The Lion of Senet (23 page)

Dirk could hardly believe what he was hearing. “
Friend?
He killed his wife
and
his baby son. And now you want to send me to live with him!”

“Try to understand, son,” Wallin said, almost pleading for his approval. “Antonov is not an evil man. The Lion of Senet did what he honestly believed he had to do to save Ranadon, and regardless of what your mother thinks about the morality of it, it worked. The Age of Light returned. He wept as he took his son’s life.”

“You still make excuses for him, don’t you?” Morna accused in disgust.

“Morna...” Wallin sighed.

“What of Analee?”

“Analee died by her own hand, my dear. I know you blame Antonov, but he never meant for her to die. He still grieves for her.”

“
Grieves
for her?” Morna jumped to her feet and turned to stare out the window. On this side of the castle, you could hear the surf far below as it crashed against the cliffs. “He defiles her memory with every breath he takes!”

Wallin shook his head sadly, but did not answer his wife. He looked at Morna’s unrelenting back for a moment, obviously at a loss. He could not comfort her or relieve her pain. There were too many unforgivable deeds between them. Dirk wondered for a moment how they had managed to make a life together. Maybe they had declared a truce for the sake of their children. Perhaps his mother had spent the last sixteen years trying to make up for what had happened.

Dirk felt deep sorrow for his mother, but he knew it must have been no easier on Wallin. His father was a moderate man caught between extremes. With Antonov on one side and his wife on the other, it must have been impossible.

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” Dirk asked his father.

“Because we hoped Rainan would be strong enough to defy the Lion of Senet,” Morna replied without turning to look at him.

“Until Antonov arrived,” Wallin added, “there was some hope you would never have to leave Elcast.”

“That’s why you didn’t object to me becoming Helgin’s apprentice, isn’t it?” he asked. “So I wouldn’t have to leave Elcast to study?”

Wallin nodded.

“There’s no chance of that now, is there?”

His father shook his head sadly. “I’m afraid not, son.” “Will I be allowed to come home at all? Even for a visit?”

“That will be up to Prince Antonov.”

“Then I’m a hostage, too.”

“No,” his father assured him. “You’re still my son and a grandson of the Prince of Damita. No harm will come to you. Your rank alone will see to that.”

“No
physical
harm,” his mother amended bitterly as she stared out over the turbulent water. Then she turned and looked pointedly at her husband. “But what of his soul, Wallin? Have you thought about that?”

Chapter 37

In the days that followed the Landfall Festival, Morna Provin watched with a feeling of helpless rage as Antonov Latanya quite deliberately set out to seduce her son.

The Lion of Senet showed no inclination to return to Senet anytime soon. He was too devious to tear Dirk away from everything he knew and loved without giving him a chance to grow accustomed to the idea. He was not interested in making an enemy of the boy. Antonov wanted Dirk to like him. He wanted Dirk to feel comfortable in his company. But most of all, he knew how much it upset Morna to see Dirk warming to him, and the weapons he had in his arsenal were considerable, not the least of which were his own sons, Misha and Kirshov.

Antonov suggested in passing that Misha was feeling rather lonely, and if it wasn’t too much trouble, would Dirk consider visiting him each day for a game of chess, perhaps? Her son had readily agreed. Although frequently bedridden, the Crippled Prince was a bright young man, and as nobody in the Keep had been willing to play chess with Dirk since he was seven years old, he jumped at the chance to pit his mind against a new opponent. Within days, the boys were firm friends. Misha even began to show signs of improvement, and was able to join them at dinner some evenings. Antonov warmly congratulated Dirk for his efforts, placing Misha’s improved health firmly at Dirk’s door.

Antonov’s second son was the spitting image of his father. But he had inherited much of his mother’s warmth and openness. There was so much of Analee in Kirshov that sometimes Morna couldn’t bear to look at the boy. And that was the danger of him. One couldn’t help but fall victim to his charms. There was a hard streak in him, though. Morna saw glimpses of it when he was annoyed or impatient. And he could be cruel, particularly to Alenor, but she suspected it stemmed more from thoughtlessness than any deliberate wish to hurt her feelings. Analee had been like that. With a careless word, a thoughtless, flippant comment, her older sister had been able to reduce Morna to tears.

Dirk wasn’t blind to what Antonov was trying to do. He was a very smart young man, and knew enough of the truth to be wary of the prince, but it never occurred to him to be wary of his sons. There was nothing Morna could do about it. Neither Misha nor Kirshov was aware that they were conspirators in Antonov’s game. The Lion of Senet was too subtle to involve them openly. He simply opened the door to friendship between the boys and let nature take its course.

The worst of it was watching Dirk and Alenor. He was quite besotted with the young princess, a fact that concerned Morna greatly. But just as she was powerless to stop the growing friendship between Dirk and the Latanya princes, she was equally powerless to do anything about Alenor. She couldn’t say anything. She couldn’t even hint to Dirk that his affection was misplaced. Dirk was supposed to be Wallin Provin’s son. She could not tell Dirk that Alenor was his first cousin, not the distant fourth cousin twice removed—or whatever it was— that the official records claimed.

Her vague concerns that somebody might notice the resemblance between Dirk and his real father had solidified into a solid lump of fear that never left her. She was certain Antonov knew the truth—except, if he did know that Dirk was Johan’s son, why was he trying so hard to befriend the boy?

She could not understand what Antonov was playing at. He acted as if he were here on Elcast for a holiday. He’d done nothing about Johan. He hadn’t been to see him, hadn’t ordered him moved, hadn’t tried to change the guard. He hadn’t even inquired about his recovery. His inaction was slowly driving her insane. The agony of waiting for something to happen was a particularly exquisite form of torture.

Morna studied her reflection in the mirror of her dressing table, noting fine lines around her eyes that hadn’t been there a few months ago; the gray that sprinkled her dark hair. Living with the uncertainty was destroying her. There were dark circles under her eyes, too. She’d barely slept a wink since Johan was captured. Morna dropped her head into her hands, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to undo her.

I can’t go on living like this.

“Is something wrong, my dear?”

She looked up with a start. Wallin had finished dressing. He was standing behind her, a look of concern on his weathered face. He was so much older and wiser than she was. It was only in the past few years that she had truly come to appreciate that.

“It would be a far shorter list if I chronicled what was right,” she replied, looking at him in the mirror.

“Things have been a bit ... awkward ... lately,” he agreed.

Morna smiled thinly. “You have a marvelous gift for understatement, Wallin.”

“Just as you have a gift for worrying too much.”

She turned on her stool to face him. “What am I supposed to do? Just sit here and watch Antonov try to steal my son?”

“Have you ever noticed that you always refer to Dirk as your son?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean Rees has always been
our
son. With Dirk you’re always saying
my
son. It’s a foolish slip of the tongue, Morna. You might give people the wrong idea.”

She studied him closely. After a long moment of strained silence, she looked away, unable to face him.

“You know,” she said tonelessly.

“I’ve always known, Morna.”

She was silent for a long time. Wallin looked at her, his expression giving her no hint of how he felt. Was he angry? Was he hurt?

“How did you find out?” she asked finally.

“You came to my bed the very first night you returned to Elcast. Do you remember that? I didn’t ask you. I was prepared to wait. In fact, I expected it to be months before you would be ready to become my wife again. And then little more than six months later you gave birth to an eight-pound baby boy.”

“You never said . . . never even hinted . . .”

“Nor would I have said anything, had things remained as they were.”

Morna lowered her eyes, guilt making it impossible to meet his gaze. “I never meant to deceive you, Wallin.”

He smiled regretfully. “Then why try to make me believe Dirk was mine?”

“I had to protect him,” she explained, as if it would somehow justify her deceit. “If anyone had guessed the truth...”

“You can’t protect him for much longer, my dear.”

“What are you saying?” she demanded. “You’re not going to? . . . Oh, Wallin, please! You can’t do that! Dirk doesn’t even suspect. It would destroy him! He loves you. You can’t...”

“I won’t expose him, Morna. Or you,” he assured her. “What I meant is that he has reached an age where your protection is more akin to shackles than armor. Dirk must learn to look out for himself.”

“That’s your advice?” she snapped. “Let Dirk learn to
look
out for himself
?”

“What’s your suggestion, Morna? Keep him hidden away here on Elcast for the rest of his life, safe under your watchful eye?”

“Well, it’s certainly a better idea than sending him to Avacas with the Lion of Senet!”

“You should have a little more faith in the Goddess, Morna.”

“The Goddess?
Antonov’s
Goddess? The Goddess who demands human sacrifices each year to appease her appetite? Don’t give me that nonsense about the Goddess, Wallin. Dirk doesn’t have a destiny and he hasn’t been touched by divine purpose. He’s a normal child who happens to be intelligent. There is nothing more to it.”

“He’s almost sixteen, Morna. He’s not a child anymore. And his mind is way beyond being just ‘intelligent.’ We’ve both known that since he was a toddler. It’s one of the reasons you fear for him. I remember the first time Dirk came to you with one of his impossible questions. He must have been only three or four at the time. I forget what it was that he asked. But I do remember you turned white as a sheet when you realized that he was questioning something no four-year-old should comprehend.”

Morna shook her head, as if by denying him she could somehow alter reality. “Dirk is too dangerous for Antonov, don’t you see? Antonov would destroy him if he learned the truth.”

Wallin placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I repeat what I said earlier, Morna. You worry too much. Dirk is my son. Legally and in any other way you care to mention. Antonov cannot prove otherwise. For Dirk to be a threat to Antonov he would have to know who fathered him
and
want the throne for himself. And he doesn’t know. He doesn’t even suspect the truth. It’s hardly likely to become a problem, is it?”

“But if Dirk knew... if someone told him...”

“Dirk has never even worried that he won’t become the Duke of Elcast. What makes you think that, even if he knew the truth, he’d want to be king?”

“But—”

“No. I’ll not have you tearing yourself apart over this, Morna. You are to stop dwelling on vague possibilities. If anything,
your
nervousness will betray Dirk.”

“You’re right,” she admitted. Then she looked up at him fearfully as another thought leapt to mind. “But what if Johan learns the truth? Suppose he realizes that Dirk is... he knew I was with child when I left...”

“There is nothing to be concerned about, Morna. He asked and Helgin told him you miscarried.”

She stared at him. “You told Helgin to say that?”

“I merely pointed out to him that everything would be a lot easier if Johan believed his child had not survived.”

“Helgin never said...”

“I instructed him not to.”

“Do you often do that? Instruct people behind my back?”

“Is it any worse than some of the things you have done?” he asked.

Morna looked away, unable to deny his accusation. Wallin took her hand gently and pulled her to her feet. She could not meet his eyes. As he embraced her, she felt guilty for feeling so safe in his arms. That he had known the truth all these years and never betrayed her made her feel unworthy of his affection.

“I’m so sorry, Wallin,” she said, her voice muffled by his broad shoulder. “I never meant to hurt you.”

“I know,” he told her gently. “But I know you never loved me. I knew it from the first time we met.”

Tears welled up in her eyes as she remembered that awful day. She leaned back in his arms. “I was so angry with my father.”

“Angry? Or disappointed?”

“What do you mean?”

“You were seventeen years old, Morna, and already in love with Johan Thorn. I was twice your age and a complete stranger.”

“When he told me he’d arranged a marriage, I was so sure it was Johan . . .” she acknowledged with an inelegant sniff, surprised that even after all this time, the shock and despair of that day was so easy to recall.

“Not an unreasonable expectation, under the circumstances,” he agreed. “Your sister was married to the Lion of Senet. I can understand why you thought that if Oscon could arrange for Analee to marry a king, he could do the same for you.”

“Yet you married me anyway? Knowing I didn’t love you?”

“I hoped you would learn to love me, Morna. An idle hope, as it turned out.”

“But I do love you, Wallin ...”

He shook his head sadly. “You are grateful to me, Morna. And in your own way, you probably have some affection for me. But you’ve never loved me. Not the way you loved him.”

She closed her eyes and let him hold her, resting her head on his shoulder. “And yet you still protect me. You took me back after I abandoned you. You pleaded with Antonov to spare my life. You accepted Johan’s son as your own and never once gave me, or Dirk, reason to suspect that you knew he wasn’t your son.” Morna lifted her head and smiled at him. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed the door was open. Odd, she had thought it closed. “I truly don’t deserve—”

Morna stopped abruptly, suddenly unable to speak. Wallin glanced at her curiously and then looked over his shoulder.

Dirk was standing at the door, his eyes wide. He stared at them silently for a moment and then fled.

“Dirk!” Wallin called after him, urgently.

“Oh Goddess!” Morna sobbed as her worst fears suddenly became real. “How long was he standing there?”

“Long enough,” Wallin suggested grimly.