WindSeeker (51 page)

the woman I loved at my side."

"If it is left up to me, you can take her wherever you like." Grice frowned. "But where is this place? You

make it sound as though it were some sort of prison."

"It is a place where, once you enter its gates, you may never exit. The keep becomes your entire world."

Grice stared at him, shocked by his words. "You’re talking about World’s End, aren’t you?"

Brelan nodded.

"The keep owned by Raphaella Chastayne? The sorceress they call the Windweaver?"

"I happened upon her outside the keep. A sorcerer intent on taking the keep away from her had lured

her out. Even if I hadn’t severed the top of him from the bottom of him, he wouldn’t have been able to

utilize World’s End without her."

Grice shuddered. "I have heard tales that she has slaughtered men who have tried to take that keep from

her."

"She has," Brelan acknowledged. "She has not one soldier, not one guard, not one weapon in her

possession, and yet she has held that keep from all intruders through her magic and the magic that is cast

within the walls of World’s End."

"I’ve heard it said that whoever rules the keep, rules the Seven Kingdoms."

Brelan smiled. "I suppose that’s true, in a way. The lady can cause great mischief when she sets her mind

to it."

Grice looked uneasy. "My mother was a friend of hers once. Something happened between them and

now they are no longer on speaking terms."

A strange look crossed Brelan’s face. "I thought…" He shrugged. "Never mind. It isn’t important."

"I take it this woman trusts you."

"As much as she will allow herself to trust any man."

"Are you lovers?"

Brelan’s look hardened. "Not anymore."

"But you were once?"

A fleeting look of pain passed over Saur’s handsome face. "Once we were even more than that."

"Who broke it off? You or her?"

"Me."

"And you think she would let you come there with another woman?"

He sighed. "She said I would one day come with the one woman I loved above all others. That woman

is Elizabeth Wynth."

"McGregor," Grice corrected.

Brelan snorted, dismissing the name.

"And the Windweaver?" Grice asked. "She would grant safety to the woman you take there?"

"I have no doubts concerning Raphaella’s loyalty and her word."

Grice shook his head. "Anya Elizabeth might be safe with you there, but World’s End is not the place my

mother would allow her to go."

"Only Raphaella, the Mistress of World’s End, can keep Conar from finding us, Grice. He has spies

everywhere and if what I suspect is true, he might well have certain powers of his own he can utilize."

Grice’s upper lip curled in scorn. "The only power he wields is over my sister’s heart!"

Brelan put his hand on his friend’s arm. "It is the only way, our only hope of getting her away from him."

The Oceania Crown Prince turned away. "Anya Elizabeth would be lost to us if I allowed you to take

her there. Is there nowhere else?"

Brelan laughed, a deep, hopeless chuckle. "Nowhere that he couldn’t follow. Only the Windweaver,

herself, will be able to hide us. It’s either Raphaella or allow him to take her back with him to Boreas."

Grice at him. "You shall have her one day, Brelan Saur. As sure as I know that storm is heading toward

us!" He glanced at the rolling darkness fast approaching. "As sure as that storm is breaking, she shall turn

to you for what she needs!"

Both Oceanian monarchs were surprised when their son-in-law asked permission to speak to them in

private before going to his wife. They had not expected the young man to go to his knees before them

and say what he had: "I have decided to leave Liza here. She is safer with you than she will ever be with

me."

The King and Queen looked at each another with wonder.

"Is that what you really want?" Shaz demanded, angered.

Conar raised his head. "It is not, Majesty. I want her with me, but I deserve no such good fortune. It is

my fault she has lost her child—"

"Your child, as well, Conar," Medea corrected.

The young man flinched. "A child I forced upon her; a child I tore from her."

Shaz leapt to his feet, his face red with fury. "If you are seeking pity, young sir, you have come to the

wrong man and woman! We feel no such pity for the guilt you are feeling!"

"Shaz," the Queen warned sternly, "sit yourself down."

A heavy red blush swept over the King’s face, but he sat, his lower lip thrust out in a dangerous pout. "I

detest men who go around feeling sorry for themselves!"

"I know, dear."

"He isn’t to blame!"

"No, dear."

"And he ought not to be doing it!"

"You are, as always, correct."

Shaz snapped his mouth shut. The woman wouldn’t argue with him. Ever. It was a burden he had to live

with.

"Anya will be returning with you to Serenia, Conar," the Queen informed her son-in-law. "Wherever you

go, she goes. That is her wish, and the wish we have for her."

"But Grice—"

"Has no say in what our daughter does or does not do," Medea replied.

"But there are other reasons why I should not be allowed to have her with me!" he protested.

"Such as?" The Queen’s tone was reasonable, sweet, encouraging.

"Are you looking for excuses not to take her back with you?" Shaz bellowed.

"Shaz." His wife’s tone held just a touch of chastisement.

Conar shook his head. "I only want you to know what I have done to bring about such destruction in

your daughter’s life. I want there to be honesty between us. I don’t want there to be any doubt in your

minds. If you know the truth of it—"

"Then tell us the truth of it, Conar," Medea said.

He told her about Gezelle. About the girl’s pregnancy. Medea did not tell him that she already knew.

She sensed his need to make amends. To unburden his heart. She gave him the forgiveness Gezelle could

not.

"Anya will understand, Conar," Medea whispered.

"Are you sure you trust me with her?" he asked. His eyes were haunted, filled with shame.

The Queen cupped his cheeks. "As sure as I am of the great love you bear her, my son."

Tears eased down his cheeks. "I killed our babe."

"You did not."

"How can you say that? If it had not been for my quarrel with Brelan…"

Medea shook her head. "Then he is as much to blame for her miscarriage as you are."

"How can you forgive me so easily? I don’t deserve to be let off so easily."

"And you won’t be," the King said from his place beside his wife. "You will blame yourself, punish

yourself, far worse than we ever could, Conar."

Medea gathered Conar to her, held him, feeling his body shake with sobs he was trying to stop. "Let it

go, son," she whispered. "Let it go."

His arms went around her with stunning force and he began to let the tears flow. A heavy, encouraging,

comforting hand fell on his shoulder.

"A love such as you have for our daughter can rise above anything, Conar," Shaz told him.

* * *

confessed to us was dangerous, Medea."

"Adultery is punished by flogging in Serenia. It matters not if the man is of royal lineage."

Shaz sighed. "Why did he tell us such a thing? Why give us such power over him?"

"Because as he said—he wants truth between us. He trusts us."

King Shaz Wynth gathered his wife to him. "I pray to the gods no one else hears of it. I would hate to

see him punished."

* * *

the door where the Oceanian monarchs stood, he had heard their entire conversation. Such knowledge

would be useful one day. He reached inside his tunic and put his fingers on the vial of tenerse in his breast

pocket. Three measures of the liquid in Conar’s morning ale should accomplish what would be needed.

The man’s mouth stretched into an evil leer. Come morning, Conar McGregor would be back to being

the way Kaileel wanted him to be!

* * *

hesitancy. The look on his face was one of rejection before he even placed knuckle to board. The rap

was tentative, unsure. She heard his wife’s soft voice bidding him enter, and she smiled as she watched

him draw back his shoulders, reach for the knob and open the door. His face was filled with love as he

gazed at his wife, sitting propped up in bed. She heard his soft words as though he were beside her.

"Are you well, Milady?" He had not taken one step into the room as yet.

"Aye, Milord." Liza opened her arms to him. "I will be exceptionally well as soon as my husband

embraces me."

She ran her hand over the still waters of the conjuring pool and swept away the scene of Conar and Liza

McGregor as they embraced. A frown marred the exquisite loveliness of her ivory complexion and her

eyes were dark green orbs of misery.

"Be careful, Anya Elizabeth," she warned. "Be careful of my prophecy, Daughter."

Coming slowly to her feet, Raphaella wrapped her arms around her and stared into the darkness of her

ancient keep.

The Storm was coming.

It was brewing in the far reaches of the galaxy. It would sweep the world as they knew it into chaos.

Nothing would ever be the same again.

The Windweaver lowered her head and wept. She could do nothing to prevent it from happening, could

not forestall the terrors ahead. The flesh would tear; the blood would spill.

"The lady and her warrior were reunited that day in Oceania," the Talespinner sighed. "Such love has

always been hard to kill."

"But it didn’t last," one of the older boys reminded them all gravely.

Wiping away a wistful tear from his fading cinnamon eyes, the Talespinner shook his head. "No, it didn’t

last, Nicky. The die had been cast from Tohre’s evil hand and all hell was about to break loose."

"Tell us about it, Grandfather," a little girl pleaded. "Finish the tale."

The old gypsy stood, swept the night darkness with a hopeless gaze, and drew in a long breath. "Are

you sure you want to hear the bad part, my children?"

"Those who forget their history," the eldest boy said, "are doomed to repeat it."

A hard shudder of revulsion and fear went through the old man. "Never again," he whispered. "Pray to

the gods, it never happens again."

"The warrior, Grandfather?" the little girl insisted. "Tell us what happened to the warrior and his lady!"

Teal du Mer stretched his aching bones and sat down again. He looked about at the children, marveled

at their innocent faces. Such innocence should never be corrupted again, he thought.

"All right," he sighed heavily. "This is the way of it—"

Charlotte Boyett-Compo

Charlotte Boyett-Compo is the author of more than two dozen novels, the first ten of which are the

WindLegends Saga. For nearly three full years, Charlee has remained—first with Dark Star Publications,

and now with Amber Quill Press—the company’s most popular and best-selling author. She is a member

of the Romance Writers of America, the HTML Writer’s Guild, and Beta Sigma Phi Sorority. Married

thirty-two years to her high school sweetheart, Tom, she is the mother of two grown sons, Pete and

Mike, and the proud grandmother of Preston Alexander and Victoria Ashlee. A native of Sarasota,

Florida, she grew up in Colquitt and Albany, Georgia, and now lives in the Midwest.

Most any fan of electronic books—or fans of dark fantasy and suspense—has at least heard her name

mentioned, if not purchased at least one of her many offerings. This prolific author has not only managed

to gain multiple nominations and awards for her work, but better still, has built a fan base whose

members border on the "fanatical."

Currently, Charlee is at work on at least several books in her various series and trilogies.

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