Chapter 22

After confronting Taeron about the dragon, Sharisse avoided him throughout the day, and evening was now approaching. Since he had told the men to meet him at Mordrad's training arena, he was headed there now when he saw Amyr exit the healer's cottage further down the lane. The beautiful woman paused in the doorway, leaning against the frame with a smile on her lips as she watched him leave. Quynn had returned earlier with Yori and they went to her cottage without inquiring of Amyr who was, according to Calabrian tradition, her husband although the healer had broken their blood bond. Taeron had mixed feelings about his sister and his prince. Once he thought he knew what was right and what was wrong, but now he was not so sure. Between his sister and those females from Teralon, he felt as if his world had been suddenly tilted and he was frequently disoriented.

"There you are brother!" He turned his attention away from Amyr to watch Stryfe approach with his ambling gait that no one would mistake for a warrior's stride. "I was hoping you could give me some details about what transpired in that trance. The emperor would be beside himself to hear about a dragon breathing fire on you."

"Where did you hear that nonsense?" asked Taeron. He remembered stepping into the trance, even facing the dragon, but his memory was hazy about what happened after the dragon loomed over him as the harbinger of his doom. Surely if the dragon had breathed on him, he would not be standing there now.

"Yori told me. He said something about golden white light and paladins."

"What is a paladin?"

"A righteous, holy warrior," Stryfe told him.

"What is righteous about a man lying about his identity?" scoffed Amyr when he reached them. His gaze passed over Stryfe and his nose wrinkled in distaste. "You smell of inks."

"I had a lot to write about today. The emperor is going to want to know exactly how you reacted to finding out you have a son and that you grossly insulted your own child. Who are you to judge my brother? If he needs more time to get to know the woman he is marrying, then you can hardly blame him when you made such an imperial mess of your own courtship and supposed marriage."

"If he were making any attempt to know the princess, I might agree with you, scribe, but I have only seen him seducing her sister."

Taeron wanted to strike Amyr, something he felt too often. Perhaps he would soon have the chance to work out his anger and frustration during training. "Come, there is much work to do." And he was so eager to get to it he almost rubbed his fist in anticipation. Of course he would not be able to strike Amyr as he wished, but he could remember how good it felt. More behaviors of his father's people should be adopted on Calabria, especially this one. It could become as widely accepted as kissing.

He walked ahead of the prince while Stryfe fell into step beside Amyr. Taeron resented Amyr, first for ogling Sharisse as if she were one of his clinging females, then for spending the day with the healer. Bringing up either grievance would do no good because Amyr would do whatever Amyr wished to do no matter who he hurt or dishonored. Amyr had surely been feigning interest in Sharisse to anger Taeron and like a fool he had almost risen to the bait. He wasn't ready to reveal his identity, especially after Princess Dijana had offered her sister to Amyr for his amusement. At that moment he had wanted to wrap his fingers around her slender, elegant neck. How could he ever make his house with that gods' cursed female?

As for Amyr's behavior with the healer, Taeron had never heard of a bond being broken so he had no precedent with which to guide his actions. His sister did not seem heartbroken about the termination of their bond, and until he had a chance to discuss the matter with her, he had no reason to defend the honor of his father's house nor that of the emperor. Quynn and Amyr had been victim's of Staefyn's scheming although Taeron doubted Staefyn could have predicted this outcome.

Taeron had every intention of returning to Calabria with the crown prince, not just alive and bringing with him an heir, but as a worthy leader of warriors. Unfortunately, Taeron realized quickly into the training by the waning light of Norvana's sun, that the task would be difficult. When they were younger, Amyr had often slipped away from the imperial masters while Taeron worked diligently to learn all that they could teach him. As Taeron practiced over and over again the moves the masters had taught, Amyr had been either dozing from long nights spent with some female or in pursuit of another. Taeron was appalled to see that even his human brother was better trained than Amyr. After years of fighting like a butcher instead of an imperial warrior, Amyr had forgotten what little he had once learned. While the other Calabrians captured by the Varoonyans gained them a high price in the markets, Amyr had been purchased for a pittance and sent into the arena with other expendable creatures. Only the gods knew why they had spared his life for so many years.

As Taeron instructed Amyr again and again on even the most rudimentary moves, the other Calabrians watched with disgust. To Amyr's credit, he listened and for once in his life made no attempt to escape to seek the comfort of the healer's bed. He even tried with limited success to be more humble although after losing a sparring match to Stryfe, he threw down his sword in disgust which provoked gasps and shouts of outrage that the sword of the crown prince of Calabria lay in the filth of the yard.

Even Taeron was overwhelmed with emotion by what he had done and before Amyr could pick it up, Taeron snatched it, then grabbed a handful of Amyr's tunic, dragging him out of hearing of the men. He jerked him close until they were nose to nose. "Never do that again!"

"It is a sword," Amyr reminded him flippantly.

"And if you were not so selfish and dishonorable, you would realize how much you offended your own men!" Releasing him so abruptly that Amyr stumbled back, Taeron held the sword before him, trembling with the anger he felt for Amyr's irreverence. "This is the sword that has taken the life of more than one emperor to begin a new reign. This is the sword that your father wielded to subdue Zeno to end the old ways and bring in a new era of peace and prosperity." Taeron swallowed back the tears that threatened to overwhelm him. "Your father gave this sword to your mother to show her how much he loved her when he dared not speak the words and it was in this sword that Dax bound your father's soul. I was honored to use this sword in your name to free the Varoonyans from their despicable overlords. If you cannot respect this sword, then why should you hold it in your hand?"

Amyr opened his mouth to speak, but he must have thought better of whatever stupid remark he was about to make because he bowed his head instead. "You are right, Taeron."

"What were you going to say?" asked Taeron furiously. "Were you going to tell me to shut my mouth and remember my place?"

The prince reached out and put his hand on his shoulder, surprising Taeron. "Are you sure that you do not have Guerani blood? That is exactly what I was going to say, but then I realized that it is I who does not know his place. Perhaps you could continue to remind me? But not with your fists?"

Had Amyr read his thoughts earlier? Although he had admitted to having Guerani powers, Taeron had seen no proof of it. Stryfe thought it might be because he was too far away from the sacred hills, that he had been cut off from the ancestors too soon after coming into his powers. "I will be unable to keep anything from you any more."

Amyr sighed and his lips flattened into a grim line. "I will apologize to the men." Taking the sword, he raised it so that the light from the single moon glinted off the blade. "I will never be able to match you because I have wasted the best years of my training, but I will endeavor not to shame you." Before Taeron could respond, Amyr went to the men to ask their forgiveness.

If the men were satisfied with Amyr's apology, Taeron did not know, but they continued on with the training after Amyr faced them with his head bowed and hands held out to them in supplication. Taeron was surprised that Amyr even knew all the forms of begging that he had shown in the last few days. Then again, he had probably been on the receiving end more than once.

When it grew later, torches were lit so that the men could see as they sparred with each other, practicing the moves that Taeron showed them. He enjoyed this work and had been called on to do so by the imperial masters. If he had not become Amyr's imperial guard, Taeron had hoped to continue teaching the young recruits sent to the imperial city to learn from the emperor's masters. Now that he was a warlord, his responsibilities would not give him time to train others.

A few of Mordrad's men had gathered to watch the Calabrians and eventually Mordrad joined them and after observing for several moments, he climbed over the fence ringing the practice field. After demonstrating a move for the men, Taeron turned to find the older man waiting with a long sword in his hand.

"Would you humor me, Lord Taeron? I have witnessed you in action and heard much of your prowess and I would be honored to have the opportunity to face you."

Although he had no reason to distrust Mordrad, Taeron sensed a motive other than curiosity behind his request. But Mordrad would pose more of a challenge than the Calabrians because Taeron knew nothing about his fighting style, so he nodded and drew his sword. There was a flurry of betting going on between Mordrad's men and the Calabrians, but he ignored them as he took a stance to face the hunter lord.

Mordrad's men seemed to have a lot of confidence in his skill, but once they started fighting, Taeron easily identified his weaknesses. The older man was slower, he dropped his guard frequently, but Taeron prolonged the fight so that he could get a workout. When he was sure that Mordrad would end the match because he knew that Taeron was giving him a chance to retain his honor, the other man must have signaled to his men because suddenly they charged at Taeron with swords in their hands. Without missing a beat, Taeron leaped into the air, and after flipping twice, he came down behind the attacking men.

The Calabrians growled with anger at Mordrad's dishonorable actions, but Taeron threw out a hand to stop them from joining the fight. Before Mordrad's men had a chance to recover, Taeron raced through them, tapping them with the flat of his sword on parts of the body that would have been mortal wounds had he been using the sharp edge of his blade. Mordrad signaled in another direction and Taeron leaped into the air again, sensing the approach of projectiles which he deflected as he twirled his sword, twisting his body in the air to avoid bolts from another direction. When he came down, he rolled in the dirt and came up with the point of his sword directly against Mordrad's chest.

The other man stared down at him incredulously. "You do not disappoint me. I doubt there is anything that can stop you."

"I can think of something," announced Amyr with a smirk, nodding his head behind Taeron who turned to see that Sharisse was approaching. She was still too far away for her to have seen what he had done, so he stood and passed his sword to Stryfe.

Throwing back his head in laughter, Mordrad put his hand on Taeron's shoulder as he walked past him. "One single female can be more daunting than an army."

"I am not frightened of the female,"he denied hotly. But when Sharisse was standing beside him, he seemed to lose all ability to speak. His heart started to beat faster than when he was fighting Mordrad's squad, and the sudden heat flooding his body made a bead of sweat roll from his forehead to drip into his eye, stinging it and making him blink rapidly.

Once his vision cleared he could see that she was frowning at him. He surely looked as foolish as he felt. "Is Lord Taeron training you?"

"Who else would undertake such a task?" Stryfe clamped his hand on Taeron's shoulder. "I have been providing the prince with some exercise as well."

She gave Amyr a dismissive look although Amyr was assessing her with the same perusal of her body that had irritated Taeron earlier. Any other female would have picked up on Amyr's interest and readily offered herself for his pleasure, but Sharisse looked at him as if he were dung on the bottom of her boot. Amyr only wanted to irritate him, and he had succeeded even though Taeron knew that he should not have proprietary feelings for Sharisse when he had already given an oath to marry her sister. That female at least had the sense not to walk about in the night without a male to protect her.

"Lady Sharisse, you should not have come to the practice field alone at this hour," scolded Mordrad who seemed to be irritated that her arrival ended any further exhibitions by Taeron.

Sharisse curled her lip. "Lord Mordrad, I go where I please when I please. I inquired at the castle of the scribe's whereabouts and was directed here."

"You have need of my scribe?" asked Amyr with a frown. "Just what would you need him for?"

"I would speak to him alone," she told Amyr, lifting her chin defiantly. As she stared at Amyr, daring to meet his gaze unwavering, Taeron studied her face. She seemed to have a little more color now which he attributed to her feeding from his blood. The soldiers on Varoonya had needed a steady supply of blood and often tried to feed upon their attackers to boost their strength so Taeron made sure that his men learned defenses to throw back the Varoonyans and to retreat quickly if injured because a Varoonyan overlord's soldier could drain a man quickly. He wondered if she needed to feed again, and his pulse began to race with eagerness. By the gods! He should not be looking forward to it, but the act gave him more pleasure than any female ever had.

"I will accompany him," Amyr finally said, snapping Taeron from dizzying thoughts of her mouth sucking blood from his body.

"I wish to have a private conversation with him," she said with a shake of her head. Taeron hoped she did not notice how her demand had affected him.

"You may not speak with the imperial scribe without me present." Taeron wondered why he was insisting on the stipulation and he was becoming annoyed that Amyr was keeping her from him.

Amyr and Sharisse stared at each other, oblivious to the avid spectators, the whispers that Taeron guessed were bets being placed on the outcome. At the moment, he wanted to bet she might cause Amyr an injury that would make him think twice about crossing her, but she finally gave a slight, regal nod, then grasped Taeron's arm to drag him away from the other men.

"Come with me," she said gruffly. "I wish to speak to you on an important matter away from prying ears." She glanced over her shoulder at Stryfe who was swiping his sword, practicing the moves that Taeron had shown him earlier. "If that is what he is teaching you, you have nothing to learn from him." She snorted. "Hero of Varoonya?"

"He is a leader of men," Taeron told her to cover for his brother's woeful appearance, then changed the subject to distract her. "Do you need to feed?"

To his disappointment she shook her head. "Not for several days. It is an infrequent annoyance."

"Where are we going?" he asked as he allowed her to drag him away from the lighted arena into a darker area near the castle.

"There is a garden this way," she told him. "I have discovered a quiet place where we may speak."

"And I have discovered that dark gardens are bad places to be," grunted Amyr from a few feet behind them.

If Amyr thought he was being amusing, Taeron turned to give him a scathing glare and hoped Amyr remembered how his fists had felt after the night his sister caught him with another woman handling the imperial assets.

"Shut up, princeling," snapped Sharisse. "You have forced me to accept your intrusion on our privacy, but I do not have to listen to you."

"I am the crown prince of Calabria," Amyr reminded her stiffly.

"Staefyn is the crown prince of Calabria," she retorted. "You are a walking corpse."

Amyr faltered in his steps and Sharisse took the opportunity to hurry Taeron away. Her brutal honesty seemed to have affected him. Amyr could hardly expect to return to Calabria and resume his life as it was. In the first place, he had to resolve his relationship with Quynn. He may not have asked for the bond between them to be broken, and yet it had which was unheard of on Calabria. Even if his detractors among the nobility could look beyond that, they certainly would not see him as blameless for the child that had been produced from a female to whom he was not bonded. Even Taeron wanted to pommel him until he was a pile of lifeless meat at his feet even though he knew the circumstances. Who would believe Staefyn had engineered that disgrace when all of Amyr's life up to that point seemed to be training for just such a catastrophe?

Sharisse came to a stop before a small pond where there was a bench and she pushed Taeron onto the bench, but she turned away and stared at the glistening dark waters for a moment as if she were working up the courage to speak. Taeron wanted to reach out to take her hand, to draw her onto the bench with him to comfort her when he could sense her anxiety, but sensed she would reject his kindness, so he waited patiently for her to speak.

Finally she turned to face him. "You are the imperial scribe as well as the brother of Lord Taeron. I want to hear your opinion of a matter that personally affects your brother as well as the future of relations between Calabria and Teralon."

"Intriguing." Amyr had caught up and was skulking in the shadows.

Taeron wondered if just thinking about how angry he was at him for belittling Sharisse would reach Amyr. He could not be sure that Amyr had read his thoughts, but he heard Amyr retreat to a more respectful distance. "He is gone," Taeron told her gently. "I would listen to what you have to say."

"He is insufferable," she snapped irritably. Since he agreed, he had nothing to add and certainly no defense. She fell silent and he had to wait several moments before she worked up the courage to speak. "I wanted to know if you might have insight into the consequences if my sister, Princess Dijana, were to reject your brother, Lord Taeron."

Reject him? Taeron should not feel so happy about being rejected. He was annoyed to realize he knew little about the agreement with Teralon except that he had been forced into a marriage he could no longer countenance. Princess Dijana was a horrible female that could give Amyr lessons on being conceited and arrogant. He could not, would not mate with that Teralonian bitch.

"I had not noticed that she did not enjoy my brother's company." Taeron did not blame Stryfe for ignoring her by preferring the company of his scrolls and inkpot that day. Given the choice, he would do the same and he could not even read or write.

Sharisse was twisting her hands together nervously. "The reasons are complicated."

Taeron thought about that for a moment and came to the only conclusion he could draw. "Does she have feelings for another man? Was she forced into the match? Because I doubt the emperor would hold her to a vow made under duress."

"She has no feelings for your brother. She would not, could not,..." She fell silent again and he knew what she meant. "How could this match be broken?" she asked him earnestly.

Before Taeron could speak, Amyr slipped out of the shadows. "You plead well for your sister," he said suspiciously. "Why is she not here speaking for herself? Has she brought this up to Lord Taeron?"

Sharisse did not respond to his questions, nor did she snap at Amyr. Her question seemed to disturb her greatly, and now, facing the undead crowned prince, she must realize that breaking the marriage vow would be very difficult. Taeron intended to ask Stryfe how angry the emperor would be should he refuse to take Princess Dijana as his wife.

Amyr did not give her a chance to speak. "Return to your sister and tell her that refusing to marry Lord Taeron would be a grave insult to the emperor. Remind her exactly to whom her people owe their gratitude for their freedom. If she has to grit her teeth and close her eyes tightly to pretend he is someone else whenever he touches her, then she should begin practicing now."

Taeron clenched his fists, wanting very much to strike him, and when Sharisse raised a hand to do as he wanted, his heart seemed to stop in his chest as he knew he must stop her from touching him. But she dropped it to her side and she raised her chin. "I remember who saved Teralon, and I know exactly when it happened because I was there, and I, more than any other, have reason to be thankful to Lord Taeron. Where were you?" Turning on her heel she stomped away.

Taeron would have followed her, to hold her in his arms to comfort her, but Amyr clamped a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back down on the bench. "Let her go."

"I know what you are going to say," Taeron said before Amyr could have a chance. "I must end this farce and claim my bride."

Amyr chuckled and patted Taeron's cheek. "I have changed my mind. You do not have Guerani blood. I was going to tell you that those Teralonian females have secrets and before you bond with either of them, blood sucking not withstanding, you must discover what they are. Perhaps your brother has some insight since he has been romancing the bride."

Predictably they found Stryfe in Amyr's chambers at the castle where he was scribbling on a scroll. He did not even look up when they came in because he was so intent in his work. Amyr cleared his throat to get his attention and when that failed, he crossed the room and was about to put his hand on his shoulder when Stryfe said, "Let me finish this one sentence. It has to do with how utterly incompetent you were this evening."

"Perhaps I should spill ink over it," suggested Amyr with a mirthless smile.

Stryfe set aside the quill he had been using to scratch the symbols the emperor would read. "Try it, princeling, and the emperor's report will be embellished even more than it is."

"Why are you using ink? Are there no better ways to record events for the archives?" Amyr bent over the table on which Stryfe had spread the vellum he used to write. Taeron joined them and stood marveling the work his brother had done. Yet he had no desire to tax himself with the effort of reading it.

"I will use more conventional methods when I return, but your father likes these scrolls better, and they are considered the official account. They cannot be changed as easily as a digital copy." He raised a brow. "I doubt you came here to get a lesson on what I do. You cannot even read this. Either of you."

"You could teach me," suggested Amyr. "One day I will have to be able to read them."

"You are assuming quite a bit, princeling. First, we have to get off this planet and then we have to find our way back to Calabrian space. And once we get there, we don't know what we will find. Staefyn must have a plan or he would not have made his move by eliminating Taeron."

"Or he acted rashly, using Taeron's wedding as an excuse."

Taeron shook his head. "Staefyn suggested it to your father. He must have it planned to the last detail, so my brother is right. We do not know what may have happened."

"You have not been gone long," Amyr commented.

"Not a dozen passings of the suns," Taeron agreed. "Staefyn was on his way to Varoonya and must return to Calabria before he can take any action."

Amyr shook his head. "We have a more immediate problem. Scribe, what have you done to the princess to make her wish to reject Taeron?"

"Me?" Stryfe shrugged. "I have done nothing."

"Why have you ceased to spend time with her?" demanded Amyr without letting Taeron speak.

"Well, I thought the purpose of my spending time with her was to get to know her. And I know her well enough." Stryfe looked at Taeron. "Sorry to be the one to tell you, brother, but she is like cotton candy, sweet and fluffly with no substance and too much makes you sick."

"She must think the same of you," said Amyr with a chuckle.

Stryfe frowned. "Hey, I am a clever guy. And not lacking in the looks department either, but she doesn't seem to have any interest." He nibbled at the end of the quill in his hand for a moment and it looked as if he wanted to say something, but he shook his head. "Princess Dijana is not at all as I would have expected."

Taeron leaned towards his brother. "Are you keeping something from me? Do you know why the emperor forced such an oath from me?"

His brother met his gaze. "Would you wish for me to break my own oath?"

So Stryfe had information about Teralon that he was under oath to the emperor to keep from Taeron! Why would Trey do that to him? Had he not proven his loyalty? The emperor was like a father to him, had been the man to stand in for Lord Duo when presenting him for imperial training, had been at his side when he received his sword from Lady Arora's hands. Why was he forcing him to marry Princess Dijana?

Amyr looked between them, then he shook his head. "Something is not right on that planet."

Taeron frowned at Stryfe as he came to a realization. "You didn't just come with me to write the report of my marriage to the princess."

Stryfe shrugged. "The emperor wants more information, but I don't think we are going to get any from those two women. I don't trust the princess and her sister is messed up. Don't let them know who you are, Taeron. You might be able to get Sharisse to trust you."

"I agree," said Amyr with a nod. "When we return, you will go to Teralon and insist upon a reasonable amount of time to get to know the woman with whom you will begin your house. In the meantime, we can find out what they are hiding."

We? Was Amyr offering to help him? Had Amyr ever offered to help him with anything?

"If they refuse to let you land on Teralon as they refused when you went for your wedding, then you can return to Calabria without a bride and the emperor can decide on whatever course of action he will take against a planet that owes not just him, but you, for its freedom."

Taeron did not like using Sharisse to glean information about her people, especially when she had been used before, but he had no choice. Stryfe knew what he was talking about and if the emperor had confided in him and had gone as far as sending Stryfe as a spy, then he was concerned about the place that Teralon had in his empire, especially when his daughter and grandson were on the planet.