Hostage (12 page)

“When you were brought here, my uncle had me take care of you. He wanted me to understand you’re a human being like me, not the monster I’d created in my mind. He hoped that, in seeing you helpless, I would develop empathy for you. But it didn’t work. My hatred was so deep that I couldn’t get past it. I still hated you, and then I resented you too. I resented every moment I had to spend with you.” Rowan swallowed hard, unable to meet Astrin’s eyes. Getting to his feet, he wandered over to one of the huge, ornate windows and gazed out into the garden, where everything was peaceful.

“My uncle is not a fool. He has spoken to me many times of the need for a cordial relationship between us if there’s to be any hope of a lasting peace, but I was too stupid and too pigheaded to listen. I was so consumed with my own self-pity and self-righteous anger that there was no room for reason.

“When he finally accepted that nothing he said would break through the shell of anger I’d built around myself, he had Ragnor make it so we could spend time together talking—so I could get to know you. Ragnor had to take away your memories so you wouldn’t run away.”

Rowan flinched and dropped his head. Biting his lip, he pressed on. “On the first day, I was a complete bastard to you. I told you everyone hated you because you’d done a bad thing. I let you fall. I frightened you and made you ill—and I’m utterly ashamed of that. Then, somewhere in the middle of it all, I started to like you.

“But you were asking too many questions. You were seeing too much, understanding too much, so Ragnor had to do whatever he did to you again. I didn’t want him to, and he didn’t want to, but my uncle had left orders. I don’t think he understood what was necessary. No one meant to hurt you.”

“It was all because of you? The pain, the confusion, the sickness? All because you hated me so much?”

Rowan raised his head and straightened his back. “Yes.”

“And now? Do you hate me now?”

Meeting Astrin’s eyes, Rowan took a deep breath. “No. I don’t hate you now. Not even close. Yesterday and today I saw you at your lowest. I saw you cry and fall, and I saw the pain and confusion in your eyes.” Rowan paused as Astrin winced. He took a few steps forward but stopped well short of the table. “I also saw that, whatever happened to you, however bad, it didn’t,
couldn’t
break your spirit. I saw that you’re a good person and stronger than I am. I resisted it, I admit, but I couldn’t help respecting you, and I came to like you.

“I don’t expect you to believe me. And I don’t expect you to like me, but—I’m begging you—please don’t doom our people to this endless war just because I’m a fool.”

Astrin looked at him levelly. He made sure no one could tell, from his motionless body and cool eyes, about the war that was raging within. Truth be told, Astrin was frightened. He was tired, dizzy, in pain both emotionally and physically, confused, and had no memory of any of the things they were talking about. All he knew was what he’d heard and seen that day and what he’d pieced together from them.

He knew his father was in danger and his mother was grieving. He knew he was a prince, the weight of the crown now resting on his head. He knew the countries were at war although his father had been working toward peace. He knew war was bad. Ultimately it was the people and the kingdom who suffered. He knew if he wanted to, he could get away from these people and run, but he also knew he would not get far. His mind was clouding again, and he could not afford to discuss or make decisions on such important matters in this condition.

“I don’t trust you. I don’t believe you, and I don’t want to be here with you. But I can’t deny I’m getting very tired. I’m certain I could get away from here if I wanted, but I have no idea where to go. Besides, it would take too much time to get home. Therefore, if you give me your word of honor that you will give me safe passage tomorrow, I will stay tonight, and when I get home I will look at what my father was doing with an open mind.”

“You have my word,” Rowan said gravely, “that you will be returned home safe and unharmed tomorrow.” They both nodded. Then Rowan grinned. “But there’s no way you’d get away from here. None at all.”

Astrin smiled gently. Ignoring Rowan he turned to Ragnor, dismissing a flash of purposeless anger, and held out his arm. “Take this away… now,” he said in a soft but commanding voice.

“It would be better if you came back to the infirmary.”

“I’m not going near that place again. Do it here… now.”

Ragnor opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again with a snap. Taking Astrin’s arm gently but firmly in his fingers, he drew back the sleeve and removed the tube. Astrin stifled a wince.
Damn, that hurt.

“You really should come back to the infirmary. I need to clean it properly and put a dressing on to stop it bleeding. It could—”

Snatching back his arm, Astrin shook his head. He looked at Ragnor coldly for a few moments, and then suddenly Astrin wasn’t there anymore.

Rowan took a step back in shock while Melissa cried out and pushed her chair back, away from where Astrin had been. Ragnor didn’t move.

“Are you still so sure I couldn’t get away if I wanted to?” a voice whispered in Rowan’s ear as his own knife was pressed to his throat.

Rowan reacted instantly. He twisted sharply, sweeping his foot and punching with his hand, only to meet thin air. A tap on his shoulder had Rowan spinning, but by the time he had turned, Astrin was gone again.

The cat-and-mouse tag continued for a few minutes until Rowan,
panting, called out. “All right, you’ve made your point. I acknowledge you could have got away more easily than I have been able to lay a hand on you. I bow to your awesome skill and know exactly what Ragnor was talking about when he kept dropping dire hints about why we had to drug you. You’re awesome, okay? Now please stand still because you’re making me dizzy.”

“Not as dizzy as I am,” Astrin said from behind him, and Rowan spun around just in time to catch Astrin as he passed out cold.

“D
AMN
!”

“Quite so,” Ragnor said mildly, raising a brow.

“What is he?”

“Very proficient in his family’s personal skills and techniques.”

“You knew he could do that?”

“I did, as did your uncle. Do you really think we would have kept a young boy unconscious for three months—and taken the drastic steps we have these last two days, just to allow him a few hours of something resembling consciousness—without a very good reason?”

“Um… I suppose I didn’t think.”

“I suppose that might be part of the problem, Rowan.”

“So can he dematerialize, become invisible, or—”

“He can just move very, very fast.”

“You can say that again.”

“Could you please continue this discussion somewhere and somewhen else?” Melissa broke in, her voice incredulous and annoyed. “I don’t know whether either of you have noticed, but the poor boy is unconscious. After everything you’ve done to him, I’d have thought his health and welfare might have had higher priority than his fighting skill.”

“You’re right, of course,” Ragnor said in his usual dry way. “I’ll have him taken back to the infirmary.”

“No,” Rowan said thoughtfully. “That wouldn’t be a good idea. You heard his views on the subject. Take him to my room. I’ll sleep on the couch and keep an eye on him.”

“Are you sure? I could have one of the guest rooms warmed.”

“I would rather keep him close tonight, for many reasons… unless you think, Ragnor, that his life would be in danger.”

Ragnor gave Rowan a tight look, then shook his head. “I would much prefer to have him under my eye in the infirmary tonight. There are many things that might go wrong, but I don’t think his life is in danger, and good, natural sleep will be as beneficial to his health as anything else. Just be vigilant and call me if you are concerned.

“Good. I’ll go up with him. Melissa, will you make the arrangements for transport to the Heart of the West tomorrow?”

“Of course I will.”

B
OTH
R
AGNOR
and Melissa watched thoughtfully as Rowan followed one of the palace guards, carefully carrying Astrin in his arms.

“I sense something I can’t quite put my finger on,” Melissa pondered.

“Their destinies are linked for sure, but that is hardly surprising given their respective positions.”

“It’s more than that. I have a very uneasy feeling something is going to happen that will bind them together far more tightly than their positions ever could. It will happen very soon, and it is not going to be something good.”

Ragnor turned to her. “Have you received a message?”

“Not as such but… I think I shall not bother to make the arrangements for travel tomorrow.”

“Why not?”

“Astrin will not be going home.”

R
OWAN
TRIED
to settle on the sofa in his room, but it just wasn’t happening. There was too much going on in his head. He’d lurched from shock to shock recently and had to admit, with some degree of guilt, that what had happened with Astrin eclipsed the news about his uncle.

But now that news returned to haunt him. He became angrier and angrier that anyone would have capitalized on his pain and anger to restart a war his uncle had fought so long to end.

There were conventions with regard to the taking of hostages. They had followed them with Astrin—mostly. But House Michael did not have a good reputation for treating its prisoners well. House Michael was all about strength and intimidation.

Rowan tossed and turned for a while, but in the end he had to get up. Pulling the curtains from the window, he flooded the room with moonlight and stared out over the gardens, thinking about the kingdom beyond. He was fairly certain he could persuade Astrin to keep the peace, but then what? With his uncle and King Hersten in their hands, it wouldn’t be long before House Michael started making demands.

With a sigh Rowan turned away from the window, and his eyes caught a flash of pale gold from the bed, where the bright moonlight danced off Astrin’s hair. Drawn almost against his will, he drifted over to the side of the bed and looked down.

How could he ever have hated him? Rowan smiled despite himself, then noticed that Astrin’s sleeve and the bed beneath it were soaked with blood. Uttering a soft curse, he went in search of his first aid kit. He’d mocked Ragnor when he’d insisted on having one in his room, but Ragnor had insisted. Ragnor had said he’d thank him one day… and this was the day.

Climbing up onto the bed, Rowan couldn’t see a way of taking Astrin’s arm out of his shirt without disturbing him, and Astrin was sleeping so peacefully, Rowan didn’t want to do that, so he used the scissors in the kit to cut the sleeve.

As gently as he could, trying not to wake Astrin, he bathed the wound and cleaned the arm with antiseptic solution, then taped on a sterile dressing. There wasn’t much he could do about the bedclothes or shirt without waking Astrin, so when he was done, he left them as they were and returned the box to the bathroom, disposing of the soiled pads in the bin. The cleaning staff was going to get a bit of a shock in the morning.

When he went back into the bedroom, he wandered toward the window. A soft “Thank you” startled the hell out of him.

“I thought you were asleep.”

“I was.”

Astrin sat up and shrugged out of the remains of his shirt. The moonlight made his pale skin look as though it was shining softly. Rowan realized he was staring but couldn’t do anything about it. It was as if Astrin were mesmerizing him, stealing his will.

“Are you all right?” Astrin asked, frowning.

“What? Sorry?”

“You look weird. Are you all right? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Rowan laughed shortly at the irony. If he’d made that remark it would have been dripping with sarcasm, but Astrin seemed genuinely concerned. “No, you didn’t hurt me.”

“Good.” Astrin nodded and lay down again with a tired sigh.

“As you’re awake already, why not get rid of that coverlet? You’ve got blood all over it, and it isn’t going to be nice to sleep on.”

Astrin gazed at him, then slipped out of bed and pulled off the soiled bed covering, letting it pool at his feet, the gray silk catching the moonlight darkly.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was bleeding that much.”

“It didn’t help that you went rushing around like an idiot.”

“I don’t think I was the one who looked like an idiot.”

Rowan bristled, then realized it had been said in humor, and allowed himself to smile. “You have a point.”

Rowan was shocked when, naturally and unashamedly, Astrin undid his belt and allowed the rest of his clothing to fall to the floor before slipping, naked, between the sheets. Rowan was presented with the full glory of his long, lean body, stretching and arching his back to ease tense, cramped muscles.
What the fuck?
he thought.
Did he do that on purpose?

Rowan sank down on the sofa and tried to make himself comfortable.

“You can sleep here if you want. It is your bed, after all.”

“No, it’s fine. It wouldn’t be fair to ask you to sleep on the sofa.”

“I wasn’t intending to.”

Astrin’s voice was perfectly even and sounded unconcerned. Rowan, on the other hand, was shocked. Was he suggesting what he seemed to be suggesting?

“You want me to sleep with you?”

“Want? No. But I don’t mind sharing the bed.”

“Um… er… okay.”

Somewhat reluctantly, Rowan climbed into bed and sank gratefully beneath the soft silky covers with a sigh.

“I hope you don’t snore.”

“I bet you snore more.”

Rowan felt the smile, even though Astrin had his back to him. “I suppose by morning we’ll know.”