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eBook Category: Romance
eBook Description: When the Parsadi Empire conquered his insignificant kingdom, the prime minister's son, a healer, became a peace hostage. He was given as a slave to the Emperor's youngest daughter--who also happened to be the general of the conquering army. Sensuality: SENSUAL

eBook Publisher: New Concepts Publishing, Published: 2007, 2007
Fictionwise Release Date: December 2007

95 Reader Ratings: Great Good OK Poor

Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: Adobe Acrobat (PDF) [413 KB], eReader (PDB) [131 KB], Palm Doc (PDB) [111 KB], Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [98 KB], Microsoft Reader (LIT) [164 KB] - PocketPC 1.0+ Compatible, Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [160 KB], hiebook (KML) [278 KB], Sony Reader (LRF) [172 KB], iSilo (PDB) [91 KB], Mobipocket (PRC) [114 KB], Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [171 KB], OEBFF Format (IMP) [152 KB]
Words: 34149
Reading time: 97-136 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Adobe Acrobat (PDF) Format:  Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud DISABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED

Adon bent over the belly wound and forced back the revulsion that always swept over him when the first injuries of the day's battle arrived at the infirmary. He was Chief Physician, son of Prime Minister Naqueron, son of Adieri, the strongest magically gifted healer to ever heal in the ten kingdoms of the Utora River Valley. After fifteen years of service as a healer, he shouldn't have to yank his churning stomach under control.

He resolved to stop eating breakfast as long as the army of the Parsadi Empire kept up its siege of Eber, the only city remaining to the kingdom. King Eber was a madman, and all that kept him in power was the fear that whoever took his place would replace Naqueron, the man responsible for undoing most of the king's stupidity before people could get hurt.

"Blessed Unseen, maker of all that was and is and is to come, guide my hands," Adon whispered and nodded for his assistant to light the healing incense. Priests claimed the incense carried prayers to the Unseen. Adon only cared that it helped to prevent wound-rot. He believed the Unseen was powerful enough not to need the help of the astringent incense to hear prayers.

In the quiet as he worked over the belly wound, Adon heard the clamor of the fighting at the gates. Regular as the sundials and sand-timers. He wondered if Parsadi General Istrak ever got tired of the clash of metal and bodies colliding and the screams of wounded men.

The wounded man moaned, rising from the black depths of sleep granted by drugged wine. Adon poured sour wine infused with healing herbs over the sewn wound and slapped an herbal plaster on the spot. It would draw out what poison remained and numb the flesh.

He stepped back, washed his hands, and waited for one patient to be exchanged for the next. Other healers thought the rituals prescribed by the Healer Prophet devoured too much time, and the abundance of herbs and cleansing wasted supplies. Adon disagreed and enforced the ritual procedures when he became the leader of his mother's healer hall outside the city. The absence of wound-rot and the faster rate of healing at his healer's hall brought him to the attention of the king's advisers, much to his father's disappointment. Naqueron didn't want his only son to come anywhere near the throne. Catching the king's attention could be deadly.

"What's done is done," Adon reminded himself when the next soldier slid onto the operating table before him.

He wondered if General Istrak was sick of the campaign of conquest and retribution that Emperor Oprak of the Parsadi had begun less than a year ago. King Eber had been exceptionally insane when he cajoled the other kings of the Utora River Valley into rebellion against the Parsadi, who had been their overlords, and defenders against far larger, brutal empires, for nearly four hundred years. Oprak might have forgiven rebellion, because what could Eber and his allies do besides close off the valley to outside commerce? That would have hurt the valley more than the Parsadi anyway.

The unforgivable crime had been to send an assassin against Oprak's family and then call it justified when confronted with the deed--and the head and hands of the failed assassin.

"Adon!" Lady Taisha posed in the doorway, reaching out to brace herself against the doorframe. She caught herself at the last moment before touching the plebian plain wood.

"Go away," Adon murmured without looking up from the long, jagged leg wound.

"Adon, you are nobility. It is beneath you to wallow in blood and filth and soil your hands for the sake of commoners." She pressed her delicate hands against her chest and swayed, as if she would faint.

Adon knew from long experience that Taisha would only faint if she knew someone would catch her. She wasn't about to risk falling onto the floor littered with blood, vomit, bandages and other assorted healing detritus. As long as he didn't look at her, she would stay on her feet. She had used such tactics on him only twice before he realized it was play-acting. Adon refused to let any woman manipulate him--especially one who insisted they were to marry, when his father had never approached hers to begin negotiations. He swore he'd surrender to the Parsadi army before he would marry Taisha and give her a part of his life or any power over him.

"The same commoners who prevent the Parsadi from carrying you away to a brothel?" Adon said, half-distracted with the bits of grit he washed out of the soldier's leg.

"Do you have any idea of the state of the siege?" she nearly shrieked, and took a step closer to him. "If you don't distance yourself from the army right now, the king will slap a helmet on your head and a sword into your hand and send you into the field. That's how desperate the situation has become."

"And I will thank the Unseen for giving me an opportunity to escape you." He held out his hand for the needle strung with hair-fine gut to sew the cleansed wound.

"I can't believe you would speak to me that way. What has happened to you?"

"How many times do I have to tell you that I would rather be gelded than end up as your plaything?" Adon glanced over his shoulder after the third stitch. "Someone get her out of here. Find out who let her through the door. I want his head on a platter."

Taisha burst into tears--careful to preserve her face paint--when the young novice with bloody hands reached out to take her arm and guide her away. "Just you wait, Adon. You'll regret breaking my heart. You need me!" she threw over her shoulder as she fled the room.

"Only if I want to be painted and perfumed and useless for the rest of my life," he muttered, and gestured for the moveable lamp stand to be brought closer to illuminate his stitching. The two apprentice healers on either side of him exchanged grins. Lady Taisha was no favorite of the healers.

Adon ignored them and concentrated on his work. He ignored the clamor in the infirmary and the gossip of the stretcher-bearers and apprentices. He only noticed the passage of time when the lamps guttered and ran out of oil.

"That's the last one," a novice in blood-smeared tunic and trousers whispered when he growled for more light.

"Last lamp?" Adon hissed as he tried to stand up straight and his back gave its usual protest. He was sure his legs had locked solid, and he would never bend his knees again.

"Last patient," the girl said. She rubbed her hands on the seat of her trousers, and she and the other healers took the man away. Then Adon noticed how quiet the rest of the hall had become. A shiver of warning ran up his spine.

"Physician?" The male voice was unfamiliar, therefore not a healer. Therefore, the owner of the deep, rough voice didn't belong in the room.

"Utreth curse you," Adon muttered and peeled off his bloody robes. "No one is allowed in here while I'm working."

"The war is over," the man said. "You won't be working any longer."

"Over?" He straightened, cursed under his breath, and closed his eyes as he massaged his back. "How can it be over?" Adon opened his eyes and looked at the stranger.

A soldier--he had expected that. A big, dusty, sweaty, battle-hardened man. Adon had expected that, too. What he hadn't expected were the silver wolf's paw emblems and the dark green uniform of a Parsadi officer.

"Oh, that's how it's over." He might have laughed if he wasn't so weary. "When did you break through the wall?"

"We didn't. King Eber fell off the wall and the Prime Minister immediately declared surrender." The soldier shook his head. He looked more confused than triumphant.

"Well, Father has been advocating surrender since King Eber boasted about that idiotic assassination plot."

A ghost of a smile split the man's dusty black beard. "Father?" He nodded. "Just as I thought. You're Prime Minister Naqueron's son. Just who I was looking for."

"Why?" Adon hated that dropping sensation in his stomach.