by Tyler Chase
Only Comron understood this, for he’d been present the day Edred announced his betrothal to Lady Sheally Undersoll. Six months had hardly passed since Meg’s disappearance before King Edred announced Crausin’s betrothal to Lady Sheally Undersoll of the Northhaven Undersolls—a powerful and obscenely wealthy banking house determined to form a marriage alliance with the Royal House of Nethic. In three months’ time, Lady Sheally Undersoll, would be wed to the Crown Prince and eventually become their new queen.
As Crausin sat at the dinner table, his mind phased back to that dark time ….
***
King Edred, as he was referred to on Nethic, stared across the dinner table at his son. Edred might as well have been announcing the weather for all the reaction the news garnered from Crausin. The Meg incident had virtually left the prince comatose for the first few months. Edred had ordered heavy sedatives after he’d found Crausin lying on the bathing room floor unresponsive, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. For an instant, Edred’s mind had flashed back to the day he’d found Cristalla lying in a pool of her own blood, her wrist slit. The physician informed Edred that Crausin had apparently overdosed on some illicit substance obtained from the Highlands. The following weeks required round the clock surveillance and heavy medication to prevent Crausin from doing any further harm to himself. Many months later, he had not fully recovered, having drawn deeper into the inner recesses of his mind.
“It’s their youngest daughter, just turned eighteen two weeks ago. Ah,” he grinned and his gray eyes lit up, “She’s a spectacular beauty. You met her once at a fauste tournament in Glover. Do you remember?”
Crausin’s eyes remained fixed upon his plate in the otherwise empty dining hall. He shook his head no.
“No matter, I’ll show you a hologram after dinner,” he said, cutting into his veal. “I’ve done quite well for you. You’ll thank me when you see her,” he said, chewing with a self-congratulatory glint. “This marriage will extinguish all of our house debts and Nethic will be charmed by this elegant creature, their new Crown Princess.”
The prince moved some vegetables around on his plate with his fork, but couldn’t be bothered to eat.
“The wedding will take place in six months’ time. You will be required to produce three sons, the first of which will become your heir, one of the other two will take a command post in the military. The other will take up religious orders in the High Church. Land and titles will be apportioned accordingly.”
When Crausin persisted in his tower of silence, Edred stopped eating and stared at his son. “Do you have any idea how difficult it’s been trying to keep you hidden away so that no one discovers how cracked you are before your wedding day with your incessant dark moods, absurd mumblings, and your silly hand gestures that you thought I hadn’t noticed. Had I not kept you secluded, I would have had a hell of a time convincing anyone that you weren’t as mad as your mother!”
Crausin tensed, keeping his head down, making no reply.
“That’s what they whisper even now,” he said, throwing his napkin down. “That little stunt you pulled at Highland didn’t help matters.”
Crausin swallowed in a dry throat, preparing himself for the inevitable violent assault he knew his next words would bring.
“Please, I beg you, Sire,” he said, daring to look his father in his eyes. “I’m in no condition to marry. I’m still wrecked. Meg was everything to—”
“To hell with Meg!” Edred pounded the table. “That painted harlot never gave a damn about you. Be done with her just as she’s done with you!” Edred fumed as the tears puddled in his son’s eyes. “I swear, if you start crying again, I will beat the living shite out of you!”
Choking back his pain, Crausin wiped brusquely at his eyes and stared at his father.
“Our financial state is in great peril, we need this marriage to consolidate our position and to pay off a mountain of debt. I can’t have you languishing over some whore upsetting your future bride, nor can I afford to have your future in-laws witness you muttering to yourself and looking so wretched all the time.” He glared at him. “They have bought the title and with that they believe they’ve gained a charming, intelligent, handsome young prince as a son-in-law. When you greet them next week that’s exactly what you will be. I don’t care if Professor Graves has to send you in there pumped to the gills on kerbane opiate, you will play your part! Do you understand me?”
Crausin nodded soberly, “I will do as you command, Sire.”
“Now eat something; you’re wasting away.”
“Yes, my lord,” he said and consumed a spoonful of vegetables.
Edred is such a belligerent ass. Comron said, seating himself to Crausin’s left.
Crausin wanted to ask him where he had been but dared not speak.
If the crown treasury is in trouble, he needn’t look any further than himself for the blame. If he really wanted to fix Nethic’s trouble, he’d fling himself off the nearest cliff and let you begin your reign.
Hidden from Edred’s eyes, Crausin gestured for Comron to be quiet.
Why should I? Edred’s lavish lifestyle and drunken ineptitude created the problems and then he whores you out to fix them. Look at my handsome, urbane son; for fifty billion credits, he’s all yours.
“After the wedding, you and your young bride will reside here at Northridge Castle where I can keep an eye on you. The betrothal contract isn’t fully satisfied until you sire a child upon her. Do it quickly, only then will they be without recourse if they should subsequently find your mental state to be … wanting.”
After the first child, will we be free to leave Northridge Castle? Ask him!
Crausin cleared his throat. “Once we give you a grandchild, where will we live?”
Edred shrugged, forking another piece of veal into his mouth. “I suppose we could open the summer home in Yelton or, if you prefer the city, there are the apartments at River’s Throw.” He pointed his fork at him. “But first I must be convinced that you will not ruin us. Who knows how long that will take?” he said, chomping away.
That cantankerous old bastard never intends to let you leave. His death will be our only escape!
“By the way, once the betrothal is publicly announced at the party next week, there will be no more trips to the Highlands. After your first child, you may do as you please in that regard as long as a certain degree of discretion is observed.”
No more Highlands! The wedding is three months out, how will we satisfy ourselves till then?
“Suits me fine. I hate going there anyway,” Crausin replied.
To the blazes with you! I love going there.
Edred rolled his eyes as he drained his wine glass and motioned for the attendant to refill it. “There are other establishments if you’re still haunted by memories of … her. Put all of that behind you. That bitch was still grabbing her ankles for me the whole time she was swearing fidelity to you. She wasn’t worth the spit it took to rid oneself of her taste. If you want to throw your heart at someone, throw it at your fiancée, someone well-bred and cultured, a true gem.”
A fire lit in Crausin’s green eyes; his nostrils flared. “I’ll never give my heart to another worthless slut.”
“I’m talking about a lady of House Undersoll; learn the difference,” Edred said.
But Crausin and Comron had already reasoned it out. “They’re all the same cold, heartless whores, completely devoid of natural affection and sentiment. The whole lot of them,” the bitter vile in his tone was palpable.
Edred frowned, setting his glass down. “You have no idea what you are saying. You can’t lump all women into one category over your experience with Meg. A whore has wounded you; no lady has done you any harm.”
Crausin’s face contorted with the deepest pits of his rage.
Crausin, don’t say it, please!
“Mother was a great lady, was she not? Cristalla has done more harm to me than Meg could ever do in a lifetime! They are one an
d the same—cold, heartless, hateful sluts and whores!” He never saw it coming, only saw the floor rising to meet his face and Edred’s black boots.
“Don’t you ever speak of your mother that way again!” Edred roared.
Get up and run! He’s going to kill you this time!
Crausin scrambled, but couldn’t get away before Crausin’s boot caught him in the ribs knocking him over.
“She was a saint,” Edred said as he fell upon Crausin, and cocked his arm back to strike. “You destroyed her. You drove her away!”
Remind him of the betrothal party. The bruises!
Crausin shielded his face and yelled. “The Undersolls will see bruises and call off the wedding! We can’t afford this. We need their resources!”
For the first time ever, Crausin’s words managed to stay his father’s fists. Where begging had failed to calm the tempest, appealing to his greed and personal gain worked wonders in quelling the storm. Still, Edred held him firm in his grasp.
“I wish to God that you had died instead of her! But if you ever speak of your mother in those terms again, I will snap your worthless neck and make one of your cousins my heir,” he said, shoving him back down and standing. “Now get out of my sight!”
***
“Father!”
Crausin was drawn back to the present by the sound of his son’s voice. As he gazed upon Rhence, he was astounded at how much he saw of himself from those days. Was that part of why he held himself at a distance from Rhence? He didn’t like being reminded of himself from those days.
“It’s a message from Comron,” Rhence said excitedly. “He will arrive tomorrow and stay for the Winter Festival celebrations.”
Crausin closed his eyes and exhaled. Finally.
Chapter 23
The heavy hooded, fur trimmed cloak hid the Empress’ identity as she moved amongst the entourage, making their way toward the west hall entrance of Northridge Castle. Her visit here had to remain a closely held secret, even her Praetorian Guard were dressed in aristocratic civilian clothing to look more like party guests than imperial guard. Comron was the only one in the party who hadn’t hidden his identity, for there would be nothing unusual about the Crown Prince of Nethic returning home.
Duke Crausin Van Laven awaited them in the small foyer accompanied by his wife and two sons. Their beleaguered expressions were a mix of relief and exhaustion, that seemed to say, Alas, Comron’s returned home. He’ll set everything right.
Comron felt the weight of Crausin’s stare and watched as his eyes shifted over to Vaush’s form. As Comron suspected, Crausin saw right through the disguise, the sudden low set of his brow and clenched jaw said it all. But then unexpectedly, he smiled at her.
“Comron, darling!” Sheally was the first to greet him, throwing her arms around him. “Welcome home, my dear boy. Welcome home.”
“Thank you, Mother,” he said, lifting her off her feet with a hearty hug. She laughed and batted his shoulders to be put down. His brothers moved forward and threw their arms around him as well. He glanced over at Crausin whose eyes remained fixed upon Vaush.
“Father,” Comron said kindly. “I’ve come home. Won’t you greet me?”
Crausin stepped toward him readily as if he’d been waiting for permission. He embraced him heartily. “Welcome home, Comron.” When Crausin released him, Crausin’s gaze returned to Vaush. “Won’t you introduce us to your traveling companions?”
“Yes, of course,” Comron said, moving toward Vaush. He raised his hands to Vaush’s fur-lined hood and lifted it back. She took a deep breath and gave him a timid smile. He winked at her and turned to his family.
“I present to you, Her Royal Majesty, Sovereign of the Sellusion Empire, Empress Vaush Hrollaugr.”
Sheally gasped, drawing her manicured hand to her mouth before sinking into a low courtesy. Rhence and Gavin bowed at the waist. A chorus of “Your Highness,” filled the air. Crausin approached slowly and bowed graciously before her. “Your Majesty, we are honored by your presence,” he said before straightening again.
There was a moment of stunned silence on Comron’s part before he found his voice. “And these good people are Her Majesty’s Praetorian Guard.”
“We are honored to have you as our guests,” Sheally said, though trouble creased her brow. She looked at Comron. “But where is Lady Spira? Won’t she be joining us for the Winter Ball?” she asked naively.
“Duchess,” Crausin said before anyone could reply, “Please show our guests to the drawing room and see to their needs.”
“Oh dear, where are my manners?” Sheally said and gestured toward the double doors on the right. “Please, come enjoy some refreshments.”
“Yes, please do,” Crausin said and nodded toward the drawing room. As the party moved toward the doors, Crausin grasped Comron’s arm. “May I have a word with you in private?”
The last time Comron had been here alone with Crausin it had been in the cellar where he’d been flogged within a breath of his life and threatened with a violent castration. Vaush broke away from the others and drew close to Comron.
“I’ll just be a moment, love,” Comron said to her.
Let me send Yaeger or Deke with you!
He smiled warmly at her and her protective instincts. Your concern is sweet, but unnecessary. Please go, love.
Her shoulder’s slumped in resignation. Fifteen minutes, and then I come looking for you.
He didn’t doubt that for one second. Whatever needed to be said between he and Crausin had better be said quickly.
Chapter 24
After living in the Lion Palace for the last several months, Northridge Castle seemed quaint and unassuming even though it was similar in size to the ancestral Bastionli home she’d been raised in. She determined that the primary difference between their ancestral homes was that while the Bastionli Palace was light and airy, decorated with the pastel colors of the ocean and sand, Northridge Castle was dark and foreboding, with lots of hunter green and rich burgundy. It wasn’t difficult to imagine the horrors that befell Crausin or Comron here.
When Vaush had initially entered and she saw Comron’s family assembled in the foyer, her heart thudded in her chest. Almost immediately, she’d sensed Crausin’s heavy gaze upon her, felt the coiled emotions rolling off him in waves. And once her identity became clear to the rest of the family, she could feel their angst joining with Crausin’s.
You, the cause of our woes, have the gall to show your face here was the unspoken message in their eyes.
Shall I will leave and take Comron with me, was the unspoken answer in hers.
The frosty reception hadn’t improved much even when Duchess Sheally Van Laven attempted to make small talk with her, after all, propriety and good manners must prevail in good society. As light chamber music played in the background, Vaush contributed toward the conversation about the necessity of charitable organizations in any civilized world, even as her mind dwelled upon what was happening in the other room. Would Crausin be fooled by their small entourage and assume that he could take Comron into custody again?
No, Crausin wouldn’t dare try anything so brash and foolish, not with a planetary destroyer hovering in orbit. But then she remembered another thing—Crausin was certifiably mad and, therefore, capable of anything. She stole a glance at the wall chronometer. Only five minutes had passed thus far, ten more to go before she went looking for him.
Rhence and Gavin had their heads bent together, plotting something that, based upon the furtive looks cast her way, involved her. Instinctively, her eyes darted toward Laney and Yaeger. Laney too was taking note of the conspiratorial conversation but her expression was one of amusement. If it was one thing Laney knew, it was that Vaush could more than handle these two lightweights.
At that moment the two brothers approached while Sheally was in the midst of listing the various charitable organizations that she administered as Duchess of Nethic. The tension in Vaush’s shoulders pinched tighter as
they drew near. Gavin was first to speak, “Pardon the intrusion, Mother, but I think something in the cret tu vais seems a bit off.”
Sheally’s blue eyes went wide as saucers and her alabaster cheeks flush. “No!” she said aghast and examined the appetizer tray.
“Yes. Please excuse us, Your Highness, while we tend to the matter,” Gavin said, pulling his bewildered mother away by the elbow.
Rhence stepped forward. “My apologies, Your Majesty, I’m sure it’s nothing.”
This was the first opportunity Vaush had to see Comron’s younger brother, if one could rightly call him that, up close. In truth, this man before her was Crausin’s first-born son. Though Crausin’s features were evident in his son’s face, no one would ever mistake Rhence for him or Comron. While Rhence was tall, he was just shy of Crausin’s height. His eyes were bluish-gray, attractive, but quite subdued compared to Comron’s striking green. They had the same blade of a nose and chiseled cheek bones, but Rhence’s chin wasn’t as strong and it lacked the distinctive cleft. His chestnut brown hair, while well groomed, seemed dull compared to Comron and Crausin’s lustrous, raven locks. Plainly stated, Rhence was handsome, but Comron and Crausin were breathtakingly so.
The stirring music continued to swell in the background. “Nothing quite like an appetizer emergency to liven up a party,” Vaush said drolly.
Rhence’s eyes widened a hair and the tops of his ears reddened suggesting his embarrassment over the poorly improvised subterfuge. “Your Highness, may I speak frankly with you?”
Vaush’s stomach clenched. “Please do.”
“You have always struck me as a person of high moral character and a real champion of family values, at least based upon the papers they’ve published in the journals. So I am left wondering …” his eyes narrowed as he leaned in, “why are you here, sneaking about with my brother, a married man?”
The sting of his words made her flinch. She’d expected it, but to be so boldly confronted on the matter was a different thing entirely. For a moment, she was at a loss for words and only rallied over the need to prove she wasn’t an enormous hypocrite.