Hostage by Cheryl Headford Page B

know and love, the strong man I can respect. Make no mistake, Rowan, what we are doing to him is wrong on so many levels. He doesn’t deserve it.”
    “Then stop.”
    “I’m afraid I can’t. My liege’s commands were quite clear. For at least three days, you and Astrin must spend time together, speaking to each other. Go now, Rowan, have dinner and spend the evening relaxing, doing something you really enjoy. Come back tomorrow at ten. I hope by then Astrin will be easier to control and will also be physically stronger so you can walk with him in the gardens.”
    “In the gardens? What’s interesting there?”
    “Then take him somewhere more interesting.”
    “Like where? It’s not as if there is anywhere in the palace that’s exciting.”
    “What about the games room? You can play something with him.”
    “Play? With him? Like that? No.”
    “Improvise, Rowan.” Ragnor was clearly getting irritated, and he gently but firmly steered Rowan out of the room, closing the door behind him.
    As the day drew to a close, Rowan began to feel uneasy. He was well aware Astrin was going through something bad tonight, and that it was because of him. He was also uneasy about what would happen when he fell asleep, knowing he was going to have that dream again.
    After dinner he went down to the gym and worked out as hard as he could. Stripping off his clothes down to his underpants, he threw himself harder and harder into the exercises until he was so exhausted that he could barely drag himself back to his room.
    Once there he took a quick shower and, without even drying, collapsed onto the bed and fell into a deep sleep.
    Rowan was deep in a dreamless sleep when the pictures began to play across his mind. At first they were gentle—memories of a more innocent time, when he’d been a child, playing in the gardens, hiding behind his sister’s skirts when visitors came, running after his uncle, and watching Ragnor work. Then, the child in the garden was older and his wanderings were less aimless and more sober. The steps dragged and tears ran from his eyes. He was lost—in more ways than one—lost.
    But then there was someone with him, someone with pale hair and clear green eyes, someone who walked close beside him and rested his head on Rowan’s shoulder. Together, they walked toward the pool at the center of the formal garden. But suddenly an explosion rent the peace and they went tumbling back, seared by the blast. There were flames and pieces of twisted metal everywhere. Someone was in the middle of the flames, someone important, very important. He had to go to them. He had to rescue them.
    Flinging himself forward, he reached his hands into the flames, reaching for them, reaching for… for…. The pain was unbelievable—the pain in his hands—in his head. Astrin screamed, and his voice was so close.
    “Don’t go. I need you, Rowan. I need you. Please save me… save me… save me….”
    Rowan sat bolt upright, shivering, with the echoes of the scream, the heartrending plea. “ Save me… save me. ”
    For the first time ever, Rowan woke from the dream of burning metal thinking of someone other than his parents. Pale rays of predawn light were shining through his window, and he knew he’d not be able to go back to sleep. He was strangely restless and couldn’t even wait to dress, simply throwing on a pair of lounge pants before stepping out into the cool morning. The air was full of the sound of birds. Everything was still, cool, and fresh.
    Rowan found his feet leading him toward the garden. He started to walk toward the central pool, but something was wrong, something was missing. He shivered and retraced his steps. It was strange, but suddenly he wanted to see Astrin. Once he’d allowed himself to acknowledge the thought, which had, in fact, been lingering in the back of his mind since he’d first opened his eyes, he became determined.
    When he got to Astrin’s room, there was no one there. Rowan was