The Source (Creasan #1)

Chapter 3

 Favian sat behind his ornate desk with his elbows perched atop it and his head in his hands. He rubbed his temples hard, pressing down on the soft tissue there in the hopes of quelling the incessant pounding. The headaches had gotten so much worse in the past month or so, and nothing the healer had prescribed had so much as put a dent in it.

He had known, of course, what awaited him. All the Lances knew of the family affliction. Turn fifty and be faced with pain of the brain that would eventually either kill you or drive you mad enough to end your own life. Perhaps it was time to turn away from medicinal herbs and request something...more affective.

Ana's constant talking wasn't helping matters. She stood on the other side of his desk repeating exactly the same thing she'd been spouting for the past twenty minutes. "You must believe me, sire," she said again. "I would never lie with another man. I would not bring such shame upon you."

"I am not ashamed," he ground out, pressing harder against his temples and squeezing his eyes shut. "I do not care what you do with other men. Or women."

Ana's hands had been clenched tightly in front of her, but now they loosened as she gave a small, humorless laugh. "Surely that can't be true."

The pounding had mixed with a high-pitched ringing and it was all he could do not to lean over his desk and throttle his wife into silence.

"You must care, at least a little."

"I care as far as it pertains to our son, which I know to be mine because he has my red hair. Otherwise, your body is yours to do with as you see fit." Her face dropped and Favian gritted his teeth. He was about two seconds from exploding. "What do you want from me, Ana? Would you rather I hang you for treason? I have granted you both life and freedom, yet that doesn't seem—"

"I am your wife, Favian!" Ana's hands fisted in her skirts. "Is it so difficult to believe I would want you to care about rumors of my infidelity? If such rumors swirled about you, I would surely—"

Favian slammed his palm against the table and the sound went off like a canon in the large room. The baubles on his desk trembled with the force of it. He rose to his feet as the ringing in his head reached a fevered pitch and looked directly into his wife's eyes. "No such rumors would ever spread about me because I have the intelligence to conduct my affairs in private! You are allowed to be a stupid woman—I did not marry you for your wits—but when your own stupidity comes back to bite you in the arse, I would appreciate it if you did not bring it to me. I have more important matters to deal with than whether or not your bed has been empty."

Ana was breathing hard, seething. Favian supposed this is what he ought to have expected from marrying someone so many years his junior. She was an immature, attention seeking child, and he did not have the time nor the patience to deal with it. He could see in her brown eyes that he had hurt her, but he couldn't seem to find it within himself to care.

The door to his study was thrown open and his brother strode in with wild eyes. He didn't bother to bow in his rush to cross the room.

Favian was immediately on alert. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"The man you've been searching for," Fendrel said. "The leader of The Source."

"Yes, yes," Favian pressed impatiently.

"You've caught her."

***

Carac was rocking back and forth with his head hanging low. "This is bad. This is so, so bad."

"Stop it," Thea hissed, eyeing the Guards whom were still watching them in the dining hall. "We're going to be fine."

Fendrel had left so quickly that Thea hadn't had a chance to come up with a believable lie. She wasn't sure how he'd figured it out so quickly; most men tended to dismiss the idea without even a second thought, and Thea almost didn't blame them. It was difficult to believe an eighteen-year-old could be the leader of a rebellion as large as The Source. She'd only gained the role through Lief.