The Prince of Warwood and The Sword of the Chosen (Book 3)

by J. Noel Clinton

  After walking Robbie to her next class, Xavier was nearly ten minutes late for anima-lingua, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel worried. Those few stolen moments with Robbie had been the most amazing moments of his life. He didn’t have it in him to be anxious about anything. No matter what Sir Blaire had to say about his tardiness, it was worth it. Robbie liked him. She didn’t just like him; she really liked him. The kiss wasn’t the only indication of this; it was in her thoughts as well. She was in love with him, and if her thoughts were to be believed, she had been since before they ever came to Warwood.

  With this thought, he brazenly strolled into class grinning ear to ear.

  “Prince Wells! Why are you late?” Sir Blaire barked.

  “I was ah…busy with…someone, sir,” Xavier replied still grinning.

  “Really now? Well, I hope it was worth it, young sire, because you’ve just earned yourself detention. Report to me after classes,” Blaire growled irritably.

  “Yes, sir,” he chirped, moving toward his seat next to Drew.

  Drew grinned at him. “You were busy with…someone, huh? Would that someone be a cute little brunette?”

  Xavier shrugged, his grin growing.

  After he served his grueling detention cleaning animal cages, he barely had enough time to shower before dinner. Lana was waiting for him at the head table and greeted him with a smile as he approached.

  “How was your day, sweetie?” she asked as he sat next to her.

  “Pretty good,” he chirped.

  “I’m glad to hear that. So there weren’t any problems today?”

  “Nope, not really.”

  “Really? That’s strange because Sir Blaire told me differently. He said that you were late to class and earned detention.”

  He shrugged. “Yeah, but it wasn’t a big deal.”

  “Well, I’m afraid your uncle doesn’t agree, and I doubt your father would either.” Xavier stiffened before she added softly with a wink, “But, I convinced Michael to let me chew you out.”

  He expelled a breath and smiled. “Thanks, Lana. I…I was just talking to Robbie.”

  “I see. You were just talking with her then,” she commented with amusement.

  Xavier blushed and began playing with his food.

  “That’s what I thought. Look, sweetie, I’m glad you and Robbie made up, but you need to go slow. Get used to being friends again before you escalate the relationship into something more. Okay?”

  He gave her a bashful glance before whispering, “I’ll try, but I think I like her more than just as a friend. I think I always have.”

  Chapter 19

  The Break Up

  That night, Xavier was awakened by a loud thump in the common room. Hearing hushed voices, he climbed from bed and shuffled toward the partially open door. His father was back. He looked exhausted and appeared to have simply collapsed onto the sofa.

  “Dad!” he gasped, running and throwing himself into his father’s arms. Jeremiah gave a soft grunt of pain before enclosing the boy in his arms.

  “Hello, son. How have you been? Behaving yourself?” he asked with a tired, hoarse voice.

  “Yeah, well, I tried to,” he replied with a sheepish grin, sitting up and seeing his father’s wincing, bruised face. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah,” Jeremiah answered with a weak smile. “Just a bit banged up.”

  “You should go tell Lana your back. She’s been really worried about you. I haven’t been reading her mind or anything,” he reassured his father. “But her thoughts about you are too strong not to hear some of it. I’ve tried to keep her mind off things, but I don’t think I was that good at it. I only seemed to remind her of you.”

  Jeremiah smiled weakly at him and tussled his hair affectionately. “I appreciate you looking out for her, son.”

  “Anytime! I think Lana’s great! I’m glad you’re seeing one another.”

  His father’s smile dropped. “Son, we need…”

  “Jeremiah! What happened?” Spencer hissed from the door to the king’s bedchambers.

  “We ran into a little trouble…” Ephraim answered roughly from the doorway, looking as scuffed up as the king.

  “Should I call for a healer?” Spencer asked.

  “No!” Jeremiah snapped standing and dislodging Xavier from his lap. Then in a calmer, but nonetheless urgent voice, he explained, “There’s too much to be done, Mike. I need you to go and wake Loren.”

  “Alright, but are you sure you don’t need to see…”

  “I’m sure. Loren is the only man I need to see right now,” Jeremiah interrupted with such force, Mike simply nodded and left the chambers.

  “Jer? What about Lana?” Ephraim whispered.

  “I’ll talk to her in the morning,” he answered shortly.

  “Are you sure? Are you really going to…”

  “Hardcastle!” the king snapped, nodding toward Xavier.

  Ephraim understood the silent command and clamped his mouth shut.

  “Son, you should go back to bed. It’s only three o’clock, and you still have classes tomorrow,” his father ordered gently.

  “But, Dad! I want to stay up with you…”

  “No! I’m too tired to argue with you, boy. Now, go to bed!” he barked.

  His father’s words stung like he had been slapped with them. His head dropped despondently, and reluctantly he turned toward his room.

  “Xavier?” his father called, stopping him. “I’m sorry I snapped at you. I’m just really tired,” he added softly, moving to him, kissing his forehead, and squeezing him close. “I’m very glad to see you. I’ve missed you.”

  He smiled and muttered against his father’s chest, “Me too, Dad. Night.”

  Xavier entered the small room but didn’t go back to bed. He paused next to the door with his hand on the knob and listened. After a moment, he slowly, silently opened the door and peered out into the common room.

  “Ephraim, I’m sure about Lana. We’ve discussed this. You know what William did to Julia. Do you think he wouldn’t do the same to Lana if he discovered…that…that I love her?” Jeremiah didn’t wait for the other man to respond as he continued savagely, “You know he’d do the same vile things to her, or worse, as I watched!”

  “I understand that, Jer, but the boy won’t. It’s obvious that he’s gotten very close to Lana in the past few days. So when you do this, it isn’t just one heart you’ll break; it’ll be two,” Ephraim told him fiercely.

  “No, my friend. There’s a third heart in all this,” he sighed.

  But, before Xavier could wonder what this cryptic conversation meant, Loren rushed into the room with Lucy, Spencer, and Lana behind him. Jeremiah tensed as his tired gaze fell on her.

  “Lana?” he sighed sadly.

  “Jeremiah!” she gasped, running to him and wrapping herself around him.

  His arms moved to hold her, but he didn’t. Awkwardly, they dropped to his sides, and he stepped out of her embrace.

  She looked up at him, bemused. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” she asked, stroking his bruised jaw.

  He went rigid and flinched at her touch.

  “What? What is it, Jeremy?” she continued, searching his face.

  He turned away and looked heavenward. Then, sighing heavily, he whipped around to her. “I can’t do this,” he whispered savagely.

  She blinked and asked quietly, “Do what?”

  “This!” he hissed, gesturing wildly between them.

  “What? What are you talking about?” she demanded, her voice growing stouter.

  The king growled in frustration and turned his back to her.

  “What’s going on, Jeremiah? Just spit it out!” Lana ordered, her voice growing harsh.

  “I told you!” he roared, and she flinched.

  She glared incredulously at the king, her eyes narrowing and darkening in anger. “No! You haven’t!” she told him furiously.

  “Lord, woman! You’re not that dense! Wh
y do I have to spell it out for you?” he spat.

  Lana’s hand came without warning, and with a loud smack, the king’s head snapped to the side.

  “Say it! I want to hear you say it!” she shouted, tears streaming down her cheeks.

  He avoided her eyes and hissed, “Lana…”

  “No! Just say it! Say it. But know this, Jeremiah Wells, if you say it, there’s no taking it back! If you do this,” her voice drowned in a sob as she fought to continue, “there’s…there’s no taking me back!”

  His eyes darted to hers, and his face grew pale and stricken. Then, clenching his jaw, he glared down at her with a rock-hard expression and said quietly, “We’re through, Lana. I must focus on regaining Warwood…I don’t have time for it all. Damn it, Lana…I don’t love you!”

  Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks, and he turned away from her, his face crumpling in pain. After a long, quiet moment, she wiped her face and whispered, “Liar.”

  He spun and watched as she stomped from the room.

  “I cannot believe you!” Lucy hissed. “I never thought you were capable of being that cruel! Shame on you, Jeremiah Wells!” Then, she hurried out of the chamber after Lana.

  Xavier felt a sickening lump of despair drop into the pit of his stomach. What had just happened? Why had his father said those things? Why had he hurt Lana?

  “Dad? What…why…why did you do that?” he hissed, stepping into the room. “Why? I mean…You love her, right? You told me you did!”

  He looked down at his son with surprise. Regret flickered across his face before he answered quietly, “It doesn’t concern you, son. Go back to bed.” Then, rubbing the angry, red imprint on his cheek, he hissed dryly to Ephraim, “Lord Almighty, that woman can hit!”

  “Not my concern?” he spat, stomping further into the room. “Not my concern! She could have been my new mother, and you ruined it…you…you big…”

  “Stop right there, boy. Don’t you dare finish that sentence!” his father growled.

  “No!” he yelled. “You deserved that slap! If I was bigger, I’d punch you myself, you jerk!”

  “Whoa!” he bellowed. “Watch the attitude, young man, before you entice a few slaps from me!”

  “Fine!” Xavier barked. “You’re the one who’s wrong, but it’s me who’s going to get spanked just because you don’t have the balls to admit when you’re wrong!”

  The king lunged at him, but he danced away and raced from the chambers.

  “Jer, no! The boy’s hurting. Just…let it go,” Ephraim told him, grabbing him.

  “Let it go? He has no right talking to me like that!” he growled.

  “Maybe not,” Ephraim commented calmly, “but the boy heard you make a mess of your talk with Lana. He’s upset.”

  “Damn it, Ephraim. You know why I did it! You know what William would do to her if he ever found out about her. I couldn’t bear it if I brought her that kind of pain!”

  “But Xavier doesn’t know or understand your reasons. He only saw his father being a jerk to a woman he began to think of as a mother.”

  “Is that what this fiasco was all about?” Loren asked quietly. “All of this was in order to protect Lana? God, there had to be a better way, Jer! Why didn’t you just tell her all this?”

  “Tell her?” he spat. “Lord, Loren! Do you really think that would have worked? That would be like throwing a teaspoon of water on a forest fire! Don’t you see? I had to push her away, hard, to keep her from coming back to me and placing herself in danger. There was just no other way!” The king deflated and collapsed onto the sofa, burying his face in his hands.

  “Well, you know the old saying, ‘Be careful what you wish for.’ You just might get it,” Loren added.

  Xavier ran with no thought as to where to go, but soon he found himself next to the river. He sat for several minutes at the water’s edge, simply watching the roiling, roaring water. Then, when he felt a cold draft on the back of his neck, he knew he was no longer alone.

  “Hello, Xavier,” a deep voice called quietly from behind him.

  He turned and saw the handsome, bearded face of the prophet, Abraham Vincent. Once again, he had the distinct feeling of déjà vu. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he somehow knew the man. However, as quickly as the feeling came, it was gone, and he gave the man a curt nod before turning back to the river.

  The prophet approached and sat next to him.

  “Your father ended his relationship with Lana?” he asked quietly.

  Xavier nodded, and the prophet sighed.

  He looked eagerly up at the man next to him. “Sir? Will they make up? Do they work things out?”

  Again, the prophet sighed. “That all depends. It’s not clear one way or the other, Xavier, but I will tell you this: Lana Applegate will not come back to your father. She’s a stubborn woman. It must be your father who swallows his pride and goes to her.”

  “Great!” he groaned. “That’ll never happen.”

  The two sat comfortably in silence for several minutes, until finally, Xavier blurted, “What’s a time bender?”

  “Where did you…” He studied the boy next to him and smiled. “Ah, that’s right. You were listening to your father and I talk from inside the tent at Mirror Lake.”

  Xavier looked away guiltily and nodded.

  Abraham Vincent looked out over the water as he carefully chose his words. Finally, he explained, “A time bender has the ability to travel back in time. It’s a rare ability, almost as rare as aeronautics, the ability to fly. Most people who develop this ability can only alter time within a few hours or at most a few days. No time bender has ever had the ability or the strength to travel years into the past until me.”

  “Years? What year are you from?” he asked, intrigued.

  “About fifty years into the future,” he answered.

  “Fifty years? Whoa!” Xavier gasped, trying to wrap his mind around this concept. Then, he asked quietly, “Sir? If you’re a prophet and a time bender, why didn’t you save my mother? Why didn’t you warn Maggie about the illness and to stay away from Catherine?”

  Again, the prophet hesitated before answering. “Prince Xavier, there are cosmic rules that govern my abilities. You see…I can only materialize near the Clavis de Rex. I am bound to it. It is an instrument, a catalyst, for my powers. So, I couldn’t have possibly warned your mother. As for Maggie, I warned you, but you chose not to heed my warning.”

  Guilt stabbed deep into Xavier’s chest, and he slumped in despair.

  “Now, boy! None of that! Wallowing in guilt and feeling sorry for yourself will not change anything,” the prophet scolded, nudging him affectionately with his elbow.

  The odd pair stared into the roaring river for several long seconds. Once again Xavier was struck by how at ease and comfortable he felt in the old man’s presence.

  “The mountain’s river has always been my place to think things through, too,” he whispered softly. “It lulls and relaxes me. I know it’s hard to imagine this now, but things will work out.”

  Xavier believed him. He trusted the prophet more than he trusted just about anybody. He nodded. “Sir? Can you predict my future? Like, can you tell me who I’ll marry, when I’ll die, and that kind of stuff?”

  “Ordinarily, no. Visions don’t work like that. I don’t have control over what I see, and it’s not always easy to determine the right course of action,” he told him.

  “Well, I imagine being a time bender should help. I mean, if you made a mistake, you can just go back in time…”

  The prophet began shaking his head long before Xavier could finish. “It doesn’t work like that, boy. I cannot leap into a period of time prior to another jump.”

  “Huh?” he muttered.

  “Okay, look,” the prophet began, turning to squarely face Xavier. “Right now, I’m in this time and place with you. But if something were to happen while I’m here, I can’t leap into a time before this point in time. Once I leap, the ener
gy acts as a…well, like a roadblock so that I’m unable to come back or visit time periods before it.”

  “Oh. Well, that kind of sucks. Then, you couldn’t fix a mistake if you made it?”

  “No. I couldn’t. This is why I only interfere with destinies that must be changed. It may sound harsh to you, Xavier, but I must pick and choose my battles. And I’m never sure that what I’ve done will truly work out for the best until I leap back home, assess the people and changes there, and allow the altered, new memories to sort of download into my brain,” the prophet said.

  It all sounded very complicated, and Xavier wasn’t sure he truly understood. Instead of seeking an explanation, he changed the subject. “So…what’s it like there, your home? Are you married? Do you have a family?”

  The prophet smiled surreptitiously. “Yes.”

  “Am I still alive? Am I king?” he asked.

  The prophet went rigid, and Xavier thought he wouldn’t answer. But finally, he did, but he did so begrudgingly, as though it was against his better judgment. “Yes. You are a good king.”

  “Really? Do you know me? Are we friends?” he questioned, straightening with interest.

  Abraham Vincent smiled. “Yes to both of your questions, but we’re much more than friends, Your Highness.”

  Before he could ask him what he meant, Abraham stopped him with a light chuckle. “Please, sire. Don’t ask. I can’t tell you any more than that. Knowing too much about the future can alter it needlessly.”

  Xavier nodded, biting back the question, but another question boiled over and before he could stop himself, he blurted out, “Can you jump into the future?”

  Abraham looked at him and replied, “Like I said, it’s never a good idea for anyone to know too much about the future.”

  Though he nodded, Xavier didn’t understand or agree with the prophet. Surely knowing what was going to happen was a good thing! If it was bad, you could stop it. If it wasn’t, then no harm done.

  With a jovial clap to Xavier’s back, the prophet stood. “Well, I better get going. I need to visit with Loren, Ephraim, and your father. What do you say you warn your father of my visit? He’s never thrilled when I appear without warning. I’ll see you in the Royal Chambers in a few minutes.”