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Authors: Cheryl Headford

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Hostage (3 page)

BOOK: Hostage
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Rowan’s eyes got wider and wider. “Outside? But he’ll escape!”

“You will walk only in the inner quadrant. You can take him out into the enclosed gardens. There will be a heavy guard presence around the perimeter so no one can get in.”

“I was thinking more about him getting out.”

“That will not be a concern.”

“Well, I think it is. He would have to be pretty poor not to make a run for it.”

“Trust me, he won’t be running anywhere.”

Rowan narrowed his eyes. “Why not?”

“There are prisons other than those encased in stone, Rowan.”

“I don’t understand.”

Ragnor gave him a look that seemed to ask
What’s new?
“Every day you will come here before breakfast and eat with him. You will then exercise for one hour. At midday you will come again and have your midday meal with him, then you will exercise for two hours. After dinner you will come and feed him
his
dinner. On this occasion you will not exercise, but you will spend at least half an hour conversing together.”

“I have nothing to say to him.”

“Then you had better find something, or you will have an extremely boring time.”

“Does no one else see how crazy this is? He’s a Class One Prisoner. He’s dangerous. He’ll—”

“He will not be dangerous, Rowan. I can personally vouch for that.”

Rowan gave Ragnor a hard look. “What are you going to do to him?”

“That is not your concern. Your concern is to learn a few simple procedures and carry them out religiously. If you do, then you will be safe—we will all be safe. I will take care of the rest.”

“What procedures?” Rowan asked, intrigued now.

Ragnor directed Rowan to the side of the bed and showed him the apparatus that controlled the drugs being constantly pumped into Astrin’s body through the tubes in his arms.

“First you press this button here—Rowan, are you paying attention?” Rowan tore his eyes away from Astrin and nodded.

“Sure. Yes. Totally. That button there. The green one.”

“No, Rowan, the red one.”

“Okay… the red one. I’ve got it.”

“Then, you wait fifteen seconds.” Rowan nodded. “Then you disconnect here.”

“Do I have to?”

“Yes, you do.”

“Okay… what do I do then?”

“Nothing. Within a few moments, Prince Astrin will wake. I suggest you introduce yourself and give him his food, then get him up and outside as soon as possible. It will take your mind off the great chore of having to talk to him,” Ragnor said dryly.

“Ha-ha. What about the other—oh, it’s gone.”

“I’ve changed the medication to one that is much more aggressive. It is extremely quick-acting but has a very short metabolizing time. Essentially, as long as he’s attached to the pump, he’ll be deep under, but as soon as he’s disconnected, he’ll wake.”

“Why haven’t you been using these all along?”

“They’re too aggressive for long-term use. It would damage him. With the last stage of the peace talks starting tomorrow, I’m hoping we won’t need to keep him for much longer.”

“Okay.”

Rowan turned away.

“Not so fast, Rowan. I haven’t finished yet.”

Rowan sighed, turning back. “Okay… so what? Press the button, disconnect, feed, and exercise. I can deal with that as long as you aren’t going to hold me responsible for cutting him down when he tries to escape.”

“He will not try to escape, Rowan. Now, listen.”

“I’m listening. I’m listening,” Rowan grumbled. Ragnor sighed and shook his head.

“When you bring him back, reconnect the pump and press the green button.”

“Then what happens?”

“He’ll lose consciousness very quickly. Wait until the number on that screen reaches fifteen, which should only be a few moments—make sure it doesn’t go any higher than twenty—then you can leave.”

“What if it goes higher than twenty?”

“Call me straightaway.”

“And you’re sure he won’t try to run?”

“Yes, Rowan.”

“Okay, do I start now?”

“No. He has to be prepared. I’ll take him down to the treatment room in a few minutes. The procedures will take some hours.”

Rowan’s eyes sparkled. “Procedures? Will they hurt?”

“That was beneath you, Rowan,” Ragnor said, tight-lipped.

“I make no secret of the fact I hate him. After what House Raphael did to my parents, I would like nothing more than to thrust my dagger through his heart right now. I know I can’t do that, but forgive me if I really don’t care whether he’s hurt or not.”

“Not caring is one thing, actively wishing harm to another human being—especially one in his position—is another, and it is not acceptable,” Ragnor said severely. Rowan shrugged.

“That young man has done no harm to you or anyone else as far as we know. He is not responsible for the actions of his father. Because of you—because of your stubborn determination to hate him no matter what, and for no reason other than to teach you a lesson you really shouldn’t need to learn—an innocent boy is going to be hurt tonight, and yes, it
will
hurt.

“More than that, Rowan, because of you I am forced to inflict pointless suffering on someone who in no way deserves it. I will not take pleasure in it—and the day I
do
take pleasure in it will be the day I hand in my badge and walk away.”

“What? I’m expected to feel guilty?”

“No, Rowan. No one is expecting you to feel guilty. No one is expecting you to feel anything at all. I just think it is something you should bear in mind over the next few days when you get to know him, to speak to him, to spend time with him. Every night I will have to reinforce the conditioning, every night I will have to hurt him—and every time it will hurt
me
.”

Rowan shrugged again. “Whatever.”

“I think it best if you leave now. He is going to have a rough night, so be here at twelve for the midday meal. Food will be served here. You have no need to bring anything.”

“Will you be here?”

“For the first day, I will supervise the disconnection and reconnection, just to make sure everything is working as it should. After that you will manage alone.”

Scowling, Rowan turned and strode out.

Of course he was not able to find his uncle, and that made him angrier. He wanted to storm out, to refuse to accept this twisted new duty, to spit in his uncle’s face and tell him to stop trying to force him into a relationship—
any
kind of relationship—with someone he hated so much. And Gods, he hated Astrin. He wanted nothing more than to punch that angel face and keep on and on and on until there was nothing left—just like there was nothing left of his parents.

He didn’t sleep that night, tormented with images of his parents’ death. The worst thing was, he didn’t know precisely how they’d died. All he knew was there’d been an attack on the convoy they were traveling in. Missiles were launched at the lead and flank vehicles, but it was so unexpected, so fast, that when they exploded and spun out of control, the other vehicles couldn’t avoid hitting and being hit by them. Every vehicle, every person in the convoy had gone up in a massive fireball that left nothing but charred and mangled metal, a few chips of unidentifiable bone, and a scorch mark on the road that was still a site of pilgrimage to this day. Not that Rowan had been there—he hadn’t been allowed.

For years he’d had recurring dreams. They were always the same: dreams of fire and burning metal. He’d scream at his parents, whom he’d made beautiful and heroic in his mind, trying to pull them from the blaze, only to watch their faces melt.

The dream had left him alone now for six or seven years. He’d thrown himself into the lessons his uncle had set for him to prepare him for his role as king. When he was asked to take self-defense lessons, he trained every day until he was able to best the instructors—even though he crawled into bed every night bruised and sometimes bleeding. At least he was too exhausted to dream.

When he was asked to research the history of the Houses, he spent hours poring over computer screens, books in the library, and original documents in the archive. He went to bed with an aching head and spinning mind, but still no dreams.

And so it went with every task set him, every discipline he was introduced to—to the point where his uncle and sister, Melissa, had become concerned for his health. Eventually, he’d exhausted himself, both mentally and physically, and they had sent him away to the family estate on the coast. Under Ragnor’s constant and gentle care, Rowan began to pull his way back. The dreams went away, and he broke free of the spiral of self-destruction.

And now—now the dream was back, and it was Astrin’s fault. Rowan felt a strong urge to go to his room and spit in his face, but then he remembered Astrin wouldn’t be there. He should have had a moment of regret that an innocent boy was suffering because of him, because of Rowan’s inability to let go of the past. He was unable to forgive, and because he couldn’t get to the father, he was taking it out on the son. The regret never came—there was no room with all that anger.

Rowan was afraid to go back to sleep. He was afraid the dream would come again. He got up and walked in the gardens under the stars, then went to the gym and tortured his body until the sun came up, when he collapsed into bed and into a dreamless sleep.

Of course he slept late the following morning and missed breakfast. Feeling tired, irritable, and sore, he managed to get himself dressed just in time to say good-bye to his uncle in the courtyard as Charles was about to get into his car.

“There you are, Rowan. Did you have a late night?”

“I had the dream, Uncle. Thanks to that—” Rowan hung his head, causing his uncle to put a hand on his shoulder. Rowan looked up, and Charles gazed deeply into his eyes.

“I didn’t mean for you to be hurt, Rowan, and I still don’t, but this is something you have to face. Better now than when you are king.”

“But why? Why do I have to babysit the imbecile? I understand that I have to have some kind of relationship with him when we are both heading our Houses, and I understand that next year I’m going to have to sit and talk with his father, but why do I have to
like
it?”

“It’s not a matter of liking it, Rowan. It’s a matter of learning to live with it, and you haven’t done that. Despite everything we have done to help you, you have still not learned to live with it. I had hoped taking care of Astrin would help you achieve it. I was wrong. This is my last shot. I’m not doing this for Astrin, or for the country… or for anything but you, Rowan. You are haunted by ghosts you have to lay to rest before they destroy you. Do you understand?”

Rowan thought about it, about the desperation he’d felt the night before when he’d woken from the dream screaming. He thought about how out of control he was when he thought about House Raphael, how much he wanted to hurt Astrin for no reason other than who he was. Sadly, he bit his lip and nodded. Charles squeezed his shoulder.

“I hope this won’t take long, Rowan. If we are fortunate, I will be home within the week, and we will send Astrin back to his family. Let me tell you something, something that perhaps might help. Tonight, when I get to the Heart of the West, I will be met by Hersten and Agnes, and we will share a family dinner. They will talk to me about Astrin, and I will talk to them about you. We will reminisce about a time when we were all friends: Hersten and Agnes, your Aunt Seraphina and myself—and your parents. They will tell me over and over again how sorry they are about what happened. We will weep and drink and talk until we are tired but calm.

“Tomorrow at the negotiating table, Hersten and I will be ruthless. I will tell him what we have done to his son and what we will continue to do to him until a peace is sealed. Remember, when you speak with Astrin, that soon his father will be speaking to him—a father to his son, his life, his pride and joy, his hope… who won’t even know him.

“For those such as we, with the weight of power and responsibility on our shoulders, there will always be hard decisions to make. There will always be choices, and in those choices, the country—the people—come before friendship, but that does not mean it has to break it.”

Rowan was shocked to the core. He stared at his uncle and shivered. “Why have you not told me this before?”

“Because you have not been in a place to hear it. Go to Astrin, speak with him, and try to understand.”

“I—I’m not supposed to go until twelve.”

“Ragnor will be waiting.”

“Yes, sir.”

Charles embraced his nephew. “Heavy is the head that bears the crown. Never were truer words spoken. Take good care of yourself, Rowan—and take good care of Astrin too. He is going to need you, almost as much as you need him.”

“I don’t need him,” Rowan snapped, almost automatically, but there was a note of uncertainty there now.

As Charles had said, Ragnor was waiting in Astrin’s room. Everything seemed exactly as it had been the day before, as if Astrin had not moved at all, except there was something about him, something different, something… restless and strained, although he was not moving. Perhaps Rowan was simply imagining it because of what he knew.

C
HAPTER
T
HREE

A
STRIN

 

 

R
OWAN
WAS
still reluctant to be here, still unable to look at Astrin without anger flaring in his guts, but he was perhaps a little more understanding of why he had to put that aside.

“Do you remember what I told you yesterday?”

“Yes.”

“Then do it.”

Grimly, Rowan pressed the red button on the drug pump and disconnected it from Astrin’s arm.

“Well done.”

“It wasn’t exactly difficult, Ragnor. Now what?”

“Say hello to Astrin.”

Rowan spun around and stared at the still figure in the bed. It was still no more. The boy moaned softly, rolled his head on the pillows, and licked his lips. Rowan was still angry, but he was also curious now.
I bet he’s got blue eyes
, he thought sarcastically.

BOOK: Hostage
8.69Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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