WINDREAPER

by Charlotte Boyett-Compo

  Liza was as confused as Corbin regarding Conar's attitude toward the boy named Regan. Conar seemed to want no more to do with that son than he did with Corbin. The gentle, womanly part of her soul felt sorry for the child, despite who his mother was and how he had been conceived.

  "He's so lonely, Mama," Corbin told her.

  "How do you know?"

  He winced. "I've spoken to him."

  Liza knew he had. She inquired after Regan every day, making sure all was done for him that was done for her own children. But she was acutely aware Regan was shunned by nearly everyone in the keep. Corbin seemed to be the only child who would speak to him.

  "Papa told me it was because Conar hates Regan's mother that he keeps him away from us," Corbin said, "Papa" referring to Legion, the man he called "father." "But he doesn't hate you, now, does he, Mama?"

  "I don't know how he truly feels about me, Corbi."

  Liza stroked his bright gold hair. It was always "Conar" whenever Corbin referred to his true father. The distinction bothered her greatly and her feelings must have shown, for Corbin amended what he had said.

  "My father," he stressed, "claimed Regan, but he has yet to claim me. That hurts, Mama. I know how Regan feels being kept apart from him."

  Liza sighed. "He has claimed you in his heart, Corbi. Give him time. He will claim you before the entire world. You are his child and heir to the throne of your homeland."

  "But when, Mama?"

  Liza had no answer. She took him into her arms, kissing the top of his flaxen hair, something becoming hard to do, since Corbin was growing in leaps and bounds. "Soon, I hope, my son. Soon."

  * * *

  From his place beside the tangled thorn bush near the sea gate, Regan watched the exchange between mother and son. He hated any show of affection she showed his half-brother, almost as much as he hated Corbin.

  A curl rose on his lips. He spat into the dirt. His own mother had never coddled him like that. It simply wasn't a thing that was relevant. Others had held him, held him close, but not in the way this woman was holding Corbin.

  "Bitch!" he whispered. "Faithless bitch!"

  His own mother had planned an exacting revenge on his sire, and in order to carry out the plan, it was important that Regan play out the part Kaileel Tohre and his mother had written for him. Having this bitch on his side would make things much easier.

  His eyes narrowed for a moment, then he screwed up his face, made himself cry. Tiny, sinister hiccups of tears came from his throat as he pretended to muffle them.

  * * *

  Liza heard a sound and turned to look. She scanned the garden until she saw the little boy crouched in the mass of thorns. "Regan?"

  He lifted his head. "I…know…I…shouldn't…be…here…"

  "Nonsense." With pity, Liza went to him. Kneeling, she smiled. "This is your home, too."

  "I…don't…have…a…home…Majesty."

  A warning went off in Liza's head, but the wretched look on the boy's tearful face struck a responsive chord within her maternal instincts and she took him into her arms. "For as long as you care to make this place your home, it will be."

  A hitching sob tore from him as he buried himself in the hollow of her shoulder.

  Liza marveled at how painfully thin and bony his small frame was compared to her children. She felt his shoulder blades sticking out and her fingers closed around spindly ribs along his sides.

  "My mama gave me away!" Regan wailed, looking up through wet lashes.

  "She sent you to your father."

  "He doesn't want me, either!"

  Liza heard the self-pity, yet felt he was far more complex and worldly than his little-boy words.

  "Papa hates me!"

  Liza cradled the quivering body. "Your papa doesn't hate you. He's just been ill, that's all. He'll see you when he returns."

  "He never did when he was here!'

  "But he wasn't well, then. When he comes home, he'll be himself again." Liza wasn't sure that would be the case.

  "You're going to see him, aren't you?" Regan wailed, lifting his face. "Corbin said so. He's going, too. Why can't I go? If Papa doesn't hate me, why doesn't he want me to go to Ivor Keep?"

  Liza hesitated. She heard Regan's cries and saw the look of pleading on Corbin's face, but something shadowed in her mind. It was on her tongue to tell Regan he just couldn't go because no one at Ivor knew she was coming.

  She felt uneasy, torn. A part of her feared the little boy, yet she didn't know why. He had a bit of his father's powers, and probably quite a lot of his mother's, but Liza sincerely doubted he knew how to use them to any effect at this early age. Still, she hesitated.

  * * *

  Regan could feel her confusion and laughed to himself at her ignorance. Why she could not fathom the depth of his powers, his true nature, astounded him, for he had been told she was good at her craft. Obviously, she had lost most of her faculties. Regan knew himself to be capable of more than anyone, even his mother and Kaileel Tohre knew. Housed within his young body was the essence of an evil so malignant, so rampant, that it was a wonder the entire world did not see it.

  Letting his tousled head fall back, he gazed up with a piteous smile. "I'll understand if you don't take me, Majesty. You have no reason to love me, either."

  It had been a phrase designed to catch, and hold, her attention, and it did. With a look of hurt on her beautiful face, she smiled. "I care for you, Regan. You are his son."

  He had her. "May I go with you, then? I won't be any trouble."

  Her face crinkled; her eyes narrowed with uncertainty. "Well, I don't—"

  "Please, Mama?" Corbin begged.

  "Well, all right. You can go, but you must behave, understand?"

  Regan hugged her, wondering why her arms felt so nice around him. Why the steady beat of her heart against his cheek felt safe and loving. Why he felt protected and wanted. Why he wanted to cry with real tears instead of the false ones that had set his plan in motion. He shuddered as the unaccustomed feelings stole over his heart.

  He drew his body close to hers. "Please, just hold me, Lady."

  "You're safe here, Regan," she told him. "You're safe with us."

  Chapter 31

  * * *

  "Good morning." Legion was sitting with his knees drawn up to his chest, his arms wrapped around them, his chin resting on a forearm. He was looking at Conar, who struggled out of a restless sleep.

  Legion's cheerful smile allied any fears Conar had concerning how his brother was going to act toward him. "Morning."

  "Hungry? Think you could keep something down?"

  Conar nodded.

  "Teal?" Legion called. He unwound his massive body and stretched his arms over his head. When Teal opened the door, Legion turned. "Have the cook scramble some eggs for our friend."

  Teal grinned. "He's hungry?" When Legion nodded, Teal swung his gaze to Conar. "How are you feeling?"

  Conar shrugged, his head aching as he tried to move. For a moment, the room spun crazily away from him and he had to close his eyes.

  "A bit woozie still," Teal observed, then left.

  Conar eased himself up along the wall into a sitting position, taking a deep breath to still his vertigo. He brought up his hands, scrubbed at his face, and grimaced as the bristly beard scraped his palms. "Do I look as bad as I feel?"

  "You're not feeling any better at all?" Legion inquired, frowning.

  "I hurt."

  Legion nodded. "Marsh says that will pass. You want a bath? And someone to help you shave?"

  Conar looked at his trembling hands. "I would appreciate it." He clasped his shaking hands together, attempting to still them.

  Legion's brows knit together in concern. "It will be all right."

  "Will it?"

  "The worst has passed, Conar. It's all downhill from here."

  "Like a snowball into hell."

  "After you eat, would you like to take a little walk outside in the fresh air? It
'd be good for you."

  "Whatever you want."

  Teal arrived with a plate of scrambled eggs, buttered biscuits, and a tankard of strong tea. The gypsy babbled a mile a minute about inconsequential things that bordered on lunacy, but at least he held Conar's attention.

  "Stay with him, du Mer," Legion said. "I won't be gone long. I'll have Sentian and Marsh get a bath ready for him."

  "We'll be just fine, won't we?" Teal said cheerfully, then continued feeding Conar his breakfast.

  * * *

  Legion wasn't the least bit surprised that everyone in the keep knew Conar was on the mend at last. Everywhere he looked, he saw smiles and heard laughter that hadn't been in Ivor Keep since their arrival.

  In the library, he sat beside Brelan on the long bench before the fire. "He seems to be well enough, but—"

  "Give him time, Legion. He's been through hell these last few weeks. Is it a wonder he's a bit distracted? He'll come around."

  "I don't like the look in his eyes, Bre. It scares me."

  "You think he might try something again?"

  "He might. He's awfully quiet."

  "Then we don't leave him alone until we're sure." Brelan draped his arm around Legion's shoulder. "We take care of our brother."

  * * *

  The walk, like the food and bath, helped make the color rise in Conar's sunken cheeks, or so the others commented to him. His breeches were so loose they had buckled a belt around them to keep them from falling, and his shirt sagged across his shoulders, but the stroll through the crisp winter afternoon refreshed him.

  He was unsteady on his feet, but had plenty of help as he ventured outside. Everyone had found a reason to be nearby, it seemed. If they thought they were fooling him with their game, they were wrong. Though he appreciated what they were doing, it meant little to him. He viewed it as one more reason to be in their debt, and that was something he didn't like. He bore no ill toward his men—they had saved his life, such as it was—but he didn't care one way or the other.

  Once back inside, he sat on his mattress, easing the ache in his shaking legs. He hung his head with exhaustion; the short stroll had both winded and tired him. He didn't look up as Roget asked if he was sleepy. He merely nodded. But he did look up when Roget asked for his belt and held out his hand.

  "Why?"

  "Just give me the belt. You don't need it while you sleep." Roget's voice had taken on a stern note.

  Sudden understanding hit him. "You think I'll use it to hang myself?"

  "Give me the belt," Roget repeated.

  Looking Roget in the eye, he unbuckled and drew the belt from around his waist, then held it out. He didn't say a word, only stretched out on the mattress. When he heard the rattle of iron, he looked up.

  Behind Roget stood Thom Loure, holding a length of manacle chain.

  "You're going to chain me, again?"

  "No one can watch you right now and we—"

  "You don't trust me."

  Roget nodded. "You can't be trusted yet. You have to earn our trust all over again."

  Conar's eyes shifted to the chain as Thom hunkered down to attach it to the iron band still around his left ankle. He shook his head, then turned over, his back to the men. When he heard the door close, he ground his teeth. Once their foofalls dissipated, he was at the window, glaring down into the frozen courtyard, grimacing in anger.

  "Son-of-a-bitch." He pulled on the window bars that had been installed to keep him from escaping. He was about to stalk back to the mattress when one of the heavy brocade draperies caught his attention. A humorless smile slid into place as his gaze went up the long drapery sashes. He glanced over his shoulder at the closed door and his grin grew wider.

  With all his waning strength, he grasped one of the long sashes and yanked until it came free. Staggering back to his mattress, he sat down and began to work with the sash. All the while, the same humorless, vindictive smile played over his mouth.

  * * *

  A few hours later, Roget came in to check on Conar. The first thing he saw was something dangling from a ceiling beam. His shocked look went from the dangling apparition to the man sitting against the wall, staring calmly back at him. Roget snarled and yelled over his shoulder. "Legion!"

  Conar grinned devilishly.

  Du Mer glared at Conar, taking in the casual way his legs were crossed at the ankles, at the way his arms were folded nonchalantly over his chest, the way his head was cocked to one side. He fumed with rage. "Legion!"

  Legion burst through the door and stopped, his attention going to the thing swinging from the ceiling. A look of horror passed over his face. "Where the hell did that come from?"

  "Him!" Roget jabbed a finger at Conar.

  "Roget took away my belt," Conar said. "He was afraid I'd hang myself. He didn't think about the drapery sashes, though. They make rather nice nooses, don't they?" There was a lilt to his weak voice.

  "That's not funny!" Legion yelled, the color draining from his face.

  Conar chuckled. "I didn't think so, either."

  Legion turned on Roget. "Get that damned thing down from there!" Striding to the mattress, he glowered down at Conar. "If you ever do that again—"

  "Then don't treat me like a child. I'm not going to do away with myself. I have other plans for my life. Ending it is not one of them."

  "And we're supposed to believe that?" Legion shouted, his body shaking.

  "Believe what you will. I was weak, I was stupid, I made a mistake. If it weren't for you and the others, I'd be dead now. I didn't realize how much my life meant to all of you. Not until Roget insisted on taking my belt. He said I had to earn your trust again. I realized that was important to me. You cared for me, in more ways than one. It's up to me now to finish what I started. To do what is expected of me."

  "When you are well enough, we'll talk about you—"

  "Let me show you something, Legion." Conar nodded toward the iron band around his ankle. He squinted and the band popped loose, falling to the mattress. His eyes lifted slowly to Legion's. "I could have done that at any time. As a matter of fact, I have done it many times." His gaze shifted to the window where, after a steady stare, the iron bars fell one at a time, crashing to the ground. "Or I could have done this." One moment Legion and Roget were glaring at him, the next he was no longer in the room.

  "What the…" Roget whispered.

  When a slight gust of wind flowed through the room, Conar materialized before their eyes and grinned. "See how easily I could have left you?"

  Legion's mouth dropped open. Roget let out a pained groan.

  "There is no power on earth that is capable of holding me here, Legion. I stayed because I wanted to, not because you made it so I couldn't leave."

  Legion snapped his mouth shut. "I like proving you wrong, little boy. There is one power you can't control and manipulate, and it was that power that kept you prisoner."

  "I stayed because it was my choice."

  "You stayed because the power of love kept you here!"

  "Your love, not mine. I had no love for myself or anyone else."

  Roget looked at Legion. "He thinks we love him, A'Lex!"

  Legion snorted. "What he doesn't know can't hurt him, I suppose."

  "There is something else, Legion." Conar turned serious.

  "What?" Legion growled, obviously still stunned by Conar's ability to disappear.

  "It's about Liza."

  Legion's tone turned cold. "What about her?"

  "She has her powers back. I don't know how, but she does. I am going to need her to do what must be done. It was our combined power that fought Kaileel once before and won. This time, we can finish him."

  Legion stiffened. "Liza is—"

  "Your wife. I know. But she is still my helpmeet, Legion. I'm not up to traveling yet, but send Bre after her. He can protect her."

  "That won't be necessary," Shalu called from the opened door. "The lady is here—and she has your youngest sons with her!"


  Chapter 32

  * * *

  A frosty hint of anger iced Legion A'Lex's hard words as he spoke to his wife. "What are you doing here?"

  "It's been a long journey and I know the children are hungry. When I have fed—"

  "The servants will feed them." After turning his cold glare to Teal du Mer, he asked the gypsy to take the two boys into the kitchen.

  "It's been a long time since I've been at Ivor," Liza said, as if trying to forestall the scene she knew would be played out between them.

  Legion folded his arms across his chest. "Answer me. What are you doing here?" He didn't know if he was angrier at her for coming—although he had never denied her doing so—or at his brother's calm command to have her brought there.

  "Is he better?"

  "Answer me!" Legion shouted. "You'll get no reply until you do!"

  She looked at him. "I am here to help. He needs me, Legion."

  The insane part of Legion that feared Liza's old love for Conar plunged an ice-cold blade into his belly and struck the center of his soul. He clenched his hands into fists and ground his teeth to still the urge to bellow his fury. "He has all the help he needs. There's no reason for you to have come. We have been perfectly capable of caring for his needs."

  "That's not what I meant, and you know it. I'm not here to see to his physical needs." She blushed, her lovely face turning away from Legion's instant flare of rage. "His powers and mine are needed to defeat Tohre," she rushed on. "Conar knows it, and I know it. When my powers returned, I felt him calling to me."

  "He did what? By all that's holy—"

  "No!" she snapped. "He didn't call to me in the way you think. That part of him which is still connected to me, to our souls, called out. There will always be that connection, Legion. You can't change what was destined."

  "And what if I don't let you see him?" he spat, clutching his fists. "What if I send you back, now, this minute?"

  She shook her head. "You can't. There are forces at work here, stronger than any of us, that will see Conar and I together again. Not as husband and wife, for I am truly yours, in that respect, Milord. But as sorcerer and consort. He needs the combined strength of our powers to do what he knows must be done. It is time."