WINDREAPER by Charlotte Boyett-Compo Page A

was loved by his people. They mourned his imprisonment. They mourned his punishment. That day will forever live in our minds and hearts as the day our champion bled for us, gave his flesh for us. You were innocent. There was not one of those gathered who did not know it."
    His eyes shifted back and forth, as if searching for a reason for why she was reminding him of that day.
    "It is a symbol, Your Grace. It had to be preserved."
    His mouth turned ugly. "A symbol of what, mam'selle? My pain?"
    "Your pain and your people's pain. It is a symbol, too, of the injustice of the Tribunal. It is a symbol of the agony a good man suffered for the love of his people. It was as much our fault that you were put to the lash as it was Kaileel Tohre's! Had you not been so loved, do you think the Tribunal would have cared?"
    "What difference does it make now? That piece of vileness should have been destroyed long ago!"
    "No, Milord." She flinched as his stormy face filled with malice.
    "I will have that gods-be-damned thing burned!"
    "They took you away from us with that whip, Milord. They punished you because we were weak. We allowed you to suffer for us. We need a visible symbol of our cowardice. The whip is that symbol."
    "So why bring the damned thing to me? Why should I need to see it?"
    "Take it and keep it, Milord. Keep it until the day you can use it on Kaileel Tohre!"
    His face, filled with hatred, turned stark white. "Who do you think you are? By what right do you come here and torment me like this?"
    "I came to offer comfort, but have caused you only greater pain." Amber-lea buried her face in her hands, tears spilling onto her fingers.
    * * *
    The pain that had eaten at him since his homecoming was now a cold, furious, dark entity intent on destroying him. Hatred, loneliness, anger, hostility, frustration, growing more violent and demanding with every passing day, forbidden desire for the woman who had once been his, the heavy consumption of liquor, had all combined to push him toward an abyss from which he likely would not escape. But in the shimmering tears of this girl, he saw salvation, and could do nothing but reach for it.
    "How did you know who I was?" He kept his voice soft, and tried to smile as she raised her head.
    "What other man carries such scars, Milord?"
    "You have not seen my scars, save for the ones on this ugly face."
    "No one would dare call you ugly, Milord." Her lips trembled into a gentle smile. "My mother was at the Toad. She heard you speak. She had been a chambermaid at Ivor Keep and, therefore, knew it was you."
    "I suppose I should be grateful it was your mother who recognized me and not one of the Tribunal guards."
    "She sent me to you."
    He sighed. "For what reason?"
    "To serve you." Her face turned beet red. "For whatever purpose."
    He stared. This girl was offering herself, without restraint, without reservations. He dared not accept. "Go home, little one. I am not the man you should be with."
    "Even if you are the one I am destined to be with? Let me be with you, Milord Conar. Let me be the one to ease your needs. With me, there will be no cause to find other women, ones who could be a true danger to you."
    For a long time he said nothing, then cupped her cheek in his hand. He let out a sigh of defeat when she turned her face into his palm, her lips kissing his scarred flesh.
    "Oh, mam'selle." With his other hand, he stroked her silken auburn tresses. "I pray to Alel you know what you're doing." He kissed the top of her head. "For I fear I have no fight left in me to argue with you."
    She gazed at him with longing. "Teach me to be your woman."
    "You may regret it, if I do. I am not an easy man, little girl."
    "So I have heard, Milord," she said just before he reached for her.

Chapter 13
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He was determined that her initiation into the realm of womanhood would be done with infinite care and slow manipulation—arts nearly lost to him over the passage of time but reawakened by the beauty lying