WINDDREAMER (8 page)

"What are you thinking?" Conar drew a lazy circle on Liza's upper arm as it lay across his bare torso.

She nestled closer to his side. Her fingers smoothed the pelt of hair at the center of his chest. "About how happy I am right now. About how content...how peaceful..."

"How sated?" he teased, gently pinching her arm.

She giggled. "That, too."

"Shameless hussy." He kissed the top of her head, then threaded his fingers through hers and brought them to his lips.

"What were
you
thinking, Milord?"

He drew in a deep breath. "How sore I am."

Her laughter rang out in the shed. She playfully nipped his shoulder with her teeth. When Conar gathered her to him, Liza flexed her toes against his.

"Can I help it if I could not get enough of you?"

"It's your own fault if you're sore." She pulled out of his arms. "I was merely minding my own business and you took advantage of me."

He raised himself up on his elbow and planted a light kiss on her throat. Lifting a lock of her black hair, he drew it over her lips.

"Quit tickling me."

Conar smiled. "It wasn't my intention to tickle you, Madame, but rather to f--"

"I know your intent, Milord. You've made that perfectly clear since last eve."

He laughed and lay back down. Putting his hands under his head, he stared at the rafters. A faint beam of sunlight seeped through a hole in the roof and cast light on the floating specks of dust that whirled about the shack. He heard distant thunder and grimaced, hating the idea of another week of rain. "We'd better leave for Boreas soon."

"Legion won't be able to leave. You couldn't get a wagon through the ruts. How will we get him home?"

Conar frowned. "He'll have to stay until we can. I'll leave behind enough staff to take care of him, and send supplies until a wagon can make the journey from Boreas." He looked at her. "Besides, he needs time to think."

Liza lowered her head, mirroring Conar's guilt. They had spent much of the night speaking of what they had done to Legion until the subject--and they--had been exhausted. There would be no turning back, they had agreed, and Legion would have to learn to live with the situation.

For a long time they rested in silence. A light sheen of perspiration covered Conar's body where it touched hers, and he half-dozed in contentment.

"Conar?" she asked in a hesitant voice. "What will you do about Regan?"

"What made you think of him?"

"Raja."

He sat up, braced himself on both elbows, and stared at her. "And what made you think of her?"

"Did you enjoy her? Did she give you pleasure?" Red tinted her cheeks.

Conar's brow shot up. "If she did, I sure as hell wasn't aware of it."

"She gave you something?"

"I wouldn't have touched the bitch otherwise," came the clipped, angry reply.

"Did she not offer herself to you?"

"Many times."

"Then why did you not--"

"I didn't want her, Liza."

"And the other?"

"What other?" he asked, feeling shame over every woman he had bedded since returning to Serenia.

"The one who was killed in Chrystallus."

"Se Huan." A memory of her flitted across his mind like a will-o'-the-wisp. He smiled. "She slept with me, but I did not make love to her."

"Amber-lea?"

He frowned. Was she going to ask about all the women he'd screwed? He knew he deserved it; after all, on more than one occasion, he had brought up her lovers--Galen and Brelan and Legion. He shook his head. "I don't love her."

"Yet she is carrying your babe."

"She loves Brelan," Conar said, a hint of resentment in his voice.

"I know! What do you intend to do about her?"

"Take care of the babe if Bre doesn't marry her. But I believe he will when we get back to Boreas. He's as much as said so."

"And Regan?"

"I haven't given it much thought, but I believe it would be best if I sent him to Chrystallus. I don't trust him around Corbin. The boy has too much of Raja in him, for my tastes."

"He's a lonely child. I think he needs love and understanding. Perhaps you are right, though. If you send him to your Aunt Dyreil, she will see to it he is cared for, won't she?"

"Aye. And Wyn, Coron, and Dyllon can help her. Maybe all he needs is time to adjust to this way of life away from Tohre and his kind." He sighed. "Until this thing with the Domination is settled, I don't have time to give him or Corbin the attention they deserve."

"And no time to give to any other women?" she asked, searching his eyes for the answer.

"No, Milady. No time for anyone who would try to take your place."

"Could someone take my place, Milord?"

"You know better."

She rested her forehead on his shoulder. "I know they had better not try."

In the soft glow of sunlight, he grinned. Liza was as possessive of him as she had ever been, and it made him happy. He felt gratified and safe and at peace for the first time in a long while. Closing his eyes, he leaned his head against hers and fell asleep.

He took a deep breath, careful not to rouse the lady curled at his side. He heard again the sound that had nudged him awake, and listened intently, suddenly alert.

Easing Liza out of his arms, he rolled away. He came to his feet and reached for his dagger, clamped it between his teeth, then searched for his breeches. Finding them, he hastily drew them on, slipped on his boots, and stepped to the doorway. He was about to open the door when Liza stirred. Her mouth formed silent words of inquiry. He put a finger to his lips and silently commanded her to stay where she was.

"Conar?" came the call from outside.

He groaned. "I don't need this..."

Liza saw Conar go absolutely still, an unbelieving look on his face. He half-turned toward her, a blush on his high cheekbones.

"Who is it?" she whispered.

"Come out, Conar," issued the voice in stern command.

He sighed, opened the door and stepped over the threshold, closing the door behind him.

"So," came the voice, "what tragedy have you set into motion?"

Liza scrambled to draw on her gown, struggling with the buttons as she tried to fasten the back. She slipped into her shoes, padded softly to the window, and peered out.

She saw Conar, his head down, hands thrust into his pockets, standing before a lofty, distinguished-looking gentleman, speaking to him in such a low tone, she could not hear. The toe of Conar's right boot dug into the ground; he looked like a schoolboy being reprimanded by a headmaster. Occasionally he would lift his eyes to the man, wince with what could only be guilt, then look at the ground again. When the stranger laid a hand on his shoulder, he flinched as though about to be hit, and shook his head.

"What the hell is this?" Liza mumbled, not liking the way the tall man caused her beloved obvious humiliation and pain.

She jerked open the door and hastened toward them, wondering at the look of avid shame on Conar's face as he glanced at her. She swept her gaze upward to the handsome face of the older man.

"Queen Elizabeth," he greeted, sweeping her a courtly bow. "I have looked forward to meeting you."

Ignoring the man's words and look of friendliness, Liza turned to Conar. "Who is this person?"

"Ah, protective of her love, is she." The man began quoting a popular poet. "'That nary an arrow fly his way. With her own breast she does his agony take, and then send him merrily on his way.'" He gave a low chuckle. "Do you fight his battle for him, my Queen?"

Liza found something about the man offensive, despite his admirable clothing and elegant manner. "Who
are
you?"

When he lifted his hand, palm out to her in a gesture of peace, she gaped at the pentagram burned into his flesh.

"Like your beloved, I, too, once felt the fire of the Domination's wrath. Like him, I survived, much to Kaileel Tohre's dismay."

"You are Occultus," she said, understanding coming over her with his bemused smile.

He swept her another deep bow. "I am he." His dark gaze moved to Conar and filled with affection. "I was not shaming him in any way, Milady. Only reminding him of what is to come." Once more he put his hand on Conar's wide shoulder and squeezed. "I would not think to play his conscience for him."

Conar smiled hesitantly. "You don't need to reprimand to have me feel your disapproval."

Occultus shrugged. "Not disapproval, nor even disappointment. Simply exasperation with your single-minded stubbornness." He looked at Liza. "There was never a question of his reclaiming you, Milady. He knew that."

Liza cocked a brow. "Is that so?"

"It was only a matter of time." He smiled. "That he did not bide that time well is understandable. Such is his character flaw, I think."

"Quite." At Conar's look, Liza smiled sweetly. "He is like unto a mule at times, Master Occultus."

The man laughed. "Come, let us return to the stables. If my instincts are correct, we should leave this place soon, for rain is coming again." He put his arm around Conar's shoulder. "Tell me what you have planned."

In the shadows of the forest, behind the spreading branches of a fledging black walnut tree, Regan watched the trio leave the clearing before the potter's shed. His lip turned up in hatred for the tall man.

"He'll come sooner or later," Kaileel had warned before sending Regan to Boreas. "He'll not be able to stay away. But he is of no importance. I will see to that. Do what you must and make sure the tall one does not overly take note of you."

"I hate you," Regan snarled, switching his stare to his father's back. "And I hate you!"

Conar's words to the woman regarding his plans still sang in Regan's ears. He would die before being sent to that ice-cold country where Conar planned to exile him. He lifted his chin and narrowed his eyes.

If he could not be with his father, his father would be with no one!

Rain misted along the road leading to Boreas; occasional thunder rumbled in the distance. But for the most part, the journey home wasn't as bad as everyone had predicted. Occasionally they found the roadway washed out and a detour became necessary, but the bridges, although waterlogged, proved sound, and the horses made good headway in the muck and mud.

Stopping at noon near a farmhouse, Sentian and Marsh were sent to buy provisions for both the traveling party and those who remained at Ivor. Marsh would take the goods back to the stable at Epstein for Legion and the four servants left behind to care for him.

"The farm is fairly rich," Sentian informed Conar. "They were glad to provide food. I believe you know the owners." Sentian smiled and lowered his voice. "The lady says she is Wyn's aunt, Monique."

Conar remembered the woman, the sister of his eldest son's mother, Myra Luz. He looked across the clearing to where Liza sat with Occultus, their heads lowered as they spoke in quiet tones. When she glanced his way, he winked, she smiled, and Occultus reached out to regain her attention.

"He's quite taken with her," Chase remarked, carving himself a piece of roast turkey. "I actually heard him laugh a while ago."

A glimmer of jealousy entered Conar's mind, but quickly vanished. "He admires her talents."

"Who doesn't?" Duncan chuckled. "Don't glower at me, Conar. The woman's not bad to look upon."

After the meal, the group set off for the last ten miles to the keep. The mist had turned to a hard sprinkle. Though the riders huddled into what warmth their protective oilskin capes could offer, many sneezes and sniffles rang out as the party neared the redoubt of Boreas Keep.

"Regan?" Corbin looked back at his brother. "Is it true you're leaving when
The Ravenwind
sets sail in three days?"

"That's his plan." Regan looked hard at Conar's back. "But he doesn't always get what he wants, does he?"

Sentian turned a fierce look on the boy. "Aye, but he does. You'll be on that ship, mister."

Regan turned his face away from the warrior, hating the man almost as much as he did his own father. Inside, he seethed, loathing everyone around him. His narrowed gaze took in the pennants being hoisted above the battlements--Conar's, Legion's, the woman's. Even Corbin's personal standard soon fluttered beneath Conar's.

"No damned flag for me!" he spat, envy eating at his vitals with bitter acid. "I don't count."

"No, you don't," Sentian agreed. He dug his heels into the flanks of his roan and shot forward.

"Bastard," Regan whispered, tears filling his eyes. He looked up to the pennants, then cast his gaze to Corbin, waving gaily at civilian's paying homage to the royal family. When stares lit on him, though, heads turned to whisper in shushed tones.

"The witch's spawn," a woman said nastily as her glower bore into him. "His Grace had no choice but to take in the brat. His mother didn't want no part of him."

"Must be something wrong with the child," another answered.

That Regan could hear their words made no difference to them. His face, red with shame, apparently did not register as they pointed and laughed or shook their heads. They had no smiles for him as they had for Corbin. No waves, no cheers. Only speculation and wariness.

Trying desperately to show these people that he didn't care what they thought, Regan held his head a little higher and did not look down again at the people he passed.

Gezelle was waiting for the travelers at the keep's front entrance. Beside her, the King and Queen's children jumped up and down, waiting impatiently for their mother to dismount. They craned their necks, looking for their father. When Conar slid from his mount and lifted down their mother, five sets of little eyes widened in surprise.

"Where's Papa?" Kells, the youngest, asked Justin, the eldest of Legion's sons.

"Why is
he
holding Mama's hand like that?" Jarad hissed.

Cayn groaned behind her. "There's been a change, I think."

Gezelle looked around. Like her, those gathered along the covered passageways apparently did not miss the possessive way Conar helped the Queen from her mare. Nor did they miss the affectionate way in which she smiled at him. As the crowd watched the couple enter the keep after stopping to hug Gezelle and greet the children, they looked to one another with expressions of surprise.

At precisely four of the clock that rainy afternoon, the courtyard filled to overflowing with the curious and the worried. Huddling under every available overhang, most of the people shivered with cold, and more than one person remarked that it seemed reminiscent of that November morn long ago when they had waited to see their Princess Elizabeth McGregor for the first time.

An old man chuckled. "Do you remember how he had her come out in the veil? How pleased with himself he was? Should have known he was up to something, that lad. Always knew he was a mischief-maker! God love 'em. Hope they're back together."

That seemed the sentiment of most of the people waiting for Conar to come out on the balcony and speak to them. A few seemed hesitant to accept the situation, still worried about Tribunal law, even though the Tribunal had not existed in Boreas since Conar took charge the year before. And a few did not want such a thing to happen at all, their loyalty held expressly to Legion A'Lex.

When the balcony doors opened, the crowd instantly fell quiet.

"I won't keep you long," Conar said, mindful of the steady rain. "You have questions, and I hope to give you answers both of us can live with." He looked behind him and held out his hand. Liza stepped onto the balcony to join him. "This morning, King Legion signed a paper relinquishing all ties to this lady."

A shocked gasp ran through the crowd.

Conar waited until things quieted. "There can be no annulment under the old laws of the Tribunal, for neither this lady nor her husband has committed any act of treason or treachery."

Legion might disagree, Conar thought with some sadness.

"From this moment forward, your Queen has resumed her former title of Princess." Conar smiled. "You may ask how that can be, and I hope I can explain it where you will understand."

He clenched Liza's hand, took a deep breath, and hoped to the gods his explanation would satisfy those gathered.

"As you know, there is no provision under Boreal law that allows for divorce. The old laws were changed to suit the Domination, but those laws were not what the people wanted, so I have discarded them. Most of what the Priests of that hellish order did was to create laws that benefited them and not the people, so I believe nothing they did should be kept on the books. Do you?"

A general roar of denial thundered through the courtyard.

"But Tribunal laws were, for the most part, geared to protect and preserve our culture. Even though some of those laws--laws like the ones that sent me and many a good man to the Labyrinth--were aimed at keeping total control of our culture in the hands of the priesthood."

"Aye, Your Grace!" someone shouted. "But not no more!"

"No, never again will the priesthood rule this country." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "And never again will a sovereign sit on the throne of this palace to govern you by the old Tribunal laws."

Another gasp flowed through the courtyard. Heads turned; voices lifted in confusion. When quiet finally returned at Belvoir's roar of command, Conar could have heard a pin drop.

"I have spoken with my son, Corbin." Stunned looks crossed the faces of many who obviously did not know the identity of the boy's true father. "He and I have agreed that the monarchy in this land is finished as it was before. A government of the people, and for the people, shall be established. A commission of men and women will make the new laws, which will be voted on by those being governed. Such a democratic concept is alien to most of us, but it works well in Oceania where Prince Grice and Prince Chand have adopted such a system, and I believe it will work equally well here."

"Who's gonna make such laws, Lord Conar?" someone called.

"We will hold a free election in the next few weeks. Before then, I will expect each and every one of you to write down--or to tell your choice to one of the scribes we will make available to you--the man or woman you think is well suited to help form these laws. Your candidate must be someone who can read and write, who is fair-minded and ethical, who you believe will represent you fairly and equally under the law." His expression turned stern. "I will have no man or woman sit on the commission who is there for personal gain. And believe me, I will know. So make your choices well, my friends, for you will be the ones to reap that man or woman's harvest."

"What about you, Lord Conar?" a woman shouted. "We don't want no one but you!"

When other strident voices chimed in, Conar held up his hand. "I will be the arbitrator in final matters--a judge, if you will. Until the laws that will govern this land are enacted, and each and every one of us is pleased with the outcome, I will remain your Regent. When Prince Corbin is of age, he will assume the position of Prince of Serenia."

"We won't have no king?" an old man asked. "King Legion has been dethroned?"

"I am, with this document"--Conar held up a paper--"abolishing my brother Legion's Kingship of this sovereign land and declaring it a Principality." He waited until the uproar died down before resuming. "This, along with the divorce I have had prepared for the Princess Elizabeth, will be the last acts of this monarchy under my brother's rule. He has signed each article and will not challenge the divorce."

"Then the Princess ain't his lady no more?" a young man yelled, obvious disappointment on his beefy face.

"No," Conar said. "She's not."

"Is she yours, then, Lord Conar?"

He looked at the lovely woman at his side. "She is."

"And how can you do that?" a woman asked. "How do you justify taking her away from her lawful husband?"

A few angry mumbles echoed the woman's sharp words.

"I would not dare to change any laws that would harm my people. But since the Princess Elizabeth was forced into marriage with Galen McGregor in order to protect my son, Corbin, then forced to wed my brother, Legion, as ransom for our people's good conduct, I hereby invoke the laws of our ancestors and declare both marriages to have been invalid."

"Prince Corbin be your son?" a woman shouted.

"Conceived the night before I was jailed. My lady had no choice but to let the world think he was Galen's son, for fear the Tribunal would try to prevent him from being born. Galen knew the truth, and upheld the ruse for that very reason."

A mumble of understanding spilled from the crowd, but one irate man shouted over the noise. "That makes it all legal-like, don't it?"

"That is does!"

"But ye ain't married to Her Grace, neither!" a woman accused. "Your marriage to her was annulled 'cause of adultery, and now here you be with her again, all cozy. How do we take that, Lord Conar?"

In the back of the crowd, Duncan felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to stare into the face of an old friend.

"Shall we discuss this new turn of events?" the man asked.

"Aye." Duncan cast one final look at the balcony, where Conar and Liza stood side by side, their arms around each other.

Conar continued. "The lady and I are to be betrothed in a ceremony performed this eve by Father Barell, the High Priest of the WindWarrior Society. When her divorce banns have been read and the prescribed three-day wait is over, we will be rejoined according to the old laws. That will make it legal in the eyes of the gods and man."

"Not in
my
eyes," Duncan's friend mumbled.

Duncan turned away, shutting out the arguments coming from the crowd, Conar's explanations, and the cheers that finally erupted when the talking finished.

"He always get what he wants," Duncan sighed heavily.

"Not this time," his friend vowed. "Not this time..."