WINDKEEPER by Charlotte Boyett-Compo

don’t believe I should have to tell you she is to be treated as such." There was frost in the tone.
    A burst of laughter came from Galen. "Conar, you wouldn’t know a lady if she were to rub herself against your…"
    Galen was distracted by the arrival of a slovenly servant bringing in two fresh decanters of port. Nodding his head in Conar’s direction, Galen indicated to the servant to fill Conar’s goblet first. The man did so, leaving one decanter beside Conar’s plate and placing the other beside Galen’s.
    Conar glanced at the sullen look on the servant’s face, meeting the man’s bold eyes. There was such hatred and contempt lurking behind the heavy-lid stare, Conar lifted one brow in surprise. The lack of respect being shown him this night was even worse than usual.
    "Is there something wrong with your wine, brother?" Galen asked, drawing Conar’s eyes from the servant.
    Conar looked at the goblet and then back to his brother. "Do I need to have this good fellow taste this for me?"
    Galen threw back his head and chuckled. When he lowered his chin, the smile left his face and he leaned his elbows on the table and looked his twin in the eye. "Don’t you trust me, Conar?"
    Conar’s wintry smile lifted the firm lips. "No."
    Galen leaned back in his chair. "What reason have I ever given you to mistrust me? No harm has ever come to you within the walls of this keep."
    "What reason, indeed?" Conar snorted. "My trip through Colsaurus the last time I left your keep was exhilarating. I assume those men who ambushed me were meant to see I didn’t reach home in one piece." He raised his goblet and took a tentative sip. Nodding his head in appreciation of the port, he looked back at Galen. "I think they were doing their best to see I stayed in Colsaurus. Underground, perhaps?"
    Shaking his head, Galen smiled. "I am not the only enemy you have, Conar. If those men were truly intent on killing you, you would be more than likely moldering in your tomb." He saluted his brother with his wineglass. "I have never once said I wished you dead, big brother."
    "But it wouldn’t bother you if I were."
    "I would pretend great sorrow should something ill befall you, Conar." Galen tented his fingers and rested his chin on the tips, gazing at Conar with a mournful expression. "I would weep and moan and gnash my teeth. I would prostrate myself at your casket and tear my hair." He grinned. "Our people would know how beloved you were to me."
    Conar nearly spat out his wine. "Our people are not fools, Galen."
    "You think I have no affection for you?"
    "You want the crown."
    "I’ve never said otherwise."
    "And it is something you will never attain, I fear." Conar blinked as the servant plopped a piece of roast beef onto his plate.
    "Don’t be so sure," Galen shot back as the servant laid a fat slab of beef on his plate with gentle care. "There are those who would rather see me on the throne than you." He looked at his servant and they exchanged a smile.
    "I have no doubts." Conar picked up his fork and knife and began to score the beef.
    "But if you were to abdicate to me, then I would be the one to marry that bitch in Oceania. I’d take that loathsome burden from you."
    Conar laughed, nearly pushing the beef off his plate as he tried to cut it. "Now that would be worth considering."
    "Would you?" Galen’s voice was husky with hope.
    Conar picked up his goblet, took a sip of the heady port, and set down the goblet. He wiped his lips on the napkin, leaned toward Galen, and smiled sweetly. "No," he said softly and then sat back in the chair to resume eating.
    "Have you met the Princess Anya yet?" Galen asked, trying to calm his raging anger at being laughed at. "I hear she’s as ugly as ever."
    Stabbing a slice of beef with his fork, Conar took a bite before answering, chewing the tender beef with care. He inclined his head to compliment his brother on the excellence of the meal. "Not yet. It can wait. Perhaps she’ll decide to join a