Part 19 (1/2)

”A prautau?” He squinted, trying to see a shape in the hacked up mess. ”Where is its head?”

”Here.” Lorgin pointed to a protrusion bulging out on one side.

Traed was skeptical. ”Then where are the feet?”

Lorgin pointed to six misshapen spindles sticking out from the other end.

”Prautaus do not have spindly little legs like that! Give it to me.” Lorgin gingerly handed over his creation. Traed removed Yaniff's Cearix from his waistband and began to expertly whittle away at the wood. ”Why a prautau?”

”Let us just say it has a special meaning for Adeeann and me.” Lorgin smiled slowly at the fond memory.

Traed paused briefly to look over at him, then resumed carving. ”Where is Adeeann?”

”She went with Suleila to the village.” Lorgin leaned back against the trunk of the tree, lacing his hands behind his head. ”She will be back for the evening meal. You will join us.”

It was a Lorgin invitation: one part request, three parts command. Traed nodded.

They sat in silence for a time; Traed working at the carving, Lorgin watching him out of the corner of his eye. Waiting.

Finally Traed spoke. ”Yaniff has asked me to go to your brother.”

”Then you will go.”

”In your stead. I realize you cannot leave your zira now when she is so near her time. As your friend, I-”

”No.” Lorgin was going to put a stop to that type of thinking immediately. ”In your stead. You have a responsibility to Rejar as I do to you. You are his brother of the line. If need be, you must stand for him. This is your place, your honor. You are his brother.”

Traed exhaled noisily. ”Krue does not acknowledge me as such.”

”He cannot. But I acknowledge you. And so does my brother. We know who you are. In our minds and hearts, we are your family.”

Traed was deeply moved by Lorgin's words. He could not speak.

Lorgin gazed into the pool. ”I vow Traed, this request of Yaniff's unsettles me. Rejar is well equipped to defend himself. In some respects, because of his Familiar abilities, he is more able than either you or I. The danger to him might be of the kind one cannot touch. This concerns me.”

”I would heed your words, Lorgin. There has always been truth in them.”

”Good-then I say you will go.”

They both knew Traed could not refuse the sacred trust. He was bound to go. Still, Lorgin had always had the ability to manipulate a situation to his liking.

Traed ran his finger down the edge of his blade, saying softly, ”Since when did you get the idea you could order me about?”

Despite the ominous tone, Lorgin caught a glimmer of a smile on Traed's face.

He raised a regal eyebrow. ”Since I discovered I am the elder brother. Now, let me see what damage you have done to the babe's only toy....”

Chapter Nine.

London She had no intention of ”finding out,” as Prince Nickolai had so crudely put it.

Lilac gave herself one last cursory glance in her floor-length mirror. It was her wedding day.

The guests were below awaiting the bride's entrance. Leave it to the Prince to get a special license! The banns hadn't even been read. It was rather scary, the speed in which he moved. Once his Highness had made up his mind to be a groom, he was like a stampeding bull.

The a.n.a.logy made her cringe.

No sense thinking of that.

No sense at all-because it wasn't a white lacy veil she stuffed a stray strand of hair back under, but a moth-eaten cap.

Turning to view her backside, she looked over her shoulder at her reflection.

The stablekeeper's son's clothes fit her perfectly. Thank G.o.d the jacket was so loose-no one would suspect she was a woman in this getup. Except... did her hips look a bit rounded? Come to think of it, she had never seen a boy with such a curvaceous posterior. Lilac bit her lip.

”Oh, miss! I do wish y' would reconsider!” Emmy stood behind her, wringing her hands. ”Where will ya go? What will ya do? 'Tis a bad business, I tell ya!”

”Oh, hush, Emmy! I'm just going to disappear for a while.” Lilac was hesitant to tell even Emmy where she was going for fear the Prince would worm it out of her. It was only a pure stroke of luck and an unusual visit from Lady Harcorte last week that had saved her.

Seeing Lilac's distress, the kind woman had offered to shelter her for a time. ”Until this ghastly mess blows over,” she had said. Lilac was extremely grateful. To throw off suspicion. Lilac herself had invited Lady Harcorte to the wedding-much to Auntie's horror.

She was downstairs at this very minute, ready to carry out the ruse of consoling the Prince when he was left standing at the altar. Lilac thought it had been a very clever plan of Lady Harcorte's and commended her on it. Lady Harcorte had smiled, calling her a lovely, naive little girl, who was much too sweet for the Prince.

There wasn't much time left. She threw the sash on the window up and gingerly grabbed for the wide limb of the oak tree outside.

Lilac had never actually climbed a tree before, but how hard could it be? Her cat, Rejar, did it all the time. With one last push, she launched herself out the window.

A strong hand grabbed her ankle.

”Emmy, what are you doing?” she whispered frantically. ”Let go!” She tried to tug her foot free from the powerful grip. Instead of being set loose, she was inexorably being drawn back into the room.

There was only one person she knew of who was that strong.

She clutched at the windowsill, refusing to let go. Unfortunately, by this time, she was back in her bedroom in a rather horizontal position, parallel to the floor. ”Unhand me at once!” she ordered.

”If you say so,” the deep voice drawled. He released his hold on her and she fell in a sprawl to the carpet.

Throwing him a venomous look, she sat up, rubbing her backside.

Rejar knelt down on one knee beside her. He reached up, removing the lopsided cap from her head. Her hair tumbled down in total disarray, strands flying every which way. A smile quirked his sinful lips.

”I like this outfit you wear to your wedding.” The dual-colored eyes flashed with more than amus.e.m.e.nt. Lilac could swear she saw a hint of anger blossoming in the depths of those blue and gold eyes.

She looked away for a moment, worrying her lip. Just what would he do if he got really angry? Would it be better to push him into finally loosing his temper outright with her? He might call off the wedding then. Or, should she...

She wasn't going to have the chance to do either, for Prince Azov simply stood up and tossed her over his shoulder.