Chapter 4

"What will we do Tharsas?" Colette asked, as she hooked the last button on her dress.

"I'll talk to Vargas; he'll find some way to get us out of here. We'll go somewhere — anywhere — and be married."

Colette's shy smile was radiant. "You mean it?"

He walked over, and kissed her. The kiss was soft and relaxed, now that they had spent the built-up passion within them. "Yes, Colette, I mean it with all my heart. We'll leave this dark place, and begin a new life — together. I've considered leaving alone so many times that the choice to leave with you now, or to stay in this miserable place, is obvious."

Colette put her hand on his cheek. "You should go, before Lavina and Mother return."

Tharsas nodded, kissed her again, and then left the room — though all he wanted to do was stay forever.

He immediately sought out Vargas, who smiled and rose to greet him, "Good evening, Young Master. Can I do something for you?"

"Vargas, I'm leaving. Damn my birthright, damn this castle, and damn mother." Tharsas snarled the last word, as he always did.

The old Chancellor smiled knowingly. "I trust Colette shall be going with you?"

"How did you know?" Tharsas asked, with his eyes opened wide in surprise.

Vargas chuckled, and patted Tharsas' shoulder. "My dear boy, I've known longer than you. Your father even suspected this was a possibility. There has always been something between the two of you, though you fought against it. You share no blood, and there is no shame, but your father and I knew Peronelle would never approve, nor would the people of the Barony. He asked me to make arrangements, should such ever be necessary."

Tharsas absorbed what the other man had told him, amazed that the old man and his father had both thought he would fall in love with his stepsister. He then asked, "What arrangements?"

"Your father has an estate to the South in Varn. It is far enough away that none there would know you, and the Baron is not part of the Federation. The estate generates considerable wealth, and Peronelle knows nothing about it. I have secreted coin over the years, to provide you with the necessary funds to travel there, as I suspected would be inevitable."

Tharsas laughed, "Vargas, I understand more each day why my father could not live without you."

"You shall be sorely missed, Young Master. I will carefully make the necessary arrangements for your travel, and I shall assist you in leaving undetected when they are complete," the old man said, with a wistful smile.

"Thank you, Vargas. I must go tell Colette immediately."

"Of course, Young Master, and be prepared with what you shall take. It will take a couple of days to make the preparations, but the time will be short to execute them, once they are in place. You must hide such from your stepmother and Lavina, as well."

Tharsas impulsively hugged the old Chancellor. "Thank you again Vargas, I'll be prepared."

Vargas waved him away. "Now go, so I can begin penning letters — and before I start to weep, in anticipation of missing you, and dear Colette."

The following days were like a ride on rough seas for the couple. The time they spent in their normal daily activities seemed to drag on and on, minutes feeling like hours. Tharsas wondered why he even bothered to go study with the Master, because he could concentrate on nothing, save Colette.

By contrast, the time they spent packing up their most prized possessions, which they would take with them on their clandestine journey, flew by too quickly. There were too few free moments to round up everything they wished to take, and get it to Vargas — who packed it away, and secreted the bags in his own sparse chambers.

Vargas hid away more than Tharsas and Colette's precious things. He also hid the couple away in his chambers, when they could steal away together for brief periods. The old Chancellor offered his own bed, as a place for them to spend their built up passion, in whirlwind encounters.

On the morning prior to the gala Peronelle was hosting in the castle, Vargas informed the couple that they could leave, deep in the night. Tharsas had a perfect going away present for Peronelle and Lavina, one that brought a smile to Colette's face as well.

Peronelle ordered Vargas, and those servants who were most loyal to him — and thus Tharsas' father — to remain in the servant's wing during the gala. Tharsas and Colette were not even thoughts in her mind, as she expected Colette would still be complaining of cramps, and Tharsas had not attended any public function in the castle for several years.

The gala was the crowning jewel of the festivals, drawing the Barons of the Federation, and all others of wealth, like moths to the flame. They had begun arriving at mid-afternoon, and the party was now in full swing.

Everywhere there were gowns of silk, imported at great expense from far-flung lands. Jewelry that could have ransomed entire villages adorned the wives of merchants, and their daughters. Wines of fine vintage, from near and far, arrived with each guest, as a donation to the festivities. Musicians played, while couples danced. Food and drink flowed freely, while Peronelle and Lavina circulated, mingling with the crowd.

Peronelle stood near the entrance of the great hall speaking with one of the Federation Barons, who had only just arrived.

He asked her, "Where is Chancellor Vargas this fine evening, Peronelle?"

"I'm afraid the Chancellor is indisposed. He grows frail in his advancing years, and cannot long tolerate merriment I fear," Peronelle answered.

"Will Lord Tharsas be joining us this evening? I have not yet had the pleasure of meeting the young Lord, since the death of your husband," the Baron continued.

"I'm afraid he shuns such important functions, as he does all his duties my Lord. I doubt very much that we will see him."

Outside the doorway, Tharsas smiled at the lovely woman on his arm. He and Colette then stepped into the great hall. Peronelle barely hid her scowl of irritation upon seeing the couple. Murmurs caused the revelers to turn and look at the pair standing in the doorway.

Colette, blushing prettily under the stares of the room, was wearing a gown of crimson that accentuated her full, lush figure, but was perfectly reserved and demure. Tharsas was dressed in the highest of current style, a dark doublet, and hose — and cut a dashing figure as he held Colette's hand. His family crest, a symbol of his rank, was prominently displayed upon the doublet.

Tharsas turned and nodded to Colette, releasing her hand. She curtsied, and then walked out into the room to mingle. Tharsas walked toward his stepmother and the newly arrived Baron, smiling because he knew how much he had already irritated Peronelle. He knew she would be beside herself, before this night was over.

The Baron greeted Tharsas, "Welcome, Lord Tharsas. I was just asking after you."

"You would be Lord Caedmon, I believe?" Tharsas extended his hand to shake with the other man, as he greeted him.

Caedmon took the offered hand and said, "Indeed I am. It is good to see you this evening, and I am pleased to meet you at last. I only had the pleasure of being introduced to your father but once, before his unfortunate passing, but I see him in you."

"I thank you for the compliment, Lord Caedmon," Tharsas said releasing the other Baron's hand. "Please enjoy the party, but I fear I must now go greet my other guests. Perhaps I will have time to speak with you more later."

"I will look forward to the opportunity," He replied.

"Mother," Tharsas said, and nodded — the required acknowledgement of his stepmother. He then went to mingle with the crowd.

Tharsas was at his charming best, speaking knowledgeably about affairs of his Barony, and understanding the agreements between it, and the surrounding Baronies. He flattered the women, stunning the men and Lords with his knowledge, and wit — and generally became the focus of the attention for the entire room. He danced with women of all classes, at least as many as had been invited, which included only the highest of caste, showing he was quite adept in that skill as well.

Only one segment of the crowd was not hanging on his every word, and those were hanging upon the words and shy blushes offered by Colette. She danced with Lord and merchant alike, a vision of loveliness, with a constant flush in her cheeks — her musical laughter echoing throughout the hall.

Tharsas and Colette both stole glances at each other throughout the evening, careful not to let their eyes linger long, which would reveal the carefully masked emotion behind them. Peronelle and Lavina fumed, their ability to hide their growing anger apparently eroding as the night wore on. It amused Tharsas a great deal.

Tharsas bowed to the blonde-haired merchant's daughter with whom he was dancing when the music stopped, and turned to find he was staring directly at Lavina. He stiffened — the confidence and amusement he had felt all evening draining away from him, in the face of his half-sister.

"May I have this dance, Lord Tharsas?" Lavina asked, as the musicians started another song — sarcasm evident when she spoke the honorific.

An encounter that had begun exactly this way was why Tharsas had stopped attending the galas, and all other public functions, some years ago. When last he had attended the gala, Lavina had dragged him out onto the dance floor, and whispered about what she was going to do to him that night throughout the dance, ordering him to reveal no hint of what she was saying. That night her advances had been particularly violent, and it had poisoned him for the festivities ever since.

"I said — may I have this dance, my brother?" She asked again, when he simply stood frozen, and unable to answer.

"I believe this dance was promised to me, sister," Tharsas heard Colette say from behind him.

He turned, his fear draining away in the face of Colette's beauty. "Indeed, Colette, I have promised this dance to you," he said, taking her hand, and leading her toward the center of the floor, away from Lavina.

As they danced, Tharsas whispered, "Thank you, Colette."

"You're welcome, my love, I could see how disturbed you were," Colette whispered back, and then said aloud, "Are you enjoying the party, Lord?"

"Indeed I am. I cannot remember when I have felt such joyful diversion," Tharsas replied, and saw Lavina still standing where they had left her, anger obvious on her face.

The couple laughed, and continued to dance, enjoying the closeness, but wishing they could be even closer all the while.

As the party wound down, first Colette, and then Tharsas, begged the forgiveness of those who remained — saying they wished to adjourn for the night, before they consumed too much wine in their merriment. The remaining guests all thanked them for the wonderful party. Several of the Federation Barons approached Tharsas, and expressed their hope that he would attend a council they planned to call, soon. The implication was that they were impressed with him, and wanted to bring the matter of his inheritance to the table again.

Tharsas strode through the halls toward his room with his back straight, and his chin held high. He had not felt like the Master of this castle in many years, and that was exactly how he felt now. As he passed the hall that would take him away from the center of the castle to his humble room, he glanced down the hall toward Colette's room. He wanted to go there, but knew such was impossible at the moment.

Tharsas sighed, and continued to his room, there to prepare for their departure this evening. While he had briefly considered staying and fighting for his birthright, he knew that a relationship with Colette would never be tolerated. In choosing between the trappings of a Baron, and Colette, there was no real comparison. He would steal away with her this night, and be forever done with this land.

Tharsas sat looking out his window, wide-awake, in anticipation of the hour when they would leave. The steady stream of people departing the castle had dwindled to a trickle, and then stopped, a couple of hours before. The faint sound of the party he had been able to hear, in this room so distant from it, had likewise vanished. The time was drawing near now, and his anxiety increased.

A loud growl erupted from his stomach, startling him. He had been more active this night than he had in years, even counting his coupling with Colette, which was unfortunately mostly hurried after the first perfect time they had made love. He had eaten little during the evening, and his stomach was protesting that strongly.

The thought occurred to Tharsas that it might be many hours before they could break their fast, so he decided to go quickly acquire some food in the kitchen to take with them on their journey — and a bite or two, to stop his stomach from growling now. He had plenty of time, even if he were forced to dodge his half-sister and stepmother.

Creeping out into the halls, he found them empty. Usually one or two servants remained on duty, prepared to leap to any requests throughout the night. This night, he saw nobody sitting in the customary places. He could guess why, as the servants were often sent to the servant's wing, when his stepmother and Lavina planned to tryst with some Lord in the evening.

The lack of the servants only served to help him avoid detection, as he crept toward the kitchen. As he passed the closed door to the sitting room that lay between him and his goal, he heard the sounds of a male voice, and Peronelle's voice within.

Though he would not be here to pursue it, he was curious if this was the beginning of Peronelle attempting to undo the damage he had caused this evening — countering her years of lies. Looking up and down the hall, he quietly cast spells that would let him not only hear what was going on inside the room, but see it as well.

The Baron, with whom Tharsas had seen his stepmother coupling, was once again in the room, though they were not in rut this time. The man raised a hand to his forehead with a groan, turned to face Peronelle, and spoke.

"Per, I don't think there is any way we can turn this around. He was the epitome of charm, and noble bearing, this evening. It is simply too much of a sharp contrast, compared to what you have told the Federation all these years. They will call council, and I fear they will install him in the position that is his birthright."

Peronelle swept a cup off the table at her side with a snarl, "NO! I will not let that little useless fuck take away what is mine! You will convince them that this council is useless — that he was simply engaging in another of his mad little fantasies."

"I can try, but I fear it will be of no use. I have heard them talking, Per. They are impressed."

Peronelle snarled, "I knew I should have murdered that useless little piece of filth when I poisoned his father!"

Tharsas stared, dumbfounded. He heard the rest of the conversation, but it barely registered on his consciousness as the words, when I poisoned his father, continuously echoed through his brain.

The Baron continued to talk, and his stepmother continued to shout, but Tharsas was holding his head, shaking it violently back and forth. The words just kept echoing in his head, mocking him, and assaulting him. Laughter, that of Lavina and his stepmother, sounded in loud bursts from the back of his head. Memories of Lavina's rapes insinuated themselves as well, along with flashes of his other humiliations. Tharsas squeezed his hands tight against his temples, clenching his teeth tight, and trembling.