Page 2 of Rumors of War

“Your father is gone, Kalen, and he would have wanted me to be happy and not climb into the grave with him.”

For Kalen it was a hideous and hurtful betrayal and totally unforgiveable. His age had never been brought up as an issue before. Why was she making it one?

Yet Brandalla’s “concerns” helped sway the council’s decision to hesitate and hedge their bets by naming Nerol the Lord Regent “until Prince Kalen’s twenty-first birthday.” For Kalen, it was insupportable, made more so by the fact it had been his own mother who had suggested it. Kalen didn’t understand any of this, and it was causing him to be indecisive for the first time in his life.

As Prince and Warlord over all the Lorian armed forces, Kalen’s could easily have called on his army, which was fiercely loyal to both him and his late father. They knew of Kalen’s strength and bravery and were proud to have him as their Warlord. Had he but said the word, the Army would forcibly wrest the crown from his uncle’s grasp and depose both him and the Council. Kalen wanted badly to do just that. But his planet was facing a new threat from a confederation of planets known as The Pton, and their planetary defense had to take priority over any internal disputes. This coming threat couldn’t be happening at a worse time. The Axis had promised aid, but Kalen, as the leader of the Planetary Forces of Loros, needed to prepare for a possible invasion, and not be distracted by his own issues, grave as they might be.

There still might be time. It would take The Pton another year or perhaps even longer to reach Loros, due to the extraordinary distances between them and the attacking forces. He was tempted to give his army the order for an immediate attack on his uncle, but Nerol had quietly been building a secretive compound on his country estate, on the western edges of the capitol city. There he had built up his own private forces over the long years, and in addition, he was known to be extremely wealthy. Kalen had no idea what it was that he had done to amass his great fortune. Kalen suspected his father had known something of what his uncle was doing but had downplayed it out of his love for his younger brother.

The ragtag “army” his uncle had amassed consisted mostly of mercenaries and thieves, as far as Kalen knew, but their numbers were large, and they were vicious, lawless men, many with a price on their head. His uncle even had a large landing dock on his estate, and many ships had been seen traveling in and out of his estate with alarming frequency—alarming to Kalen anyway.

Whatever his uncle was doing inside that fortress-like estate of his was no doubt larcenous, but he had never been able to convince his father to investigate. When Kalen finally killed the son-of-a-bitch, he would tear down the operation, whatever it was, along with the fortress walls—stone by stone.

Though he had no doubt he would eventually win, any kind of all-out war between his legitimate army and his uncle’s forces would be long and bloody, with many casualties among his soldiers. Even worse, his uncle had warned Kalen just that morning that he wouldn’t hesitate to attack civilian targets if there was a move against him. In great detail, he’d described how he would rip their world apart with the fight. Who needed the Pton, when there was an even greater threat from within?

Nerol had given Kalen a choice. Go along with the plan to name him Lord Regent and give him the “two years” it would take Kalen to reach his majority. Nerol said that after that time, he would retire back to his estate. Perhaps he would even leave the planet.

Kalen had his solemn vow.

Which, of course, wasn’t worth a fucking thing.

“If you refuse to do the sensible thing and comply with what I want, then I’m afraid your poor mother might suffer,” Nerol had told him. “You don’t want to losebothyour parents, do you, son?”

It was pure blackmail, but until Kalen had a plan, he had no choice but to go along. Though he was furious and broken-hearted about his mother—she was still his mother. He wasn’t even sure if he believed his uncle’s threats toward her. He had a sick feeling she was in on this thing up to her neck, but even though he was trying to harden his heart toward her, he wasn’t quite there yet.

He had to find out exactly what Nerol’s operation was and just what he was doing inside that fortress. Ideally, he could find a course of action that wouldn’t involve all-out war, because his uncle was ruthless and would see their world burn to the ground before admitting defeat.

Meanwhile, the army was restless and spoiling for a fight. They knew of the looming threat from the Pton and they were edgy and already feeling the strain. Nerol couldn’t afford another royal family death so soon, and he knew better than anyone that the people would take arms and rise up against him if anything happened to Kalen right away. So, Kalen thought he must be biding his time, promising him whatever he could and using vague threats against his mother to keep him in line. Kalen knew all of this, and he also knew that if he did nothing, he would meet some kind of tragic “accident” or be the victim of some ploy to get rid of him permanently.

But still, Kalen waited and worried and had no idea what action to take first.

He knew he had to act, but his father had warned him often about his hot temper and about not thinking things through before he took action. He had to find out more about what his uncle was up to on that “country estate,” and how that had factored into his father’s murder. And he needed to discover what plans his uncle had forhimbefore it was too late.

Once he did, though, he would kill his uncle for his crimes against his father. Slowly and torturously—he would make Nerol regret being born before he was through with him.

Meanwhile, his uncle was still rambling on, subtly maligning Kalen’s character. He had to clench his hands on the armrests of his chair to keep from jumping to his feet, slitting his uncle’s throat and tossing his miserable carcass down the stone steps.

Quietly seething, he told himself firmly that now wasn’t the right time.

It wasn’t.

Really.

But soon, damn it—very soon.

Kalen continued watching the show his uncle was putting on with no expression, as a member of the King’s Council, a smarmy little man named Herv Connell, came up to make more announcements praising the new Regent. He told the crowd below them about how much Nerol wanted to be “of service” and how he cared so much for the Lorian people. Herv darted a quick glance over at Kalen afterward, maybe to see how Kalen was receiving this load of shit, and the man’s face paled as he saw the hard, cold expression on Kalen’s face. Good. Connell should be afraid, as he was very near the top of Kalen’s list and would be among the first to die when the time came.

The rain began to pelt down harder from the sullen skies, so as Herv wrapped it up, his uncle whispered something to Queen Brandalla. Pulling her cloak over her long, silky, dark hair, she took Nerol’s arm and allowed him to escort her inside. She glanced at Kalen with an unreadable expression as she left the dais. It made something twist inside his chest.

Were there real threats to his mother? Kalen wasn’t sure, yet when he’d questioned her, about Nerol, she simply shook her head and begged him to not cause any trouble.

Not cause anytrouble?

He’d always known his mother was weak—she’d never had to be strong, because his father had taken care of her, seeing to it that she was never disturbed by anything more arduous than which dress she’d wear or what she might have for breakfast. Kalen would try his best to care for her now, but she should never have agreed to marry Nerol, no matter what his threats had been or how many jewels he flashed in front of her face. A part of him wondered if it had just been so much easier—if she had given in because she wanted an untroubled life. And a wealthy one. He hated the idea, and it felt disloyal, but it had taken root in his head and refused to be dislodged.

Still, he’d noticed the bruises on her arms that morning, and one faint one along her delicate throat. Was it a sign of abuse or was it from his uncle’s rough and clumsy lovemaking?

Either idea was insupportable and disgusting, adding further fuel to Kalen’s rage.

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