Authors: Charlotte Boyett-Compo
Did I ever? Conar thought with fondness, but he didn’t dare tell Balizar that.
“Come now,” Balizar pressed. “You have a look in your eye that says you did something that Hern wasn’t too pleased about.” He leaned forward. “Tell me!”
After a moment’s hesitation, he saw no reason not to. What he had remembered was certainly not incriminating.
“You gonna tell me or keep me guessing?”
Conar laughed. “It was when I was about four or five, I think. My mother was punishing me for something I’d done and wouldn’t allow me to go into town with her.” He ducked his head.
“I badgered Hern, though, and he talked to her, told her he’d watch me if she’d let me go along.”
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“Your mother was one of Hern’s women, then?” Balizar asked, his gaze intent on the young man’s face.
“No!” came the too-quick reply. He saw the look of interest on Balizar’s face and shook his head. “My mother worked at the keep.”
That wasn’t exactly a lie, Conar realized. His mother DID work at the keep. She did sewing, gardening, some writing.
“All right. We’ve established they were no more than friends, then,” Balizar said, but was damned sure it had been more than that. The young man’s face said as much.
“My mother warned Hern that I wasn’t to be given any special treatment when we went to town,” Conar said, wanting to put the thought of Hern and his mother out of Balizar’s mind, but he realized how that must have sounded and tried to cover it up. “You know: no treats or the like.”
“No toys,” Balizar laughed.
“Aye,” was the relieved reply.
“But you meant to make sure that wasn’t the case, eh?”
Conar grinned. “I waited until Mama was on the other side of the street, busy with a shopkeeper, and I ran to a candy seller’s stall and started pleading with Hern to buy me some chocolates.”
“You like chocolates, I take it?” At the young man’s quick nod, Balizar smiled. “So did Hern, as I remember. Did he buy them for you?”
“Are you kidding? He told me to shut my trap or he’d put me to peeling spuds when he got my ass back to the keep.” Conar chuckled, remembering the look Hern had given him and the intimidating words.
“Knock if off, Conar!” Hern had growled. “You know you ain’t gettin’ nothin’! Quit your pestering, boy!”
“But you got the chocolates anyway,” Balizar predicted.
“The hell I did!” Conar answered. His face was glowing as he remembered. “The more I asked for the chocolates, the more Hern told me no. People started looking at us, even my mother, who was not happy, I can tell you.”
“She bought you the chocolates to shut you up,” Balizar chuckled.
“She pretended like she didn’t know me.”
Balizar could see the little boy, probably jumping up and down, making a nuisance of himself, thinking he’d get what he wanted if he kept it up long enough. “What happened?”
“Hern bent down and grabbed my arm, shook me until my teeth rattled. He told me if I didn’t be quiet, he’d whip me.” He chuckled. “I knew better than that. So I just got louder and louder, yelling that I had never had candy before and just wanted to try it.”
“You didn’t!” Balizar gasped. “Hern must have been mortified.
“Hern was livid!” Conar answered. “It was while I was crying that I had never had no candy that he bent over and gave me the hardest swat he could.” That hit had been hard enough to shut him up and make him stare at the tall man with absolute terror even though the swat hadn’t hurt.
“He really spanked you?” Balizar asked, picturing his brother doing just that.
“Aye, he did. Just two hits, but it was so unlike Hern, I didn’t dare give him another reason to put his hand on my ass.”
“Did your mother approve?”
“I heard her tell the shopkeeper some children needed to be reminded of their stations in life.”
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“And you behaved after that,” Balizar chuckled.
“You better believe I did,” Conar answered. “Hern took me back to the coach and plopped my scrawny little butt inside, letting me know by that fierce scowl of his that I had best behave. He stayed there with me, edgy as hell for having to do so, until Mama had finished her shopping then he drove us back to the keep. He didn’t have two words to say to me all the rest of the week, but then on that next Saturday, when Mama was going back into town, he came to ask if I wanted to tag along. IF I could behave.”
“Hern was nothing if not putty with those he loved,” Balizar commented. “Did he love you, son?”
Conar looked away. “I think he cared for me.”
“Did he care for your mother?”
There was only a slight flinch before the young man answered. “I believe so.”
“Hern was a good man,” Balizar sighed. He ached to put his arm around his companion.
Conar met his gaze. “He was a gallant fighter, a champion to those he found worthy.”
Arbra nodded. “I know he was devoted to his King.”
“Aye,” Conar said quietly. “They were the best of friends. So much alike it was uncanny at times. It must have been the royal blood running through Hern’s veins.”
Balizar looked at him. “What do you mean?”
“Once when he was one of the King’s Elite? Well, actually the king was still a prince back then, Hern saved young Gerren’s life by taking a quarrel meant for the Prince. Did you not know that?” Balizar said he had not. “Hern almost died. It was the young prince’s blood that saved him, transfused into his body from the prince’s.”
Balizar whistled. “The young Prince must have cared as deeply for Hern as Hern did for him.”
“He did,” Conar answered. “Gerren said the transfusion had made them bloodbrothers.
Hern always joked about having my father’s blood--“
Balizar saw the young man’s face suddenly pale, his eyes go wide as he realized his mistake. He stared up at Balizar, the knowledge of his error stamped plainly on his fearful face.
There was a long moment of utter stillness in the tent as those alien sapphire orbs searched Balizar’s face for the depth of betrayal that might be lurking there.
“I did not hear you say that,” Balizar said, getting slowly to his feet. He let out a long breath. “I thought you well might be one of my nephews, Hern did have two sons.” Conar stared at him. “Aye,” Balizar assured him, nodding. “Reis and Calais, both as blond and fair-skinned as you.”
“How do you know that?” Conar questioned, stunned by the revelation, wondering why Hern had never mentioned he had sons.
“I don’t think the lady ever told him,” Balizar answered. “She left him before she started showing. She came here to me, had the boys one night, disappeared the next morning.” He looked away. “I haven’t seen them since nor heard anything of them.”
Conar’s brain was reeling with the information. It had overshadowed his stupid mistake in allowing Balizar to know who he really was.
“I would not have imagined in a million years you were one of the young Princes of my homeland,” Balizar said quietly.
Conar
flinched.
“Your secret is safe with me, Highness,” Balizar declared. “On Hern’s grave I swear it is!”
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“He is buried just outside Ciona,” Conar mumbled. “We brought him home from the Labyrinth to lay him to rest in Serenian soil.”
Balizar felt tears forming and he did not want to unman himself before the rightful heir to the Serenian throne. He ducked his head. “I’ll let you rest, Highness.” Before Conar could stop him, Hern’s brother hurried from the tent.
Conar sat perfectly still after the man had gone. He could hear him talking outside to someone, but he couldn’t hear the words. He didn’t think the man was betraying him, although he couldn’t be sure. Revealing what he had could very well have signed his death warrant or his future onto another auction block.
“Did you find out anything?” Asher asked, worried at the look on his leader’s face. When Balizar had come out of the tent, he was crying.
Balizar stared off into the distance. “More than I had any right to know.”
“Is he who you thought he was?” Rupine asked.
Balizar shook his head. “Not in a million years.” He swiped at a tear.
“Can he be trusted?” Asher asked.
Balizar slowly nodded. “Aye. He can.” He continued to stare across the miles of boundless sand. “More than any man alive.”
“Did he tell you his name?” Rupine asked.
“Khamsin,” Balizar told them without hesitation. “He is Khamsin.”
“That is his real name, then?” Asher demanded.
“Aye.”
And it was, Balizar thought. Khamsin. Conar. What difference did it make? The man inside the tent was the Prince of the Wind.
And he had been sent to help them.
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Conar looked up as the woman entered the tent. He clenched his jaw, glaring at her bent head as she avoided his gaze and went to a trunk to take out clothing. She did not speak to him, had not since his outburst earlier that morning although she had seemed to find plenty of reason to come into the tent during the day. This last appearance was the final straw.
“Either have me put in another tent or get your damned things out of here, woman. I’m tired of having to look at you,” he snapped, his eyes flaring as she turned to stare at him.
Rachel’s face flamed and she hastily looked away, straightening up with her brother’s djebella clutched tightly to her breast.
“I do not know what I have done to offend you, milord,” she said in a soft voice, “but I offer you my most humble apology.”
Conar squinted at her. “Your ass on the way out is the only apology I wish to see!”
She bowed her head. “I will not enter again without your permission.”
“
That
will never happen!” he ground out.
Balizar ducked under the tent flap, frowning at the heavy atmosphere inside as he glanced at Rachel’s embarrassed face and Conar’s set one. “Is something amiss?” he asked.
“I want her out of here,” Conar snapped.
Rachel met Balizar’s look for only a moment before hurrying away.
“Was that necessary, Highness?” Balizar asked.
“Don’t call me that,” Conar grumbled.
A scarlet infusion sped over Balizar’s face. “You’re right, of course. I forgot.” He came to stand by the bed. “How is your leg?”
“It hurts,” came the grudging reply. He cocked his head to the stool beside the bed. “Sit.
All the company I’ve had today is that woman and that is company I don’t wish to have.”
Balizar brought the stool over and sat down. “I have not told anyone who you are,” he said, watching as relief settled over the young man’s features. “I didn’t think you’d want me to do so.”
Conar looked hard at him. “There are those who would pay a great deal to know where I am.”
“You are as safe here as you would be if you were at Boreas.”
A snort of derision shot from Conar. “Boreas hasn’t always been all that safe for me, Balizar.”
“I suppose that is true,” Balizar agreed. He shrugged. “But you will come to no harm here.
That, I swear to you. I don’t know how you wound up with us, but I believe you were sent,” Balizar told him. “We can protect you, Lord Khamsin.”
“And in return?” Conar asked. “What do you want from me?”
Surprise flitted across Balizar’s face. “I don’t understand.”
Conar shrugged. “I’m in no condition to leave this place. With my leg broken, I am at your mercy. You could turn me over to my enemies at any time and I would not be able to stop you.”
Balizar scowled. “That is not our intent. Why would we allow your enemies to take you when we believe you are the answer to our prayers?”
It was Conar’s turn to be surprised. “How so?”
Balizar folded his arms over his chest. “We have enemies of our own, milord. Powerful enemies that hound us much as the Domination has hounded you all these years. If they were to WINDDECEIVER Charlotte Boyett-Compo 21
ever catch us, we wouldn’t even be given the charade of a trial as you were. We’d be snuffed out in the twinkling of an eye.”
A thick blond brow arched. “And what have you and your people done to warrant such annihilation?”
“What did you do to warrant having the flesh stripped from your back?” Balizar asked, wondering why he had not connected that ravaged sight to the exiled Prince of Serenia when he had first seen it.
Conar stared at him for a moment. “I fought my enemies.”
“Precisely,” Balizar agreed. “And that is what we’ve done.” He sat forward, unfolding his arms and bracing them on his thighs. “For hundreds of years there have been those who have fought the evil here just as our countrymen, yours and mine, have fought the Domination. The Brotherhood’s goal was to enslave all of mankind; the Rysalian’s have settled for just enslaving those who can bring a tidy profit to their overstuffed purses.”
“Slave trade is a lucrative enterprise,” Conar commented. The memory of him being forced to stand, naked and defenseless, before a crowd of gaping buyers turned his stomach. “It’s a way of life that should be abolished.”
“I agree,” Balizar said. “That is why I have spent most of my adult life in trying to help eradicate it.”
“A most admirable mission, Balizar,” Conar applauded him. “How did you come to be involved?”
“Hern and I were born in Jabol, Kensett,” Balizar admitted. “Our parents were slaves in the household of one of the wealthiest sheiks in Jabol, so we were slaves, as well.” His face turned stone-hard. “When Hern was twelve and I was seven, our mother was sold to a man who came to visit the sheik. He had seen her and thought her ‘worthy’ to grace his harem. Our father tried to keep them from taking her away. He died in the trying.”