WinterofThorns

by Charlotte Boyett-Compo

  “I’ll tell you what happened once we’re in the runabout,” the older man told him. “Think your legs will carry you that far?”

  “I’m not sure they will, milord,” Seyzon answered truthfully. He couldn’t take his eyes from the border lord’s face. To his mind, he felt like a gawker at an ungodly accident who was unable to look away from the carnage.

  But it wasn’t just the horror of seeing a terribly disfigured face. It was the knowledge that someone had carved that face into the hideous visage before him. The pain must have been horrendous and it made his vision blur with moisture.

  “It’ll be okay, son,” the border lord told him gently. “Trust me, it will.” He swept a hand before him. “Let’s go on inside.” He turned to Dyson. “Welling already on board?”

  “Aye,” Dyson said. “Wish that thing was a four-seater so I could come along.”

  “I’ll be sure to trade up to the Z class once we have control of the Meiramanian militia,” the border lord joked.

  “Aye, you do that.” Dyson chuckled.

  Seyzon climbed into the Fiach, unable to feel the metal of the gangplank under his feet. He was numb, shaken by what he’d seen and he’d flopped into the seat Lord Bray pointed out to him with gratitude for his knees felt like rubber.

  “Boy never flown before?” the man already in the Fiach asked.

  “He has. He’s still trying to come to grips with the way I look,”

  “Don’t blame him,” the man replied. “Scared me senseless the first time I saw you.”

  Seyzon tore his attention from the border lord to get a look at the man who would be posing as the king. He nodded. The middle-aged man didn’t look all that much like Vindan but he’d always heard Vin took after his mother’s side of the family.

  The man greeted Seyzon with a quick flick of his wrist, acknowledging him but not speaking to him, either.

  “Welling is an ace pilot,” the border lord said. “Since you don’t fly, we needed one to bring the bird back home with the kingy-poop in shackles.”

  “Where are you going to be?” Seyzon asked.

  The border lord scratched under his chin and began peeling the flesh away.

  “Oh, fucking shit!” Seyzon gasped. He pushed back in the seat, away from the horrific sight of a man stripping the skin from his bones. It wasn’t until he heard Welling laugh that he realized the skin wasn’t flesh but a stretchy material that had to be latex.

  But once the border lord was through, what had been under that latex mask scared Seyzon a thousand times more than what had been there before.

  “Mother of the gods!” he whispered. His eyes were so wide they hurt.

  The Chalean accent disappeared as the border lord said, “There were people in the hanger who needed to see what they’d been speculating was under my black mask all these years. It was imperative they saw the disfigured face of the border lord.”

  “Gods-be-damned good mask it is too, Kellan,” Welling said.

  “You’re cleared for takeoff, milord,” came a voice from the vid-com.

  “Acknowledged,” was the reply.

  The border lord finished picking the last of the latex and glue from his face then turned to Seyzon. He grinned, his blue eyes sparkling.

  “So what do you think, lad?” he inquired. “Sort of like looking into the mirror sixteen years in the future, huh?”

  The man is my father, Seyzon thought. There was no getting around it. The same mouth. The same hair color though the border lord was gray at the temples. The same facial shape. The same nose and cheekbones, cleft in the chin. Although taller than Seyzon, he had the same solid body shape.

  The same only sixteen years older.

  “Your mother was fifteen when she got pregnant with you so she and I are of the same age,” he told Seyzon. He shrugged. “If you were wondering how old I am.”

  “You’re my father,” Seyzon whispered.

  “My name is Kellan,” the man told him. “Kellan Brell and no, I’m not your father. I’m your uncle. Nolan Brell is your father.”

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  They were hovering just south of Wicklow, hidden behind the clouds that were all but blocking the sun. They’d been there for an hour but Seyzon had yet to gather the courage to ask the questions that were tumbling through his brain. The border lord—his uncle—was lounging in the pilot’s seat with his arms over his chest, his head back and his eyes closed. He might well have been asleep but Seyzon knew he wasn’t for his chest rose and fell too quickly for sleep.

  “Ask, lad,” his uncle finally said though he didn’t open his eyes. “You’re dying to.”

  “How?”

  “How as in how did you come to be?”

  “Boy doesn’t know about the birds and bees?” Welling asked with a snort.

  “How can King Nolan be my father? If he is then that means…” Seyzon turned his attention straight ahead of him.

  “That Vindan is your brother,” Kellan finished for him.

  “My older brother,” Seyzon said, a muscle working in his cheek.

  “Nay, your younger brother.”

  Seyzon snapped his head around. “How the hell could that be?”

  “Younger by…” Kellan reached up to scratch his cheek. “Four minutes if I remember rightly.”

  “That can’t be!” Seyzon denied. “That would mean we are—”

  “Twins,” Welling provided.

  “Who don’t look anything alike?” Seyzon demanded.

  “Fraternal twins, lad,” Kellan said. “Like your lady and her brother.” He cocked a shoulder. “If you think about it, there are a few similarities between you. Eye and hair color, height, body build, chest hair. Facial features are not all that different though.”

  “And since you are the firstborn…” Welling began but when Seyzon gave him a startled look, the man clamped his lips together.

  “Archie, you’ve always had a fucking big mouth,” Kellan said with a sigh.

  “Tell me!” Seyzon ordered the border lord. “Right now, milord. I want to know the whole of it!”

  Kellan opened his eyes, raised his head and nodded. “All right but I’m gonna start from the beginning.” He glanced at Seyzon. “Mine and the Poop’s so you’re gonna have to be patient—though that ain’t exactly your strong suit, I’ve noticed. So if you can sit there, keep your yap shut and listen, I’ll tell you. Can you do that, lad?”

  “Aye, I can do that.”

  “Well, then. This is how it was. Bear in mind that scientists don’t know why it happens but in Meiraman it is only in the Winter of Thorns years that twins are born.”

  “Always wondered about that myself,” Welling said.

  “That goes for you too, Arch. Keep your mouth closed and any and all comments to yourself,” Kellan ordered.

  “Lips are sealed,” Welling said, pretending to zip up his mouth.

  “Poops and I were born in the dead of winter during a fairly bad snowfall. He was born two and a half minutes before me else the crown would have been mine and let me tell you he never once let me forget he was firstborn. He lorded that over me all through our childhood. By the time I was eight or nine, I was sick to death of it so this is how he got my nickname for him.

  “He’d pissed me off one time too many. I came up with a plan to get back at him. I bet him I could shit a bigger turd than he could. Naturally he didn’t believe it and wanted to prove me wrong. So we went out to the barn and squatted. He shat first and it was pretty good, but mine was bigger.” He grinned. “A poop a man could be proud of.”

  “I gotta ask,” Welling interrupted. “How the fuck did you do that, Kellan?”

  “By eating three steaks, four potatoes and a ration of greens the night before.” He chuckled. “And slipping a small amount of laxative into Poop’s eggs that morning. Now shut up and let me get on with it.”

  He shifted more comfortably in his seat, laced his fingers together and put his hands behind his head.

  “Poops wasn
’t happy that he’d lost to me. He’d never lost anything to me before and it made him crazy. So he demanded a do-over. The next day, same thing. His crap had that real mellow stink to it.”

  “Eww,” Seyzon said but his uncle ignored the comment.

  “Third day, I was bored by the whole thing so I emptied an entire packet of laxative into his morning meal. It’s a wonder I didn’t kill him because within half an hour his stomach was making all kinds of odd noises.” He laughed, his broad chest rumbling. “You’ve heard of the quick-steps? That boy had the quick-sprints but it did him no good. He spent nearly the entire day upon the pot. Thus, the nickname.”

  “You’re evil,” Seyzon said with a laugh.

  “Let that be a lesson to you, lad,” his uncle said. “Now, let me tell you when Poops and I met your mother.

  “Duke Windham McGregor of Serenia came to Blackhall with his Diabolusian wife Solange and his two daughters, Mauve and Millicent, as Serenia’s ambassador to the Court of the Swords. I remember that day as clear as a bell. There were three ambassadors being presented at court that morning and Poops and I were required to attend the ceremony. Both of us were bored to tears by time McGregor was announced. We took one look at him and rolled our eyes, tried not to laugh. The man was the size of a small runabout and his wife was nearly as plump. His eldest daughter looked like a toad frog but his younger…” He sighed dramatically for effect. “His youngest was a virtual goddess stepped down from the vault of heaven. I’d never seen a more beautiful little girl.

  “She was thirteen and both Poops and I fell madly in love with her. We followed her everywhere she went—capering around her like a pair of jackanapes trying to gain her attention—but she ignored us. She was in love with a boy on Serenia and wanted nothing to do with us.

  “Poops went to our father and demanded she be given to him. He was almost of the age to take a bride and he wanted Millie. I think part of the reason he wanted her so badly was because he knew I loved her. He told father I should be given the older daughter while Papa was about it. Duke Windham was sent for and the suggestion made. To give the man his due, he asked Papa to give him a day in which to discuss the matter with his wife and daughters. By all accounts the man wasn’t as big a pig as he looked. Papa agreed.

  “Well, Millie wasn’t having any part of it. She liked me well enough but she couldn’t stand Poops—who could blame her—and let her dislike of him be known in no uncertain terms.

  “But her father? Well, let’s just say he could see the advantages to having one daughter Join with the future heir to the throne of Meiraman and the other Join with me. He told her he was going to accept the betrothals but on the morning the news was to be announced, the Selwyns attacked and war was declared. All frivolous things like betrothals were shelved indefinitely.” He chuckled. “Just another reason I have to be indebted to the Selwyns.”

  The border lord was silent for a moment then he cleared his throat.

  “A year passed. Meiraman wasn’t faring well in the fight then unexpected help was offered from the king of Ionary. If Papa would accept King Xavier’s eldest daughter Bertrice’s hand in Joining to Prince Nolan, Ionary would send its troops to our aid.

  “Naturally Duke Windham was offended when the offer was explained to him but in the end what choice did he have? A Duke’s youngest daughter compared to a princess? The matter was moot. So Poops was betrothed to Bertrice.

  “I, of course, was still betrothed to Mauve and forced to pay court to the lumpy chit. Being in her company was a lesson in humility for she treated me like gum on her shoe and expected me to dance attendance on her as though I was one of her maids. I despised that woman and still do to this day. If I’d wound up married to her, I’d have hanged myself.

  “As much as I hated Millie’s sister, that’s how much Poops hated Berty. He wanted Millie but there was a rumor her father was going to offer her hand to Duke Montyne of Lavenfeld—an old friend of Duke Windham’s. Poops thought that if he compromised Millie that Joining would never happen and neither would his. In his feeble mind he thought the solution was to seduce her.”

  He unclenched his hands and lowered his arms, his gaze somewhere beyond the windscreen of the runabout.

  “From the scratches on his hands and face, Millie fought him with all her strength but in the end he did what he set out to do. Naturally Papa was enraged. A large sum of money changed hands between him and Millie’s father, concessions were made, and Millie was shipped off to the convent in Kildenny. Thankfully it hadn’t been Galrath as Bertrice suggested. The rape had no effect on her betrothal to Nolan but the woman has always been a vicious, jealous bitch.

  “I was brokenhearted at Millie leaving but my grief didn’t stop me from beating the hell out of Nolan. I did my damnedest to kill him and had it not been for my best friend Jaxon, I would have.

  “Three months later word was sent to Papa that the Lady Millicent was with child and one of the nuns who was clairvoyant told the Mother Superior the child was a boy and would be the only boy child Prince Nolan would ever have. That put a fly in the ointment. Papa—and more important our mother—were very much into soothsaying and that type of shit. They believed the nun and decided the boy had to be claimed as Nolan’s. A hasty marriage was performed and the very unhappy couple was sent to live with the bride’s family in Ionary—the better to hide a pregnancy that never would be.”

  He turned to look at Seyzon. “Remember me telling you about Duke Eduard Llewellyn of Athendale? About what he did to my friend’s bride on their Joining night?”

  Seyzon nodded.

  “That was Jaxon’s lady, Sofia. Two days before that ill-fated night, we had the worst snowstorm in fifty years. Drifts were twenty feet high in Kildenny. The convent sent word they were in dire need of help. They couldn’t even get out of the keep because the drifts were covering the doors and windows. Water lines were frozen and they were running out of fuel for the furnaces.

  “I was in Athendale with Jaxon and Nolan was in Ionary. Kildenny is only thirty miles from Ravenwood, the king’s residence in the Ionarian capital of Derbenille. Since his future son was in danger, Nolan was dispatched to the convent.

  “Millie had been in labor for over twenty hours by the time Nolan got there with his men. They dug their way through the drifts that were by now almost to the convent’s roof. Men aren’t allowed in the convent but that didn’t matter to Nolan. He bulldozed his way inside and the second thing that greeted him was a piercing scream—the first being the Mother Superior laying a curse of his head for invading her convent.

  “Despite what he had done to her, Nolan truly loved Millie and he knew without being told that it was she who was screaming. He went in search of her and when he got to the bedchamber in which she lay, a bevy of nuns blocked his entrance. That didn’t faze him. The screaming had stopped and he feared the worst. He pushed them aside and flung open the door.

  “One of the nuns was holding a tiny wrapped bundle in her arms. There were tears streaming down her cheeks. She looked up at Nolan and shook her head. He heard the word stillborn but before he could react, Millie screamed again and the nuns at her bedside went into action. There was another babe and it was coming. He watched as the child was thrust into the world—kicking and screaming to high heaven. As the babe was laid on Millie’s stomach, the nun who had delivered him asked if he would like to cut his son’s cord.”

  Seyzon sat mesmerized by his uncle story of how the squalling baby was placed in his mother’s arms. The words of thanks for a healthy son Prince Nolan spoke that were ignored by the child’s mother. Of how she kissed the infant’s head then extended him to his father.

  “Take him,” she told the man who had raped her. “He is yours and no longer mine. I want no reminder of you in my life.”

  “I believe Millie meant to join the convent but Papa had other plans for her. He wasn’t as wicked a man as most thought him. He did have a heart. Though the world believed Bertrice to be Nolan’s mothe
r, he knew she would never give the boy even a smile much less a moment of love. He intended to see Millicent raise Vindan but she wouldn’t be needed until the boy was a bit older. So he betrothed her to Baron Daniel Montyne—a good man who was deeply loved by all who knew him—Joining her to him in absentia. When they met four months later, Montyne fell in love with her in much the same way Nolan and I did. I believed she came to love him too. When he was killed, she was nearly inconsolable and that was when Papa had her sent to Wicklow. To the rest of the world she would be the young prince’s godmother.”

  “But what about me?” Seyzon asked. “I was the one thought stillborn, wasn’t I?”

  “Aye,” Kellan said. “When you were born you didn’t cry. Didn’t move. The nuns truly thought you were dead so they wrapped you up and laid you in a basket. The ground was frozen hard so there could be no burial until the spring thaw. Their intent was to place you in the cryo unit that had only been used once before. It wasn’t until after Nolan left with Vindan that they became aware you weren’t not dead. A nun heard you mewling and ran to investigate. A vow was taken not to tell the world that Millie’s firstborn was alive.”

  “So Montyne claimed me as his son.”

  “There are only four other people who know the truth. Millie, Frederick Arbra who was Montyne’s childhood friend, me and Archie, Jaxon’s brother.”

  “How did you find out?” Seyzon asked.

  “I knew the first time I laid eyes on you at the Pig and Whistle. Shocked the shit out of me, let me tell you!” he replied. “I’m surprised more people didn’t put two and two together since you look just like Nolan.” He shrugged. “And me, of course. You get the better part of your looks from me.”

  Seyzon smiled. “I think I got your propensity for getting into trouble as well.”

  “There is a strong possibility that might be the case.” He frowned. “Have you checked that vid-screen lately?”

  Seyzon looked down. “Still in with Vindan.”

  “The bastard will have to shit or piss sooner or later. Keep your eyes on him.”

  Chapter Thirteen