Chapter One #2
If only he would give Cador a sliver of attention or sign he cared. That Cador hadn’t destroyed every bit of affection and love and desire that had grown like fire between them…
If Jem had loved him, he didn’t now. That precious, unexpected bloom was as dead as the sevel trees that would no longer grow on Ergh.
Cador had ruined it all. He’d deceived his husband from the moment Jem had been forced to stand at the altar with him and have their palms branded.
He turned his left hand, peering down at the bird’s curving wings imprinted forever on his flesh.
Sometimes, he almost expected the brand to have vanished.
To wake up alone under his furs in his plain cottage.
To ride Massen into the forest and join Bryok on the hunt, trying to make his brother proud.
Spear a boar, feast and fuck, and do it all again the next day, and the next.
His life had been simple. He couldn’t recognize it now.
He held Hedrok’s small, clammy hand. He’d never hunt with Bryok again.
His brother had been crazed—yes, with grief for his dying son, but he’d wanted power most of all.
Cador would never forget the sight of Bryok’s body disappearing into the black from atop the Cliffs of Glaw.
Yet it was the vision of Jem’s leap that truly haunted him.
In his nightmares, he saw Bryok rushing at Jem with his sword high to sever his head. Watched Jem vanish off the cliff’s edge, hearing his own raw scream, boots somehow mired in quicksand, making him helpless to do anything but watch again and again and again.
Cador wasn’t asleep now, but he saw it all unfold in his mind. He hadn’t known such a grief existed until Jem died before his eyes. In that moment of unbearable loss, he’d known beyond doubt he truly had fallen in love.
He reminded himself Jem had survived. He’d landed in the dred nest and clawed back up the cliff’s face. He was safe and near. Not a ghost—though just as untouchable.
He cursed under his breath, garnering a glare from Creeda. His head ached, his throat parched. He’d drive himself mad. Jem wasn’t a ghost. He lived, and perhaps one day he’d welcome Cador’s touch. Oh, what Cador wouldn’t give just to feel the whisper of his breath.
The ship pitched and rode a wave. His stomach lurched, the nausea he’d ignored in the face of Hedrok’s pain returning.
He gently laid down Hedrok’s hand before pressing fingers to his own right wrist the way Jem had shown him on their first voyage.
It seemed a lifetime ago when Cador had been impatient and uninterested in his husband.
What a damn fool to have wasted a single moment.
Hedrok slept deeply now. Creeda prayed again, her lips moving as she fingered the sevel branches. Cador quietly slipped away, leaving them in what little peace remained. He returned to the ship’s bow, salt spray cool on his face.
“Brother.”
He hadn’t even noticed Delen’s approach.
He turned, heart leaping as he realized Jem stood behind her.
Jaw set, Jem kept his gaze on the creaking wood beneath them.
His feet were bare, and he wore his old Southern clothes, fawn breeches tight on his slim legs, green silk shirt rolled to his elbows.
His glossy dark curls tumbled over his forehead, and Cador itched to brush them back.
“I said we need to clear the air.” Delen glared at Cador. She wore her black hair cropped short as he did his, the mark of a hunter. Her brown skin was darker than Jem’s, her eyes a deeper hue compared to Jem’s honey gaze.
“Oh.” Cador tried to focus. “Yes.”
The ship crested a swell and dropped down the other side, and he couldn’t quite bite back his moan. More like a shameful whimper, his empty stomach heaving, saliva filling his mouth. Jem reached out before snatching back his hand and pursing his lips.
“Press on your wrist like I showed you,” he muttered.
“I’m fine.” Cador stood straighter, his back to the rail, lifting his chin and speaking to Delen. “You were saying?”
She rolled her eyes. “I was saying that you two need to stop ignoring each other. There is much to discuss.”
He wanted to ask her to wait until they were off the damn ship and he didn’t feel quite so pathetically vulnerable. With solid ground beneath his boots, surely he’d have a clearer head. He bit his tongue. He was a mighty hunter of Ergh—he must not give in to such weakness.
Delen said, “First, we must agree on what we’ll tell Tas and the queen.
And when. We must be in accord.” She held up a tight scroll.
“I’ve written a message to be sent ahead.
It says simply that we have returned with important matters to discuss and are traveling to Neuvella with haste.
Clearly it is far too big a risk to put any other details in writing. ”
Cador nodded. He hated saying it, but asked, “What of our brother?”
They hadn’t spoken of it by mutual, silent agreement. Bryok had met the end of Delen’s spear because he’d have killed Jem—and likely Cador—otherwise. She’d had no choice. Surely Tas would understand? He was wise and fair. Wasn’t he?
Cador had always thought so. He’d basked in Tas’s affection and approval since he was a boy.
He’d never questioned him—not even when Tas arranged Cador’s marriage to Jem and planned to use Jem so cruelly.
He understood Tas’s fear of the clerics getting their hooks into Ergh and changing everything.
The fear of revealing weakness to the mainland and losing their way of life.
But was it fair to plot and deceive? Was it right to help their sick children at any cost?
He refocused on Delen. If Cador didn’t know her so well, he’d think her not bothered, but he could hear the note of tension in her voice as she answered his question.
“We can’t exactly tell Tas in a letter that his son is dead with no other details. It would be too hideous.” She grimaced. “Not that it will be much better face-to-face.”
“No,” Cador agreed. He dreaded it beyond the telling.
Jem was silent, still looking at his feet.
Delen swiftly said, “It’s done and he must face it as we have. Bryok is dead, and Tas has a new heir.”
Absurdly, Cador almost asked who. He blinked at her. It truly hadn’t even flickered across his mind.
Delen frowned. “You’re the second oldest. You’ll be chieftain now.”
“But I don’t want to be chieftain!” He sounded like a ridiculous child. He could imagine Bryok berating him for moping over Jem and now this. He must regain control. Regain his dignity. He was a mighty hunter of Ergh, and if he was to be chieftain, he must accept it.
He discovered Jem watched him now. Was that sympathy? His heart leapt as Jem tightened his jaw, standing straighter and clasping his hands behind his back.
To Delen, Jem said, “We are in agreement on the contents of the message.”
She held out the scroll. “Would you like to read it before it is sealed?”
Jem took it and scanned the short missive before nodding and handing it back.
Delen said, “We should only have to camp a night before provisions from the Holy Place arrive. Jory is our best rider, and he will be quick about it. We will travel light, aside from—” her gaze flitted to the ship’s bow where Creeda hovered over Hedrok.
“Well, the cart will be slower, but we can go ahead to speak to our parents. Now, as for what precisely to tell them.”
“The truth,” Jem said sharply.
She nodded. “Of course. But will you permit us to speak to our tas before telling your mother the…details?”
Jem’s face could have been carved from stone. “By ‘details,’ do you mean Kenver’s initial plot to kidnap me and sever my hand so it could be sent to my mother to incite a war with Ebrenn?”
Delen grimaced. “Yes, as much as we truly regret it. I’m sure our tas regrets it too.”
“You can’t speak for Kenver.” Jem clenched his jaw. “He concocted the scheme to begin with.”
She nodded. “You’re right. I hope you know—”
“Don’t.” Jem held up a hand. “It’s done and cannot be undone. Regret is useless.”
In the tense silence, Cador knew the truth of those words. He’d never known such regret, and it would change nothing. He shielded his eyes from the sun, which at least was setting now.
Needing to say something , he blurted, “Is it always this blasted hot in summer?”
For a moment, he thought Jem would refuse to answer. Finally, he said, “No, actually. I was always told it was more temperate this far north. But it’s certainly better than all that gray in Ergh.”
“That’s a matter of opinion,” Cador grumbled.
Delen quickly said, “Let’s stay focused.
Prince Jowan, may we speak to our tas before confessing to the queen?
I propose that Cador and I meet with him privately to discuss Bryok.
Then the three of us will join you in explaining the truth to your parents.
We must be united in our cause. The children are more important than anything else.
Whatever our grievances may be—whatever our sins—we must stand together. ”
Jem seemed to consider this. “And we’ll tell them the whole truth?”
“I swear it,” Delen pledged solemnly.
Jem nodded.
“We’ll be on land again soon, at least,” she said. “You must be eager to return home, Prince Jowan.”
“An understatement if ever I heard one. Yes, I am very eager to return to Neuvella permanently.” Jem turned on his heel, leaving them at the bow.
Cador had no desire for small talk either, and Delen fell silent beside him. Jem rejoined Jory, picking up the dice.
Jory cast a worried look to Cador, his ginger hair wilder than ever in the sea wind and brushing his shoulders now.
Cador nodded and tried to smile. Jory was a loyal friend who was completely innocent of any plotting, and at least Jem was willing to game with him.
Even if it made Cador ridiculously jealous.
As the sun blessedly set, painting the sky an eerie pink, he looked to Creeda at the bow praying by Hedrok. The boy appeared to sleep, at least. Delen watched too, the pinch of her expression melting into tender concern.
Creeda had forgiven her for killing Bryok, apparently understanding that his hunger for power had surpassed redemption and Delen had only wielded her spear in necessity.
Before he could bite his tongue, Cador said, “Sometimes I think you love her.”
Delen jolted, narrowing her gaze at him. “What?”
He might as well say it. “Sometimes I think you’ve loved her for a long time.”
“And?” Her hands were fists, ready for a battle in a blink.
“And nothing.” He frowned in confusion at her anger.
She glanced around and hissed, “You think I killed him for my own gain?”
It was Cador’s turn to stiffen in surprise. “No!” He grasped her arm. “ Never .”
Delen exhaled loudly, the sudden fight disappearing. She nodded, looking to Creeda again. “I shouldn’t,” she murmured.
“Why?” He had to admit he didn’t understand the appeal. But Creeda and Delen had been friends since they were girls. Perhaps there was another side to her as sweet as her singing.
Delen shook off his hand. “You know why.”
“But—”
“Shall we speak of your love? How long will you shrink away and let Jem’s anger fester?”
“He deserves to be angry.”
“That may be, but the longer this separation lasts, the deeper the chasm between you. This talk of him never leaving Neuvella again—”
“How can you blame him after what we’ve done?”
Delen sighed. “I don’t blame him a bit. But as I said, we must be united in our cause. You and he must be united most of all or we don’t stand a chance.”
“We will be.”
“See to it.” She gave a curt nod and strode off, disappearing into the hold.
His gaze returned to Jem as it always did. Small hands cupped, Jem tossed the dice. No secrets there. From those first moments in the Holy Place when their impending marriage was announced, Jem had revealed all.
Although he’d often tried to conceal his emotions, they were plain as day. Now it was all hurt and fury, and Cador longed to once again see his shy smiles of delight.
Resolutely, Cador faced the endless sea. He watched the waves swell, capped with frothy white as the wind increased. He inhaled the briny air that was still far too hot to be refreshing and longed to see his breath cloud in the frigid air of home. He tried to think of any damn thing but Jem.
Oh, to hear Jem’s cries of passion and kiss his sweet lips. Bury his prick inside him and bring them both to ecstasy. To return to the cottage and those heady days of exploration and fucking. Even to just bake bread with him and tend the goats—perhaps nurse another hatchling like Derwa.
He never thought he would miss a bird.
In the wee hours, he rose from his pallet to piss off the rear of the ship.
Meraud’s second nodded to him from the helm.
Snores and the sea’s wet slaps on the hull were the only other sounds, the waves mercifully flattened.
A breeze sent welcome goosebumps over his bare arms as he wandered to the bow.
A half moon shone high above, glinting silver on the water’s surface. His heart leapt to his throat when he realized Jem was at the rail. Cador kept several feet between them but couldn’t make himself leave Jem be.
For long minutes, they stood together yet apart, watching the dark horizon. It felt like an eternity as Cador waited for him to speak. To cry, to scream, to pummel him with his fists. Anything but this terrible silence.
When he could take it no longer, he pleaded in a hoarse whisper. “If you could only understand…”
“I do.”
Holding his breath, Cador waited once more, a tendril of hope—
“But I hate you for it.”
Cador dug his blunt fingernails into the worn rail, wanting to wrench the wood loose and smash it to smithereens.
Jem was silent again, which was a relief after the ice in his voice.
He was silent so long that if Cador hadn’t watched him from the corner of his eye, he’d have thought himself alone. As he deserved.
“Strange how I can no longer see the stars,” Jem muttered.
Cador glanced around, pathetically glad when he confirmed that, yes, Jem was speaking to him. He squinted toward Onan. The shadow of the land did indeed blend into the sky where earlier the stars had carpeted the heavens.
“Perhaps a storm approaches? Or merely clouds. We can rarely see the stars on Ergh.”
“But…” Jem leaned forward, going up on his tiptoes. Cador could just make out his nose wrinkling in the remaining moonlight. “Is that…”
“What?” Then it reached Cador in the same instant, an acrid waft.
Jem reared back so suddenly he almost toppled onto his arse. Cador reached for him, Jem jerking away. But he met Cador’s gaze and spoke with a tense new tremor.
“Smoke.”