WINDKEEPER (54 page)

Conar stepped as close to the High Priest as his lurching belly would allow. "And I told you no!" His jaw clenched into a hard, unforgiving line. "Why now, Kaileel? You must have seen the bracelet when I was disrobed. Why do this now?" He could barely speak for his rage.

"Conar," Kaileel said with exasperation, "I don’t believe you want me to have my Temple Guards take hold of you and force you to your knees in order for me to cut that whore’s filth from your flesh!" He saw Conar start. "Aye, my fine Princeling, I know of her. I know all there is to know of her, and because of her, and your illicit lusting after her, I will gladly call forth my men and have them drag you to the very steps of the altar for all to see me do this to you." His smile turned evil as the pits of hell. "If that is your wish."

Conar jerked his head away, tearing his sight from that hated smug and vile face. "I won’t let you do it, Tohre. I won’t."

"If you want to bring shame to your father, and yourself, bring shame to the McGregor name in front of all these witnesses, then so be it! But I will promise you this. If you force me to such an action, I will humiliate you before I am through with you, Conar." Tohre’s voice was oily smooth. "Far worse than I ever have before."

Kaileel willed the young man to look to him and was not surprised that he obeyed. He held the prince’s desperate stare and smiled. He took in Conar’s bleak eyes, and knew the young man was being pushed to the edge of endurance.

Tohre’s push became a vicious shove.

"How do you think your father will react to what I can tell him about you?" He cocked his head to one side. "Shall I introduce him to the friends you made at the Monastery, Conar?

"You would do that, wouldn’t you?" Conar whispered.

Kaileel smiled. "With the greatest of pleasure, my Prince."

Conar lowered his head. "You enjoy hurting me, don’t you, Kaileel?"

"Aye, sweet child, and you know why."

Conar flinched. He wasn’t used to begging for anything, from anyone. It galled him to do so, especially with this man, but he looked into Tohre’s waiting face and pleaded with the High Priest.

"Kaileel, please. Let me keep it. It’s all I have left of her. What harm is it doing?"

True glee spread over Tohre’s face. It did his black heart good to hear his greatest of enemies’ agony. To hear Conar begging him as a man instead of a boy. It brought back fond memories. It made him glad he was able to dash all hope, to destroy that part of Conar McGregor that was willfully holding on to the last dregs of a happiness Tohre meant to see him live without.

"You need no reminders of your past indiscretions, Conar. You are bound to that woman in there. You are hers, now, and not that whore’s." He held out his hand once more, the wicked, curved nails spiraling upward.

For a long time Conar held Kaileel’s stare. He saw his own shame written there and he knew it would humiliate his father and aunt if he had to be forced to his knees in front of their friends, and there was no doubt in his mind that Kaileel would do just as he threatened. There would be no stopping the evil man once he began.

Through the grasp of his fingers over the braided silk, Conar could feel the warmth of Liza, could feel the silk of her hair and body, could feel the heart inside his chest aching, he caressed the black braid, squeezed it one last time. His hopes and dreams and future dissolved before him. There would be nothing left.

Painfully, agonizingly, he withdrew the protection of his fingers from his wrist. His eyes lowered beneath the sweep of his tawny brows and he looked at the black silk of Liza’s hair for the last time. He sighed, his pain too great to bear.

Slowly, reluctantly, sorrowfully, he held out his arm to Tohre, flinching as the priest’s hand shot out to grip his forearm in a steely clutch. The sight of the long, curving, red-tipped nails made him ill and he cast his sight to the recesses of the sacristy where Legion stood, a look of uncertainty on his bearded face.

"No!" Tohre commanded, snatching viciously on the young man’s arm. "You look at me, Conar!" He tugged again. "I will see your face when I do this!"

The young Prince shook his head, unable to look at Tohre.

"Aye, Conar!" Tohre snarled, tightening his grip even more. "You will!"

"No," came the weak, whispered reply. "I can’t."

"You can and you will!" Tohre’s grip turned malicious on Conar’s arm, the long nails gouging into his flesh. "Or else I shall have you taken before the altar for this to be done."

Kaileel felt a degree of supreme gratification when Conar reluctantly turned his gaze to him.

"Don’t you ever get tired of this game, Kaileel?"

"You are mine, Conar." The thin lips parted. "And you always will be." A hateful smirk appeared on the lean face. "You will never truly belong to another this side of hell!"

"Get on with it," Conar mumbled, his heart breaking, his soul bleak and barren of hope.

"Then, you keep your eyes on me. I want to see your reaction when I take away the last link you have with your past." Tohre smirked.

"No, you want to see me hurt, Kaileel. Call it what it is." Conar’s words were broken, filled with suffering.

"Aye, you are right. There has never been any need for lies between us." Tohre’s hand caressed Conar’s forearm. "We understand one another."

The dagger slipped none too gently under the braid and slashed upward, severing the only tie Conar had left to the woman he loved.

* * *

Legion had warned Conar to remove it when they were leaving the steaming chamber. Now it had been cut from him in a way meant to humble him. Watching his brother’s shoulders sag, Legion could almost feel his despair.

Conar’s eldest brother pushed away from the wall and took a few steps toward the two men. They were staring at one another, speaking in low tones he couldn’t hear, and he wondered what the High Priest could be saying that would cause such fury on Conar’s face, what could be so horrible that it would cause such a reaction. Wanting to help his brother, but not daring to interfere for fear of bringing further punishment down on Conar’s head, Legion remained where he was.

* * *

"It is past time you remembered who I am, Conar," Tohre reminded his Prince as he dropped the silken braid into the pocket of his robe. "I am the Master; you, my sweet Princeling, are the servant. I command; you obey."

His young eyes turned old as sin as Conar narrowed them at the High Priest. With a growl of hate, he leaned close and spat on the floor at Tohre’s feet. "Go fuck yourself, Kaileel," Conar ground out, wiping his hand across his lips.

Tohre smiled and the smile was vicious and teasing as Conar turned away, his hands clenched into fists, not even waiting for the evil man to follow him as he stalked through the Chancel to his new bride.

Conar glanced at Legion as Tohre took his place in front of the altar and wondered if Legion had realized what had happened. From the pity on his brother’s face, he knew he had.

"It is time for the unveiling," Tohre called, drawing the attention of those who had been whispering about the exchange between the young Prince and the High Priest.

Everyone present was exceedingly interested in what the young bride looked like. Speculation had been rampant concerning her deformities and those who had gathered were now sitting forward on their chairs to get a good look.

"No!" Medea shouted as Tohre reached for her daughter’s veil.

The people jerked with surprise. All heads turned to her.

The Oceanian Queen walked to the High Priest and looked at him with authority. "It is the custom of our people that only the husband of the bride may see her unveiled on her wedding night, and only then in the privacy of their bridal chamber."

"What?" the elderly noble sitting next to Teal asked. "What did she say?"

"That is not our custom," Tohre snapped.

"My husband and I have adhered to your rituals, even brought the wedding here to your country, but in this we are adamant. No Oceanian bride is unveiled until after her groom has seen her."

"That isn’t true," Dyllon’s wife said as she leaned over to whisper to her husband. "I’ve been to several Oceanian weddings and not once has the bride not been unveiled at the ritual."

Dyllon shrugged. "If The Toad looks as bad as Conar suspects, it’s just as well he doesn’t unveil her here."

"Aye," Coron agreed as he leaned across his wife to speak with his brother. "I don’t think he’d like to have our guests see what he really thought of the woman."

"Well, that may very well be the reason her mother doesn’t want her unveiled," Coron’s wife reminded them. "Perhaps she is concerned for Conar."

"One thing’s for sure," Dyllon replied, "I’m gonna gods-be-damned well postpone our leaving until I see her!"

Kaileel turned to the bride. "Madame? Is this your desire, as well?"

"Leave it up to His Grace," came a grating whisper through the veil. "If he wants me unveiled here, then I shall allow it."

"Daughter!" her mother gasped, looking to Conar. "Not now!"

The young Prince could feel Tohre’s expectant stare on him, but he refused to look at the bastard. "It matters not to me. If that is what the lady wants, then it shall be so." He could feel his wife’s gaze on him and he turned his head and looked down at her. "I can wait if that is your wish."

"It is, Your Grace," she whispered.

"Then it shall be as you wish."

Kaileel was vastly disappointed. He had wanted to see the look of horror on the young man’s face when he viewed his hideous, lifelong mate for the first time. "This is a break from our traditions—"

"As if you had not broken with our traditions," Conar interrupted. "I am Prince Regent, Tohre, and as such, I have granted my wife her wish. You must abide by my decision."

If looks could have killed, Kaileel Tohre’s glower would have struck Conar down in agony. The man’s thin lips turned prim and hard and his chin lifted as he looked down his thin nose.

"As you wish, my Prince." Tohre turned to the assemblage. "I present to you His Royal Highness Prince Conar Aleksandro McGregor of Serenia, and his bride, Her Royal Highness Princess Anya Elizabeth McGregor!"

The people stood, applauding as the couple began their walk down the ermine pathway. Anya’s hand rested on Conar’s right forearm, his left hand covering her fingers as was tradition.

If anyone noticed the scowling frown on the groom’s face, they took no notice. Their attention was glued to the perfectly formed and voluptuous body of the woman limping beside him, wondering at what lay beneath the thick silver netting.

Conar met Teal’s look as he passed and he smiled at his friend. It didn’t matter any more if he was happy or sad about what had just taken place. It was a moot point. He was shackled to The Toad. He would need friends like du Mer to keep him sane and help him make the most of it.

Law said he had to live with the bitch, to mate with her, get children from her; but it didn’t say he had to spend every waking hour with her. In fact, he planned on staying as far away from her as he could legally and morally afford to do, without being censured by his father or the Tribunal. Once he had her belly big with child, he would have nine months of near freedom until it was time to fill her up again.

The thought of turning this lovely body beside him into a baby-making factory put a smile so sinister and so threatening on the young Prince’s face people were stunned by it.

Teal didn’t like the look he was seeing. He particularly didn’t like that smile. He had seen that smile several times before and it usually boded ill for whomever had caused it. Glancing at the woman on Conar’s arm, there was no doubt who the culprit was this time.

Thom Loure caught the young Princess’ head turned his way as she walked past him. His thick, bushy black brows shot up as she dipped her head in greeting. He glanced at Storm and Marsh. "Did you see that?" he asked with amazement. "She acknowledged me!"

Marsh snorted. "She’s probably as ugly as you, Loure, and like loves like."

"She can’t be that ugly!" Storm chuckled.

Hern’s angry voice hushed them. "Keep a civil tongue in your mouth, Edan! And that goes for you, too, Jale! That is your future Queen you malign!"

Conar could feel his wrist burning where the braid had been cut away, but he knew the priest had not so much as scratched his flesh. His wife’s hand was near the place where Liza’s braid had been for nearly a year. He glanced down, loss making his eyes turn harder still. He didn’t look at the woman who limped beside him, but he measured his long stride to hers so that her disability would be less noticeable to those who lined the pathway into the narthex.

He slowed his pace as two Temple Guards hurried forward to throw wide the doors leading to the outside. He felt a cold blast of frigid air on his naked chest and shivered, feeling the woman’s hand tighten on his arm.

"Don’t let them keep us long in the courtyard, Your Grace," she whispered. "You will catch your death in this weather."

Conar frowned. Did the froglet think him incapable of knowing when he was cold? He glared at her as she tipped back her head and seemed to be looking him in the eye. "I do not intend to freeze my arse off out there, Madame, you can be sure of that, if nothing else!"

A long sigh came from the veil and the woman turned her head.

The people of Boreas were hovered around burning pots of pitch, shivered under flaming torches, rubbed their hands over the flames of burning candles. Some had come from as far away as Ionary to see the royal Joining of the two greatest royal households. Many had spent days on the road, slept in inns and under wagons, in hay mounds and in stables, to be at this ceremony. Some had even camped out in the soldier’s compound so they would be here this night. Their cheers were excited and anxious as the couple came under the archway of the Temple and poised on the top step.

Taking a deep breath, Conar took his new wife’s arm and held it up so the people could see her marriage bracelet. There was neither inflection in his voice nor expression on his handsome face as he introduced her to them. "I give you the Princess Anya Elizabeth McGregor!" he said, and wished he could give her to them. He sure as hell didn’t want her or know what to do with her.