WindSeeker (31 page)

him like a drowning man, he held her so tightly her ribs ached. He fell asleep with his head on her breast,

his hand tangled in the black sweep of her ebony tresses. Tears speckled his long, tawny lashes and his

breathing was ragged even as he slept, giving rise to her suspicions that dreams tormented him.

"They will pay for all they have done to you, Beloved," she whispered as he groaned in sleep. "I swear

they will!"

* * *

His days were spent with Liza; the first part of his nights were spent in her arms, the second part in the

grip of nightmares so vivid he would awake with a body drenched in sweat, gasping, shivering. It was on

just such a night that Liza lit the lantern beside their bed and turned to face him.

"It is time we talked, Conar. You can’t go on like this night after night. You are making yourself ill." She

looked at his haunted eyes, the dark circles still there after a week of good food and rest. He had gained

no weight and his hair was not as shiny as it had been.

He was sitting bolt upright in bed, his head in his hands, his chest and face drenched with perspiration. "I

know," he said miserably through his fingers.

"Then talk to me. Tell me what it is that you dream." She knew better than to touch him when he was

like this, for her touch seemed only to hurt him more.

"I can’t remember them when I wake. I can’t remember any of them."

She knew he was lying. "Why not? I would understand."

"No, you wouldn’t. You couldn’t."

"Does it have something to do with what you told me happened to you as a boy?" When he flinched, she

knew she had touched on at least part of it. She ached to take him in her arms. When he bowed his

head, she wanted to scream. "Did they…did Tohre…were you hurt again in that way?"

He shook his head harder. "Not in that way." He ground his teeth, his lips pulled back in a grimace of

shame. "They were saving that for later."

"Then, what, Conar? What did they do to you?" She made the mistake of putting her hand on his

shoulder.

He jumped as though she had branded him with a hot iron. He threw back the covers, got up, and

stepped into his breeches.

"Where are you going?" she asked, coming to her knees on the mattress.

"For a walk. Stay here." He saw her go to get up. "I mean it, woman! Stay here!"

He hadn’t meant to shout. He could see the hurt on her confused face, but he had to get away from her.

Away from the thoughts running rampant through his fevered mind. He had to get the hell out of their

room before he did, or said, something he would regret. Slamming the door behind him, he gasped and

trembled from head to toe, his back pressed against the door.

Liza curled up in their bed and hugged his pillow to her. She inhaled, smelling his special cinnamon scent.

Her heart ached. Conar needed help, but she had no idea how to give it. There was only one other

person beside Kaileel Tohre who knew what had happened to Conar as a child, and she meant to speak

to him come morning.

* * *

Conar hadn’t seen his brother when he exited the house, or else he wouldn’t have entered the garden.

He needed no company, no companion save the brandy bottle. He took a healthy sip and wiped his

mouth on the back of his hand. "What are you doing out here so late?" he inquired, frowning at Legion,

who was leaning against the seagate.

Legion pushed away from the wrought-iron barrier. He deeply dug his hands into his pockets and came

toward Conar. "I could ask you the same thing if I had Liza in my bed, little brother." He had meant his

words to sound teasing, but they hadn’t come out that way. In the bright light of the full moon, he could

see Conar hadn’t taken them as they had been intended, either.

"She’s not likely to ever be in your bed, so there’s no need for you to worry about it!"

Legion’s brows shot upward. "A touch snotty tonight, are we?" When Conar took another long sip of

brandy, Legion sat on the fountain beside him. "Care to tell me what’s eating you?"

"Nothing."

Legion nodded as if in agreement. "You enter the garden every night about this time?"

"What I do is my business. I am not a child and I will not be questioned like one!"

"Then act like an adult and you’ll be treated like one."

"Get your ass back in the keep," Conar growled, standing.

"Are you spoiling for a fight? Is that it?" Legion politely inquired, more than willing to oblige, for he

wasn’t in the best of moods either.

"Is that your answer to everything?"

"When you’re in such a damned ornery mood, physical pain seems to be the only way to get, and keep,

your attention."

Conar’s voice was as cold as the ice on Mount Serenia. "That seems to be everyone’s answer to getting

my attention, doesn’t it?" His body quivered in rage. "Causing me physical hurt?"

"What
is
your problem, Conar?"

"My problems are my own."

"Well, you’ve got enough of them without having me as one of them," Legion challenged as he stood to

face his brother.

Conar wanted a fight so bad he could taste it. His hands itched to smash into A’Lex’s belligerent face.

He wanted to pummel the man into mush. He wanted to kill him.

"Go ahead," Legion told him as though he had read Conar’s mind. "Take your best shot."

He wanted to. By the gods, but he wanted to. But something stilled his hand. "Go to hell!" he shouted,

and stomped off, his spine rigid with anger.

"See you there!" Legion shouted back as the library door banged shut.

"There are just as many marks on his soul as there are on his flesh, Milady; and Kaileel Tohre put them

there, as well," Hern Arbra told Liza that next morning as he walked with her near the soldier’s

compound. He had been expecting her to eventually seek him out.

"He told me they raped him when he was child," she said quietly, and through the down sweep of her

lashes, saw Hern nod.

"I figured as much, although the lad has never told me so." He turned his worried face to her. "He did tell

me they beat him and that he gave in to what they wanted of him."

She plucked a leaf from the white oak spreading above them. "It must have been difficult for him to

admit that to you."

"Did they…did they do…that…to him this time?" Hern’s face filled with pain.

"He says not, but whatever they did, hurt him even more. I don’t know how I know that, but I do. He

says he feels unclean."

"It was a filthy place in that we found him, Milady."

"It is more than that. It is something they did that makes him feel that way. Some part of the ceremony

they performed, I’ve no doubt." She looked into the distance. "Did he ever tell you why he tried to kill

himself?"

"Aye, but if he hasn’t told you, he doesn’t want you to know."

Liza studied the man. "How can I help if I don’t know what troubles him, Hern? How I can take away

his hurt?"

Hern took her small hand in his gnarled, callused one. "Just be there for him, Milady. Be there when the

dreams come. Be there when he needs you. Sometimes a man needs to be held just like a small child. He

might not want to admit that, might not ask you to do it, but, in the back of his mind, he’s wanting you to

comfort him, to protect him. The lad is no different despite what he tries to hide. He has known more hurt

in his short lifetime than any ten men. He’s never asked for a woman’s help; he might not ask for yours.

But you can help most by simply loving him as I know you do." He up put his free hand to cup her chin.

"As he loves you."

Liza let out a ragged sigh. "He is my life, Hern."

"He would have given his life for you. He would have let them do anything to him to save you, Milady.

That’s a rare love; a love I never thought to see him have for anyone."

"His trust is so hard to gain."

"And yet you gained it with ease, Sweeting." He took hugged her. "There have been too many people in

the boy’s life who have hurt him." He eased her away. "But I know you never will." In a rare show of

love, he kissed her forehead, and smiled sadly.

Liza watched the Master-at-Arms walk away. He turned and waved, smiled his lopsided grin before

disappearing down the winding path to the combat training fields. She stood there a moment, and then

turned, gasping as she came face-to-face with her husband.

"Good morn, lady," he said.

"I thought you were out riding with Teal and Legion." Guilt stained her face red.

His gaze went to the pathway where Hern was no longer in view and then came back to her. "He can’t

tell you what you want to know, Liza."

"I’m not prying, Conar. I…"

"I know," he interrupted. He lightly gripped her hand as she placed her slim fingers in his. He began

walking past the compound, into the forest toward Lake Myria.

They walked for nearly a half-mile in silence. The air was turning cool from a coming rain. He removed

his brown leather jacket and draped it over her shawl-covered shoulders, his arm holding the warmth of

the garment in place. She wrapped her left arm around his waist and leaned against him, her head tilted

into the crook of his shoulder.

"Are you warm enough?" he finally asked.

"Aye." She bent down to pick up a pheasant quill, twirling it in her slender fingers. "What time did you

come to bed last eve?"

She hadn’t slept after he left. Not even when he returned, smelling of plum brandy, several hours later.

He had eased into bed, careful not to rouse her, and turned his face into the pillow. She heard him

sobbing, felt the bed trembling, but felt instinctively he did not want her to know.

Conar shrugged, pulling her closer. "Around four, I think."

She didn’t know what to say, how to open the talk she knew they must have. Her mind raced with

opening gambits of conversation, but he dropped his hand from her shoulders and stepped away. He sat

on a rock under a tall birch, spread his knees wide apart and motioned for her to join him. She sank to

the ground in front of him and leaned her head on his left leg.

"Conar—"

"I can feel it inside me, Anya Elizabeth."

She looked up, startled. Never once had he called her by her formal name. His face was drawn, uneasy.

He stared into space as though he could see something no one else ever had before.

"I can feel it growing inside me with every passing minute."

"What is it you feel?" Her heart wanted to break when he looked down at her.

"Long ago, you told me I would remember what happened to me at Norus. You said I would remember

it when it was time for me to remember; when it would matter to me." His hand stilled in her hair.

"You…you
understood
the power that was in me. You knew it was there even though I didn’t. Well, I

feel it. I know it’s there, now. I wish to the gods I had known it was there long before!"

She searched his unhappy face. "It always has been, my love. From the very beginning. It lay dormant

until the gods were sure you could handle it."

"No. It lay sleeping until Tohre and his masters awakened it, corrupted it. This thing…this filthy thing

inside me is evil, Liza." His face crinkled with shame. "It’s eating me alive!"

She came to her knees and cupped his face in her hands. "What you’re feeling is the power surging

through you. It’s giving you a new way to look at life. But what you’re feeling is natural."

"It is evil! I am repulsed by it!" he shouted, pulling his face from her grip. He threw back his head and

glared at the branches overhead. "It is taking over what I am. What I was. It…it…" He searched for the

right words. "It puts thoughts in my mind that shouldn’t be there. It’s trying to get free, to get out of me. It

wants to do evil and I’m not sure I can stop it!"

"The power is only as evil as the man who wields it, Milord, and you are not an evil man." Her eyes

pleaded with him to try to understand the nature of the precious gift with which he had been blessed, that

he could use that power for good, to help, to protect his people.

"You don’t understand!" Conar could hear her thoughts as clearly as though she had spoken.

"I understand you are frightened by the sheer volume of power inside you. I know it is hard for you to

see—"

"You don’t understand!" he repeated. He lowered his head. Disgust and loathing washed over his face,

turning it dark with rage. "It is no longer just this power I was born with. They raped that when they

raped me. They raped it. They mated with it. They violated me in my mind, Liza. They have taken away

what was good and filled me with some loathsome, wicked being who is incapable of being normal ever

again. Of being
clean,
ever again!" His eyes were tormented. "They raped my very soul. Don’t you see?"

"You are a good man, Conar McGregor! You always have been and always will be!" she shouted. "Evil

can not touch you unless you let it!"

"How do I stop it?" he screamed. His entire body shuddered with some nameless fear. He looked

desperately at her. "How do I stop it?"

She took him in her arms. "We stop it! Together, you and I. We stop it!"

But he wasn’t sure they could.

* * *

the man’s droning, officious voice.

"I am regretful that we can not help you, Majesty, but there is nothing we can do to him," the Premier