Second Son - A Prequel to The Shattered Throne

by Cate Dean

  “Sleeping, milord. He will be fine,” she said, needing to ease the fear in his brother’s eyes. Liam Brachon was only a few months older, but after Winter Festival, when he officially became Duke, the weight of governing the Western coast would rest on his young shoulders. He hardly needed worry for his brother to add to it. “His hand will be stiff for a while, as it heals. But there won’t be any lasting effects.”

  “Thank you.” Relief had his hunched shoulders relaxing. “I will see that payment is sent to your mistress. I will show you out, since my mother is recently returned, and after all you did for Micah, I don’t believe you should have to face—”

  “Liam!”

  He halted. “Damn,” he whispered. “Too late.” His hand closed over Raine’s arm. “Stay behind me, let me do the talking. I am going to be up front with you, Raine. My mother does not like Shira, and hates that my father wrote their acceptance into the Western duchy into law. Please don’t say anything to her, no matter how she provokes you.”

  “I understand.”

  “Good.” He squeezed her arm before he let go, turning just as the Duchess stalked into sight. “Micah is fine, Mother. I was just about to—”

  “Get out of my way, Liam.”

  “No.” The authority in that one word halted the Duchess. She stared at him, her mouth open. “This girl tended my brother, took better care of him than any physician I’ve ever had poke at me. I will not allow you to harm her.”

  “When you take the throne, Liam, then your word will be law. Until then—”

  “It is the law. My father made it so.” He stepped forward, forcing the Duchess to look up at him. “I call you Mother out of respect, for my father’s love of you, and that you are Micah’s mother. But I will not have your private prejudices stain my family’s honor. Are we understood, Elena?”

  The hate that flashed in the Duchess’s dark blue eyes startled Raine. She stepped back from it, and let out a cry when the Duchess lunged at her.

  “Elena!” Liam caught her, hauling her back. “See to Micah. I will escort Raine out, and if I hear any word of her being harmed after today, you will not be exempt because you married my father.”

  The Duchess straightened, calming. “Forgive me, Liam. You know my family’s history with them. I do not want her touching my son again.”

  Liam let her go and she strode down the hall, disappearing into the sitting room.

  “Raine—”

  “No apologies, milord. I understand the history I carry around with me. Sometimes it smacks me up the side of the head.”

  His laughter eased the tension. “Despite her proclamation, I would like you to follow up with Micah. I wasn’t lying—you are the best I’ve seen, Raine. Have you thought of attending the academy?”

  She swallowed. “They won’t have me, milord.” She raised her hand before he said anything, made a hasty promise he couldn’t keep. “I am learning, on my own, thanks to the intervention of my mistress’s brother—your advisor.”

  “Joseph?”

  “Yes.” She fought to keep from smiling at the shock on his face. “My mistress, Celia, bought my bond knowing I had apprenticed to a physician. She wanted me to continue that training, since my bond will be paid soon. My rejection by the academy angered her.” Infuriated would be a better description; Raine had never seen her like that. The result was meeting her brother, who turned out to be the Duke’s court advisor, and a man with some powerful connections. “I will be honored to treat your brother, milord.”

  “Good. Did you need an escort home?”

  “I will be fine. People in my part of the city know me. I’m afraid word spread quickly about my reason for coming here.”

  “I heard you and Micah talking. You guessed about this not being an accident.”

  “It wasn’t a difficult guess. Not with his injuries.” She had seen the result of igniting fire oil before. Too many times.

  “Micah and I are going to discuss that, and the other—accidents that have been happening lately.”

  He brushed one hand through his straight dark hair. Raine normally saw him with that thick hair in a queue, riding out of the castle, or standing on one of the parapets, talking to a guard. She didn’t want him to know that her mentor was just outside the castle gates; she enjoyed taking her breaks from study to watch the bustle of daily activities. She also enjoyed the anonymity she found at the top of the cliff, where merchants and people who served the castle had their shops, their homes.

  “I will leave you to your brother, milord. Please send word if you need my help for anything.”

  “Thank you, Raine.” He held out his hand, and she took it, his palm calloused from sword training. “And I plan to both thank Joseph for knowing about you, and curse him for not bringing you to our attention sooner.” The infectious smile that drew females of all ages to him flashed across the handsome face. “It will be a stimulating conversation.”

  “He does enjoy arguing, milord, if the conversations with my mistress are any indication.”

  Laughter burst out of him. “I will have to meet your mistress. What is her business, then? Joseph keeps his family close, never talking about them.”

  “She runs a tavern and inn, near dockside.” Raine couldn’t stop the smile this time. “Perhaps you’ve heard of The Black Arrow. I understand she’s well known for her hospitality—”

  “The Black Arrow?” His eyes widened. “Your mistress is the owner of the most successful gambling parlour in Palamar?”

  “I hope that doesn’t change your opinion of my skills, milord. Or my—”

  “Suitability? No. You’re a bonded servant, Raine. You hardly chose where you earn that bond out.” The smile returned, and he cupped her elbow, walking her toward one of the back exits of the castle. “It is going to be an exceptionally stimulating conversation.”

  Three

  Micah sat in one of the chairs facing the tall fireplace in his bedroom. He had his left arm in a sling, to keep his hand from throbbing, and to remind him not to use it. Kres was stretched out on a makeshift bed Micah created from a vivid blue velvet duvet, snoring softly.

  Liam sat in the second chair, cradling a mug of the strong, bitter brew he drank to keep him alert on late nights. “I know we owe it a debt, but you’re really planning to keep that creature?”

  “I asked him, and he’s agreed to stay.” Micah smiled, unable to resist. “His name is Kres.”

  Liam sputtered, nearly spitting dark liquid across the rug. “You named it after a king of the Shira? With your mother’s animosity?”

  “It suits him. He’s noble, arrogant, and more than a little full of himself.”

  As if the drake heard Micah, he snorted, and burrowed deeper into the velvet. Mother was going to kill him when she discovered the fussy cover from his bed had become filler for a drake’s bed. He hated it, and hoped Kres would do something destructive, like claw open a corner.

  Liam set the mug down and leaned forward, bracing his arms on the chair. He did not look happy. “Why didn’t you say anything about these other accidents before now?”

  “I didn’t connect them. You know how I get, Liam, when I’m in the middle of an experiment.”

  Nodding, he leaned back. “Tell me about this one.”

  “I was testing ways to toughen glass. I got the idea when I was watching the blacksmiths. It took me a week to make the glass ball, and,” Micah let out a shaky breath. He had time to realize just how close he came to dying. “Between last night and this morning, someone put a thin crack in the glass, adding a liquid to the crack that shouldn’t have been in my workshop. It guaranteed that the glass would explode as soon as the heat from my burner found it.”

  “What liquid? And was it there at one time?”

  Micah flinched. He never meant for anyone to know about this one. “I was experimenting with fire oil.”

  “Micah!” Liam stood, fear and anger fighting each other on his face. “Do you have any idea how—”

/>   “Volatile? Dangerous? Yes, and I took every precaution—until I realized no matter how careful I was, I had no control over it. Which is why I put it aside. I got rid of all my samples, Liam. I swear to you. I didn’t want that anywhere in the castle. I can’t explain how it ended up on my glass ball, or why someone would...” Micah’s voice faded as Liam sat, his face paling. “What? Liam, what is it?”

  “I received a note several weeks ago. Someone slipped it into Joseph’s correspondence. It was a warning—to let go of the Duchy, that the people no longer wanted to be led by a monarchy. If I didn’t cancel my ascension ceremony, the people close to me would suffer.”

  “Liam—”

  “I thought it was an empty threat, Micah. I receive more than my share of them. It’s part of being the heir to a duchy. Joseph and I both thought this was the same.”

  “When did you get the note?” Micah already knew the answer, but he asked anyway.

  “Three weeks ago.”

  Micah nodded. “Right before my first ‘accident’ happened.”

  “Damn it.” Liam started pacing, and ran one hand through his hair. His fingers pulled out the leather tie and he shoved it in his pocket, letting his hair fall loose around his shoulders. “I will not let mindless fanatics threaten my family.”

  “I appreciate your anger, but I don’t see how you can stop them, when you don’t know who they are. Unless you lock us up in the castle.” Micah was joking, but he didn’t like the gleam in Liam’s eyes. At all. “Liam—”

  “You can take an escort when you leave. Just until I find out who is behind this—”

  “I won’t—”

  “Or I could just lock you in a trunk again.”

  Micah stiffened as the breathless panic of that night shot through him. He took a shaky breath, then another, forcing it down.

  “I’m sorry, little brother. I guess I chose the wrong memory to poke at.”

  “Yes, you did.” Each breath relaxed him more, the panic receding to the dark corner of his mind. He could never quite get rid of the terror from that night, when Liam had tied him up and locked him in a trunk. It would have been fine, just another of his brother’s pranks—if Liam hadn’t fallen asleep, forgetting all about his five-year-old brother. “I can take care of myself—”

  “They tried to hurt you, Micah.” Liam crouched in front of him, took his hand. “This time, they tried to kill you.” Micah swallowed, staring past him. “I know how much you value your freedom, little brother. But for now, you’re going to have to get used to an escort if you decide to leave the castle grounds.”

  Micah closed his eyes, but he nodded. Liam was right; whoever was behind this had shown their hand. Next time, Micah—or someone not expecting an attack—may not be as fortunate. What he was going to do with the scarred, heavily armed guards while he roamed the city library might give him nightmares, but he would figure it out.

  He refused to let these shadow people dictate how he lived his life.

  Four

  “Raine!”

  Celia’s shout yanked Raine out of her daydream. She dropped the plate back into the soapy water and headed for the main room, wiping her hands on her apron. A loud crash had her shoving the swing door open, already running when she reached the bar.

  Celia stood between their resident gambler, Damian T’Alon, and—two of the Duke’s guard. Damian had his sword out, arguing in that deep, resonant voice.

  “I will be allowed to defend myself if I am threatened—”

  “They didn’t come here for you, you great dolt! They are with—”

  “Me.” Micah Brachon stepped forward. He looked much better, and horribly embarrassed by the commotion. “I came to see Raine, since I was close by. I didn’t expect my men to assault one of your patrons without a reason.” He raised his eyebrows at the guards.

  The tall blonde guard nearly sputtered in outrage. “This is not a patron! Milord.” He faced Micah, sword pressed to his side, but still ready for action. “He is a gambler, and a suspected Delta spy.”

  “Suspected,” Damian said. “I am shocked, to be pointed out like a common criminal by one of my own people.” He shifted, the blonde, beaded braids he always tied back to play cards swinging at his waist. “And gambling is perfectly legal inside establishments with a license. Which I believe Miss Celia has, given to her by your late duke.”

  Both guards snarled at him.

  “Enough.” Celia stalked over to the guard who had accused Damian. “Unless I called for you, I don’t need you waving your sword around, scaring my customers. And you,” she whirled, jabbing her finger in Damian’s chest. “Stop baiting them, or I’ll throw you out on your ear.”

  Since she threatened that pretty much every day, Damian smiled at her, and sheathed his sword. “I was merely defending myself, Miss Celia.”

  She snorted at him, then moved through the maze of round tables, stopping next to Micah. “Welcome to The Black Arrow, milord. I am glad to see you up and about. Raine told me of your accident, and she’ll be happy to take a look at your injuries. In the back room.”

  “Of course,” he said. “Thank you. Please forgive my men. They are—easily excitable, especially since I keep trying to ditch them.”

  Celia burst out laughing, and he smiled. “You are always welcome here, milord. Raine, come and take him into the back room, along with his itchy fingered escort.”

  Micah sighed, but nodded at the two guards. “Thomas, do what you feel you need to do. Xander can guard my back for the dangerous walk across the room.” The blonde guard, Thomas, reluctantly sheathed his sword, placing himself in front of Micah as they moved to Raine.

  “Raise your arms, miss. I will search you for any weapons.”

  Celia let out an indignant shriek. “What the—”

  “It’s all right, Celia.” Raine obeyed, blinking at the thorough search. They were taking the threats against Micah seriously. “If you’re satisfied, please follow me.”

  Thomas nodded, but the look in the green eyes that marked him as a Delta told her he was not happy. Raine stifled her sigh, and led them behind the bar, into the back room that served as a kitchen and a place to eat for the staff.

  Micah waited for her to sit, then waved the guards off. “You can watch me from the opposite end of the room.” They did not look happy, but they obeyed. “Thank heaven. I feel like a three-year-old. Now, Raine, if you can look at my hand,” he eased it out of the sling and laid his arm on his thigh, “we will pretend to talk about it in low voices, while I tell you why I have guard dogs tailing after me.”

  ~ ~ ~

  By the time Micah finished, dread clenched in her stomach.

  “My people tried something like this,” she said. “Decades before I was born. The results were widespread rioting. Families that had been part of the nobility for generations left the peninsula permanently.” She prepared fresh bandages for his palm, spending as much time as she dared checking the stitches. “That was when your people and my people collided. Violently.”

  “Why do you think it didn’t work?”

  She looked up at him. “You can’t be thinking—”

  “I read what was originally given to Liam. There are—aspects, that intrigue me. What?” He studied her, and she knew the horror she felt showed on her face. “I don’t mean a drastic, utter change. I believe that was what your leaders did wrong, why the backlash was so violent. There could be some viable ideas. But Liam will never listen, because they’re trying to force it on him. He’s stubborn that way.”

  “They’ve been threatening you!” Raine clapped one hand over her mouth. Micah waved the guards back. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Before I was—bonded, I lived with my mother’s people. They are still dealing with fallout from the attempt. Half-bloods are one of them.”

  Micah closed his hand over her wrist. “You’re not fallout, Raine.” He looked down at his hand, and let go of her, a blush edging his cheeks. “I wanted to let you know what was happenin
g, in case you tried to see me. There is—enhanced security at the castle right now. I’d hate for you to end up in a dungeon cell because one of my brother’s guards made a foolish decision.”

  He raised his voice when he said the last part, obviously meaning for the guards across the room to hear. The blonde Delta frowned, but stayed where he was. Raine guessed that Liam would get an earful when they returned to the castle.

  “You need to be careful,” she said. She picked up the bandage, started wrapping his hand. “If these people are anything like those who tried to change Shira rule, they will be fanatics, willing to go to any lengths.”

  “Thank you.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek. It was her turn to blush. She didn’t expect to be so drawn to him, but Micah turned out to be a surprise. Instead of a spoiled younger son, he was intelligent, inquisitive, and a puzzle she wished she could solve. But he wasn’t for her. Not now. Not ever. “I will be careful, I promise. And my guard dogs will chew the leg off anyone who tries to hurt me.”

  Her laughter brought out his beautiful smile. She tied off the bandage, and stood, aware that his guards were losing their patience.

  “Anyone can change the bandages from this point,” she said. “But I would prefer to remove the stitches, if that is allowed.”

  “I’ll make certain it is.” He stepped back and raised his voice. “I’m off to the library now. I plan to stay until my research is done.” He flashed that smile again at their muffled groans. “Do you mind if we take the back way out? I would like to avoid another confrontation with your local gambler.”

  Raine led them down the narrow hall, past her tiny room, and the surplus pantry. Micah let the guards leave ahead of him, their swords half out of their scabbards, scanning the cobblestone yard.

  Raine followed him out. “You can head down the alley to the left, and it will take you to the main road leading back into the city.”

  “Thank you again, Raine. For everything.”

  “Enjoy the library—and try not to torture them too much. They are following orders.”