The Third Son (47 page)

A tear came to her eye as she thought about Lionus and how close they had been to their happily ever after. She wiped it away. Today was about happiness. Today was about her closest friend and her dear brother-in-law finding each other again and coming together in love.

Esmeralda’s grandmother, Akira, took her hand and squeezed it.  “It’s so beautiful, isn’t it?” she asked, her smile wide. Isabelle could not be sure why, but for some reason she always felt as though the old woman could see right into her soul.

“Yes,” she agreed. “I am so glad that they have found their happiness.”

“Not to worry,” Akira said with a reassuring pat on her shoulder. “Your
s
is closer than you think.”

Isabella turned back to the
new married
couple and sighed. “I’m not so sure about that,” she murmured, a touch of sadness still lingering in her voice.

The old Gypsy woman only chuckled, her eyes twinkling mysteriously. “Oh, but I am.”

Epilogue

Sunlight streamed through the window and why that should bother him when his eyes were closed, he was not sure. The drapes were obviously thrown open and the sun had decided to stream directly into his eyes as he lay in the bed trying to sleep.

He flung one hand over his eyes to block out the light, but to no avail. It was almost as if the light were reaching out to him, calling him, beckoning him to wakefulness.

His body ached. He could not recall what he had done the night before, but his head was pounding something awful and his mouth was so dry he could barely swallow.
             

T
hen in a flash, he remembered. The dark night on the side of the road, his brother run through by a sword, the fear in his sister-in-law’s eyes as she took the reins to the carriage in her hands, the evil glint in his half-brother’s eyes as he had ordered him lashed to the back of a carriage.

He remembered.

He shot into a sitting position, his eyes flying open. A gasp from a corner of the room alerted him to someone else’s presence. He searched the room until he saw her. She rose slowly from her chair in the corner
. T
he book she had been reading clattered loudly to the floor. For a moment
,
she did not move or even speak. She stared at him as if he were a ghost and did not move as if she were afraid she would frighten him off.

He stared back at her, awed as he had always been by her beauty. Her wide blue eyes were filled with tears as she walked slowly to his bedside. He looked down to see that she was offering him a glass of water.

He accepted and drank greedily, savoring every last drop, unable to understand why his throat was so damned dry. When he was finished she took the glass from him and set it aside, still staring at him as if she could hardly believe her eyes.

How he had longed for her to gaze at him this way. For so long he had loved her, watched her from afar, longing for what could never be between them. His heart pounded in his chest when she hurtled herself against him, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck.

He was unsure of how to react, so he wrapped one arm around her, using the other to keep himself propped up. He closed his eyes and inhaled. She smelled heavenly. He did not know why she was crying and holding him as if she had not seen him in years. He only knew that he did not want her to let go.

Dear Reader,

I hope you enjoyed my debut novel, The Third Son. The sequel and book two in my ‘Kings of Cardenas’ series will be released
January
2012. Happy reading.

Regards,

Elise

Now Available: Book 2 in the Kings of Cardenas Series

Prologue

Cardenas, 1856

The sound of highly polished boots against gleaming marble floors echoed down the seemingly endless corridor. Its cadence held a sense of urgency, impatience even and all who heard were wise enough to stand aside though they did not forget to bow or curtsy to the man moving swiftly past them. His strides were long and purposeful and his face was devoid of all outward emotion. Those who knew him best would know by looking that nervous fingers had been raked several times through his light blonde curls.

His full mouth was pressed into a grim line and his jade eyes were focused steadily ahead. He increased his speed once rounding a corner, almost to his destination. The footman that had come running into his study had brought exciting news. The news was so phenomenal, in fact, that if anyone else were privy to what was going on behind the closed door of his brother’s chambers, they would wonder why he was not leaping for joy.

It was what he had been hoping for, praying for, waiting for. Perhaps this was why he had refused to get his hopes up. The news seemed too good to be true and he wasn’t sure he would even believe it until he saw for himself. He neared the tall oak door leading to his brother’s rooms and paused. He was not sure what to expect. The footman’s message had been hurried and panted out between short breaths since the man had run across the entire length of the palace to find him.

During his short reign as king, Damien Largess had learned a lot, and one of those things was that he could not govern everything. This was a daunting thought, especially for one who could command an entire army or a fleet of ships with a single word. He had authority over much but he found that he had never been able to control the things that really mattered.

He had waited for this day for so long, and now that it was here, he was unsure how to proceed. Would his brother have his memory? Would he be angry at Damien for having to take the throne in his stead? Would he be anything like his former self, or a merely a shadow of what he once had been? There really was only one way to find out.

He lifted his hand to the knob and turned, pushing the door in slowly. He poked his head through the doorway and peered into the room.

On the bed was his brother, sitting upright with his eyes open for the first time since he’d slipped into a coma one year ago. He had lost a considerable amount of weight, and his hair had grown past his shoulders, but he was otherwise unchanged. Damien’s heart swelled and tears sprung to his eyes. Every emotion he had ever known welled up within his chest and threatened to spill forth in a chorus of prayers and cries of thanks to God.

The sound of soft sobs, a woman’s cry, alerted him to the presence of another in the room. Damien had been so immersed in studying the face of his long-lost brother and thanking the heavens, he had not even noticed that his sister-in-law was seated on the bed with Serge, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck. Isabelle was crying, he knew, even though he couldn’t see her face. Her shoulders shook gently with her sobs and she held on to Serge as if she did not want to let go.

Damien knew the feeling. The two of them were the only people left in the entire palace that had held on to hope. Neither of them could let themselves believe that he would not awaken someday and now he finally had.

“Serge,” he said gently, stepping quietly into the room and closing the door behind him. He did not want anyone else intruding upon this moment. Both Isabelle and Serge glanced up at the sound of his voice and smiled. Isabelle stood from the bed, her hands clasped together as if in prayer.

“He came to a few minutes ago,” she said with a sniffle, wiping at her pale blue eyes with the back of her hand. “One moment he was just laying there and the next he was sitting up in bed, looking at me.”

She grabbed Damien’s arm and propelled him toward the canopied bed, since his legs seemed to have stopped functioning on their own. “He doesn’t know how long it’s been,” she whispered before they got to the foot of the bed. Damien’s heart sank to the pit of his stomach and he repressed the urge to sigh aloud.

Serge had not yet looked in a mirror, but when he did, he was sure to understand just how long he had lain unconscious in his bed. He frowned. “I’m glad to see you Damien,” he said. “But Isabelle told the footman to go and fetch Lionus. Where is he?”

Damien turned a questioning glance at Isabelle who shrugged helplessly. “I told him to go and find His Highness immediately,” she said, and Damien understood. Serge did not yet know that Damien was now His Highness. He cleared his throat.

“There is something you should know,” he said, taking another step toward the bed. “Much has occurred that you should be made aware of.”

Serge grinned, swinging his legs over the side of the bed to stand. Damien rushed to his side immediately, knowing that an entire year in bed could not have been kind to his brother’s leg muscles.

“You mustn’t try to do too much at once,” he admonished when Serge stood and fell against him. “You’ve been extremely ill and will no doubt be a bit weak for a while.”

Serge’s smile faded and he looked first at Damien and then at Isabelle, who suddenly found she could not look him directly in the eye. “Ill?” he asked, furrowing his brow in concentration, obviously trying to remember. “How long?” he asked. “A few weeks?”

Damien sighed. There was no use in holding back he supposed. He had much to say, a lot of which he was sure Serge would not be happy to hear. He knew it was better that he hear it all at once. Much like pulling a tooth, Damien would have to do it swiftly, though it would be extremely painful. The sooner it was over, the sooner Serge could begin to really heal. He took a deep breath.

.

Chapter 1

Lionus was dead. It was a fact that Serge rebelled against in his mind every moment since he’d heard the news. It just could not be true, he told himself, convinced that he was right despite the startling evidence to the contrary. When he’d been strong enough to leave his sickbed and finally dress himself and leave his chambers, Serge had left the palace with only one destination in mind.

He now stood in the royal family’s private cemetery, where generations of kings, queens, princes and princesses had been buried. Green hills dotted with lush trees surrounded the gated burial ground and the coolness of fall surrounded him in a swirl of red and brown leaves. He could hardly fathom the change. Before he’d slipped into darkness, Cardenas had been cloaked in winter.

The pain in his heart when he found his brother’s year-old tombstone, placed neatly beside his father’s, had been unreal. He knelt before the smooth stone and reached out with his hand to touch it. Despite the warmth of the afternoon sun beaming down overhead, the stone was ice cold.

Serge sighed and closed his eyes, willing himself to remember the past year. As always, he could remember nothing other than snatches of conversation that seemed more like dream than reality. He grunted in frustration and pounded his fist against the tightly packed earth beneath him. He had awakened from a year-long coma to find that there was an entire year of his life that stood somewhere in shadow within his mind, and try as he might he could recall none of it.

He turned back toward Largess Hall, looming high and proud against the clear, bright sky. Leaves crunched beneath his feet and beyond his home he could see the snow-capped mountains bordering Cardenas. Soon, the snow atop those mountains would also blanket the hills surrounding the palace and the air would go from crisp coolness to bitter cold. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers and walked slowly, knowing that if he moved too quickly, he was bound to get dizzy. He may even pass out again, left lying on the grass for hours until he either awakened or was found. The prospect was not encouraging.