Chapter 1
My dearest Brother,
It is my sad duty to inform you that our father is dying. I know that you and he had a falling-out, but I beseech you dear brother to take the opportunity to make amends before it is too late. Mother has been asking for you and she greatly needs your comfort and support. I hope to see you very soon. I love you and I miss you.
Your Loving Sister,
Karissa
Ranger Lord Braeden Crenda ignored his first impulse to throw his sister’s letter into the fire. She always had a kind and forgiving heart and simply couldn’t imagine that her father would never forgive his son for being rholar—a man who loved other men. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly as if steeling himself for combat. He would have to go home to Ajalanadra. He was the eldest child and only son. He would have to settle his father’s affairs and see to the care of his mother.
“Is it bad news?”
Braeden started at the sound of Lord Emiren’s voice. As stronghold lord, she had a right to know if something was happening that would affect the smooth running of the stronghold. As his long-time friend, she would want to know because she cared. A wave of grief surprised him, clouding his vision and choking his ability to speak. He let it pass, cleared his throat and replied, “My father is dying. I’ll need to leave for a while—a month, maybe more.”
Lord Emiren’s eyes softened with sympathy. “Braeden, I’m so sorry. I know you had your differences with him, but he’s still your father.”
He clenched his jaw and nodded. “Aye. A fact I’m sure he’d like to forget.” He waved off her attempts at consolation. He had long since resigned himself to the loss of his father’s regard. “Whatever he thinks of me, it is still my responsibility to take care of my family during this time.” He absently twisted the rune etched gold ring on his index finger. “I’ll be leaving right after I change and pack. I’ll send a message every week with an update.”
“Thank you, Braeden, but there’s no need for all that trouble. I trust you’ll be back when you’re ready.”
Braeden gave her quick half-smile. “It’s more for me to keep my sanity. It will remind me that I have somewhere to go when it’s all over.”
Lord Emiren laughed. “Well I suppose I cannot deny you your sanity.” She went to him and gave him a quick hug. “Take care of yourself.”
He returned her embrace. “I will. I promise.” He turned to leave her office, but then turned back. “Celene, you know that new trainee?”
“We have eight new trainees,” she replied. “You’ll have to be more specific.”
He ran his fingers through his shoulder length, dark hair. “Right. I’m talking about Kaen. He’s…like me. I noticed he’s pretty skittish and has a hard time trusting people. I suspect he’s had a difficult time of it. Just keep an eye on him. He doesn’t talk much and I don’t want anyone to take advantage of him because he won’t speak up for himself.”
“Will do,” Celene said.
“Thank you,” Braeden replied. “I’ll be back to say goodbye before I leave.”
He was thirteen years old again shivering in the cold rain that fell outside his father’s castle. The boy whom he had kissed ran away when his father caught them and he was alone. Braeden’s body curled in as it had done on that day twenty-five years ago. His heart hammered in his chest, his breath came in short gasps. Tears formed behind his closed eyes. His own father hated him enough to throw him out of the castle with only the clothes on his back.
Braeden forced himself to straighten up. He grasped the hilt of his sword with his left hand and took a deep breath. He was no longer a child. He was a man full-grown. He was a Ranger Lord in a position of power at Keslu stronghold. His father had no power over him unless Braeden yielded it and he would never do that again. He was here only for his mother and his sisters.
A pair of guards met him halfway into the outer courtyard, swords drawn. A stranger suddenly appearing inside the gates was certainly cause for alarm. The younger of the two moved closer and said, “Stop right there and state your business.”
Braeden met the other man’s gaze calmly. “I am Braeden Lord Crenda. I am here to see my father, Count Crenda.”
The young guard leveled his sword at Braeden’s chest. “The count doesn’t have a son.”
Braeden did not move, nor did his expression change. He glanced down at the blade and then into the eyes of the man who held it. “Stand. Down.”
Whatever the younger man saw in Braeden’s eyes caused his own eyes to go wide in fear. He lowered his sword. His voice trembled slightly when he spoke. “You cannot threaten the Count’s guard.” He reached for a horn on his belt but his companion stayed his hand.
The older guard tilted his head slightly as he stared intently at Braeden. A grin spread across his face. “By all that’s holy if isn’t the little Count. Only not so little anymore.” He glanced at the dagger on Braeden’s sword belt. “And a Ranger lord to boot. So that’s where you’ve been all these years.”
Braeden’s brow furrowed in concentration. “Rubiar?”
The older man brought his fist to his breastplate in a salute. “Yes my lord. It’s good to see you back.”
“Thank you,” Braeden replied. “How is the Count?”
Rubiar shook his head. “Not good. He doesn’t recognize anyone but the Countess. The Priests come and go and nothing changes.”
“Aye,” Braeden said. “There are some things even Priests cannot cure.” He squared his shoulders. “I should go find the Countess.”
“Allow me to escort you inside my lord,” Rubiar said. “It will be easier since no one will recognize you.”
“Of course,” Braeden replied.
Rubiar motioned for the younger guard to return to his post while he walked with Braeden toward the ornate double doors that led into the castle. The outer courtyard gardens were in full bloom and the sound of birds calling filled the morning air. There was a cool breeze, but the sun was warm on Braeden’s face. The beauty of the day did little to ease the tension in his body. For him it was still a wet, cold day twenty-five years before. The closer he got to the doors, the more his body tensed and the more reluctant his feet were to carry him forward.
Braeden was so intent on forcing himself to continue walking that, when the door to the castle flew open, he had his sword drawn before he saw it was his sister Karissa careening toward him. She wore a deep purple velvet gown which accentuated her fair skin and long dark hair. He quickly sheathed his weapon and opened his arms wide to receive her exuberant embrace. “Braeden!” There were tears in her eyes when she kissed both of his cheeks. “You came!”
“Of course I came,” he replied. “You know I could never refuse you anything.”
“Huh,” she replied skeptically.
He smiled impishly. “Well, almost never.” He nodded to Rubiar. “Thank you for your offer of an escort, but I think my sister knows the way.”
Rubiar saluted. “Yes my lord.”
Karissa hooked her arm through Braeden’s. “I saw you coming up the walk, but you were moving so slowly I couldn’t wait any longer.”
“Ah yes.” He sighed softly. “It is not easy being back here.”
“I know. I appreciate you coming and I know mother will be so happy.”
“Does she know I’m here?” he asked.
Karissa shook her head. “I didn’t tell her because I wasn’t sure you would come.”
He pulled her closer. “Despite everything, I will always take care of you and mother. I will be there for you whenever you need me.”
She squeezed his arm. “I do love you, brother.”
“And I love you,” he replied with a smile. They reached the doors and Braeden paused, centered himself and stepped inside.
Four pure white marble columns soared up to meet the beautifully detailed mosaic on the domed ceiling of the entry hall. Braeden remembered lying in the middle of the floor staring up at the mosaic until someone came along and made him move. At the time he thought it was the most beautiful thing in the world. Armored guards stood at attention as they walked by, no doubt in deference to his sister, since he was sure they didn’t know who he was. Memories assailed him as he walked down the wide hallway lined with colorful tapestries and portraits of past Counts and Countesses. Only his sister’s hold on his arm kept him from turning around and running out the way he came.
When they passed by the room that served as his father’s study, a shudder went through his entire body. It was there that his father had pronounced him a perverted freak and expelled him from the castle and the life of his family. It was only through the loving kindness of his then ten year old sister Karissa and his mother that he did not die of want on the streets of Valdea. Karissa must have sensed his pain because she slipped her arm around his waist and pulled him close. “I’m here for you,” she whispered.
“I know,” he whispered back. He straightened up and asked, “How are Marcello and my niece and nephews?”
Karissa smiled. “Marcello is wonderful as always. The children are driving me crazy—as always. They will be here later today. They’ll be beside themselves with joy when they find out you’re here.”
Braeden chuckled. “I forgot to bring them gifts. I hope they won’t be too disappointed.”
Karissa rolled her eyes. “Please. They don’t need any more gifts.”
“But I like to spoil them,” he said with a grin.
“I know,” she replied. “And they’re unbearable for weeks afterward.” She turned down another long hallway. “Come on. Mother is in her library.”
“I thought she’d be with father,” Braeden said.
Karissa shook her head. “It’s too hard for her to be with him all the time. He gets…angry and sometimes violent. Ugo stays with him and sees to his needs most of the time.”
Braeden made a sound of surprise. “Ugo is still here? The way father yelled at him all the time, I would have thought he’d have left by now.”
Karissa shook her head. “Ugo is very devoted.”
“How well I know,” he said softly. He sank back into the memory of Ugo dragging him out of his father’s study and out of the castle. He stopped walking. “This was a bad idea. No one here will accept me. I won’t be of any help to you.”
Karissa turned to face him and took both of his hands in hers. “That’s not true. In the first place, only a few people know why you left.”
His stomach twisted. “Left? I didn’t leave. I was thrown out, remember? In the cold, in the rain with only the clothes on my back. I can only assume father hoped I would die so he would be saved the embarrassment of having a son like me.”
Karissa lowered her voice. “Braeden, please. Mother has wanted you to come home since that day.”
Braeden felt the walls closing in on him. “Karissa…”
A door opened down the hall and a woman emerged. Braeden hadn’t seen his mother in over five years. Countess Elemira Crenda was still a beautiful woman, regal and proud, with just a few strands of silver in her dark hair to mark the passage of years. Like Karissa, she wore purple, a sign of impending mourning. The last time he had seen her—one of only three times since he went to the stronghold—she had begged him, once again, to come home and allow his father to forgive him. He heard his own response in his head now as clearly as when he had spoken it five years before. “I will come home when my father understands that I have done nothing for which to be forgiven.”
“Braeden!” she cried out in joy. She hurried over to him. “I heard voices arguing.” She put her hands on either side of his face. “My beautiful boy. How I have missed you.”
Braeden bent down to kiss her cheek. “Hello mother.”
She put her arms around his neck and kissed both his cheeks. “I am so glad you are here.” Her eyes grew bright with tears. “Your father will not be with us much longer. Perhaps you can make your peace with him.”
Braeden closed his eyes and held her close. “I will try.”
She pulled away and patted his cheek. “You always were a good son.” She hooked her arm through his. “Come. The two of you will have tea with me.”
