Comron swung the heavy board at Crausin’s head and knocked him out in one blow. The guard turned at the commotion and tried to signal for help, but Comron struck him hard and removed his com unit. He hesitated just long enough to ensure himself Crausin was still breathing then ascended the stairs to his freedom.
As he stumbled through the corridor, his head was spinning and he trembled uncontrollably. He feared he wouldn’t be able to make it to the hangar to find a transport. He stopped by the empty infirmary and rummaged through till he found some anesthesia and stimulants to dull his pain but keep him awake.
He made his way through the corridors amidst the bedlam and hid himself as servants and castle guards ran for shelter from the bombardment. Finally, he reached the south entry of Northridge Castle and hurried out toward their private hangar. There, he boarded a transport ship and, after deactivating the ship’s tracking device and initiating scanning shields, he laid in the coordinates for Ketherton Sound.
As the transport ascended and he saw the devastation being wrought on Northridge Castle and the surrounding area, Comron was compelled to do something to halt the attack. He accessed Vaush’s pre-recorded message to Laney informing her that she would be another day at the Wenham Habitat assisting the rescue effort for the flood victims. With a time stamp of less than eight hours ago, it should give Ti-Laros a new scent to track in their hunt for Vaush.
The message was off, Comron was certain that Larrs was monitoring all of Vaush’s private communications and would detect this message within seconds. But his body would not give him those additional seconds to see if his theory proved true. The poison acid overwhelmed him and began shutting down his traumatized system. The room spun around him and he fell unconscious to the floor as the transport sped on its way to Ketherton Sound.
CHAPTER 42
Upon hearing the momentous news that a space transport was descending upon the grounds of Ketherton Sound, Vaush convinced Henrik that it had to be his lordship returning and that the order to keep them locked inside had been lifted.
She raced out into the clearing and across the field, fully expecting Comron to come running out to greet her. Gone was the anger and resentment over being confined here. Her only desire now was to throw her arms around him and inquire as to his meeting with Crausin. She hoped against all odds that his early return boded well for their future.
When she came closer, she wondered why Comron hadn’t come out to greet her and why he travelled in a military vessel. She stopped in her tracks. Had she been too presumptuous in assuming it was Comron? What if things had gone just as poorly as she had feared and Crausin had sent his men to capture the Ti-Larosian who dared to seduce his son?
No, that wasn’t likely either considering no armed guards came out to apprehend her. Bewildered, she stood at the bottom of the landing stairs and gazed at the opening. “Comron?”
When no answer came, she trotted up the stairs and into the vessel. It was a stark, utilitarian vessel of gray and black. It had lots of equipment, but little in the way of comfort, quite the opposite of Comron’s luxurious personal cruiser that they’d initially arrived in.
Heading toward the cockpit, she was stunned to find the occupant lying on the floor next to the pilot’s seat wearing soiled clothing. “Comron?” She dropped to his side and turned him over. “Comron!” she screamed at the sight. He’d been severely beaten. His face was so swollen, she wouldn’t have recognized him had he not been wearing his oath medallion and signet ring. His whole body was marked by deep lacerations and dark bruises. A film of dried blood and caked dirt covered him.
“Comron!” She felt for a pulse, it was so faint she feared that he would die in her arms. “Help! Henrik, Frieda, help me!”
Just then she heard someone coming through the doorway.
“M’lady, what is—”
“Henrik, listen to me. We need a physician immediately. His lordship is very badly injured. Make haste!”
Getting a glimpse of Comron, Henrik didn’t hesitate. “Yes, m’Lady.”
“Send for Freida too!” she added, but before he could reply, the young woman popped her head through.
“I’m here, m’Lady.” Frieda squeezed in beside Vaush and gasped, “Gods be merciful, death’s at his door! Does he breathe?”
“Yes, but not for much longer if we don’t get him some help,” Vaush said in her grief. “Do you have any type of medical devices around, any flesh menders?”
Frieda’s brow knitted together in confusion. “Sorry, I don’t know of any such fancy things. But Monne Beichmore has some knowledge of green garden healin’ herbs. I can fetch her.”
“Hurry, he’s very badly off.”
“Yes, m’Lady.” Frieda was already on her feet and heading for the door.
Vaush brushed the matted hair from Comron’s brow and anger filled her breast. Had Crausin meant to kill his son? The beating was so savage and for Comron to be left in this state without receiving any medical attention was barbaric. Surely, he intended Comron to die.
“Oh, my darling,” she cried, “look what he’s done to you.” She tenderly kissed his brow and held him close. “Just hold on, love. I’m going to take care of you.”
***
With Comron washed clean and resting in a warm bed, Vaush contented herself to allow Monne Beichmore to tend to his wounds with her healing herbs while they waited for old Doctor Breckmein.
Vaush couldn’t help wondering if word had reached Ti-Laros by now. With the Duke of Nethic in a mad rage, surely he’d wasted no time informing Larrs of his daughter’s egregious conduct. Her guilt grew more profound. She owed her family some type of explanation for her seemingly callous and treasonous behavior. She had to make them understand that they were very much in love and ….
She sighed heavily. Comron was right; the wound was far too fresh for them to see their relationship in any kind of favorable light. For the near future, she was a despicable traitor who had sold herself cheap to Van Laven wolves.
She would endure that for the joy of being with Comron, but she couldn’t bear to have Laney think that of her a moment longer. She’d given her word to Comron that she would not communicate with anyone until he returned. She glanced at him and chewed her lip as she considered her predicament.
Technically, I’ve kept my word.
If she scrambled the communication signal, as Laney had taught her to, no one could triangulate their position. She’d be brief and wouldn’t disclose their location.
She rose from Comron’s bedside. “Monne Biechmore, I will return in one quarter of an hour,” she said to the woman as she applied more elixir to Comron’s wounds.
“Can I be of help, m’Lady?” Frieda asked, rising with Vaush.
“Stay here and assist Monne Beichmore. I won’t be but a moment,” Vaush said tersely, wanting no witnesses to her communication. She slipped out of the room, down the stairs and was soon racing across the rocky field where the Nethicaen transport waited.
She climbed into the cockpit and took a minute to familiarize herself with the controls before opening a scrambled communication signal to Laney’s personal com device.
Laney’s face appeared on the view screen, her skin was flush, perspiration dotted her forehead and her auburn hair was pulled back into her signature ponytail. She was moving on foot through some heavily wooded area.
“Damn you, Vaush! Delia, Shian, and Kep are all dead. Half your personal guard are dead, or does that even matter to you anymore?”
“What are you talking about,” Vaush gasped in horror. “What happened?”
“Your father had them executed for gross dereliction of duty! See what your little harmless stunt has cost them.”
“No, please, Laney,” Vaush implored, “I can’t believe he’d do that.”
“I’d be dead too if I hadn’t been on medical leave at the time and been tipped off to leave Gosselton Heights.” She jumped over some object and was jogging now. “But holy shite, I had no ide
a he’d turn completely psychotic over your disappearance. He killed them, Vaush, he bleedin’ killed them!”
“Seven hells, I’m so sorry, I never thought … damn it!” she said infuriated about all she hadn’t thought about when embarking on the relationship with Comron.
“And that’s not all Vaush. Kraiten in the sea, I don’t know what the hell is going on but your father just mobilized two thirds of the Ti-Larosian fleet and is attacking Nethic.”
Vaush’s head began to throb. Dear God, Comron, what have we done!
“What in heaven’s name for?” She had to find out how much Laney already knew.
“Bloody hell if I know,” she glanced over her shoulder. “I’m just trying to keep myself alive. Larrs wants your whole guard dead.”
“Look, Laney, you get somewhere safe and lay low until I can send help.”
“What kind of help?” Laney snapped, hunkering down. “I’m being hunted by the Ti-Larosian authorities. There’s no one you can call to help me. I’m fucked proper.”
“I’ll think of something,” but even as Vaush said the words she knew Laney was right. Who could she turn to? Her father’s men were the ones hunting Laney and Comron’s father had nearly beaten him to death for having anything to do with Ti-Laros.
“I hope whatever you had to go do was worth it,” she said in a cold, biting tone.
Vaush dropped her head in her hands and pressed her fingers to her temples. “This is all my fault, not just my guard, but the war with Nethic.”
“Yeah, well, I’m a little too preoccupied to attend your pity party.” Laney sprung up and was on the move again.
“Laney, you were right all along, this whole thing was over a man. He’s here with me now.” Vaush closed her eyes and blurted out, “It’s Lord Comron Van Laven.”
The news brought Laney to a dead stop. Her face burned a deeper shade of red as she glared at Vaush. “What the hell did you just say?”
Vaush swallowed in a dry throat. “It was during our time on Patheis, in the midst of our struggle to survive, we fell in love … only I refused to see him unless he called off his betrothal and the only way to—”
“He’s a fucking Nethicaen!” Her face contorted in disgust, “You’re letting Van Laven’s own putrid spawn touch you? What the hell are you thinking, Vaush?”
“Laney, he’s not what—”
“You realize our friends died just so you could bed that rat-faced shite bag!”
Vaush had never seen Laney so livid in her life. It had to be her grief speaking. “I’ll never forgive myself for what happened to them. I just never thought Larrs would do something so heinous.”
“No, no, why would he? It’s not like his daughter got caught with her hands down the pants of a Nethicaen crag. How in the blessed frake did you think this was all going to turn out?” she railed. “And the rank bastard’s probably having a good laugh telling his father what a great lay you were.”
Vaush’s mouth drew into a firm line, what she would not tolerate from her subordinates she would humbly suffer from a grieving friend. “I know that you’re very angry with me and you have every right to be. But you couldn’t be more wrong about Comron. He went to his father just this morning to confess his love for me and when Crausin heard the news, he went stark raving mad and tried to kill Comron. He barely escaped with his life.”
“Frithe’s bitch! Then both of you are completely bent for thinking you could drop a mill shell like this on them without blowing it all to bits. Thanks to you, our friends are dead, and we’ve got a bloody war on our hands!”
“Think about it, Laney. This war doesn’t make sense,” Vaush argued. “So I’m a traitor, I’m Van Laven’s whore, whatever you care to call me. But it doesn’t follow that Larrs should take Ti-Laros to war over my transgression. He’s too shrewd and pragmatic a leader to make such an impulsive, ill-conceived move.”
Laney sighed heavily and closed her eyes. “Who can begin to understand the male ego? Especially when it’s the size of a baggon tanker. I’m just tired and …,” she shook her head sharply. “They’re gone, Vaush. He slit their damn throats like they were nothing.”
“Laney, I’m so sorry. I wish I …,” she rubbed her eyes, suddenly exhausted. Wish what? That she’d never met Comron? Never saved his life? “Please, just get somewhere safe. I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you too.”
Laney’s brown eyes narrowed. “Given the absence of bombardment, I assume you’re not on Nethic with … with him.”
“No, we’ve gone into hiding. Comron still hasn’t regained consciousness, but when he comes to, we’ll do whatever we must to put an end to this war.”
“Kraiten in the sea, Vaush, after this you’ll never be able to set foot on Ti-Laros again. For that matter, neither will I.”
“I made my choice, but you didn’t deserve any of this. None of you did. I’m going to make this right somehow. And I pray that in time, if you can get past your anger toward me, you’ll consent to call yourself my friend once more.”
The hard look in Laney’s eyes disheartened Vaush. “Are you planning to keep on with the Van Laven?”
Vaush bit her lip, now was not the time to inform Laney that she was legally bound to House Van Laven. “I love him, Laney.”
Laney rolled her eyes, but her expression softened a degree as she kicked a clump of dirt. “We’ll see where all the pieces fall once this skirmish ends.”
It was the closest her friend would come to admitting that their friendship could endure the crucible. Vaush took courage from this. “Very well. Take care of yourself, dear friend.”
Laney gave her an inscrutable look and then blinked off the screen.
CHAPTER 43
The pain jolted Comron from his slumber and his eyes blinked open, to find an elderly man hovering over him, pressing down upon his right arm. The smell of eucalyptus and clove filled the air, punctuated by a pungent odor.
“He’s coming to,” said the frizzy, white-haired man.
“Oh, thank heavens,” came the soft familiar voice. He turned to find Vaush smiling down at him. “I was so worried, love.”
He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound would come from his parched throat.
“Water, please,” Vaush said to Monne Beichmore.
His whole body ached. He could still see the red stripes crisscrossing his chest and shoulders. He groaned when Vaush lifted his head to drink. His mind was quickly clearing—Nethic was under attack, Vaush had yet to learn the truth of her identity, and they had to reach Novoxos before the wolves closed in.
Fighting past his pain, he forced himself to sit up on an elbow.
“Careful, my lord, you need your rest,” said the old man, trying to press him back down.
“Vaush, we need to talk,” Comron said, brushing his hand away.
She glanced around at the servants. “Please leave us.”
“My lady, he needs to—”
“I’ll look after him,” Vaush said. “Now go.”
The moment they were gone, Vaush’s voice was strained, “We’ve started a war, Comron. We’ve got to do something to stop it.”
“This war isn’t about us,” he said, sitting up completely. “It’s about you.”
“What? My besmirched honor?” she scoffed. “Thousands of innocent people are going to die. I must speak with my father to end this madness.”
“Not before you hear what I have to tell you.” He took a deep breath and grabbed his ribs in pain.
“Careful, darling. The medical technology here is appalling. We’ll seek proper care the moment we leave this place.”
The frustration and anguish boiled up in him with all the uncertainty and mounting obstacles. “Larrs Bastionli is not your biological father,” he announced.
Her expression registered shock then mild amusement. “What exactly did Monne Beichmore put in those healing pouches?”
“Vaush, this war isn’t being fought over some old vendetta. It’s about the fact t
hat you are Emperor Sorren Hrollaugr’s daughter.”
She looked askance at him. “Comron, you’re obviously not well.” She attempted to feel his brow.
“Listen to me!” he said, grabbing her hand. “Hear the whole story and then decide if it’s a fevered delusion.”
She gave him a sad smile and sat next to him. “All right, let’s hear it.”
He wondered if this would be the last time she’d look at him with eyes filled with love and tenderness. No matter, he’d put this off for far too long.
“About twenty-five years ago, a talented linguist by the name of Skylar Payce Erlacher found herself in the employ of the imperial court as an interpreter. Skylar was as beautiful as she was eloquent and charming. It wasn’t long before she captured the eye of Emperor Sorren. He fell so deeply in love with her that when she refused his offer to become a secondary wife, he elevated her to principal wife and consort, making any children she bore him first in line to the imperial throne.
“Needless to say, Calista Nostrom, the emperor’s former principal wife, hated Skylar intensely. Not only had she supplanted Calista’s position as first wife, she also threatened her son, Thalonius’ claim as Sorren’s heir.
“A few months into their marriage, Skylar became pregnant with Sorren’s child. This news drove Calista mad and she began plotting to murder Skylar before she gave birth. But on the eve of the murder, the plan was uncovered by one of the emperor’s Generals Elite, who also happened to be Skylar’s father. Fearing for his daughter’s life, the general arranged for her to be removed from Novoxos and hidden away until he could be certain her life was no longer in danger.
“Only something went horribly wrong. Her transport was intercepted by a small band of mercenaries. It was widely reported that everyone on board was killed. Upon hearing the news, Sorren had Calista executed.
“It is now evident as to who was really responsible for the attack on Skylar’s transport. Somehow, Larrs must have learned of the situation and taken advantage of it. We believe he kidnapped Skylar and held her captive until she gave birth. Most likely, he had her murdered to keep his secret hidden while he raised the emperor’s child as his own. Obviously, that child was you, Vaush.” He inclined his head. “And that is the true reason Larrs has gone to war with Nethic, to win back the emperor’s daughter.”