by Sara Bell
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.
"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 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."
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 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."
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?"
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."
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br /> 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 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."
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?"
"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."
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 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 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?"
"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."