Van Laven Chronicles (9 page)

But the moment it was over and reason returned, he could not bring himself to look at Meg. Disgusted with the memory of her still clinging to him, he moved away from her.

“Now there’s a good lad,” Edred said, clapping him on the back. “Well done, boy. Well done.”

It was the first and only time Crausin had heard any words of praise from his father’s lips.

This is what it took to win your approval?

The room seemed to spin around him as the emotions battled for control – pride at finally having pleased his father, guilt over the vulgar indulgence, and anger over the humiliation. He managed a weak smile as the other girls pressed in, caressing him and boasting about their talents, enticing him to lay with them next.

Crausin could not deny the allure of the exquisite pleasure, but what had triggered the powerful response in his body? Was it the feel of Meglyn’s supple body, writhing beneath his or was it the thought of possessing Cristalla – the object of his father’s affection, the beautiful young mother who had abandoned him as child. The answer made Crausin want to draw Cristalla’s dagger across his own wrists.

When Duke Crausin opened his eyes he was grateful to be back in the present and free of that painfully paralyzing memory. But he knew they would come more powerfully and with greater frequency without Comron to help keep them at bay.

Comron!
his mind cried out.

CHAPTER 16

Comron glanced at his wrist chronometer. It was the third hour of the afternoon and the coast was nowhere in sight. Comron’s head ached as the thoughts kept tumbling over in his mind. His maternal house had intentionally sabotaged the Mobias transport and sent an assassin to put a bullet through his head. Sheally was innocent, of this he knew. She practically worshipped Crausin and adored all of her sons. She’d sooner throw herself off a building than ever conspire against her beloved family.

Sheally’s uncle, General Lugen Undersoll, was a different matter altogether. It was no secret that great animosity existed between Lugen and the Duke. Lugen’s orthodox views of the holy faith and matrimony were diametrically opposed to the way Crausin had conducted his life, in particular, the way he treated Queen Sheally, Lugen’s cherished niece. More importantly, Lugen had been held in check by Crausin limiting military expansion and his own popularity in the assembly.

Lugen’s attack at the execution was directed at both Crausin and Comron. He’d intended to remove them both from power likely believing he’d have less difficulty controlling Rhence or Gavin.

He gazed up at the cloudy sky.
Crausin, time is against us. You must find me soon.

The sector banking conference would begin tomorrow evening. If this incident caused them to miss out on the rare opportunity to advance Nethic, Crausin would have Lugen’s head on a stick, regardless of House Undersoll’s position in the realm.

If he were traveling alone, he could have made much better time, but as it was, Vaush and Wensel were like an anchor weighing him down.

He turned back, giving Vaush a harsh look. But he knew they were doing their best and had barely complained about the grueling pace. Guilt began to gnaw at him; they had scarcely stopped to rest since ridding themselves of the assassin nearly five hours ago.

Comron waited for them. Wensel was a raw bundle of nerves as Vaush pulled him along. She was drenched in perspiration and aggravated as hell. Even still, she looked incredible.

“We’ll break for thirty minutes.” Comron swung the backpack and blast rifle off of his shoulder. “Get some water and rest your legs,” he said as he proceeded toward the stream to fill his canister.

They joined him, filling their own. Vaush took a few hearty swallows and gazed out onto the sparkling water.

“Do you think it would be safe to take a dip?” she asked.

Visions of Vaush frolicking bare skinned in the crystal clear water flashed before Comron’s eyes, quickening his pulse.

He looked away from her. “We hardly have the time.”

“Just ten minutes would be heavenly.”

“I really don’t advise it.” His tone was firm.

She shrugged. “Then don’t.” She got up and slipped away to undress behind the bushes.

He and Wensel exchanged glances. “H-how much further do you think we have to go?” Wensel asked.

“How the hell should I know?” Comron snapped and moved away, irritated that Vaush would force him to endure this.
Seven hells!
This was the last thing he needed.

He turned his back to Vaush and forced his thoughts down a different path. Crausin must be going out of his mind by now searching for him. Comron did his best to help the Duke keep his mental afflictions under control. But when they were parted for too long, Crausin would often lose the battle for his sanity. The stress of not knowing whether Comron was dead or alive would certainly send him over the edge. All of this on the eve of the sector banking conference!

The sounds of splashing water and Vaush’s elation caught his attention.

The Prince of Nethic allowed his gaze to drift toward the forbidden Ti-Larosian woman. The water rose to her collar bone, the straps of her brassiere indicated that she wasn’t completely naked. Her dark silky curls were slicked down her back. Her hazel eyes were dazzling, her smile playful, her lips inviting…

Kraiten in the sea! Why must she torment me this way?

Wanting the Ti-Larosian this way was every bit as treasonous as the assassin’s murderous intentions. He would not betray Nethic, not for a fleeting moment of bliss. But there was something that he feared more…that a few moments with Vaush Bastionli would not nearly be enough to satisfy him. He’d spent the previous night more worked up and bothered than a hormonally-charged teenager. And from this morning, he remembered the swell of desire that rushed through him when she pressed in close to him. Her sweet scent, the way her hand felt upon his flesh, the way her enigmatic eyes drew him in and held him captive.

He even found himself wanting to confide in her, to share things with her he’d kept locked away from the rest of the world. Though she was Ti-Larosian, he instinctively knew that his secrets would be safe with her. That his very heart would be safe with this wondrous creature…

The thought brought him up short. How had these feelings developed so quickly? The longing he felt for her ran far deeper than lust. The word love kept darting around in his mind, as alien as the concept was to him. As a result of Crausin’s draconian tutelage in matters of the heart, Comron could honestly say he’d never been in love. Lust, yes and often, but love, never.

From his early adolescence, Comron could hear his father repeating the lesson, “Romantic love is just an illusion we create to rationalize the effort we go through to have sex.” He taught Comron to avoid the trappings of romantic love at all cost. At the age of fifteen, Crausin presented Comron with a young courtesan for the sole purpose of deflowering him. Wanting him to be no stranger to the wiles and mysteries of women, Crausin saw to it that Comron had regular visits from a host of skilled courtesans, lest he develop an attachment to any particular one.

In fact, Crausin encouraged Comron to bed as many women as he desired. His only prohibition was against forming feelings and attachments. For that would be a strict violation of their oath. To this end, Crausin had Comron scrupulously followed and monitored. Not a moment of Comron’s personal life went unobserved by Crausin. If ever he noticed Comron developing a fondness for any particular woman, he would order Comron to share the woman with him or end the relationship immediately. Complications were to be avoided.

With a growing sense of disquiet, Comron recalled the one crucial incident that occurred some eleven years ago. It was during his first year abroad at university. He’d developed a fairly casual relationship with a young woman named Rachel. The speed at which Crausin learned of it was astonishing. Immediately, Crausin insisted that he bring the girl to him or end it. Desiring to exert his independence, Comron refused and continued to see the young woman. It wasn’t a week later before he found himself, along with Rachel, trapped in the south wing cellar of Northridge Castle where Crausin violated the girl and sadistically tortured her for days, forcing Comron to watch. She died three days in.

Witnessing Crausin’s diabolical insanity for the first time had been the most frightening and terrifying thing Comron had ever experienced. Was that the price one paid for real genius, the inevitable strain of insanity lurking beneath the surface?

The traumatizing episode had left its indelible mark on Comron, searing the lesson deep into his psyche – Honor thy Duke-Father. Obey him in all things or unleash his demon from the darkest pits of hell.

Comron knew that from all outward appearances, it seemed that Crausin indulged Comron exceedingly, spoiled him beyond measure by granting him his every desire. Every desire but one.

It was the most splendidly crafted gilded cage, one where Comron’s freedom to love was merely an illusion.

And now the bars of the cage pressed in upon him, the tension building with his frustration. If he didn’t leave Vaush soon, he would go out of his bleeding mind.

“Crausin, where the blazes are you?” he muttered.

At that very moment Vaush rose from the water like some bronzed goddess emerging from the sea. Helpless to do otherwise, Comron watched her, in all her curvaceous glory. The water ran down her bare skin, tantalizing him as it moved down her breast, over her flat stomach and down between her thighs. His physical response to her was so powerful, his heart pounded wildly and his breathing grew heavy as the blood rushed headlong to his groin. He placed his water canister over his lap, trying to hide the evidence of his arousal. How the hell had he gone all those years without noticing her when every ounce of his being cried out for her now?

It pained him to see her duck behind the bushes, but he was equally grateful that the blood could finally return to his brain and reason could prevail.

“We leave in five minutes,” Comron said irritably. Wensel was off to the side looking equally floored over the sight of a beautiful scantily-clad woman.

Vaush’s head popped up over the bushes. “You said thirty. I still have fifteen minutes left.”

“Make that four.” He marched off toward the water’s edge to cool his heated flesh. He doused his head with water hoping it would wash away the images of her from his mind. He didn’t need this sort of complication in his life.

His mind carried him back once more to the cold cellar, Crausin’s hideously contorted face loomed large before him. Rachel’s mutilated body lay off to the side. Crausin’s deranged voice howled in Comron’s ears, shattering his mind. All the while, Rachel’s lifeless corpse stared at him from dark eyeless pits, begging to know why he let this happen to her.

I didn’t know, I swear, I didn’t know.

“Comron?”

He wheeled around, hands trembling and beads of sweat on his brow.

She knelt beside him. “Are you ill?”

“No,” he snapped and rose to his feet. “Let’s go. And no more stops until we reach the shore.”

CHAPTER 17

Vaush collapsed in the center of the clearing as if grateful the grueling trek had come to an end. Comron knew he’d pushed them hard, but spending another tortured night lying next to Vaush was the last thing he wanted to do. As it stood, dusk was once again upon them and the shore was nowhere in sight.

“How much further do you think we have to go?” Vaush asked on Wensel’s behalf. After the shooter incident, Wensel was terrified of Comron.

“Maybe ten to fifteen more kilometers,” he said and glanced at Vaush. “I’d have reached the coast today if I’d been alone.” “Correction,” Vaush said, moving closer to him and letting her gaze fall conspicuously to where the metal shard had been imbedded in his belly. She whispered, “If you were alone, you’d still be lying on the transport floor with a jagged piece of metal sticking out of your gut. In a word, dead.”

He winced as she walked off to set her bedding. “Ach, at least now I’m beginning to see why it is that you’re not married yet.”

Her hazel eyes flashed at him. “Pardon me?”

Wensel suddenly looked nervous. “I’ll go get us some water,” he said and headed for the stream.

Comron laid out his cloak and sat upon it. “It’s that saucy little tongue of yours. It should keep you unattached for a very long time.”

“Just as well as I’d refuse to marry an insecure weakling who felt threatened by a woman who speaks her mind.”

“You believe a man shows strength by tolerating disrespect.”

“I believe a truly wise man is not threatened by a woman of intelligence and discernment. His equal.”

“So incredibly rare is such a creature, how would he know to recognize her when he saw her?”

She cocked a pretty brow. “The saucy tongue is a dead giveaway.”

“And yet you’ve found no man who recognized those qualities in you?” He opened a can of food and swatted at a mosquito.

“As a matter of fact I have and I would have married him had my father permitted it.”

The jolt of jealousy surprised him. “Why did your father disapprove of the match?”

Vaush sniffed her food then set aside her container. “Because the man in question was a commoner. An esteemed and gifted physician from a respectable family, but a commoner nonetheless.”

Had he finally found a kink in this angel’s armor?

“So the elitist in you finally emerged and you cast him aside,” he said with a particularly snide smirk.

“No, Father allowed us to continue seeing each other under the condition that we never marry or start a family.”

Comron’s brow furrowed at this development. Crausin never would’ve permitted him that much freedom.

“But Grantham, that was his name, wasn’t content with that arrangement. He gave me an ultimatum, defy my father to become his wife or I was to pack my things and leave.”

“You were living with him without the benefit of matrimony?” he said in a judgmental tone, though what really galled him was the thought of this angelic creature sleeping serenely in another man’s arms, in another man’s bed.

She hesitated. “His residence was our home base. But much of the two years that we spent together were out in the field where we volunteered our services. Grantham had a very successful practice, which provided him the freedom to engage in a great deal of humanitarian work, providing free medical care in underdeveloped regions. I accompanied him and organized volunteer workers from my foundation to set up vital services in the communities.”

His jaw twitched at the nauseatingly happy little picture she painted. Of course the esteemed, do-gooder, Doctor Grantham was the only sort of man Vaush could ever love. He conceded that someone like himself wouldn’t stand a chance of winning Vaush’s heart. The only way to alter her opinion of him would be to become involved
anonymously
in one of her damnable charities. If he became a generous donor, her gratitude would overcome any aversion she felt toward him when he revealed himself to be her wealthy benefactor. Only then could he confess his deep admiration and…

Stop tormenting yourself. Crausin would never permit it!

The bars around him tightened and he felt as if he’d suffocate under the pressure.

“So you packed your things and left the poor sod,” he said, fighting off the rising anxiety.

“I packed my things to join him on our next mission trip. I was planning to tell him that I accepted his proposal.”

Again, his gut convulsed with jealousy. “Then why aren’t the two of you together?” That’s when it occurred to him. “Are you still with him?” He held his breath for the answer.

She shook her head. “I was to meet him at the hangar bay if I accepted his proposal, if not, it meant I had declined.”

“What happened?”

“I showed up at the last moment, but stood there watching him board the transport. I told myself that if he turned around to look for me, I would let him know that I was there. But he never looked back and I took that as a sign to let him go.”

“Without a word to him?”

She nodded.

He glared at her feeling Grantham’s pain. “Do you find some particularly perverse pleasure in being cruel?”

“Cruel?” A slight smile curled her lips. “That was me at my kindest. Grantham was a truly wonderful man who deserved someone who would love him with everything they were. I wasn’t that person, only I hadn’t realized it until that day standing there in the hangar bay.”

A wave of melancholy washed over him. “How good of you to figure it out after two years.”

A pensive expression fell over her. “When I watched him leave, I was truly sad to see that chapter of my life come to a close, but I also sensed that the fullness of my life wouldn’t be significantly diminished by his absence.”

Why did he feel as if he’d been kicked in the stomach?

“You see, if he had been the one,” she said, staring earnestly at Comron. “I wouldn’t have been able to breathe at the thought of him leaving.” Her gaze lingered upon him, drawing him in until she casually shrugged. “But I was breathing just fine.”

And how would she feel when they parted ways tomorrow? Would she shrug so nonchalantly, pleased to see this miserable chapter of her life come to a close? Did it matter to her that the thought of their parting made him ache inside?

She smiled wanly. “Not all of us can be as fortunate as you, Prince Comron.”

His eyes fixed upon her with the unspoken question.

“You have found the woman of your dreams.”

Had he been that transparent?

“In less than four weeks, you will be the envy of every man in the Sellusion Empire when you wed the fair Honored Lady of Garonne.”

His mouth twisted, his nostrils flared. First Crausin’s bloody oath and now the sham of a wedding to that rabid whore, it was all too much to bear alone.

He assured himself that Wensel hadn’t returned, then boldly declared, “I don’t love her.”

“What?” Vaush said, looking more confused than anything.

“I’m being forced into this accursed marriage.” There was no regret in his confession, only relief at confiding in her.

“But all of the society journals and holographs depict the two of you as blissfully beautiful and happy. You’ve reached that iconic status, where every couple wishes they were you and Spira.”

“It’s all a charade, an elaborate facade orchestrated by my father and Spira, which I am forced to comply with as stipulated by the betrothal contract. Every word, every touch, every gesture is a scripted falsehood.”

Vaush could not have looked any more shocked than if she’d witnessed a Nethicaen declaring his love for a Ti-Larosian. But with the confession, he had removed one of the barriers between them.

Her expression turned solemn as she finally spoke. “How horrible for you. Your duty as Crown Prince virtually precludes the possibility of you marrying for love. I truly hope that what House Eskridge is offering is worth the price of your happiness.”

Comron heard the farewell in her words. He could already see her walking away with a casual shrug. Something inside of him was dying.

“What if Grantham had been the one you couldn’t breathe without?” he inquired as his eyes scanned the area for Wensel. “Would you have defied your father over him?”

“Not only my father.” Her hazel eyes narrowed and her tone was deathly serious. “Nothing in this entire universe would have kept me from the man I loved.”

Her words rocked him to the core – to be the object of her passionate desire consumed him. He wanted desperately to know what it was to be loved by her.

Vaush smirked and rolled her eyes. “Of course, I’ve yet to meet this fictitious man. Meanwhile…” She shrugged as Wensel entered the clearing. “I’m married to my work.”

With that, the door slammed shut in his face.

The prince’s spirit sank even deeper into the murky depths as the stark truth stared him in the face. After Patheis, Vaush would soar away like some exotic bird, so beautiful and free…while he remained earthbound, trapped behind the bars of his gilded cage.