Canes and Scales Page 5

  “You need to develop the heart not to speak your thoughts so bluntly, not even to me.”

  More dreary laughter shook my chest. “Why? Will you turn me over to mad Eddie and demand my immediate execution? Have him slap me in a Catch designed for one room, then watch as he merrily shoves me through the outer door?”

  His fingers squeezed my knee. “Hardly, you old dramatist; I love you too well. But be aware I love my position in life. I enjoy the concept of a monarchy and I feel as long as they are well-treated, then this country’s people happily support a monarchy. You already halted overtaxing and social abuse. This country is not ready for democracy and you know it. Baby steps, cousin. Don’t push too far lest you find yourself at the cliff’s edge with nowhere to plunge but down.”

  Hearing my frivolous cousin offer me serious political advice forced me to partake of a long, soothing drink. “I hate to confess it but you are correct. Rebellion and revolution is a game for younger men than I.”

  “Exactly. It’s time for you to stop running around the battlefield acting heroic. You know the people love you, so you need to prove nothing to them. Take a break from heroics! Continue advancing the sciences and keep evil Edward from ruining the nation. That’s work enough for anyone.” Keith clapped his hands together and smiled. “Well, cousin, it’s time to preside over the evening revelries. Will you remain hidden with your new intrigue or will you force yourself to socialize?”

  When I examined my energy level, I knew I’d provide poor company among the demanding nobles. The thought of enduring tedious chatter exhausted me. “Be a dear cousin and arrange for dinner to be brought to me. I promise I shall rise early tomorrow and take part in the planned hunt.”

  “Excellent. I’ll send up more wine so you can relax in a royal manner. Enjoy your night with the becaned beauty.” Keith supplied me a smart bow before he left the bedroom.

  I shook my head in self-mockery. Keith was correct; any thoughts of overthrow and democracy needed to remain securely in my brain. Maintaining shadow control while steering the country into calmer political waters felt practical. As he said, keep encouraging technological advancement and progress. Our scientists accomplished so much in the past 20 years, creating methods to offer heat and power to the country. No revolution? Not true. My revolution arrived in a subtle manner involving steam and power. Now if I could convince the neighboring countries we owned no plans of attacking them first, life would turn positively bucolic. That is if I forgot about my savage, homicidal brother fouling the throne.

  The concept of a coup still danced in my mind. Remember, the military answered to me. They would flush away any opposition. Aside from a few decadent nobles who enjoyed unlimited abuse capacity, would anyone mind if I imprisoned Eddie? He despised me. Only his fear of my power allowed me to live.

  Nonsense. Not the time to think on such serious topics. A lovely Halfling awaited me in the other room. Time to cuddle in tranquil sloth. Forget about revolution, rebellion and killing. Concentrate on enjoying life.

  I rose and stretched out my muscles. Remarkable how Alasdaire’s healing magic banished my lingering aches. It amazed me how he dared to use his magic. Surely he knew my magical wards sensed unusual power? He trusted me not to reveal his secrets. Touching.

  How finely could Alasdaire direct his magic? He used it for healing and creating. Did he own the ability to harm? Ah, think, the Catch halted such reckless actions. That cursed Catch kept him from living his life. I thoughtfully touched my throat. Did I own the skill to defuse the Catch?

  A knock on the suite’s door interrupted my serious thoughts. “Alasdaire, can you admit our wine?”

  “Yes, my Prince.” Quick footsteps padded from the small bedroom across the suite’s living area. Why not? I returned to the bed and allowed the feather mattress to cradle me. Alasdaire entered the bedroom bearing a tray. “Mmm, Cook sent her olive bread and fresh goat cheese.”

  I laughed and patted the bed. “Set it here. We can snack and sip more wine.”

  Alasdaire grinned in delight. He returned bearing another bottle of red. “Ah, Lord Keith sent up the potent Rjoan red. He does like you, Prince.”

  “He wants me to unwind and forget the woes of the world. Why not? I have decided we will remain up here for dinner so let’s snack, cuddle and let the world revolve without us. Perhaps you can read to me.”

  “I would love to read to you, my Prince.”

  “Alasdaire, while we are in this room, please call me Linden.” Ha, so much for not making impulsive decisions.

  Alasdaire froze in opening the Rjoan. Instead of protesting he swallowed deeply and smiled as if I had ripped that Catch from his slim neck. His expression thrilled me. “Linden. Dear, kind, generous Linden.” His accent rolled around my name as if he savored a precious treat.

  “Beautiful fey Alasdaire.” I accepted the wine and dipped the still warm bread into the creamy goat cheese. I certainly owned no worries of growing fat; no, after the war I needed a few good feasts to replace the weight I lost. Sometimes when I looked in the mirror I wondered when I had turned into a gaunt, world-weary man?

  My Halfling, odd how I already thought of him as mine, curled next to me. He dipped another piece of warm bread into the cheese and held the treat to my lips. I bit into the tart delight. He ate the remainder. Seductive. I let my companion feed me delicacies until I felt comfortably full. We sipped our wine. “What shall I read to you, Linden?”

  “There’s a book of Pistal sonnets in my travel bag; the lad probably set it… ah, there, I see it on the chest.”

  What a rewarding sensation. I drifted in a comfortable, wine-induced haze, listening as Alasdaire’s spicy accent rippled across Pistal’s romantic words. When read aloud in an intimate setting, each word gained suggestive significance, especially when spoken in an uncommon accent. Nuances in tone emerged. As the words drifted around me, the sun’s final rays peeked in from the tall windows. Around the bedroom the Rindain crystals emitted their soft glow from exposure to the sun. Establishing peaceful trade with that stubborn nation gained us those marvelous, endlessly renewable light sources. See, another part of my subtle revolution.

  My eyes fluttered shut for a second time. I held up my hand. “Alasdaire, you have lulled me into submission. I propose another nap until they wake us for dinner.”

  “Linden, you are corrupting me.”

  “Nonsense.” We exchanged a lazy kiss. Alasdaire stroked his fingers down my stomach and questioningly teased my cock. I shook my head. “I truly do mean to nap. Worry not, my beauty; I plan to taste your charms soon.”

  “I cannot wait, Linden.”

  Neither could I.

  Alasdaire cuddled into my arms. His breathing deepened. To my dismay my thoughts refused to succumb to sleep. That damned treasonous flyer bothered me too much. Ordering the use of our new dirigible to launch sulfur bombs against Intainatar’s holy city Everada felt wrong. Fine, I appreciated our amazing scientific advancements, but air attack felt cowardly. Still, Intainatar’s relentless attacks, using their dangerous fire bombs against innocent farmers and river towns, left me no peaceful recourse. My decision did not please me, no; if it did, I’d despise myself, but at least it ended a bloody three-year battle and saved my countrymen from dying in droves. Intainatar suddenly found herself a heavily-guarded province of Ardaul. My realistic side appreciated gaining free access to their key port towns. Profitable.

  Moronic rebels. Those bombs allowed Lady Peace to sound her trumpet and allowed me to stand down from the hated war. In response to her song, I travelled around the country visiting loyal regions that never considered a convenient revolt. My insane brother Edward despised leaving the palace, so I took his place in inspecting our vast country. Sometimes I wished long, diverse Ardaul held a few less endless acres. Imagine, in conquering rugged Intainatar, we acquired more acres for me to visit.

  My brutish brother’s agoraphobia did not bother me, although at times I wished he’d venture out to allow
an assassin a splendid opportunity. Edward the XVI ruled only due to his elder age. Aside from age, he deserved no respect from his subjects and especially not from me. Instead of loving their King, the country—well, aside from the rebels—adored their so-called brave, available Prince. Brave yet reasonable Prince Linden led the army, advised for the country’s good and worked with the nobles to create peace for all. I pushed for advancement in all disciplines, especially in steam power and energy to bring ease into our lives. Our country needed to act as a leader. Ardaul needed to be a seat of learning so powerful that other countries looked to us as saviors. It was time for Ardaul to shine in the modern age. Time to banish the bloodthirsty legacy.

  My idiot brother refused to see past his narrow, bigoted nose. He saw nothing wrong with letting Ardaul continue on as a celebration of barbaric intolerance. Why not show our neighboring countries who owned the true power? Why not continue browbeating our people? What a cruel dolt. Yet on a long ago winter’s night, after he discovered his so-called King’s vile plan to tax our fine citizens into despair via a trio of terrors—a coal, wool and steam tax—this Prince showed his fangs. I told my weak-willed brother if the mewling moron passed the taxes, he’d disappear in a snap.

  That fateful night established the royal rules. No major decision passed without my approval. A few conniving nobles who had pushed for the damaging taxes found themselves banned from court or, in three special cases, quietly banned from breathing again. My brother and I completely understood and despised each other. Stupid, lazy Edward left important matters to me. In turn he lived his decadent life in the palace, seducing anything that breathed. At least Edward didn’t torment a wife; a childhood sickness blunted his seed, so he reasoned why tie himself to a wife when no heirs loomed in his future? The thought pleased me as much as my brother’s understanding that, if anything happened to me, he knew exactly what lethal demise awaited courtesy of my loyal supporters. Perfect. I also protected the future heir, my cousin Peter, from any mishap. Each of Peter’s servants was a trained killer ready to defend their young master to the death.

  So many games to keep in play. It’s a wonder I ever slept.

  The slim beauty in my arms released a little sigh. “You feel so tense, Linden. What bothers you?”

  I chuckled. “The entire world bothers me.”

  “I hope that doesn’t include me.”

  “You are not the cause of my distress.” I kissed his cheek.

  “Good.”

  My mind used an old childhood trick. I thought of snow falling, snow falling so hard and thick it blanketed the world into encompassing whiteness. I tried counting the flakes.

  My thoughts submitted to the snow.

  Alasdaire

  Confidences

  Cook prepared us a feast truly fit for a prince. Salmon sautéed in dill, lemon, and shallots, roasted asparagus decorated with rich cheese, an assortment of her delicious vegetable salads, and other delights tantalized my senses. We ate in a companionable silence, arms brushing, fingers offering the occasional morsel to willing lips. Powerful Linden treated me as an equal, as his companion. He did not judge me or fault me. I wanted to drop to my knees and bless him, but I knew such an action would invite annoyance. In this little world we were equals.

  After enjoying so much bounty, I contemplated a third serving of the salmon. Enough remained to feed a family. Cook must think Linden looked in need of a feast. His cheekbones did strain at his skin.

  Linden raised his glass. “Delicious.”

  “Clever Cook knows she needs to please the Prince.”

  “Ah, did this dinner taste better than usual?”

  “Since I rarely eat the same fare as the noble guests, I cannot correctly judge the quality.” Ah, how crass of me to speak so cruelly. “Forgive me.”

  “Alasdaire, cease apologizing for speaking your mind.”

  I aimed a coy smile toward my Prince. “Forgive me again.”

  Linden shook his head in mock scold. He sipped his wine then rolled his head in a slow circle. “I haven’t felt this stress-free in months. Your massage and our naps worked a miracle on my old body.”

  “Well, you are on vacation so you should toss away your cares.” How naïve! I sounded so young and simple. How could such a powerful man forget his cares? Those demons simmered under his relaxation, always waiting to devour his attention. Linden claimed he felt relaxed but I knew the voracious world wanted to change his condition. I felt the tension in his muscles. I wondered what Lord Keith told him to bring on such distress?

  The salmon tempted me. The fresh fish sang a siren song gleaned from the stream. I heard something remaining from its natural state. All living things owned a song, so eating them felt barbaric. Over the years I learned to ignore the small sounds. After all, I needed to eat. I leaned over and speared another generous chunk from the serving tray.

  Linden swirled his wine. His wrist moved in a slow rhythm. The delicate glass looked small in his large, bony hand. He looked like a man possessed by pensive thoughts. I wanted to tell the Prince I had never experienced a finer meal, not even when my father decided to eat with Mother and I long years ago. The memory burned me. I wanted my Father to love me, to accept me, and he threw me away. Tonight I hated him more than ever for staining my mind.

  I needed to cease thinking of the past. Let this night supply me nothing but bliss. Let this room contain nothing but joy.

  “Alasdaire, do you understand your natural powers?”

  I almost choked on my salmon. My Prince knew. Of course he knew. I debated lying but I knew it a fruitless task. Evading the subject guaranteed his annoyance. Odd how I already understood certain reactions. I swallowed my salmon, sipped wine and decided honesty ruled the moment. “No I do not.”

  “A pity. Why didn’t your mother teach you?”

  “Our powers emerge when we reach puberty. Sadly, my power peaked long after Mother’s death. I do not know if I could have saved her since I never owned the opportunity to try.”

  “Sad indeed. I suspect Keith recognizes your ability but he ignores your potential since he wants to protect you. You do realize you could be executed for your powers, especially for attempting to spell me. Your daring surprises me but it is part of your complex nature, so I will ignore the matter.”

  His low words shoved needles into my spine. Words flew free without my consent. “The Serpent scales grace your body, yet you let an Elven bastard use his powers against you? Where did a powerful Prince learn such compassion?”

  My words sparked a long silence, one most uncomfortable and unwelcome, the type of silence just before a violent summer storm breaks. I wanted to beg forgiveness yet I needed a real answer, plus I knew further apologies invited more silence. Astute Linden had already learned protracted silences unnerved me. He studied his wine. I bit my lip and waited.

  My Prince finally shrugged and offered me a difficult smile. “When I was young, my Father, a demanding, ruthless man, saw the need to train both sons. In the normal Serpent throne situation, the second son is encouraged to be an ineffectual dandy, the type who spends his days gambling, fornicating and carousing with other useless young blades. My upbringing was quite different. In his way Father informed me I might be needed to step in and solve a family crisis. He recognized Edward’s serious defects.” Linden’s smile curdled into distaste then he shrugged. “Along the way I committed myself to learning about other races in this world. I knew in order for this country to advance someone in power needed to understand the needs of other countries. For some outrageous reason I developed a sense of compassion, which I believe you have already experienced. Since I am not insane or corrupt from my power I, unlike my brother, understand and accept you.”

  My nerves dissolved into relief. “You show me remarkable compassion. And your father was correct; you should rule this land. Why do you allow your brother to remain as King?”

  This time Linden frowned in reprimand. “Why did your father let you live?”

/>   We stared at each other. I cringed in understanding. “You must think me quite naïve.”

  “Why should you be anything else? Don’t curse your naivety. Your defiance, naivety, heritage and healing ability fascinate me so don’t shy away from your nature.” Linden finished his wine. “Unless you plan on feasting away into the wee hours, I propose we continue on our decadent path. Let’s return to bed. You can read to me until something more amusing occurs.”

  “Linden, I find no fault with your plan.” To my relief I rose without falling over. Linden’s revelation about feeling my spell left me weak in the knees. I had been a fool to try such a rash act, a desperate fool.

  Perhaps not so foolish. Linden dismissed my rash act. He still wanted me in his bed. Little did he know he would experience something I never offered to any other man. Linden deserved my gifts.

  I organized the trays on the silver serving trolley and returned the trolley to the hallway. Linden’s guards nodded to me. I felt the need to speak to them. “The Prince is going to bed for the evening.”