neck as it had for more than twenty years. He looked
away.
"I want this woman, Jah-Ma-El. I deserve her. She will be a fitting Queen to sit beside me on the throne
of this land. With her dark beauty and my fair, we will be a couple to rival the gods and goddesses. Can
you not see the children she and I will make?"
Jah-Ma-El wanted to tell him that no couple could compare with the one that Conar and Liza made, but
he did not. "Did you ever love him?" Jah-Ma-El asked instead, seeing where Galen’s gaze kept returning.
"Has there ever been any love for him in your heart?"
Galen turned his back on Jah-Ma-El, ignoring the question. "Harm him. Don’t cause permanent damage,
but hurt him enough so he will be out of my way for a time. If she is distraught over him, she will be
careless of her welfare and then my men can take her with ease." He walked to a table and poured a
large amount of brandy into a tumbler. "I will have her, Jah-Ma-El."
With tears streaking down his dirty face, Jah-Ma-El got to his feet and bowed to his master, leaving the
man staring up at the portrait.
Galen lifted the brandy. "To you, my brother. Causing you a little pain is better than causing you death!"
He drained the tumbler and sent it smashing into the fireplace. What had Jah-Ma-El asked? Had he ever
loved Conar? Galen laughed, a sound filled with self-loathing and contempt.
"Aye, Jah-Ma-El, I loved him once. But he never returned that love."
Sitting in his chair, Galen buried his face in his hand and realized the horrendous pain in his head had not
eased.
Not that it mattered. The pain in his heart was far worse.
Chapter 3
Conar’s blond head rested in his wife’s lap as they sat beneath the willow in the garden. Spring had
come early, bringing with it a few overly warm days of sunshine and brisk breezes. The snow had melted
away and the blossoms sprinkled about the flagstone pathway filled the air with a multitude of perfumes.
The water once again flowed in the fountain and the leafy arms overhead sheltered the peaceful, walled-in
garden from the hot sun. The spring equinox was only a few weeks away, but already the blooms about
the garden were heavy on bush and shrub.
"I’m going to the kitchens," Thom called to them from his place beside the library door. "Want
anything?"
"Wine," Conar answered. He watched the tall man slip through the library doors and then glanced at his
lady. "Alone, at last!"
Liza looked uneasily about them. They were never left alone for too long at the time, not since the
incident at the anniversary party and what had happened afterwards. She was accustomed to having a
member of the Elite or one of the palace guards hanging about in the background. She craned her neck
and saw Storm and Marsh sitting at the far end of the garden by the seagate, playing a game of chess.
Ever since their anniversary party four months earlier, several real attempts had been made on Conar’s
life. She was worried. He had become violently ill at the party, having to take to his bed with horrible
stomach cramps that had alarmed Healer Cayn and terrified her.
"I can’t say for sure," Cayn had growled, "but I’d say someone fed him a massive amount of purgative."
"But not poison?" Gerren asked, fear on his face.
Cayn shook his head. His lips pulled back over an angry snarl. "But someone wanted to be
gods-be-damned sure he got as sick as a dog!"
Then there had been the dagger that had come out of nowhere, sailing through the air with a loud
swoosh of deadly intent. Had it not been for Hern’s quick thinking, the blade would have struck Conar in
the back, close to his heart.
"Hasdu!" Hern had yelled at the top of his lungs. "This is a Hasdu weapon!"
A vigorous search of the keep and the surrounding countryside had not turned up a trace of the nomad
assassin who had thrown the deadly missile.
"Do you still think the Hasdu mean you no harm?" the King had yelled at his son.
Conar had not answered,
away.
"I want this woman, Jah-Ma-El. I deserve her. She will be a fitting Queen to sit beside me on the throne
of this land. With her dark beauty and my fair, we will be a couple to rival the gods and goddesses. Can
you not see the children she and I will make?"
Jah-Ma-El wanted to tell him that no couple could compare with the one that Conar and Liza made, but
he did not. "Did you ever love him?" Jah-Ma-El asked instead, seeing where Galen’s gaze kept returning.
"Has there ever been any love for him in your heart?"
Galen turned his back on Jah-Ma-El, ignoring the question. "Harm him. Don’t cause permanent damage,
but hurt him enough so he will be out of my way for a time. If she is distraught over him, she will be
careless of her welfare and then my men can take her with ease." He walked to a table and poured a
large amount of brandy into a tumbler. "I will have her, Jah-Ma-El."
With tears streaking down his dirty face, Jah-Ma-El got to his feet and bowed to his master, leaving the
man staring up at the portrait.
Galen lifted the brandy. "To you, my brother. Causing you a little pain is better than causing you death!"
He drained the tumbler and sent it smashing into the fireplace. What had Jah-Ma-El asked? Had he ever
loved Conar? Galen laughed, a sound filled with self-loathing and contempt.
"Aye, Jah-Ma-El, I loved him once. But he never returned that love."
Sitting in his chair, Galen buried his face in his hand and realized the horrendous pain in his head had not
eased.
Not that it mattered. The pain in his heart was far worse.
Chapter 3
Conar’s blond head rested in his wife’s lap as they sat beneath the willow in the garden. Spring had
come early, bringing with it a few overly warm days of sunshine and brisk breezes. The snow had melted
away and the blossoms sprinkled about the flagstone pathway filled the air with a multitude of perfumes.
The water once again flowed in the fountain and the leafy arms overhead sheltered the peaceful, walled-in
garden from the hot sun. The spring equinox was only a few weeks away, but already the blooms about
the garden were heavy on bush and shrub.
"I’m going to the kitchens," Thom called to them from his place beside the library door. "Want
anything?"
"Wine," Conar answered. He watched the tall man slip through the library doors and then glanced at his
lady. "Alone, at last!"
Liza looked uneasily about them. They were never left alone for too long at the time, not since the
incident at the anniversary party and what had happened afterwards. She was accustomed to having a
member of the Elite or one of the palace guards hanging about in the background. She craned her neck
and saw Storm and Marsh sitting at the far end of the garden by the seagate, playing a game of chess.
Ever since their anniversary party four months earlier, several real attempts had been made on Conar’s
life. She was worried. He had become violently ill at the party, having to take to his bed with horrible
stomach cramps that had alarmed Healer Cayn and terrified her.
"I can’t say for sure," Cayn had growled, "but I’d say someone fed him a massive amount of purgative."
"But not poison?" Gerren asked, fear on his face.
Cayn shook his head. His lips pulled back over an angry snarl. "But someone wanted to be
gods-be-damned sure he got as sick as a dog!"
Then there had been the dagger that had come out of nowhere, sailing through the air with a loud
swoosh of deadly intent. Had it not been for Hern’s quick thinking, the blade would have struck Conar in
the back, close to his heart.
"Hasdu!" Hern had yelled at the top of his lungs. "This is a Hasdu weapon!"
A vigorous search of the keep and the surrounding countryside had not turned up a trace of the nomad
assassin who had thrown the deadly missile.
"Do you still think the Hasdu mean you no harm?" the King had yelled at his son.
Conar had not answered,
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