Hostage by Cheryl Headford Page A

to Astrin, who watched him dispassionately. He was shocked to see something flicker in those passive but very clear green eyes. Ah, well… what does it matter now?
    “The attack was centered on the royal palace. Sometime this afternoon members of the Royal Elite Force of House Michael entered the palace by force. They killed a number of the Royal Guard, as well as two housemen and some members of the household staff, who tried to fight them off, as they penetrated the private chamber where the peace talks were being conducted.
    “After gaining entry to the chamber, they killed everyone who was there. Except”—he hurried on, seeing the horrified expressions—“your uncle and King Hersten, who were both taken by the attackers. There has been no trace of them since. No word has come from House Michael, and there does not seem to be any motive for the attack.”
    Rowan snorted. “It’s easy to tell you’re not a politician. Motive? What better motive than to prevent peace and safeguard your own House? With peace between the West and North, we would both turn our attention to our other borders, where House Michael and, to a lesser extent, House Uriel have been encroaching for decades. It’s only the skill of our diplomats and the loyalty of our subjects in the borderlands that have prevented our borders from being seriously eroded, especially over the past ten years. The last thing either of the other two Houses wants is for there to be peace.
    “And,” he continued bitterly, “what better way to ensure there is no peace than to remove the two men most likely to achieve it? With both together in the same place, it was the ideal time. Why was there not more security? Why were they not more vigilant?”
    “They wouldn’t have hurt them, would they?” Melissa asked, her voice shaking.
    “I doubt it,” Rowan said, his mind working furiously. “What benefit would they get from it? If matters do not proceed as they suspect, they still have them as bargaining tools.”
    “And how, do you think, they suspect things will progress?” Ragnor asked.
    “I’ve never hidden the feelings I had for House Raphael. It’s common knowledge I hate them for what happened to my parents, and I’ve spent most of my life hating Astrin too. With my uncle and his father out of the way, we both come to the crown early, and what happens next depends on us—sworn enemies, at least on my part. Considering Astrin has spent the last three months as our hostage, it would seem an absolute certainty that we would not continue the peace negotiations. They would expect the war, if anything, to intensify.”
    “You say ‘had,’” Ragnor said.
    “What?” Rowan snapped from his gloomy ponderings; then realizing what he’d said, and how he’d said it, he softened. “Sorry… what do you mean?”
    “You said… the feelings you ‘had’ for House Raphael, not ‘have.’”
    Rowan glanced from Ragnor to Astrin. “Yes, ‘had.’ I don’t know exactly when and how it happened, but…. My uncle was right. Somehow, over the last two days, talking to Astrin, getting to know him….” Rowan sighed. “I suppose I started to see him as a person, not the representation of what murdered my parents and deprived me of the chance of growing up with a father and mother who loved me. Yes…,” he preempted, “I know there are plenty of people around me who love me, but it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t the same as having a mother to tuck me into bed and kiss me when I was hurt. It wasn’t the same as having a father to play ball with me and let me ride on his shoulders. I didn’t have it—and he did. I hated him for it. But I realized today that I don’t. I don’t hate him, because I don’t know him and….”
    Rowan sighed and ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up. “Now that I’m beginning to know him, I can’t hate him anymore. It isn’t his fault. It isn’t even his father’s fault, or House Raphael’s fault. Astrin