Chapter 1

Cronan sat brooding on the throne. His throne now, he supposed, even though he"d never wanted it. He simply hadn"t been able to stomach Ulmat"s cruelty and his ill treatment of the people of Farlain any longer. What had started as an attempt to force Ulmat to see reason had turned into a full scale war. And now Ulmat was dead and he had been crowned king in his place.

"You are the son of King Ulmat," Barthar, his second in command, insisted.

"The illegitimate son. He certainly never acknowledged me."

It was hard to keep the bitterness out of his voice, not for himself so much but as for what Ulmat had done to his mother, Lauriel. Ulmat had seen seducing a young, innocent virgin as a challenge but he"d rapidly grown tired of Lauriel"s gentle ways and discarded her. If that had been all, it would have been bad enough, but in addition to casting her aside he"d made the entire court believe that she was a wanton slut. His aspersions had been echoed by a jealous Queen Astra, and Lauriel had returned to their small country estate in disgrace.

His mother had never really gotten over what had happened to her. She"d loved him, despite his parentage, but that love hadn"t been enough. She just gradually faded away, dying not long after his sixteenth birthday. At which point Magda, their housekeeper, and Porthan, their weapons master, had sat him down and told him who his father really was. The truth had not been easy to accept, or to come to terms with. He had hated Ulmat ever since then.

A week after that announcement, he rode to the city and joined the King"s Guards. He was young, but he was fast, strong, and exceptionally well-trained. He rose rapidly through the ranks, acquiring a loyal group of followers and companions along the way. Barthar was one of them. A big, scarred warrior, he"d provoked Cronan into an attack two days after he"d joined the Guard. Barthar had won, but only barely, and Cronan had won first his respect, and then his undying loyalty.

"A technicality," Barthar said impatiently. "You are the last existing member of the royal line. It will give the people hope," he"d added, and in the end,, that had been the reason that swayed him.

The throne room was a huge stone-walled space with a high beamed ceiling, the walls hung with dented shields and blood-stained weapons, a reminder of Farlain"s warrior past - not that Ulmat had ever handled a sword in battle, or even in combat despite his penchant for weaponry and barbaric displays. The room was a throwback to a time long before Farlain had become part of the Kaisarian Empire. The previous kings has not eschewed the resulting technological advances completely, but they were mostly hidden and used only by the elite. One of his many goals was to spread those advances to a wider share of the population.

The thought of the amount of work needed made him weary - far wearier than a day"s hard training and a night"s hard carousing had ever done. Then again, it had been several years since he"d had time for such indulgences. Ironically, in the three days since he"d assumed the throne no less than five ladies of the court had approached him to suggest a discreet - or not so discreet liaison. He was under no illusions as to their motives, but he"d almost been tempted. It had been a long time and he was still a male as well as a king, but he was also well aware of the political ramifications involved and he"d turned them all down politely. Or not so politely in the case of the female who"d put her hand directly on his codix under the banquet table.

He"d placed one of his daggers very gently against her little finger.

"Remove your hand or I will remove your finger."

She"d obeyed, her face going pale with fear, but her pallor had soon been replaced with a flush of annoyance. He hadn"t bothered to keep his voice down and more than one of their neighbors had given her an amused look. He was fully aware that he"d made an enemy, and one who was not without influence, but he was not some weak stripling to be led around by his codix and the sooner the ladies of the court recognized that, the better.

The banquet itself had been an annoyance, another of Barthar"s suggestions about returning to normality as quickly as possible. Robat had seconded the notion. An annoying little male who had been Ulmat"s steward, Robat hadn"t hesitated to assure him of his complete loyalty to the new regime. Cronan neither liked nor trusted him, but he had a great deal of knowledge about running the royal household and sufficient diplomatic skills to last through both of the previous kings" reigns.

"Don"t dismiss him," Barthar advised. "He"s good at his job and he will be invaluable at least until you can train someone else."

Cronan had nodded his reluctant agreement and summoned Robat to his presence.

"Yes, Your Majesty?"

Robat stood by the door, hands clasped neatly before him, his head respectfully bowed.

"You are to continue in your present position," Cronan informed him. "But be aware that my tolerance for any sign of disloyalty is limited."

"Of course, Your Majesty."

"I intend to hold a banquet."

"An excellent idea, Your Majesty. May I suggest the evening of the full moon-"

"Tonight."

A flicker of something crossed Robat"s features.

"Tonight?"

"Yes. Inform all of the nobles in residence in the palace that their attendance is mandatory. As well as any who are still in town," he added. Most of the nobles kept townhouses, but many of them had fled the city during the battle. Ulmat had chosen his favorites for their ability to flatter and amuse him, not for their bravery or their loyalty. "I want good food and good wine, but none of the foolishness Ulmat enjoyed."

He"d been on guard one night when the cook had served a huge roasted carpan that had been cut open to let a horde of tiny, sparkling nympals fly free - or at least that had been the plan. A few of the nympals had escaped, squeaking as they tried to fly away, but most of the others were dead or dying, crawling out onto the table and collapsing on the other food. It had been an appalling display and Ulmat had been livid that his grand idea had not been executed properly.

"Yes, Sire."

Robat had bowed his head and left. He had in fact arranged everything perfectly, despite the short timeline. The dining hall had been scrubbed and all traces of battle removed except for some gouges in the stonework that would require a mason. The food and wine were excellent but not extravagant, just as he"d requested, and a surprising number of nobles were in attendance.

Most of them were overly deferential, just as they had been with Ulmat, but he didn"t trust their obsequious behavior. If a counter attack came, it would be from among this group, although it was likely to be political than a straightforward battle. He would have to take precautions.

He sighed and rubbed his eyes. He"d barely slept for the past three days. Perhaps tonight...

A discreet cough at his elbow interrupted his thoughts. Robat had reappeared, his expression neutral.

"Your Majesty, a moment of your time, if you please?"

"What is it?"

"One of the slaves is causing trouble, sire," Robat said, his voice low.

Slaves? Slavery was not forbidden in the Kaisarian Empire, but it had never played a role in Farlain society. He"d thought he"d known the extent of Ulmat"s depravity, but this was a new low.

"What"s the problem with this particular slave?"

Robat pursed his lips.

"This particular slave is a primitive female, Your Majesty. I believe the former king acquired her as a… novelty, but he did not find her behavior... satisfactory."

A female? Even worse. His grip on his dagger tightened.

"Where is she?"

"King Ulmat had her, err, confined to the dungeons until she was willing to comply.So far it has not been successful."

Fuck. One more problem he didn"t need. He sighed and rose to his feet anyway.

"Take me to her."

A brief flash of shock crossed Robat"s face before it seemed into its usual neutral expression.

"Yes, Sire."

Robat led the way down beneath the castle. The passageway became narrower as they descended, the walls dripping with moisture as the smell of mold and decay grew stronger. He"d known that the castle contained dungeons of course - he"d even heard of Ulmat condemning suspected opponents to them - but confining a female here?

He heard her before he saw her, a hoarse voice yelling insults and demands. Robat came to a halt outside a small stone cell, and the occupant immediately stopped yelling, peering at him suspiciously from behind a tangled curtain of long, dark hair.

He peered back. She was huddled in one corner with her knees drawn up to her chest and her arms wrapped around them. The once white slave gown she"d been wearing was torn and dirty, revealing glimpses of unusually pale skin beneath the dirt.

"Who the hell are you?" she demanded, lifting her chin defiantly even though her voice shook.

The light was dim down in the dungeons, but he could make out her features well enough. Her eyes didn"t glow the way Farlain eyes would glow, but they were large and blue, surrounded by thick, dark lashes. Dirt smudged her face but she had a small, straight nose, round cheeks, and full, pink lips.

His gaze snagged on her mouth for a second when she licked her lips nervously, but he forced himself to continue his assessment. She was young but not in the first flush of youth, and her body was small but unexpectedly lush beneath the brief gown. Even her bare feet were small and curvy, her toes curling slightly on the filthy stone floor.

"I am Cronan." When she only gave him a blank stare, he added reluctantly, "I am the new King of Farlain."

"What happened to the old one?"

"He no longer walks this earth."

"Good. I hope the bastard died slowly and painfully." She pushed herself to her feet, even though her legs trembled, and approached the bars. "Are you going to let me out of here, or are you just like him?"