When the slave returned an hour later, Melena was beside herself. She had struggled on and off with tears. What if the tide turned against Valerian? What if there were unknown troops waiting to reinforce Vicktor… troops that were not tired from battle? Any number of things were possible. What if somehow Valerian was captured? Vicktor would put him to death without a second thought.

  Or would he? Perhaps he would torture his brother first. With that thought she began to imagine all the ways he could hurt Valerian.

  The appearance of the slave had her heart struggling between soaring and plummeting. What had happened? What was happening?

  Then the tent flap raised in the slave’s wake and Valerian walked in. He was heavily armored, heavily soiled, and there was blood running down his left side.

  He was alive. He had come back to her! She disregarded everything and threw herself into his arms. He caught her then tried to put her aside. “I am dirty and bloody.”

  “I don’t care,” she replied.

  He had blood on his face, in his hair, and all over his armor… but the biggest concentration of it was under his left arm. She immediately went about the task of stripping his armor away, the hard leather coming away into her hands and revealing a severe gash under his arm. She gasped when she saw it and immediately turned to the nearest slave.

  “Get clean water… clean cloths. And catgut and a needle. This must be sewn.”

  “Better to get me a bath,” Valerian corrected her command. “I will wash head to toe and then let you tend me.”

  “You haven’t told me what happened,” she said as she continued to strip him.

  “We’ve won,” he said simply. “My brother is in retreat. Now all we can do is hope your brother has not been found out and can capture Vicktor in his flight.”

  “What will you do with Vicktor once you have him?”

  It was a question neither of them had broached. They both knew there were only two choices. To imprison Vicktor for the rest of his life… risking uprisings in his name for the rest of Valerian’s rule… or killing him outright and ending everything right then and there.

  But for a brother to kill a brother… it was a hard thing and Melena knew it. She could never hurt one of her siblings, no matter how far off the path they strayed. Or so she thought. Vicktor was cruel and warmongering. He put people to death in one way or another at every turn. If her brother became such a person… it would be a hard call.

  No. It wouldn’t be. What Vicktor did was unconscionable. Were it her own brother her course would be just as clear as it was for Valerian.

  “Vicktor must be made to pay for his crimes against all humanity. He holds no value for any life he has ever come across. He gives and takes lives like a child playing with and then discarding toys. I cannot have Victor as the focal point of uprisings by those who profited from his savagery… those who would want to see it reinstated and seek to reap the rewards that might come their way in the wake of reseating Vicktor. Men such as these would forever be my enemy… and I don’t want that. I want there to be healing among my people. I want to give forgiveness and nurture those who do the right thing. I do not have to like the nobles who profited by my brother’s savagery, but I do need them. However, their heirs will suffice just as well if they decide to give me too much trouble.”

  Melena knew Valerian was being severe because he had no choice if he wanted to heal his country and bring the feuding, warring sides together. He also knew he had to offer amnesty to those who were his enemy at that very moment. They might follow Vicktor because of avarice, but they would follow Valerian because they wanted peace and security… Valerian need only offer a forgiving hand.

  No matter how unpalatable it might be.

  “I hope my brother is successful,” she said softly. But then more strongly, “but for now we must stich up your wound and see you rested. You have had a rough day and you must be exhausted.”

  “I am tired,” he admitted. “But I cannot rest knowing Vicktor is still out there.”

  Valerian moved to a chair and sat down. He leaned back in it kitty-corner and raised his arm above his head as he settled in. The wince he expressed was not something he would project unless he was in a great deal of pain. Melena bit her lip as she threaded her needle -- a sharp sliver of bone crafted from the thigh bone of an unfortunate but obliging rabbit -- and approached him.

  She had done this before, stitched up a wound. But it hadn’t been quite so big or so deep. Just seeing it on him made her heart clench in her chest. She swallowed any nerves she had and began to stitch. He made not a sound but it had to hurt him. She hated causing him pain… but she hated more the brother who had put him in that position. Would there be no end to the pain Vicktor caused?

  She was just finishing up when there was a commotion at the front of the tent. Her brother entered and then, dragging him behind him, he yanked Vicktor into the tent and shoved him to his knees before Valerian.

  Valerian took a moment to absorb the realization that Vicktor was now his prisoner… that the war was over. It had been short-lived, but it had changed so much. There would not doubt be pockets of rebellion, but Jorku was now his.

  Melena couldn’t believe her eyes. She was on her knees beside Valerian, the position having been the best way to approach the tending of his wound. She sat back on her heels as her entire body began to tremble. She thought about the last time she had seen Vicktor. It had been the day Vicktor had given his brother choice pick of the slaves Valerian had brought for Vicktor. She had been that pick.

  When she thought of how that one choice had set in motion all the things that had brought them to this moment, she was overwhelmed. What if Vicktor had taken her instead? She would have been used, abused and discarded. Valerian would never have come to the choice that had brought him at odds with his brother. She had been the catalyst for that. And it had all come about because of Vicktor’s fateful decision to give his brother first pick of slaves.

  Melena watched as Valerian got to his feet. He showed no sign of pain or weakness, though she imagined he felt both. He had to be exhausted from a day spent swinging his sword. A day spent taking the lives of his own countrymen. Blood still coated his skin and was seeping afresh from his wound since she had put her needle through it. It had to hurt. All she wanted to do right then was take care of him.

  There were other things that needed taking care of first.

  Valerian walked up to his brother who fought against being on his knees in front of his younger sibling.

  “How do you dare?” Vicktor thundered. “To lay your hands on me? To aspire to my throne? What manner of brother are you? Betrayer! Our father is sick in heaven!”

  Valerian regarded his brother with a steady gaze. Two of Melena’s brother’s men kept Vicktor on his knees when he struggled to get to his feet. Grulon Ni Coro also stood behind Vicktor with his sword drawn and his gaze boring fiercely into the former emperor of Jorku’s back. Her brother hated this man with a passion. It was because of him that his home had been usurped and taken away. It was because of him that his oldest sister had been raped by a gang of soldiers. It was because of him his family had been scattered to the four winds, taken away as slaves. Melena knew he hated Vicktor because she felt the same. She was overwhelmed by the rage that filled her. Her skin burned and her eyes watered as if she had been exposed to some dangerous, toxic element. She saw Valerian’s sword lying on the table where he had once made savage love to her, expressing to her his soul and how she owned it, and all she could think about was getting ahold of that sword, pulling it from its sheath and ending her lover’s internal conflict once and for all. She slowly rose to her full height, her body quaking in her own skin as the desire to grab that weapon rode her hard.

  Valerian might have qualms about taking the life of his brother, but she did not. Neither did Grulon.

  Valerian must have seen her staring hard at his blade because he went and picked the thing up, girding it about his waist and letting it settle against his right hip. He was left-handed. Strangely she had not noticed this before… even after watching him write letters for hours on end at that table.

  Well, she had noticed it, but it had not registered. It was said left-handed men made great warriors and were men of sound mind. As a result many young boys were forced into left-handedness. She wondered if it had come naturally to Valerian or if he had been forced. It was a strange way for her mind to wander in that moment. She didn’t understand it. She returned her attention back to Vicktor as Valerian approached him.

  He was a magnificent man, she couldn’t help but think. As he stood bare-chested, covered in his own blood and staring down at his enemy and sibling, he radiated his power and self-assuredness in the path he had taken that had guided him to that moment. He was powerful in more ways than one. He governed with a strict hand, but with a tempered heart. He was capable of deep love, she knew, and was learning how to empathize with those around him.

  Yes. He was a magnificent man. Ten times the man his brother was. Did he see that? Did he feel that? She didn’t know. Though they had spoken often about plans for war and Vicktor in the abstract, Valerian had kept his emotion concerning his brother tightly under wraps. He had not let her see into his heart on this one matter.

  This very crucial matter.

  She wanted to go to him but remained rooted where she was. Everyone did the same, waiting and watching for Valerian’s next action.

  “Father?” he said softly. “I am not the one tormenting Father in his grave,” he said. “I have left that to you for far too long.”

  “Father demanded you be a loyal brother,” Vicktor snarled. “I have given you everything! Position, wealth, the chance for glory… and now you spit in my face!”

  “I was born into my position and my wealth,” Valerian said calmly. He began to pace a slow circle around his brother and Vicktor was forced to crane his head around in order to keep an eye on him. “As for glory… I earned my place as the head of this army through sweat and blood. Unlike you I put my life on the line right beside these men, thus earning their respect and the glory you think you have given me. Your problem, Vicktor, is that you are blind to your own flaws as you seek out those in others. Your rabid need to cut out any influences that might lead me to rise up against you… has led me to rise up against you.”

  Valerian crossed the few steps to Melena and reached to caress her cheek warmly. The look he gave her was breathtakingly full of love. She instantly went to fall on her knees at his feet… the spot where she belonged… the spot where she felt safest and most loved and the place where he looked over her and protected her.

  Valerian caught her by her elbow and prevented her from doing so. At first she felt a sense of rejection as he kept her from her rightful place, but then she realize he did not want her in a subservient position in front of his brother -- the one man she should be displaying her subservience to Valerian in front of, to show Vicktor how Valerian earned love and devotion and loyalty wherever he went. Valerian did not want her to do it. Again she felt a sense of rejection. Why would he not allow her to show her devotion for him in front of his brother?

  “A woman? This is all over a woman?” Vicktor spat as Valerian held her gaze. Then, to reassure her, he leaned in in front of all these people… her brother included, and kissed her. Valerian was not prone to public displays of affection and she blushed, feeling shy and unsure. He deepened the kiss, slipping his tongue into her mouth and then letting heat grow between them as their tongues tangled together. It felt so surreal to feel pleasure in such a crucial moment, but Valerian had always been about making her feel pleasure when she least expected it.

  Valerian disengaged from her mouth and she realized she was clinging to his body, their fronts connected and her leg wound like a serpent around his. He had awakened the need inside her and she bloomed open and ready for him to appreciate her beauty and fragrance whenever it struck his fancy to do so.

  “Not just any woman,” Valerian responded to his brother, his tone low and fixed. “A queen among women. An exotic, perfect creature who should be allowed to thrive in this world so that we can all experience her.” His tone went suddenly cold as he cast a baleful look at his brother. “And you sought to destroy her for nothing. For petty fear and jealousy. It was then that I realized you had gone too far. That you would extinguish life on a whim. It is not right. And it is wrong that I did not see it sooner.”

  “You do not have what it takes to rule if you do not have what it takes to end a threat against you,” Vicktor said with a spitting scoff. “You are soft. Weak. Look at you, fawning over some whore, letting her lead you by your cock! What kind of man are you? You disgust me!”

  Valerian absorbed the insults far better that Melena did. She was full of fury on his behalf, her stomach sick with repressing the emotion. She wanted to lay into Vicktor, to tell him how wrong he was. She wanted to declare from every mountain top that there was no better man on the planet than her Sir. One day, perhaps, there would be a way for her to do that… but for now she would settle for everyone in that tent. Everyone within hearing distance. Anyone who would listen.

  “You weak, simple-minded, sadistic bastard!” she hissed in sudden savagery, lunging for Vicktor. Valerian caught her arm and held her firmly about two feet away from Vicktor’s face. She wanted to drop to her knees so she would be eye to eye with him as she spit in his face, but Valerian was still keeping her on her feet. He refused to let her subjugate herself before his brother. She realized in that moment how much Valerian respected her strength. How much he respected her.

  “You are nothing compared to Valerian,” she spat at Vicktor, allowing Valerian to keep her at a distance from his brother. Had she really tried she imagined she could have made it very difficult for him to contain her, but that would be highly disrespectful of her in front of his brother and she wouldn’t do that. “What you have you were born into… what have you ever done to earn anything? Valerian was born into wealth and power as well, but he has done everything to earn his place and then some. That is why people follow him and love him and respect him… all things you have never inspired in anyone! Those who follow you do so out of fear or greed… there is no devotion! There is no loyalty.”

  “They will turn on you as well,” Vicktor ground out to his brother, ignoring her as if she hadn’t even been speaking… and yet he responded to her words. He might pretend not to notice her, but she knew she filled his sight. “Given the first opportunity they will turn their backs on you just as you have done to me!”

  “They will not, because he will never give them reason to,” she responded. “However you can never understand that, can you? You could never understand the devotion born of love because you have never known it. You have known the devotion of fear… of being a dictator who must be obeyed or else… even your brother’s devotion, which you so often spit in the face of, was born of duty and not love. You killed that love long ago, if ever it existed.”

  She knew she was presuming much. Valerian had never spoken that much about his brother. But she knew him. She knew Valerian and how his mind and body worked. She knew him just as she knew herself and her instincts told her what to say.

  “The love of a brother should go without saying… without showing. Are you a woman that you need your emotions coddled to?” Vicktor demanded of Valerian. “Do you need your hand held and your head petted and to be told soft words of love in order to make you express that which is due me by right of my birth? Your love and respect and loyalty?”

  “That’s the problem, Vicktor,” Valerian said. “You believe those things to be a divine right. You believe you have been born into it. And perhaps you were. But those things take work and nurturing, Vicktor. Not because I am a woman, as you say, in need of handling, but because it is what is right… it is what anyone deserves. You simply could never see that. You could never see that relationships need tending… even those we are born into. I have known more love from a total stranger in these past weeks than I have known from my own brother in all our lifetime.” Valerian once again pulled her close and met her gaze. “But we are not strangers any longer, are we Pet?”

  “No, Sir, we are not,” she said softly, her eyes misting over. Oh, how she loved him. It felt good to say so in front of everyone… in front of the man who should have loved Valerian from his birth, but was so incapable of that emotion. She was glad she could give Valerian the love he deserved. Love, she realized, he might never have had otherwise. She knew nothing of his mother… and very little of his father. Had they loved him? Was that what had kept him from turning into Vicktor himself? If they had both been loved by the same parents, why had the brothers veered off in such opposing directions?

  She might never understand the answer to that. However, she did understand why he was going to have such a difficult time deciding Vicktor’s fate. He had not been born with the instinct to kill with impunity his brother had developed. His ability to show mercy was one of the reasons why she loved him so.

  “I deserve the loyalty I have because I have earned it, not because it was given to me. Our father was wrong to think you should be catered to just because you were firstborn. Perhaps that was what made you what you are… a cold, unfeeling monster. You needed to be brought down. Our people need a fair and just ruler. Someone they can love and respect without fear. Someone they can express their thoughts to without worry that they will have their hearts ripped out for daring to disagree with their emperor. It is time for an enlightened rule… and that can never happen as long as you are alive,” Valerian said.

  Vicktor gnashed his teeth. “You don’t have the balls to kill me,” he snarled.

  “Perhaps not,” Valerian said. “Perhaps it is not a matter of my ability to face up to my choices as much as it is a final respect to our father. So… I will not kill you.”

  Vicktor scoffed. “I knew it.”