but Liza had seen the concern flitting across his face.
Two days later, the cinch of Conar’s saddle had been cut. As he raced du Mer’s new gelding across the
training field, the cinch had let go and Conar slid with a painful crash to the hard-packed ground, the
wind knocked from him, his left arm twisting awkwardly beneath him.
"Is it broken?" Teal had asked as he leapt from his own mount to kneel beside his friend.
"Bruised and scraped all to hell," Conar said, wincing as he sat up. "Sprained, maybe, but not broken."
"You could have broken your neck with a fall like that."
Conar looked at Seayearner, his huge black steed standing a few feet away, grazing with contentment on
the tall field grass. "Aye, that I could," he answered softly. He looked back at Teal. "Maybe I was meant
to."
And only a few hours after Conar and Teal returned to the keep, Conar limping, Teal looking sorely
embarrassed, the young Prince had come down with a violent fit of vomiting, gagging so violently, Cayn
had feared this time he truly had been poisoned.
"What did he drink?" Legion had shouted at the cook as he grabbed her and spun her to face him.
"Storm said he saw you give him something!"
"I gave him some lemonade," Sadie shouted back. "You accusing me of giving the man something to hurt
him?"
Liza stepped between the two of them. "Of course, not, Sadie. We know you’d never do anything to
hurt His Grace."
"He was given something!" Hern snarled. "The boy’s sicker than a drunk weasel!"
"I don’t know what it was that he ingested," Cayn told them all that night. "Whatever it was, it was meant
to put him in his bed and it has."
"From now on, I want three men watching him every minute!" the King ordered. He turned to Legion.
"Don’t let him out of your sight!"
Now, Liza watched him as carefully as Legion, Teal, Hern, Thom, Storm, and Marsh. Having the two
Elite near as they sat in the garden made her less anxious, but she would just have soon had Thom there
as well.
"Liza?"
She jumped, her gaze going to her husband. "Aye, Milord?"
"Don’t you want to be alone with me?" he asked in a hurt, little boy’s voice.
"Is that why you sent Thommy away?"
Conar grinned. "He offered, Liza."
"Aye, and you knew how long it would take him to get Sadie to give him the key to the wine cellar," she
scolded.
"Maybe I should have asked for a rare bottle, then." He leered at her, then reached up a hand to draw
her head down to his eager lips. "One kept far back in the room."
"You are incorrigible!" she said when his lips released hers.
"I am horny, Madame."
"A condition you seem to perpetuate, Milord," she sniffed and picked up the lavender-tinted rose he had
plucked for her earlier. She smiled in appreciation as she inhaled its heady aroma.
"The roses in this garden have no thorns," he told her with a resigned sigh. "Did you realize that?" He
picked up a long tress of her hair and tickled his nose with it.
She twirled the rose in her slim fingers. "I had not thought of it. Why is that?"
He smiled. "There’s a legend. Want to hear?" When she nodded, he pointed to where Storm and Marsh
sat. "See the thornbush by the seagate?"
She looked at the twisted, gnarled bush and a slight, unhappy frown crossed her face. "It looks so
forlorn sitting all alone."
"There’s a reason why its all alone." He took her hand and brought the palm to his mouth, his teeth
nibbling at the tender flesh between her thumb and forefinger.
"And?" she prompted, trying to withdraw her hand, for the sensations he was causing were turning her
hot with passion. She was relieved when he brought her hand down to his chest and cradled it against his
shirt.
"My mother used to let us come with her to the garden." He glanced up at her with a happy smile. "Like
you do with my children." He lifted her hand and kissed it again. "She’d tend her flowers and tell us
stories of her homeland, Virago, and about our heritage. We would listen with rapt
Two days later, the cinch of Conar’s saddle had been cut. As he raced du Mer’s new gelding across the
training field, the cinch had let go and Conar slid with a painful crash to the hard-packed ground, the
wind knocked from him, his left arm twisting awkwardly beneath him.
"Is it broken?" Teal had asked as he leapt from his own mount to kneel beside his friend.
"Bruised and scraped all to hell," Conar said, wincing as he sat up. "Sprained, maybe, but not broken."
"You could have broken your neck with a fall like that."
Conar looked at Seayearner, his huge black steed standing a few feet away, grazing with contentment on
the tall field grass. "Aye, that I could," he answered softly. He looked back at Teal. "Maybe I was meant
to."
And only a few hours after Conar and Teal returned to the keep, Conar limping, Teal looking sorely
embarrassed, the young Prince had come down with a violent fit of vomiting, gagging so violently, Cayn
had feared this time he truly had been poisoned.
"What did he drink?" Legion had shouted at the cook as he grabbed her and spun her to face him.
"Storm said he saw you give him something!"
"I gave him some lemonade," Sadie shouted back. "You accusing me of giving the man something to hurt
him?"
Liza stepped between the two of them. "Of course, not, Sadie. We know you’d never do anything to
hurt His Grace."
"He was given something!" Hern snarled. "The boy’s sicker than a drunk weasel!"
"I don’t know what it was that he ingested," Cayn told them all that night. "Whatever it was, it was meant
to put him in his bed and it has."
"From now on, I want three men watching him every minute!" the King ordered. He turned to Legion.
"Don’t let him out of your sight!"
Now, Liza watched him as carefully as Legion, Teal, Hern, Thom, Storm, and Marsh. Having the two
Elite near as they sat in the garden made her less anxious, but she would just have soon had Thom there
as well.
"Liza?"
She jumped, her gaze going to her husband. "Aye, Milord?"
"Don’t you want to be alone with me?" he asked in a hurt, little boy’s voice.
"Is that why you sent Thommy away?"
Conar grinned. "He offered, Liza."
"Aye, and you knew how long it would take him to get Sadie to give him the key to the wine cellar," she
scolded.
"Maybe I should have asked for a rare bottle, then." He leered at her, then reached up a hand to draw
her head down to his eager lips. "One kept far back in the room."
"You are incorrigible!" she said when his lips released hers.
"I am horny, Madame."
"A condition you seem to perpetuate, Milord," she sniffed and picked up the lavender-tinted rose he had
plucked for her earlier. She smiled in appreciation as she inhaled its heady aroma.
"The roses in this garden have no thorns," he told her with a resigned sigh. "Did you realize that?" He
picked up a long tress of her hair and tickled his nose with it.
She twirled the rose in her slim fingers. "I had not thought of it. Why is that?"
He smiled. "There’s a legend. Want to hear?" When she nodded, he pointed to where Storm and Marsh
sat. "See the thornbush by the seagate?"
She looked at the twisted, gnarled bush and a slight, unhappy frown crossed her face. "It looks so
forlorn sitting all alone."
"There’s a reason why its all alone." He took her hand and brought the palm to his mouth, his teeth
nibbling at the tender flesh between her thumb and forefinger.
"And?" she prompted, trying to withdraw her hand, for the sensations he was causing were turning her
hot with passion. She was relieved when he brought her hand down to his chest and cradled it against his
shirt.
"My mother used to let us come with her to the garden." He glanced up at her with a happy smile. "Like
you do with my children." He lifted her hand and kissed it again. "She’d tend her flowers and tell us
stories of her homeland, Virago, and about our heritage. We would listen with rapt
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