by Tyler Chase
He took a deep breath and his jaw set firmly. “I’m not the architect of this master plan … Crausin is.”
“Crausin?” she asked, and the knot unraveled into nausea. “That’s absurd. You’ve had so little contact with him during your time on Novoxos.”
“I didn’t have to exchange a single word with him. I merely had to follow the blueprint he laid out for Nethic’s rise.” He lowered his eyes. “I’ve simply expanded on a theme and performed on a macro level what he did at the micro.” He met her gaze. “I could have spent months devising a plan to topple the Hegemony or I could adopt the elegant plan already conceived in Crausin’s brilliant mind,” he explained. “The problem is that Crausin saw his signature in all the changes that were taking place in the economic landscape. It didn’t take him long to figure out that I was the one pulling the levers on an imperial scale.”
“Frithe’s blood, Comron,” Vaush exclaimed. “And now I imagine he’s threatening to expose us if we don’t let him in. How typical!”
“No, he wants us to succeed and has made no threats. He’s excited about what we’re doing and wants nothing more than to devote himself full-time to the endeavor. You believe I’m your greatest asset, but I’ve merely been imitating the master.”
Vaush spread her hands expansively and declared, “But he’s insane! He tortures people in dark creepy cellars, holds regular conversations with his deceased father, and thinks you’re his imaginary childhood friend who’s come to life!”
For the first time she saw a particular anger flash in his eyes, the kind a child exhibits when someone insults their beloved parent. “His madness,” he tersely replied, “is of the caliber reserved for rare genius. We should thank the gods that he’s willing to help us and, in so doing, allow us to end this ridiculous, humiliating charade we’re forced to participate in. But if you don’t mind me spending more nights with Spira draped all over me or my chandelier shattering rages over your nights with Phin,” his voice reached a fevered pitch, “then by all means, let’s just continue on indefinitely in this private hell we’ve created for ourselves!”
Vaush groaned out loud and pressed her finger tips to her temples. That he would throw Spira in her face at this time indicated how deeply upset he was over her refusal to accept Crausin. How could he risk exposing them to more of his betrayal and abuse? Was the bond between them so unbreakable?
Dash it all! Someone had to be the voice of reason here. She’d told Rhence Crausin needed a leave of absence to see a specialist, and she wasn’t about to back down.
She stood before Comron with her arms folded across her chest and her mouth drawn taut. “I will accept him on Novoxos under one condition.”
Comron’s green eyes lit up with hope. “Name it.”
“While on Novoxos Crausin must undergo psychiatric treatment,” she ignored the look of mortification on Comron’s face. “I will choose three specialists who are at the top of their field, and he can select the one he wishes to provide the treatment. He must meet with them daily until they declare him mentally fit for society.” She raised a hand to silence him. “I will ban him from ever setting foot on Novoxos unless he agrees to this condition!”
Comron flinched at her ardor, sensing she’d broker no argument on this point. “Very well, I will present him with your terms,” he said in a manner that suggested he didn’t care for it at all.
She watched as he started out of the room but paused with his hand on the door handle. He took a deep breath, released the handle, and returned to her. He cupped her face in his hands and spoke softly, “I know this is really difficult for you and that you’re only doing it out of your love for me.” He gently kissed her brow. “Thank you,” he said, taking the edge off the tense moment.
For the second time in two days, she found herself saying, “I’m not the villain here. I know what Crausin suffered and despite everything he’s done to us, I still pity him. But I also have enough emotional distance to do the difficult thing, even if you all hate me for it in the interim.”
He gathered her into his arms and held her close. “I could never hate you, Vaush. You have the largest heart of anyone I know. If you say Crausin needs therapy, I’ll see to it that he gets it.”
She hugged him back, content in the knowledge that the bond they shared was truly unbreakable.
Chapter 27
The third morning on Nethic, the atmosphere around the breakfast table crackled with excitement in anticipation of the evening’s Winter Ball. Even Crausin was in good spirits, his initial resistance to Vaush’s therapy imperative having been overcome when Comron reminded him that earlier he’d been willing to undergo a flogging to gain forgiveness. Wouldn’t a few sessions of therapy be less painful?
Comron looked to his right at Vaush who was engaged in a lively conversation with Rhence. While he seemed quite taken with her, the scowl hadn’t quite left Gavin’s face since Crausin had scolded him two days earlier. Sheally, for her part, had managed an amicable toleration for what she presumed to be her son’s mistress. He didn’t dare mention that to Vaush.
In half an hour, Vaush would meet with Chancellor Trin regarding the next tranche of deals to be executed between Shinzhao and the shadow crown. He and Crausin would be meeting with Ahmed’s advisors to help accelerate their pivot to the Hinter World currencies. And tonight’s Winter Ball was a masquerade event, which would allow him, for the first time, to hold Vaush in his arms and waltz her around the ballroom floor without causing any controversy.
As Comron gazed around the table, the exhilaration rose within—his two worlds were coalescing beautifully into one. The road ahead was bursting with promise—a life with the woman he loved and the chance for House Van Laven to exact revenge upon the Hrollaugr Hegemony.
The sudden raucous in the corridor caught all of their attention.
“What in the devil is going on out there?” Crausin said as he rose to his feet.
One of the servants hurried into the room. “Uh, Sire, it would seem that,” he gestured toward Comron, “His Grace’s wife is here demanding an audience with him.”
Comron’s heart seized up in his chest as he locked eyes with Vaush. All humor fled from her face. Her hand clenched around her fork. She pressed her fingers to her ear, to receive an incoming call.
“Send Spira away!” Crausin barked. “Inform her that she will be called upon when he wishes to see her.”
The servant lowered his head. “Sire, that will be most difficult to do considering—”
Vaush turned to Comron. “According to Laney, Spira has an army of media hawks out there just daring you to throw her out for all the world to see,” Vaush said in a clipped tone.
“Yes, Sire,” said the servant. “That’s what I was trying to tell you. It’s a delicate matter requiring some finesse.”
Comron threw his napkin down and rose from his chair. “Dear Gods,” he growled. “I’m going to take care of this once and for all.” As he turned away, he noted the smirk on Gavin’s face while everyone else appeared to be angry or flustered. Had his youngest brother been the one to open the gates to Spira’s gossip brigands? He’d be sure to return the favor.
Comron entered the hall red faced and his chest heaving. The journalists ordered their com-eye technicians to descend upon him. If he thought he could have gotten away with it, he would have run them all through with an ostako blade. The lousy vultures!
“Ah, here’s my dashingly handsome husband,” Spira said in a lilting voice as she drew near to him. “Darling, I hope you don’t mind terribly, but all of our public simply demanded to know more about the Winter Festival and, particularly, the masquerade ball.”
He allowed her to peck his cheek so he could deliver a harsh whisper, “I need to speak with you in private.”
“Now, I thought we’d start out with a tour of Northridge Castle.” She turned to look at her band of sycophants. “The Duchess always maintains her home in such immaculate order, I’m certain she won’t mind
the surprise visit.”
“Have you lost your bloody mind?” he said through a forced smile. He pulled her closer. “Leave now and take this sorry lot with you.”
Her smile was a complete veneer as well. “I am your wife, and yet you refuse to take my calls. And now you’ve had the unmitigated gall to bring your empress whore here to Northridge Castle in my place?”
Comron’s face darkened, his lips parted into a malevolent smirk. “If you don’t carry your ass and all your shite out of here right now—”
“All right, come on everyone,” she said, waving them forward. “He’s agreed to take us up to our private suite. Come along now, follow me.”
Comron stepped out in front of them. “I’m terribly sorry, but my wife misunderstood my message. Our rooms and much of Northridge Castle are being renovated due to the damage sustained during the Ti-Larosian attack. I’m afraid you’ve picked the absolute worst time to come for a tour.” He cast an apologetic look at Spira. “I’m sorry, dear, but you really should have called first, I could have spared you all the trouble.”
There was a collective sound of disappointment from the room.
“Perhaps, you’d prefer to see Tristain Hall,” he offered. “I’m sure we’ve wasted enough of these good people’s time, and I have work to attend to.”
Spira flung her arms around him and pressed her body to his. “Only if you come with us, darling I’ve missed you so.”
His body went rigid with revulsion and he fought the impulse to fling her away. At any minute, he expected Vaush to burst through the doors and snatch Spira’s hair from her roots. All he needed was for these vultures to record the empress throwing his wife out of a second story window.
“Please dear,” he said, gently extricating himself from her. “We’ve guests. Show some decorum.” He grabbed her by the wrist and drew her toward the parlor. “Please a moment alone with my wife,” he said when the others started to follow.
A collective groan went up from group, but he closed the door on them just the same.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he said through clenched teeth.
“It’s the only way I could get your attention,” she fired back. “You’ve done your best to ignore me since the reserve board dinner.”
“But instead of taking that as a hint, you took it as a sign to pull this stunt?” he exclaimed. “Get it through your head. I was forced to marry you. I don’t want you, and I sure as hell don’t love you. All I want you to do is go away and never come back!” He waited for her to bear her claws and unleash a verbal tirade. Instead, her milky skin turned blotchy, her blue eyes teared up, and her lip began to tremble.
“Why won’t you give us a chance,” her voice was strained, and her eyes glistened. “I could do so much for your career. I’ve been making critical connections that could open so many doors for you.”
To his astonishment, he found the onslaught of emotion pouring off her to be genuine. “No, no, no,” he said, backing away from her. “You don’t feel anything for me. You never have. Crausin’s the one you want.”
“No, Comron. I was such a fool back then, but no more,” she said, reaching for him. “Please just give me a chance to be the wife you deserve.”
“No!” he said, concluding that the essence must be playing havoc on her, amplifying her attraction to him. “Look, Spira, there will never be anything between us. So go ahead—”
“Why?” The tears fell from her eyes. “Because of her? Look, I understand, she’s exciting to you, but it can’t last. I’m willing to wait, and I won’t make any demands of you or ask any questions. You once shared me, now I’m willing to share you with her.” She took a step closer. “Just stop ignoring me, and I’ll keep up your charade.”
Frithe’s gates, he never thought there’d come a day when he’d feel an ounce of compassion for this woman. But for everyone’s sake, this was no time to equivocate or offer false hope. “Spira, listen to me. There is no us and there never will be. And you should know that I couldn’t care less about your private life as long as you are discreet in your affairs.”
“Comron, please,” she begged as more tears spilled down her cheeks. “I couldn’t even think of another man; your touch is all I crave night and day.”
For heaven’s sake! No, he had to be firm, it was the only way to cut through the essence-induced spell she was under. Later he’d send Crausin in to mop up the mess before she could do any harm to him or herself. “You know what I want, Spira?”
Her eyes lit up with hope. “What? Just tell me.”
“I want you to walk out the front door,” his tone was cruel, sharp as a whip. “And never come back here again.” He pointed to the door. “Go!”
The shattered, lost look in Spira’s eyes cut surprisingly deep, though his response was more empathetic than sympathetic. All he could imagine was how he’d feel if Vaush ever spoke those words to him.
In a sudden burst of movement, Spira turned and dashed out the door.
Chapter 28
Immediately upon entering the corridor, Comron ran into Crausin. The media circus and Spira were gone.
“Do you really think that was wise?” Crausin said in a hushed tone. “You know what they say about a woman scorned.”
“Better her scorn than Vaush’s,” Comron said somberly. “Where’s her entourage?”
“The moment you went into the parlor with Spira, I had the guards escort those bottom feeders off the estate,” Crausin frowned, “but I don’t think that’s the last of it.”
“Go to her, Crausin,” Comron said, “make certain she doesn’t do anything foolish.”
Crausin’s brow drew low. “What exactly do you want me to do?”
“Whatever it takes to make her believe at least one Van Laven still cares for her.” Comron cut a look at him. “You’ve certainly had enough practice at it.”
Crausin rolled his eyes and folded his arms across his chest. “Are you still on about that?”
“Do what you must to comfort her, Crausin,” he ordered. “And whatever you do, make certain Spira doesn’t attend the ball this evening. Put her under guard if necessary. I don’t want her ruining Vaush’s visit any more than she has.”
“You’re playing with fire, Comron.”
“Just go do as I asked,” Comron said and realized for the first time, he was the one giving the orders.
Crausin hesitated for a moment and then nodded curtly. “Consider it done.”
“Thank you, Crausin,” Comron said and then headed back to the private dining hall. When he reached it, he found it empty save for the servants removing the dishes. He returned to the corridor in time to see his mother coming toward him.
“Oh, there you are, darling,” Sheally said in a musical tone. “Will Spira be staying with us for the remainder of the festivals?”
“No!” Comron said. “Where is the empress?”
Sheally drew back with hand to chest. “There is no need to speak to—”
“Forgive me, Mother,” Comron said impatiently. “But where has the empress gone?”
“She’s gone to her room,” Rhence replied as he approached. “She said she needed to prepare for her meeting with the Chancellor.”
The sinking feeling in his gut began to grow. What a damned fool he’d been prematurely celebrating how well things were progressing. Now he fully expected to find Laney with Vaush, feverishly packing her things to go. He ran down the corridor and took the steps by threes. When he found Vaush, she was alone, sitting in the window box, staring out over the field toward the stables.
“Vaush!” He went to her and began apologizing profusely.
Vaush simply stared at him. The vehemence he’d expected to roll off her was minimal. Instead, he felt her regret and bitterness.
“Love, what is it?” he asked as he sat in the box across from her.
“We are playing a very dangerous game, Comron,” she said softly. “It’s cruel and callous, toying with people’s emo
tions the way we are.”
He lowered his head. “I never led Spira to believe that the marriage was anything more than a political move.”
“Isn’t that how most aristocratic marriages start out?” Vaush said sharply. “Spira didn’t truly understand the hopelessness of her situation until you told her just then.” She shook her head. “What are we doing, Comron?”
A spark of anger rose over being forced to play these games and then to have Vaush take Spira’s side! “We didn’t make the rules, Vaush. It wasn’t my intention to hurt anyone.”
“It’s not just you. That little show down there just brought it all to a head,” she said with brow knitted together as she stared out the window. “I can’t help thinking about the day I’m going to have that same conversation with Phin or Khale. I’m setting them up to drive a stake through their hearts!” She punched the cushion she sat upon. “Thank goodness Khale will have his childhood love to fall back on. She’ll be of great comfort to him, and he’ll be reminded that she’s who he really loves, but what of Fin?” She looked at Comron. “I’m just sick about it. We’ve got to bring the Hegemony down quickly so we can end this charade and stop toying with other’s emotions.”
He nodded. “Agreed. Now that Crausin’s onboard, we’ll be able to move up the timetable without fear of compromising the operation.”
“Why do you think I finally agreed to let him join?” she said in a gloomy tone.
He peered at her, curious as to why she was still so vexed. “Vaush, did you want me to comfort Spira? Hold her in my arms and give her false hope?”
She cut him a look of pure malice. “Are you crazy? When she threw herself at you, I was this close,” she snapped her fingers, “to throwing her bony ass out the door.”
No window? Comron lowered his head, endeavoring to hide the smile twitching on his lips.
“Oh, you find that amusing, do you?” She planted her hands on her hips. “Well, let me—”
“No, I don’t.” He cusped her neck and pulled her forward for a silencing kiss. When he released her, he explained his smile, “But I just really needed to hear you say that.”