WindLegends Saga 9: WindRetriever (13 page)

"I seek the one called Sajin," Raine called out, his dark sapphire eyes shifting over those gathered. The alien gaze settled on the Kensetti and held. "You are he?"

Sajin nodded. He wiped his mouth on his napkin and, pushing his chair back, stood up.

"How is he?"

"Still unconscious," Raine said in a dry voice. "My dam wishes to speak with you."

"The operation went all right, didn't it?" Balizar asked, also standing.

"He is still alive," the little boy answered. His fathomless gaze shifted to Yuri. "Your lady has asked that you take the first shift this evening. Is this agreeable to you?"

Yuri Andreanova threw down his fork. "It is." He came from around the table. "Is he still in that room at the top of the stairs?"

Raine shook his head. "My sire has been moved to a more comfortable room."

"Your sire?" Sajin questioned.

The little boy's full lips turned down in a slight scowl. "If you look closely at me, Prince Sajin, you will no doubt see the resemblance."

Azalon whistled softly. "Fancy that," he mumbled. "I wonder if Khamsin knows."

Raine ignored the Rysalian merchant. He swung his attention to Sajin. "Are you coming, nomad?"

The Kensetti Prince's brows shot up. "Like father, like son," he muttered as he fell into step behind the little boy.

Raine was quiet as he led the way up the stairs and down a long corridor which ran the length of the third floor. He tapped once at a closed door then entered, standing aside to allow Sajin to pass.

Sajin Ben-Alkazar was stunned by the luxuriousness of the room into which he'd been led.

Fine silk tapestries woven with brightly-hued yarn shot through with golden thread hung from the black walls. A thick pile carpet of royal blue adorned the stone floor and the room blazed with dozens of glowing tapers in what appeared to be real gold sconces. The light cast back from the crystal globes over the candles arced flares of light along the richly polished oak furniture. Damask divans were ranged along one wall, an ornate writing desk along another. At the north end of the room, against a panel of tapestry that depicted woodland nymphs and satyrs engaged in sexual surrender, stood a magnificent brass bed with intricate swirls and finials along the headboard and footboard. On a table in the center of the room stood a canister of hand-blown glass with two tulip-shaped crystal goblets. The canister sparkled with a rich red glow that could only be the finest claret wine. Fruit and cheeses were piled atop a pewter platter and there was a loaf of freshly-baked bread that gave off its delicious aroma.

"My dam bids you make yourself comfortable. She will attend you as soon as she has assured herself my sire is resting comfortably." Raine made to leave but stopped, his young face filled with irritation as Sajin asked why he insisted on calling his parents by the biological appellation. "Because that is what they are," the child answered, closing the door behind him.

"Why not call them 'seed disperser' and 'incubator'?" Sajin grumbled, disliking the little boy Charlotte Boyett-Compo WINDRETRIEVER 59

immensely.

He walked about the room, fingering the tapestries, running his hand over the high sheen on the elaborate desk. He pinched off a piece of bread, nodding at the flavor and had just popped a succulent grape in his mouth when the door opened and Raphaella Chastayne came into the room.

"Oh, my God," Sajin breathed, allowing his stunned gaze to slide slowly down the woman.

He nearly choked on the grape as he swallowed, forgetting the fruit was in his mouth. He coughed, his face turning red.

"Here," Raphaella laughed as she came to him and offered him a goblet of the claret.

He hadn't even seen her pour it, he thought as he tipped the goblet and drained the claret before realizing that he had. His eyes watered at the wine's bite, but he managed to swallow the last gulp without coughing again.

"You should be more careful, nomad," Raphaella warned him. "That drink could have been poisoned."

Sajin stared at her. She bore a strong resemblance to Rachel Stone, but this woman was the most intoxicating female he could ever remember seeing. He wanted to fling himself on her and tear into her like a rutting beast. The bulge in his trousers seemed to have a life of its own and was demanding to be fed.

"I am Raphaella," she told him and took the empty goblet from his frozen fingers. Her arms curled around his neck. "And I am yours for the asking, milord."

Her touch elicited such a strong response in his anatomy, Sajin felt as though he would explode if he did not have this woman. He put trembling hands on her hips and drew her as close to him as space would allow.

"Are you hungry, nomad?' she asked in a throaty voice.

"Starving," he heard himself answer just as her body slid up his and molded to him.

"Shall I feed you, my lover?" she whispered, her lips against his.

Sajin felt her tongue slide over his lips and he was lost. His fingers dug into her buttocks and lifted her to him. Swinging around, he carried her to the bed and fell on her, his aching shaft straining to drive deep inside her willing body. As he freed himself and positioned her, he heard her laughter.

Rupine dragged a tired hand over his face and let out a weary sigh. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he squeezed his lids shut and tried to relax. Yuri's incessant pacing was tiring him out even more and he wished he had the nerve to tell the Shadow-warrior to stop.

"How long is he going to sleep?" Yuri suddenly asked, making Rupine jump.

The physician looked up. "No one knows the answer to that, Andreanova. He could wake tonight. It could be five days from now."

Yuri scowled. "Five days?"

"Or five minutes," Rupine sighed.

The Outer Kingdom warrior continued his pacing.

Rupine heaved himself wearily from his chair and walked over to Conar McGregor's bed.

He laid his index and middle fingers on the side of the Outlander's neck and felt for the strong pulse that seemed steadier than it had an hour before. Checking the bandage at the back of his patient's head, Rupine then lifted both of McGregor's eyelids and peered carefully at the pupils.

"What do you look for when you do that?" Yuri demanded, coming to look over Rupine's shoulder.

Rupine's mouth tightened, but he tried to make the Outer Kingdom man understand.

Charlotte Boyett-Compo WINDRETRIEVER 60

"If the pupils are fixed and dilated, then we have something to worry about. If they react to light, such as his did just then. his healing is progressing normally." Rupine saw the scrunch of confusion on the warrior's beefy face and explained what dilation meant.

"Ah," Yuri answered, not understanding at all, but it seemed the right thing to say. He resumed his heavy pacing.

Rupine adjusted the covers over Conar's bare chest and was about to turn away when he saw a hitch in that wide chest and stopped, turning back to watch the rise and fall. The rhythm had changed. There was no longer a slow, steady lifting of the chest, but a ragged, quicker lift.

"He's waking," Rupine said quietly. Even before he finished speaking, he felt the heavy hand of the warrior on his shoulder.

"Are you sure?" Yuri asked, looking closely at the Serenian's still face. He didn't see even a flicker of those long tawny lashes to indicate Conar was coming out of his coma.

"There," Rupine said, pointing to the twitch of the Outlander's fingers. "He's waking."

Andreanova held his breath, willing those remarkable sapphire eyes to open. He scanned the pale face of his Overlord, worry clouding his own blunt features, and reached down to take Conar's hand in his own.

Rupine smiled as the Serenian's lids fluttered open. Although the man's eyes were glazed, unfocused, the pupils had shifted suddenly into a fine dot from the glare of the lamp by his bedside.

"Milord?" Rupine asked in a soft voice. As Conar's gaze shifted toward him, Rupine reached down to stroke his forehead. "Do you hear me, Khamsin?"

He tried to speak, but couldn't. Only a groan came out. He couldn't quite see who was talking to him, the room seemed very dark, but he thought it sounded like Rupine. He tried to speak again.

"Can you squeeze my hand?" the man he thought was Rupine asked.

He felt a hand slide into his own and he weakly grasped the questing fingers.

"Good!" he heard. "Now, the other hand."

He gripped those fingers, as well.

"Excellent!" Hands moved down his legs. "Can you wiggle your toes?" He concentrated.

"Most encouraging! Most encouraging!"

"Are you in pain, milord?" someone else asked.

Conar slowly turned his head toward the sound of the other man's voice. It sounded like Yuri's guttural vibrato.

"Wuh?"

Yuri looked at Rupine. "What did he say?"

Rupine leaned over the bed. "Try again, Khamsin." He put his ear close to Conar's mouth.

"Wuh....err?"

Rupine patted his patient's arm. "In a keep just north of Odess, Khamsin. You were brought here yesterday morning. It is now close to midnight."

"Cath....ren?" came the sigh of helplessness.

"Her Grace?" Rupine nearly shouted with relief when the Outlander nodded slowly. He squeezed Conar's arm. "She is sleeping. Do you want me to go get her."

"Nuh." The Serenian's lids fluttered closed. "Luh....sluhp."

"She should be told," Yuri said and saw the physician nod his agreement. The warrior left in search of his mistress.

"We are here with you, son," Rupine said, drawing a chair up to Conar's bed. "Not for one moment will you be left alone."

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There was a faint grunt, then silence as the Outlander slipped once more into a deep, healing sleep.

Catherine sat up in the bed, her heart thundering in her chest. She didn't know what had awakened her, but every instinct told her she needed to go to Conar's room. Swinging her legs from the bed, she reached for the bed robe Raphaella had lent her. As her fingers touched the silk, the low knock came once more at her door and she realized what must have wakened her from her slumber. With flying feet, she raced to the door and yanked it open.

"He came to," Yuri said without preamble. He wanted to erase the look of stark terror on his lady's face. "He said a few words then went back to sleep, but we thought you should know."

"Have you told her?" Catherine asked, tying the sash of her robe about her. She felt the baby inside her kick in protest and loosened the sash a bit.

"Do you want me to?" Yuri asked.

"There is no need," a small voice spoke from the darker shadows of the corridor.

Catherine looked past Yuri's shoulder to see Raine coming toward them. "You've told her?"

she asked the child.

"She will have known the moment he woke," Raine answered. He stood gazing up at the woman. "Just as you did." He cocked his little head to one side. "My sire has great power over women, does he not?"

For a reason she couldn't explain, Catherine found the remark both unwholesome and insulting. She tore her gaze from the inquisitive sapphire stare and glanced up at Yuri. "Sajin should be alerted."

"He is with my dam," Raine announced as he continued on his way.

"At this time of night?" Catherine asked, then blushed to the roots of her hair as the knowing look from the little boy scalded her. She thought she saw him smile, but upon looking closer, found the full lips had not moved at all. She looked away, unable to meet that worldly stare.

"I don't care for that child," Yuri grumbled as he and Catherine started after the boy.

Raine could hear them speaking as easily as if they had been shouting. His powers were so great not even his own mother knew how strong they were. Nor how vast. His intelligence was far superior to either of his parent's and his intellect was still developing. His understanding of the complexities of male/female relationships would have astounded even the woman who had given birth to him.

Much to his chagrin, he had been stunned upon seeing his father for the first time. The man was now real to him whereas before he had been only tales told to him by his mother. Before that day, Raine could objectively view the man who had helped create him without letting any emotions cloud his judgment. Just as he had learned to do with the woman who had given him life. But now, after surreptitiously studying his sire, the man seemed to instill in Raine a feeling he at first could not identify. After a great deal of thought, however, he began to realize that feeling was pity.

As unaccustomed as the child was to letting his emotions show, he was finding it difficult to maintain his normal air of objectivity where Conar McGregor was concerned. The complex and conflicting emotions that were tumbling around inside him were disturbing to his orderly and precise existence. He was also discovering that his ability to concentrate was suffering, for he was constantly thinking of the man who lay unconscious in the room above his own. This both annoyed and intrigued him. He had always prided himself on being able to detach himself from whatever he found uncomfortable, but with the arrival of his father, he could neither maintain that detachment nor summon it. To his amazed disbelief, he found himself worried about the man and actively Charlotte Boyett-Compo WINDRETRIEVER 62

hoping he did not die.

"You do know," Raine said as he stopped and looked back at Catherine and Yuri, "that the babe within you will be a girl child, do you not?"

Catherine and Yuri exchanged a quick glance. "Yes," the Tzarevna answered. "I do know that."

Raine nodded. "I have four living brothers." He ticked them off on his fingers. "There is Wyn, Tristan, Regan, and Little Brelan." His strange blue glance lowered to Catherine's belly. "A sister will be a nice change." He looked back up and locked his gaze with hers. "I will protect
her
with my life."