"I was never a servant of this family, Madame!"
"Then who are you? Were you a member of Conar's Elite? A friend of his?" Her voice turned sharp. "An enemy of his, perhaps?"
"He had enough of them."
She was growing angrier by the minute at his arrogance. "Who are you?"
He took another long drink. When he set the glass on the desk, he folded his arms across his chest. "You'll learn soon enough. Why didn't you meet me in the grotto?"
"That would be the last place I would ever meet you!"
"Why? It's convenient, it's private. No one would interrupt us. I assume you want no hint of our liaison to reach your husband's ears."
"I don't want you in the grotto! Not now; not ever. It is a special place and not for the likes of you!"
His voice turned cold. "And what makes it so damned special? Is that where you meet some other lover? Is that your trysting place, Queen Liza?"
"Stay out of the grotto. Understand? It was my husband's favorite place. It was the last place we…Conar was…" She pointed a finger at him. "Just stay out of it!" She turned to go, but his steel-tipped voice stopped her.
"I haven't told you why I wanted to see you in the grotto. Have you no curiosity?"
Breathless from anger, her hands trembled at her sides. A nagging ache in her back made her want to sit, to lie down, but she felt she would be at a disadvantage if she showed him one ounce of weakness.
"I will keep my hell-spawned bargain with you," she told him through clenched teeth, "because it was the only way I could get back my child. But I will not endanger my health or the health of my unborn babe so you can satisfy whatever insidious vengeance you crave!" She glared at him through the darkness. "Once the child is born, I will come to you, but it will not be the grotto!"
He made a rude sound. "You think I wanted to bed you this night?"
"You came into my bedroom—"
"To remind you to make good on your part of the bargain." He swung his feet from the desk and sat forward. "I will have you, Lady Liza, make no mistake, but it will be without the accompaniment of that brat you waddle around with!"
"You need to insult me, don't you? Does taking your petty revenge out on me satisfy whatever imagined slight you think you have experienced?"
"Imagined?" he shouted, standing up so fast the chair tumbled and crashed into the floor. " 'Twas no imagined slight, bitch! What you and your husband have done to me is real enough! I have the scars to prove it!"
Liza took a step backward from the intense hatred in his voice. "Whatever it was we have done to you could not have been so bad that you would require me to lower myself to fornicate with you!"
"That's an adequate description of what it will be, too! Fornication." His voice filled with spite. "But 'fucking' is a much better word for it!"
Aching so badly, she held a hand to the small of her back. "You are a crude, uncivilized man. You gave me no choice—it was either agree or never see my son again. What choice was that?"
"More choice than I was given!"
"What have I done to you?" She was hurting so much her eyes watered. Her legs were threatening to go out from under her. "I have never met you!"
He stepped from behind the desk, but when his hands went to his face and he halted, Liza realized he wore no mask. She wanted to see his face, ascertain if she knew him, but her pain was coming in waves along the small of her back. She realized with horror that she was going into labor.
"I wish to the gods you had never met me, you whoring bitch! I wish I had never laid eyes on you!"
He picked up the glass and hurled it across the room. It sailed past her and shattered against a bookshelf. Liza jumped. Her belly cramped. She bent over, clutching herself as the pain shot through her. "Wait—please—wait."
* * *
Conar headed for the door that led to the garden. His angry strides took him past the sideboard, where he snatched up a brandy bottle. He slammed the door behind him as he left the room, shutting out Liza's pleas for him to stop. He took the flagstone pathway to the seagate and yanked open the wrought iron doors, heedless of who heard the noise or came to investigate, and tripped down the spiraling staircase to the beach. Nothing mattered now except making his way to the dungeon where Roget and Bent were sleeping. He needed his bed, and he desperately needed the bottle clutched in his shaking hand.
He made a vow—he would spend no more nights in the damp rooms of the keep's dungeon. Tomorrow, he would have a room in the keep's sleeping wing, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop him!
Chapter 18
* * *
"Conar! Damn it! Wake up!" Brelan shook his brother, but got no more than a grumbled curse and a sour belch for his effort. He turned to Roget. "Get me a bucket of cold water. I want this drunken bastard awake!"
"Do you need to treat him so badly?" Bent asked in a gentle voice, looking at Conar's huddled form on the pallet and the empty bottle of brandy on the floor.
"He got that liquor from our brother's study, I'm guessing. He must have been in there, but I have to know for certain!" Brelan stepped back as Roget brought a pail of water. "Go ahead!"
Roget hurled the contents of the pail, soaking Conar and his pallet.
It was a spitting, fighting, furious demon that reared up off the wet bedding. Angry red sparks of blazing fire snapped from the dark eyes. He pushed back his sodden hair and glared at Roget. "You'd better have a fucking good reason for doing that, or I swear by the gods, I'll gut you!"
"You'll do nothing of the sort!" Brelan shouted, drawing Conar's raging eyes. "It was by my order he did it. You want to fight me? Fine! Get your ass up like a man and try, or do you need another bottle of bravery before you can?" Brelan kicked Conar's boot. "Get up!"
Conar shot from the bed, his hands clenched into fists. He took a step toward his brother. "What's the matter with you?"
"Where were you last night?"
"What business is it of yours?"
Brelan pointed at the empty bottle, barely controlling his rage. "You got that from Legion's study, didn't you? You sure as hell didn't have it when I left last evening and I know you didn't send anyone to get it! Where did you go last night?"
"Where I go and what I do is none of—"
Brelan grabbed his brother's wet shirt. "Where the hell were you?"
Conar jerked away, twitching his shoulder with contempt. "So I got the damned brandy from the study. What of it?"
Brelan's voice went deadly quiet. "Were you alone?"
"What difference does that make?"
"Were you alone?"
Conar's lip curled with disgust. "No, I wasn't alone."
"Who was with you?"
"Who do you think?" Conar asked, a smug look of triumph on his handsome face.
Brelan took a steadying breath. "Was she there when you left?"
"What if she was?" Conar snapped, his tone belligerent.
"Did you argue with her? Did you tell her who you were? What did you talk about?"
"Again, that's none of your business." Conar started around his brother, but Brelan grabbed his upper arm.
"I'm making it my business. Did you argue with her last eve?"
"What if I did?"
Brelan clipped the edge of Conar's chin with his fist, spinning him sideways and up against the wall. Losing his balance, Conar slid down the wall. He looked up at his enraged brother. "I'm going to come straight through you, Saur!" he said through gritted teeth.
"Did she cry out to you before you left her? Was she asking for help when you left?"
"What the hell difference does it make? Get out of my way!" Conar tried to get up, but Brelan shoved him down.
"It makes all the difference in the world, you son of a bitch! Did she ask you to help her?"
"The bitch asked me to wait, but—"
"But you wouldn't!" Brelan fairly screeched. "She went into labor, you arrogant bastard, and had her babe on the floor in Legion's study! Alone! Because no on
e could hear her through the damned door!" Brelan knew a fury like the fires of hell as he watched Conar's face pinch with guilt. "She could have died. She could have bled to death! Are you happy now? Are you satisfied now that you've hurt her?"
"Brelan," Roget warned.
"No! No, Roget! He's the cause of this. He's the one who will have to bear the burden of that guilt!"
"I didn't know…" Conar began, but Brelan's icy words halted him.
"Would you have given a shit if you had?" Brelan stalked off, his footsteps echoing off the stone walls.
* * *
Brelan found his brother, Legion, sitting outside the royal suite. Legion's head was in his hands and his shoulders were slumped with fatigue.
"How is she?" Brelan asked as he sat beside Legion.
Legion sat back on the bench. "Cayn is with her. He says she'll be all right." He took a deep breath. "The babe, a girl, didn't survive."
Brelan saw terrible grief on his brother's face and he laid his hand over Legion's. "I am sorry."
Legion shook his head, as though denying what had happened. "It was the gods' will, I suppose."
Brelan ground his teeth. The gods had nothing to do with it, but he couldn't tell Legion that.
"You seem to have encountered a problem of your own." Legion nodded at Brelan's bruised knuckles.
"An encounter with a brick wall."
"One named Darkwind?" Legion guessed.
Brelan nodded.
"Who is he, Bre? What is he to you?"
Brelan knew the knowledge of the babe's death would cause Conar even greater guilt. He was already feeling ashamed for having taken out his hurt on Conar that morning. It hadn't really been Conar's fault that Liza had gone into labor when he left her. Brelan couldn't imagine what they had been arguing about, but he doubted Liza knew the truth of Conar's identity yet.
He glanced at Legion. "Just a man with a whole lot of pain. I'm afraid I added to that pain this morning."
Legion smiled sadly. "I met a man today I have never seen before. He carried my wife up the stairs. Another man, another stranger, was the one who brought Cayn to her. Everywhere I look there are women scampering about who I could swear have never set foot in this keep before today. I haven't seen half a dozen people I know. Is this his doing?"
"He thought it best we replace the staff. Corbin is safer with our own people. So are you and Liza. If it's any consolation, I'm the one who chose the staff. They can be trusted."
Legion looked long and hard at Brelan. "What you're telling me is that he has complete control of this keep. Where does that leave me? Has he designs on the throne, Bre? Have I been under Kaileel's heel for so long that I have turned to mush and allowed a man I know nothing about to take over without my knowledge?"
Brelan shook his head. "It's not the throne he wants. He's more than content to let you have that honor. He wants the land free of Kaileel. Boreas is a stronghold like none other in the Seven Kingdoms. I doubt it could ever be successfully laid siege to. It was the ideal choice for home base."
"What if we had not invited him here to rescue Corbin? Would he have invaded this keep anyway?" There was frost in Legion's eyes. "Obviously he can get in and out of Boreas at will."
"He would have eventually come here, aye, but it wasn't in his plans so soon. He wouldn't have attacked—there was no need for him to. He would have gone about it exactly like he did."
Legion stood and thrust his hands into the pockets of his breeches. "I don't like the man. There's something about him I don't trust—"
"Let me tell you about the first time I saw him in the Labyrinth."
Legion glanced at his brother. "He was a prisoner? What did he do?"
"He had committed no crime. You know that wasn't a prerequisite for being sent there."
"He'd made an enemy of someone powerful, eh?"
Brelan sighed. "A very powerful man, indeed."
"So what happened when you first saw him?"
"I had to crucify him, to nail his hands to a wooden board."
"Why?" There was keen interest in Legion's face.
"He'd tried to escape. The Commandant wanted him hurt—he didn't care how I did it, he just wanted Darkwind hurt." Leaning forward with his hands clasped together, Brelan continued. "There isn't one inch on his back that isn't covered with scar tissue from the beatings he received over the years in that cesspool. They caged him at night in a poultry pen. They got him up before the others every morning and worked him long after everyone else was in bed. Some nights, if the moon was full, they'd work him all night. He was worked like a dog and treated worse than one."
Legion said nothing. Brelan assumed his brother was picturing Conar's back after the Tribunal had finished with him. Legion, as well as anyone, knew what that pain had been like for Conar, so perhaps he could now understand what it would have been like for the Darkwind.
"One night he cried, Legion. They'd hurt him so badly he couldn't stand it any more. I took him in my arms and held him. You know what he said?"
Legion shook his head.
"He said: 'I wish someone knew I was human. I wish someone would care whether I lived or died.'" Brelan looked away, wanting to tell his brother who the Darkwind was, but not daring to. "He's free now, but the agony he suffered in the Labyrinth has made him hard. It's crippled him in a way. You have to make allowances for him, Legion. He isn't the man you think he is."
They looked up as the bedroom door opened. Cayn, the Healer, walked out and quietly closed the door. "I gave her something to make her sleep. She'll be fine, but she'll be weak for a long time because she lost so much blood."
"May I see her?" Legion asked.
"Go in, but be quiet. She's upset and needs to sleep." The Healer looked at Brelan. "Will you walk with me?"
After Legion entered the bedroom, Brelan followed the Healer down the corridor.
Reaching out his hand, Cayn stopped Brelan before they got to the stairs. "Is the Darkwind who I think he is?"
Brelan felt his heart thud painfully in his chest. "What do you mean?"
"I've seen him about the keep and I was watching him yestereve as he walked outside. He walks like a man I once knew a long time ago."
Brelan tried to smile. "You can't identify a man by his stride, Cayn."
"You can if that man has a unique way of walking. You can if he swaggers, and that's exactly what Lord Darkwind does! Swaggers!" Cayn lowered his angry voice. "Just like Conar McGregor! Are you going to tell me that man isn't your brother?"
Brelan looked at him a long time before answering. "He doesn't want anyone to know."
Cayn flinched, obviously unprepared for a confirmation of his theory. He slowly absorbed the knowledge. "I didn't think he was hurt badly enough to die. But there was no heart beat, no breath that I could discern." He shook his head, his face pinched. "If I had only…"
"What was meant to happen, happened. Don't blame yourself." He laid a hand on the Healer's shoulder. "He doesn't blame you."
"Where is he now?"
"Let me tell him you know. If he wants to see you, he'll find you."
* * *
It was close to supper time before Brelan returned to the dungeon. Earlier, Legion had told him rooms would be made available to the men if they wanted them. "There's no need for du Mer to be sleeping in that damned dungeon! There's plenty of room in the sleeping quarters. If Darkwind is going to take over my keep, he might as well be comfortable!"
When Brelan entered the cells, he noted that Roget had left. Bent sat just inside the doorway leading into one of large common cells.
He nodded his head toward Conar. "He hasn't moved since you left this morning."
"There have been rooms prepared for us. If you would, pick one out for yourself. I'd like to speak to my brother alone."
"I will take the room closest to his." Bent's lips thrust out with defiance.
Brelan nodded. Pulling his cape tighter around him in the chill, damp air, he went over to Conar an
d hunkered down beside him. His brother gazed at him, but said nothing.
"She's going to be all right."
"And the babe?" was the soft inquiry.
Brelan shook his head.
Conar looked away.
"I'm sorry I hit you. I shouldn't have taken my anger out on you. I was just furious she'd had to deliver the babe on her own."
"I know." He looked up at the ceiling. "I wind up hurting everything I touch, don't I?"
Brelan heard a sound in the doorway. Amber-lea was standing there. He frowned, turned his head away from her. "We're busy, mam'selle."
Conar held out his hand to the girl. She sat beside him on the cot. He nestled her hand in his and held it in his lap.
Brelan glared at her, annoyed at her interruption, angry at his brother for even touching the little whore while they had been speaking of Liza.
"I've got a room upstairs for you," he bit out. "I'll have your things moved into it." He stood and started off.
"Does Legion know who I am?" Conar asked.
Brelan turned. "No, but Cayn does. He wants to see you. I told him if that was all right with you, you'd look him up." He hesitated. "You weren't the cause of her losing the babe."
"It happened because I was arguing with her. I brought it on!"
"If it makes you feel better to think so, then do it!" Brelan snarled. He had lost his good intentions the moment Amber-lea appeared. "That's just one more festering hurt for you to nurture. I would think you'd get tired of blaming yourself for all the world's pain. One day you'll buckle beneath the weight of that load!" He reached inside his cape. "I brought this to you. I figured you'd think you needed it." He held out a bottle of brandy.
* * *
Conar looked at the bottle. Unconsciously he wet his lips with his tongue, while his hands itched to take the liquor. The beast inside him reared its ugly head—he wanted nothing more than to lose himself in the peace the brandy offered. He reached out his hand, then felt Amber-lea gently squeeze his other one. When his extended hand trembled, he put it down.
"No, thank you," he whispered to Brelan.
Brelan sat the bottle on the floor. "It's there if you want it." He glared at the girl. "Just like everything's there if you want it, Conar Aleksandro!"
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