Hostage (13 page)

D
REAMS
AND
P
LANS

R
OWAN
SLIPPED
into sleep with a smile on his face, but the smile didn’t last long. It seemed only moments later that he found himself standing in a very familiar place, watching a convoy of official-looking cars coming down the road toward him. He ran forward desperately. If only he could get to them before the attack. If only he could warn them. But no matter how fast he ran, he couldn’t get any closer.

“Mother! Father! Turn around! Turn around—it’s a trap. Please, please turn around. Don’t—” But, as always, a blossom of red fire bloomed to his right and the lead car swerved, lost control, and exploded. The second car plowed into it, and then the whole line exploded one after the other.

“No! No!” Rowan screamed, running toward the flames. People were spilling from the cars, staggering all over the road, their clothes on fire and their skin melting from their bones.

As he got closer, he felt the heat on his face and hands. He got to the car he knew his parents were in and tried desperately to open the door, his hands burning on the hot metal of the handle. He tried to stare through the window and suddenly a face pressed against the glass, a face that began to melt as he stared at it in fascinated horror.

His screams dying in his throat, he tugged again at the handle of the door, crying out in pain. Any minute now the door would burst open, the car would explode—showering him with burning flesh and metal—and he’d wake screaming, feeling unhinged and torn.

This time something was different; something was pulling him back. There were arms around him, drawing him away from the car. Hands turned his face from the horror and sheltered it, so when the explosions came they were muffled and distant.

At first he struggled, struggled hard, but then he started to cry and collapsed weakly into the embrace.

“Rowan. Rowan, wake up. Wake up, you’re having a bad dream. It’s all right. It’s over now. Wake up and everything will be all right.”

Rowan woke gently to the sound of the soothing voice, tears streaming down his face. A soft hand stroked his hair and back. He opened his eyes and stared.

Astrin’s face was inches from his own, the previously cold green eyes warm with concern. Astrin had one arm over his waist, holding him gently but firmly, and the other underneath him, stroking his back and hair.

Still panting, with his heart beating madly, Rowan allowed himself to relax, his eyes still locked with Astrin’s for the longest moment.

“You were dreaming,” Astrin murmured. He raised his hand to brush the hair out of Rowan’s face. Rowan closed his eyes, feeling safe—safer than he ever had after waking from that particular dream. He shivered.

“Are you all right?” Astrin’s voice still held concern, and it occurred to Rowan to wonder, after everything that had transpired, why.

“Why do you care?” There was more hostility in his voice than he’d intended, and he could have bitten off his tongue at the pain that flashed through Astrin’s eyes.

“Don’t worry, it was a fleeting moment of madness. I’m better now. Could you please get off my arm because it’s starting to hurt a lot?”

With a guilty start, Rowan realized the arm he was lying on was the one he’d dressed only a few hours earlier, so he hastily lifted himself on one elbow, allowing Astrin to slide it out, wincing.

Astrin turned his back, and Rowan lay down again and stared up at the ceiling. It was still dark, and he was tired, hot, and on edge, but he slowly came to the conclusion that Astrin deserved an explanation.

“I dreamed about my parents’ death,” he said, staring at the impassive bed canopy. “When I was younger, I dreamed about it all the time. No one ever told me, you see—what actually happened, I mean. All I know is there was a mortar attack on the convoy they were traveling in. The cars plowed into each other and exploded. My parents were killed in the fire.

“Ever since I found out that much, I’ve dreamed about it. I’ve watched helplessly as the convoy draws near, knowing what’s about to happen but not being able to stop it. I’ve run time and time again toward them, trying to find them, to get them out of the burning car. I scorch my hands trying to wrench the door open, but I can’t, and I have to watch them burn… watch their skin melt and fall off their bones.”

As much as he tried, Rowan couldn’t keep his voice level—his pain was too raw. He started to shake.

Astrin didn’t turn, but the tension left his shoulders. “It must be hard for you to keep seeing that.”

“Hard? Yeah. When I was younger, I almost lost it completely. They had to send me away, with Ragnor. I… I tried to blank it out—the memory, the dream. I did everything insanely: training, reading, learning, fighting. I almost killed myself. It took a long time to get over it. I knew I had everyone worried, but there was nothing I could do. I was going to hell, and if it hadn’t been for Ragnor, I’d never have made it back. I owe him a lot.”

Astrin turned over and regarded Rowan with a thoughtful expression. “No wonder you hated me.” He went quiet for a minute, then turned his eyes away.

“I’m sorry, Rowan. I’d like to be able to tell you what happened, but I don’t know if I know. I don’t remember.” Tears sprang to his eyes as he murmured, “I don’t even remember my father, so I can’t reassure you he’s a good man. I feel he is. I feel he’s a good man and a good father… but the truth is, I don’t know.”

“I’m sorry, Astrin. I’m truly sorry about that. It was my fault, and I gloried in your pain because I thought it would lessen mine. It didn’t. It made me hate myself for what I’d become. I think I learned my lesson, and it was a hard one.”

“It was hard on
you
?” Astrin glared at him; then he smiled. “I don’t hate you for it. I don’t think this is the time for hate.”

“I think you’re right.”

They grinned at each other, and for some reason, Rowan felt an almost irresistible urge to touch Astrin, which he resisted. Instead, he sighed deeply.

“My uncle is a good man, Astrin. He’s a very good man. He brought me up well. He’s like a father to me, and I don’t know what I’d do if he were never to return.”

Astrin frowned thoughtfully. “When House Michael finds out we’re not going to tear each other apart and destroy the peace talks, they will not be too pleased.”

“We’re not?”

“Not what?”

“Not going to tear each other apart and destroy the peace.”

Astrin shook his head. “Not unless you want to.”

“No, I don’t want to.”

“They will be angry their primary plan did not work. What will they do then? I think they will try to use them—my father and your uncle—to force us into something that will certainly not be to our benefit or the benefit of our kingdoms. We can’t let that happen.”

“What can we do to stop it? Declare war against the South? We’re already stretched thin, and I’m not convinced we have the power to defeat House Michael even if we join together.”

“I wasn’t thinking of war.”

“House Michael is all about overt displays of strength. Strebo Michael is vain and conceited. He believes he’s right in everything and there’s no room for compromise.”

“There you go,” Astrin said, shaking his head, “making judgments and generalizing again.”

“Yes, but I’ve met him. I’ve sat in on diplomatic discussions. I may have made a huge mistake about you, but I have been trained to be a diplomat all my life. They are not the kind of people to negotiate with, unless you know you have the upper hand.”

“I’ve been thinking.”

“You have?”

Astrin smiled at the way he said it. “I do have some original thoughts, even though I don’t have much to base them on at the moment.”

Rowan frowned. “Don’t you remember anything at all?”

“I remember yesterday.”

“Just yesterday?”

Now it was Astrin’s turn to frown. “There are some things—flashes, images. Sometimes I remember his face, my father… or a woman, maybe my mother. There isn’t very much else.”

“Do you remember what… what happened to you here?”

“No.” He frowned. “I hope I never do. I don’t want to hate you, Rowan.”

“I don’t want that either.”

Again they locked gazes, and there was something strange hovering in the air between them. Yet again, Rowan experienced that powerful urge to touch the strange, alien prince. Once again he stifled it and rolled away with a sigh.

“There’s nothing we can do.”

“I think there is,” Astrin said thoughtfully. “As I have no memory, no knowledge of my country’s strengths and weaknesses, I have to take your word that we could not win in open warfare. Therefore, we have to be more subtle. If we can’t send in an army, we will have to go and get them ourselves.”

“What?” Rowan turned over again and stared at him, searching for a sign he was joking. There was none. “You can’t seriously mean to suggest that, with the two most powerful men in either kingdom in their hands, we send the next two straight after? You’re insane.”

“Perhaps, but knowing only what I do about the situation, it seems to me that someone has to go. I’m no diplomat, but I surmise that, being the delicate political situation it is, people will sit around for days debating the best thing to do, the best person to send, and the best words to say. In the meantime goodness knows what is happening or going to happen to our guardians. In the time they take to talk it out, we could be there and back. It would be the last thing House Michael would expect, and I really think we could do it.”

“On our own?”

“We’ll only be on our own until we free them.”

“You truly are insane.” But Astrin had a point, and Rowan was desperate to do something, anything, other than to sit around waiting and thinking. “But… maybe….”

“There is no one who wants their freedom more than we do. There is no one who will fight harder or go to greater lengths. It has to be us.”

“But if we’re taken, it would be an even worse disaster.”

“Then we must not be taken.”

“Ragnor will never let us go.”

“Then we must go before he can stop us.”

“We can’t.”

“We must. There are a few hours before dawn. We must go now, quickly, before anyone knows we are gone. They would stop us if they could. But we must go, Rowan, I know it. Don’t ask me how, but I feel it so strongly. This is the only way we will ever see them again.”

Rowan stared at him. Astrin was lit up, excited, raised on one elbow to look down at Rowan, his eyes glowing. “We can do it, Rowan. I know we can do it.” His eyes were glowing—not shining or glittering but actually glowing.

“Astrin…. Your eyes….”

“What?”

“Your eyes are glowing. They have a light shining out of them.”

“Maybe it’s to show you what I’m seeing is true.” After giving him a piercing glare, Astrin shook his head. “I don’t care about you. You can come or not come, whatever you like. But I’m leaving now, before dawn, before anyone can stop me.”

Acting on his word, Astrin turned away from Rowan and threw off the covers. Before he even touched the floor, dizziness swept over him, making him sink straight to his knees with a moan. He stayed there for a moment, then determinedly got to his feet and headed for the bathroom, his steps dragging.

“You’re not going to make it very far in that state.”

“Then come with me and help me.”

Astrin didn’t turn, so he didn’t see Rowan roll his eyes then get slowly out of bed.

When Astrin returned from the bathroom after a very quick shower, Rowan was dressed in traveling clothes and there was another set laid out on the bed. Sturdy leather trousers, jacket, and high boots, with a soft black T-shirt and white linen shirt to make the ensemble more comfortable to wear and warmer. The set of clothes on the bed was accompanied by a long knife in a leather sheath and a pulse gun. Astrin stared.

“Where did all this stuff come from?”

“It’s mine. I keep supplies up here, just in case.”

“In case of what? Invasion?”

“You never know when you’re going to be called away on urgent business.” Rowan grinned.

“Can I take it you are coming with me?”

“I can’t let you go haring off on your own. Even though your freaky eyes and inner vision might be telling you it’s the best way to go, you’re still weak and there’s no way I’m going to let you go out there alone to die.”

Astrin sobered. “I don’t know if this is something I do. I don’t remember. But I have
seen
that this is right. That doesn’t mean it isn’t dangerous. We could be killed—both of us.”

Rowan nodded. “It’s a bloody fool thing to do. But if I say no, if I don’t go… you’re going to do it alone, aren’t you?”

Astrin chewed on his lip, searching Rowan’s eyes, and then nodded. Rowan shook his head and sighed. “There you go, then, you stubborn arse. If you’re in, I’m in. I’m not letting you have all the fun.”

Smiling, Astrin let the towel wrapped around his waist drop to the ground. Rowan flushed and turned his head away. It was a hard thing to do, because part of him wanted to do just the opposite.

Astrin sat heavily on the bed and managed to get the T-shirt, shirt, and underpants on, then ran out of energy. He sat with his head bowed, the golden curtain of hair hiding the frustrated expression on his face.

Rowan saw it when he parted the hair and stared into it. “How on earth do you think you’re going to make it into the heart of enemy territory when you can’t even dress yourself?”

“I’ll manage,” Astrin growled.

“No, you won’t,” Rowan said softly. “I’ll help you.”

Astrin raised his head and looked steadily at Rowan for a moment. “Of course, it
is
your fault I’m in this state in the first place.”

“Don’t push it, brat,” Rowan said with a grin.

Smiling in return, Astrin leaned heavily on him and allowed Rowan to help him into the stiff, leather trousers. When they were finally fastened, he fell back on the bed, letting Rowan do all the work in hauling on the boots. In the end, Rowan sat heavily on the floor, panting.