WINDREAPER

by Charlotte Boyett-Compo

  "Get the hell out of my way, du Mer!" Conar pushed him away and stomped down the hall.

  Stumbling against the wall once more, Teal stared at the man, careening around the banister and nearly tripping down the stairs. He shook his head, trying to make sense of what he had seen.

  Liza, her tear-drenched face pale and wounded, came up to him. "Go after him, Teal. Please go after him!"

  He flew down the stairs in time to see the big oak door slam shut. As he reached the portal, a hard hand gripped his arm.

  "Let him go, Teal," Roget ordered.

  "Liza wanted me to—"

  "Leave him alone, du Mer," Grice Wynth said. "Brelan has gone after him. He can deal better with Conar."

  "Conar—not dead. I don't understand any of this! Where has he been? Why hasn't he let anyone know he was alive?" Teal saw a look pass between his brother and Grice and the knowledge sank in like a cold shaft of ice. "They took him to the Labyrinth?"

  Roget nodded. "Go back to Liza and stay with her."

  * * *

  Brelan Saur made it to the stable just as Conar unhooked the door to his horse's stall. Shocked grooms and workers had stopped what they were doing and stared, open-mouthed, at Conar. Brelan groaned. There wouldn't be any need for the mask now!

  Panting from the run, Brelan leaned against the door jamb. "You aren't going anywhere."

  Conar didn't answer. He entered the stall and swatted his horse on the rump, and got him out of the cubicle. He slipped his bridle from the wall, then swung it over Seachance's head.

  Brelan pushed himself away from the doorway and walked slowly forward. "Don't bother saddling that brute! I mean it! I'm not letting you leave here!"

  Conar took hold of the bridle and began leading the horse toward Brelan. He stopped within a few feet of his brother, who was standing with legs spread wide in a defensive posture.

  "I'll only say this once, Saur. Get out of my way. If you don't, I'll either go over you, under you, or through you, but I'm not going around you!"

  Shalu, Ching-Ching and Bent entered the stable, blocking the way

  Conar's fury seemed beyond human. "I'll take on all four of you if that's the way it has to be!"

  "You won't win, little bird," Ching-Ching scoffed.

  "Try me!"

  "We don't want to hurt you," Shalu told him.

  "You won't!"

  "Don't be a fool, Conar," Brelan said. "You can't take on all of us!"

  A soft voice spoke from behind the three men at the door. "Let him go. He's good at hiding from the truth."

  "Liza," Brelan began, "go back to—"

  "I never thought he was a coward, but I suppose that's what Kaileel has made of him. Let him run away. Let him hide in a bottle somewhere. You were always good at that, weren't you, Conar? Don't stay and face the ghosts of your past. They've done well enough without you before now!"

  After staring for a moment into Conar's enraged face, she turned her back and walked toward the keep.

  "Come back here, woman!" Conar let go of his horse's bridle and started toward Shalu and Ching-Ching, slowing only a fraction as they let him pass.

  With grim determination, Brelan and the others followed Conar to the keep. Liza ran up the steps, jerked open the door, and entered. Conar lunged up the steps two at a time, bellowing for her to stop.

  With Brelan and the others on his heels, Conar slammed through the door, shouting at Liza with the full timbre of his voice. As he crashed into the main hall, she was running up the winding steps to the sleeping chambers. Conar might have plowed his way through Roget and Grice if Legion A'Lex hadn't appeared in the library doorway.

  Conar and the others came to an abrupt halt. The two brothers faced one another across the foyer. Emotions seemed to swirl through the keep, straining the nerves of those witnessing this reunion.

  "I should have known," Legion finally whispered, breaking the heated charge of the moment. He took a step forward. "Who else would have known how to sneak men into this keep under my nose?" He took another step. "You knew every room, every passageway, where everything inside the keep was kept, and yet I never questioned how you knew." He shook his head.

  Conar glared. "Aye, well, it's easier to live with a dead man than it is to live with an enemy."

  Legion flinched. "Is that how you see me now? An enemy?"

  "If I have to look at you at all."

  "But why?"

  Conar snorted. "Men usually make an enemy when they steal what belongs to another."

  "What have I stolen? If you want the crown, it's yours. There isn't a man standing in this room who would contest that. I never wanted it! This keep is yours. The lands are yours. I have never thought of them as anything but a stewardship I was keeping for Corbin. I haven't taken them away from you. I haven't taken anything away from you."

  "What about my woman?" came the deadly reply.

  "Liza?" Legion asked, his voice stunned. "Liza is my wife."

  Conar's eyes flared with fury. "She belongs to me! I don't want the damned land, and I don't want the gods-be-damned keep. I want what is mine by divine right!"

  "Liza is my wife," Legion repeated, his voice going as hard as his brother's. "We are legally wed. You have to know that."

  Evil laughter burst from Conar's lips. "What I know is that Elizabeth McGregor belongs to me! She always has and she will again!"

  "Her name is Elizabeth A'Lex!" Legion's angry footsteps brought him almost to where Conar stood. "If that is why you finally decided to return to Boreas—"

  "Finally decided?" Conar bellowed. "Where do you think I was all those years, A'Lex? I had no way to come back!"

  "You've been home at least two years! Two years! That's how long the Darkwind has been plundering Temples in Serenia!" Legion's entire body was trembling with emotion. "Why didn't you let us know you were alive? Why didn't you send word?"

  "Would it have made a difference?" Conar shouted. "Would you have given her back to me two years ago, A'Lex?"

  Legion clenched his fists. "I wouldn't have given her up then and I won't now. She is mine and mine she will stay! The Tribunal annulled your marriage to her and she is legally mine!"

  "Legion…" Brelan began, trying to ward off trouble. He and Shalu moved closer.

  "The Tribunal had no right to annul our marriage!" Conar snarled. "I hadn't done anything wrong! You know that!"

  Legion shook his head. "It doesn't matter. She ceased to be yours the day my wedding bracelet encircled her arm!"

  With a snort of fury, Conar headed for the stairs, ignoring the man who turned to block his way.

  "Stay away from her, Conar!" Legion screamed. His hand shot out and clutched Conar's arm. "Stay away from her or I will—"

  "What?" Conar violently jerked his arm free of Legion's hold. "Have me arrested? Thrown in the dungeon?" He came toe to toe with his brother and glared into his face. "How 'bout having me tortured, huh? You want Bent to flog me again?" His voice went low and lethal. "I've had all those things done to me and I still came back for her. Do them to me again, and unless you kill me, I'll keep coming back until she's mine once more!"

  * * *

  Legion saw nothing but white-hot fury. He wanted to punish the man standing before him, to beat him like he had never done before. He drew back his fist and struck Conar twice, once along the jaw and once in the stomach, and his hands throbbed from the contact.

  Conar didn't budge, didn't even flinch, gave no indication that he had felt the blows, although Legion had put everything he had into them. Despite the power behind his punch, he could tell the blow had hardly registered on the rock-hard muscles of Conar's belly. And Conar's jaw, although sure to bruise, had not broken as Legion had intended.

  That angered Legion even more. He hit his brother again, once in the right eye with a wicked left cross, and again in a belly that didn't give in to the hard hit.

  "Is that the best you can do?" Conar taunted, standing his ground.

  Legion pulled ba
ck his fist and hit Conar squarely in the nose, drawing blood.

  He wasn't prepared for the all-out assault his brother launched.

  * * *

  Brelan couldn't believe what he was seeing. All of their lives, Legion had come out on top of every fight he and Conar had been in. The squabbles and petty fighting of childhood had sometimes changed to brawling rage as they grew older, but neither had ever tried to seriously hurt the other. They were too much alike, knowing how the other felt, and their love for one another had always tempered the blows, kept them from killing each other.

  Now, the love was gone. In its place was jealousy, blinding and all-consuming. No punches would be pulled this time and both men obviously knew it. The two of them were out for blood.

  Brelan looked away. One of them was going to get hurt, perhaps badly, but there wasn't a man there, Brelan included, who would have tried to stop what was coming. He turned and walked out the door, refusing to watch.

  * * *

  They circled one another, looking for an opening. Conar was barely aware of the number of men and women who had gathered in the main hall, who were spilling down the stairs.

  Conar saw the opening he needed. With one quick jolt of his arm, he sent a bruising punch into Legion's face, staggering the man, breaking his nose and splitting his lip. His left fist buried itself in Legion's taut belly, knocking the wind out of him with a loud whoosh. Two lightning jabs with his right hit Legion in the left eye with enough force to make it start to swell immediately. Pivoting on his left foot, he spun and sent a kick to Legion's head.

  * * *

  Legion felt himself falling. The foot to his head had made him see stars, hurt like hell. He landed hard on the edge of the stairs and slid down. He brought up a shaking hand to his jaw, trying to keep from wincing, hoping the damned thing wasn't broken. His gut was on fire from the jab Conar had given him; his right eye was already closed shut; his nose was streaming blood. With his tongue, he touched one of his front teeth; it wobbled in the socket.

  "Get up."

  Legion looked at the man standing above him. Seeing the flare of victory, hot and uncompromising, on Conar's face, he was stunned to the roots of his soul. The man straddling him had a rock-solid fist that meant business, and the viciousness to let it loose. The kick had been professional, his blows well-timed, exact, aimed to do the most damage. And they had.

  Conar dragged Legion to his feet and snared into his face. "I don't want your whore! I only wanted to see how far you were willing to go to keep her." He shook Legion hard. "You can have everything in this fucking keep. As for your wife, I wouldn't take her back if you put her on a silver platter, brought her naked ass to me, and held her down while I fucked her!"

  He let Legion drop and headed toward the front door.

  "Do you really hate me that much?" Legion called.

  Conar never broke stride. "Cross me again, A'Lex, and you'll find out how much!"

  Legion shook off the hands that reached down to help him. He got painfully to his feet and stood there wavering.

  "Are you all right?" someone asked.

  Legion shook his head.

  No, he thought. He'd never be all right again.

  Chapter 26

  * * *

  That night, he sat in his father's study—he would always think of it that way. The books with their musty bindings brought back pleasant childhood memories of his father and Hern, and the many times the two men had sat in their chairs, either reading or arguing over him.

  They never would again, he thought with pain.

  He lifted the glass of brandy to his lips and drank. A rueful grimace stretched over his lips as he thought of how Brelan and Shalu had gone through the keep, hiding the liquor from him. They hadn't, however, counted on the servants' loyalty.

  "So you beat them, did you, lad?" The old woman had grinned at him as she limped her way into the study. "They thought to bring you down, but you beat them, didn't you?"

  Conar smiled at the old cook, even hugged her. "I'd have bet a gold sovereign you were in your grave by now, Sadie," he teased.

  Sadie MacCorkingdale chuckled. "I'm too mean to die, Your Grace." She pulled a dusty bottle of brandy from her long apron. "Look what I got for you!"

  He smiled, taking the bottle from her. "Where'd you have this hidden?"

  "It's been around since before you left. One of them special brands you liked so well. Thought you needed it, I did. What's in that bottle will put you right back where you were before you left, son."

  Now, he snorted, thinking of Sadie's parting shot when she had left.

  He wished there was indeed a bottle of brew that could erase the last nine years. He leaned his head on the chair, peered at the shadows on the ceiling cast from the fire. A sound at the door made him raise his head.

  The door opened and she entered. Her stocking feet padded across the floor as she came to stand before him.

  "What do you want?" he asked, annoyed his voice was already slurring.

  "I want to speak with you."

  He shrugged. "Then. by all means. let's talk!" He took a hard pull on the bottle. "Light a lamp and we'll discuss whatever you want!"

  He sat the bottle on the floor beside him and watched her light the lamp on the desk. She cupped her hand around the flame until it was well-established, then set it on the table beside his chair. As she straightened, she gasped.

  "Pretty ugly, huh?" he quipped. He had shaved off his beard, and had shorn his waist-length blond hair to just below his shoulders. "Come now, Queen Liza! Surely I don't look that bad!"

  Liza shook her head. "You look tired, Milord."

  He threw back his head and laughed, her answer actually amusing him. "Tired? Aye, you could say that." He motioned for her to sit. When she didn't, he shrugged. "What is it you want?" he asked, one brow lifting in query.

  * * *

  Liza stared at the floor. It was hard looking into that beloved face, seeing the anger, the hurt, the wounded pride. She wanted to put her arms around him, to ease away his pain. When she looked into his eyes, she caught a glimpse of misery in the dark depths before his lids closed.

  "If you must take your anger out on someone, Milord, I would prefer it be me. I ask that you not blame your brother for my sins."

  "Did he send you here to run interference for him?"

  "You know he didn't. He didn't want me to come."

  "So, why did you?" He scooped up the bottle and took a gulp.

  She frowned, wishing he wouldn't drink so much. "There are things we need to discuss."

  He wiped the back of his hand across his wet lips. "I can't imagine anything we have to say to one another. There's only one thing I want from you."

  Liza blushed. "There are things I need—"

  "I need you to fulfill your bargain. What you need is of no concern to me." His words became difficult to understand, and the odd accent had crept back into his speech.

  "If I give you what you want," she shot back, "will you listen to me?"

  His smile was deadly. "It depends on how well you serve my need." He emptied the bottle and flung it across the room where it landed with a thud against the paneling.

  Liza jumped. "What is it you want from me?"

  A smile overspread his face, stretching the scars on his left cheek. He put his hands behind his head and laced the fingers together. As Conar continued to stare at her, she knew he could see the effect his silence was having on her nerves. His tawny brow arched in innocence, but the demonic blue gleam in his dark eyes spoke vengeance.

  "You mean to humiliate me, is that it?" she asked, her heart hammering.

  "I mean to do something else to you." The hard, cold, calculating look returned. "You bargained with the wrong man this time, Queen Liza." His voice went as soft as a whisper. "Lock the door."

  She couldn't believe she had heard correctly. "What?"

  "I want no interruptions while you make good on your bargain."

  "Here?"
<
br />   His harsh chuckle made her blanch. "I remember many times when the water, the ground, or grotto sand would have sufficed. I wasn't aware whores made distinctions in where they fornicated."

  "I am no whore!"

  "You will be when I am finished tonight!"

  Enraged, she turned toward the door, intending to flee.

  "If you don't fulfill your bargain, here and now, I'll take you under your husband's nose! And I'll make him watch. If you don't think I will, try me!"

  She spun around and stared at him, trembling with fury. She sensed he would do exactly as he threatened.

  "Lock it!" he spat.

  She savagely twisted the lock in its hasp.

  "Come here, Liza."

  Straightening her shoulders, she crept back toward his chair.

  He leaned back his head. One side of his mouth twisted upward. "Strip for me, Queen Liza. Let me see if that beautiful body has changed."

  For a long time she stood looking at him, watching the speculation glowing in his eyes. His face was carefully blank, his attitude, bored. When she made no move to do as he asked, he smiled.

  "I'm waiting." Again that wicked slash of golden brow arched. "Or would you rather I strip you myself."

  With her face burning, she reached behind her and began unbuttoning the pearl clasps that held her gown together, refusing to meet his look. When she finished, she let the gown fall, pooling at her feet. She stood shivering in her chemise.

  "Go on." His voice was a soft caress.

  Taking a deep breath, she tugged down the chemise over her hips and kicked it away. Only her garter belt and stockings remained. She felt his cool assessment running over her naked breasts and yearned to cover herself.

  "Come here."

  When she hesitated, he started to get up. Liza hurried to him, not knowing what he might do otherwise. She stood before him, staring at the floor.

  "Put your foot up here." He patted the chair cushion between his legs.

  When she did as he asked, he unhooked her stocking and rolled it down her leg. At his silent command, she placed her other foot on the cushion, and he removed that stocking as well. As she returned her foot to the floor, he tugged down the garter belt. She strove hard not to feel his callused hands on her flesh.