The Fane Queen is a continuation of River of Evil. So many things happened to Brann, Tavin and Kitiara in that book that I knew I needed another book to explain. And to help them recover from their horrific experiences.

Of course, things never go as planned and sometimes the recovery can be as painful as the initial experience.

CHAPTER ONE - THE FANE QUEEN

Excerpt

Fourteen-year-old Prince Brann van Tannen burst into the palace foyer and pounded up the marble stairs, his mop of brown curls bouncing about his shoulders. He gained the landing and spun to the next stairway, colliding with a servant girl just coming down.

Freshly pressed linens flew into the air and rained down around him, as the young woman grabbed for a handhold to check her fall. Her fingers closed on Brann's sun-browned arm and she toppled with him to the floor, coming to rest with her face pressed against his bare chest. She quickly scrambled to her feet, cheeks flaming.

"Y...Your Highness," she stammered, bowing. "My apologies! I...I didn't hear you coming. I'm so sorry."

Brann picked himself up, but took no time for niceties. He scooped up the linens and deposited them in a wrinkled heap into her arms, then bolted up the stairs.

He burst into the bedroom without knocking, startling the young brown-skinned elf who stood near a high wardrobe. "Tavin!" he cried, relief rushing through him. "You're still here! Thank the gods! I thought I would miss you."

Tavin Sylvain eyed him with question. "Miss me? What are you talking about?"

"I just heard the news!" Brann retorted. "About the Bardic Training Facility! You've been accepted! Why didn't you tell me? I had to hear it from your sister."

Tavin sighed and pushed away from him. "Figures. She can't seem to keep her mouth quiet about anything. Even when it's not her business."

Brann winced, his excitement snuffed out by Tavin's bitter tone. He knew exactly what Tavin referred to. Janna had been the one to tell Kyel about the atrocities Tavin had endured, about the abuse he had suffered at the hands of the Rendars six months earlier, but Brann was sure she had shared it with no one else. And he had kept his promise to Tavin as well. He had told no one. Still, the word had somehow managed to get out, and somehow managed to get distorted as rumors often did. Brann knew that part of that problem was because of Tavin's look  the finely chiseled features, the exquisite green eyes set in skin the color of creamed coffee. And part of the problem was his voice  clear, sweet and angelically beautiful in song. But a majority of the problem was Tavin's close friendship with Brann. He was six months younger to the day, and he and Brann had been inseparable companions since birth. It was now said, amongst royalty and commoner alike, that Prince Tavin Sylvain, son of King Kyel, was Jodau. And that Prince Brann of Odora Dava was his lover.

Yet, Brann had remained steadfastly by Tavin's side, refusing to let rumors and gossip affect their friendship. Now, he perched on the side of the wide bed and watched Tavin methodically pack his bags. "Don't you want to go?" he ventured.

Tavin shrugged. "It doesn't matter what I want, does it? Father's made the decision and that's the way it'll be. Just send the family embarrassment away." He shoved the tunic into his pack and turned to the wardrobe for another.

Brann rose and joined Tavin at the mahogany armoire. "Tav," he said gently, "that's not why your father is sending you. He knows you're not Jodau and, even if you were, it wouldn't matter to him. Look at Galen and Avenal, or Elvy and Renny. They're Jodau and your father doesn't treat them any differently than anyone else."

"They're not his son," Tavin retorted, yanking another tunic out. He brushed past Brann, started to fold the tunic, then hurled it onto the bed. "Why is he doing this to me?" he cried, whirling to face Brann. "I don't want to go back to Kartonn. I can't stand the thought of setting foot in that wretched place again. It makes me sick just thinking about it!"

"The Rendars are gone, Tavin. Grandpapa Elek saw to that, remember? Besides, it's not as if you'll be traveling through the countryside. Grandpapa's taking you to the Facility by magic. Tav," he took his friend by the arm, repeating the words he had rehearsed on the way to the palace, the words that supposedly would drive back his own panic at having Tavin so far away. "This is a wonderful opportunity for you. You have a gift, a wondrous gift of bardic healing. Don't let it go to waste."

Tavin gazed at him for a moment, then sighed. "Right." He closed the wardrobe with tight, mechanical movements, then cast his gaze about the room, as if committing it to memory.

Brann frowned, his gaze shifting to the pack, then back to Tavin. "Are...are you leaving soon then?"

"Tomorrow afternoon," Tavin mumbled.

Brann couldn't stop his sigh of relief, then he frowned. "Then why are you packing now?"

"I like to be prepared. You know that."

Brann hesitated before continuing. "Tav, have you told your father how you feel? That you don't want to go?"

"Yes, and he said the same thing you did. It's a wonderful opportunity." He grimaced, then snatched up his riding leathers. "Why are you half-naked anyway? Are you trying to put truth to the rumors?"

"I don't care what people think," Brann retorted. "And I'm half-naked because it's hotter than cook's oven outside. Much too hot to go riding. Why don't you come to the lake with Tia and me?"

Tavin shook his head. "No, you two want to be alone."

Brann snorted. "What we want and what papa will allow are two different things. He watches me like a hawk, as if I'm going to pounce on her the moment we're alone." He paused, then, with a sly smile, added, "Not that I haven't thought about it."

Tavin shook his head, a small smile touching at his lips. "You're something else, Brann. Thank you for being my friend. I mean, through all of this...unpleasantness."

Brann grimaced. "That sounded an awful lot like a goodbye."

Tavin shrugged. "I guess it was. I am leaving, after all. Look, I'm going to go riding. You go on to the lake with Kitiara. I'll see you both later."

"Tavin," Brann said, stopping him, "what if I go to Kartonn with you? I probably could. I haven't been accepted for study but --"

"No, Brann," Tavin interrupted. "Your father wouldn't allow it. You have your studies here." He crossed the room and stepped into the hallway, Brann trailing.

Two young pages stood at the end of the long hallway. They glanced up, then hurriedly hid their snickers behind their hands. Tavin flushed, stopping in mid stride. "I told you before that you shouldn't come into my room," he mumbled to Brann. "Especially undressed like you are."

For the first time in five months, anger at the allegations surged through Brann. "You there!" he snapped at the pages. "Come here!"

"Brann, don't," Tavin whispered. "Just leave it be."

"No! I'm sick of this," Brann retorted as the pages shuffled forward and bowed before him. "What was so funny just now?" Brann demanded, as Tavin sagged against the wall.

"N...nothing, Your Highness," one of the boys stammered, keeping his gaze averted.

"Strange that you should find 'nothing' so highly amusing," Brann seethed. "Would you also find it highly amusing to be shipped back to your fathers?"

The boys looked up at him in alarm. "M...M'lord, please," one of them stammered, "we...we're sorry."

"It's not me you need to be apologizing to," Brann snapped. "It's Prince Tavin."

"Brann!" Tavin cried. "Just drop it! For gods' sakes, just drop it!" He spun and bolted down the stairs.

Brann stared after him in surprise, then whirled on the pages, his rage out of control. "Consider yourselves released!" he snarled and ran after Tavin.

He caught up with the elf in the stables, where Tavin was furiously bridling his horse.

"Tavin, wait!" Brann cried. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you."

"It doesn't matter!" Tavin retorted hotly.

"It does matter," Brann said. "You're my friend, my brother. I love you."

"Careful what you say," Tavin warned, his voice tight and charged with fury. He swung astride his horse. "Who knows who might hear you!"

Brann grabbed at the bridle. "I don't care who hears me, Tavin. I know the truth about you."

"The truth?" Tavin repeated, his voice catching. He danced his stallion away from Brann. "The truth is whatever the majority believes. And the majority believes I'm Jodau. So be it! I'm Jodau!" he screamed, tears streaming down his face. "I'm Jodau! I wanted the Rendars to rape me! I asked for it! I enjoyed it! There! Did everyone hear me? Is everyone satisfied now?" He jabbed his heels into the stallion's side and thundered from the stables.

Brann raced to the stable doors. "Tavin!" he screamed. "Tavin! Come back!"