Page 127 of The Champion

“Halt!” one of the two guards flanking it said as he drew near.

Stryder ignored them.

They started to grab him only to find themselves flat on their backs as he moved them aside and swung open the portal.

Damien looked up in startled surprise.

But it was Stryder who was shocked most as he came face to face with Damien, who wasn’t masked or robed. His old friend sat on a padded chair, flanked by two physicians as one of them took a cup from Damien’s hands.

Damien’s hair was still the same golden blond shade, but unlike the days of their boyhood when he had kept it cut short, Damien wore it long and braided down his back. His amber colored eyes glowed with unmitigated rage.

Stryder couldn’t breathe as he saw the black tattoos that had been placed upon Damien’s cheeks. One below each eye, they ran parallel to the man’s cheekbones. Stryder had no idea what they said, but it was obvious they were words and not symbols.

If not for those marks, Damien’s face would have been flawless in its beauty.

“How dare you!” Damien snarled, coming to his feet. He rushed to a table on the other side of the room where he seized a golden mask and held it up to shield his face from Stryder. The mask was an exact duplication of what Damien’s face would have looked like had it not been damaged by his captors.

The physicians started toward Damien, but he pushed them away. “Leave me!”

The guards came forward to take Stryder who quickly shrugged off their hands.

“I want to talk to you,” Stryder snarled, “and I won’t leave here until I do.”

Damien glared at him as he tied the mask to his face. With a furious jerk of his head, he indicated to his guards and physicians to leave them alone.

They did so reluctantly.

Stryder continued to watch Damien as he waited for them to close the door and leave them in peace.

Dressed in a scarlet surcoat and hose, Damien still wore gloves even though he was indoors. For once the prince didn’t bother to reach for his cape as he closed some of the distance between them.

“Whatever you have to say, you’d best make it quick,” Damien said in a low, gravelly tone.

Stryder went straight to the heart of the matter. “Why did you send Alexander to me?”

Damien pulled up short at the name. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Who is Alexander?”

“You know who he is, Damien,” he said between clenched teeth. “Don’t play your games with me or with that child. So help me, if you do, I will see you in the ground regardless of consequences to myself.”

He had a strange feeling that his words somehow pleased his one time friend.

Damien moved to stand behind a chair, with his hand on the high, ornate back of it. When he spoke, his tone was low, almost as if he was afraid someone would overhear them. “So, you will protect him?”

If he didn’t know better, Stryder would almost swear he heard hope in Damien’s voice.

“Are you planning on using him against me?”

Damien laughed coldly. Ironically. “Nay. I will not.”

“Do you swear it?”

Damien smiled. “Even if I did, would you believe me?”

Nay, he wouldn’t. How could he, when Damien had already confessed to the fact he hated him?

“Why did you tell him I was his father?”

Damien looked away and took his time answering that question. “I didn’t know what to tell him when he asked me. So, I tried to think of someone he should admire and strive to be.” Damien locked gazes with him and the hatred there was searing. “The only person I could think of who was honorable, was you. How pathetic am I?”