back into the hallway, his mind made up. Tristam and Gareth might not know how to deal with Nadar, but Alric knew exactly what the man needed. With his course set, he made his way to the north tower. The guards at the door knelt as he came into view, but Alric urged them to their feet. "I've a wish to speak with the prisoner." 196

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"Yes, Highness." The lead guard hurried to comply with his command, unchaining the door with haste. A moment later, Alric was standing in the dimly lit cell. A chained and shackled Nadar glared up at him from his position on the floor. "Come to get your revenge, have you?" A flash of fear blemished his face. "What are you going to do, burn me alive?" "The thought never occurred to me." The look on Nadar's face told Alric he didn't believe a word of it, causing Alric to purse his lips. "I see you doubt me." Nadar snorted. "Any man capable of seeding fire from dry air is not to be trusted. I won't fall in league with demon spawn." "Oh, but you already have. The minute you agreed to wed your sister to Denmar, you sealed a pack with the ruler of the Under Realms himself." Nadar regarded him with surly insolence. "Gareth told you of my plans, then." "Quite the contrary. I had no idea why you'd kidnapped me until I heard your soldiers gossiping as they brought me back to camp. One of them said you were going to punish Gareth for ruining your sister's betrothal to Denmar. Up till that point, I had no idea you'd formed an alliance with the man." "Thanks to my bastard brother, there will be no alliance. The High Council listened to his petition and denied my right to make the match." Nadar struggled against his chains with an unsettling rattle. "Gareth dared pull rank as my father's eldest child. He's not even Jarric's legitimate heir." 197

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Alric leaned against the wall. "I still don't understand why you sought to get even by luring Gareth to your camp. Were you so willing to kill your own flesh and blood?" "I had to do something." Nadar's voice rose to painful pitch. "With the alliance foiled, what's to stop Gareth from taking over Vale? I won't sit idly by while he steals my birthright." Alric started. "You believe Gareth is after your kingdom?" "Of course he is." Nadar looked at Alric as if he'd lost his wits. "Why else would he thwart Sonya's marriage?" It was the question Alric had been waiting for. Pushing himself away from the wall, he pulled the lone torch lighting the room from its bracket. He then used it to light the four other torches positioned around the small chamber. In little time at all, the grim cell was brightly lit. Nadar blinked against the light. "What are you doing?" Alric slid the torch back onto the wall before coming to stand a scant foot from Nadar's face. "You asked me a question. I wanted to make certain you have light enough to see the answer." He plucked at the lacings of his tunic. "I believe you wanted to know the real reason Gareth interfered with your sister's marriage plans. Allow me to show you." Without waiting for an answer, Alric turned, tugged his tunic over his head, and laid his back bare for Nadar to see.

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Chapter Eleven Gareth scrubbed a weary hand across his face as he made his way to the north tower. He was still angry enough to kill Nadar for putting Alric's life in jeopardy, but a long talk with Tristam and a couple of hours to temper his wrath had helped him gain perspective. If Nadar hadn't known Alric's secrets before, he certainly knew them now. He was a threat that had to be neutralized, but violence against his own brother would only earn Gareth the disapproval of the High Council and dishonor his father's memory. Holding on to the faint hope that Nadar was rational enough to listen to reason, Gareth made his way to the cell. The guards opened the door for him with a metallic thud. Gareth walked into the small chamber expecting Nadar to rail against him the minute their eyes met. Instead, his brother was sitting on the floor, a faraway expression on his face. "Did Denmar truly put those marks on your husband's back?" The question hit Gareth like a slap to the face. "How did you know about those?" "He showed them to me only moments ago." Another shock. "Alric was here?" "He told me what he endured at Denmar's hands." Nadar looked up at Gareth before drawing a ragged breath. "At first I didn't believe him, but then he showed me proof, and I..." He slumped against his chains. "I almost matched my own sister to that monster Denmar. How could I have been so blind?" 199

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Nadar had a reputation for many things, but owning up to his mistakes wasn't one of them. Unsure how to deal with this new side of his brother, Gareth proceeded with caution. "Perhaps now you can see why I intervened with the High Council." "What I see is a man determined to take my kingdom. Now that the alliance has been foiled—rightly so, though it may have been—I've not a hope of holding onto Vale." Nadar's shoulders sagged. "You may as well kill me now. By the time you're done, I'll have nothing left to call my own, anyway." Gareth was shaken to the marrow. "You think 'tis Vale I'm after?" "Playing the fool doesn't suit you, Gareth." Nadar's laugh was harsh and humorless. "I've known for years how you envied my inheritance. My mother warned me that one day you'd rise up to claim Vale as your own, but I thought sure I could hold you off. Now that you've the High Council to back you, all my hopes are for naught." "Your mother lied to you, Nadar." Gareth closed his eyes and prayed for patience. "I've known all the while that Vale rightfully belongs to you. I've never once thought of trying to take it." "All I ask," Nadar said as if Gareth hadn't spoken, "is once you've killed me and claimed the throne, that you make provisions for my family. I've a wife and a young son. Then there's Mother and the girls to think about. Sonya and Ellyce are your sisters too. You—" 200

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"For The Creator's sake, Nadar, haven't you heard a word I've said? I'm not after Vale. Your throne is safe." Nadar snorted. "You've got me chained to the wall like an errant dog. How safe can my throne be when I'm at your mercy?" Gareth ground his teeth. "You kidnapped and threatened to kill my husband. How did you expect me to react? Was I to welcome you with open arms, to invite you to share a jug of ale with me while Alric burned to death in that tent?" "I did what I had to do to save my home." Nadar bowed his head. "Now that all my efforts were in vain, there's nothing to do but surrender." He glanced back up at Gareth, his eyes flashing. "I won't beg you for mercy. That's the one pleasure you'll never gain from me." Trying to reason with Nadar was getting him nowhere. Seating himself on the cold floor not far from where his brother was chained, Gareth tried a different tactic. "Did Father ever tell you the story of your birth?" Nadar eyed him with open suspicion. "What is this you say?" "The day you were born ... did Father ever tell you about it?" Before Nadar could answer, Gareth continued. "Obviously he didn't or you'd know what I mean. The day of your birth, Father was on the far side of Vale, dealing with a band of rebels who'd caused a minor insurrection in one of the low lying villages. He received word that Lady Sharlan had begun her labors and hurried home to witness your birth. Unfortunately, he got there just in time to hear the midwife pronounce you stillborn." 201

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Nadar scoffed. "Had I been stillborn, you and I wouldn't be having this conversation." "You were blue and lifeless, the birthing cord wrapped tight around your neck." Gareth went on with his story as if Nadar hadn't interrupted. "The midwife grabbed a dark cloth and was about to cover you with it when Father ripped you from her hands." Nadar's eyes went wide. "Who told you this?" "Father told me himself. He said he took one look at you, so small and still, and knew he couldn't lose you. He took you from that woman's hands and cut the cord from your neck with his own dagger. Then he laid you upon the bed and did something I'd never heard tell of." Too engrossed in the story to remember his anger, Nadar said, "What?" "He opened your tiny mouth and breathed life into you. He gave you the air from his own lungs, Nadar. He fought for you the only way he knew how." Gareth smiled as he did every time he recalled his father's words. "The midwife was so terrified when you opened your eyes and let out the first pitiful wail, she ran from the room screaming. Father said your mother was just as frightened and actually fainted, though I imagine that had more to do with the birthing ordeal than true fear. Nevertheless, all the commotion caused Father's men to come rushing forth." Nadar was watching him closely. "And then?" "According to Father, Jeoffry was first on the scene. Having heard the midwife's tales, he demanded to know what Father had done. Father looked him right in the eye and said, 'Only 202

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what I had to do.' Then he held you up high and pronounced you the next ruler of Vale, his beloved son and a gift from The Creator, Himself." Nadar was silent for so long, Gareth was afraid he'd gone back to sulking. Finally, he said, "Why would Father tell this to you and not me?" "Because he wanted me to understand my place in our family. He loved me, Nadar—loved my mother—but you held a special place for him no one else could. The minute Father shared with you the very breath from his body, you became a part of him as none of his other children could: the living embodiment of his future. Father told me the story of your birth on the eve of my fifteenth birthday, the day my fostering with him ended. He told me then that Lachlan would be mine, but Vale would always be yours." Nadar curled his lip. "I'd wager you hated hearing that." "You're wrong." Gareth spoke with all the sincerity in his heart. "I accepted it then as I accept it now because I knew you were meant to rule. Any babe strong enough to defy death itself is meant to be a king." "But my mother said—" "Your mother is a jealous fool, Nadar. Jarric fell in love with my mother long before his father ordered him to marry Sharlan. When Jarric learned of his forced betrothal, he fought the match, but in the end there was nothing he could do. He made my mother his mistress and set her up in a fine house not far from Vale's borders. Then he pledged his troth to Sharlan like the dutiful son he was. As far as I can tell, he never made any secret that Sharlan was second in his 203

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affections, and she hated my mother for that. Adding to the insult, my mother gave birth to me a full two years before Sharlan was able to conceive. As a result, Sharlan saw me as a threat, a usurper ready to steal Vale from any offspring she might have." Gareth folded his hands. "I'm only sorry she visited her envious poisons on you." Nadar shook his head as if trying to clear it. "You always seemed to bear me so much hatred." "If you think back on it," Gareth said, "I believe you'll see why. Each time I tried to approach you—even when we were nothing more than children—you scorned me. For the longest time, I wasn't even certain you knew my name. The only thing you ever called me was 'bastard.'" Nadar winced. "I thought I was protecting myself against a man who coveted my throne." "You were wrong. All I wanted was to make peace with you, but it always seemed to be beyond my grasp." Gareth rose to his feet. "I'll leave you alone to think about what I've said." He stopped on his way to the door and spoke over his shoulder. "I never hated you, Nadar, but I do despise your mother and will until the day I die. She robbed me of the one thing I always longed for." Nadar arched his brows. "Your rightful place as the ruler of Vale?" "No. What Sharlan took from me is much more precious than a kingdom." Gareth inhaled against a fresh wave of regret. "She stole from me the chance to love and be loved by my brother." **** 204

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Gareth found Wycaster heavily bandaged and sitting up in bed. Balthazar handed Gareth a silver cup on his way out the door and said, "Order him to drink that, would you? I've been trying for the longest now with little success." He glared at Wycaster one last time before making his exit. Gareth grinned as he crossed the room and took the chair closest to Wycaster's sick bed. "I gather you aren't the best of patients." He handed the cup over. Wycaster downed the brew, sputtering and exclaiming over the taste before tossing the empty vessel onto the floor. "I shouldn't be in this blasted bed to begin with." He struggled to find a more comfortable position. "Prince Alric ... is he well?" "Banged, bruised, and burned, but overall none the worse for wear." "And my injured soldiers? Were you able to help them?" "'Tis what I wanted to talk to you about." Gareth watched him closely, ready to measure the man's reaction. "There were no wounded men, Wycaster, and not a single body was recovered, either. 'Tis as if the battle never took place." Wycaster sat straight up, then fell back with a groan when the movement jostled his injured side. When finally he could speak, his voice was nothing more than a rasping whisper. "'Tis impossible, what you're saying. Vale's soldiers rushed us, and I saw ... I saw—" He broke off then, his eyes going wide. "What is it? What did you see?" 205

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Wycaster's sigh was long and slow. "'Tis what I just realized. I saw nothing at all. So intent was I on getting to the king, I paid no heed to the battle behind me. As I rushed to King Alric's aid, one of Vale's soldiers clubbed me with the butt of his sword. When at last I woke, the king was gone, and six men lay on the grass. I thought sure two were dead and the rest wounded, but now I wonder..." Gareth didn't have to ask his meaning. "You wonder if 'twas but a ruse on the part of the soldiers." Wycaster nodded, his eyes heavy with a pain that had little to do with his wounds. "The men who rode out with us today joined our ranks only a month ago. I thought I'd learned them well enough to trust them with the king's safety, but now..." He shook his head. "'Twould seem I made a grievous error." "Did not you think it strange that six able bodied foreigners came to you at the same time seeking a place in Kray's army?" "Yes, but—" Again Wycaster sat straight up in his sick bed, only this time he kept his balance and fought against the pain. He was trying to climb from the bed when Gareth stayed him with a firm hand. Wycaster fought to free himself from Gareth's grasp. "Let me go, Sire. I must—" "Do nothing but rest." Gareth's resolve was complete. "You're not to rise until your body replenishes its strength. Balthazar said as much." Still Wycaster fought. "You don't understand." 206

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"No, and I won't until you tell me what has you so undone." "Sire, those men ... the lot of them were recommended to me. I was told they came from an ailing village to the east of us and needed the work. I was asked to train them myself." Gareth's heart began to race. "By someone here at Kray?" Wycaster nodded, his face awash with misery. "I'm sorry to say it, but yes." He drew a harsh, stilted breath. "I know the name of our traitor." **** Alric opened the door wide as Lennox, one of his personal servants, and another man brought a shinning metal tub into his bedchamber. Two more men followed, pouring forth ewer upon ewer of steaming water until the tub was all but full. Having felt dirty since the moment Nadar's men grabbed him, Alric could hardly wait to avail himself of the cleansing soak. Grabbing a cake of soap and a linen cloth from the chest at the base of his bed, Alric thanked the servants and began to disrobe. "Will there be anything else, Majesty?" "No, thank you, Lennox." Lennox bowed low and took his leave along with the rest of them. Once alone, Alric shed the remainder of his garments and lowered himself into the water. The blessed heat went a long way toward taking the chill from his blood. Ignoring the twinges to his burns, he ducked beneath the surface and soaked his head. Rising, he soaped his body from face to foot before scrubbing the cake over his 207

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hair. He dropped the soap into the water and lay back, working the suds into his scalp. Warm fingers joined his, causing Alric to start. "Lennox, I told you I needed no further assistance." He was always careful not to allow the servants a look at his back. It was bad enough having to live with the marks. Alric had no desire for his private shame to become public knowledge. "If you wouldn't mind leaving, I'll finish my bath alone." "Ah, but I would mind. You have no idea how much." Hot breath caressed his ear. "Please tell me you don't make a habit of allowing other men to bathe you, servants included. I doubt my jealous heart could take it." Alric went stiff, trying to open his eyes and getting a burning wash of soap for his efforts. "Gareth, what are you—" "Shh. Let me help you." A soothing cloth was pressed against his eyes a second before a rain of fresh water cascaded over his head, rinsing away the soap. Alric could feel Gareth's fingers smoothing through his hair, searching for a hint of remaining lather. Once certain Alric was clean, Gareth said, "I think that's got you." He hesitated. "Sorry. Looks as if I missed a spot right over ... here." Before Alric could guess what he meant to do, Gareth leaned over the tub and nibbled the tender area just below his right ear. Alric's hips shot from the water as he sought to move away. Gareth slipped his arms around Alric and held him tight, continuing the tender assault on his neck. Again Alric struggled for freedom, banging his knees against the tub in an effort to get loose. 208

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"Stop that." Gareth's fingers held fast, making soft, circular patterns on Alric's chest. "You're more likely to hurt yourself as not." "Then let me go." "No." Gareth laid a soft kiss at the base of Alric's shoulder, causing him to shiver anew. "Letting you go is the one thing I will not do. Not now, and not ever." Alric stiffened. "You came in here thinking to void my grounds for annulment?" He could feel Gareth's smile against the sensitive skin at the base of his throat. "No, Alric. I came in here to make love with my husband, a task much easier accomplished if you'd stop fighting me and hold still." They couldn't do this. Alric knew it as sure as he knew his own name. Unfortunately, his traitorous body didn't agree. Already he was growing hard beneath the water, aching with a longing he could scarcely deny. But deny it he must, for both their sakes. With all the strength he could muster, Alric wrenched himself free from Gareth's grasp, turning and backing against the end of the tub. Again Gareth reached for him, but Alric stayed him with a hand upon his chest. "We can't ... I don't want this." Gareth raised one brow before pointing to the evidence of Alric's arousal, clearly visible through the water. "A falsehood if ever I heard one." Alric swallowed. "I want you. 'Tis one fact I will not— cannot—deny. But you must understand. Were we to mate, we would henceforth be bonded." That Alric wanted that bond 209

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more than anything else in his life was irrelevant. He'd learned long ago not to pine for that which he couldn't have. Hoping to make Gareth see reason, he said, "We both know that isn't what you want. Get out now, whilst you still have the chance." Gareth took Alric's hand from off his chest and kissed each one of the fingers with infinite care before letting go and rising to his feet. "You have no idea what I want." He reached for the hem of his own tunic, yanking it over his head and casting it onto the floor. "If I'm half the man I think myself to be, I vow you're soon to find out." Alric was getting desperate. He rose from the water and reached for his drying cloth with one swift motion. Covering his loins with the thin linen as best he could, he looked Gareth in the eye and said, "You can't possibly want me. Not knowing where I've been ... who I've been with. If this is about the alliance, I've already told you, I'll not break faith with Drystan once our marriage is over." Gareth stood on his left foot and pulled his right boot free with one swift tug before casting it aside. "Listen to me, Alric." He changed positions and removed his other boot, tossing it to rest on the floor with its partner. "Listen well, because I'll say this once more, and once more alone. What lies between us has nothing to do with wars and alliances, kingdoms or revenge. This is about you, me, and the fact that I want you so much I ache with it." He took a step closer and began working on the lacings of his hose. "Each time I close my eyes, 'tis your face I see. Your smell ... it haunts me." Gareth closed his eyes, inhaling deep. When 210

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he opened them again, the blue circles were shining with an emotion Alric could only name as raw desire. "No other man could smell as sweet. And the brief tastes I've had of you ... Creator save me, I've been going mad wondering what it would be like to taste you until I've had my fill. How would it be, I wonder, to drag my tongue across your body until I've sampled each delectable trace of your flesh?" With that question hanging in the air, Gareth undid the last tie and allowed the hose to fall free of his legs. Stepping out of them, he gave Alric the first glimpse of him in all his naked glory. And glorious, he was. Gareth's corded chest was carved as if from the finest stone, and smooth as if shaved clean. Strong arms hung open at his sides, just daring Alric to step into them. Gareth's muscular legs were long and lean, covered with a thin dusting of blond hair that ran from his ankles to the thick triangle just below his stomach. As impressive as the rest of Gareth's body was, it was the rigid member standing erect amidst the thicket of curls that rendered Alric speechless. His fingers longed to trace the smooth, hard surface. Seeing the direction of Alric's gaze, Gareth said, "Like what you see?" As if caught doing something naughty, Alric's eyes whipped back to Gareth's face. "How..." He trailed off, cleared his throat, and then tried again. "How can you want me?" The question came out little more than a faint whisper. "Knowing what I am—the taint upon me. What must you see when you look at me?" 211

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Gareth closed the distance between them in two long strides. Alric stepped out of the tub then, still holding the linen around his waist while trying to get away. But the tub was already so close to the wall, Alric soon found himself backed against the cold stone with Gareth's warm body holding him captive. Afraid to look Gareth in the eye—afraid of what he'd see— Alric lowered his head. Gareth was having none of it. Placing one solid finger beneath Alric's chin, he lifted his face until Alric was again looking at him. "You want to know what I see when I look at you?" "No, I—" Gareth placed a feather-light kiss on Alric's parted lips. "Hush. You asked me a question, and now you'll hear the answer." With his free hand, he pushed an errant lock of damp hair from Alric's forehead. "I see an honorable man, brave and loyal to a fault. A man willing to sacrifice himself to save those around him." Gareth removed his finger from Alric's chin and trailed it down his heaving chest, the contact sending shards of lightening heat through Alric's veins. "I see a man who survived the worst torture I've ever heard tell of and came out all the stronger for it." Gareth slipped his left arm around Alric's waist. "I see the man I'm to spend the rest of my days with. The man I want—need—to be with. Now. Right now." Gareth drew him close, bringing their bodies flush together. The feel of Gareth's heated flesh on his was more than Alric could take. He groaned low as his head lolled back upon 212

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his shoulders, giving Gareth the advantage he needed. Again he brought his lips to Alric's throat, this time tracing the tender hollow at the base with his tongue. Another moan from Alric and Gareth pulled away, holding out his hand. "Come to bed, Alric. Come to me." Alric knew what Gareth was asking. For all his talk of making theirs a marriage in truth, Gareth would never force him. It was Alric's choice, and he alone held the balance of their future in his hands. If he said no now, Gareth would never ask again, and it would be the end for them both. With unblinking eyes, Gareth watched, waiting for his answer. If Gareth's words hadn't swayed Alric, the look of desire and longing in his eyes would have. Gareth wanted him. Him. Not Alric the king, nor Alric the fire maker-cum-weapon. Only him. Alric the man. Though he couldn't reason the why of it, Alric would question it no more. Allowing the drying cloth to fall to the floor, Alric placed his hand in Gareth's. With a harsh cry of relief, Gareth all but pulled him to the bed on the other side of the room. "Creator be thanked." He took Alric into his arms and kissed him long and hard ere he could speak. As before, Gareth's tongue claimed his mouth with brute strength, but this time there was a sureness about it, a deep, swirling sureness that left Alric hard as a pike and panting for breath. Backing away, Gareth placed a hand on each of Alric's sides and lowered him to the mattress before lying down beside him, his hands urging Alric onto his stomach. 213

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"What are you—" The words became muffled as Alric found himself lying face down on the mattress. "Shh." Gareth straddled Alric's buttocks and with one finger, traced the scar closest to the top of his neck. Alric turned his head to the side and tried to make Gareth stop touching the offending marks. "Please don't. They're ... please, don't look upon my scars." His face heated with the humiliation of having himself thus exposed. "At least allow me to put out the candles and douse the fire so you won't have to see them." "No, my own. These scars are a part of you. I want to see them." Alric's voice was a thin, pale whisper. "They're ugly." "Nothing about you could be ugly. Don't you know that?" And before Alric could think of a way to stop him, Gareth kissed the scar he'd just traced with his finger, his tongue repeating the same caressing motion. A slow wave of heat traveled from Alric's back to his middle and settled deep between his legs. He'd never thought the hideous marks could garner him pleasure, but Gareth made a fool of that notion as he kissed, licked, and suckled each of the ridges. By the time he reached the scars at the base of Alric's spine, Gareth was between Alric's legs, and Alric was gasping for air whilst grinding his throbbing manhood against the satin coverlet. "Gareth, please..." "Easy, pet. I know." It was then Alric felt Gareth's fingers working against him. Alric was on fire as Gareth put a hand on either side of his crease and spread him wide. "A prettier sight I've never seen." Gareth inhaled deeply. "As I said, you 214

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smell better than any man has a right." His finger made a ghostly pass across Alric's puckered hole. "If you taste half as good right here," again with the finger, "as you smell, 'tis a dead man I'll be come the morrow." With that pronouncement, Gareth's finger was replaced by his tongue. Alric was hard pressed not to moan as Gareth's tongue and teeth teased his most private entrance until Alric was near to screaming with unfulfilled need. Just when he thought he'd expire from the pleasure of it, Gareth pulled away and Alric moaned his distress. That moan earned Alric a husky chuckle from Gareth. "You needn't worry that I'm leaving you. I brought with me something to ease my way inside you, and I've only to fetch it." A moment later Gareth was back. Alric heard the crisp pop of a bottle being uncorked. Soon after, a slick drizzle of what could only be oil was poured upon his opening. A hollow thud sounded on the bedside table, and then Gareth's weight was back on the bed. Gareth spread Alric anew, opening him wide as one thick finger worked its way deep inside. The pressure was intense but bearable and Alric thrust himself against Gareth's hand as a second finger was added. Little noises of passion were coming from Alric's throat now, but he was powerless to stop them. His thoughts were so centered on the pleasure Gareth was giving him, Alric hardly noticed as a third finger came in to join the first two. And then it was over, as Gareth removed his fingers and left Alric feeling stretched and empty. He was about to give voice to his complaints when Gareth reared behind him. The 215

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smooth slap of oil against flesh sounded as Gareth readied himself. A moment later, the pressure was back. Gareth lined himself up and prepared to breach him, one word escaping his lips. "Mine." And then Gareth made his way inside, parting Alric's tight passage with short, even strokes. The few times Alric had allowed himself pleasure since his first marriage ended—even when he'd been with Finn—his mind had been filled with images of Denmar. He'd felt the man's power over him even in the throes of release. Now there was no one in the room with Alric save Gareth. Gareth, entering him with a cool, cleansing burn. Gareth, whispering pretty words of desire as he breached Alric fully before pulling out and then coming back to slide his manhood again and again over the one spot deep inside him that sent Alric's senses skidding into oblivion. Gareth, who roared Alric's name just before filling him with his seed. Grateful as he was to feel the evidence of Gareth's pleasure, Alric was desperate for release, so close and yet so far away. He reached for his own throbbing member as Gareth pulled free from his body, but Gareth pushed Alric's hand away and rolled him over. Alric thrashed atop the covers, wanting—needing—to spend his seed. And then Gareth was there between his legs, taking Alric into his mouth and suckling him with a touch that was at once tender and hungry. One, two deep draws and Alric came undone, his frame wracked with spasms as Gareth took all he had to give and more. After that, Alric was gone, drifting into a place of pure sensation where conscious thought was no longer possible. 216

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**** The fire had died down long ago—the embers barely casting a glow past the hearth—but Gareth made no move to rise and rekindle the flames. He was warm and comfortable just where he lay, nestled underneath a mound of blankets, watching Alric sleep. Gareth rolled to the side and propped on one elbow, allowing himself the pleasure of watching his husband's chest rise and fall in gentle slumber. He got a sleepy smile for his efforts as Alric opened one silver eye and gazed up at him. "Hello." "Hello, yourself." Gareth smoothed his free hand over Alric's chest from underneath the covers. "I didn't mean to wake you." Alric shook his head without lifting it from the pillow. "You didn't." He stretched like a well-pleased cat. "How long have I slept?" "I'm not certain. Hours? Minutes? All I can tell you true is that the sun has not yet risen." "The fire has died." "Yes. Want me to stoke the flames?" To Gareth's delight, Alric burrowed in closer. "I've warmth enough right here." He wrapped his leg around Gareth's waist, causing Gareth to harden in response and groan against the onslaught of sensation. Alric pulled back a space. "Tired of me already?" Gareth could tell by the smile on Alric's face he wasn't worried in the least. 217

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"A pox on any man who dares suggest it," Gareth said, "but I rode you hard this night. I'm afraid a second time would be too much for you." With a boldness Gareth wasn't expecting, Alric's hand snaked beneath the blankets and made a slow trek toward the spot between Gareth's thighs. "I'm not near so fragile as you think me." Gareth drew in a deep breath as Alric's fist closed around him in a firm yet gentle grip that made Gareth shiver despite the warmth of the bed. "Fragile no, but infinitely precious." He gripped Alric's arms as Alric rose up and over him, straddling him. It was as Alric held him steady and prepared to mount him that Gareth again protested. "You were so small when I took you. So tight. If ever I hurt you ... "Whatever else Gareth might have said was drowned out by his own moan as Alric sank down onto him, taking him in one smooth move all the way to the hilt. Alric froze with his buttocks firmly planted on Gareth's thighs, and Gareth feared the worst. "It hurts, does it not?" Gareth tried to move Alric off him, but Alric held fast. "No, oh ... no." The last word came out more a purr than actual speak. "You feel so good inside me, Gareth. 'Tis as if you were made to be a part of my body." The words heated Gareth as nothing else could have. Alric's flesh was a pleasing vice that he never wanted to leave as the man above him rose and fell in a series of shallow movements that left them both breathless and wanting. Alric's head fell back on his shoulders as he braced his hands 218

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on Gareth's chest and continued the gentle rhythm. "So good. So very, very good." And it was. Even though Alric's total control of the coupling denied Gareth the long, deep plunges he sought, he soon found himself teetering on the brink. Determined the two of them would seek release together, Gareth reached between them and stroked Alric's glorious erection, timing his movements to coincide with Alric's. Within minutes, Alric was moaning low in his throat, a sure sign he was nearing completion. Gareth increased his speed and was soon rewarded as Alric's scalding spray spilled across his belly. Seeing himself covered in the evidence of Alric's pleasure was all Gareth needed. Pulling Alric down on top of him, Gareth held him tight and filled him with his essence. It was some time later before Gareth regained his wits, far too content with Alric's comforting weight on top of him to move. But move he must. Gareth had yet to tell Alric the truth of what he'd learned, and though he dreaded hurting him in such a way, Gareth knew the time had come. As gently as he could, Gareth pulled his half-hard shaft from Alric's body and rolled him to the side. Alric protested. "I'm not yet finished with you." Gareth rose from the bed, grimacing as the cold air of the room hit him full force. He cast Alric a smile over his shoulder as he fought the cold and made his way to the fireplace. "Finished? Who said anything about being finished? As far as I'm concerned, pet, we're only taking a brief rest." 219

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Seemingly satisfied with the answer, Alric dozed under the covers while Gareth rebuilt the fire and fetched a clean cloth from the chest at the end of the bed. Wetting it in the now frigid bathwater, Gareth walked it back over to the hearth and warmed it before the rising flames. Washing himself thoroughly, he returned to the tub and cleaned the rag anew before coming again to the hearth and repeating the motion. This time, he took the warmed rag straight to the bed and pulled the blankets away, washing Alric's chest before moving down to clean his spent member. Alric's whole body flushed red with embarrassment. "I can do that myself." "Yes, but would you enjoy it near as much?" Gareth moved further down, bathing Alric's twice-loved opening with a thoroughness that had Alric squirming against the mattress. Gareth kept to his task no matter how much Alric writhed and flushed, not stopping until he was satisfied he'd cleansed away the evidence of their lovemaking. Once done, he tossed the rag aside and climbed under the covers with Alric, gathering him up and holding him close. To his delight, Alric melted into his arms, laying his head on Gareth's chest. "I fear I'm going to get used to this." His voice was thick with sleepy contentment. Gareth kissed the top of Alric's head. "I see you've gleaned my plan." He was quiet for a moment. "Much as I'm enjoying basking in the afterglow, I'm sorry to say there's something you and I must discuss." Alric stiffened. "Are you regretting what just happened?" Gareth rolled his eyes. "Don't be an idiot." He rubbed his hands up and down Alric's back. "Lying with you—making you 220

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my husband in truth—is the most intelligent thing I've ever done. Between you and me, that's saying something." Alric pinched him for his boast, and Gareth chuckled, though his laughter was short lived. Alric must have felt the tension in him, for he said, "This is something I'm going to hate, isn't it?" "Yes." Gareth sighed. "Before I came to you last evening, I had a long talk with Wycaster. He and I believe the reason the bodies of the slain and wounded soldiers were never found is because—" "Because they were part of the plot to abduct me." Alric finished the sentence. "How did you know?" Alric shrugged. "'Twas the only thing that made sense. I knew from Wycaster's injuries he'd tried to protect me, but the rest of it I just couldn't reason. If Nadar had captured the injured and removed the dead, why then did I find no traces at your brother's camp of the six men who'd journeyed with us? Besides, I've been wondering how Nadar's men knew where to find us. I was traveling back roads to an isolated location when I was abducted. 'Twould have been difficult for them to find me without instruction." "I've wondered the same thing." Gareth set his jaw. "Perhaps I can get the truth from Nadar, though Creator only knows he hates me enough to withhold the information for sake of spite." Alric's fingers made slow circles across Gareth's chest, soothing him in a way only he could do. "I spoke with your brother. I believe Nadar fears you, but hate? I think not." 221

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Gareth caressed the back of Alric's neck with one fingertip. "Must have been hard for you, baring your scars to him that way." "Maybe, but Nadar had to see proof of Denmar's treachery for himself. 'Twas the only way to convince him you acted in your sister's best interests when you foiled the match." Gareth marveled at the unselfishness of the man lying next to him. "I thank you for it, though Nadar is convinced that since the alliance with Denmar is broken, I'll soon go after Vale myself." "So he told me." Alric paused. "I hate to state the obvious, but keeping Nadar locked in the tower is not the best way to convince him you seek peace." "I know that, but when he took you..." Gareth shuddered, not wanting to relive the hellish hours he'd spent not knowing whether Alric was dead or alive. He cleared his throat. "I'll think on what to do with Nadar some other time. Right now I must tell you the full truth of what I learned from Wycaster." Forcing the words from his lips, Gareth revealed the identity of the man he believed to be Kray's traitor. When Gareth was done with the telling, Alric rose from the bed and went to stand beside the hearth, watching as the flames danced against the stones. His face was pale, and even from across the room, Gareth could feel his pain. Gareth was quiet for as long as he could stand it, giving Alric a chance to digest his words. When he could stay silent no longer, Gareth crossed the distance between them, a blanket in his hand. Draping it first around his own shoulders, he embraced Alric from behind and covered them both with 222

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the soft cloth. "I'm sorry. I'd spare you this if I could." He placed a soft kiss on Alric's neck. "How long?" Gareth didn't understand the question. "What do you mean?" "How long, I wonder, has he been plotting against my father's house?" "Months, I suspect. Perhaps even years. Unless he tells us, I suppose we'll never know." "My father trusted him, Gareth—made him a part of our fold." Alric turned in the circle of Gareth's arms, his eyes alight with fury. "I'll see him pay for what he's done or die trying." Vengeance was an emotion Gareth understood all too well. "And pay he will, Alric, but first we need to find out how much he knows and how he's feeding his information to our enemies. We must tempt him into giving himself away." "And just how shall we do that?" "'Tis simple." Gareth kissed the tip of Alric's nose. "You and I are going to set a trap."

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Chapter Twelve Gareth squeezed Alric's fingers as they made their way down the stairs to the great hall the next morning. "Ready?" Alric sighed. "No, but I know the necessity of it. Are you certain Tristam and Maris know their parts?" "Yes. I discussed it at length with the both of them not an hour ago." Gareth stopped on the last step, turning Alric to face him. "If this chore is too much for you—" "No. If you and Wycaster are right, I'll see the man pay for what he's done. 'Tis hard to fathom such a betrayal, is all." Gareth slipped one arm around his shoulders and pulled him in for a soft kiss on the lips. "'Twill all be over soon, pet." Alric smiled, the sight warming Gareth's heart. "Pet. 'Tis thrice now you've called me that. Do you think me a hound to follow at your heels or a cat to warm your lap whilst you stroke my fur?" "Do I think you an animal? No." Gareth's voice fell to a husky whisper. "But I would like nothing better than to have you spread across my lap, stroking you in the most delicious of ways." Alric flushed. "I'll hold you to that when we've finished this task." Gareth nodded and again took Alric's hand. "Let's have done with it, then." They descended the last step and strode into the hall where Tristam and Maris were already seated, breaking their fasts. As Gareth had hoped, Bertrand was coming across the hall as the two of them entered. Gareth signaled him over. 224

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"Bertrand, I'd like a word with you now." Bertrand scurried over and dipped into a low bow. Straightening, he said, "How may I assist you, Sire?" "Instruct the servants to move my things into King Alric's rooms. Henceforth, we'll be sharing the same chambers." Bertrand's eyes went wide. "Sire, might I inquire ... that is to say, does this mean you and the king are well and truly married now?" That Bertrand knew his marriage had not previously been consummated was yet another sign to Gareth he'd guessed right. Casting an adoring smile in Alric's direction, he squeezed his husband's hand before turning back to Bertrand. "Indeed we are." Bertrand was practically salivating at the news. "Congratulations, sire. 'Tis a glorious day, this. I'll make the arrangements at once." "Before you go, Bertrand, I've one more task for you." "Yes, King Gareth?" "Have my brother moved from the tower into one of the guest chambers. Ready fresh clothes and a hot bath for him. Also, I expect his men to arrive at the gates any moment, with more forces added to their ranks. Instruct the soldiers to offer Nadar's troops no opposition as they pass through the castle gates." Bertrand's brows rose high on his forehead. "Are you certain that's wise, Sire?" "Absolutely. I want Nadar's commander to be told Nadar is no longer a prisoner of Kray. Indeed, the lot of them are to be treated as honored guests." 225

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"But..." Bertrand trailed off, tried to speak again, and then closed his mouth without saying anything. From beside Gareth, Alric spoke up. "Have you a problem with my husband's orders, Bertrand?" "No, Highness." Bertrand was quick to shake his head. "I am a bit surprised, 'tis all." "As was I," Alric said, "but I trust my husband's judgment and I expect you to do the same. Now be about your tasks." "Yes, Highness. Right away." As soon as Bertrand was gone, Gareth and Alric made their way to the table. Tristam waited until they were seated to say, "I hate to echo Bertrand, but are you certain releasing Nadar is a smart course to take?" "I can't keep him a prisoner forever." Gareth shrugged. "If my plan is to work I must show Nadar I pose him no threat. I cannot think of a better way than this." He paused, knowing Tristam was not happy about his decision. "Have you the papers for me to sign?" "I wrote them out as you requested." Tristam made a face. Not that I agree with your choice, mind you." Maris placed her hand on Tristam's arm. "'Tis Gareth's choice to make, my love. Lachlan is his to do with as he will." Before Tristam could respond, a commotion sounded just outside the hall. A moment later, Nadar burst in, dirty, disheveled, and clearly confused. He rounded on Gareth, ignoring Bertrand's objections to come and have a bath before greeting them. "What game are you playing now, brother?" 226

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Gareth bit back a sigh. Only Nadar could make the word brother sound like an insult. "Unless you consider offering you a place of welcome in my home a game, then I'd have to say I'm playing at nothing." Gareth turned on the bench and faced Nadar down. "I thought only to make you more comfortable until your men get here." "If this is part of your plan to seize Vale—" "Heard you not a word I said last evening?" Gareth rolled his eyes. "I'm not after your kingdom, Nadar. On that you have my word." Nadar spat on the floor. "The word of a bastard usurper means nothing to me." Gareth felt the tension in Alric—anger over the insult Nadar had just delivered, no doubt. Placing his hand on Alric's thigh, Gareth gave a subtle shake of his head. Thankfully, Alric seemed to understand that Nadar was Gareth's to deal with. Though his next act would be difficult to complete, Gareth knew what he had to do. Ignoring Nadar for the moment, he looked to Tristam. "If you have those papers with you, now would be a good time to see them signed." Tristam grumbled but removed the papers from his tunic just as he'd been asked. Alric instructed a passing servant to fetch quill and ink while Gareth read over the documents and then nodded in satisfaction. "This should do nicely." As soon as the girl came back with the needed items, Gareth dipped his pen into the well and scrawled his signature at the bottom of the page. He then 227

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passed the thing across the table to Tristam. "You've only to witness this, and the deed will be done." "Not quite," Tristam said. "We've still to send this to the High King for his approval." Gareth shook his head. "'Tis only a formality. I feel certain Elwin will back me on this." Nadar, tired of being left out of the conversation, stamped his foot against the stone floor. "I demand to know what you're about, and I demand to know now." Gareth waited until Tristam finished signing and then waved the document in the air to let it dry before rising to his feet and handing it over to Nadar. "I believe this will tell you all you need to know." By the time he'd finished reading, Nadar's hands were shaking, the parchment sounding a loud rattle in the quiet of the hall. "You can't be serious." "I said the same thing." Tristam's voice held a dry quality that almost made Gareth smile. "Trust me when I tell you he is." "But to give up Lachlan..." Nadar locked eyes with Gareth. "Why?" "By giving Lachlan to you, I forfeit all rights to our father's kingdom, including Vale. In refusing my inheritance, I'm giving up my birthright and proclaiming you Jarric's well and true heir. You no longer have to worry about the safety of your throne, Nadar. You'll receive no opposition from me." Doubt and suspicion burned in Nadar's eyes. "This has to be a trick of some sort." 228

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Gareth almost laughed. The one part of their plan that was completely based on truth, and Nadar was calling him a liar. He shook his head. "'Tis no trick, I assure you. Lachlan and all that comes with it now belongs to you." "But Father ... he gave that to you." Nadar's voice was laced with bewilderment. "You lived there with your Kiel. Can you really give it up so easily?" "If it means being at peace with my only brother for the first time in my life, then yes, I can." Gareth crossed the distance between them, stopping just in front of Nadar so that the two of them were face to face. "I'm asking for a truce. I want no more ill will to lie between us." "I..." Nadar's voice cracked. He stopped to clear his throat before trying again. "You would offer me this, even after I conspired against you and abducted your husband?" "'Tis not something I forgave lightly, believe me." Gareth's jaw went rigid. "Had Alric been harmed, you and I would not be having this conversation. As it is, I understand you were motivated by fear, which is the reason I'm willing to give you a second chance now." He paused, Nadar's question having given him the opening he needed. "There is one thing I've been meaning to ask, however. How did you know where to find Alric at the moment you took him? How did you know he'd left the safety of Kray's walls?" From the corner of his eye, Gareth saw Bertrand creep into the shadows fringing the edges of the hall, hanging on their every word. Nadar sighed but met Gareth's stare without flinching. "When I learned the High Council denied the alliance with Denmar on your say so, I was livid. I left Vale with no plan in 229

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mind other than coming here and confronting you. I suppose I thought to call you out." He gave a humorless chuckle. "Suicide, considering I never could best you sword to sword, even when we were children." A bit of his arrogant sneer returned. "Your mother would probably claim your skills as coming from Iskador on her side, but I'd wager that's more child's tale than fact." He looked away but brought his eyes back to Gareth's a moment later. "As I said, I had no plan in mind. Then, when we were halfway to your gates, I received a missive telling me Prince Alric was to be undefended come the morrow. With it was a map detailing his location. 'Twas as if The Creator himself had shined favor upon my vengeance." He shook his head. "What a fool I was." From the table, Tristam said, "You always were a bit on the dull side, Nadar. Dumb as—" He broke off as Maris kicked him in the shin. Gareth was paying them little mind. He had one question left for his brother. "What about the soldiers who accompanied Alric? Did they rush to his aid?" "'Twas the strangest part of the entire episode," Nadar said. "The commander rushed to the king's side, ready to defend him, and though I can't explain it, I could have sworn I saw one of his own soldiers crack the Kray commander upon the head with the hilt of a sword. After that, the rest of them scattered." Alric came to stand beside them. "How did you know to blindfold me?"

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"'Twas in the message I received. At the time I didn't understand it, but having seen the power you wield..." Nadar glanced down at Alric's hands. "About that," Gareth hesitated, trying to find the right thing to say. Finally he said, "You know Alric's secret now, making you a danger to him." His next words held a tone of warning. "I'm sincere about my wish for peace between us, but if for one moment, you think to use what you know to cause Alric harm—" Nadar held up his hand. "You needn't warn me off. I swear upon my life, I'll breathe not a word of King Alric's abilities to anyone. I'll see that my men say nothing, either." Gareth was about to thank him when Alric surprised them all. "That won't be necessary. Tell whomever you like. I'm through hiding." Gareth couldn't have heard correctly. "Do you realize what you're saying?" Alric nodded. "Many weeks ago, someone I've come to much admire referred to my abilities as a gift. At the time I thought the man daft, but now I'm thinking he may have been right. The Creator gave me these powers for a reason. 'Tis high time I stopped pretending they don't exist." He was stunned to the marrow and so touched that Alric had listened to him, Gareth had no choice save to pull Alric close for a deep kiss. When finally Gareth pulled away, Alric was breathless, Maris was giggling, Tristam was coughing, and Nadar was red with embarrassment. Nadar handed the document back to Gareth. "If you'll excuse me, I think I'll have that bath now." 231

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Gareth nodded and watched his brother go. From the corner of his eye he saw Bertrand slip from his hiding place and quit the hall right after Nadar. Gareth exchanged a slow smile with Alric. "I'd say part one of our plan was a rousing success, wouldn't you?" "Yes, but I'm sorry you were forced to give up Lachlan in the process." Alric's eyes were sad and knowing. "It held a special place in your heart." "Lachlan will always be special but I have a new home now." Gareth trailed one finger down Alric's cheek. "I never thought to say it, but I'm content exactly where I am." Alric leaned toward him and was about to claim another kiss when a loud clearing of the throat distracted them both. "Pardon me for the interruption," Tristam said, "but I think perhaps you should forgo the kisses for now and get on with the rest of the plan." Much as Gareth hated to admit it, Tristam was right. "'Tis indeed time to bait our trap. With any luck, we'll catch ourselves a weasel ere the night falls." **** A scant moment before dusk—just as they were about to dine in Nadar's honor, officially welcoming him and his soldiers to Kray—Jeoffry took Gareth aside. The two men were standing in the passageway just off the main hall, and Jeoffry was watching him closely. "All right, boy. 'Tis time to tell me what you're playing at." "Boy, am I?" Gareth smiled over his choice of words. "Last I looked, I am a king now, not a mere child to be scolded." 232

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"Bah." Jeoffry snorted. "I care not about titles. You were like my own son during your years at Vale, and I still think of you as such." Gareth was touched. "I thank you for that, Jeoffry. 'Tis my hope you know I hold you in the same high regard." "Good. Then perhaps we can skip all the balderdash and you can tell me the real reason why you're conceding your birthright to Nadar." "You've spoken to Nadar, I see." "Yes, only moments ago." Jeoffry folded his arms over his chest. "Now answer my question. Why would you give away something your father willed to you so freely?" "'Twas the only way to earn Nadar's trust." Gareth sighed. "I'm tired of being at war with my own kin. Creator knows I've enough battles to fight with those not of my line." "Denmar," Jeoffry said as if the word was nauseating. "That man is a blight that needs to be dealt with ere he has the chance to spread. I told Nadar as much when Denmar approached him about taking Sonya's hand in marriage. Nadar refused to listen, of course." "Nadar's stubbornness no longer surprises me, but as for Denmar," Gareth's mouth fell into a hard line, "his time is coming, Jeoffry. I promise you that." Jeoffry narrowed his eyes. "You've a plan." Gareth was about to explain when he saw Alric motioning him to the high table. "Excuse me, Jeoffry, but I fear I'm needed." Gareth pointed to the table where Wycaster was sitting with some of the higher ranking soldiers. "Please, take your place. I promise you, all will soon be revealed." 233

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Jeoffry gave a reluctant bow before taking his leave. Girding himself for what was to come, Gareth made his way to the high table. As he stepped into place, Alric called the assembled crowd to silence and then turned them over to Gareth. Clearing his throat, Gareth opened his mouth and spun his tale. "Welcome honored soldiers from the House of Vale. 'Tis with a two-fold purpose I've brought you here. First," he glanced down the table at Nadar, who was watching him closely, "I'd have you know 'tis my intention to seek a lasting peace with my brother's house. From hence forth let it be known that I consider myself a servant to Nadar of Vale." A stunned silence descended, followed by the first whisperings of disbelief. Alric stood by his side, offering his silent support, but all Gareth's attention was focused on Nadar. His brother's face betrayed no emotion whatsoever, but Gareth wasn't surprised. Nadar didn't trust him, and there was no cure for that but time. Hoping fate would sort it out, Gareth went on to the second reason. "I've also called you here tonight to announce my intentions to seek vengeance against Lucien of Denmar, second son of the late Lord Ignatius Denmar. Though Denmar holds not a kingship, he has nevertheless begun a murderous reign of terror and destruction that must be stopped." "Begging your pardon," Tristam said from the other end of the high table, "but how do you propose to stop the man? Short of war, that is." 234

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"A good question, one I'm more than happy to answer." Gareth kept his tone even. "I have in my possession irrefutable evidence against the man. Proof of treason in its highest form." Once again a murmur swept the crowd, this one tinged with fear. High treason—a crime against King Elwin himself— was punishable by no less than torture and death. To have evidence of such was a strong weapon indeed. As Gareth had hoped, Nadar took the bait, speaking up for the first time since the assembly began. "And just how did you come by such incriminating fare, my brother?" "The how of it matters not. All you need know is the proof is solid and secured within a chest in my own chambers until such time as I can deliver it to King Elwin myself. Once that is done, Denmar's days are well and truly numbered." Gareth gave the words a moment to settle over the crowd and then said, "But enough of this talk." He motioned to the servants who were waiting in the wings with trenchers of food and mugs of ale. "'Tis time to eat, drink, and be merry over my brother's presence here tonight." He lifted the goblet a servant had placed beside his trencher. "To Nadar of Vale, long may his reign be." A chorus of agreement sounded across the hall. Gareth was about to drink to his brother's health when Alric tugged on his sleeve. In a low whisper, he said, "Bertrand has left." Gareth set his cup back on the table. "Then we've not a moment to waste." Taking Alric's hand, Gareth gave the order 235

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for the feast to begin and then led Alric away from the high table. Tristam was right behind, following them into the hallway as they strode toward the staircase. "Surely you meant not to leave me out of all the fun?" "You've a twisted idea of fun if you find amusement in this," Gareth said as they made their way up the stairs. "I only hope he's taking the bait." "Only one sure way to find out." Alric topped the landing and pointed ahead to the bedchamber he and Gareth now shared. "After you." Gareth had just stepped onto the landing himself and was waiting for Tristam to do the same when a voice behind them said, "Where do you think you're going? I demand to know what this is about, and now." Gareth turned to see Nadar and Jeoffry coming up the stairs. He stepped aside, allowing Tristam to pass before giving Nadar his full attention. "I've no time for this, Nadar. I've a task I must see to." Gareth tried to move forward again, but Nadar came around him and stepped into his path. "You'll go nowhere until you explain yourself to me. If the pretty speech you gave about being my servant had even a grain of truth to it, then you owe me that much, at least." Gareth gritted his teeth, knowing to lose his temper now would be a grave error, indeed. Swallowing down his irritation, he said, "Come with us, then, but stay out of the way. You'll be able to see for yourself the truth as it unfolds." Nadar's jaw remained stubborn and set. At first Gareth thought he was going to refuse, but after a moment Nadar 236

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nodded and fell into step behind him. Jeoffry took position behind Nadar and the matter was settled, for the moment at least. Gareth exhaled his relief, but the feeling was short lived. They'd arrived at the bedchamber door. Locking eyes with Alric just long enough to receive his husband's tight nod, Gareth shoved the door wide and stepped inside. Bertrand's head whipped around so fast Gareth swore he heard the man's neck crack in complaint. The traitor's eyes went wide as he took in the five men standing in judgment behind him. "Sires." Bertrand bowed low before rising to give polite address to Jeoffry. "Commander." His eyes darted back and forth to take in the lot of them. "What ... what are you doing here?" "A good question, one I should put to you." Gareth crossed his arms over his chest. "How is it you find yourself in my private bedchamber this fine evening?" Bertrand's nose twitched as he searched for a proper answer. Finally, he said, "I've no purpose save to see to your comfort. Yours and King Alric's, that is." He warmed to his topic. "Indeed, I confess I was making certain you had firewood enough to last you the night." "How very thoughtful of you." Gareth leaned against the door frame, keeping his tone light and casual. "You'll have to forgive me if I seem a bit skeptical, considering I don't keep firewood in my bedside chest." Gareth pointed to the open casket on the table behind Bertrand. "I'm not by nature a 237

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gambling man, but if I were I'd wager you were searching for much juicier fare than a stack of dry kindling." Bertrand wrung his hands. "I don't know what it is you're suggesting, Sire, but I pray you'll excuse me, as I have our guests to attend to." Bertrand made a move to quit the room, but Gareth put a stop to that notion, and quick. "Jeoffry, old friend," Gareth said as he stepped further into the room, "would you be so kind as to grant me a boon and search yon Bertrand for evidence of his misdeeds." "'Twould be my pleasure, Sire." Jeoffry's face split into a frightening grin as he reached for Bertrand. Bertrand backed away from the commander, but Alric and Tristam blocked his path. The cornered man fought as Jeoffry grabbed him, but in the end he was no match for the commander's superior strength. Within moments, Jeoffry had stripped Bertrand to the waist and uncovered a piece of rolled parchment that was tucked into the folds of Bertrand's tunic. Holding the paper up for Gareth to see, Jeoffry said, "I take it you know what this is." Gareth gave a grim nod. "Indeed I do. 'Tis the evidence Alric and I fabricated against Denmar and left for good Bertrand here, to find." "Fabricated?" The lone lamp Bertrand had lit when beginning his search of the room gave just enough light for Gareth to see the panic on his face. "What ... what's the meaning of this?" "I've been asking myself the same question." Nadar caressed the hilt of his sword with two twitching fingers. "If 238

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this is some scheme you've concocted to steal my kingdom, Gareth—" "By the saints, Nadar, not everything is about you." Gareth clenched his jaw until it ached. "Every word I said down there concerning you is true. Lachlan is yours, and I pledge myself wholly to the cause of peace between us. The only falsehood I've told this evening concerns Denmar and this manufactured evidence against him." Nadar started to respond, but Alric spoke before he could. "What my husband isn't telling you, Nadar, is that he and I had reason to believe there lives at Kray a traitor, someone devious enough to sell my family's secrets to Denmar. 'Tis this very traitor who made it so easy for you and your men to find me yesterday." Alric took a step closer to where Bertrand was still standing beside Jeoffry. "After the failed kidnapping attempt, Wycaster was fairly certain he knew who the traitor was, but we needed proof positive before we accused Bertrand outright." Gareth watched as Alric's glorious silver eyes filled with a deep sorrow. "How could you do it, Bertrand? How could you betray the House of Kray after everything my father did for you?" "After everything Declan has done for me?" Bertrand's voice took on the shrill quality of a trapped animal determined to go down fighting. "The only reason Declan even tolerated me is because your mother made him." Bertrand's moss colored eyes flashed with anger in the dim light. "I should have been exalted as a member of the royal family. Revered and then married off into a noble house. Instead, Declan kept 239

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me here to be little more than his lackey. Once your mother died, Declan made it plain I was nothing more than a nuisance." He smiled then, a sickly sight. "Ah, but I got even with him and his pretty new wife ere 'twas all over." Gareth went still. "What do you mean by that?" Bertrand shrugged. "I suppose I've no reason not to tell you now. 'Tis a dead man I'll be when you're done with me, anyhow." He folded his hands over his bare belly. "'Tis I who set fire to the tower where Adela was held." Gareth heard Alric take a sharp breath. "You killed Adela?" "Oh yes." Bertrand sounded well pleased with himself. "'Twas my Lord Denmar's idea, but I'm the one who kindled the flame that sent the bitch writhing to her death. And that's not all." His speech was thick with pride. "I took care of Declan as well." "Are you saying you're the reason Declan is dead?" Gareth reached around Jeoffry, grabbing Bertrand by the shoulder and whirling the loathsome creature around to face him. Bertrand gave him a full-toothed smile that made Gareth feel ill. "Actually, the poison I fed him is the true reason Declan is dead, but since it came to him by my hands, I suppose 'tis safe to say I killed the cur." He clasped his hands together in glee. "'Twas the same poison that killed your first husband, King Gareth, or so I understood Lord Denmar to say." He laughed, a crazed sound that cut through the stillness of the room. "There's a certain beauty to it really, knowing that the same poison that killed your love and Alric's father is about to claim you, as well." 240

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Gareth released Bertrand so fast the man stumbled. "What are you talking about?" Bertrand preened like a proud peacock. "'Tis quite simple, really. Before I came up here to destroy your so-called evidence, I slipped a goodly portion of the foul mixture into your wine." He leaned in close to Gareth and lowered his voice to a loud whisper as if the two of them were sharing some great secret. "Take one last, long breath, Gareth of Lachlan. 'Tis a dead man you'll be ere this night is out."

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Chapter Thirteen Later, Alric would remember little of the moments following Bertrand's announcement save for the satisfying crunch of Bertrand's windpipe beneath his fingers as Alric dove on the man and began to choke the life out of him. He could hear Tristam and perhaps even Nadar beseeching him to stop, but Alric was beyond listening. All he cared about was wringing the life out of the man responsible for Gareth's impending demise. Bertrand croaked and sputtered, trying desperately to free himself from Alric's grasp, but Alric gave the villain no quarter. It wasn't until strong, steel-like arms wrapped around his waist that Alric was forced to break his hold on Bertrand's throat. As Bertrand collapsed to the floor and wheezed for breath, Alric turned to fight against the man holding him. It took a long moment of being pressed against an iron-hewn chest for Alric to realize that Gareth was his captor. "Hush, now." Gareth held him tight. "I'm all right, Alric. Listen to me. All is well." Alric shook his head with violent force. "You heard what he said." He struggled to break away. "We must get you to Balthazar." He fastened on the notion, seeing in it a pale spark of hope. "He can heal you. He can—" "'Tis not necessary, Alric." Gareth pulled back enough for Alric to see the truth in his eyes. Holding Alric's face with tender hands, Gareth said, "Bertrand's plan has failed. I didn't drink any of the wine served to me at the feast." 242

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"You're certain?" Alric was afraid to believe. "Positive." Gareth's slow smile was a soothing balm to Alric's frightened soul. "I'm fine, pet. I swear it." "Creator be thanked," he whispered against Gareth's ear as he pulled him close. "I love you." Alric was unable to stop the words from spilling out, but he was beyond caring. "I fear living without you is the one thing I cannot manage." Gareth kissed the side of Alric's throat. "'Tis good to know, because I plan to be with you for long years yet to come." His voice fell to a husky whisper. "I've only just found you. Damned if I'm going to leave you so soon." Alric was about to respond when Tristam interrupted them. "Much as I hate to intrude on so tender a moment," he said, "we've still this pile of refuse to deal with." Alric turned in time to see King Tristam give Bertrand a swift kick in the arse. Bertrand yelped, but remained defiant as ever as he looked up at the five men now looming over him. "Do to me what you wish, but you'll never outsmart my Lord Denmar. By your own words, the so-called evidence you have against him is a forgery. The High King will never back you in a war against the man now." "You're wrong, Bertrand." A new voice spoke from the door, and Alric looked to his left where a pale Wycaster was standing on the other side of the open threshold. Wycaster spared one last disdainful glance in Bertrand's direction before looking to Gareth and Alric. "A messenger has arrived from Stiles, my kings. I believe you'll be most interested in what the man has to say." 243

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Gareth hesitated, prompting Jeoffry to say, "Go ahead and attend your business." His eyes sparkled with a feral gleam. "I'll see that this heap of horse dung makes it to the cells." Gareth nodded. "I am in your debt, Jeoffry." Jeoffry grabbed Bertrand by the scruff of the neck and led him to the door. Wycaster stepped aside so they could pass before falling into step behind them. "I'll go with you, Jeoffry. Perhaps together you and I can persuade Bertrand to divulge more about his crimes." For all his talk of being ready to die for his new master, Bertrand set up a noisy protest as the two commanders led him away. As soon as they were gone, Tristam sank into a nearby chair, his expression an even mix of exhaustion and relief. "I fear I lost a dozen years or more off my life when Bertrand announced he'd poisoned you." Gareth nodded. "'Twas not something I welcomed hearing myself. Indeed, I was halfway on to panic when I realized I'd drunk nothing save a spot of water early this evening." He turned to Alric. "Are you well enough to great the messenger?" "Yes." Alric took a shaky breath. "I'm not certain my heart will ever again beat a normal rhythm, but I'm well enough to hear what Stiles's envoy has to say." His eyes darkened. "First, I must speak with Balthazar. If 'tis true what Bertrand said—if he really did poison my father before trying to do the same to you—the drink he mixed for you must be isolated. Perhaps Balthazar can use the concoction to formulate an antidote of sorts. If nothing else, we can make certain no one drinks from your cup by mistake." 244

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Gareth took his hand. "Let's be quick about it, then." He led Alric to the door but stopped as Nadar stepped into his path. "Not so fast, brother." Nadar watched Gareth closely. "Were you speaking true when you claimed you wanted peace between us?" "Yes." Though Gareth spoke softly, that single word said volumes. "'Tis what I thought. I'll greet this messenger with you, then." Nadar turned on his heel, pausing only long enough to say over his shoulder, "Perhaps what he has to say will hold interest for me, as well." "As you wish." Still holding tight to Alric's hand, Gareth turned to Tristam. "Are you coming?" Tristam gave a weak nod. "I'll be along in a moment—just as soon as I'm certain these trembling legs will hold me." **** Balthazar, having been summoned to the newly emptied hall by one of the servants on Gareth's behalf, held Gareth's cup to his nose and took one cautious sniff. "'Tis difficult for me to say on smell alone, but the scent makes me believe this brew has been laced with tisrocaine powder." Balthazar pulled three small vials from the pouch at his belt. Setting the cup on the table, he uncorked the vials and placed them beside the cup before again reaching for it and emptying the liquid into the tiny bottles. Corking the vessels tight, he handed the cup to Vanick, the young servant assigned to help him. "Take this to the kitchens and plunge it 245

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into the cooking fire until all the liquid has burned away. After 'tis charred black with soot instruct Cook to cleanse it with water and lye till it is scrubbed clean." Vanick nodded his dark head. "I will see it done, Master Balthazar." Balthazar gathered up the corked vials, holding them with infinite care. "I've some herbs in my room that react only when introduced to certain poisons. Through trial and error, I should be able to tell you what Bertrand used." "I thank you, Balthazar." Gareth nodded to the healer from his own place at the head of the table. "I'll be in your debt if you can solve this mystery for us." Balthazar bowed and then turned to go, but Alric—who was seated beside Gareth and had been quietly watching up until then—stopped him. "Balthazar, I've a question for you ere you go." Balthazar turned back around. "Yes, Highness?" "This tisrocaine powder..." Alric faltered over the words. "Could it have been responsible for my father's death rather than the love of strong drink you first thought?" Balthazar swallowed so hard Gareth could hear it all the way across the table, but to the boy's credit, he held his head high as he faced Alric with the truth. "Indeed it could have, Sire. Tisrocaine is so rare, I confess the thought never crossed my mind. If my suspicions are correct," he fell to one knee and bowed his head, "then 'tis my fault King Declan is dead and I should be punished for my negligence." 246

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Alric rose from his seat and crossed the room on stiff but steady legs. He stopped beside Balthazar, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Rise, Balthazar," Alric said in a soft, soothing tone. "If my father was poisoned, 'twill be Denmar and Bertrand who answer for the crime, not you." He pulled a trembling Balthazar to his feet, lifting the lad's chin until the two of them were eye to eye. "You shall hold a place of honor in this house for as long as you want it." He dropped his hand and stepped back, still holding Balthazar's eyes with his own. "Do you understand?" "Yes, Highness." Balthazar took a deep breath. "I'd best be about my tasks." He turned to go but stopped before he'd taken so much as a step. "Do I have your leave to instruct the servants to search Bertrand's quarters? 'Tis possible he's hidden the rest of the poison somewhere in his rooms." Gareth nodded as Alric made his way back to the table. "Well thought, Balthazar. With any luck, we'll also find more tangible proof of Bertrand's connection with Denmar." Balthazar nodded and then left. From the other side of the table, Nadar watched as Alric reclaimed his seat beside Gareth. "What of this messenger from King Stiles?" Nadar draped his hands on his stomach. "Your commander seems to think he has news that could affect your right to wage war against Denmar's house." "He's in the kitchens, refreshing himself from his journey," Tristam said as he came into the hall. Choosing a seat midway between Nadar and Gareth, he offered his apologies. 247

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"Forgive me for taking so long, but after I regained my wits I stopped to share a private moment with my wife." Tristam gave all seated a sheepish grin. "She calms me as no one else can." "I understand." Gareth reached below the table and squeezed Alric's hand. "I'll have the messenger brought in now, and we'll hear what he has to say." "I've already sent for him." Tristam steepled his fingers on the table. "I've also sent for Jeoffry and Wycaster. I imagine they'll want to hear this as well." As if by design, Jeoffry and Wycaster came into the hall. The both of them were wearing grim expressions that gave Gareth pause. "I take it Bertrand had little to say on the subject of Denmar." Jeoffry sighed. "Silent as stone." Wycaster waited until Gareth motioned for he and Jeoffry to join the three kings at the high table before bowing in acquiescence and taking the seat across from Tristam. "We tried everything short of torture to make the man speak but it seems Bertrand fears revealing his secrets more than he fears us." Jeoffry sat down beside Wycaster. "Were I to guess, I'd say Bertrand fears what Denmar will do to him once he learns Bertrand failed in his plot to assassinate you, Gareth. Indeed, a swift execution by Kray's hangman would be preferable to the method with which Denmar has been disposing of his enemies as of late." 248

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"Balthazar believes he knows what poison Denmar has been using," Gareth said. "With any luck, we'll soon have an antidote." Before Jeoffry had a chance to respond, a freckle-faced lad who looked to be no older than Balthazar stepped into the hall and fell to one knee as those seated at the table turned their attention to him. Sweeping the felt cap from his head to reveal a mop of unruly red hair that glowed orange in the flickering light of the hearth-fire, the messenger lifted his face and said, "Greetings, Sires. 'Tis my privilege to bring you tidings from the noble House of Stiles." "So noted." With the crook of his finger, Gareth motioned the boy closer. "Come to the table and deliver your master's message." The lad stuffed the cap back on his head and stepped up to the high table, stopping just in front of Gareth. "Begging your pardon, Sire, but are you the one formerly known as Gareth of Lachlan?" "I am." "Then I'm to give you this." The messenger pulled a sheaf of papers from the fold of his black traveling cloak and handed them to Gareth. Gareth took the papers and placed them on the table in front of him. "Is that all?" The lad shook his head. "My master, the King of Stiles, bade me tell you this: should you decide to act upon the information found in those documents, you have his full backing and will receive the aid of his allies, as well." 249

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"Understood." Gareth pointed over the boy's shoulder to the door leading into the guest chambers. "Go through there and seek out Lynum. He'll be acting as Kray's chief steward now and will show you to a room where you can rest from your journey." "I thank you, Sire." The messenger swept Gareth another bow and then quit the hall. Once the boy was gone, Gareth removed the velvet ribbon tying the papers together and smoothed the wrinkled pages before lifting the top document from the stack. Even after so long a time, Gareth recognized the flowing swirls of Holden's handwriting. He should have felt awkward reading the last writings of a dead man, but the message contained on the first page caught Gareth's attention. Soon he was too engrossed in the reading to care. Tristam coughed. "Do you plan to share this information with us or should we measure what's in that letter by the expression on your face?" "Sorry. I—" Gareth swallowed. "'Tis a letter addressed to me from Holden himself." A hard knot formed in the back of his throat. "I fear I am unable to read this aloud." Alric seemed to understand. Placing his hand over Gareth's, he said, "May I?" Gareth nodded and allowed Alric to take the topmost paper from his slightly trembling fingers. Alric held the paper up to better see it. "My dearest Gareth," he read aloud, "'tis with a heavy heart I write to you this letter. My time is short and I've not the leisure to say all I wish to say, but there is one thing you must know before I 250

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begin this letter in earnest. I loved you, Gareth. The time we spent together was the best part of my life, and when I leave this earth my only regret will be that I destroyed whatever feelings you may have held for me. I've no excuse save that I am a selfish man and crave all the pleasures the flesh will allow me. Too bad that craving cost me your affections." Alric stopped reading and searched Gareth's face. "Are you certain you want me to read the rest of this?" Gareth gave one tight nod. Alric began reading anew. "Sorry as I am, I did not write this letter to beg of you forgiveness. Having seen the love you shared with your Kiel, I know 'twas not my sins alone that drove us apart. You and Kiel were meant to be together and would be still had Denmar not taken Kiel from you. When first I heard the rumors that Denmar was responsible for Kiel's death I was disbelieving. I remember how I taunted you with it. Unfortunately, I found out the truth about Denmar much too late to save myself." A low whistle escaped Nadar's lips. "Is he saying what I think he is?" Alric didn't answer directly, returning to the letter instead. "In case you haven't guessed, Gareth, I'm dying, probably by the same poison that killed your beloved. I've consulted privately with a healer and he tells me I have no hope whatsoever of preserving my life. You may curse me a coward, but I swear this pain is too great for me to withstand. For that reason, I've arranged to have myself a little accident come the morrow." 251

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Tristam sank back in his chair, a dazed look on his face. "Suicide?" Jeoffry cursed. "And with no proof that Denmar actually poisoned Holden, the High King will never endorse a war. Not on hearsay alone." "Fortunately for us," Alric said, "Holden had the foresight to gather evidence. He writes, 'Lest my death be in vain, dear Gareth, you should know the moment I suspected Denmar was poisoning me, I became determined to find out why. I fear I haven't the time to go into the details of how I obtained this information, but as you'll realize when you read it, I found out more about Lucien of Denmar than I ever wanted to know. By intercepting certain private correspondences of his, I've learned that Denmar's plan is to marry Sonya of Vale upon my death and form an alliance with your own father's house. After Sonya says her vows, Denmar will see to it that she lives not long.'" Gareth glanced across the table at his brother. Nadar's face was ashen and he was shaking with rage. "Damn me to the Under Realms." Nadar wiped his sweating brow with his fingers. "I almost condemned my own sister to death." "There will be time enough to berate yourself later, Majesty." Jeoffry crossed his arms over his chest and looked to Alric. "I'm guessing there's more." "I fear there is." Alric took a deep breath before reading on. "After Sonya dies, it is Denmar's intention to play the grieving widower, ensuring he has your brother's complete trust. Denmar will spend his period of mourning at Vale, doing 252

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his best to engage Nadar's wrath against you by filling your brother's head with the notion that you're after his kingdom. When Nadar is sufficiently stirred, Denmar plans to wage war on Kray—with Nadar's backing, of course, and reclaim Alric as his rightful husband. I swear to you, Gareth, I knew nothing of Denmar's marriage to Alric the day I came to see you at Lachlan. By reading Denmar's private papers I've since learned the full truth of their relationship, as well as the truth about the curse Alric carries. According to the documents you no doubt received with this letter, Denmar plans to use Alric's powers to overthrow the High King himself." "So there really is proof of high treason." Wycaster looked as stunned as he sounded. "Denmar must be daft if he thinks to overtake all of Orielle." "Not daft, but mad. Power mad." Nadar's mouth fell into a grim line. "Much as I hate to say it, Denmar's plan does make a certain sense. Had he indeed regained control of Alric ... let me just say that, having seen what you're capable of, Alric, I'd hate to have such a weapon used against me." Gareth came out of his stupor, then, slipping a firm arm around Alric's shoulders. "Denmar will never lay so much as a finger on Alric again. Not while there is a breath left in my body." Tristam nodded his agreement. "A crucial part of Denmar's plan has already failed. Thanks to Gareth's intervention, the marriage to Sonya never took place." "Denmar must have changed his plan when the alliance with Vale was foiled, instructing Bertrand to poison King Gareth, instead." Wycaster cracked the knuckles of his right 253

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hand against his left palm. "What I wouldn't give to wring Bertrand's traitorous neck." "They'll be time enough for vengeance later." Gareth gave Alric's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Finish it." Alric lifted the letter back up to the light. "Enclosed you'll find proof of everything I've said—most of the evidence having been written in Denmar's own hand. It seems he has conspirators aplenty, including two members of the High Council. As far as I know, Denmar has no idea I intercepted his messages ere they had a chance to be delivered. I'm sending all the evidence I have collected—along with this letter—by secret messenger to my father. If all goes as I pray it will, Father will receive this and know what to do with it. And now, sweet Gareth, I must go. Here's praying you find peace and happiness with your new mate. Creator knows you deserve nothing less. With all the love I never showed you, Holden of Stiles.'" Alric slumped in his chair, the paper still clutched in his hand. "That's all of it." He pointed to the stack in front of Gareth. "We've yet to read the proof Holden sent, but I've no doubt we'll find just what he says we will." "Once he sees this, King Elwin will be hard pressed to deny our petition to wage war against Denmar and his allies." Tristam looked from Gareth, to Alric, down to Nadar, and then back to Gareth, again. "We've only to gather our forces and set a plan." "Securing the help of our allies will pose no problem," Nadar said. "No one loyal to King Elwin would dare refuse to 254

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aid our cause. Leastwise, not in light of the evidence against Denmar." "'Our' cause?" Gareth lifted one brow. "Since when do you consider yourself an ally to the House of Kray?" "Sonya is my sister, too." Nadar smacked his hand flat against the table. "I've a right to seek revenge on Denmar for plotting against her, and damned if I won't take it." Nadar's decision to back them surprised Gareth, but he hid the reaction well. "So be it, then." "Drystan is allied to the Kingdoms of Sanique and Meragoth. I've no doubt they'll answer our call to war." Tristam looked to Alric. "What of Hume? Will Rowan stand beside us in this fight?" "Without a doubt." Alric's reply was immediate. "Rowan has been aching to strip Denmar bare for neigh on three years now. When he and Glenna learn the truth of my father's death..." Alric broke off long enough to take a cleansing breath before turning back to Tristam with his mouth set in a thin line. "Rowan will be with us every step of the way." "And what of you, Alric?" Gareth turned in his chair so that he and Alric were face to face. "You once told me you couldn't bear the thought of revenge against Denmar, not if it were because of you. Do you still feel that way?" "This has nothing to do with me, Gareth. After what Denmar did to your Kiel and my father, I'd like nothing better than to kill the man with my bare hands." Alric's fingers knotted into fists. "I'll see Denmar pay or die trying." "And pay he will, though you won't be there to see it." 255

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As he'd known they would, Gareth's words stopped Alric short. "What mean you by that?" Alric's sharp tone— unaccustomed as Gareth was to hearing it—cut through the silence of the room. Gareth had known the moment he spoke he was going to have a fight on his hands, but he refused to back down. The point was too important to negotiate. "Since the day he learned of your powers, you've been Denmar's target all along." Gareth took both of Alric's hands in his, willing him to understand. "Were you to be captured in the heat of battle," he choked over the words but managed to force them out, "not only would he win the day, but your life would be forfeit." Alric shook his head. "You know what I'm capable of. I can help you win this thing." "But at what price to you?" Gareth stroked his thumb against the warm skin of Alric's palm. "I saw what it cost you the day you used your gift to defend us against Winthrop's forces. I'll not put you through that again." Alric opened his mouth, ready to argue, when Tristam spoke up. "Listen to him, Alric. If you go into battle with us, you'll become not only a target but a distraction that could cost Gareth dearly. Are you willing to take that chance?" Gareth knew by the look in Alric's eyes that Tristam had hit on the one point Alric was helpless to argue against. Still not happy about their decision, he pulled his hands away from Gareth and leaned back in his chair. "What, then? I stay here and wait for Denmar to come and attack Kray?" 256

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"He won't get to you, Highness." Wycaster made the words a vow. "Any man who yet tries to take you will be met with the edge of my sword." "Meaning no disrespect, Commander, but my men and I got to Alric easily enough." Nadar spoke matter-of-factly, and Gareth was hard pressed to take offense. "Until we know for sure how far into your forces Bertrand's treachery has reached, it would be foolish to gamble with Alric's safety by leaving him here." "Nor am I willing to trust my wife's safety to an army unknown to me." Tristam grew quiet, seemingly making up his mind. Finally, he said, "I propose you and Maris travel to Drystan, Alric. You'll be safe under the eyes of my own personal guard. And to make sure that Kray is evenly protected in your absence, Nadar and I will each split our forces and leave half the soldiers who accompanied us here. What think you of that idea, Gareth?" Instead of answering Tristam directly, Gareth looked down the table at Nadar. "Were you serious about joining us in this fight?" Nadar swept a two-fingered X over his heart. "By The Creator, I swear it." "Then my thinking is this: Denmar has only two solid allies that I'm aware of. The Houses of Winthrop and Zarendar. On Zarendar's throne sits a piddling king with little help to offer, leaving only Winthrop to contend with. Denmar's forces are strong, but they'll be no match for the likes of Kray, Hume, and Drystan combined." Gareth turned to Wycaster. "Are you strong enough to command our combined armies?" 257

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There was no hesitation on Wycaster's part. "I am." "In that case, I say we take the King of Stiles up on his offer of aid and set him against Winthrop's forces. We'll call on Sanique and Meragoth, as well as Nadar's own allies, only if we have to—say if Denmar brings in some surprise assistance—but otherwise leave them out of the fray so we'll have reserves should the tide of the war turn against us." "That's well and good, brother, but what about me and the remainder of my forces?" Nadar looked none too happy to be left out of the planning. "What would you have us do?" "When Denmar finds out you're backing us, 'tis possible he'll turn his anger on your family. After all, he's already targeted our sister." Gareth's gut clenched. "I won't rest until I know Sonya and Ellyce are under your personal protection." Nadar wasn't ready to give up. "Jeoffry will make certain our sisters are safe and the rest of my family, besides." Gareth shook his head. "I've a more important task for Jeoffry." Gareth looked to his father's old friend. "If you agree to it, that is?" Jeoffry bowed his head in acquiescence. "I am at your service, as well you know." "In that case, I ask that you call up a full legion of Nadar's men and that you and your forces accompany Alric and Maris to Drystan. If Denmar finds out where Alric is, he'll waste no time attacking Drystan, and there's no one I trust to see to Alric's safety more than you, Jeoffry." Gareth shifted his eyes back to the head of the table, then. "Are you agreeable to that, Nadar?" "I am." 258

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"Tristam?" Tristam gave Gareth a firm nod. "Let it be as you say." Gareth turned so that he was once again looking into Alric's eyes. "Alric?" He was quiet so long, Gareth feared Alric wouldn't answer, but finally he said, "I'll abide by your wishes." Not exactly a resounding endorsement, but Gareth would take what he could get. "Gentlemen, it would seem our course is set." Gareth gripped the arms of his chair in a hold that threatened to splinter the wood. "May The Creator of All have mercy on Denmar when I find his filthy hide, because I shall grant the vile scourge no quarter." **** The sun was just beginning to overtake the night sky when Gareth finally adjourned the war council and ventured upstairs. Alric had quit the hall hours ago, and Gareth fully expected to find him asleep in their bed. To Gareth's surprise, Alric was sitting—still clothed—on the stone window seat, watching the dawn as it crept over the dark horizon. "You'll catch your death of cold, sitting there like that." Alric turned at the sound of Gareth's voice. Though he tried to gift Gareth with one of his smiles, it was a thin effort at best. "I haven't been sitting here long enough to freeze. Indeed, I only just returned to our chamber myself."

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Gareth crossed the distance between them, coming to sit beside Alric on the window bench. Alric moved over to accommodate him, and Gareth took Alric's cool fingers in his. "Where have you been? You left the hall so long ago, I assumed you'd be asleep by now." "I might have been, if Balthazar hadn't sought me out," Alric said. "He's identified the poison. Tisrocaine, just as he thought. Not only did Bertrand place a killing dose in your glass, but Balthazar found a decent store of it in Bertrand's rooms. Balthazar's working on an antidote even as we speak." He exhaled, his breath creating wispy swirls against the frigid air. "Too bad his knowledge came too late to save my father." Gareth gave Alric's fingers a tight squeeze. "Denmar and Bertrand will pay for their treachery, Alric. I swear it upon my life." Still holding on to Gareth's fingers, Alric turned so that he was once again gazing out the window. "I don't care what you do to Denmar, but on the morrow, I'm ordering Bertrand be sent to Winthrop. 'Tis King Thaddeus's right to deal with Adela's killer as he sees fit." Gareth could see the merit in Alric's plan, but there was a major flaw they couldn't afford to ignore. "And if Thaddeus refuses to believe Bertrand alone was responsible for Adela's death?" "Then so be it." Alric shrugged. "I fully expect Thaddeus to back Denmar in this war of yours, whether he believes in Bertrand's guilt or not." He sighed. "His hatred has burned against the House of Kray far too long to be so easily assuaged. Even so, I would see that justice be delivered." 260

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"And so it shall." Gareth brought Alric's hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. "At least we know the truth, that you aren't responsible for Adela's death." "Not directly, but I played my part." Alric pulled his knees up to his chest before wrapping his arms around them and tilting his head so that he was looking directly at Gareth. "In truth, we all failed Adela. To sentence one so young to a marriage with a man she despised ... 'tis no wonder Adela sought a way out and damn the cost." Gareth leaned back against the wall, his eyes wide. "Surely you aren't feeling sorry for the bitch? Not after all she did to you and yours." "Not sorry, exactly, but—" Alric shook his head. "Forgive me, Gareth. I fear the prospect of being left behind in Drystan while you and Tristam go charging off has made me a touch melancholy." "Alric, you must understand—" With his free hand, Alric reached forward and pressed his finger to Gareth's lips. "Hush, now. I understand the reasons behind your decision, but that doesn't mean I have to like it." He took a deep breath. "I meant what I said earlier, about my feelings for you. After all that Denmar did to me, I never believed myself capable of falling in love again. The thought of losing you now, after only having just found you—" "That isn't going to happen." Gareth let go of Alric's hand only to take him by the shoulders and pull him in close. Cradling Alric against the warmth of his chest, Gareth said, "I swear to you I'll do nothing so foolish as to endanger my life and jeopardize our future together." He placed a soft kiss on 261

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the top of Alric's head. "I'm coming home to you, pet. On that you have my word." "You can't make a promise such as that." "I can and I will." Gareth stroked Alric's back with sure, comforting fingertips. "I'll return ere you even miss me, and when I do, Denmar will be out of our lives once and for all." Alric sank deeper into Gareth's heat. "I pray you're right." Gareth said nothing, only continued to comfort Alric the only way he could. Gareth knew he and his soldiers would win the day. They must, for the alternative was too unthinkable to ponder.

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Chapter Fourteen Gareth stood on the far side of the lake bordering Denmar's keep, watching silently as the flickering flames reflected off the crystalline surface of the water. There was a certain irony in watching Denmar's home burn—devoured by the same kind of fire the rotten sack of dung had tried to steal from Alric—but Gareth felt little satisfaction as the bright orange tongues lapped at the charred stone structure. The sharp rustle of crisp summer grass alerted Gareth to the presence of someone behind him, but he didn't bother to turn. Gareth knew who it was, and he knew the news wouldn't be good. "Stop hesitating and just say it, Tristam." Tristam came to stand beside him at the water's edge. "My soldiers searched the entire keep ere they torched the place." He sighed. "There was no sign of Denmar, or anyone else for that matter. Indeed, the castle was empty." "You sound surprised." Gareth turned to Tristam with a dark scowl. "I told you Denmar was too smart to allow himself to be caught in his own lair." Gareth spat onto the ground. "All this time, wasted on a fool's chase." "You make it sound as if we've accomplished nothing in the six months since we set out from Kray." Tristam returned Gareth's scowl two-fold. "How can you even think such? Denmar's forces are scattered, his allies defeated, and his strongholds plundered." He wiped sweat from his eyes with sooty fingers. "With the evidence our messengers delivered to 263

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the High Council, Denmar has been publicly marked a traitor. He'll find sanctuary nowhere in Orielle." Gareth wasn't certain of that, not knowing the full wealth of Denmar's cunning, but he didn't say so. He chose instead to focus on the crux of his discontent. "We almost had him at Tretok, but my own miscalculation cost us time, and the whoreson got away." Gareth ground his teeth. "I haven't spent the last six months braving winter snows and spring rains simply to deplete Denmar's resources and slaughter his armies." His voice fell to a low growl. "I want to destroy the man himself—to rend the flesh from his bones with my bare hands." He ran his fingers through his hair, tugging hard. "Damn it all, vengeance should have been mine this day." Tristam tilted his head to the side, studying Gareth's face. "Vengeance I understand, but there's something more driving you. I can feel it." Tristam was right. From the moment they'd started this quest to rid the world of Denmar's miserable existence, Gareth had been nursing a feeling of urgency he couldn't explain. He felt that if they didn't find Denmar soon, something was going to happen, something earthshaking that Gareth would be powerless to stop. Standing there in the dazzling light of the noonday sun, he was unable to put his fears into words. Rather, he settled on an excuse. "Forgive me, Tristam. I fear the time away from home has made me savage."

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"You? Think how I feel." Tristam's lips twisted into a deep frown. "My child must be nigh on three months old now, and never have I seen his face." Gareth arched a brow. "His face? Are you so sure the babe will be a boy?" Tristam shrugged. "A man needs sons to run a kingdom." "And if 'tis a daughter you have?" Tristam sniffed. "A daughter isn't the same as a son, but I suppose I'll make do with what The Creator has given us." "Make do, will you?" Gareth couldn't contain his grin, knowing a whopping falsehood when he heard one. "Ten pieces of gold says if 'tis a daughter you have, the wee princess will have you wrapped around her tiny finger the moment you set eyes upon her." "'Tis one wager I'm smart enough not to take." Tristam leaned over and elbowed Gareth lightly in the ribs. "Come. Let us gather the men and leave this place." He cast a dark glance at the ruined castle. "We've done what we came for, and besides," he continued in a lighter tone, "your Alric is probably languishing without you." Gareth swallowed as they turned from the reedy bank and started up the slope to the hill where their soldiers were camped. "Sending Alric off to Drystan wasn't the best way to kindle his affections." His stomach burned. "He barely looked at me when last we parted." "Upset as he might have been, there's no doubt the man loves you, Gareth." Tristam whacked him on the back as they crested a small rise. "'Tis my turn to make a wager." "Oh?" 265

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"I'll wager twenty pieces of silver that Alric is even now waiting with baited breath for your return." Gareth only nodded as the two of them went together to brief the men. Deep inside, he prayed Tristam was right. **** The journey from Denmar's holding to Drystan should have taken only a fortnight, and would have, had not the weather and a surprise visitor hampered their progress. The first hindrance came in the form of flood-raising storms that forced Gareth and the rest of his damp, miserable company to seek shelter in the nearby Wexlan Mountains. For a solid week, they were forced to wait out the storms. Just when Gareth thought sure he would go mad with the inactivity if it all, the sky cleared and the lot of them were able to depart. Gareth was beginning to believe they'd have a clear course on to Drystan when, on the third day of their renewed journey, the second hindrance presented itself in a way Gareth never expected. He was riding beside Tristam, pushing Merrick hard, when one of Drystan's sentries approached. Gareth took one look at the red-faced, breathless young man and said, "What is it?" "Riders, Sire." The soldier pointed to a spot not far ahead of them. "At least fifty, by my count. They're coming hard and fast." Tristam steadied his mount. "Did you recognize their colors?" "No, but one of the sentries from Kray believes the riders to be from The House of Winthrop." 266

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Gareth swore. "Ride back to the front," he told the sentry, "and ready the men for a coming battle. Instruct them to arm themselves but to do nothing ere I give the signal." As the lad left to do his bidding, Gareth curled Merrick's reins in his fist and turned the horse. To Tristam he said, "I'll alert the back if you'll seek out Wycaster. He's dealt with Winthrop before." Tristam gave a tight nod, and the two of them went to work. In little time, their full contingent had been alerted, and Gareth, Tristam, and Wycaster were sitting astride their horses at the front line, waiting for Winthrop's approach. They didn't have to wait long. Within the hour, a lone rider separated himself from Winthrop's writhing thong, coming to a stop mere feet from Gareth and the others. Dismounting from his horse, the rider dropped the animal's reins and closed the distance between them on foot. When the man was only a stone's throw from Merrick's feet, he fell to the ground in homage. "Rise and deliver your master's message ere my patience wears thin." Not swayed by the show of fealty, Gareth's command came out a harsh bark. The soldier was on his feet in seconds. "'Tis not a message I bring you, Sire, but a request to King Gareth of Kray from his most noble Highness of Winthrop, Thaddeus the King." Gareth cast a glimpse to his left at Wycaster, who only shrugged, and then to his right at Tristam who said, "At least listen to the request." Gareth turned back to the envoy with a single nod. "I am Kray. State your request." 267

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"King Thaddeus requests an audience with you, Sire. Indeed, he asks that you meet him at high noon on neutral ground, halfway between your camp and ours." The envoy bowed his dark head and awaited Gareth's response. "I'm not sure I like this," Tristam said. "Given Winthrop's hatred of Kray, this could be a ruse to seek you out and run you through." "If I may, Sire," Wycaster said, "I propose that you amend Winthrop's terms so that each of you is allowed one guard to accompany you for the meeting. As it happens, I would be most honored to escort you." Seeing the merit in Wycaster's plan, Gareth turned to the envoy. "Tell you master I will meet him only if I am allowed a one-man escort. If Winthrop agrees to the terms, he may signal by turning his standard on its side and waving it high." "As you wish, Sire." With a final bow, the envoy took his leave. A tense wait followed in which the soldiers set a makeshift camp while Gareth, Tristam, and Wycaster stood watch on the front line. A solid hour passed before the Winthrop standard made a sideways trek back and forth across the enemy's first rank. For better or worse, the meeting was set. As Gareth had expected, Tristam was none too happy when the sun at last reached its zenith. "I'm still not certain this is the wisest course to take." "Maybe not but there's little to be done about it now." Gareth unstrapped his sword and handed it to Tristam. "Wouldn't do to greet Winthrop armed, now would it?" He 268

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attempted a smile but could tell it fell flat by the look on Tristam's face. Clapping Tristam on the back, Gareth said, "All will be well. You'll see." Without waiting for Tristam to reply, he started for the place between the camps with Wycaster by his side. "You should have removed your sword," Gareth said as they walked. "Makes you seem hostile to greet Winthrop and his guard fully armed." "In case you haven't noticed, I am hostile." Wycaster set his jaw. "I don't trust this varlet." Neither did Gareth, but rather than fueling Wycaster's worry by saying so, he opted to keep the feelings to himself. Thus the two of them went on in silence until they reached the meeting place. As soon as they got there, Gareth could see a lone man coming towards them. Wycaster must have seen him at the same instant for he turned to Gareth and said, "Surely that isn't Thaddeus, coming out to meet us alone?" "I don't know, but we're soon to find out." Gareth adopted as relaxed a stance as he could manage and then watched the man as he approached. After a moment's study, Gareth had no doubt it was indeed the King of Winthrop coming toward them. He wore the rich clothes of aristocracy and held himself with the unmistakable arrogance of a royal. His graying head was held high and his long-legged steps were sure and quick. He stopped directly in front of Gareth and spoke with a deep, confident tone of authority. 269

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"King Gareth of Kray, I presume." A pair of dark, sharp eyes watched Gareth, waiting for his answer. "I am." Gareth crossed his arms over his chest. "What do you want with me, Winthrop?" Instead of answering, Winthrop glanced at Wycaster. "Tell your man to fall away. What I have to say is for you and you alone." Wycaster opened his mouth to protest, but Gareth held up his hand. "Do as he says, Wycaster. I'll be fine." Wycaster's expression made it plain he didn't like it, but he fell back several paces—far enough to be out of ear shot but close enough that he could offer Gareth assistance if needed. Once Wycaster was in place, Gareth turned back to Winthrop. "Again I ask, what is it you want from me?" "You're rather trusting, to send your guard away as you did." Winthrop's eyes gleamed under the high sun. "What would you do, I wonder, if I attacked you just now? After all, you have neither sword nor dirk to protect yourself with." "I suppose I'd have to settle for killing you with my bare hands." Gareth shrugged. "Dispatching an old man wouldn't be one of my more pleasurable kills, but we all do what we must." Another shrug. "Besides, I owe you a reckoning for sending your men after Alric that day in the valley." His fingers knotted into fists. "I could kill you for that alone." Winthrop threw back his head and laughed. "No wonder Declan chose you for his son's mate. You've got spirit." He grinned. "I wouldn't be as easily defeated as you think, but I admire any man who has the stones to take me on." 270

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"As I'm pretty sure you didn't seek me out for hand to hand combat, I'm thinking the issue of who would triumph over who is moot." "That it is." Winthrop sniffed, his long nose wrinkling in the center. "The King of Stiles paid me a visit some three months past." "Oh?" Winthrop nodded. "He had an interesting tale to spin me regarding his son Holden and Lucien of Denmar." Gareth said nothing, only waited for Winthrop to finish. "I'd already received Alric's delivery, of course." A murderous sparkle lit Winthrop's gaze. "Your husband will be glad to know Bertrand has been dealt with in a most painful way." Gareth knew Alric would find no pleasure in Bertrand's death, but he didn't say so. Instead, he asked what to him was an obvious question. "Does this mean you believed Alric when he wrote to you of Bertrand's guilt?" "No. Leastwise, not at first. When I learned of your plans to wage war against Denmar, I assumed you'd fabricated the story against Bertrand to keep me from casting my lot with Denmar's. Indeed, I was all set to back the man when Stiles came to me, seeking audience." Winthrop scratched at the gray stubble marking his jaw. "Let us say I was most intrigued by the story he spun." He sighed. "Until that moment, I'd been treating Bertrand as something of a guest in my home. How is it the saying goes? The enemy of mine enemy is my friend?" 271

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Gareth curled his lip. "Bertrand was no man's friend save his own. The only reason he allied himself with Denmar to begin with was to pay Declan back for the slights he imagined the man had visited on him." "'Twas what I realized after speaking with Stiles." Though Winthrop kept his head high, his shoulders sagged ever so slightly. "I won't apologize for the attack on the two of you that day. 'Twould be a hollow sentiment. The only excuse I offer is that I believed myself to be avenging my daughter's death." He let free a heavy rush of breath. "All this time, blaming Alric of Kray for Adela's murder when Bertrand was at fault." Gareth felt for Winthrop and all he'd lost, but he wasn't going to allow the man to gloss over the truth. "Adela played her part. She wouldn't have been in that tower to begin with had she not betrayed Alric to Denmar and tried to take her own husband's life." "Do you think me such a fool that I don't know it?" Anger flashed across Winthrop's flushed face. "Creator knows my daughter was no saint, but to die that way..." He swiped at his brow with two fingers. "She deserved better." Gareth believed Adela had gotten exactly what she deserved, but he kept that opinion to himself in deference to Winthrop's grief. "You still haven't explained why you sought me out." "Word has it you've conceded your birthright to your brother, Nadar of Vale." Winthrop said the words as if he thought Gareth daft. "Indeed, I understand that you now consider yourself as being in Vale's service. Is this true?" 272

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"It is." Winthrop's thin gray brows disappeared into his hairline. "Even after Nadar kidnapped your husband in a plot to kill you?" "Nadar holds certain information that could be damaging to Alric." Gareth saw no reason to lie, not when Winthrop probably knew the truth already. "'Twas either pledge myself to my brother's service in a bid to keep him quiet, or kill Nadar for fear he'd spread the truth if I didn't. I consider myself a hard man, but not even I have the stomach for slaughtering my own kin." "Then Denmar's allegations were true. Your husband really does wield the power of the flame." Gareth nodded. "I'm surprised Denmar told you. I assumed he'd keep Alric's secrets for fear you'd want to harness Alric's powers yourself." "Letting free with the truth about your husband's abilities was a key part of Denmar's plan to build an alliance with me. He wanted me to believe Alric was responsible for Adela's death so I'd turn against Kray and throw in with him. Denmar led me to believe Alric murdered Adela because she threatened to expose him." Winthrop sighed. "Like an idiot, I fell for it." "If you know of Alric's powers then you know why I ceded Lachlan to my brother and pledged myself to Nadar's service. If word of Alric's gift spreads to all of Orielle, I'll be hard pressed to keep my husband safe." Gareth's stomach gave a hard turn at the thought of someone taking Alric from him again. "Alric says he no longer cares whether the world learns 273

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of his gift or not, but I'm unwilling to risk his safety. If I have to lick Nadar's boots to protect my mate then so be it." A look crossed Winthrop's craggy face that might have been admiration. "Which brings us to the reason I sought you out. I will never get over the loss of my only child," he flinched as if in pain, "but I am man enough to admit the part I played in Adela's demise. If I hadn't forced her on Declan as I did—" he broke off and looked away, though not before Gareth noticed the sheen of moisture in his eyes. Winthrop took a short moment to compose himself and then turned back to Gareth with renewed fire. "Because of my own foolish pride, I failed to keep my daughter safe, but you've a chance yet to protect your Alric. Denmar sent me a missive as soon as he learned of your plans against him. He knows you've sent the information Stiles provided you to the High King, but he isn't overly worried because he has strong connections with the Council." Winthrop wasn't telling Gareth anything he didn't already know. "If you've spoken to Stiles then you know that Holden already alerted us to the presence of two traitors on the High Council." "Unfortunately for you and your cause, Denmar's power reaches further into the Council than Holden of Stiles knew. Fifteen councilors currently sit at the High King's table. According to Denmar, at least eight of those are in league against Elwin." Winthrop's voice fell, his tone grave. "'Tis an overthrow they're after."

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Given the High King's reputation for being a fierce warrior, Gareth knew nothing short of killing Elwin could make him relinquish his throne. "We must alert the High King at once." "I'm on my way to Banning as soon as we're done here, but I wanted you to know what was happening. Though I no longer aid Denmar's cause, it seems he has men enough ready to take up his cry, making him a serious threat." Gareth shook his head. "We've depleted his forces and plundered his stores. 'Twould be impossible for Denmar to come back against us at this point." "Don't you believe it." Winthrop snorted. "'Tis impossible for a man to shoot fire from his fingertips as well, or so they say. Guard your back, Gareth of Kray, and may The Creator keep you safe." With no more farewell than that, Winthrop turned and took his leave. Tristam came out to meet Gareth and Wycaster as they made their way back to camp. "Well? What did Winthrop want?" "It seems Denmar's treachery reaches further than we thought." Gareth repeated what Winthrop had said, unsurprised to see hot tongues of outrage flickering in Tristam's eyes. "Damn Denmar to the Under Realms and back." Tristam pounded his fist into his hand. "Is there no end to the man's cunning and deceit?" Gareth didn't answer, knowing one wasn't expected. Instead he said, "The question now becomes, do we take Winthrop at his word when he says he's going to Banning to 275

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notify the High King, or do we send our own messenger to warn Elwin of the dissension in his ranks?" "I'm not inclined to believe anything Winthrop says." Tristam looked to Wycaster as the three of them resumed walking back to the soldiers. "What say you? Living at Kray, you have more knowledge of Winthrop than either one of us." "By all accounts Winthrop is an honorable man." Wycaster hesitated. "Given the hatred he bears for King Alric, I'm loath to trust him, but I'd say we have little choice at this point. We can't go to the High King without proof." Tristam sighed. "Then there's nothing to be done but wait and see whether or not Winthrop will keep his word." As they came upon the slight rise where their men awaited them, he said, "What say you we quit this place and head on to Drystan?" He grinned. "Not to be lewd, but I fear I've an itch that only my wife can scratch." He looked to Wycaster. "I dare say there's a spare wench or two round and about the castle proper who'd be only too glad to share with you their ... charms." To Gareth's astonishment, Wycaster's face actually turned crimson with a full blush. Gareth couldn't help it. The sight of steadfast Wycaster blushing like a spring maid was too much, and he let loose with a full belly laugh. Wycaster crossed his arms over his chest and sniffed. "'Tis glad I am to know my discomfort brings you such mirth." Gareth clapped him on the back, a wide grin splitting his face. "'Tis the first laugh I've had in days, and grateful for it I am." He straightened. "Now let us do as Tristam says and be 276

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on our way. There is only one man who can calm the disquiet shrouding my heart. I fear I shall not rest easy ere I see him." **** Alric found Maris in the nursery, tears rolling down her pale cheeks as she paced back and forth across the floor whilst patting the wailing babe in her arms. As soon as Alric stepped into the room, Maris caught sight of him and her pained features creased with relief. "Thank The Creator you're here, though I was beginning to fear you'd never come. It seems like ages since I sent the nurse to fetch you." Maris stopped patting long to wipe away the wetness on her cheeks. "I've been trying for nigh on an hour to get her to sleep with no success." She crossed to where Alric was standing and handed him the crying infant. "You're the only one who can calm her when she gets like this." "Only because you're so nervous Calla can feel it." Alric tucked the red-faced little girl into the crook of his arm. "There, now." He rubbed her tense belly through the swaddling, smiling when the babe hiccupped. Beside them, Maris hovered like a wild-eyed hawk. "Is she all right?" Maris clasped her hands to her chest and frowned. "Should I fetch the healer?" "'Tis only an upset stomach, Maris." Alric steadied the squirming bundle and then made his way to the chair by the window. He cast Maris a patient smile and sat down. "All babes get them." He lifted little Calla onto his shoulder and 277

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rubbed her wee back. "Calla's going to be fine, but in truth, 'tis you I'm worried about. You haven't stopped fretting since the moment Calla was born." "How can I not? You can see for yourself how small she is." Maris came to stand by Alric's chair, staring down at the little girl as if she were the most precious thing ever to draw breath. "The world is such a vast, dangerous place." Her fingers brushed the dark down atop the babe's head. "What kind of mother would I be were I not to yearn for my daughter's safety?" "There's a difference in wanting to keep Calla safe and making yourself sick with worry each time she cries." Alric looked up to study Maris's drawn face. "When last did you sleep?" "Yesterday." She paused, thinking. "The day before, perhaps?" Maris straightened with a sigh. "With all honesty, I don't remember. Between Calla's crying all the time and Tristam's absence..." She trailed off, her gaze settling on the darkened window. "Seven months, Alric. Seven months our husbands have been gone with nary a word." She twisted her fingers into the shimmering fabric of her gown, wringing the material with absentminded malice. "We should have heard something by now." Alric wanted to reassure her, but his own fears choked down any comfort he might have offered. Gareth's beloved face flashed into his mind, and he swallowed hard against both a wave of longing and a wash of fear that something awful had indeed happened. 278

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Without realizing it Alric tensed, causing Calla to shriek in protest. He brought the babe again to the curve of his arm and rocked her gently back and forth. "Sorry, love." He smoothed his free hand over her now-relaxed belly and smiled when Calla ceased crying and let out a sleepy yawn. "You see, Maris? Calla is fine, and I'm willing to wager Tristam is as well." Alric threw as much conviction as he could muster into the last statement, deciding at that moment to stay hopeful until he was given reason not to be. Maris looked away from the window then, her eyes settling on her daughter. "All is truly well, you think?" "Yes, I do." Alric continued to rock Calla as her dark blue eyes closed and then popped open again. Lowering his voice, he said, "Why don't you grant both Calla and yourself a boon by retiring to your chamber and trying for sleep?" Maris was shaking her head before Alric even finished. "I couldn't. What if Calla wakes during the night and needs me?" "Should Calla wake, her nurse will see to her needs." Alric reached out as far as he could without disturbing Calla and took Maris's cold hand into his. "You're near done in with exhaustion. You'll do neither yourself or this babe any good if you don't get some rest." He smoothed his thumb over Maris's tense fingers. "You must do this, Maris, if not for yourself or Calla, then for Tristam. How will he feel, I wonder, if he comes home to find his wife has taken ill?" Maris remained silent. Alric thought at first she was going to argue. After a long moment, she surprised him by nodding her head. "You are right, but I don't feel comfortable leaving 279

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Calla until I know the ache in her belly is well and truly gone. Perhaps if I stay with her just until she falls asleep—" "I'll stay." Alric cut into her excuse with ease. "I'll hold Calla until she drifts off and then I'll place her in the cradle myself." "You're certain 'tis no bother?" "No bother at all." "And you'll instruct the nurse to wake me should Calla have need?" "Yes." "But what if—" "Maris, enough." Alric gave her fingers another gentle squeeze. "If 'twill make you feel better, speak with the nurse yourself on your way out and let her know she should fetch you the moment there's reason for concern. After that, I implore you to rest before you drive yourself and this babe quite mad." "Again, you're right." Maris pulled free her fingers and leaned down to place a kiss on Calla's soft head. "Sleep well, my beautiful girl." Next Maris kissed Alric's cheek. "Thank you, my new and most wise brother. If not for your company and support these past seven months, I don't know what I would have done." "You're welcome. Now be off before you find reason to change your mind." Finally Maris gave in, and with a last darting glance at her child, turned and left. As soon as the door closed behind her, Alric breathed a sigh of relief. 280

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"Your mama is going to spoil you beyond reason," he told the still half-awake child. "Even so, The Creator could have chosen none better than Tristam and Maris to raise you." He slid the tip of his finger over the button of the babe's nose. "Just you wait until your father and your Uncle Gareth lay eyes on you. The two of them will be as besotted by you as the rest of us are." As if she knew just what Alric was saying, Calla cooed and brandished her tiny fists in the arm, her right hand latching onto Alric's finger. Smiling, he watched as she enfolded him in a tight grip. "Should we have ourselves a story, then?" He tucked Calla's blankets tight around her and leaned back in his chair. "Something about a valiant knight, you say?" Calla blinked up at him with heavy eyes and Alric laughed. "You're an easy audience. All kings should have such a loyal following." As Calla fit her left hand to her mouth and began to suckle on the closed fist, Alric spun his tale. "Once upon a time there was a dark price, a man of secrets who lived in a world of shadows. The prince ... he was cursed, you see, and forced to live in a black tower surrounded by fierce, winged dragons and high walls of scorching flame. Many had tried to rescue the prince, but among those brave enough to make the attempt, not one held the key to unlock the chamber of his imprisonment." Calla's eyes fluttered, and Alric smiled down at her as he continued the story. "Indeed, the prince had long since given up hope of being rescued when a courageous knight from a far kingdom arrived to set him free." He resettled Calla as the 281

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babe drifted into slumber, his voice droning a soothing cadence. "The knight was pure of heart and fair of face, with eyes the deepest shade of blue and hair as gold as the sand that borders the Reveca Sea. His name was Sir Gareth, and with a wicked sword and a noble soul he slew the dragons surrounding the prince's tower and quenched the wall of flame with nothing more than a quelling glance." Hearing Calla's first soft snores, Alric rose on careful feet. With Calla held tight in his arms, he crossed to the cradle on the far side of the room and lay her down atop the silk coverlet. She gave a single wail and opened one eye in clear irritation. Chuckling, Alric settled the blankets around her and said, "Want me to finish the tale, aye?" He feathered his fingers over her smooth cheek. Using an even, soothing tone, Alric picked up where he'd left off. "Once yon knight defeated the dragons and put out the fire, he beat a straight path to the prince's tower. As there were no stairs, Sir Gareth was forced to climb the tower brick by brick. The journey was treacherous and the tower walls were steep, but finally Sir Gareth reached the single, wide window at the top of the tower. Climbing through, he ambled to his feet and made his way to the secret room where the prince was kept. Sir Gareth then pulled from his purse a magical key. He fit it into the lock and..." Alric trailed off as he realized Calla was fast asleep. "You can't stop now," came a velvet voice from behind him. "Not when you've only just come to the exciting part." 282

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Alric turned so fast he almost lost his footing, but he barely noticed the discomfort as his knee came in jarring contact with the table on the other side of the cradle. He only had eyes for the man standing in the doorway. Gareth's eyes were bloodshot and his face—what Alric could see of it through the dense covering of golden beard— was ruddy from too much sun, but to Alric he'd never looked better. Heart thundering in his chest, Alric walked toward him with slow steps, half afraid if he blinked he'd realize it was all a dream. He wasn't aware he'd spoken the thought aloud until Gareth said, "'Tis no dream, my own, though The Creator knows you're a more inviting sight than any vision my mind could have conjured." Gareth closed the distance between them but stopped just short of touching Alric, pinning him with his eyes, instead. "When last we parted, you were barely speaking to me." The dark blue circles flickered with concern. "Am I well met, Alric?" Alric reached out with one finger, tracing Gareth's lips in a whispery caress. "You are." Gareth gathered Alric into a crushing embrace and held him tight. Inhaling deeply of Alric's hair, he said, "Saints, but I've missed your smell." He pulled back and took Alric's head in his hands, tilting his face up for a full, breath-stealing kiss. Alric's mouth opened under the assault, taking Gareth inside as he'd been longing to do these seven months past. Soon they were lost in one another, lips, hands, and 283

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everything in between becoming joyfully reacquainted. It wasn't until a soft snuffling wafted from the cradle that they broke apart. Unwilling to lose contact with Gareth for even an instant, Alric took his hand and the two of them walked to the cradle together. Gareth looked down at the babe, a broad smile forming under the thick cover of his newly grown mustache. "So tiny." He glanced back to Alric. "I heard you say Calla. 'Tis a girl, then?" Alric nodded. "Named for Maris's mother." He tilted his head to the side. "How long were you standing there watching us?" "Long enough to know you'd make an incredible father." Gareth gave Alric a long, lingering look that heated his blood before turning his attention back to the sleeping infant. "I don't think I ever realized just how small these things are." He laughed as Calla snorted in her sleep. "If I didn't know better, I'd swear this was Tristam's natural child. She snores as loud as her father." "Where is Tristam?" Alric was suddenly struck with the fear that something might have happened to the man. "I assumed he'd beat a path straight to the nursery. Is all well with him?" "Tristam is fine. More than fine, I imagine." Gareth laced his fingers through Alric's and pulled him away from the cradle. "Let us continue this discussion in the hall lest we wake Calla." Alric followed him from the room, stopping only to pull the door closed behind them. Once in the antechamber, Alric 284

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acknowledged the waiting nurse and then he and Gareth stepped into the hall. No sooner had they entered the darkened passage than Alric found himself pressed against the cool stone wall. Caging Alric with his body, Gareth leaned in for another slow, lingering kiss. Not until Gareth took a brief respite for air did Alric manage to ask his question anew. "Gareth, where is Tristam?" "Hmm?" Gareth nibbled at the edge of Alric's lips. "Oh, Tristam." He licked a path down Alric's neck, his whiskers teasing and tickling until Alric thought he'd go mad. "He's fine. Reacquainting himself with his wife, I suspect." The last Gareth said against the base of Alric's throat, the statement a low rumble that made Alric shiver. "How ... oh, that's nice. How did you know where to find me?" "Passing servant." Gareth's hands slid round to cup Alric's backside. "Told us you were putting the babe to sleep, which is why Tristam went to find Maris first." How Gareth managed to talk and do that at the same time was a mystery to Alric, who was barely managing to piece together a coherent sentence as Gareth plied the column of his neck with lips and tongue. Still, there were questions that had to be answered. "Gareth, what of Denmar?" Gareth didn't pause the tender assault. "We'll speak of that later. Where's the room you're using?" 285

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"Down..." Alric gasped as Gareth's hand moved from his buttocks and came around to grasp his growing cock. "Down the hall." "Praise the saints it isn't far." Gareth pushed away from the wall, dragging Alric with him on a mad flight down the corridor. "Which door?" "Last one on the left side." Alric struggled to keep up with him. "What of our allies? How did they fare?" "Later." Gareth reached Alric's room, swinging the door open with a swift kick before pulling Alric inside. Alric was just before asking another question when Gareth pulled him back into his arms, causing Alric to lose both the desire and the ability to talk at all. **** Gareth woke from the best sleep in recent memory to find the bed beside him empty. Blinking his sleep heavy eyes against the light spilling through the high window on the other side of the room, Gareth surveyed the length of the bedchamber until he found what he was looking for. "You're already dressed." From the chair where he was sitting and pulling on his boots, Alric cast Gareth a heart-stopping smile. "With good reason. 'Tis morning, in case you haven't noticed." "Come back to bed and we'll pretend it isn't." Alric finished putting his boots in place before coming across the room and perching on the edge of the bed. "I fear I'm too tired for what you have in mind." He shifted to the 286

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side, wincing at the twinge that slight movement caused. "Too tired, and a might too sore." Gareth propped himself on one arm, concern chasing away the last fringes of sleep. "Did I use you overmuch last night?" Alric was quick to shake his head. "You did nothing to me I wasn't sincerely longing for." He reached out his hand, his fingers ghosting over the coarse hair of Gareth's beard. "You need a shave." "You mean you don't like it?" Gareth pretended offense. "And here I grew it just for you." "Liar." Alric ran one finger over the bridge of Gareth's nose with a cheeky grin. "You grew it because you were too busy pursuing our enemies to spend time on such a trivial thing as removing your beard." He sobered. "The night is over, Gareth. We must talk of this thing." Gareth sighed, knowing Alric was right but wanting desperately to avoid the truth. Finally, he said, "Denmar escaped." Alric didn't seem surprised. "The man is more cunning than you credited him with. I told you he'd not be easily captured." "I know, but damned if I wasn't hoping to murder the monster with my bare hands." Gareth sat up, allowing the covers to pool in his lap. "We plundered his stores and laid waste to his lands, but the varlet himself was nowhere in sight." "And what of our own men?" "We lost few of our troops and had no reason to rely on our reserves. Indeed, none of Denmar's allies came to his rescue." 287

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"Not even Winthrop?" "Therein lies the surprising part," Gareth said. "Not only did Winthrop offer Denmar no aid, but the man himself intercepted us on our way back to Drystan. Winthrop begged a private audience with me." Alric's eyes went wide. "You must be jesting." Gareth shook his head. "It seems The King of Stiles paid Winthrop a visit and explained that Denmar had robbed them both of their children. I hate Winthrop for what he tried to do to you." He took Alric's hand in his. "I truly do, but after listening to him, I actually felt sorry for the man." "There's no sin in compassion. Winthrop's lost as much as we have." Alric released a slow breath. "At least the weight of Adela's death has been lifted from my shoulders." "About that..." Gareth locked eyes with Alric. "Bertrand's dead. As I understood it, Winthrop killed him the moment he realized Bertrand had murdered Adela." Gareth was afraid at first that Alric would feel guilty for sending Bertrand to his death, even after everything Bertrand had done. To his relief, he saw nothing in Alric's eyes but quiet acceptance. After digesting the news, Alric said, "Was that all Winthrop wanted?" "No. It seems over half the High Council is working with Denmar on a plot to overthrow King Elwin." "So it really is Elwin's seat that Denmar seeks." Alric whistled. "Next we know, Denmar will be hatching a plot to take over not just Orielle but the entire known world." 288

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"Not if I can help it. Winthrop claims he has proof of Denmar's intent. Winthrop's on his way to Banning to speak with the High King, or so he says." "You don't believe him?" "Don't trust him is more like it, but with no proof all we can do is wait this thing out. If Winthrop doesn't honor his promises, word will get back to us and we'll decide what's to be done about it. Until then, there's no sense borrowing trouble." "Aren't you the wise one." Alric brought Gareth's hand to his mouth and kissed the back of it. "You're always thinking ahead." Gareth's stomach gave a low grumble. "Right now I confess my only thought is breakfast." He leered at Alric and then winked. "Well, perhaps 'tis not my only thought." "As I'm hungry, too, I'm afraid your other thoughts will have to wait." Alric let go of Gareth's hand before rising to his feet. "Want me to wait while you dress and then scrape that fur from your cheeks?" "Go on ahead. I'll meet you downstairs in a moment." Alric leaned down to press a soft kiss to Gareth's lips and then left Gareth to his morning ablutions. Unwilling to be away from Alric a moment longer than he had to, Gareth made quick work of it, shaving and dressing in record time. Leaving the bedchamber behind, Gareth headed downstairs. Jeoffry was waiting for him on the second-story landing. "There you are. I thought you intended to laze about the bed all day." 289

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"I might have, had I not been so damned hungry." Gareth made a face. "Eating little more than stale bread and dried venison for nigh on seven months whets a man's appetite." "At least you saw some of the fight." Jeoffry made a face. "Drystan's been quiet as a tomb since we arrived." "You say that as if it's a bad thing." Gareth studied Jeoffry with care. "What's bothering you, old man?" "Denmar is a worthless scourge, but he's a warrior first and foremost. As a strategist, he's nothing short of brilliant." Jeoffry crossed his arms. "Were I in his place, I would have mounted a surprise attack on Drystan and taken King Alric ere the bulk of your forces returned." "All that I've seen indicates Denmar isn't strong enough to take Drystan on, especially since we've depleted his forces." Gareth said it with no small amount of satisfaction. "Perhaps we have him running scared." Jeoffry snorted. "If you believe that, I've a one-legged carthorse I'd like to sell you." His eyes flashed in the light spilling from the landing's only window. "Denmar is plotting something. You can mark my words on that." Gareth believed him, but until they found Denmar their hands were tied. "Come down to the hall and break your fast with me. A good meal will go a long way toward quelling your fears." Jeoffry shook his head. "I want to brief the men who accompanied you and King Tristam to Denmar's holding. Perhaps I can glean some idea of what Denmar is planning from the details they give me." 290

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"On that, I wish you luck." Gareth clapped Jeoffry on the back and continued down the stairs toward the hall. The enticing smell of roast pork wafted through the arched door as Gareth entered the private hall reserved for family and honored quests. Unlike the massive main hall used for feasts and gatherings, this room was smaller and more intimate, with richly woven tapestries and family portraits lining the walls. A square oak table surrounded by low, polished benches sat in front of the stone hearth. It was there Gareth found Alric, waiting for him. "I thought I told you to go ahead and start without me." Alric shook his head over his untouched plate. "What fun is to be had in eating alone?" He waited until Gareth was seated across from him and had been served with a steaming trencher of his own. Alric then broke a chunk from a thick loaf of brown bread and took a healthy bite. Gareth delved into his own meal, enjoying the combined tastes of tender pork and boiled eggs. He and Alric ate in companionable silence, and it wasn't until Gareth pushed his near-empty trencher away that he again spoke. "Saints but I'm full." "'Tis no wonder considering all you ate." Alric pushed his own half-full trencher aside. "You must have been starving." "I was. More so from my reunion with you than anything else." Gareth waggled his brows. "Care to rekindle my hunger?" "Not while I'm still recovering from our previous escapades." Alric swung his legs over the bench and 291

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stretched. "I half expected Tristam and Maris to join us this morn." Gareth snorted. "I didn't. Between reacquainting himself with his wife and getting to know his new daughter, Tristam is going to be well occupied for the next few days." "I'm sure you're right." Alric rose and then walked over to the hearth. He gestured to the portrait above the mantel. "Tristam's father, I take it?" Gareth nodded. "I never met him, but by all accounts he was a just and fair king. Tristam has always said his father would have welcomed me as Kiel's mate." "Speaking of Kiel..." Alric pointed to the portrait to the right of the fireplace. "Is that him?" "Yes. 'Twas painted just after we returned from our wedding trip." Gareth smiled, remembering. "One of the artisans at Lachlan painted it for me." "Lachlan?" Alric turned to face him. "How did it end up here?" "After Kiel died, I went through a period where I couldn't stand to be reminded of him. 'Twas simply too painful." Gareth stood and stretched much as Alric had done a moment ago. "I had the portrait sent here so it wouldn't be a constant reminder of my grief." "And now?" "Now I see it only as a fitting tribute to a good and loving man." He came to stand in front of Alric. "There is no pain when I look upon the portrait, not anymore. I'll always carry with me memories of the past, but 'tis with a hopeful heart I look to the future." 292

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"I'm glad to hear that." Alric reached for his hand and was about to say something else when a horn sounded and shouts rang from outside. Before Gareth could investigate the source of the commotion, Jeoffry came bounding down the stairs, his face flushed. "Riders are coming." Jeoffry missed the last step in his haste and hit the landing with a jarring thud. He wasted no time in righting himself, coming to stand before Gareth and Alric. His body vibrated with tension. "These riders ... How many are there?" "I estimate fifteen, but their number is not what gives me cause for concern." Jeoffry took in a deep wealth of air. "The outrider waves the Standard of the Gryphon." "King Elwin's personal seal?" Gareth exchanged an uneasy glance with Alric. "Could it be a summons, then?" "There's only one way to find out." Alric cast his eyes on Jeoffry. "Instruct the servants to rouse Tristam and prepare the household for guests. Tristam, Gareth, and I will meet our visitors at the gates and make them welcome." Jeoffry bowed low before leaving to do as ordered. In little time, Tristam joined them downstairs and then the three of them were on their way to the stables with Jeoffry following behind. There the four of them saddled their mounts and then rode for the gates. Tristam reined his stallion into the lead with Gareth and Alric flanking him on either side. "I don't like this. Elwin wouldn't have sent his personal standard were something not amiss." 293

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"Perhaps he wants only to send word of the evidence against Denmar." But even as he said it, Alric's voice was filled with doubt. For his own part, Gareth remained silent, unwilling to speculate. He said not a word until they were at the castle wall, and then he said nothing more than, "Open the gates," to the watch commander. The iron gates swung inward as the riders from Orielle approached. The standard bearer urged his horse to the side, allowing what appeared to be the chief messenger to take the lead. The man, a seasoned soldier from the look of his weathered face, quit his horse before bowing low to the ground. "Greetings, most exalted Majesties. I am Herzl, chief scribe and messenger to the Highest of Kings, King Elwin." At Tristam's signal, Herzl straightened. "'Tis he who bade me issue this summons to King Gareth of Kray." "A summons." Gareth didn't like the sound of that, and judging by the look on Alric's face, neither did he. "A summons in regard to what?" Herzl took two steps closer. "Perhaps this will answer Your Majesty's question." From the folds of his garment, Herzl brought forth a sealed velum scroll and passed it up to Gareth with bony fingers. Gareth broke the seal and unrolled the document. He cursed when he realized just what he was reading. "What does it say?" The question came from Tristam, who was in the process of sidling his horse closer so he could read over Gareth's shoulder. 294

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Gareth handed Tristam the parchment to read before turning his attentions on Alric. "I'm to report to Banning three months hence." Alric swallowed. "For what reason?" "To answer charges of treason and attempted murder, and to bear witness to a petition on Denmar's behalf for a reinstatement of his marriage to you." Gareth leaned over Merrick's back and spat on the ground. "It seems Denmar isn't done with us yet."

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Chapter Fifteen Under normal circumstances, the journey to Banning would have been a pleasant one. Unlike the overgrown paths and steep trails leading from Drystan to Kray, the road to Banning was well traveled. Though it was a full five weeks journey, a host of villages dotted the path, meaning they could pass the occasional night in an inn and eat hearty tavern fare rather than living off whatever wild game the soldiers caught. Indeed, with the summer heat having given way to an early autumn breeze, Gareth would have counted it a blessing to spend five weeks traveling with Alric were it not for the specter hanging above their heads. On the evening of the eighth day, the entire company— including the five hundred soldiers they'd brought for protection's sake—stopped in a grassy field through which ran a bubbling, clear water creek. As Wycaster and the men he commanded went about the work of making camp and watering the horses, Gareth handed Merrick off to one of the young squires and sought Alric out. Gareth found him on the far side of the stream in a heated argument with Tristam. Gareth stayed safely behind the tree line, out of sight but close enough to hear what they were saying. "I'm telling you, it's the only way." "And I'm telling you, you're a fool if you even think to do this thing." Tristam's face was red with anger and frustration. "Do you honestly believe Gareth will allow you to hand yourself over to Denmar like some human sacrifice?" 296

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"I'll argue this no longer. My mind is made up, and there's nothing you can do to stop me." Alric turned his back on Tristam and then stalked away. "So he means to let Denmar have his way, does he?" Gareth stepped out from his hiding place, scaring Tristam near to death. "Would you please make a noise next time so I'll know what you're about?" Tristam lay one hand over his heart. "Saints, but you gave me a fright." "Not half as frightening as the notion of Alric throwing himself into Denmar's hands." "You don't sound surprised." Tristam watched Gareth closely. "You've been expecting this." It wasn't a question. "Since the moment I received the summons." He managed a thin smile. "Seems my husband believes he has to save me from myself." "This is serious, Gareth. Alric is suggesting suicide." "Relax, Tristam." Gareth clapped him on the back. "All will be well." "You say that as if you've a plan." Gareth shook his head. "'Tis not a plan, exactly, but I believe that what I have to say will change Alric's mind." Tristam eyed him with open skepticism. "What could you possibly tell Alric that he doesn't already know?" "The truth, Tristam." Again, Gareth smiled, this time with more sincerity. "Nothing more than the bald truth." ****

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Alric sat just outside the forest bordering their camp. He was perched on a downed log, counting the stars. It was well after midnight, and he'd managed to avoid Gareth for most of the evening. The sight of Gareth—the beloved face he would soon have to forsake for all time—was a pain Alric could scarcely endure. "Contemplating your escape?" Gareth sat down beside him. "I didn't hear you come up." It was a trifling thing to say, but better than focusing on the matter at hand. "Of course not. You were too busy making plans to hand yourself over to Denmar." Alric turned, his swiftness causing the old log to groan beneath them. "You were spying on my conversation with Tristam." "Yes." Gareth saw no reason to deny it. "Not that I needed to, mind you. I figured you'd try to play the hero sooner or later." "I'm no one's hero." Alric stood, wiping his palms against the sides of his hose. "Were it not for me, none of this would be happening." "You take too much upon yourself, Alric. Denmar was my enemy long ere I laid eyes on you." "Yes, but it's me he wants. The only reason he's accusing you of these crimes is so he can force my hand." "I see." Gareth folded his arms. "So instead of standing up to the varlet, you're going to give him what he wants?" "At least you'd be safe then." 298

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"Says who?" Gareth rose from the log. "Denmar wants you for a weapon, Alric. If he gains control of your powers, no one in the Over Kingdom will be safe." "I won't let that happen." Alric looked away. "I'll die first." "Either way, you're proposing suicide." Gareth closed the distance between them and pulled Alric back around so the two of them were again facing. "I've a better plan." "Oh?" Gareth nodded, a gesture easily seen in the bright light of the full moon. "Do you trust me?" "Trust has nothing—" "Answer the question. Do you trust me?" "You know that I do." "Good." Gareth stepped back before loosening the dagger at his belt. Palming it, he said, "Did I ever tell you that I'm descended from the Warriors of Iskador?" "The mountain people?" Alric was surprised, and not just by the turn the conversation had taken. "I thought the Warriors of Iskador were nothing more than myth." "Not according to my mother." Alric could just see Gareth's smile. "She regaled me with stories of them, of the brave men who blended into the mountainside like shadows. 'They were fierce fighters and loyal lovers,' she would tell me. Mother even went so far as to say a man of Iskador's brood had seduced one of our maiden ancestors. 'Gareth,' she said, 'the blood of Iskador runs thick in your veins. You can do anything—have anything—your heart so desires, and the likes of mortal man ne'er can stop you.'" Gareth's eyes were intense on Alric's, even in the darkness. "You're everything I 299

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desire, Alric, and no one—not even Lucien of Denmar—is going to take you away from me." "Those were nothing more than fairy stories, Gareth." Alric took a deep breath, his chest aching with the weight of it all. "Denmar's threat is real, and unless I give him what he wants, he won't stop until he kills you." "Without you, I may as well be dead already. If you go to him, I'll have nothing left." "That's not true. You'll have Tristam, Mar—" "Nothing." Gareth captured Alric's chin in the palm of his free hand. "You once told me you loved me. Did you mean it?" "It doesn't matter now. Creator only knows what charges Denmar has trumped against you or what false witnesses he'll bring to testify for him. With half the High Council on his side, there's no way we can win." "It matters to me. I can triumph over all if I have you by my side." Gareth set his jaw. "Now I ask you again: do you love me?" Alric pulled away, the unfairness of the situation too much to bear. "Damn you, yes." He turned back again, angry at having been pushed. "I love you. Is that what you wanted to hear?" Instead of answering, Gareth said, "I've only ever said the words to one man. Have I told you that?" "Yes." Alric swallowed against a fresh wave of torment. He'd known Gareth could never love any man save Kiel, but to hear it stated so baldly stung more than he ever thought possible. 300

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Alric turned his back completely, and when next he spoke his words were little more than a whisper against the sounds of the night. "You lost your heart and soul when Kiel was murdered." He wiped his sweaty face with the palm of his right hand, wishing the ground would open up and devour him whole. It was at that moment he felt, rather than heard, Gareth step in behind him. "I didn't lose them, Alric. I prefer to think I only mislaid them for a while." Gareth came closer, and Alric could feel hot breath on the back of his neck. "'Tis because of you that I was able to find them again. You made me whole when once I thought I'd never be complete." Alric heard him take a step back. "Look at me, please." Alric had no choice but to obey the command. He turned to find Gareth staring at him with a combination of ferocity and warmth. "I love you, Alric, and neither Denmar's treachery nor a charge from the High Council is going to change that." Alric thought at first Gareth was only saying the words to sway him from his course, but the sincerity in Gareth's eyes was impossible to miss. Struck near to speechless, Alric stammered, "But Kiel—" "I loved Kiel, but no more so than I love you." Gareth took Alric's left hand in his. "From the moment I met you, I'd thought to guard myself from the pain and risk of ever loving again, but you got inside of me in a way no one else could have. I fought this marriage with both fists blazing, but I now know without a doubt The Creator had a hand in our union." He smoothed his thumb across Alric's palm. "You're the best 301

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thing ever to touch my life. The question is, do you love me enough to stay with me and fight?" "Not loving you enough has never been the issue." Alric felt he had to voice his argument, even though a part of him was starting to believe. "Don't you see? 'Tis my feelings for you that make me so desperate to see you safe." "I've a plan, Alric, one I've already set in motion." When Alric opened his mouth to ask, Gareth cut him off with a shake of the head. "'Twould be best for you if I keep that plan to myself for now, but more than anything I need to know if you're with me on this. Will you stay by my side no matter what happens with the Council?" Alric wanted more than anything to say yes, but the thought of what could happen to Gareth held him silent. Not to be deterred, Gareth pressed on. "I can best Denmar. No matter what deception he's conceived, I can beat the villain at his own game, but only if you stay with me. If I lose you, all will be lost." Once again, Alric found all his arguments swept away. "You have this habit of breaching my defenses, as well you know." Gareth gave him a slow, sexy smile. "Does that mean you'll stand with me as my mate and damn the consequences?" Whether it was the pleading in Gareth's eyes or the tender hope blossoming in his own chest, Alric wasn't sure, but at that moment he felt the last of his fears ebbing away. If Gareth said all would be well, then it would be. It was as simple as that. 302

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Threading his fingers through Gareth's, Alric said, "I will." Half expecting Gareth to pull him in for a kiss, Alric was surprised when he didn't. Instead, Gareth continued the conversation. "As I was telling you, my mother swore by our family relation to Iskador. Her conviction was strong enough to make a believer of me, and for that reason, I began to gather all the information I could find of Iskador's clan. They were an interesting lot to say the least, and not a little bit savage." He squeezed Alric's fingers. "Wild as they were, the Warriors of Iskador were passionate lovers, and their marriage rites remain among the most moving I've ever heard tell of." "Oh?" Gareth nodded. "The Iskadorians had a special ceremony designed for the bonding of two men." He held up the dagger for Alric to see. "It involves the exchange of blood and the swapping of vows." Alric smiled. "If you'll recall, we're already married." "I would scarcely call that a marriage ceremony." Gareth made a face. "You and I were more like combatants in a death fight than husbands rightly wed." His expression softened. "'Tis my goal to change that, right here and now. Are you willing?" As if there was ever any doubt. "I am." Still holding tight to Alric's hand, Gareth led him into the open field so that moonlight spilled down upon them both. "Then let the moon be our witness." He turned so that they were facing. "I'll say the words, and you repeat them back to me." 303

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Alric gave a single nod and waited. A moment later, Gareth cleared his throat and then began. "With a willing spirit and a steadfast heart, I Gareth, take you, Alric, into my keeping. From now until my last breath I shall cherish you as my equal, and pity be upon the man who tries to tear us asunder. I pledge to you my body and soul, taking the same that is yours. By my blood I make this vow." The words were haunting. Alric laced them with all the love he had to offer as he said them back. "With a willing spirit and a steadfast heart, I Alric, take you, Gareth, into my keeping. From now until my last breath I shall cherish you as my equal, and pity be upon the man who tries to tear us asunder. I pledge to you my body and soul, taking the same that is yours. By my blood I make this vow." A slight tremor ran through Gareth as he lifted the knife. "May the bite of this blade now mark our vow." With infinite care, Gareth made a shallow slice to Alric's wrist alongside the pulsing vein. Alric felt little pain. As soon as Gareth was finished Alric took the knife and repeated the words before likewise cutting into Gareth's tender flesh. Alric watched Gareth's face closely as he made the incision, but Gareth only gave him a reassuring smile. Once done, Alric handed the knife back to Gareth, who then re-sheathed the dagger before pressing his wound tight to Alric's and finishing the ceremony. "Let us now be of one flesh and of one mind. By our blood, so we are bound." Still holding their wrists together, Gareth brought Alric in close so that their foreheads were touching. "Thank you," he 304

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whispered. "Thank you for becoming mine in every sense of the word." "You're thanking me?" Alric couldn't believe what he was hearing. "I never thought you'd be able to love me. I'd hoped, of course, but..." He cupped Gareth's cheek. "The magnitude of the gift you've just given me ... I find I'm overwhelmed." "Ah, but you speak as if I'm done." "You mean there's more?" "Of the actual ceremony, no, but our night together is far from finished." Gareth unlocked his wrist from Alric's, his left hand coming down to grasp Alric's right. "What happens next is entirely up to you." Intrigued, Alric allowed Gareth to lead him back to the tree line. There Gareth pulled him into the shelter of a thick copse of pines. Alric smiled when the crunch of dry needles beneath his booted feet lost their bite and he realized he was standing on something soft. A blanket. "When did you do this?" "A few moments ago." Gareth chuckled. "You were so lost in your dark thoughts, I swear a whole army could have traipsed through these woods and you never would have known it. I wanted to make certain all was ready when the ceremony was finished." "Were you so sure of me, then?" "Sure of myself is more like." Gareth gave a husky laugh and pulled Alric into the warm curve of his body. "'Twas my plan to earn your trust or die trying." "My hesitancy had nothing to do with trust." 305

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"Shh, love. I know that now, but what I'm about to ask of you will require trust. On both our parts." Alric wasn't certain he liked the sound of that, but when Gareth pulled him down to sit on the soft cloth of the blanket, Alric went willingly enough. He sat cross-legged, holding Gareth's hand and waiting for him to explain. When at last Gareth spoke, his voice contained a hoarse mixture of fear and need. "From as far back as my memory stretches, I've always held the need to be in complete control at all times. Perhaps that comes from being the bastard son of a high-ranking king, desperate to prove myself above reproach, or perhaps 'tis simply my way. Whatever the case, I've never allowed a man to claim me, not even Kiel." Alric jumped slightly as Gareth pressed a cool glass bottle into his hand. "Tonight I mean to change all that." "Are you asking me to..." The words stuck in Alric's throat. "Yes, I am." Alric was unable to see beneath the darkness of the pines, but he felt the ghost of Gareth's fingertips as they wafted over the back of his hand. "'Tis the one gift I can give you that I've never given to another man. The gift of my body. Will you make me yours in truth?" Alric was struck speechless by the unselfishness of Gareth's offering, but he had to be certain Gareth knew what he was asking for. "Are you positive this is what you want? A long time has passed since I took a man, and I fear I may not be able to stop once I get started."

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"I want this, Alric." Gareth leaned forward and pressed a feathering kiss on Alric's jaw. "I want to feel the pulse of you deep within me." Alric's resolve melted the moment the words left Gareth's lips, but he had experience enough to know not to rush their coupling. Placing the bottle of oil on the edge of the blanket, he rose to his knees, pulling Gareth up with him before reaching for the hem of Gareth's tunic. The whispering slide of linen upon skin sounded as Alric pulled Gareth's shirt free and cast it aside. Gareth trembled beneath his touch as Alric leaned forward, pressing his lips to one of Gareth's hard nipples. "Saints, but that feels good." "See what you've been missing?" Alric chuckled. "If you liked that, I eagerly await your reaction to this next part. Lie down now, on your back." Gareth did as he was told, stretching out on the blanket in a full sprawl that Alric's eyes were just able to take in the in the near-darkness. He thought for a moment about moving them back out into the moonlit clearing, but then he thought better of it. Not only was there the chance that Tristam or one of the soldiers would see them, but there was something erotic about having to feel his way along Gareth's body. It was a heady thing, learning Gareth through the power of touch, and Alric intended to enjoy every moment of it. He edged his way to Gareth's feet, removing and casting his boots aside before coming back up to start on the lacings of his hose. Gareth gave a low moan as Alric dug his fingers inside and clutched Gareth's erection in the palm of his hand. 307

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Holding him fast, Alric used his free hand to work the hose over his hips and down his legs until at last Gareth lay naked before him. Alric let go of Gareth, then, and laughed when Gareth lodged a protest. "I've only to shed my clothes and I'll be back, I swear it." He made quick work of disrobing and then Alric was back as promised, spooning up to Gareth's side as he began the slow process of seduction. He took his time, using fingers, tongue, and lips to explore Gareth as he'd never done before. Gareth moaned and panted against the onslaught, and with each sound Alric grew harder until he thought sure he was going to burst. Even so, Alric took his time, tasting and teasing until he was certain Gareth was ready to proceed. After first feeling behind him for the bottle, Alric again rose to his knees—vial in hand—and parted Gareth's hard-hewn thighs before coming to rest at Gareth's center. Alric uncorked the bottle and drizzled the cool oil onto his fingers. "Tell me if I hurt you." Gareth grunted in way of answer, a sound which Alric took as a yes. His fingers slid over Gareth's sacs as he searched for his target. Alric smiled in triumph as he thumbed across Gareth's entrance. With more care than he'd known he possessed, Alric worked the first finger of his right hand inside. Gareth stiffened when Alric gained entry, and Alric stopped long enough to let him adjust even though the feel of Gareth's tight passage around his finger was driving him mad with want. After a long, tense moment, Gareth said, "More." 308

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More oil and a second finger were added, and this time Alric shifted the direction his fingers had taken, coming in direct contact with that special spot deep inside Gareth's body. His hips rocked from the blanket as a low sound of approval rumbled from Gareth's throat. Sensing it was time to begin in earnest, Alric withdrew his fingers and slicked himself with the oil before positioning his manhood against Gareth's opening. "'Twill be uncomfortable at first. If at any time you need me to take it slower, you've only to tell me." Instead of answering, Gareth wrapped his legs around Alric's waist and drew him closer. Unable to wait a moment longer, Alric pushed forward with his hips and started his way inside. Gareth cried out as his virgin muscles gave way. Alric paused, balancing himself on his elbows as Gareth grew used to him. It seemed as of an eternity passed before Gareth said, "I'm ready." Alric was only too happy to oblige. The next forward roll of his hips had him all the way in. He tried to stop for another moment, but this time Gareth wouldn't allow it, urging Alric on with his hands and legs. After that, Alric was lost to sensation as he answered the call of both Gareth's body and his own. Their cries mixed and rose until Alric thought sure the men back at camp could hear, but he was beyond caring. Release was fast approaching, and he refused to reach climax unless Gareth was with him. Shifting position so that Gareth's cock 309

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was wedged against his belly, Alric thrust hard, repeating the motion over and over until the delicious friction compelled Gareth over the edge. With a harsh, rasping cry Gareth's seed filled the space between them. Only when Gareth's warmth spread over his belly did Alric seek his own pleasure, filling Gareth to the full one more time before allowing the racking tremors to take him away. **** Gareth opened his eyes, blinking against the shards of early morning sunlight filtering through the trees. Beside him Alric slept, and though Gareth tried to stay still, it was but a moment before Alric woke to stretch against him like a sleepy cat. "Good morning." "That it is." Gareth leaned over to kiss him but stopped as a twinge of pain sounded through his lower body. Alric frowned. "Did I hurt you last eve?" "No." Gareth grinned down at him. "If last night is but a taste of what our future holds then 'tis a soreness I relish." Alric laughed. "Tell me that again later on, after you've sat saddle all day." His smile faded. "As for the future, I wish you'd confide in me what it is you're planning." "I know I'm asking more of you than I have a right, but I need you to trust me on this. You'll see why when all is said and done." To Gareth's relief, Alric gave a slow nod of acceptance. "As you say." 310

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"Then let us get cleaned and dressed." Gareth placed a kiss on Alric's temple. "All will be well, Alric. I promise you that. Your trust in me will prove well placed." Alric brushed a stray hair from Gareth's forehead. "I know that." He glanced at the healing welt on his wrist. "I used to believe there was poison in my blood, have I told you that?" "No." Gareth rolled over and sat up. "Why would you think such a thing?" Still lying flat on his back, Alric gave a one-shouldered shrug. "I reasoned the fire must have come from somewhere, so I assumed my blood was somehow tainted." "I hope last night disabused you of that notion." Gareth rubbed the matching welt on his own wrist. "We're joined now, Alric. The same blood that is yours now flows through my veins." Alric reached out with one hand, his short nails raking over the smooth skin of Gareth's wrist just below the dagger's mark. "I like the sound of that." Gareth shivered. "Keep doing that and our journey back to camp will be delayed by at least another hour." Alric shook his head. "You're too tender for a second go." "That I am, but from where I'm sitting, you're looking particularly fresh and untried this fine morn." Alric laughed. "Well, are you just going to sit there or do you mean to come down here and do something about it?" Not having to be told twice, Gareth stretched out to join him. **** 311

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Though they plodded a steady course on to Banning, unforeseen delays including a brace of sick soldiers and a broken bridge across the Danig River caused a full fortnight's delay. The extra two weeks journey suited Gareth just fine. The longer it took them to reach the capitol city, the more time he had to make certain all the players for his little game were in place. Whether he knew it or not, Denmar was about to meet his match. On the first day of the seventh week, the snow-white spires of Banning Castle came into view, towering above the trees ahead of them. Tristam, riding on Gareth's left, reined his stallion to a stop in the middle of the road. "Are you certain you know what you're doing?" Gareth resisted the urge to roll his eyes, but it wasn't easy considering Tristam had asked him the same question five times that morning already. "This isn't some half-brained scheme I hatched just last eve, Tristam." Gareth gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "I swear to you, my plan is sound." "I'd have an easier time believing that if you'd take me into your confidence." Tristam looked to Gareth's right where sat Alric on his own mount. "And what say you of this plan of his? I'm assuming he's confided all to you." Alric shook his head. "Gareth has told me nothing of his intentions but I trust he knows what he's about." "Let us hope your faith is well placed." Tristam looked far from convinced as he gave Gareth a long, lingering stare. "'Twill be your head if this thing goes awry." 312

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Tristam was right, but there was no help for it as far as Gareth could see. Rather than trying to placate Tristam, he nudged Merrick forward and the three of them continued on in silence, crossing through Banning's gates a scant hour later. The capitol city was as harried and bustling as Gareth remembered from his visit with Kiel during the first year of their marriage. The town square was full to bursting with shops and city offices, and merchants littered every corner, eager to sell their wares. To Gareth's way of thinking, Banning was one of the few places where all manner of classes met on equal ground, with royalty and common folk sharing the same space. He took it all in, using the noise and distraction of the city to take his mind off the confrontation to come. Through the streets of Banning they rode, and though the journey on to the castle itself was a goodly distance, it seemed to Gareth as if no time had passed before they'd reached the castle wall. A bevy of armed sentinels met them at the iron gates separating Banning Castle from the city itself. The leader, a swarthy guard with a thick mustache, stepped up to meet them. He had a wicked pike clutched tight in his hand. "Who goes here?" Following tradition, Gareth dismounted from Merrick's back before dropping the reins and stopping just in front of the head sentinel. "King Gareth of Kray, here on official summons of the High King." From the pouch at his belt, Gareth 313

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produced the document and then passed it to the sentinel for inspection. The leader read the parchment with widening eyes before falling on his face at Gareth's feet. "Begging your pardon, Sire. Welcome to Banning Castle." The remainder of the guards gave a similar showing of respect before Gareth ordered the lot of them to their feet. As the sentinels hastened to open the gates, Gareth remounted Merrick and, at the leader's signal, rode on through. On the other side of the gates, a rush of stable hands and servants hurried forth to take their mounts and see to their comfort. Wycaster and the rest of the soldiers who'd accompanied them from Drystan were shown to the guest barracks as a tall, richly robed steward met the three kings in the center of the courtyard. "Welcome to Banning, Majesties. I am Levelard, your humble servant. 'Tis with great delight I tell you that King Elwin knows you are here and extends his personal greetings." He bowed his dark head and then straightened back to his full height. "'Twill be my pleasure to take you on to see the High King. Eland!" Levelard snapped his bony fingers at a passing servant. "See that their majesties' things are taken to the guest quarters at once." As the lad raced to do his master's bidding, Levelard turned once again to Tristam, Alric, and Gareth. "Right this way, Sires." They followed him up the winding path leading from the bailey to the inner courtyard. Unlike the small, cozy space at Kray, Banning's courtyard was massive, with lists dominating 314

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one side of the space and a formal garden occupying the other. The garden was brimming with elegantly dressed maidens and courtly lords, but it was the lists that drew Gareth's attention. Two mail-clad warriors were locked in heated combat, their swords clashing and clanging in a series of thrusts and parries that was dizzying to watch. Neither man went in for the kill, which told Gareth theirs was only a contest of skill and not a death match. He swallowed, knowing he himself would bear no such luck. Levelard took them through the courtyard to a side entrance at the castle's base. "I'll show you to your quarters, my kings, so you may freshen up whilst I formally announce you to the court. As soon as you're ready, I'll see you on to the High King." "I thank you, Levelard." Gareth waited until they were inside and the door was securely closed behind them before again addressing the steward. "Would you be so kind as to inquire of the High King as to whether or not he received my missive?" "As a matter of fact, he did, Sire." Levelard looked Gareth dead in the eye. "King Elwin found your message most intriguing. Indeed, the High King bade me tell you that all is in place." Gareth gave Levelard a single nod. Levelard acknowledged the gesture with a bob of his own head before taking them down the hall to their rooms. Opening the last door on the left, he said, "For you, Kings of Kray," and then strode across the hall to open the opposite door for Tristam. "Here you are, my good King of Drystan." He stepped back into the center of 315

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the hall before addressing all three of them, again. "Eland should be along any moment with your things. I'll summon the servants at once and instruct them to bring you a hot meal and arrange for a bath." "Thank you, Levelard." This from Tristam, who waited until Levelard took his leave before leaning into Gareth and lowering his voice. "Missive?" Gareth nodded. "Using one of Drystan's fastest messengers, I dispatched a letter to the High King." Alric regarded him closely. "When?" Gareth threaded one arm around Alric's waist. "The same day I received the summons to appear here at Banning." Tristam curled his lip. "But of course, you have no intention of telling us what was in that letter." "Patience, Tristam." Gareth almost smiled at the disgruntled expression on Tristam's face. "All will be revealed in short order." "You'd better be right about your ability to best Denmar." Tristam crossed his arms over his chest. "I didn't come all the way to Banning, leaving my wife and child behind, to lose the only brother I have left." As always, Tristam's concern for him touched Gareth's heart. "You aren't going to lose me, Tristam. I promise you that." "'Tis one promise you'd best keep. I'll not allow my precious little Calla to be deprived the chance to know her uncle."

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"'Precious little Calla,' is it?" Gareth raised both brows. "What happened to, 'A man needs sons to rule a kingdom, Gareth?'" Tristam shrugged. "A man can run a kingdom just as well with a daughter by his side, especially a daughter as intelligent and precocious as mine. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to my room to await my bath." Gareth laughed as Tristam turned on his heel and went inside his chamber, closing the door behind him. "Have ever you seen someone so entranced by a babe?" "Without question." Alric grinned as he made for their room, pulling Gareth with him. "Maris is even more besotted with Calla than Tristam, if 'tis possible." He closed the door. "In truth, I think most parents go a bit daft over their offspring. I know my own father was as doting as they come." "An understatement, that. If ever a man was more enamored with his children than Declan, I've ne'er heard tell of it." Gareth sat down on the side of the lavish bed dominating the center of the room. "Your father wanted you to have children, you know." "My father wanted a lot of things." Something in Alric's eyes gave Gareth pause. "Are you saying you don't want children? Having seen how good you are with Stefan and little Calla, I'd be hard pressed to believe you don't want a family of your own." "Wanting has nothing to do with it." Alric came to stand in front of him. "As long as Denmar lives, no child of ours would ever be safe. Losing my father at that monster's hand was a pain beyond bearing, but to lose a child..." He shuddered. 317

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"Until Denmar is out of our lives, taking heirs is not an option." "One way or another, love, Denmar will soon pose no threat." Gareth pulled Alric into the circle of his arms. "On that you have my vow." Alric said nothing, only held Gareth fast. That suited Gareth just fine. The true trial was yet to come, and Gareth needed all of Alric's strength and support he could soak in. **** Long before Alric was ready to face the coming ordeal, Levelard was back to fetch them. In silent obedience, Alric, Gareth, and Tristam followed the steward through the winding corridors of the castle's wings to the main building where lay the quiet opulence of the throne room. The room was as magnificent as Alric remembered from his last visit, with its high, timbered ceiling and marble-laid floor, but it was the imperious man dominating the gilded throne at the room's center that most held Alric's attention. No one who'd ever caught sight of Elwin's scarred face could forget the High King. It wasn't that Elwin was uncomely. In fact, Alric found him quite handsome with his short crop of raven hair and black, piercing eyes. His form was as fit and fine as any man could ask for, lean but rippling with hard muscle. Indeed, Elwin would have been a near perfect specimen if not for the deep, jagged scar running from the corner of his eye and trailing over his right cheek all the way down to the base of his 318

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throat. Alric could only imagine what pain such a wound must have wrought. Elwin rose as Levelard took the three of them to the fore of the throne. After first dismissing the steward with a wave of his hand, Elwin greeted them with a single nod. "Welcome to Banning." Alric, Gareth, and Tristam dropped each to one knee, but Elwin was quick to bid them rise. "'Tis only the four of us here now, each of us a king in his own right. I say we dispense with the formalities and meet as equals ere the true test begins." Once they were again on their feet, Elwin took a step closer to where Alric was standing between Gareth and Tristam. "You were little more than a boy when last we met." He eyed Alric up and down. "What was it Lord Denmar said about you, again?" Elwin's finger absently traced his scar. "Ah, yes. He referred to you as 'a picture of masculine perfection.'" The High King's lips twisted. "For once Denmar and I agree on something." Gareth bristled and probably would have said something had Alric not headed him off. Focusing his eyes on Elwin, Alric said, "Begging your pardon, Majesty, but Denmar's pretty words mean nothing to me. I played the fool for him once before, and I'll rot in the Under Realms for all eternity ere I do it again." To Alric's surprise, Elwin's lips twisted into a half smile. "Handsome and spirited to boot. No wonder Denmar grieves the loss of you." 319

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"Denmar grieves nothing save the loss of Alric's powers." Gareth's mouth fell into a hard line. "If you're even thinking of giving Alric back to that cur—" "Peace, my friend." Elwin held up one long-fingered hand. "I knew good and well the circumstances when I issued the annulment of Denmar and Alric's marriage. I may have done so in honor of my father's friendship with Declan of Kray, but I was all too aware of Denmar's misdeeds." Again, Elwin's fingers absently stroked the scar on his cheek. Shifting his eyes back to Alric, he said, "From what I've heard, I'm not the only one in this room who bears a mark of the past. At any rate," he straightened to his full height, hands at his sides, "I have no intention of granting Denmar's petition for a reinstatement of the first marriage. Besides," Elwin turned and made his way back to his throne. "According to the correspondence I received from you, good King Gareth, I have more pressing problems to deal with than Lord Denmar." At that moment, Tristam's patience finally reached its end. "Perhaps now would be the time for someone to explain just what was contained in this mysterious letter that Gareth sent." Gareth started to answer but Elwin said, "Please, allow me." The High King took his seat and folded his fingers together over one knee in a pose that would have seemed casual if not for the seriousness of his next words. "'Twould seem there's a traitor in my midst. Several traitors, if Gareth's information is correct. Oh, I'd already heard something of the like from Thaddeus of Winthrop, but let us 320

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just say I had good reason to call Thaddeus's credibility into question." Given Thaddeus's history, Alric could well understand why Elwin had been reluctant to believe him, but at least Winthrop had kept his word and informed the High King of Denmar's plot. Looking to Elwin, Alric said, "I take it Gareth's missive was more convincing." "In a manner of speaking." Elwin leaned to the side and pulled on the long golden cord dangling to the right of the throne. A second later a servant garbed in the same rich shade of gold appeared. "Bring in our first guest, Somersby." The servant bowed low and scurried off, at which point Elwin turned his attentions back to Alric. "I'm not sure how much you know of the High Council, Alric, but of the fifteen men currently sitting at the Council table, every last one inherited his position. Indeed, most of my councilors can say an ancestor of theirs has sat on the High Council since the Over Kingdom was founded some three hundred years ago." Elwin sighed, and for the first time Alric caught a glimpse of the weariness inside him. "To accuse someone with such a noble lineage of treason in its highest form is no small task. Thankfully, your husband has thought of the perfect way to test each councilor's metal." At that moment, a knock sounded on the outer door and Elwin smiled. "Right on time, I see." He raised his voice. "Bring him in, Somersby."

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The door opened, and Alric's stomach clenched as Finn was led inside. Turning to Gareth with a racing heart, Alric said, "What have you done?" Before Gareth could answer, Elwin said, "Peace, dear Alric. Gareth did nothing more than inform me of yon Finneas's most unusual ... talents." Finn bowed low to Elwin before coming to stand beside Alric. "Greetings cousin. You're looking well." "Whereas you look scared to death." Alric embraced him, using the opportunity to whisper in his ear. "You don't have to expose yourself this way." Finn stepped back and shook his head. "Yes, I do, and not simply because the High King asked me to. Denmar deserves to pay for what he's done to you." Finn's eyes went hard. "If I can play a part in seeing that the whoreson gets what he deserves, then 'tis exactly what I mean to do." Alric was warmed by Finn's unselfishness, but he knew firsthand what exposure of this sort would mean. "Once your gift becomes common knowledge, all the power-mad nobles in Orielle will seek to exploit your talents for their own gain." Before Finn could respond, Alric whirled on Gareth as anger over his actions began to build. "How could you do this without consulting me? You've seen what my own powers have cost me. How can you ask Finn to endure the same ordeal? And how, by all that's holy, did you learn of Finn's powers to begin with?" "Don't be angry with Gareth," Finn said. "I purposely gave myself away to him ere the two of you left Hume for Kray." 322

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Alric's memory stirred. "When you spoke to him in the hall as we were leaving." Finn nodded. "I told him that I saw a great battle coming in his future, and that he must protect you no matter the cost to himself. Before he could question me, I told him about my gift." Finn gave a weak smile. "I thought at first he believed me daft, but when the messenger arrived at Hume asking me to come to Banning and offer my services to the High King, I knew Gareth had taken me seriously." His voice went soft. "I need to do this, Alric. For all our sakes." "You see, Alric," Elwin leaned back against his seat, "no one is forcing Finneas to do anything he doesn't want to do." Alric wasn't convinced, and since Elwin had more or less invited them to speak freely, he had no reservations in doing so. "Finn's loyalty and friendship toward me sometimes clouds his better judgment. No matter what Denmar's game, I'll not have Finn used as a pawn." "As you were used, you mean?" Elwin tilted his head to the side, studying Alric's face. "'Twould seem that Finneas is not the only one who knows the meanings of loyalty and friendship. You can rest assured, Alric, that Finneas will be well protected and amply rewarded for the service he's about to perform." Tristam, who was still in the dark, said, "Would someone please tell me just what this talent of Finneas's is, and how such a talent is supposed to weed out the Council's unworthy?" "Young Finneas has the gift of second sight. From what he's told me, he can read a man's motives through nothing 323

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more than a touch." Elwin gave all assembled a bemused half-grin. "'Tis a trait I wouldn't mind having myself." "And you're telling me you're willing to take Finn at his word?" Alric didn't bother trying to disguise his doubt. "Not to seem impertinent, Sire, but 'twould not be wise for a king to be seen taking the word of a lesser noble he's only just met over the oaths of well-established Council members." Far from being annoyed over Alric's blunt skepticism, Elwin seemed pleased with the question. "'Tis a valid point you make." Elwin stood and then crossed the room to a low chest under an east-facing window. Removing a stack of parchment, he came back to stand in front of Alric. "There are the documents provided to me by Thaddeus of Winthrop. The names of the traitors are disclosed in these letters. If Finneas, who has no prior knowledge of the varlets' identities, names the same men as traitors, then I'll know he's chosen well." Elwin tucked the letters into his belt. "Enough conjecture. Let us adjourn to the Council room." Elwin led them through the double doors on the west side of the throne room into an open space of equal splendor. At the room's center sat an oval table of gold embellished oak, around which were seated fifteen elegantly dressed nobles, each of whom regarded the intruders with undisguised speculation. Elwin seemed to be amused by the councilors' surprised expressions. To Tristam, Gareth and Alric, he said, "Gentlemen, if you'll take your seats," Elwin pointed to a set of low benches on the far side of the room, "I think 'tis high time I told the Council why we're here." 324

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Once Alric and the rest complied with the High King's order, Elwin said, "Come, Finneas. I've a task for you." Alric's throat went tight as Elwin guided Finn to the dais. Placing a hand on Finn's shoulder, Elwin said, "Stand here for a moment while I address the Council." Stepping onto the platform, Elwin came to stand behind an empty seat at the head of the table—this one larger in scale and grander than the chairs occupied by the councilors. "Lords of Orielle's most High Council, I present to you Kings Gareth and Alric of Kray and King Tristam of Drystan." Each of the councilors nodded his acknowledgment of the three kings' stations before bringing his attention back to the High King. Elwin braced his hands on the chair's high back and said, "Gentlemen, it is with a heavy heart I must inform you that traitors have infiltrated the ranks of this very Council." Alric watched as some of the lords shifted in their seats, but only one—a white-haired man of advanced age—had the courage to speak. "What's this you say? A traitor?" "I fear 'tis so, Lord Ruan." Elwin adopted an aggrieved expression. "'Twould seem that some sitting here today would gladly see me off my throne." A nervous muttering arose until a wide-shouldered, brownhaired councilor with eyes to match said, "If there is a traitor—and I must confess I have my doubts—then 'tis a matter requiring some privacy. As High King, you should know better than to bring in an audience of outsiders, be they royalty or not." 325

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"Under normal circumstances I'd agree with you, Lord Vramon, but I think you'll agree that these circumstances are anything but usual." Elwin took a step back. "Nigh on nine months ago, I granted permission for the houses of Drystan and Kray to wage war on Lord Denmar for the egregious crimes he supposedly perpetrated against them. Having read proof provided by the King of Stiles, I felt comfortable issuing that order. However, Lord Denmar has recently brought to my attention that the evidence against him may have been forged by King Gareth of Kray, himself." Outrage flowed through Alric's every pore. He was about to stand and lodge a protest when Gareth stopped him. "Just listen for a moment longer," he whispered. "Elwin is merely setting the stage for the coming performance." Alric swallowed down his impulse to react and turned his attention back to the High King. "I must admit, I found the story hard to stomach in light of the evidence," Elwin said. "Still, I might have given head to what Lord Denmar was saying if not for the missives I received from Thaddeus of Winthrop. According to the correspondences I've read," Elwin leaned forward, "eight of the fifteen men at this table are conspiring with Lord Denmar against me." A cry of protest sounded round the table. A fair-haired man who looked to be no older than Elwin said, "You can't believe that." Elwin straightened. "And why is that, Lord Trandower? 'Tis no secret some of you opposed my leadership after I claimed my father's throne." 326

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"Only because we thought you too young for the task." Lord Ruan folded his hands upon the tabletop. "I'm glad to say you've proven me wrong, boy." "I thank you for your support, Lord Ruan, but it seems some are not so open-minded as you." Elwin removed the documents from his belt and slapped them on the table. "In these papers are written the names of the eight men who are said to want me out." He cast a hard glance around the table. "Care to guess which ones of you are so named?" "Now see here." A man with flaming red hair jumped from his seat. "You're going to take what's written in some cryptic missive over the word of your own most trusted advisors?" "What's the matter, Lord Finch? Afraid your name might be on this list?" Elwin pointed to Finch's chair. "Sit back down until you're given leave to stand." With a wordless gasp, Lord Finch sat. Returning to the topic at hand, Elwin said, "As it happens, I need not rely on these letters alone. Indeed, I have a better way of judging the merits of my councilors." He did a half turn, motioning Finn onto the dais. "Gentlemen, allow me to present Finneas of Hume, cousin to the good King Rowan. Finneas here," Elwin clamped his hand down on Finn's arm, "has a most unique talent for sensing when a man is lying. With one brush of his fingers, Finneas will be able to see whether 'tis darkness or truth that lies in your hearts." "Witchery, it is." Lord Vramon pounded one beefy fist on the tabletop. "You're going to allow some black magic charlatan to judge us?" 327

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Elwin ignored the outburst and continued his instructions. "Gentleman, Finneas will now make a circle 'round the table. You are each to extend your right hand, thus allowing him the most basic of contact." Elwin's mouth fell into a hard line. "Any man who refuses will immediately be named as guilty and taken away." "You haven't the right to do this, Elwin." Lord Finch's face flushed red to match his hair. "You've overstepped your authority." "According to the articles drafted upon the Over Kingdom's founding, the High King has every right to usurp the Council's authority should he see fit." Elwin folded his arms across his chest. "I can think of no better time to exercise that right than now." He cast his eyes on Finn. "Begin, Finneas. You may start with Lord Ruan." Alric watched, heart in his throat, as Finn took two short steps to where Lord Ruan was sitting. "Your hand please, my lord." Ruan contemplated Finn for a long moment before clasping Finn's hand with his own. Wrapping his fingers around Ruan's wrinkled wrist, Finn lowered his lids, took a deep breath, and then opened his eyes again as he let go of Ruan's hand. Without passing judgment, Finn made his way to the next councilor. And so it went as Finn made his way around the table. The three councilors after Ruan offered Finn their hands with no protest. Alric was just starting to hope that Finn would make it through the ordeal unscathed when Finn reached Lord Vramon's side and offered up his hand. 328

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Vramon studied Finn for a long moment before shaking his meaty head. "I'll not do it." Finn looked to Elwin who nodded before sticking two fingers into his mouth and letting loose with a shrill whistle. Two armed guards came in a moment later and Elwin said, "Escort Lord Vramon to the dungeons." Alric watched as the color drained from Vramon's face. "You can't do that." "Oh, but I can." Elwin's iron gaze offered Vramon no mercy. "Now I'll ask you once more: will you submit to Finneas's examination, or shall I instruct the guards to remove you from this chamber?" "No, no. I'll consent." Vramon gave Finn his hand. Even from where he was sitting, Alric could see that Vramon was trembling. The guards fell back and Finn completed his task in little time, with the remaining councilors having sense enough to offer no resistance as Finn finished the chore. The last councilor to be judged was Lord Trandower. As soon as Finn was done with him, he went to stand beside Elwin. "I'm ready, Sire." Elwin nodded. "Announce your findings." Finn took a step back and cleared his throat. "Lords Ruan, Adleron, Trandower, Henson, Murdock, Lowing, and Vramon are innocent, Sire." Lord Ruan's white eyebrows disappeared into the bushy mass of his hairline. "Vramon?" He turned to the offending lord. "By all that's holy, man, if you're innocent, why the protest?" 329

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Vramon pursed his lips, some of his petulance having returned. "Such a trial is beneath me." Elwin ignored Vramon, his eyes never leaving Finn's face. "What of those not named?" "Guilty, Sire." Finn met the High King's stare. "All eight of them." Elwin was quiet for a moment, and it seemed to Alric as if a breathless eternity had passed before the High King gave a single, clipped nod. "Let it now be known that the men identified as traitors by young Finneas of Hume are the selfsame men so named in Winthrop's documents." No sooner had Elwin made his pronouncement than the room erupted as each guilty councilor shouted his denial—a couple of them going so far as to attempt escape. Elwin delved into the chaos, summoning a fresh wave of guards into the fray. It took ten additional soldiers to rein the wayward councilors in, but they soon had the situation under control. "Escort these gentlemen," Elwin curled his lip as he said the word, "to the dungeons and await my instructions." The guards did as they were told and the offending councilors—still struggling and shouting their denials—were led away. Only when the last of the blackguards had been removed did Elwin show the true depth of his weariness. Sinking into his chair, Elwin faced the remaining councilors. "Now I trust you understand the urgency with which I summoned you." "Perhaps." Lord Ruan eyed Finn, who was still standing at the edge of the dais. "If the evidence against them is correct, 330

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'twould seem we're fortunate indeed that young Finneas was here to lend his talents." "Talents, you say?" Lord Vramon snorted. "I still say we've no way of knowing whether this man's so-called gift is real." Elwin started to speak but Finn spoke up before he could. "Begging your pardon, Sire, but I'd be glad to give Lord Vramon a demonstration if you'll allow it." "What say you, Vramon?" Elwin leaned back in his chair as he put the question to the doubting man. "If Finneas offers you proof of his claims, will you lay aside your reservations?" Vramon cocked his head to the side, his eyes darting back and forth between the two of them as he considered the question. A long moment passed before he gave a reluctant nod. "If I'm satisfied the evidence is solid, then yes, I will." "Fair enough," Finn said as he made his way back to where Vramon was sitting. "Your hand, my lord, if you please." Vramon extended his hand, and Finn clasped it tight. Alric sat rigid in his seat, watching as Finn's eyes went wide. Dropping Vramon's hand, Finn took a step back. "Well, what did you find?" Vramon folded his arms over his chest. "I haven't got all day, boy." Finn's eyes made a nervous trek around the Council chamber before landing back on Vramon. "Perhaps, my lord, it would be better if I give you this evidence in private." "I hold no secrets from my fellow councilors." Vramon curled his lip. "Besides, 'tis doubtful you've learned anything, anyway."

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"Very well." Finn straightened, and there was a glint in his eye Alric couldn't quite place. "My lord, does your wife know that you and Lord Trandower have been having an affair?" Fits of coughing and sputtering erupted from those seated at the table, and even Gareth and Tristam seemed to be having a hard time digesting the information, if the bewildered expressions they each wore were any indication. The fair-haired Lord Trandower seemed to be caught between amazement and denial, for several times he opened his mouth only to have no sound come out. For his part, Lord Vramon said nothing, only sat staring at Finn as if he'd gleaned a new appreciation for the man. Finally, to Alric's amazement, Lord Vramon's lips curved into a genuine smile. "As a matter of fact, boy, my wife knows all about us. Once or twice the ol' girl has even joined in." Trandower's face turned a shade of red Alric had never seen before. It was at that point King Elwin took back control of the conversation. "Vramon, that was entirely too much information, but I thank you for your candor." Elwin looked out over the rest of the councilors. "I hope this puts the matter of Finneas's powers to rest." "I'm satisfied with the boy's assessment, but we've a bigger problem to deal with." Lord Ruan steepled his wrinkled hands on front of his face. "With the Council now in tatters, the governing body of Orielle is unbalanced." Ruan pinned Elwin with sharp eyes. "You've been expecting this to happen 332

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since the day you received those missives from the King of Winthrop, haven't you?" "Yes." Elwin didn't bother to deny it. "I've long suspected some of you were plotting a coup to oust me from my throne. I admit I never expected so many to be conspiring against me at one time, but I can't say I was surprised." Ruan nodded. "After today's display, I can see where you wouldn't be. And if you're half the king I know you to be, I'd be willing to wager you've thought of a way out of this mess." "I have, though I vow not a one of you is going to like it." Elwin looked to Finn, who was still hovering beside Vramon. "Take a seat, Finneas. If I were you, I'd want to be as far away as possible when I announce my decision." Finn nodded and came to sit on the other side of Alric even as Elwin was rising to his feet. Standing tall at the head of the table, Elwin said, "In light of your contemporaries' treachery, I've decided to abolish the High Council all together." "Damned if you will." Vramon made the denial, and the gray-haired councilor next to him, the one called Adleron, seconded the sentimen t. "I've been a member of this Council for nigh on forty years, long before you were even a glint in your father's eye, boy. You haven't the right to dismiss me like some old pile of useless chaff." "Yes, he does." Ruan rose from his seat, his spindly legs popping out a loud protest. "According to Orielle's bylaws, word of the High King is sacrosanct and subject to question only by a majority of the High Council." Ruan heaved a heavy sigh. "Since the majority of this Council is about to be 333

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convicted of high treason, we've not number enough to lodge a protest. It seems, gentleman, that the High Council has just been rendered obsolete." "We'll see about that." Vramon stood with force enough to overturn his chair. "This isn't over, Elwin." He pointed one short finger at the High King. "I'll be rotting in my grave ere I'll allow some royal upstart to knock me from my place." Once he made the vow, Vramon turned on his heel and stormed from the dais, hitting the tile floor with jarring force before stomping from the room. After a quick glance at Elwin, Lord Trandower followed his lover out. Adleron also stood, and though the look he cast in Elwin's direction flared with a raw, burning hatred, Adleron held his tongue as he quit the room. Three of the remaining councilors followed Adleron out, and though none of them spoke directly to Elwin, Alric was sure he heard mutterings of retribution and dissent as the three of them made their exits. Within moments, only Lord Ruan was left standing at the table with Elwin. "It seems," Ruan said, "that you've just knocked me out of a job, my boy." "So it seems." Elwin's voice was firm and held not a hint of apology. "If you've a threat to make or an argument to wage, I'd just as soon you state it now and have done with it." Ruan shook his head. "I imagine I'd have done the same thing were I you. Half a council is of no use to a man trying to keep his finger on the pulse of a kingdom."

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In response to Ruan's comment, Elwin smiled for the first time since the ordeal began. "In that case, old man, I have an offer for you." "Oh?" "I want to make you my chief advisor," Elwin said. "I need a man with your experience on my side." Ruan considered him for a moment. "You've plans, I take it." "Absolutely." Elwin eyes never wavered from Ruan's face. "Over three hundred smaller kingdoms are currently pledging fealty to me. 'Tis too high a number for me to police with any accuracy, and as such, attempts like this one to overthrow me are going to become common place." "Now wait just a moment." Tristam stood, his posture tense and angry. "If you're proposing to do away with some of our kingdoms—" "Peace, King Tristam." Elwin held up his hand. "Major kingdoms—those who lay claim to vast armies and multiple villages such as Drystan and Kray—will remain intact. 'Tis the smaller kingdoms, especially those whose loyalty I have reason to question, that will be changed from kingdoms to baronies. The sitting kings of each of these kingdoms will be given patents of nobility, but no longer will they rule their domains as sovereign." Tristam wasn't satisfied. "And just how many of these kingdoms do you plan to eliminate?" "Two hundred or more." Elwin faced him with a surety that kept even Tristam quiet. "That will leave one hundred kingdoms standing, and I'll ask each remaining king to report 335

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to Banning once each year to provide me an accounting of the previous year's progress." He braced his hands on the table's edge. "'Tis my goal to shape Orielle from the loose, mismanaged federation of kingdoms my forefathers built into a nation to be reckoned with." His eyes gleamed with ironclad resolve. "All those who refuse to ban with me will be dealt with." Tristam opened his mouth to speak, but Alric beat him to it. Pushing up from his chair, Alric said, "You've my allegiance, Sire." He bowed low. "I am at your bidding." "Thank you, Alric." Elwin's eyes lit on Gareth. "And what says your consort?" At the question Gareth came to stand beside Alric. "I am yours to command, my King." Seeing himself outnumbered, Tristam joined his lot to theirs. "May your will be done, High King." Elwin thanked the three of them with a bow of his own, to which Ruan snorted. "If the four of you are finished with the arse kissing, we've still a problem to confront, or have you forgotten?" "Lucien of Denmar." Elwin exhaled a long rush of breath before speaking once again to Gareth and Alric. "I'm afraid what I have to tell you of him isn't good." Alric tensed, but Gareth seemed to be expecting it. "I'm guessing Denmar was smart enough not to sign his name anywhere on those papers Winthrop provided." Elwin answered Gareth with a short nod. "Unless one of the treasonous councilors admits himself to be in collusion 336

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with Denmar—a situation I highly doubt—we've only Winthrop's word that Denmar sent those missives." "What of the letters written by Holden of Stiles?" Tristam's voice held a weak thread of hope. "Holden indicated at least once that Denmar was conspiring against not only the Kingdoms of Drystan and Kray, but against you, Majesty." "Maybe so, but the last scribblings of a dead man carry little weight against the word of live witnesses." Elwin's lips pinched into a tight frown. A thin trail of gooseflesh rose on the surface of Alric's skin. "You're speaking now of Denmar's so-called charges against Gareth." "I am." Elwin pivoted so that he was facing Alric fully. "Denmar has convinced no less than ten men—all of them nobles in good standing—to testify of advanced knowledge on their parts of a plot masterminded by Gareth to destroy all Denmar holds dear." "That's a lie." Alric's denial was hot and swift. "Denmar is the one who's been plotting against us all from the beginning." "Of that fact, I have no doubt, but Denmar is damned cunning." Elwin sighed. "Without more proof—" "Then 'tis my word against his." Gareth finished Elwin's sentence, speaking with grim certainty. "Even with the kings and kingdoms I've got backing me, there's no way for you to prosecute Denmar without also bringing charges against me." "That's the way of it, I'm afraid." This time, Elwin sounded truly sorry. "My only choices are to either charge you both 337

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and allow a court of nobility to reason it out, or to let the both of you go." "Begging your pardon, Highness," Gareth said, "but I've conceived of a better way to test the mettles of Denmar and myself." "I'm not getting any younger, boy," Ruan said. "Tell us your plan and have done with it." "Very well." Gareth took a deep, sustaining breath. "As soon as we leave this chamber, 'tis my intention to challenge Denmar with a fight to the death."

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Chapter Sixteen "Are you out of your mind?" Tristam whirled on Gareth, his eyes alight with outrage and the sure belief that Gareth had lost his wits. "You can't think to fight that scum." "Of course I can." Gareth had expected Tristam's reaction, and he was prepared for it. "You once said Denmar would be a fool to face me sword for sword. 'Tis a fight I can win, Tristam." "In a fair fight, perhaps, but you've seen for yourself that Denmar has no respect for the rules." Tristam turned pleading eyes to the High King. "You can't allow this challenge to proceed, Highness." "And just why can't he?" Ruan regarded Tristam with a surly frown. "The church has long ordered priests in question to undertake physical trials to prove their innocence or guilt. Why shouldn't warriors be put through the same ordeals?" For his part, Elwin didn't seem to be listening to either of them. Watching Alric with eyes that missed nothing, he said, "And what say you, Alric?" Rather than answering the king, Alric looked to Gareth. "You've been planning this all along, haven't you? 'Twas what you meant when you said one way or another Denmar would soon pose me no threat." "It was." Gareth wasn't about to lie to him, not now. "If Denmar accepts this challenge, 'twill be with one condition: no matter the outcome of our battle, he must forever surrender any claim on you and drop his vendetta against the houses of Drystan and Kray." 339

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"If you believe Denmar will abide by your terms," Tristam said, "then you're crazier than first I thought." "Denmar will conform to the terms, all right." Ruan spoke up again, and Gareth was surprised to find in the man an ally. "I may be old, but I vow I'll live long enough to see that Denmar will keep his word to stay away from young Alric, here, should Gareth lose the challenge." "'Tis old women's speak, this talk of losing." Elwin came around the table, not stopping until he was standing directly in front of Gareth. "Are you certain this is the course you wish to take? You've still the option of dropping your charge against Denmar and waiting for more evidence to surface against the varlet." Gareth shook his head. "I've had enough of waiting. 'Tis high time Denmar met with justice for all the evil he's spread through this kingdom." Elwin seemed well pleased with the answer. "Then I shall meet with Denmar and deliver to him your challenge personally." Ruan protested. "'Tis a servant's job you take upon yourself, Elwin." Elwin shrugged. "Perhaps, but I long to see the look on the blackguard's face when I lay out Gareth's terms." Elwin turned to go, only to stop midway and look back at Gareth. "Should Denmar accept, the challenge will begin at first light tomorrow morning. I'm expecting you to win." Gareth's only answer was a softly spoken, "So am I." Ruan said nothing after that, choosing only to follow Elwin out, thus leaving the four of them alone. 340

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Still stewing over Gareth's decision, Tristam turned on Finn, who up until that moment had chosen to remain silent and was still seated in his chair. "What say you of this, Finneas? Any grand visions or prophecies you'd like to bestow on us?" Ignoring Tristam's sarcasm, Finn stood and then took three slow steps to where Gareth and Alric were standing. "I see nothing save for the brave warrior standing before me." Finn tapped his right fist against his chest in a show of respect. "Creator keep you tomorrow, King Gareth." With no more than that, Finn left. "That's it? 'Creator keep you'?" Tristam eyed Finn's retreating back with disgust. "The man has the power of foresight at his command and all he has to say is, 'Creator keep you?'" Tristam tossed his hands in the air. "I'm surrounded by fools, the lot of you." He, too, turned to go, but Gareth stayed him with a hand to the shoulder. "I must do this, Tristam. 'Tis the only way we'll ever truly be free of Denmar." "And if you die, what then?" Tristam didn't turn back to face him, but Gareth could feel Tristam's fear beneath his hand. Gareth had only one answer. "Then Drystan will be safe." "And I'll have lost both my brothers." Tristam cleared his throat and shrugged out from beneath Gareth's hand. "Excuse me if I consider that too high a price to pay, even for my kingdom." This time when Tristam made to leave, Gareth didn't try to stop him. 341

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Instead, he watched Tristam go with a heavy heart. Long after the doors had closed behind him, Gareth stood, aching for Tristam, for himself, and for the unknown outcome of tomorrow. "He loves you, Gareth." Gareth looked to Alric with troubled eyes. "So do you, and you aren't trying to stop me." "Only because I know this is something you have to do." Alric gave him a sad smile. "I'm not saying I like it, but I know you well enough to know you'll not rest until you've Denmar's head mounted on your wall." He exhaled a long, slow breath. "My only regret is that I'm not the one in position to challenge the vile scourge." "It had to be me, Alric. I'm the one Denmar placed his charges against." "I know that." Alric held out his hand. "Come. Let us retire to our chamber and await word of Denmar's acceptance. The sooner you finish this, the sooner we can get on with our life together." Gareth wanted that with every fiber of his being, but he had to be certain Alric understood the risks, as well. "There's always a chance—" Alric cut him off by pressing that same outstretched hand to Gareth's lips. "No, there isn't. If Denmar takes you up on this, you will win the day." Alric's eyes bored into his. "There is no other option. Not for either of us." ****

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It seemed to Gareth as if an eternity passed before a solid knock sounded on the door of their chamber. He cast a quick look at Alric before rising from his chair to answer the summons. Gareth was certain it was Elwin, come to give him Denmar's answer. Swallowing down the mixture of anticipation and dread warring in his stomach, he opened the door wide and got a sweet-smelling, silver-eyed surprise as Glenna of Hume rushed in and engulfed him in a fierce hug. "Oh, but it's good to see you again," she said as she squeezed him with a great deal of strength for someone her size. No longer hampered by a bulging belly, Glenna was able to get close enough to whisper in Gareth's ear. "Has that brother of mine been taking care of you?" Before Gareth could answer, Alric pulled Glenna away from Gareth and into his own arms. "What are you doing here? And where are Stefan and the babe?" "With their nurse in the guest quarters." It was Rowan who answered as he stepped through the still-open door and gave first Gareth and then Alric each a hearty slap on the back. "And as to what we're doing here, Alric, you'll have to ask your husband's brother." Gareth's eyes widened. "Nadar?" "Not that brother," Tristam said, coming in behind Rowan. He tapped one thumb against his own chest. "This one." "You summoned them here?" Gareth was shocked. "When?" "You aren't the only one who sent out missives the day you were ordered to come here to Banning." Tristam 343

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shrugged. "Let us just say I thought it a good idea to have as many people backing you as possible." He shouldered his way past Rowan, coming to a stop just on the other side of Gareth. "You should know that I called Balthazar from Kray, also. He arrived just moments ago and is being housed with the king's personal physician. Quite an honor, or so I understand it." As Alric took Glenna and Rowan into the sitting room on the other side of the bedchamber, Gareth questioned Tristam further. "Why would you call Balthazar? I've no need for a healer." "I thought perhaps he could testify as to the effects of the tisrocaine powder and of the probability that 'twas the same substance that killed Declan. I was hoping Balthazar's testimony would strengthen our case against Denmar." Tristam sighed. "Of course, I had no idea at the time you were planning on matching swords with the scoundrel or I wouldn't have bothered." "Tristam—" "Your words are wasted on me, Gareth. I understand why you're doing this, but I still say there are other ways to see that justice is served." Tristam shook his head. "Not that it matters now. I've just come from a meeting with the High King." Gareth narrowed his eyes. "You went to talk him out of allowing the challenge." "For all the good it did me, yes." Tristam snorted. "Elwin's as hard-headed as you are, it seems. At any rate, he 344

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informed me right fast that Denmar has accepted your terms and will meet you on the lists at first light." As soon as Tristam made the pronouncement, Gareth's pulse quickened and his ears rang with the humming excitement of impending battle. After that, the evening passed in a blur for him. Glenna and Rowan regaled them with stories of their new daughter, Helene, and afterwards Glenna and Alric spent a private moment in shared mourning for their father. Gareth was too focused on thoughts of the coming fight to be anything other than distantly aware of what was going on around him. That, and he was busy studying Alric's face, memorizing every beloved angle and line. For all his bravado about killing Denmar with his bare hands, Gareth was too seasoned a warrior to ignore the risks. Tomorrow could just as easily mark his end as Denmar's, and if that were the case, Gareth wanted Alric's image emblazoned on his mind as he made his way into the afterlife. **** Dawn came sooner than he would have thought, and though neither he nor Alric had slept, Gareth felt strangely refreshed. After the others had left, Gareth had spent long hours in Alric's arms, enjoying the solace and comfort of his husband's body. Now, regardless of the outcome, Gareth felt himself ready for the coming challenge. Elwin's men arrived with the rising sun to escort him to the lists. Alric was allowed to walk with him as far as the stands, but the lead guard stopped him just short of the arena. 345

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Casting an apologetic glance in Alric's direction, the man said, "I'm sorry, Sire, but from here he must go on alone." Alric's only answer was a tight nod. Turning to face Gareth, Alric took Gareth's hand and pressed it against his own heart before leaning forward to give Gareth's mouth a soft brush with his lips. A silent acknowledgment of love and understanding passed between them, and then one of the guards led Alric away. "If you'll follow me, Sire, I'll take you in." The leader of the guards opened a side gate in the rough timber fence surrounding the arena and then led Gareth inside. The lists were bigger than they'd seemed upon first glance. A wide, grassless field, the arena was ringed on two sides by high stands where row after row of gaily dressed spectators were already seated. On the left, in front of the seats reserved for nobility, were established an array of vendors selling everything from sweetmeat pies to cold, thirst quenching draughts of ale. To the right was the jousting area: two long, even treks of ground divided by rows of short fencing. It was the middle of the field that most caught Gareth's attention—a rounded expanse of hard-packed earth surrounded by a low fence with tented bays on either end. Elwin's men led Gareth to the southern bay, where, to Gareth's surprise, Wycaster was waiting for him. Gareth greeted him with raised brows. "What are you doing here?" Wycaster pointed to a low table where Gareth's sword and armor lay. "I came to ready you." 346

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Gareth dismissed the guards before turning back to Wycaster. "I assumed a squire would see to the chore." "Trust a squire with a task this important?" Wycaster sniffed. "Not likely." He motioned for Gareth to raise his arms and then eased the mail hauberk over his head. Wycaster then reached for his gloves, but Gareth shook his head. "I can't fight as well with those things on. Best to leave them off." Wycaster nodded and then helped Gareth strap on his sheath. He was just about to slide in Gareth's sword when a voice behind them said, "Stop right there." Gareth turned to find Nadar standing at the outer entrance to the bay, a sword in his hand. Hefting the instrument higher for Gareth to better see it, he said, "I thought perhaps you'd have better luck with this weapon than your own." Nadar glanced at the sword Wycaster was holding. "These appear to be about the same size, so you should have no trouble making the switch." When Gareth made no move to take it, Nadar took two steps forward and pressed the blade into Gareth's hands. "See for yourself." It wasn't until Gareth had wrapped his fingers around it that he realized what he was holding. "Father's sword." Gareth traced the carvings on the golden hilt with his thumb before lifting his eyes back up to Nadar's face. "Why?" "Like I said, I thought 'twould bring you an extra dose of fortune. I've carried it with me since the day father died, and ne'er has it failed when once I lifted it against an enemy." 347

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Seeing Gareth's hesitation, Nadar shrugged. "If you'd rather not use it..." He grabbed for the hilt, but Gareth pulled it out of his reach. "You know I do. I'm just surprised, is all." Gareth slid the sword carefully into his sheath. "I wasn't expecting you to even be here, Nadar." "You wound me, brother." Nadar adopted an expression of mock hurt. "I'll have you know I left Vale the moment I received King Tristam's message." Tristam. Gareth should have known. Still, Nadar had made the choice to respond, and Gareth wanted his brother to know how grateful he was. He was just about to tell him so, when Nadar pulled a stack of banded papers from the pouch at his belt. "I've something else for you, as well. The sword is only to borrow, but this, you may keep." He came around the other side of Wycaster and laid the papers on the table. Gareth eyed the bundle with suspicion. "What's that?" "Your birthright. I find owning Lachlan doesn't suit me, after all." Nadar made a dismissive gesture with his hands. "What need I with another holding when I've work aplenty running Vale?" Gareth couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You realize that with Lachlan back in my hands—" "Your place as Jarric's son is once again acknowledged." Nadar came to stand in front of him so that the two of them were eye to eye. "I know what I'm doing. You swore to me you have no designs on Vale, and for the first time, I'm taking 348

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you at your word." The sincerity of his speech was interrupted by a wide yawn. "Unspeakable hour for a challenge." He clapped Gareth on the shoulder before making his way past him. "Grant me a boon and take Denmar's head off quick so I can be back abed." "Nadar?" Nadar stopped and turned back to face him. "Yes?" "Thank you." Gareth caressed the hilt of his father's sword. "For this, and all the rest." "You can thank me by cleaning every speck of Denmar's foul blood off the blade ere you give it back to me." Again Nadar turned to go but stopped just shy of leaving. "Sonya and Ellyce are waiting in the guest chambers. They'll want to see you as soon as this fight is over. I expect you to stay safe for their sakes." Gareth nodded and then watched his brother go, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "It seems miracles do indeed happen when least you expect them." Before Wycaster could answer, the throbbing wail of a trumpet sounded in the distance. "'Tis time, Sire." Wycaster reached for Gareth's helmet, seating it firmly atop his head before grabbing the shield from the table and strapping it to Gareth's left arm. Stepping back, Wycaster said, "I'll not wish you luck, my king." "No?" Wycaster shook his head. "You've skill enough to vanquish Denmar without relying on the twists of fortune." 349

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"I pray you're right, but either way, I want you sitting in the stands, guarding Alric's back with your life. Denmar is not above trickery, even at this late hour." Gareth adjusted the fit of the shield until it took on a comfortable feel. "I'll take no chances with Alric's safety until Denmar is rotting in the ground." "As you say, so it shall be done, Sire." Wycaster clapped his arm to his heart before leaving to do Gareth's bidding. Gareth stood alone in the bay and waited. To his relief, the wait was a short one. Another blast rang from the trumpet, and then the loud voice of the High King's herald sounded through the lists. "Hear ye, all citizens and guests of Banning. You are hence forth called to witness a test of skills between Gareth, King and Consort of Kray, and Lucien, Lord Denmar." Another blast was blown. "Combatants, step to the center of the arena." With purposeful, even strides Gareth made his way out of the bay and into the open. To his left, he saw Elwin and his entourage, sitting high in the center box of the stands. At Elwin's right sat a pale Alric, who was flanked by Glenna and Rowan. Tristam sat in front of them, with Finneas sitting directly behind Alric. Gareth's eyes darted to the top of the stands where Wycaster was perched, guarding Alric as promised. Assured that Alric was in good hands, Gareth continued his slow trek to the center of the arena. Denmar, with his helmet in his hands, met Gareth midway, a nauseating smile curving his lips. 350

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"A death challenge?" Denmar laughed as he secured the helmet on top of his head. "I have to hand it to you, Gareth, you have more courage than I gave you credit for." "'Tis you who'll need the courage, Denmar." Gareth stretched forth his folded hand, knuckles out in a chivalrous display. "Courage? I think not." Denmar pressed the knuckles of his gloved right hand against Gareth's, still smiling as he went. "So confident am I of winning the day, I brought my sons with me to witness my victory." With his head, Denmar motioned to the stands where sat two young, dark-haired boys in the company of an ancient nurse. "Which one, I wonder, will sit the throne of the High King after I'm gone?" Gareth ignored the treasonous barbs. Withdrawing his hand, he took a step back as the herald issued a call to arms. Pulling free his father's sword, Gareth moved into position, holding fast until the herald yelled, "Begin." Denmar was on him at once, but Gareth was ready. With his boots firmly rooted to the unyielding sod, Gareth met the man thrust for thrust before advancing with a driving blow of his own. Denmar anticipated the maneuver and countered with a jarring double-handed cut that glanced off Gareth's shield. Gareth recovered quickly and used the move to his advantage by throwing all his weight against the shield to push Denmar back. With Denmar thus unbalanced, the tide was turned in Gareth's favor, but just as Gareth made to deliver a felling stroke, Denmar jumped back with an ugly grin that chilled Gareth to the bone. 351

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"Much as I'm enjoying our play, Gareth, I believe 'tis time to end this farce." Denmar let loose with a shrill whistle. A feminine scream sounded from the stands. Keeping his sword at the ready, Gareth dared a glance into the stands, his heart freezing at what he saw. A black-clad soldier had Glenna by the throat, holding fast despite her struggles. Rowan and Tristam were trying to aid her, but Denmar's henchmen were keeping them at bay with their swords. Despite his promise, Wycaster appeared to be nowhere in sight. As Gareth watched, Alric stretched out his hand to help Glenna, but a call from behind the High King stopped him. Gareth's eyes traveled upward, to where Lord Vramon was holding a sword crossways against Elwin's throat. Grinning down at Alric, Vramon said, "I wouldn't do that if I were you. Lord Denmar has told me all about your powers, but they'll not help you now. I'll lop off Elwin's head ere you have the chance to stop me." With no choice, Alric dropped his hands. One of Denmar's men hurried to bind them behind Alric's back. Elwin's own guards were nowhere to be found, and Gareth had the sinking feeling he knew what had happened to them. That feeling was confirmed when Lord Trandower stepped from the crowd and called up to his lover, "Elwin's men have been taken care of. We've only to finish it now and victory will be ours." Despite the distance separating them, Gareth heard the words loud and clear. Keeping one eye on the stands, Gareth turned back to Denmar as fear and anger at having been so 352

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easily duped warred within him. "Didn't take you long to convince Vramon and Trandower to fall in league with you, did it?" "What can I say? Loyalty is easy enough to buy and sell these days if you know a man's price. Once Winthrop broke faith and the councilmen backing me were exposed, I had to do something." Denmar shrugged. "Not that it was difficult to persuade Vramon and Trandower to aid my cause, mind you. Elwin made it all too easy by dismissing the Council. At that point, Vramon and Trandower would have sold their souls for the chance to get even with him." "And sell their souls they did." Gareth took a step toward him. "The lot of you will roast in the Under Realms for this." "Perhaps, but not today." Keeping his sword trained on Gareth, Denmar called up to Elwin, "I want to thank you for being so accommodating, Majesty. Had you not granted Gareth permission to wage war against me in the first place, none of this would have been possible." A nasty smirk split his lips. "I'm going to enjoy ruling Orielle in your place. Pity you won't be around to see it." Elwin struggled against his captors, but even with only one eye trained on the stands, Gareth could tell it was a futile effort on the High King's part. Within moments, another wave of Denmar's men flooded the High King's box, and soon Tristam and Rowan were captured and disarmed, as well. To Gareth's horror, Trandower climbed up to where the guards were holding Alric, unsheathed his sword, and pressed the tip of the blade against Alric's chest, even with his heart. 353

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Swallowing down the fear as best he could, Gareth cast his full attention back on Denmar. "Let him go." "Making demands, are you?" Denmar laughed, the sound a coarse assault to Gareth's ears. "You can rest assured I have no intention of harming Alric so long as you cooperate." With the tip of his weapon, Denmar motioned to the ground. "Drop your sword." "No, Gareth. Don't listen to him." Alric's voice rang through the lists, causing Gareth to hesitate. "Silence." Denmar's eyes never left Gareth. "Lord Trandower, it seems yon Gareth has not yet grasped the seriousness of this situation. Perhaps you'd do well to remind him." From where he was standing Gareth could just see the movement of Trandower's free arm as he cuffed the side of Alric's head with force enough to make Alric stumble. The guard holding him pushed Alric to his feet, and Trandower reared back for another blow. "Wait." Unable to bear the sight of Alric taking another hit, Gareth dropped his father's sword onto the ground. "I thought you'd see it my way." Denmar took a step closer. "Kneel before me." Knowing that Denmar would harm Alric further if he didn't, Gareth had no choice but to comply with the obscene order. Alric yelled out a loud protest—as did someone else, probably Tristam—but Gareth couldn't afford to listen. Casting a last fleeting glance at Alric's face, Gareth went to his knees. "Excellent." Denmar took two more steps so that he was standing directly in front of Gareth. "Remove your helmet." 354

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Gareth untied the strap and cast the helmet onto the ground beside the sword. Once he was finished, Denmar said, "Now you will look at me." Gareth lifted his head just in time to catch Denmar's victorious smile. "Over the years, I've lost count of the number of men I've slain, but there is one thing I'm sure of: never will I have enjoyed a kill more than I'm going to enjoy this one." Denmar grasped the hilt of his sword with both hands and lifted the blade high above his head. "Good morrow, Gareth. Give my regards to Kiel." An anguished protest sounded from the stands, and Gareth closed his eyes as he prepared himself to receive Denmar's death blow. He was still waiting for the fatal strike when a new sound intruded: the sound of metal clashing with metal. Gareth opened his eyes to find that Denmar's attention had also been diverted by a commotion coming from the stands. Fearing for Alric's life, Gareth looked up to see that Wycaster was engaged in a sword fight with Vramon. A group of soldiers wearing Vale's colors were fighting Denmar's men. Thanking The Creator for the miracle he'd been granted, Gareth lunged for his sword. Unfortunately, Denmar chose that moment to recover his wits. He struck out just as Gareth reached for the sword's hilt. Gareth rolled to the side as Denmar's blade lanced off the sleeve of his mail. Denmar was on him before he could recover, the blade poised at the base of Gareth's throat.

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"I was hoping to take your head off, but this will have to do." Denmar drew back his arm, ready to drive the sword through Gareth's windpipe. What made him do it, Gareth couldn't say, but at that moment he stretched out his right arm as if to ward off the blow. He expected to feel the weight of Denmar's sword as it crashed through his flesh and bone, but nothing prepared Gareth for the searing heat that raced from his elbow through his wrist and into the palm of his hand. The stench of smoke stung his nostrils and as Gareth blinked to clear his eyes, five thick, amber tongues of glittering flame burst from his fingertips. Denmar jumped back with a hoarse scream, but it was too late. The flame was already licking its way up his legs. Stunned, Gareth jerked back his hand, and in so doing the flames died away from his fingers. Before Gareth had time to reason the truth of what had just happened, he looked over to see that Denmar was trying to extinguish himself. Forcing himself to concentrate, Gareth took ruthless advantage of Denmar's plight. With a rolling dive, he grabbed Jarric's sword and swung himself onto his feet. Denmar was still battling the flames, but he had the presence of mind to swing his sword outward in a wide arc meant to cut Gareth's legs from underneath him. But Gareth was prepared. He dodged the swing with a dancing sidle before hefting his father's sword high above his head. Without thinking twice, he slammed it deep into his enemy's chest, ending Denmar's reign of terror for all time. 356

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As Gareth drove the blade home, he had the fleeting thought that the fight in the stands must have ended, for Denmar's gurgling death rattle was the only sound Gareth heard. It wasn't until he pulled the sword free of the bastard's corpse, that Gareth recognized a new sound: that of racing feet. He looked up to see Alric coming toward him at a full run. Letting Jarric's sword slide from his fingers, Gareth opened his arms and took Alric in. Nothing was said as he pulled Alric's trembling body against his own shaking form, but Gareth thought it was just as well. There would be time enough for explanations later. At that moment, Gareth wanted nothing more than to hold Alric tight and thank The Creator they were both alive.

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Chapter Seventeen Elwin handed Gareth a silver cup full of something dark and stout before going back to a cabinet built into the far wall and filling another one. They were in the High King's private solar, and Gareth could think of nothing he needed more than a stiff drink. Cup in hand, Elwin came back to the table where Gareth and Alric were sitting. He passed the draught to Alric before taking a seat across from the bench Gareth and Alric were using. Gareth took a long, grateful drink. Seeing that Elwin was empty handed, he placed his cup on the table and said, "Aren't you having any?" "No." Elwin pushed unsteady fingers through his short, dark hair. "I need my wits about me if I'm to come to terms with what just happened." He placed his elbows on the table and propped his head in his hands. "I still can't believe Vramon and Trandower allied themselves with scum like Denmar. No matter their feelings toward me ... to execute my personal guards..." He lifted his eyes and Gareth could see his pain. "Saints, what a mess." Gareth couldn't have summed it up any better, and was about to say so when a haggard Tristam came in, followed by a bloody Rowan. Alric took one look at the crimson stains marring Rowan's tunic and turned a ghastly shade of white. "My sister..." "Is just fine, thanks to Finn and Wycaster's quick thinking." Rowan looked down at his ruined shirt. "This is Trandower's 358

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blood, may he and Vramon rot in everlasting damnation." He came to place a brotherly arm on Alric's shoulder. "Glenna is unharmed. She's in our chamber, lying down." Alric closed his eyes. "Thank The Creator for that." Gareth was as relieved as Alric to hear that Glenna was well, but something Rowan said gave him pause. "What do you mean, 'Thanks to Finn and Wycaster?'" He took a quick glance around the room. "Perhaps 'tis time I was told the full tale." Tristam took the bench next to Gareth's. "Finneas had one of his visions just as you and Denmar were preparing to begin. He slipped up to warn Wycaster, and while the Kray commander was moving into place, Finn leapt from the back of the stands and went in search of reinforcements. Since Vramon and Trandower had taken care of Elwin's personal guard—" "Young Finn had the good sense to seek me out. Caught me just as my men and I were heading back to the castle, and 'tis a good thing he did." This came from Nadar, who stepped into the room without waiting for an invitation. When Elwin looked up at him with raised brows, Nadar gave a sheepish grin. "Sorry. Didn't mean to intrude, but I had to see to my brother's welfare." He came to stand beside Gareth. "Are you well?" "Yes, thanks to you, apparently," Gareth said. "What I don't understand is, why weren't you in the stands with the others when the challenge began?"

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Nadar hesitated for a moment, and Gareth could sense his discomfort. Finally, Nadar said, "Think you I wanted to watch such a spectacle? What if you'd gotten injured, or worse?" Gareth couldn't stop the grin that spread over his face. "In other words, you were overridden with concern for my wellbeing." Nadar snorted. "Concerned your empty head would be cleaved in two, more like." He made a face. "'Twas bad enough when I rushed to the rescue at Finneas's bequest and saw you kneeling in front of Denmar like a willing sacrifice." Alric shuddered. "Please, don't remind me." From under the table, Gareth took Alric's hand. "Rest easy, Alric. I'm fine now." "Are you really?" Alric's eyes seemed to be asking him something else entirely, and it was then that Gareth knew Alric had seen everything. He was just wondering how much the others had seen when Tristam chimed in with a question of his own. "What I want to know is, how did you bring Denmar down in the first place? One moment you were just a breath away from feeling the bite of his blade, and the next you were standing over him victorious." "I've been wondering the same thing," Rowan said. "We were all so busy running those treasonous bastards to ground, we missed your winning moment." Relief coursed through him as Gareth realized his secret was safe. "You missed nothing more spectacular than my taking advantage of the diversion you created," he lied. "'Twas easy enough to knock Denmar's feet from underneath 360

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him once his attention was on the riot in the stands." Gareth shrugged. "I knocked him down, then grabbed father's sword and finished him off." Tristam eyed him closely. "Just like that?" "Yes." Gareth kept his tone even. "Why?" "It doesn't seem fitting, is all." It was Tristam's turn to shrug. "As much havoc as Denmar caused, to die such a mundane end..." He sighed. "I suppose I was hoping for a more spectacular finish." "Well I, for one, am simply glad 'tis over." Rowan clapped Alric on the shoulder once more before turning toward the door. "I'd best go check on Finn and then return to Glenna." Alric stayed Rowan with a hand to his arm. "Is Finn all right?" Rowan nodded. "He received only minor injuries during the fight with Denmar's men, as did the Kray commander." "Wycaster was hurt?" This was the first Gareth had heard of it. "Peace, Gareth," said Elwin. "I checked on both your commander and Finneas ere I came up here, and I can tell you they're in good health. Your own physician, young Balthazar, assures me their injuries are naught but piddling flesh wounds." "See? 'Twas just as I told you." Rowan flashed Gareth a smile before heading toward the door. "I'll see you both later, after you've had a chance to rest." "I should be going as well." Nadar stretched as if he'd been standing in one place for too long. "Sonya and Ellyce won't 361

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rest easy until I assure them all is well with you and besides, I've still to retrieve Father's sword from the lists." Gareth caught his brother's hand before Nadar could leave. "Again, I would thank you for everything you've done this day." Nadar gave Gareth's fingers a rough squeeze before pulling his hand away. "Yes, well ... no need to go all maudlin on me, is there?" The gruff response was ruined by the slight smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "I expect you to come and greet the girls as soon as you're able." Gareth nodded and watched his brother go, so caught up in the wonder of seeing this new side of Nadar that it took him a moment to realize Tristam was speaking to him. "I'm sorry. What?" Tristam rolled his eyes. "I asked you what your father's sword was doing down on the lists, but I can see you're in no shape to answer any more questions for now." He stood. "There will be time enough for explanations later." Swinging first once leg and then the other over the bench, Tristam looked to the High King. "If you'll excuse me, Sire, I'm off to find myself a tall, stiff drink." Elwin folded his hands on top of the table. "I'd offer you some of what Gareth and Alric are having, but in truth there are a few things I must discuss with them in private, King Tristam." "I'll leave you to it, then." Tristam brushed past Gareth on his way to the door. "Don't ever scare me like that again. I fear my heart cannot take it." 362

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"Believe me when I tell you I'll do my best." Gareth bumped Tristam's middle with his elbow. "Thank you, brother, for always looking after my best interests." "You'd do the same for me." And in a rare display of affection, Tristam hugged Gareth to him before turning and walking out. It wasn't until Tristam was gone that Gareth realized Elwin was watching him. Growing more uncomfortable by the second under Elwin's unwavering gaze, Gareth said, "Is there something you wanted from me, Sire?" "I was just admiring the skill you showed in spinning that tale for the others." Elwin didn't so much as blink. "I do so admire a well-crafted fairy's tale." Gareth swallowed. "I don't know what you mean, Sire." "Oh, I think you do." Elwin drummed his fingers against the tabletop. "You see, Gareth, unlike the others, I saw everything that happened down on that field." Gareth's mouth went dry, and he was unable to answer. Alric came to his rescue. "Your Majesty, Gareth and I had no idea—" "You owe me no explanations." Elwin looked back and forth between them both. "As far as I'm concerned, what happened down there today is no one's business but your own, and the truth will not leave the boundaries of this room." He straightened in his seat. "Some of the vendors and spectators no doubt saw what happened, but my men are swearing them to silence even as we speak. For now we've a 363

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more pressing concern to deal with, namely the matter of Denmar's estate." Gareth shook his head. "Denmar has no estate. Tristam and I laid waste to his holdings and ruined his properties." "So he wanted you to believe, but according to the those in league with him, Denmar had hidden assets no one knew of." "Those in league with him?" Gareth hardly dared hope Denmar's cohorts were talking. "You mean the disgraced members of the High Council?" "Indeed. Since news of Denmar's demise has reached the dungeons, it seems the councilors are most anxious to avoid a similar fate. Not that it will do them any good." Elwin's eyes flared with the grim promise of retribution. "Now that they've incriminated themselves fully, the executions will proceed in record time." Gareth could think of no one more deserving of such a fate than the men who'd betrayed the very king they'd sworn to serve, but there was something he didn't quite understand. "What does Denmar's estate have to do with me?" "You've defeated the man in a death challenge." Elwin spoke as if surprised Gareth didn't already know the answer to his own question. "According to the laws of Orielle, everything that belonged to Lucien of Denmar must now pass to you." Gareth hadn't thought of that, but there was one thing he was certain of. "I want nothing of Denmar's. You can pass it on to the poor or sell it on the streets for all I care." 364

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"Would that it were so simple." Elwin came to his feet with a weary sigh. "Perhaps the two of you had better come with me." Gareth and Alric rose as one from the bench and then followed Elwin through the solar to a private balcony overlooking Banning's great hall. Once at the rail, Elwin pointed down. "There sits the real treasures Denmar left behind." Gareth looked down to see the two small boys and the old nurse Denmar had pointed out when they were greeting each other on the lists. The oldest of the boys was sitting on the floor playing with some sort of poppet, while the nurse was working to quiet the fretting babe. With his thumb, Elwin indicated the oldest child. "His name is Talon, or so the nurse told me. The woman wasn't certain how old he was, but she estimates him to have passed three summers." "The babe in the shed." Alric spoke so softly, only Gareth heard him. He was standing behind Gareth, his eyes riveted to the dark-haired boy. Gareth had no doubt he was remembering the torment he'd suffered at Denmar's hands. If Elwin noticed the interplay between the two of them, he didn't comment. Instead, he continued gazing down at the children. "The youngest is no more than a year, and from what the nurse tells me, he has no name." "No name?" Alric's voice was thick with disbelief, but Gareth had no trouble believing the depths of Denmar's loathsome coldness. 365

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"His children were like everything else in Denmar's life: pawns in his never-ending quest for power." "Too true." Elwin agreed with Gareth's assessment. "From what I've gathered, these two," he again pointed to the boys, "shared the same mother. The nurse claims the poor woman died in childbirth, but knowing Denmar, he could have just as easily ended her life once he tired of her." Elwin turned away from the railing so that he was facing the both of them. "Unfortunately, that's not the worst of it. Denmar brought with him to Banning a slave girl, a woman named Zalista whom he abducted during one of his many raids." "Allow me to guess," Gareth said. "The girl is with child." "I'm afraid so. She's three months into her confinement, or so she believes. I've spoken with her, and I can tell you true that she's little more than a child herself. She wants nothing to do with the babe once it's born, meaning Denmar has, in essence, left behind three motherless children." Elwin braced his hands behind himself on the rail. "I'm assuming you're starting to realize just what your victory over Denmar means." "Yes." Gareth knew with grim certainty what Elwin was saying. "The fate of all three children is in my hands." "That's the sum of it." Elwin tapped his fingers against the railing. "You hold their futures in your palm." The responsibility of it made Gareth feel as if he'd aged twenty years in the last five minutes. "I suppose I could find a family to take them, perhaps even place them with a childless couple of noble blood." 366

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"Perhaps, but I've a better idea." Elwin sounded as if he'd already given the matter much thought. "I think you and Alric should raise them yourselves." Gareth looked at Elwin as if he'd gone mad. "You can't be serious." "Why not?" Elwin crossed his arms over his chest. "From watching the two of you together, I've surmised yours is a loving household. I can think of no better people to give a child the stability he needs than a couple so obviously devoted to one another." His voice softened. "Don't you want children, Gareth?" "Yes, but what you're asking..." Gareth couldn't believe he even had to say it. "How can you ask me to raise the offspring of my mortal enemy?" "What I'm asking is for you to take in three babes who are as much a victim of Denmar's evil as you and yours." With one hand, Elwin gave his scar an absent-minded scratch. "I don't believe in visiting the sins of the father on hapless innocents, and I'm willing to wager you don't, either." In his head, Gareth knew Elwin was right, but convincing his heart was another matter entirely. "'Tis impossible, this thing you ask of me." "As I said, 'tis entirely your choice.." Elwin pushed away from the rail and started back into the solar. "Take whatever time you need to decide. Until then, the children will continue to be treated as my honored guests." Gareth gave the High King little more than an answering bob of the head as he watched him leave. Turning back around, he looked down on the boys, innocent and yet 367

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forever tainted by Denmar's blood. He didn't realize he'd spoken the thought aloud until Alric came to stand beside him at the railing. "Weren't you the one trying so hard to convince me that my own blood was pure?" "That was different." Gareth watched as the oldest boy rose on pudgy legs and toddled over to the still-fussing babe. "You thought your blood poisoned. This ... this is something else entirely." "Perhaps, but it seems my blood holds more power than either of us thought." Using one finger, Alric traced the healing mark on Gareth's wrist. "In sharing my life's flow with you, it seems I've passed on my grandfather's curse." "Saving my life in the process." Still staring down at the children, Gareth slipped his arm around Alric's waist. "You mustn't forget that part. Creator knows I won't." "As if I could." Instead of leaning into him, Alric pulled back and pointed down just as the boy called Talon wrapped his arms around the babe. Instantly, the babe went quiet. "There's no denying the power of blood," Alric said, "but I'm a firm believer that any man can take what he's been given and bring good out of it. Especially when that man has been raised by loving parents who've worked hard to teach him the difference between right and wrong." "Are you telling me you want to take Denmar's children as our own?" Gareth found it hard to believe Alric was even thinking about this, yet as he searched his husband's face, he felt sure he had his answer. 368

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"I'm not going to answer that question except to say I support you no matter what you decide." Gareth blew out a harsh breath. "In other words, the full brunt of this falls on me." "You'll make the right decision, Gareth. Of that, I have no doubt." With that prediction hanging in the air between them, Alric turned and left. How long he stood there after Alric left him to his thoughts, Gareth couldn't say. He only knew he was no closer to finding an answer once he finally pushed away from the rail and followed the path Alric had taken. **** That evening, the whole of Banning Castle rang with feasting and merriment in celebration of Gareth's victory. Trenchers overflowed with specially prepared delicacies like roast duck and candied squab. Troubadours and stringed musicians competed at top volume to bring forth songs of praise and tales of triumph, and the High King himself offered a toast to Gareth's bravery. As for Gareth, he was enjoying himself well enough, he supposed. He'd shared a joyful reunion with his sisters and even passed a pleasant hour swapping stories of Jarric with Nadar. As for the feast itself, he was flattered to be at the center of it all, but for some reason Gareth felt he was more going along with the motions than actually celebrating his own victory. Finally, about halfway through the festivities, he found he'd had enough. Excusing himself from Tristam, who was 369

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well into his cups after the unbearable tension of the day, Gareth said, "I'll be back in a moment." He pointed to Alric, who was on the other side of the room, deep in conversation with Glenna and Rowan. "Should Alric come looking for me, tell him I've gone to catch a breath of fresh air." "That, I will do." Tristam gave him a rather fumbling pat on the back. "Now enjoy your walk, while I partake of another glass from Elwin's fine wine cellar." Gareth couldn't help smiling over Tristam's drunken enthusiasm. He certainly didn't envy him the headache he knew Tristam would suffer come the morrow. Knowing Tristam well enough to know it would do him no good to point that out at this stage, Gareth left him to it and headed out the side door to the hallway beyond. He'd intended to go outside, but for some reason Gareth found himself headed for the guest quarters, instead. Without allowing himself time to think about what he was doing, he stopped a passing servant and questioned the man until he got what he needed. Information in hand, Gareth walked down to the last door on the left. The sound of childish laughter told him he was in the right place. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open. Little Talon was sitting on the floor, his pudgy legs stuck out in front of him. In his hands he held the crumbling remains of a pastry. From the look of him the boy had gotten more of the treat on his face and fingers than he'd managed to put in his mouth. 370

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Talon looked up as Gareth came in, a broad, crumb-filled smile splitting his cherubic face. "Here now." Gareth's voice sounded gruff to his own ears, and he gentled it as best he could. "What are you doing still awake at this hour?" "Talon, what are ye—" The old nurse came in from the adjoining room, breaking off when she saw Gareth standing there. Falling into a deep curtsy, she said, "Beggin' yer pardon, Sire. I had no ken ye was here." "Never mind that." He pointed to Talon. "Why isn't this child in bed?" For reasons he couldn't explain, Gareth was outraged at the thought that this woman was neglecting her responsibilities to the children. "'Tis the music, Sire." She jabbed a wrinkled thumb in the direction of the hall, and for the first time, Gareth realized the sounds of dancing and laughter could be clearly heard. The old woman smiled down at Talon. "I've tried all I can think to get this wee one abed, but he's havin' none o' it." Gareth wasn't satisfied. "Do you always give him sweets this close to bedtime?" "Oh, no, Sire. The old master, he allowed no treats for the babes, but now 'at he's gone, I thought a lil' sweet would be a'right." Gareth was about to answer her when Talon lifted the hand holding the pastry out to Gareth. "Bite?" "Saints love 'em." The nurse gave a cackling, toothless laugh. "The wee master wants to share with ye, Sire." Her pale eyes sparkled with fondness as she gazed down at the child. "Such a sweet one he is, in spite o' how the old master 371

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treated him. Ye'd think the boys would be rotten to the core after the way they was ignored, but they're both as good an' pure as the day they was borned." Again, Talon offered the treat to Gareth. "Bite?" Gareth shook his head before turning back to the nurse. "Is he only just learning to speak?" He thought sure a child of three summers should be further along. The woman nodded her graying head. "Lord Denmar, may he rot, didn't want no one getting too close to the boys, including their mama, Creator rest her poor soul. But he's a bright one, he is, an' with the proper care, he'll come along right nice." Gareth was about to ask another question when a shrill cry sounded from the next room. "The poor love must be hungry," the old woman said. Bobbing another quick curtsy to Gareth, she turned toward the door. "I'd best be fetchin' his wet nurse." Gareth made to stop her, but she was gone before he could. He was once again left alone with the boy. If it bothered Talon to be in the presence of a stranger, he didn't show it. Instead, he regarded Gareth with warm blue eyes before pushing to his feet. Toddling across the room, he stopped at Gareth's boots and raised his chubby arms. "Up." Gareth's first thought was to ignore the command and flee the room, but Talon had neither the temper nor the patience to be denied. Stamping one tiny, bare foot, he repeated his command. "Up." He'd faced warriors in the heat of battle that intimidated him less, but Gareth soon realized he had not the heart to 372

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refuse the child. With trembling hands, he reached down and took Talon into his arms. Talon laughed with delight as Gareth lifted him to eye level. As Gareth settled the boy into his arms, Talon dropped his pastry, took Gareth's face between his miniscule hands, and gave him a smacking kiss on the cheek. Whether it happened right then or whether his mind had already been changed, Gareth couldn't say, but he knew in that instant that Talon and his brother had stopped being Denmar's kin and had simply become just what they were: little boys in desperate need of someone to love and care for them. Resolve melting with each step he took, Gareth carried the sticky child across the room to the washstand. "What's say we wash you up, lad?" Gareth reached for a clean cloth, laughing as the child anticipated what he was going to do and tried to squirm away. He dunked the cloth and wrung it dry before carefully scrubbing the crumbs from Talon's face. "There now. I know 'tis not the most pleasant of tasks, but you'll feel better once I'm done." Talon's squealing protests told Gareth he disagreed with the pronouncement, but Gareth soon had him clean. Tossing the rag back into the basin, he carried Talon to the chair beside the boy's bed. "What's say we see if we can get you to sleep?" The boy's only answer was a wide-eyed grin, the sight of which enchanted Gareth. He settled Talon into the crook of his arm and was just searching his memory for a story that 373

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might put the boy to sleep when the soft sound of footsteps near the doorway told him they were no longer alone. Gareth looked up, unsurprised to find himself the subject of Alric's unwavering silver gaze. "You followed me." "Yes, and it's a good thing, else I would have missed this tender scene." Alric gifted him with a slow smile. "Reminds me of the night at Drystan when you walked in and I was holding Calla." "Yes, only our roles were reversed." Talon wiggled in his arms, and Gareth sighed. "Are these things always so fidgety?" Alric laughed. "You've probably had about as much experience with small children as I, but since Glenna constantly complains that Stefan is never still, the answer to that question seems to be yes." "He's smaller than Stefan." Gareth frowned. "The nurse told me Denmar isolated the boys as much as possible." "Sounds about right for Denmar." Alric studied Talon but made no move to come any closer. "I imagine the right amount of love and attention will soon undo all traces of Denmar's neglect. As soon as we find the boys a proper family, the healing process will begin." Talon snuggled against Gareth's chest and let out a loud yawn. With just that motion, Gareth's decision was made. He glanced from Talon's sleepy face to Alric's more speculative one. "And if I told you I think I've already found a place for all three children?" Alric raised both brows. "Have you?" 374

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"I'm not certain what kind of father I'll make." Gareth mopped the sweat from his brow with his free hand. "What if at some point I'm proven incapable of separating these babes from the truth of their origins?" "We both know that isn't going to happen." Gareth wanted desperately to believe it, but the fear still held him. "How can you be certain?" "What do you see when you look at me, Gareth?" Alric stepped over the threshold and came fully into the room. "Do you see the fact that Denmar and I were once wed each time you look into my eyes?" "You know better than that. All I see is you, the man that I love." "You've just proven my point." Alric came to stand beside his chair. "You're an open and giving man. Soon you'll remember not where these little ones came from, only that they belong to you heart and soul." "And what of you?" Gareth lowered his voice as Talon began drifting off. "Yesterday you weren't certain you were ready to become a father. What say you now?" "I say yesterday is gone and tomorrow is already off to a promising start." Alric smiled down at Talon. "I've always thought a man needed at least three children, have I told you that?" "No, you haven't." A lump formed in Gareth's throat. He forced it aside as he rose to his feet. Carrying Talon to his bed, he tucked the boy beneath the covers. "Rest easy, lad. We've a long journey come the morrow." 375

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Talon's only answer was the soft rise and fall of his chest as he snuggled beneath the blankets. Once assured the boy was tired enough to sleep, Gareth went to the door between the rooms and gave a swift knock. The old nurse answered the summons at once. "Yes, Sire?" "See that you and the children are packed, and make sure the woman called Zalista is prepared, as well." "Are we leaving then, Sire?" "Tomorrow at first light." Gareth swallowed. "I'm taking my family home." "Yes, me king. I'll have Talon and the wee babe ready for ye." "Declan." The nurse paused. "Beggin' yer pardon, Sire?" "A babe needs a name," Gareth said. "From here on in, our youngest son shall be called Declan." The nurse nodded before going back into the other room. Alric came up behind Gareth, slipping strong arms around his waist. "I thank you for that." "No need to thank me." Gareth turned in the circle of his embrace. "I never thought I'd say this, but the greatest day of my life was the day Declan of Kray forced me to wed his son. Who'd have thought ours would become a union so true in every meaning of the word?" Alric sighed. "I only wish Father were here to see the fruits of his handiwork." "Somehow, I have the feeling he knows." And with the certainty that Declan was well-pleased, indeed, Gareth leaned in for a kiss. 376

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Epilogue Talon stood on his tiptoes, trying his best to see over the edge of the cradle. "Is that her?" Gareth lifted his son into his arms so that he had a better view. "This is your baby sister. Her name is Leandra." Talon wrinkled his nose. "She smells funny, Papa." Alric came in with eighteen-month-old Declan on his shoulders. "I wager you smelled funny too, at that age. I'm afraid all babes do." He pretended to drop Declan then, laughing when the child squealed his delight. "Saints, but I wish you wouldn't do that," Gareth said once his heart returned to a normal rhythm. "You're going to drop him on his head one of these days." Alric rolled his eyes. "No, I'm not." Kissing Declan's fuzzy head, he brought the babe against his chest. "Declan knows his daddy's got him, don't you, pumpkin?" Declan laughed and wrapped his plump arms around Alric's neck. As for Talon, he continued to study his little sister from the safe haven of Gareth's arms. Finally, he said, "She's broken." Gareth stared down at the sleeping child, who to his way of thinking was absolutely perfect. "She's only a few hours old, son. All babes are red and wrinkled at this stage, or so the nurse tells me." "Not that. When Nurse changed her." Talon pointed to the area in question. "She doesn't look like me and Declan." "And to think we were so excited when you learned to speak in complete sentences." Still holding Declan tight, Alric 377

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leaned over to kiss Talon's grubby cheek. "I'll explain the difference between girl babes and boy babes later. Right now your father and I have something to discuss." Alric motioned to the nurse they'd engaged, who was standing in the corner trying not to laugh. "Besides," Alric said, "I believe 'tis someone's nap time." Talon made a face as the nurse took Declan from Alric's arms. "I'm not tired." Gareth gave Talon a tight squeeze before setting him down. "You have to rest or else I won't be able to take you riding this afternoon." As Gareth had known it would, the promise of a ride brought Talon's protests to an end. He scampered after the nurse, who was leading Declan through the door to the other part of the nursery. Alric leaned over the cradle, smoothing the covers over his daughter's sleeping form. "Leandra. Seems like a big name for such a small girl." "Maybe, but it was only fitting to name her after your mother since we named Declan after your father." Gareth leaned over to brush one finger across her downy soft cheek. "She'll grow into it." "Of that, I have no doubt." Alric stepped back. "Perhaps we'll have another son and daughter so we can name them after your parents." "Let us get these three raised first," Gareth said. "I fear my hair will be white through ere they make it to adulthood." "You love being a father, and well you know it." Alric took him by the hand, leading him away from the cradle and 378

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toward the door. "Speaking of which, I have good news. A messenger came from Banning not an hour ago. Our petition has been approved. Talon, as oldest son, has been recognized as heir to the throne of Kray." Gareth smiled, but Alric must have seen the worry behind his eyes, because he stopped walking and said, "What's wrong? I thought you'd be happy." "Of course I'm happy, but..." Gareth let free with a long sigh. "I can't banish from my mind the fear that Talon will come to hate me once he learns the truth of how his real father died." "Gareth, look at me." Alric tipped Gareth's chin up with one finger. "You are Talon's real father, far more real than Denmar ever was to the boy. Already, the man is nothing more than a fading memory in Talon's mind." He caressed Gareth's stubbly jaw. "When Talon is old enough, we'll tell him the truth. He'll understand you did the only thing you could have done, as will Declan and Leandra." Wanting desperately to believe that Alric was right, Gareth forced the fear from his mind. "Speaking of Leandra, how's her mother doing?" It was Alric's turn to sigh. "As far as the birthing ordeal goes, Balthazar assures me she's fine, but emotionally ... 'tis as if something inside her is broken." His hand fell away from Gareth's jaw. "Zalista and the boys' old nurse seemed to have formed a bond back at Banning, so I brought the old woman up from the village this morning, hoping she could talk some sense into Zalista." "I take it that didn't work." 379

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Alric shook his head. "Zalista still refuses to so much as look at Leandra. She's set on leaving Kray as soon as Balthazar deems her well enough to travel." He pushed his hair back from his eyes. "Don't get me wrong. I'm grateful to her for giving us our daughter, but I feel she should at least want to see Leandra before she leaves." "Perhaps, but we can't force the issue," Gareth said. "I gave Zalista my word I'd return her to her people as soon as she was able." He glanced back at the cradle. "I also promised she'd be amply rewarded for allowing us to take Leandra as our own. There's nothing else we can do." Alric made a face. "I know." He led Gareth out, then, before closing the nursery door behind them. "Speaking of rewards, there was a private note from Elwin included in the announcement recognizing Talon as heir." "Oh?" "Yes. It seems Elwin has decided to reward Finn for his heroism in foiling Denmar's plot by granting Finn dominion over one of the reorganized kingdoms." "Finn's to be a king?" Gareth shuddered. "Creator help his subjects." Alric gave him a light elbow to the ribs. "He's to be a duke, if I understood Elwin correctly, but that's not the half of it." His eyes gleamed in the light filtering though the hallway. "With our permission, Elwin wishes to reward Wycaster for his role in Denmar's downfall, as well, by offering him the position of Banning's chief man-at-arms." "You sound as if you approve." "Why wouldn't I?" 380

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Gareth shrugged. "Wycaster's been with Kray a long while. I assumed 'twould be difficult for you to let him go." "I admit, I'm going to miss him." Alric smiled. "He's risked his life more than once on my behalf, and I look on him as a valued friend. 'Tis for those very reasons I owe him this opportunity." Gareth understood. "We'll put the question to him, then, and allow the decision to be wholly his." "Yes, but later. Tonight, after the evening meal, maybe." "Why not now?" "Because now all three of our children are down for a nap." Alric's eyes danced with mischief. "By my count, we have at least one, childfree hour in which to entertain ourselves." Gareth's blood began to heat with a fire that had nothing to do with his newly acquired talents. "Have you a certain activity in mind?" "I just might." Alric turned and made for their chamber, stopping just long enough to say over his shoulder, "Why don't you come with me and find out?" Knowing a choice offer when he heard one, Gareth followed hot on Alric's heels.

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