The War Gift - part 10

The word had slipped out unexpectedly.  Although he’d thought it at times, Cailan had never verbalized the word ‘master’ to Jarek.  The bigger man’s eyes reflected his surprise and his pleasure at Cailan’s utterance.  He reached up and cupped the back of Cailan’s neck, squeezing it lightly before pulling him forward and placing a tender kiss on his brow.

“You’re right.  I will explain what I can.”  He looked around the table.  “And I’d like the rest of you to help as well.”

The royal family nodded their willingness and Jarek looked back at Cailan.  “Some things I still can’t reveal, but some I can.”  He stroked a hand down Cailan’s hair.  “You’ve told me that your whole life you’ve seen your hair as something of a curse.  It was looked down on in your country; but here, petling, your hair color represents strong feelings of both hope and anxiety.”

That was only more confusing.  “Why?” Cailan asked.

“Because…there is a prophecy,” Jarek admitted tentatively.  “Actually, there are a lot of prophecies, most from more than three hundred years ago, that foretold of a silver-haired son who would be a gift to our people.”

“A…gift?”  Some missing pieces fell into place for Cailan, although how he felt about this slow-to-come understanding was complicated.  “So that’s why you’ve been calling me that.”

“Yes,” Jarek admitted.  “Initially that was why, but for me it’s become so much more.  While at first I believed you to potentially be the ‘gift’ spoken of in the prophecies, now I see you even more as simply a precious gift to me that I’ve been so blessed to receive.”

Cailan barely shook his head, his heart reeling a little because he wasn’t sure now whether Jarek’s professed love was really aimed at him or was a result of Jarek thinking he was some sort of fulfillment to ancient words.  He tried not to dwell on that unwelcome thought.

“What does being able to see color in your people’s hair have to do with all this?”

“We’re not entirely sure it does,” Jarek admitted, “but three of the written prophecies—and one of them in particular—imply that you’ll be able to see or be aware of things that the rest of us are blind to.”

“And me being able to see color in your hair or the shimmer in the royal family’s could be the fulfillment of that…or not,” Cailan worked out.

“Yes,” Jarek confirmed.  “But since we don’t see what you do, it’s nearly impossible to prove the validity of what you see.”

“What exactly does the prophecy say?” Cailan questioned.

“As we’ve said, there are many prophecies, young prince,” the king replied before Jarek could answer.  “They all speak of a man with silver hair who may be a gift of great value, but the prophecies also warn that just because he can be a good thing does not mean that good will happen.”

Cailan’s brows knit in confusion and Prince Sem spoke up.  “That doesn’t sound right to you, I can see,” he sympathized.  “What Alaric is trying to explain is that the prophecies are foreshadowing what the future could hold, but they don’t guarantee that things will happen as we wish.  If certain tenets are not satisfied, then we risk missing out on the good of the gift, and even potentially causing harm to our people.”

“So when you saw me,” Cailan deduced, “you saw my hair and thought the prophecy could be about me.”  Almost as soon as he said it, he shook his head.  “No, that doesn’t make any sense, because that treaty made by our ancestors would have brought my little brother, Doron, to Cylandrea, not me.”

Jarek nodded.  “Yes, but you spoke up in defense of your brother, which made us hopeful of a good heart in you; and, as you said, at first sight of your hair, we were strongly reminded of the prophecy.  Even if you hadn’t pled for your brother’s freedom, we would have sought a way to bring you with us instead of him.”

“All because of a prophecy,” Cailan murmured.  “But now there is another man with silver hair who could be the fulfillment as well.”

Jarek sighed sorrowfully.  “Yes, that is what we are facing.”

“And you can see why this situation is important to us and delicate to tend to,” the queen put in tactfully.”

“I see to a point,” Cailan conceded, “but I don’t understand why it appears to need to be one or the other.  You have me.  Comley is being offered to you.  If one of us is the one your prophecy speaks of, why do you hesitate to claim us both?”

“Because we never expected there to be two,” the king explained.  “I have never, before you and Comley, seen young men with the silver-white hair you possess.  It is rare not just in Arten, but throughout all the kingdoms I have ever visited.”

“And it has become more complicated because our brother has formed a bond to you,” Princess Sana said, speaking up for the first time since they entered the hidden room. 

Cailan looked to Jarek.  The man’s face was a mix of fraught stress and defeat, but he nodded in agreement.  “Yes.  There was so much I respected about you right from the start, my prince, and since I had never before seen a silver-born I was sure you were the fulfillment of centuries of prophecies.  Combined, those two things opened a door that led me to bond my heart to you.  The more I learn of you, the stronger I feel; but now another has shown up who fits the description the prophecies give us as well.  I must make a choice, and I’m struggling to do so.”

“Why must you make the choice?” Cailan wanted to know.

“Because that is an aspect of the prophecies as well,” Sem explained somberly.  “Some of the prophecies that speak of the coming silver man insist that he may only be known to the ‘second son’.  In our generation, that is Jarek.  He is the second born in the family.  It is not a decision Alaric can make as king, or one that I can do as a son born after my older brothers.  It rests on Jarek’s wisdom.”

A thought occurred to Cailan.  “Does the promise you’ve hinted at to me involve this prophecy?”

Jarek folded his hands on the table and nodded forlornly.  “It has never been known when the silver one would appear, so every second son born to the Cylandrean royal family has had this promise passed on to him…a promise, once we are old enough to understand, we must make a choice to either keep or toss.”

That seemed like a very heavy commitment expected at a young age to Cailan.  “What exactly have you promised?” he asked.

Jarek’s words were determined, but his expression was distressed.  “I have promised to be a provider of protection and a leader of safety to my people.  If the gift from the prophecies came to my hands, I promised to care for him, guide him, be a master of trustworthiness to him, and bond myself to him more than any other because he would be infinitely valuable to the people of our land,” Jarek enlightened.

There was quiet for a long minute before Cailan spoke his thoughts.  “And you thought I was the one you were to bond to until Comley was offered by the Berring kingdom.  Now you’ve attached yourself to me—very likely because I was here first—but which complicates things because if Comley is the one the prophecies speak of then you need to break your connection to me and bond with him for the good, and possibly even the safety, of your country.”

There was silence for a long time.  No one wanted to agree out loud with his words, but the hush said just as much as words would have to Cailan. 

Sem finally broke the silence, although his words were carefully, almost tentatively, said.  “But if Comley’s hair is not natural to him, then he cannot be the fulfillment of the prophecies, which means Jarek would not have to break his bond to you.”

“Unless another silver-born comes along and that one is the actual gift the ancient words speak of,” Cailan asserted. 

The faces of those at the table showed they hadn’t even considered that possibility.

“That is true,” King Alaric admitted slowly.  “And I realize now how it seems we are merely using you, prince.  I am very sorry it has come about that way.  Jarek has told me you feared yourself purely a pawn, but we never thought of you as one or intended it to come about like that.  A pawn is a useful but superfluous playing piece, but that is not you.  We truly saw you as a gift that we were honored to be entrusted with.”

“I appreciate that, your majesty, but I cannot help but see that I am not in an enviable position right now.  If I am the ‘gift’ of the prophecy, then the affectionate words that have been spoken to me by your brother are born out of that, not out of seeing me as simply being…well, me.  How can I trust in him when there is such a shaky foundation? 

“Then on the other side, if I am not the prophetic fulfillment you’ve been waiting for, then I truly have no purpose.  Leader Jarek has said I would not be relegated to the royal harem, but that was when he thought I was the ‘gift’.  If that is not true, then he cannot continue a bond with me and there is nowhere else for me to live out my days except in the harem’s quarters, and I admit that I am bothered by that more than a little.  It means the first half of my life was spent as the disparaged silver-born of Arten, and the second half as Cylandrea’s catamite prince,” he deduced dejectedly.

Queen Kesla spoke in a voice that Cailan thought was meant to be comforting.  “I can see why you are discouraged, Cailan, but Jarek has had nothing but good to say of you, and it has given us pleasure to see the joy and contentment you’ve brought him.  If it would come about that he must break his bond to you, then I will add my promise as queen that you will neither be concubine nor pawn for as long as you are with us.”

“And I will add to that promise,” Princess Sana spoke up in her soft voice and slightly flawed pronunciation.  “You will be given your own suite of rooms in the palace; or, if that is not suitable, our mother and father would willingly accept you at their home in the southern hills as a fostered son.”

Feeling emotional, Cailan still experienced a bit of the tightness that had formed in his chest releasing.  It wasn’t home as Arten was, or even as Jarek and the rooms Cailan shared with him had started to be, but at least he could live his days feeling respected and maybe even finding some other purpose for his life.

He was choked up, but he managed to speak his sincere gratefulness.  “Thank you, my ladies.  Your kind regard is beyond generous.”

His hand was then engulfed by Jarek’s, the touch almost timid, but warm and soothing.  “For what it’s worth, my prince,” he offered, “I love you for the man I’ve seen in you.  The first steps if it might have been prophecy related, but the bulk of it has been me growing in affection and love for the man I see you to be.”

Cailan took a shaky breath.  “Thank you, my lord, but I think you do need to make a decision soon, and base it on the promise to your country and not affection for me.”

“I agree,” Alaric added.  “Jarek, you and I are expected to continue alliance discussions this afternoon, but there will be no hint of suspicion about noble Comley’s hair. 

“Sem,” the king then spoke to his youngest sibling.  “You know what you need to do, and I want frequent updates on your progress.  As soon as we know if there is a way to prove Comley’s hair one way or the other, I need to be informed.”

“Yes, my king,” Sem accepted seriously.

Alaric rose then and came to stand by Cailan, who stood as well when a motion from the royal leader urged him to.  The king placed his hands on Cailan’s shoulders and spoke with frank words.  “No matter what, you will be respected and cared for, but I hope you are the gift we’ve waited for, Prince Cailan.”

“Thank you,” Cailan whispered around a still tight throat.

When everyone stood and began to follow the king from the room, Jarek delayed his departure by pulling Cailan into an apprehensive hug that quickly became tight, almost desperate.  “I hope you are too, my petling.  I’m praying for it.”

*****

The family separated to their own tasks and quarters after leaving the hidden room.  Cailan and Jarek returned to their rooms without a word spoken between them.  Once inside, Jarek removed his shoes, and then had Cailan sit on the edge of the bed while he removed his as well.

“Jarek….” Cailan began, but was brought to a halt by a Look leveled at him.

“Just because I may allow the use of my given name occasionally does not mean it is always appropriate.  You know the proper way to address me.  I thought we’d made a step forward in that not more than an hour ago, not a step back.”

Cailan knew he referred to the ‘master’ reference that had so unexpectedly rolled off his tongue.  But he wasn’t sure where he stood right now with everything that had been shared and with the uncertainty of the future. 

“I wasn’t trying to be disrespectful,” he explained.  “I just thought….”

“You thought that since your future with me seems uncertain, that your present is just as undecided.”  He stood from where he’d crouched to remove the shoes and cupped Cailan’s chin.  “I understand your doubts, but for now nothing has changed.  You are still my concubine, my petling, my gift; and I am still your master and the one who will take care of you.”

“But you shouldn’t.  I mean…if I’m not the one from this silver prophesy, then you shouldn’t keep letting yourself connect to me.”

“No.”

“No?” Cailan asked in surprise over the short, unexpected statement.

“Correct.  No, I will not stop bonding with you.  If it is discovered that you are not the prophesies’ fulfillment…well, then it will be time to consider how to detach myself from you.  Until then we will continue as we have been.”

“How is that possible?” Cailan argued.  “Everything is in limbo.”

“No, it is not,” Jarek debated.  “We are in a place of change and discovering, but not limbo.  I know these developments have only added more uncertainty to the changes you’ve faced, so I’m going to make it as simple as possible.  You are mine.  You will do as I tell you, and I will protect and care for you.”

“It’s not that simple,” Cailan insisted.

“Yes, it is,” the big man replied.  “You have no control over what’s going on right now, and I understand that is a frightening position to be in; but I do have some control over these events, and I am going to help you through them.”

“How?”

“By insisting on your obedience and honesty, and asking you to trust me.”

Cailan sighed and took a step closer before dropping his forehead onto Jarek’s chest.  “I want to trust you, but I’m afraid of getting lost along the way,” he admitted.

“If you get lost, I will find you,” Jarek promised.

“Not if your heart is someone else’s,” Cailan said into his owner’s chest.

“Little love, I’m not sure that’s possible,” Jarek replied softly.

They stood together for several minutes before Jarek kissed the top of the smaller man’s head and released him.  “Come now.  I want to get in some training with you before alliance talks resume this afternoon.”

It was an abrupt change and an unexpected activity choice, but Cailan welcomed it.  Strenuous physical exertion would take his mind off the day’s trials.  The two of them changed into training attire and Jarek brought him to the courtyard in which they’d done their sword fighting. 

“Have you ever used a hand spear, my prince?”

“No, I’ve never heard of them,” Cailan confessed.

“I wondered about that.  I didn’t see any weapon like them among your people when we battled.”  He motioned to a servant boy he’d brought to the yard with them and gave him orders to bring them two hand spears.  The youth ran off and returned quickly with two unfamiliar items that stretched about six feet long.

Jarek took the weapons and handed one to Cailan.  “These are hand spears.  They are made of the hardest wood in Cylandrea, covered in a thin plate of steel, and have a sharpened point attached to each end.  They are considered both defensive and offensive weapons and are meant primarily for close combat.”

“How are they used?” Cailan asked, already interested in learning the unfamiliar weapon.

“I’ll show you, but first I want to make sure the protection spell I set a few days ago is still strong.”

As before, he had Cailan place his hand on the red chain bracelet on Jarek’s wrist, while Jarek touched the collar on Cailan’s neck and murmured exotic sounding words.

“There,” the man said when he was done and took a step back from Cailan.  “Let’s get started.  Hold the spear like this.”

Jarek held his spear in both hands so the pointed ends stretched horizontally.  Cailan mimicked the pose, feeling the weight of the object and recognizing already the damage it could do when wielded.

“Good,” Jarek praised.  “Spread your grip out just a bit more for a better weight balance…now, match my movements.”

Jarek began a simple series of movements designed to show and practice the range of the weapon.  Cailan mirrored each step, thrusting the stick to the sides, up, diagonally, and switching hand positions on occasion.

“Very good.  You’re a fast learner, my prince.  How do your arms feel?”

Cailan rolled his shoulders, feeling the minor strain of worked muscles, but also the pleasant heat and blood movement from exercise.  “I’m good.”

Jarek nodded approvingly even as he gave instructions.  “Good.  Always pay attention to your body’s limits, particularly when using this weapon.  It takes strength and endurance, but can quickly wear out its user because it’s almost all upper body muscles that are being used.  Now, hold it like this and come at me.”

Jarek held the weapon as it had been when they started and Cailan did the same, and then approached in a quick offensive move, planning to use his body weight combined with the stick’s heaviness to force Jarek to the ground.

In a quick move, Jarek copied exactly what Cailan did and their sticks clashed together.  Cailan felt unanticipated vibrations of the impact into his hands and it was such a sudden and unwelcome feel that he dropped his weapon, and then was immediately horrified to have done so.  He’d been trained to never release sword or bow unless the battle situation called for it.

Jarek recognized his look and spoke quickly.  “No, don’t be bothered, my prince.  That was a learning method.  I meant to make you drop the spear.”

Cailan shook out his hands that were still somehow feeling the unpleasant vibrations.  “How did you know I’d drop it, and why do you not feel the impact as I do?”

“It’s in technique and the way you hold it,” Jarek explained as he set his own spear down and then sat on the ground.  “Come here.”

Cailan sat on the ground in front of him and Jarek reached for his hands.  He took them one at a time and massaged the palms and fingers deeply and with clear experience in how to stop the painful tingling the impact had caused.

“The technique of avoiding the impact vibrations is in where you allow the spears to contact each other.  Certain parts of the weapon are more susceptible than others and will cause greater tremors.  The way you hold it is also important.  Thumb placement and creating a strong center of gravity between your hands and the spear will greatly reduce how you feel the impact in your hands and arms.”

“But how can you manage that in one-on-one combat when you don’t have time except to react?”

“Practice,” Jarek answered ruefully, although with a twinkle in his eyes.  “The hand spear is not an easy weapon to master, but it’s a valuable one in the right situations.  How are your hands?”

“Better,” Cailan acknowledged, the rubbing Jarek had done helped quite a bit.

“Get up then, and I’ll show you some tricks.”

They spent a further hour practicing with the hand spears.  Jarek also showed how the weapon served a secondary use as a javelin.  That was another aspect of the spear that took practice.  While Jarek’s throws were straight and went far, Cailan’s spear wobbled in the air and would only manage about half the distance.  He got better with each throw though, and both he and Jarek were pleased with the progress.

They were both hot and sweaty when Jarek said it was time to quit, and Cailan was thoroughly looking forward to a soak in the bathing room.  When they reached their rooms, he willingly followed his owner into the water, thankful for the ability to get clean although wishing for once that the pool was cooler.

“A meal should be ready for us once we’re washed,” Jarek commented as they bathed.  “Afterwards I must meet with the king.”

Cailan’s good mood from the training session felt like it seeped into the water around him. 

“Ah, petling,” Jarek’s low voice soothed when he saw the young man’s face fall.  “Don’t fret.”

“I’m afraid that’s something you cannot control,” Cailan replied a bit snarkily.

Immediately strong arms encircled him, pressing him against a muscular and beautifully marked body. 

“Oh, I think I can control it,” the big man replied.  “I just need to get you to dwell on something else.”

“Like what?”

“I can think of several things,” Jarek declared before capturing Cailan’s lips and ardently kissing them.

The young prince initially fought the passion being lavished on him, but Jarek was persistent and hard to resist.  Several minutes passed as they delved into their embrace before Jarek finally gentled and eventually ended the liplock.

“You can think on that and what we will do together when I return from the alliance meeting,” Jarek told him huskily.  Then one hand slipped down to Cailan’s backside and squeezed the firm cheeks.  “Or you can think how it is an act of obedience to me to not fret on the unknowns, and to disobey me means this…” he patted where his hand rested, “…gets quite sore.”

Cailan flinched instinctively.  Jarek felt the response and kissed Cailan’s brow.

“You can also think on the assignments I will give you to complete while I’m gone.”

“What assignments?” Cailan questioned.

“Let us dry off and I’ll tell you as we eat.”

With a nod of agreement, they left the pool, redressed, and moved to the parlor where a meal had been set out.  Cailan sat on the cushion when Jarek directed him there, but frowned when a blindfold and the leather bindings appeared in his owner’s hands.  It had been a few days since he’d been made to wear either and he didn’t like the sight of them.  His reaction didn’t go unnoticed by his master.

“I know this is not your first choice, but I have my reasons and you will obey me, petling.  Put your hands behind you.”

Cailan did as he was told reluctantly.  The leather circlets were secured at his wrists, and then the blindfold was placed over his eyes, shutting out all light and visual perception.  He felt Jarek take the seat at the table, and as soon as it seemed the man had settled, Cailan leaned into him.

“Good lad,” Jarek praised as his hand stroked once down Cailan’s hair.  “Lean into me.  Shut out everything else.”

While he didn’t want to acknowledge it, the blindfold and leather bindings helped Cailan succeed in that command.  He shifted slightly to get closer, and then felt the odd but warm sense of melding into Jarek’s body as he ate the small bites of food his owner gave him.  When Jarek spoke, he listened closely even though there was no one else to block out.

“I have three assignments that I expect you to complete by the time I return to you this evening,” his owner’s voice drifted down to him.  “The first is that I want you to write out all the colors you’ve seen in any Cylandrean’s hair and who had what colors.  If you felt there was any meaning behind a particular color, write that out as well.  I want as many details as you can think of. 

“Following that, you will write out all you know of the hair-changing spell, including the sorcerer you spoke to and even the actual spell if you know its details.

“The last assignment will be to study a book I’m going to get for you on weaponry.  I want you study it hard, and I’d like notes on any weapon in the book that you are not familiar with or have never used.  Do you understand all your tasks?”

“Yes, my lord.”

Unexpectedly, Cailan felt Jarek’s hands on him then, helping him to stand and then placing him on his lap.  Cailan felt off balance doing so with the way he was restrained and the visual impairment of the blindfold, but the sense of susceptibility eased when Jarek secured his arms around him and urged Cailan’s head to his shoulder.  He didn’t speak, but simply held the smaller man in silence for several minutes.

A short while later, Cailan’s binds and blindfold had been removed and he was seated at the parlor’s desk.

“Remember,” Jarek prompted, “as many details as possible.  It will help us.”

“Yes, my lord,” Cailan responded, although a bit of melancholy was in his reply. 

Jarek bent down and kissed him.  “Do not fret, petling.  That’s an order.”  His tone softened slightly.  “Focus on your tasks, and remember that I love you.”

He left the room then, and Cailan tried to set his mind to his tasks.  The afternoon wore on.  He completed his assignments fully, but Jarek hadn’t yet returned.  A knock on the parlor door both elated and saddened him.  He suspected Jothan would be on the other side, ready to tell him Jarek was delayed.  While he enjoyed the guard’s company, he wanted Jarek more.

But, it was not Jothan who greeted him when he answered the knock.  Senior steward Charon stood on the other side.  The man gave the shallow bow that was borderline disrespectful to Cailan before explaining.

“Leader Jarek has been tied up with his guests, highness.  He sends your evening meal along with his apologies.”

Cailan didn’t let his disappointment show in front of the servant.  From what he’d learned of Charon, he wasn’t Cailan’s favorite person, but he still deserved the respect due his status within the palace.  He waved the man into the room, thanking him politely as the servant set the table carefully.

“Do you require anything else, highness?” the servant asked when the meal had been fully set out.

“No, Charon.  Thank you,” he replied, but then had a sudden idea occur to him.  “Wait!  There is something.  Give me just one minute.”

Cailan went to the desk and carefully tore a piece of paper from his journaler.  He thought for just a moment before writing a short message: I’m not fretting, but please do what’s right for your kingdom.  Don’t regret your choice.

It was a thought that had been in Cailan’s head throughout the afternoon.  As a royal and the son of a king, he knew that sometimes the good of the people had to be chosen over the good of one person or one family.  Not all decisions were black and white.  He didn’t want to be the cause of harm to Cylandrea’s people anymore than he had wanted to be the cause of continued war between Arten and Cylandrea when King Alaric had volunteered to take him instead of his little brother.

He folded the note carefully before borrowing one of Jarek’s envelopes.  He dripped wax on the flap to seal it before remembering that he had no personal marker to embed into the wax.  Thinking quickly, he remembered his birthday gift from Jarek.  Sliding the ring off his finger, he pressed it into the wax, hoping Jarek would recognize the marking it made.  He then slipped the ring back on and took the note to the servant.

“I’d appreciate it if you’d deliver this to Leader Jarek, please.”

The servant nodded and accepted the envelope.  “As you wish, highness.” 

He then turned and exited at a clipped pace, leaving Cailan to eat alone.  The young prince sat unexcitedly at the table and picked up a warm roll.  Sighing, he ate it slowly, taking sips of the flavored water as he ate.  It wasn’t pleasant eating alone.  In fact, it made him feel strangely weary.

Not sure why he suddenly felt so tired, he slumped in the seat, closing his eyes and falling asleep almost immediately.

*****

Cailan was still in the chair when he awoke, but he was most definitely not in Jarek’s suite of rooms.  He was also very securely bound to the chair.  He frantically took in his surroundings and found no familiarity at all.  The room he was in was tiny and spartan.  Wooden walls surrounded him.  A bunk was built into one wall; a desk built into another, and most of the rest of the space was closed drawers and cabinets, with one small window set on the wall farthest from him, but which he couldn’t see out of.  There was also a sense of movement all around him that left him feeling very unbalanced.

Within moments of his waking it seemed, the door to the room swung open and a man whose vivid red hair proved he was not Cylandrean-born entered.  “Ah, awake I see.”

“Who are you?  Where am I?” Cailan demanded, his lifetime of princely authority coming to the fore immediately.

“Well aren’t you demanding, oh catamite prince,” the man mocked.  “I don’t believe you are in a position to make any orders right now.”

“Who are you?” Cailan repeated, refusing to be cowed. 

The man’s lips turned up in a half smile that was more a sneer than anything pleasant, and then he bowed exaggeratedly.  “I am Prince Killian of Berring, firstborn to the king and thus outranking you, a sixth born, so do not think I will bend to any demands you make of me.”

Cailan was surprised at that revelation.  “If you are heir to your kingdom’s throne, why aren’t you with your delegation during the alliance talks?   I know you were not part of the meal King Alaric hosted this morning.  Or why aren’t you back in Berring serving under your father?  And why have you taken me?  What point is there to that?  I have nothing to do with the talks between Berring and Cylandrea.”

Killian sighed dramatically.  “So many questions and so few I intend to answer.  I will say that you have a lot to do with why there is a Berring delegation here in this country.  And secondary to that….” He leered at Cailan, “…you are going to be quite enjoyable to me.”

A stone formed in Cailan’s chest, but he was careful not to show the dread that had descended at the other prince’s words.  “You may have the advantage now, Killian,” he said, purposefully leaving off the royal notation.  “But you will find I am not an easy conquest, nor will Leader Jarek take kindly to my abduction.”

“That is something I am counting on, concubine.”

Cailan glared at the other man.  “Why do you consider that a good thing?”

“Because it’s always good to have a second plan of action when the first fails in its purpose.  My eyes on the palace have informed me that the purity of noble Comley’s silver hair is being secretly questioned.  With that being doubted, I needed to provide a distraction for the royal family, and your escape from the palace should work nicely in my favor.”

“My escape?  You kidnapped me!”

“Aye, we did, but that is not how it will appear to Jarek or the king.”  That ugly sneer appeared again.  “It will be quite convincing that you’ve run away, which leaves only one silver-haired individual for your master to claim.  Or, if he chooses to refuse our gift of Comley, then I might allow him to realize that your disappearance might have been ‘helped’.”

“To what purpose?  Is your country so desperate for aid that you would commit such serious crimes?”

“Oh no, Berring thrives.  The tales of flooding and such are pure purposeful gossip.  We have much better plans for the country and people of Cylandrea, but those are not known to the ruling family…nor will they be known until there is nothing they can do about it.”

The stone in Cailan’s chest grew, leaving him fearful of what Killian and his people had planned.  “What are you intending to do?” he asked lowly.

“Nothing I plan to tell you about,” Killian answered.  “You are merely a pawn, Cailan of Arten; a valuable one, no doubt, but one I intend to do away with once I’ve no need of you.”

The man had been leaning against the built-in desk as they spoke, but now he stood and approached menacingly.  “I’ve no drugs currently available to keep you silent, so I’ll have to make do with the next best thing.”

           Cailan thought the man meant to gag him, but instead a hard hand backhanded him across the head, the impact so hard that the pain of it only registered for a moment before blackness overtook him.