by Frank Morin
"Did you get hit too many times? Today's reckoning seemed pretty complete to me."
Evander leaned forward. "When a monster is born to lay waste to the world, when best would you slay it?"
Connor thought of the deadly nuall that ranged the Maclachlan Mountains. "Well if you knew it was a monster when it was born, why not kill it before it grew strong?"
Evander nodded and his huge fists curled around the knobs of the chair's arms. His voice was still soft, but carried an edge of threat. "And yet I waited until you awoke."
Those spine-chilling rushes of fear were getting really old. He hated to think his life might be in more danger lying in that soft bed than it had been during any time on the battlefield. He glanced toward the door, but escape was impossible.
He licked suddenly dry lips. "Why did you wait?"
"When will the potential become the choice? That is the question that toppled kingdoms of old and holds in thrall the balance of lives even now."
"I don't understand."
"The greatest threat of your condition is thus spoken by your own lips."
"What is my condition?" Connor asked, although he wasn't sure he wanted to know yet another hidden truth that might kill him. "Teach me how to not become a monster."
"A brick may build or destroy, but the hand that throws it chooses to make it a missile."
"I don't understand."
Evander cracked a smile. "Of this truth, one cannot argue."
"Well, if you'd share your knowledge instead of spoon-feeding bits and pieces to Jean, maybe I'd understand enough to be wiser."
"The raindrop, though tiny, may flood the greatest castle, when united with sufficient brethren." He paused, then added, "As the child grows, its meals increase, and thus the spoon may become a ladle."
Connor took that as a hopeful sign. Either Evander was promising to share more freely what he knew, or it was just about dinner time. He'd welcome either event.
The giant man rose from his seat, towering over Connor. "The time of my choice is at hand and the world will bear witness if I chose folly or wisdom."
He turned and walked to the door, but turned again. "The time of your choice will come. Do not force me to change my course."
"I won't."
What else could he say?
Evander bowed his head and muttered, "But of the other, what confusion clouds that choice and when will we know?"
Then he left.
Connor lay back in the bed and blew out a relieved sigh. What was that all about? Even for a Sentry, that man was confusing. He needed to find Jean. She'd spoken with Evander more. Maybe she could act as a translator.
He needed to get out of Shona's apartment and find Verena. Was she all right? Had the truce held, or had she fled with Hamish and Ilse's company? He shuddered to think that after fighting so bravely together against the elfonnel that his army would have turned immediately upon Ilse's band. He refused to believe they'd been killed, but that left him with the problem of finding them and figuring out how to plan his exit again. He could have picked a better time to faint.
Instead of his battle leathers, he found a fine pair of dark gray, linen slacks, a snowy, white shirt, and a black leather vest. With nothing else to wear, he donned the outfit and exited Shona's apartments. He was as hungry as Hamish after a six-hour fast.
Before he could find the kitchen, Lord Nevan appeared and actually bowed. That was almost as unnerving as waking in Shona's room with Evander hulking over him.
Lord Nevan took his arm and led him down the grand staircase toward the main entrance. "Come, master Connor. Everyone's been waiting for you."
"Why?"
Lord Nevan chuckled. "Your modesty is charming. You defeated the elfonnel and somehow returned from the terrible fate of the unclaimed. You are declared champion. Given the situation, the declaration is to be held forthwith, along with your choosing."
Connor was still trying to argue for more time when Lord Nevan dragged him out the main double doors into the late afternoon sunlight. A huge crowd waited for him in the street. Most were student soldiers, but some were linn workers or school administrators. As soon as he appeared, they cheered. Papil shouted, her voice enhanced by quartzite and booming across the Carraig grounds.
"He has awakened! Come celebrate the victory of the Blood of the Tallan!"
People rushed forward in a flood, fighting to shake his hand or hug him. Many of the girls grabbed his face and planted passionate kisses.
Connor tried to appreciate their enthusiasm, but his heart felt like a lump of ice. They adored him, thanked him for saving their lives, and even swore allegiance to him. With every well-meaning word, they tightened the bands of his captivity. More crowds came running, adding to the wild, festive atmosphere and pushing for their turn to touch him.
Finally, Lord Nevan restored a semblance of calm and the entire procession moved toward the main gate in the inner wall. Many of the towering palaces had been damaged, and the streets were covered with rubble and shattered basalt sheathing. Instead of risking the ruined inner grounds, a makeshift stage had been constructed right across the inner gate. There they would officially declare him champion, there they would expect his choice.
He still didn't see Verena, Hamish, or any of the Grandurians. He hoped that meant they'd escaped. He couldn't imagine how he was going to follow. He was out of porphyry, and turning unclaimed had been his one trump card. Even if he did find some, now that he'd turned and returned, would that even work to break his hold on Shona?
As they walked in a huge, jubilant throng, Princess Catriona pushed through to his side. She had changed out of her battle leathers and wore a fine gown that she did not seem to care was being dirtied by the press.
"General, so glad to see you feeling better."
"Thank you. You fought well today."
"If you really think so, may I ask a boon?"
Really? She was asking a boon of him? The world had gone crazy.
"Sure."
She blushed and leaned closer so others could not easily overhear. "I know you're tied to Shona's house and she has to be your choice for first breeding rights."
It still amazed him that they could speak of such things without any hesitation, as if discussing what course to choose for dinner.
She rushed on. "But the boon I ask is that you choose me for second breeding rights."
That surprised him enough that he stopped in his tracks and was nearly trampled by the crowd pushing from behind. "What are you talking about?"
Catriona looked startled. "I'm sorry. Of course you wouldn't know."
"Know what?" He was seriously considering beating her over the head with her own spiky shoes.
"The listener post was not damaged in the elfonnel's attack, so word has already reached Donleavy of the battle here and of your heroics."
"Thanks," he managed. Great, now the king knew about his curse. The feeling of a noose tightening around his neck grew more pronounced.
Shona slipped past Nevan to Connor's side and slid a possessive arm around his waist. She wore a form-fitting, crimson blouse and royal blue skirt. She looked stunning. Worse, she seemed completely confident and at ease beside him, despite having good reason to worry he'd moved beyond her direct control after taking command of the Carraig's armies. Had something happened while he slept?
Shona gave Catriona a dirty look. "Connor, I was going to tell you that good news after the ceremony."
"Were you going to wait to tell him the rest?" Catriona asked.
"What rest?"
If Shona didn't know, Connor really didn't want to.
"Given Connor's unique gifts, the king has granted preliminary approval for sharing that gift with the bloodlines of all of the major houses." She beamed with excitement.
"What?" Connor and Shona exclaimed together.
"It makes sense," Catriona rushed on. "You can't expect to hoard him all for yourself, can you?"
Shona might have been the one
trying to manipulate him from nearly the first day she realized the potential for his curse, but she looked disgusted by the idea of sharing him with every noble house.
"We'll see," she said curtly.
They reached the platform and Shona led Connor up the steps.
"Remember your boon," Catriona called.
Connor ascended the stairs in a daze. Could she really be telling the truth? Would the king really order such a thing?
Chapter 89
Evander waited on the platform, towering over the assembled high lord representatives, school administrators, and professors. On the opposite side of the platform stood the other champions. Padraigin waved enthusiastically, and even Redmund looked content. He'd probably convinced himself that since they'd worked together during the fighting that they all shared equally the victory.
Ivor looked thoughtful.
All of the others cheered and took turns congratulating him as enthusiastically as the larger crowd had. Unlike the honest cheers of the others, as each of the high lord representatives passed, they all whispered promises of wealth and power if he but chose their family. More than a few sought the same boon Catriona did if they failed to secure first breed rights.
They sickened him.
He seriously considered puking all over them, but his stomach was already empty. He gratefully turned away from them when Evander strode to the podium that was laughably short for him. Expectant silence settled over the crowd as Evander motioned Lord Dail forward. He looked like an infant beside the towering giant, but launched into a long-winded monologue about the honor of the occasion and the glory won by those wounded or fallen on the battlefield.
As he droned on, Shona nudged Connor and gestured to the far side of the stage with a smug little smile on her lips. When he turned in that direction, someone lowered a thin divider he had not even noticed before. Captain Rory stood there beside Verena, whose hands and feet were shackled with heavy chains, her face bloody, and her nose clearly broken.
She met his gaze with tears in her eyes. Her shoulders were slumped in defeat, her expression dejected. The sight of her struck him like a curse-punch from a max-tapped Boulder, and it took all his self-control not to stagger under the shock. It was replaced a heartbeat later with a towering fury. He would shatter those chains and heal her wounds and rip to shreds whoever had dared hurt her.
Shona caught his arm and hissed in his ear, "Connor, control yourself or you'll only make it worse."
He growled between clenched teeth, "Let. Go."
Instead her grip tightened with the strength of granite. "You are bereft of all stones while I am not. You will do my will or she dies, that I promise you."
Every instinct howled for him to lunge against her greater strength or strike out against her, to do anything to fight to Verena's side, but her words shackled him as securely as the chains bound Verena.
Connor glanced at Verena again, and she shook her head in silent plea, as if asking his forgiveness for falling into Shona's hands.
He had been a fool to go anywhere without first demanding access to powder. He still felt weak, despite the rest. He wouldn't be able to fight his way past a toddler, let alone beat a determined Shona, plus Rory and perhaps most of the other Petralists on the stage.
"I thought you agreed to a truce," he whispered through clenched teeth.
"Oh, I did," Shona said with maddening smugness. "I promised not to hurt her until the monster died, and I didn't."
"Let her go." He hated her for forcing him to beg.
At the podium, Lord Dail was winding down his exultant monologue. He gestured toward Connor. "And so with the utmost pride and pleasure, I pronounce Guardian Connor champion of the Tir-raon!"
Amid the thunderous applause, Connor hated the irony that only now did they finally proclaim him Guardian. Now he stood chained to Shona, about to be passed around like a stud horse to the high lord families.
Never before had the title felt so empty. Had he really fought so hard to embrace slavery? He considered exacting revenge upon Shona by choosing a different house, or choosing a different partner for first breed rights. He scanned the crowd, noting the eager faces. Any house would claim him in a heartbeat, and any of the girls would take him just as readily.
Choosing any of them would only guarantee Verena's death. He joined Lord Dail and waved at the crowd while his soul screamed in futile rage.
He made his choice, and glanced up at Evander who was watching him with an unreadable expression. Had Evander been speaking of this when he talked of choices? Why couldn't he have just told Connor the simple truth that he was about to sell his soul into slavery?
Shona joined him, eliciting a disapproving frown from Lord Dail and a ripple of angry muttering from the high lord representatives. Connor pulled her aside, ignoring even more grumbling.
"Let her go and I'll do it, Shona."
She had the decency not to visibly gloat. She only nodded once. "Very well, announce your choice and then I'll release her."
"No. She goes free first."
"Impossible."
"Fine then I'll choose Catriona."
"You wouldn't dare!"
"Why not? I wouldn't have anything to lose, so it wouldn't matter who I choose would it?"
Lord Dail approached. "It's time to make your choice of family allegiance and first breed rights, young man."
"Well?" he asked Shona.
She tilted her chin up. "Fine. I agree."
Although Lord Dail glowered at the interruption, Connor backed farther away from the podium and turned. Shona beckoned Rory forward. He led Verena onto the center of the platform. She was heavily shackled, and the chains prevented her from standing erect, so she shuffled forward like an invalid. She looked miserable, but anger burned in the look she cast at Shona.
"Connor, choose freedom," she urged him in a trembling voice, trying unsuccessfully to raise hands toward him.
"I have. The only freedom that matters."
At Shona's direction, Rory unlocked the shackles. Verena rushed to embrace Connor, but Shona intercepted her and pushed her back. "I agreed to release you but nothing more. Now begone before I change my mind."
"Don't do this, Connor," Verena begged, tears in her eyes.
"I need a piece of quartzite," Connor announced.
Rory produced a fist-sized stone, clearly knowing in advance what Connor would choose. He handed it to Verena, his face set in an expressionless mask, but his sorrow still leaked through. Of everyone in the assembly, Rory perhaps understood the depth of anguish Connor felt in that moment.
Verena took the stone but held Connor with her gaze for another moment and communicated all of her love, all of her heartfelt grief in that long look.
Then she stood tall and faced Shona. Despite her broken nose, her bloody face, and her disheveled hair, in that moment she looked as regal as a queen. In a voice as hard as steel, she declared, "I hate you."
"You lose," Shona said simply. "Next time I see you, I will kill you."
With a final grieving look at Connor, Verena hugged the quartzite to her chest and launched off the platform in a rush of air. He watched her until she disappeared into the afternoon sun. Why she would fly west instead of north made no sense, but at least she was free.
Shona took his arm, and her dominant expression changed to one of regret. She half-raised her other hand toward his face, but then let it fall to her side with a soft sigh. "Oh, Connor. At every step, we're pitted against each other."
"This time, I don't think you can blame anyone but you."
She shook her head. "Somehow Verena has twisted your heart, my Connor, but she's not the only one who loves you. You'll see. We'll get through this and you'll realize we're perfect together."
He just stared. She was cracked mental.
She gave him an encouraging smile. "We'll make history, Connor. We'll change the world and bring peace to every nation."
Connor couldn't think how to explain to her how insa
ne her idea of peace was. As she turned him back to the expectant crowd, she gripped his arm one last time. "You made the right choice."
"It's what a Guardian does."
In a voice far stronger than seemed possible, he spoke to the crowd. "I hereby announce my allegiance to House Dougal and first breed rights with Lady Shona."
As everyone cheered wildly, his heart turned to ice. He didn't even flinch when Shona kissed him on the lips and graciously waved her appreciation to the crowd.
Chapter 90
Connor stepped onto the rooftop veranda of Lord Nevan's palace and approached Shona as the last vestiges of twilight stained the western sky. She stood facing north, toward the deeper shadow of the shattered castle.
Despite vowing to serve her, Connor's hands shook with nervousness. Everyone else was celebrating a great feast in his honor. As much as he did not want to attend the event, he would have preferred that over obeying her summons to meet her atop the palace roof.
Shona turned and smiled, radiating genuine pleasure. Connor made a little bow and wished he understood better what drove Shona. Their relationship had always been so complicated, but how could she have used Verena against him like that? She had manipulated and blackmailed him into an intimate, lifelong relationship. How could she imagine that could ever work?
The cruelest irony, one that he doubted she'd ever understand, was that if she had only been honest with him, had truly loved him with open sincerity, she would have won his heart long before Verena had managed to worm her way into his affection.
Part of him wished she had. At least he could have looked forward to their relationship, even though he would have still abhorred the plan of conquest and destruction she seemed eager to embark upon.
She wore a simple, thin dress of midnight blue silk that accentuated her pale skin and blond hair. Its low collar complimented her graceful neck and fine features. It was too bad her heart did not match her external beauty.
She took his hand and drew him into a gentle embrace. Her smile turned wistful and she sighed. "You know Connor, we're formally promised now. I should be announcing our engagement in Donleavy tomorrow."