Boyett-Compo, Charlotte - WindTales 02 by WindChance

once.” He closed his eyes, remembering. “I couldn't sit down
    for three days when my father's man got through with me. My rump looked like raw meat and felt
    worse.” He looked at Weir. “Alicia and Trace got to watch what Higgins did to me. It wasn't just the
    humiliation of having my britches pulled down and my ass whipped that hurt so much. It was their
    laughter while he was doing it. That and Alicia promising me more of the same if I so much as dared to
    disobey her again."
    “What the hell had you done to warrant such a whipping?"
    That slow, self-deprecating smile returned. “I had refused to drown the kittens she ordered me to kill.”
    The smile slid away. “I couldn't kill the kittens, but I could kill humans without a qualm. I've killed four
    people, Saur."
    “Is that what sent you to the Labyrinth? Another killing like that first one?” Weir asked, his eyes
    searching Syn-Jern's.
    “Not exactly although that was self-defense, as well. I can't prove it, but I believe my brother was the
    one who set the bastard on me. His name was Otis Playe and he was a mean son of a bitch. Something
    happened just before the killing, something I'd rather not go into, and Trace had been involved with that.
    I think he hired the man who tried to kill me."
    “But you got to him first,” Weir said.
    “Aye."
    “How did it happen?"
    Syn-Jern let out a long breath. “I was at Holy Dale. Even though I was treated like shit there, I grew to
    love that land as I'd never loved Tern Keep. I thought of it as my own since I believed I would inherit it
    one day from my maternal grandmother. It was going to be my home forever.” A dark look crossed
    Sorn's handsome face. “And it would have been if the Tribunal had not confiscated it. I should have
    known I'd never own Holy Dale."
    “I know the feeling. Go on."
    The Viragonian shook himself. “I felt strange right after supper and, looking back on it now, I think Otis
    must have put something in my wine. He was one of the stewards at the manse. At any rate, I went up to
    my room to go to bed, to sleep off the illness. There was a steaming tub of bath water sitting in the middle
    of the room. I remember thinking that odd for I hadn't asked for one, and didn't use it. Instead, I lay
    down, sick as a damned dog, my head spinning like a top, and the next thing I know, I'm in the tub,
    staring up through water at a man trying to drown me."
    “You killed him."
    “Eventually. It took awhile, but I finally managed to fight back. When I finally came to myself, the man
    was lying on the floor by the tub.” Syn-Jern frowned. “I'd strangled him."
    “Are you sure you did it?” Weir asked.
    “When Trace and his companion opened the door, my hands were still around the man's neck.” A short
    laugh of contempt came from Syn-Jern's lips.
    “With witnesses to prove it, eh?"
    “Aye,” came the bitter reply. “Convenient, huh?"
    “Did your brother testify against you?"
    “He didn't. He had his companion do it.” Syn-Jern leaned back on the rock. “He wanted to inherit the
    title and the lands. He had a very good incentive for doing so.” His eyes gleamed with bitterness. “He
    wanted me hanged for the murder, even had his witness testify I'd made threats against the man
    beforehand. What he didn't count on was my grandmother coming home in the middle of the trial."
    “That must have put a kink in his chain,” Weir chuckled.
    “It did. Grandmere took one look at me in the tribunal hall that day and started shouting at the top of her
    lungs in Viragonian, which I didn't speak. I remember thinking: here is one more woman who hates me. I
    was backing away from her, but she reached out, grabbed my arm, and pulled me to her. She was
    looking at my neck and I thought: the woman is measuring me for a gods-be-damned noose.” He shook
    his head. “I underestimated her. She insisted the Chief Tribunalist have me examined. There were bruises
    all over my neck and chest where the man