Chapter Four
L avender filled Jem’s nose. Hatchlings chirped in the aviary and water lapped gently at the shore, rippled by the afternoon breeze.
With the sun high in the summer sky, even with his eyes shut, the world glowed with perfect, golden light.
Luscious grass cushioned him as he dozed, tickling the soles of his bare feet. His swim-damp hair dried in the warmth.
Home.
Mmm. He wondered what the castle’s wonderful chefs were creating for dinner.
Likely succulent roasted meat of some kind with perfectly tender-crisp vegetables—oh, and fresh bread with creamy butter.
Dessert promised to offer a variety of cakes and surely berry pies still warm from the ovens.
Mother always made sure the kitchen made Jem’s favorites.
Oh, oh—and the mead would be sweet and chilled deep in the castle’s storerooms below the ground. He could almost taste it already, refreshing and heady, giving him a pleasant tingle…
Jem woke sweating on the hard-packed earth, hip and shoulder sore from curling in the same position too long. Dusty with ash and dirt, he pushed himself to sitting with a groan. He wiggled his bare toes, dreading pulling his thin-soled boots back on.
The cursed sun that he’d missed so much was lower in the sky at least. The tree had provided meager shade, but it’d been better than nothing. He peered around at the empty landscape of clumps of trees and dry grasses. The orange haze still hung on the horizon. Was that east or west?
Lost. He’d made it back to Onan—his homeland!
—only to get hopelessly lost . Clearly it had been foolhardy to sneak away from Cador and the others in the night.
He’d been filled with purpose and confidence, telling himself he had far more to fear from his traveling companions than venturing out alone.
Was Cador looking for him now? Perhaps he was even worried. Once, Jem had imagined he’d heard Cador call for him, an urgent, raspy shout. What nonsense. He’d sipped more water, afraid the heat was overtaking him.
“Doesn’t matter,” he muttered hoarsely. He’d filled his canteen earlier and allowed a mouthful now. What Cador thought or felt was no longer his concern. And hopefully Jem would make it to the Holy Place before the Ergh contingent and Cador would never know he’d gotten himself lost.
Humiliation prickled his sweaty skin. With only one road—which was being generous since it was more of a path or track—it should have been easy to find the Holy Place. Head south. The end. While crossing the sea, he’d glanced at Delen’s map of the mainland and thought he’d known it well enough.
The wind had started blustering around noon.
Hot, painfully dry gusts that made him anxious and strangely melancholy.
Worst of all, the haze had become thick in every direction.
It became like the fog that blanketed Neuvella during a particularly hard rain, but it burned his eyes, nose, and throat.
Somehow the sun still penetrated to roast him as he plodded along.
He’d thought he was going in the right direction, yet doubt crept in. Soon enough, Jem had no idea which way was up, and he’d somehow left the path completely. He took shelter under the oak tree to rest rather than get himself even more lost.
Now, the haze had retreated, though the air still seemed singed with smoke.
Though Gwels had some scrublands, he’d never known the area near the Holy Place to be this dry.
But what did he truly know of it? He’d barely left Neuvella in all his years.
Barely left the castle grounds, content to wile away his days as he pleased.
The spring summit had been the first time he’d journeyed to the Holy Place since he was a boy on a tour with his parents.
At least he was certain the sun set beyond Ebrenn. Blinking, he shielded his eyes. Once the afternoon grew long enough, he’d know which way was west. That was something. He could do this. He would do this! He would find his way.
What would Morvoren do?
His throat tightened. Oh, how simple it had all seemed when Morvoren was the one being kidnapped and fighting battles.
If ever she found herself in too big of a scrape, her merman lover invariably turned up to save the day and vice versa.
They’d rescued each other countless times and celebrated with passionate fucking in thrilling positions.
Hugging his knees, he allowed himself to think of Cador.
If Jem was in need, Cador would come. Despite everything, he knew it to be true.
It should have been wonderfully comforting, yet it left him desperately sad.
For what if he was wrong again? What if Cador would happily abandon him to starve in the wild?
Jem reminded himself that what he thought he knew to be true likely wasn’t. He coughed and sipped more water.
What would Morvoren do?
Jem barked out a laugh. “She’d never have to deal with this because her lover would never betray her in a thousand years. Because such loyal perfection is possible when you live only in books.” His voice was a terrible rasp, and he allowed another sip of water.
One of Cador’s first betrayals had been dumping those very books from Jem’s trunk before they journeyed north to Ergh.
Jem still felt a pang of grief at those lost, beloved pages abandoned in the dirt.
And now here he was having gotten himself stupidly lost, and there was no one to help.
But it was all right. He didn’t need anyone.
Once he oriented himself again, he would find his way to the Holy Place.
He’d make Morvoren proud. He’d make himself proud.
*
“Prince Jowan!”
Jem’s heart leapt as the girl’s voice rang out in the twilight.
He’d made it. Well, he’d been found, since he still didn’t see the Holy Place.
But someone knew him, which filled him with a rush of comforting relief.
Nothing had been right or as expected since they’d reached the mainland, but at least someone sounded glad to see him.
He blinked in the falling darkness, trying to make her out on her horse. Her flame-colored hair swayed in a ponytail and she bowed solemnly before grinning brightly. “Can you hop on, your grace?”
Jem wanted to—he really did—but the horse seemed even bigger than usual and Jem’s legs were made of lead. “Water?” he asked, buying a bit of time.
“Of course!” She leapt gracefully to the ground and gave Jem her bronze flask. “You must be exhausted. Let me give you a hand up.”
“Thank you. I’m afraid I got a little turned around.”
She nodded behind her. “You were coming the right direction, though from farther afield than usual. But you would have made it on your own.”
Jem was pathetically grateful to the girl for saying that. So much so he swallowed down a swell of emotion. “Thank you, er…?”
“Tamsyn, your grace. It’s an honor.” She gave him another little bow.
He nodded, and really there was no sense trying to be regal considering a moment later he was grunting as Tamsyn helped hoist him over the horse. After mounting easily herself, she blew a shrill whistle and wheeled the horse around.
“Your husband will be ever so relieved. He’s been worried sick.”
Despite his best efforts, Jem couldn’t tamp down the pulse of satisfaction.
“He was concerned?” he asked with studied casualness.
And wait, Cador had arrived at the Holy Place?
That likely meant he’d come after Jem upon realizing he was gone.
This time, Jem crushed the satisfaction before it could bloom into happiness.
In all likelihood, Cador simply wanted to stop him from reaching Neuvella before the rest of them and turning his mother irrevocably against them.
“Oh yes, your grace. Frantic. In quite a…growly fashion. He makes me think of the bears that live in Ebrenn’s mountains. Not that I’ve seen one with my own eyes, but there are drawings and stories, of course.”
He almost smiled at the comparison. “I did see one once on a visit to Ebrenn.” He’d been young, and recalled King Perran’s brittle bitterness toward Jem’s mother and grief over his daughter who’d died young. The bear had been caged, and Jem had thought it wasn’t fair to the beast.
He sipped more water, and soon they reached the stables, the thunder of other hooves approaching. In the darkness, a familiar figure leapt from his horse and barreled toward him. Jem resisted the urge to throw himself into Cador’s arms—though in the end he had no choice in the matter.
And for a single beat of his wounded heart, Jem allowed the comfort of being held aloft in a mighty embrace, his arms locked around Cador’s neck, face against his sweat-damp skin. Along with the musky tang, he swore he could smell moss on stone.
He kicked Cador’s shin, shoving against his broad shoulders. “Put me down!”
Cador tightened his arms around Jem for a moment, then did as requested. Jem ached and his knees almost gave out as his boots touched the ground, but he was determined to stay on his feet.
“Why the fuck did you run off?” Cador demanded.
Jem was very aware of their audience and lifted his chin. “We’ll discuss it later.”
“Prince Jowan, please come this way.” A servant holding a lantern ushered him toward the sprawling compound, night settled around them fully now. Jem thanked the other members of the search party, though he couldn’t see them beyond the circle of yellow light.
He was surprised to hear most of the clerics were not in residence and that Delen and the others were now traveling the long way through Gwels to go south. It was a relief that Hedrok would see a healer quite soon, though.
“You must be famished,” the servant said. “Both of you. Your husband didn’t rest until he found you.”
It shouldn’t have delighted Jem. He crushed the unfurling tendrils of joy, not glancing at Cador, who made no sound. The servant went on about cheese the clerics made themselves and bread freshly baked in anticipation of his return.
“Thank you,” Jem said. “That sounds delicious and very welcome.” He asked about Neuvella and the threat of the fires, but of course the servants only knew so much.
He found he truly was ravenous and told the servant he’d eat before bathing.
Cador shadowed him silently, and Jem didn’t want to make a scene.
They sat in the courtyard at a small table under the dark hazy sky, only the faintest breeze offering any relief from the heat.
A fountain burbled, a lamp burning. At least the sun had set.
The bread and cheese really were delicious, and Jem gulped them down with honeyed mead, nibbling from a tray of fresh fruit as well. A man approached from the shadows, and for a moment, Jem thought he was a cleric due to his garb.
He smiled broadly. “Jem, I’m so glad you’re safe.”
For a moment, Jem didn’t recognize him. The context was all wrong—the plain robes, no crown of emeralds. His mind struggled to comprehend, but…yes. It was he. “Prince Treeve?”
“It’s so good to see you again.” Treeve smiled again—a brilliant flash of teeth, full lips curving.
Jem returned his smile. “Oh! It is.” Treeve was little more than a stranger, and Jem’s mother had forever been at odds with Treeve’s father, but he was still something familiar from Jem’s old life. It was oddly reassuring to see him. Jem reached out to clasp Treeve’s arm.
In an instant, Treeve was lifted completely from the stone floor. “Fucking liar,” Cador gritted out, one hand around Treeve’s throat, the other fisted in his robe.
Gasping, Treeve clawed at Cador’s hands. “Wait. I—” Choking, he wheezed. “I can explain.”
“What are you doing ? Stop!” Sputtering, Jem yanked at Cador’s thick arm.
“You knew who I was. You had more than enough time to tell me who the fuck you were.” Nostrils flaring, Cador gritted his teeth, giving Treeve no quarter.
Jem had seen that expression before, that particular surge of fury clouding Cador’s eyes. He tugged at Cador’s wrists. “Let him explain! If you kill him, your problem with Ebrenn will only get far worse. He’s King Perran’s only remaining child. I imagine his father is quite fond of him.”
Jaw clenched so tightly it might snap, knuckles white, Cador lowered Treeve’s feet to the floor, only loosening the grip on his throat an inch.
He hissed to Jem, “What is this? You told me your mother hates his father. That they’ve been on the brink of war for years. Yet you act like you are old friends.”
“We act polite .” He pried Cador’s fingers free. Cador allowed it, dropping his hands to his sides in fists. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand,” Jem snapped.
“I thought you hated them,” Cador muttered.
“When did I say I hated Ebrenn or its people? I left the politics to my mother.” He gave Treeve a smile. “Please accept my apologies.”
Treeve glanced uneasily at Cador, who grumbled under his breath. Treeve’s voice was rather wheezy. “Of course. It’s forgotten.”
Jem frowned. Part of him didn’t even want to know, but he had to ask. “What are you doing here?” He had the sinking sensation that the journey home was about to get even more fraught.