Chapter Eight #2
Part of Jem wanted to kick, but he let Cador examine the blood-stained, makeshift bandage. The fraying, torn edge of Jem’s robe tickled his shins. “It’s fine,” he muttered.
“I’ll change the bandage at least.” Cador waved away a buzzing fly. “Let’s get away from the water. Dybri can have her fill. May I lift you?”
Jem nodded, yet stiffened as Cador picked up the sack and then hoisted him into his arms. As Cador adjusted his hold, Jem’s cheek almost brushed his. He would only have to lean in the smallest distance and he could rub against Cador’s rough stubble…
He didn’t, of course. He held himself rigidly as Cador carried him to the shade of a dense tew tree.
They were at least getting closer to the castle now that these thicker trees were appearing.
The low-hanging, long green leaves should have been far lusher than they were, and Jem wondered if it would even flower when the time came.
Brittle, dead leaves disintegrated beneath him, crunching as he tried to get comfortable.
A buzzing fly zoomed around them, diving for Jem’s eyes and mouth when there was a whole disgusting pond not far away.
Cador unwrapped the filthy bandage and peered seriously at Jem’s heel, propping it on his meaty thigh.
He’d rolled the sleeves of his robe to his elbows, and Jem watched the flex of his forearms. Golden hair scattered his skin, and Jem wondered if he’d be freckled if he lived on the mainland instead of cloudy, freezing Ergh.
Trying not to wince, he pressed his lips tight as Cador prodded the wound. With Jem’s foot across his lap, Cador tore another strip from the ruined edge of Jem’s robe.
“Can you take off more of it? It’s too hot and this thing is far too big for me.”
Nodding, he ripped off another wider strip.
And another. His hands brushed Jem’s knees and calves as he worked, and Jem was suddenly very aware that he was naked under the robe.
They both were. And though they were also grimy and exhausted and swatting flies in the middle of a forest, heat pulsed between Jem’s legs.
It was madness! The brush of Cador’s hands and his nearness shouldn’t affect him. Gods, he’d gone all his years without lying with another person, quite satisfied with his fantasies and his own touch. He’d desired men before, but not like this.
Not this simmering fire in his blood that boiled over without warning. It was like he’d been perfectly satisfied by mead for ages, but after taking a sip of the sparkling wine from Gwels, he thirsted for it endlessly and mead left him parched.
Except you drink both mead and sparkling wine and can do without either.
He rubbed his face, not even sure what he was thinking about at this point. But clearly he was thirsty, so he reached for the sack and yanked the stopper from one of the wine skins. He sipped the water, wanting to gulp, before wordlessly offering it to Cador.
With a nod, Cador drank, gulping deeply. Sweat glistened in the hollow of his throat. “What?”
Jem tore his eyes away, clasping his hands tightly in his lap. “Nothing.”
Fingers grazing Jem’s thighs, Cador tugged at the bottom of the robe. “How’s this?”
The fraying threads tickled below his knees. “Much better. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
What was he doing thanking Cador for anything? Jem fidgeted, a rush of nervous tension gripping him. He plucked up one of the ribbons of torn fabric and tried to wrap his foot.
“It needs to be tighter. Let me do it.”
“It’s fine.”
Before Cador could argue any more, he brushed at something on his arm—then leapt up, hopping in a skittish little dance. “What the fuck was that?”
Jem could only stare at him. “What?” He gazed around, but saw only dry leaves and dirt and tree roots amid brown, pathetic grass.
“It was crawling on me! Long and thin and dozens of legs!”
“Oh, a gwiader. They don’t bite.”
Cador rubbed at his arms and legs, spinning in a circle, clearly trying to find the insect on the ground. And Jem couldn’t help himself, the burst of laughter shaking his shoulders. “The mighty hunter of Ergh fells boars but fears a tiny insect!”
“That was not tiny!” He glared—then his lips twitched, his own laughter bubbling up. “Well, it wasn’t! All those legs!” He lifted his bare feet over and over, shaking them and doing a little march on the spot. “At least if I had my boots,” he muttered.
“Surely you have more insects than worms on Ergh.”
“Yes, reasonably sized insects. Small. Unobtrusive. Not fond of crawling on people. When we go back, I’ll—”
Their laughter died. Cador dropped his head and knelt to bandage Jem’s foot. He finished the task with economical movements before striding back to the pond to tend Dybri. Jem forced down a piece of bread and a hunk of cheese before rolling a bruised sevel between his hands.
There was no sense in not eating it, yet guilt simmered as he bit into the sweet flesh that was too mealy. Sevels were best crisp and fresh—how he’d always had them. The guilt swelled, and he thought of Hedrok, hoping he was safe.
Pillowing his head on his arm, he curled on the ground. It was a far cry from the lush grasses that grew by his lake, but he was so tired he’d surely be able to rest.
Yet sleep remained stubbornly elusive, flies tickling his face, the dry earth under him like rock. He’d have been far more comfortable curled on a bed of pine needles in the forest near the cottage on Ergh. Neuvella was home, and everything was supposed to be better. Why did he feel even worse?
Because I’ve been traveling for weeks, and I’ve barely slept or eaten, and I’m trapped with the man who betrayed me. I’m thirsty and hot and in pain, and it won’t be like this when I finally get home to the castle. I’ll be safe there.
Able to breathe a little easier, Jem realized he was scratching his head. His nails had grown longer than usual, and he sank into the pleasure-pain as he raked his skull. His thoughts grew confusing as he drifted into the twilight before sleep…
Needles clawed his cheeks as he ducked under the boughs, pines growing so thick he could barely see. The chasing strangers were only a breath behind. He ignored the throbbing agony in his bare foot, limping forward, wishing more than ever that he could fly with his beloved birds.
He’d never known Ergh to be so sweltering. It must have finally been summer, though the distant sky was still that endless gray. Jem ran and ran, bursting from the forest to the cliffside, salty sea spray burning his eyes. It was dark now, and he realized with horror he was at the Cliffs of Glaw.
There was nowhere to run.
Spinning around, he faced his pursuers. It wasn’t Bryok, Creeda, Hedra and the others. He didn’t know these people. They didn’t hesitate, cornering him, his feet on the very edge of the cliff now. Torchlight flared, and he recognized the man standing impassively nearby.
Cador watched, ignoring Jem’s cries for help. He watched as one of the pursuers raised a sword. They imprisoned Jem in their vicious grasp, too many of them to fight as the sword came down on his wrist.
But it wasn’t a clean cut. Over and over, the man hacked away at the bloody, ruined flesh, finally crunching through bone and tearing Jem’s hand loose.
Orange flames flickering over the hard lines of his face, Cador loomed. He yanked the rough, horrible sack over Jem’s head and cinched the knot around his throat as Jem screamed.
“Jem!”
Gasping, his throat dirt-dry, Jem saw Cador above him.
He kicked and shoved, backing away with another hoarse scream.
He blinked in a beam of blinding sunlight as he scrabbled in the dirt, flexing his fingers and fisting his hands over and over.
He stared at his right hand, the branded tusks stark on his palm.
“It was a nightmare.” Cador’s voice was low and soothing.
Jem jerked his gaze to where Cador stood nearby, his hands out in placation, the dillywig brand dark on his pale skin. Though part of him wanted to hurl himself into Cador’s arms, he commanded, “Stay back!”
“I won’t hurt you.”
Gods, how Jem wanted to believe it. His sweaty hair clung to his tingling scalp, and he backed up against the tree trunk, the shards of glaring sunlight all around indicating it was near noon. The dry rasp in his throat transformed to a hacking cough.
Crouching, Cador held out the water, clearly trying to keep his distance. “Drink.” After a moment he added, “Please.”
Jem took a gulp, grimacing at the warm liquid.
It was better than the murky pond, at least. He tugged at the loose collar of his robe.
He realized the hem was rucked up over his knees and tugged it down despite the heat.
He scratched at his shins, stopping himself from threading his fingers through his hair since his scalp twinged from earlier.
Still crouching, Cador had backed up a few paces. He watched Jem with a furrowed brow, his blue gaze piercing. “Are you well enough to ride? We must get you home.”
Of course, he had no idea that getting Jem home meant his own imprisonment in the dungeon. A fresh wave of acid flooded Jem as his mind eagerly revisited his litany of worries. What was the chieftain up to now?
Jem had to warn his mother about Kenver. Gods, for all he knew Cador’s father had slit the queen’s throat and taken control of the castle. Not a single thing had been as Jem expected since he’d reached the mainland.
He simply nodded and pushed to his feet, hand on the rough tree trunk as he fought for balance. He took a few limping steps, but Cador had already run to get Dybri. He eyed Jem warily and asked, “May I help you up?”
Jem nodded again, letting Cador lift him astride the horse. He tucked his shortened robe under his legs, keeping his back straight as Cador mounted behind him and they returned to the trail. Cador assured him he’d paid attention and they still headed south in the right direction.
Dybri walked at a steady pace—better than making her gallop in the heat. Cador didn’t try to wrap an arm around Jem this time, his hands resting on his thick thighs bracketing Jem’s.
“What kind of birds are these?”
Jem blinked. It took him a moment to understand Cador was asking about the trilling birdsong echoing through the forest. “What does it matter?”
“Only curious.”
The silence stretched out, the afternoon windless and humid, a whine of cicadas joining the birds. “They’re edhens. Sweet little things. They nest wherever byghans are found and seem to be friendly with them for some reason. I’ve seen them perched on the byghans’ backs.”
“Ah. What do they look like?”
He couldn’t imagine why Cador cared but answered his questions as they plodded on. After a time, he realized he was breathing more easily and even leaning back against the wall of Cador’s chest.
Yet when his eyes grew heavy and his thoughts took on the unreal quality of dreams, the nightmare memory of the hood over his head and his missing, savaged hand returned. Now with the vision of Cador watching it unfold with cold eyes.
He sat straighter, pinching the backs of his hands.
He must stay awake lest he topple off the horse, and because he’d had quite enough of his nightmares.
He focused his mind on happy memories of home and his sun-dappled aviary, laughing with Santo and reading his books with a gentle breeze rustling the pages.
Warm, safe recollections that brought him peace.
A new vision intruded—Cador hopping around in a circle, flapping and frightened of a mere gwiader—and Jem allowed himself a smile.