Van Laven Chronicles (8 page)

Vaush went to him, knelt next to him and held out her hand. “Let me have it.”

He hesitated a moment before surrendering the mender.

The cut reached around to the back of his arm, he lifted it slightly at her urging, his taut muscles flexing with the movement. Vaush steadied herself and focused on the task.

“There, now you just need a bandage.” She pulled one from the medical kit. He was staring at her when she placed it upon his arm and smoothed it against his flesh. She saw the emotion welling in his eyes. Her breath caught in her throat.

“I’m…sorry that you had to witness that back there. I allowed my anger to get the better of me.”

She found her voice. “Well…he did try to kill us. I’m not sure I can blame you for being so angry.”

“It wasn’t just that.” He looked away from her. “House Undersoll…it is my maternal house.”

“Your mother’s house?” she said, suddenly understanding his sense of betrayal. “Surely, you don’t think she—”

“No, the Queen herself is completely loyal to us,” he stated confidently. “But I cannot say the same for her relations.” He raked his fingers through his raven hair. “I must get word to my father. We’ll push hard and hopefully reach the coast by nightfall.”

CHAPTER 15

Duke Crausin Van Laven stood in the center of the room staring at the hologram of Vice Chancellor Dorian. The man had the classic Van Laven look, the fair skin, raven black hair and the brilliant green eyes. Though he was nearly ten years Crausin’s senior, the Duke would always remember him some thirty years ago standing in the corridor of Northridge Castle with Edred on their way to go riding. For it had been cousin Dorian who’d accompanied his father on the day of the horrific visitation by Champion’s ghost. Only now Crausin knew it was merely a sadistic prank orchestrated by his father, but he always wondered if cousin Dorian had played a part in it.

“Sire, per your wishes, I haven’t breathed a word concerning Prince Comron’s situation to the rest of the council,” Dorian said. “But they are demanding to know whether you will attend the Sector Banking Conference.”

Since the last report, Crausin had learned that Larrs’ daughter had been attacked by a panther and that the same panther had slugs in it fired by Comron’s weapon. Likely, Larrs’ daughter was the one who had administered aid to him and now they traveled together toward the shore. Though the idea galled him beyond measure, he could forgive Comron this under the extreme circumstances. Still news of his collaboration with a Ti-Larosian could never leave Patheis, not if Comron ever hoped to rule Nethic.

“Of course I will attend the conference,” he snapped as if it were preposterous to think otherwise. Everything hinged upon their attendance where they would make a formal bid for a seat on the board. That and their marriage alliance with House Eskridge would all but guarantee their position as one of the most powerful Houses of the Second Tier.

“Even if you don’t find your son today?” Dorian pressed.

“I will find Comron and we’ll both attend as scheduled. Now if there is nothing else.”

Dorian stared at Crausin in that irritating manner that he had. It was a mixture of concern and regret. In a word, pity.

“As a contingency plan,” Dorian persisted. “I could make arrangements to attend…in case of any eventuality, however unlikely.”

Crausin approached the Vice Chancellor’s hologram and spoke in a low menacing tone. “Haven’t you already done enough, cousin Dorian?”

Dorian’s eyes narrowed, but then the pitiful look returned.

Crausin would endure no more of it. “You will not attend the conference, now leave my sight, you rancid sack of shite!”

Dorian’s mouth dropped open just before his image vanished from the room.

Crausin inhaled deeply endeavoring to steel himself against the onslaught. He could already hear Edred’s voice taunting him, humiliating him, calling him by the pejorative “Lamb”.

“Go away, go away,” he said through gritted teeth.
Comron where are you?

You had to send him on this trip. You destroyed him just assuredly as you killed your mother and me. You destroy all that is good in your life.

“No!” He raked his fingers through his hair and clutched some nearly ripping it from his scalp to shut out the voices. “You’re dead, go away.”

Remember Meglyn? Good lord, what you did to that poor girl. You’ll burn for that. You will burn for all the misery you’ve caused.

Crausin fell to his knees and clamped his hands over his ears, trying to drown out Edred’s voice. “Please, no. Not her, not again. Please…” He slumped over as the room spun around him. He was slipping again, uncontrollably and there was no one to fend off Edred’s attack…all faded to black and then –

The flaxen haired woman draped across Duke Edred’s arm smiled sweetly and spoke in hushed tones. Her shimmering gown swayed softly with the lithe movement of her hips. Seventeen-year old Prince Crausin Van Laven followed a few paces behind the two down the dimly-lit corridor. He walked with shoulders hunched and eyes lowered to avoid the curious stares of passersby. The air was thick with the scent of jasmine and exotic spices, reminding the prince of the many women who had frequented Northridge Castle as guests of his father the Duke. He could hear the sounds of music and merry-making emanating from behind the closed doors, an occasional sound of pleasure broke forth. He had been brought here for one purpose alone.

“You are seventeen today,” his father had said earlier that morning. “It is high time that you pulled your nose out of those books and start learning your way around a woman. Consider it your birthday gift.”

The flaxen haired woman giggled at something the Duke had said. “You should be ashamed of yourself for saying such things, Your Grace,” she cooed.

With his mother deceased ten years now, Crausin had no one to argue compassion on his behalf, not that Cristalla would have taken up his cause. Why would she when she preferred death to being his mother? Ten years had passed but his heart still wrenched at the thought.

Please, no melancholy thoughts of her, not on your birthday
, said Comron.

“Where have you been?” Crausin whispered fiercely.

What does it matter? I’m here now, aren’t I?

Crausin’s clenched his jaw.

Oh, stop looking so severe. You’ll scare off the girls and ruin everything.

“This place is perverse and obscene, I would save myself for my future wife, but he’s forcing me to this,” Crausin said, glancing at his father then back to Comron. “Why are you grinning? Angels have no interest in such carnal vices.”

Comron chuckled.
I never told you that I was an angel, at least not the sort that you would find in one of the scrolls you’re always
poring over.
Comron gave him a sly grin.
I am the sort that feels whatever you feel. When you touch them, I will be touching them. When you lay with them, I will be laying with them and when you finally enter them, I will—

“Stop it!” Crausin snapped, garnering a vicious glare from his father and a curious look from the woman. As usual, no one could see the Comron of his mind and would simply think Crausin mad. “I’m sorry…,” he said staring back at them. He’d learned long ago to make up excuses for such outburst. “It still troubles me to see my father with anyone other than my mother.”

Duke Edred shook his head sharply, warning Crausin that he had no patience for any foolishness tonight.

“Oh,” said the woman before returning her attention to the Duke. They continued on their way.

You see, if I stay I will only cause you more trouble,
said Comron.
They can’t see me, they don’t understand.

Crausin’s eyes pleaded for Comron to remain.

No, Crausin. You must simply trust that I am with you, as always.
He lingered a few seconds longer before fading away.

The party reached their assigned suite, the Emperor’s Chamber. Crausin entered behind his father, keeping his eyes to the floor until the flaxen haired woman bid them farewell and excused herself. Duke Edred had already moved forward, warmly greeting the cadre of enticing young women awaiting them, calling each of them by name. The prince shrunk back, hoping to go unnoticed as he had in the past when his father dragged him to such events.

Crausin closed his eyes attempting to summon Comron to no avail. He opened them upon hearing the chorus of laughter being directed at him. Mortified, he went for the door only to find it locked soundly. One of the girls held up the key mockingly before dropping it down her blouse between her breasts.

They spoke of him as if he were not there, laughing and making sport of his discomfort. When one dark haired beauty with large almond shaped eyes sauntered over to him, he grew afraid that he would knock something over from his trembling. She stood before him smiling disarmingly and moving to the music playing in her head. She drew closer, until her breast brushed against him. Unsure of how to respond to her overtures, he simply stood there as she pushed him back against the wall. All the while, Edred and the party made merry, shouting words of encouragement and instructions as to what he should do in response.

He looked down at the girl, his large green eyes searched hers for some sympathy, some sign of understanding.

“Please,” he whispered to her, “I-I’ve only read about…I don’t really know what to do.”

To his horror, she turned to the others, her mouth wide with bawdy laughter. “The prince-son doesn’t know what to do. Are you certain he is of your loins, Sire?” she inquired of Edred.

Crausin’s face drained of color and his palms grew sweaty. He thought of tearing through the place, pulling down the candles to set the room ablaze. But the dark-haired girl was upon him once again.

“I assure you, Your Grace,” she said, as her hands slid down to his waist, “that you will not leave here tonight without knowing precisely what to do.”

She unfastened his belt and worked the closure of his pants, slipping them down from his hips until they dropped to the floor. Her eyes fixed upon the finely chiseled features of the prince’s face, his wide set eyes, high cheek bones, slender nose and full lips. She smiled as her hand crept into his underpants, touching him in ways that slowly caused his anger and frustration to melt away.

She deftly worked him to full arousal, her eyes widening appreciatively at the look and size of it. She turned to their audience, taking a bow as she waved her hand toward the evidence of her endeavors.

Edred laughed heartily. “It seems the boy has inherited something of me after all.”

Crausin was too traumatized by the public humiliation to properly cover himself with his shirt.

“What a beauty it is! And he’s got a handsome face too,” the golden haired girl said as she crept toward the edge of the bed.

“T’would be a grievous shame to waste all of that, y’Grace!” said another girl with short ginger hair. “Poor cub, doesn’t know what to do with it.”

“About damn time he learned,” Edred said, turning to the buxom, red-headed girl called Meglyn. “Let’s give him a good show, shall we?”

“As you wish, Sire. But when we’re through, may I have the honor of deflowering the cub?” She asked as she slid her milky white legs around Edred’s waist.

“Be my guest,” he answered to the objections of the other girls. “Oh, quiet down. You will all have your turn unless you wear the boy out.” Duke Edred’s words were met with expressions of delight as their eyes gazed hungrily upon his son.

With no other choice, Crausin watched as the Duke provided visual instruction as to how a man satisfied himself upon a woman. As Edred thrust and twisted rhythmically between Meg’s sinuous legs, Crausin tried to turn away in disgust but found that he could not tear his eyes from the undulating, hypnotic movement of their bodies. Soon his own blood was rushing forth filling his member till it ached and his heart pounded loudly in his ears.

When it was over, Edred climbed out of the bed and donned a robe before beckoning Crausin to come forward and have a go at Meglyn. When Crausin hesitated, the dark-haired girl took him by the hand and drew him to the bed.

“Come, darling,” Meglyn said, holding her hand out to him, her skin still pink from Edred’s exertions. “Look at you, so beautiful, you are. How sweetly you blush.”

Crausin looked into her lively green eyes and at her rose colored lips, and then at the way her red hair fell about her shoulders. Suddenly his eyes grew large at the realization - Meg was the very image of Cristalla, his deceased mother! Was this some perverse joke that Edred intended to play on him? How did he imagine that Crausin could lay down with her? Horrified and repulsed by the prospect, he turned to run away but Edred was quick snatching him up.

“Damn you! For once in your life, act like a man.” he commanded, shoving him down upon Meg. “Just take her!”

“A different girl, please.” Crausin begged as he tried to get up. “Not her!”

Edred’s hand flew hard across the side of his head, knocking him back down. “Do it now or I swear I’ll cut it off! I swear it!”

Crausin’s ear rang from the blow and the familiar taste of blood filled his mouth. But he knew that this was nothing compared to what the Duke would do if he failed to obey his command.

Meg gazed at Crausin, her eyes were softer now and her smile sympathetic as if she didn’t feel the collective stare of all upon them.

You must know how greatly you resemble my mother, Crausin thought, you are just as cruel as he is.

The prince pushed Meg down and moved over her, determined to unleash seventeen years’ worth of his anger and degradation upon her. He refused to accept any affection that she attempted to offer in exchange for his innocence. Fueled by rage toward his father, anger toward his mother and resentment at the demands placed upon his life, he drove into Meg, repeating the act that he had witnessed Edred perform. He hated Edred for humiliating him this way. He hated Meg for looking so much like his mother. He hated Cristalla for abandoning him as a child when he had needed her most. And most of all, he hated his own body for betraying him by taking pleasure in the obscene act. He prayed that the whole place would burn down around them, bringing his hellish existence to an end. But as pleasure mounted, crowding out all other thought, it pleased him immeasurably that this time Cristalla could not elude his touch, that this time she would stay for as long as he needed her, until he was satisfied. To his shame, this thought quickly carried him to the most sublime release.