WinterofThorns (14 page)

“I don’t know, milady,” he said softly.
“Whenever our Overlord is finished with me.”

Jana winced. “I don’t like the sound of
that.”

He put a hand to her cheek, lowered his
forehead to hers. “Will you stop worrying? Everything will be all right.”

“Then why is that man watching every move
you make?” she demanded. “Why is he here in our room? Did he arrest you?”

“Gilly,” Seyzon said, not looking at the
man but staring into his wife’s eyes. “Have you arrested me?”

“You know I have not, milord.”

“Are you
here
to arrest me?”

“No, milord,” Tohre replied. “I was given
no orders to arrest you.”

“See?” Seyzon kissed her on the nose. “I am
not under arrest and he’s not going to shackle me once we’re out of sight of
Lavenfeld.” He glanced at Tohre. “Are you, Gilly?”

“Why would I do that, milord?” Tohre
queried, dodging the question.

“Stop. Worrying,” Seyzon told his lady.

“I can’t help it, Zonny.” Her lip trembled.
“I don’t trust him.”

“I am a trustworthy male, milady,” Tohre
said and turned red when both Seyzon and Jana shot him an irritated look. He
cleared his throat and looked down at his boots.

“You know whom I meant,” Jana told her
husband.

“The prince has no reason to be angry at me
now, sweeting,” Seyzon said. “Gilly referenced the Reivers problem so that has
to be why I am being summoned. Riverglade may have withstood their advance but
Frostgate was taken.” He took her into his arms. “Please,
please
try not
to let your imagination run away with you. I will be fine.”

“Until you are safely back at Lavenfeld, I
will worry,” she said and when he hooked a finger under her chin to lift her
face to his, she gave him no chance to kiss her. She claimed his mouth so
resolutely he stumbled under her savage possession.

Tohre cleared his throat again as though to
remind them he was in the room.

Seyzon pulled away from his lady, gave her
one last gentle smile then put her from him. “I will be back before you know
it,” he told her.

Jana stood in the doorway of Lavenfeld with
her mother-in-law at her side and watched the man she loved vault into the
saddle of his mount. Reins in his left hand, he raised his right in farewell to
her. The horse sidestepped then tossed its head, anxious to be away. As soon as
Seyzon put heels to its flanks, it broke into a fast gait.

“That horse has ever been a hellion,” Lady
Millicent said. “I worry about him throwing Zonny one of these days.”

The troop of men who had come to fetch her
husband fell in behind Seyzon and Tohre, the sound of hooves and bridles loud
in the mid-morning air as they clamored over the drawbridge.

Lady Millicent slipped her arm around her
daughter-in-law’s waist. “Try not to worry, dear,” she said. “The prince means
our boy no harm.”

“Then why send nine men to fetch him to
Wicklow?” Jana asked. “He could have sent a single messenger to bid Seyzon come
to him. Why send troops?”

“Mayhap to protect him?” Lady Millicent
suggested. “You know Seyzon is on the Selwyn Reivers most-wanted list. For them
to abduct Seyzon—a man known to be the prince’s best friend and one dearly
loved by him—would give the Reivers leverage over Prince Vindan. Mayhap he did
not want to take that chance.”

“I pray you are right, milady.” Jana could
no longer see her husband or the troops for the drawbridge was being raised,
blocking her view. Though she tried to use her psychic power to look beyond the
moment, the future that lay ahead was still a murky swirl of gray mist that hid
from her what was to come.

“Come inside, now,” Lady Millicent bid. She
gently ushered Jana back into the keep, her arm still looped around Jana’s
waist.

“Let us see if we can find some mischief to
get into that will take your mind from the trouble you are attempting to
borrow,” Lady Millicent told her.

Jana doubted anything could take her mind
from the worry that was brewing within her. She didn’t trust Vindan not to
cause Seyzon more grief. In the weeks she had been at Wicklow, she had come to know
the prince better than she let on. Though they had never been alone again after
that night at Riverglade, she had caught his eyes on her whenever they were in
close proximity. The look in those blue orbs told her the man was deeply
enamored of her.

She was afraid of Vindan Brell. Not because
he had given her any reason to fear him. He had not hurt her or threatened her.
She feared him because she was afraid her time with him on her wedding night
had instilled feelings within her she should not have. He had been the perfect
gentleman on that disastrous night, had eased her into womanhood with a
tenderness, a respectfulness she knew few men of the royalty would have
exhibited. He had been loving, kind.

And he had made it clear to her that he had
feelings for her as well.

Not in words but in the way he stared
hungrily at her. Those times when she found him watching her, his riveted
attention did not bear the stamp of lust but of deep growing affection. His
smile hinted at something she refused to acknowledge.

For that reason alone she could not hate him,
but she feared him.

As well as the unwanted desire that came
over her when she met his heated stare.

Now she had something else to fear—him
sending for Seyzon.

She had been sure the troops had been sent
to take her back to Wicklow. She had barely taken a calming breath when told
that was not the case when her husband informed her it was he the men had come
after.

“Jana, please,” her mother-in-law pleaded
as she removed her arm. “Stop worrying. All will be well.”

Jana nodded for tears were clogging her throat.
Seyzon had been gone less than ten minutes yet it felt as though it was entire
day. Until he was home again, she knew her worrying would not stop for she was
terrified the prince would keep her husband at Lavenfeld.

* * * * *

“You had an uneventful trip?” Vindan asked
Seyzon. He held up a decanter of Chrystallusian plum brandy and cocked a brow.

“Aye, milord.” Seyzon shook his head at the
offer. “No, thank you.”

The prince poured himself a generous amount
of brandy. “I was worried those pesky Selwyn bastards might attempt to kidnap
you.”

“There was little chance of that happening,
milord,” Seyzon said, a muscle working in his jaw. “The Reivers are a hundred
miles from Lavenfeld.”

“More like seventy-five.” Vindan placed the
glass stopper atop the brandy decanter. “But I imagine they’ve spies even
within Wicklow, don’t you?” He took a sip of the fiery brew, watching Seyzon
over the rim of the snifter.

“I am sure of it, milord,” Seyzon agreed.

Vindan swallowed, winced a little at the
burn that slid down his throat, then swirled the pale-pink liquor. “Milord,” he
repeated. “How formal.”

“You are my Overlord and it is my duty to
render respect,” Seyzon said. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides,
his fingernails digging into his palm.

“If your body gets any stiffer, Zonny, you
will shatter into a million pieces,” Vindan snapped. “For fuck sake, relax!”

“May I ask why I am here, milord?” Seyzon
queried.

“Aye, get right to the point,” Vindan
stated. “That is where our relationship has gone now, eh? To formality and a
desire to get the hell out of my presence as quickly as possible?”

Seyzon didn’t reply. He knew he was being
baited and he knew to hold his tongue. Anything he said could—and would—be held
against him from this moment on.

“Our friendship is dead, then?” Vindan
pressed. When Seyzon did not answer, the prince began to pace. “You could hold
a grudge longer than anyone I’ve ever known.”

Unable to stop the snort that comment
brought out of him, Seyzon met Vindan’s stare with a narrowed one of his own.

“You’ve something to say, Lord Montyne?”
Vindan challenged.

“Nothing that wouldn’t get me slapped in
irons, milord,” Seyzon said through clenched teeth.

“Oh, feel free to express your thoughts,
old friend. I’m willing to listen with an open mind. You need not worry what
you say will put you in my dungeon.”

“So you say, milord.”

The prince threw the brandy snifter across
the room. It hit the wall and burst apart. The smell of brandy filled the room.

“Don’t you fucking dare doubt my word,
Montyne!” he bellowed. “Don’t you fucking
dare
!”

“Are you giving me your word that what I
say will not land me in a cell shackled to the wall, milord?” Seyzon countered.

“Stop fucking calling me that!” Vindan all
but screamed. His face was scarlet red from his fury, his eyes bulging, his
mouth a thin slit.

“Give me your word and I will,” Seyzon said
then smiled nastily. “Milord.”

Vindan marched across the room until he was
toe to toe with Seyzon. He fused his gaze with Seyzon’s. “You say that word one
more time…” Vindan growled. “Just
one
more fucking time and see what I
do, Montyne!”

“What will you do, Vindan? Take something
else that belongs to me?” Seyzon growled.

The standoff ticked like a time bomb as the
two warriors glared at each other. Neither of them spoke and the only things
that moved were their eyes and the grinding muscles in their cheeks. The only
sound in the room was the harsh breathing that came from them both.

“Back off, Montyne. You’d better switch
gears, my man, for you are treading on dangerous ground,” Vindan said at last.

“How so?”

“You know gods-be-damned well why! You
defied me by taking her to wife without my permission. You knew better. You
fucking
knew
better! I could have handed down a harsher punishment.” He
moved closer still to Seyzon. “In retrospect, I
should
have!”

“You want to have me whipped, Vindan?”
Seyzon asked in a soft, deadly voice. He searched the prince’s eyes. “Then do
it. If it will ease your conscience, then do it!”

“Ease my conscience?” Vindan repeated.

“You knew what you were doing was wrong.
You knew it would hurt—perhaps destroy—our friendship, drop me to my knees like
a fucking thunderbolt. But you didn’t care. Just like when we were children. If
I had something you wanted you took it—consequences be damned—and I was
supposed to accept it, suck it up and forgive you.” He lifted his hand and
punched his index finger into Vindan’s chest, emphasizing each stressed word
with a brutal jab. “Well, guess what,
milord
? This time I
don’t
accept
it. I
won’t
suck it up and I fucking won’t
ever
forgive you!”

Vindan shoved him as hard as he could and
Seyzon staggered back. The backs of his knees collided with a coffee table and
he fell onto it, breaking the fragile legs. The table collapsed beneath him and
he landed on his back with a grunt. Before he could roll off and come to his
feet, Vindan flew at him, falling on him like a heavy log.

“Son of a bitch!” Seyzon hissed. He wrapped
his arms around the prince and they rolled, each trying to pummel the other.
Their legs entangled, Seyzon managed to gain the advantage by coming to his
knees and planting a vicious right cross, clipping Vindan hard on the point of
his chin. Snagging his left hand in the other man’s shirt, Seyzon jacked him
forward and hit him again and again—blood spraying from Vindan’s nose—until his
arm was caught from behind and he was wrenched to his feet. A second set of
hands grabbed his other arm and jerked him backward. Someone shouted at him to
stand down and that only infuriated him more. Cursing, hissing like an enraged
panther, he tried to get to Vindan but the prince had crab walked on his hands
and heels away from him and was staggering to his feet, the back of his hand under
his nose.

“Hold him,” Vindan ordered and he came
forward with his fists doubled.

“Aye, you’d best hold me,” Seyzon shouted.
“He can’t take me down all on his own!” He laughed. “Never could and never
will!”

Vindan stopped. His lips peeled back from
his teeth and he hawked up a mouthful of blood and spat it at Seyzon’s feet. He
wiped the blood from his nose with the back of his hand. “Let the bastard go,”
he told his men.

“Milord…” one of the men began.

“
Let him go!
” Vindan bellowed.

Seyzon yanked his arms out of the other
men’s grip and stood there with his chest heaving. His left cheekbone ached
where Vindan had got in a solitary punch but he’d drawn first blood and it was
dripping from the prince’s broken nose. He watched his old friend walking toward
him, braced himself, then waited for a punch that never came.

“Never bested you, huh?” Vindan asked. “How
about all the times I put your ass down, Montyne? Huh? How about those times?”

“You won because I was told to let you.”
Seyzon watched Vindan’s eyes widen. “Aye, milord, aye. Belial warned me if I
won he’d whip my ass!”

At the mention of the long-dead
Master-at-Arms who had trained them when they were boys, Vindan growled. “He
would not have said that!”

“Aye, well, he did and you know I don’t
lie!” Seyzon yelled at him.

“Why would he do that?” Vindan demanded.
“He trained me the same as you.”

“Are you fucking serious?” Seyzon asked.
“He couldn’t let the little prince lose. Little Prince Vindan Brell had to win
no matter what the cost. You have no idea how hard it was for me to throw every
gods-be-damned sparing match we ever had. How hard it was to swallow my pride
and let a lesser man take the laurels right out of my hand every time!”

“Lesser man?” Vindan said, snagging the
word like a fish on a hook. “Lesser man?”

“Aye, a lesser man,” Seyzon said. “One who
couldn’t get a woman of his own so stole one on her fucking Joining night!”