Chapter Twelve
C ador stood uselessly as two men entered Jem’s colorful chamber high in the castle carrying a tub of steaming water. They grunted, arms straining.
“Let me help.” Cador reached for the tub, but they sidestepped, shaking their heads with wide eyes.
At least they seemed accustomed to the task, turning in unison and finding their way through another doorway. Cador followed, struck by the green-blue tiles covering the floor of this smaller room.
Stepping cautiously, finding the tiles smooth and cool under his bare feet, he watched with surprise as the servants emptied the tub into an even bigger tub. This one sat in the center of the tiled room, molded of some sort of sturdy metal that looked gilded in gold.
Oil lamps on the walls flickered beside massive arching windows. There were no coverings, and surely anyone outside would be able to see into this bathing room. Then Cador remembered they were so high above the ground the only visitors would be Jem’s birds.
“Thank you,” he said as the men carried out the empty tub. They shared a frowning glance before bowing. Was he not meant to thank servants for their service? He was making a mess of this already. He’d made a mess of everything.
In this grand castle with warm lamplight and intricate tapestries and the faint smell of sweet flowers, he felt like a boar that had stumbled into a village in a blizzard, disoriented and destructive. He’d likely feel more at home back in the dungeon.
There had been a moment when he’d thought Jem would lock him in the cell.
An icy shiver had rippled down Cador’s spine, but then Jem had reached out his hand despite the queen’s suspicious gaze.
Though the dungeon was likely what he deserved, he couldn’t deny he was damn glad to be free of it. To be in Jem’s chamber, no less.
He hadn’t thought about where they’d sleep, only that he could—and soon would—drop anywhere and be dead to the world. When the queen had said there was no marriage chamber ready, he’d been about to say that he didn’t care where he slept but realized he did. Very much.
Since escaping the Holy Place, he’d concentrated simply on reaching their destination. On keeping Jem safe. Now here they were, and why should Jem want Cador anywhere near him?
There were surely dozens of rooms. Hundreds, even. Jem had been clear they’d never share a bed again, and he’d had the chance to tell his mother Cador would be sleeping in the most distant guest chamber in the castle.
Though he ordered himself not to read anything into Jem’s choice, he smiled as he took in the chamber’s details—the tall windows with silky fabric hanging, a padded bench underneath dotted with tasseled gold pillows, rugs in different shapes over the polished stone floor, each soft and woven gold, red, and green.
A small round table and two chairs of cherry wood carved into intricate curves sat before the windows.
The gold-tiled fireplace and hearth nearer to the door was so clean it looked as though it had never seen a single smudge of ash.
There was an incredible tapestry of a seascape covering another wall.
He was likely to break anything he touched. It all looked so delicate. Of course, that’s what he’d first thought of Jem, and now he knew Jem’s strength and resilience.
What is he telling his mother?
Cador couldn’t let himself worry about it. Jem could have left him to rot in the dungeon and didn’t, and for the moment, he should simply be grateful. His gaze found the bed—not that he could have overlooked it given the massive size. It even had its own roof of fancy purple fabric.
The four posters were carved of the same cherry wood as the table in a swirling pattern, the pink sheets and pillows a silk that looked impossibly soft. He resisted running a dirty hand over the material and shut down thoughts of Jem between those sheets pleasuring himself with his candle…
He whirled back to face the door, forcing control. The fireplace loomed on the right, and to the left was a sitting area of padded chairs and tasseled footrests, the wall dominated by shelfs of books, and books, and even more books.
Guilt thundered back as he remembered how carelessly—how callously—he’d tossed Jem’s beloved books to the dirt before they left for Ergh.
To his shock, the men returned with another tub of steaming water, and soon the metal bath was full and the servants departed.
He waited for Jem, trying not to worry about what he was discussing with the queen.
Trying not to worry about Tas and Jory. Delen, Hedrok, Kensa, Creeda—so many of his people were still at large on the mainland.
White bubbles of frothy soap covered the water, a scented oil that was fresh and sweet swirling on top.
Such decadence, and in the dead of night!
He was torn between scorn— this sort of thing was why the mainlanders were so soft and useless—and the urge to sink into this bit of heaven.
After all, it would be wrong for it to go to waste after the servants’ efforts.
He supposed this luxury was commonplace for royalty. Jem had grown up here, pampered and spoiled. Cador remembered his horror at pissing outdoors and could understand it now. Though it seemed so long ago, and not at all like the Jem he knew now. His Jem was—
Not mine.
“Go on,” Jem said from the doorway.
“It’s your bath. I’ll use it after. With all these fine soaps I’ll be cleaner than I ever have been.”
Jem hesitated. “Let’s just—there’s plenty of room.” He motioned to the tub. “I don’t want to disturb the poor servants again when they should be sleeping, and the healer will be here soon to bandage my foot. And we must sleep, so let’s just get this over with. We need to bathe.”
Cador couldn’t argue with that. He yanked off the robe, which was fit to be burned. From the corner of his eye, he could see Jem very decidedly not watching him undress, arms crossed and gaze on the ceiling.
As wonderful as the cool waters of the Holy Place had felt, this steamy, soapy bath had Cador groaning in pleasure as he lowered himself into the tub. He sank down, arching his back to wet his hair in the suds.
The flared end of the tub was high enough for him to rest his head against, the metal warm. The earlier ache in his back eased even more in the delicious heat. He rolled his shoulders with satisfaction.
“Are you going to tease me?” Jem asked tightly. “Because I’m tired, and I want to get clean.”
After a moment of confusion, Cador realized his groans sounded like the kind he made when fucking. Remembering how he’d taunted Jem at the Holy Place, he flushed with guilt. “No. I swear it.”
Jem met his gaze for a moment, and Cador expected him to ask why he should believe a single vow he made now. But Jem only nodded tensely. He’d seemed so relaxed and relieved to see his mother again, and Cador hated that it was his presence that put the hunch back in Jem’s shoulders.
He bent his legs, knees poking out of the suds. “There’s plenty of room, as you said. I’ll behave.”
Slim fingers on the ruined hem of the cleric robe, Jem paused. Cador almost laughed at this bashfulness given the things they’d done. How he’d seen Jem naked dozens of times now, most recently in the baths at the Holy Place.
Yet his mind filled with images of the first time—how he’d watched Jem laid utterly bare with need, licking Cador’s seed from the cottage floor…
The laughter died in his throat, and he had to close his eyes against the wave of forlorn regret. “Go on,” he said, his voice too loud. He cleared his throat. “I won’t look.”
He listened to the rustle of fabric. He felt the ripple of water as Jem stepped one foot in with a soft slosh . Gripped the sides of the tub when a faint moan of pleasure escaped Jem as he sank fully, the warm suds surging over Cador’s nipples all the way to his armpits.
Jem’s toes brushed his, and Cador opened his eyes. Jem sat against the other end of the tub, clutching his knees to his chest, watching Cador as though he was a sarf that would bite. Only an hour or two ago, he’d been curled on Cador’s lap, safe in his arms…
As enormous as the tub was, they had to be smart about it if Jem didn’t want to even brush against him. Cador moved his feet to the edges and let his knees fall open to rest against the sides of the tub, which flared out from the bottom.
Jem’s throat bobbed. Tentatively, he stretched out his legs. If he put them in Cador’s lap, he could straighten them. Still, there was enough room for Jem to scoot low and duck his head back, plugging his nose as he submerged completely.
Wiping his face, Jem rested back against his end of the tub, bubbles clinging to his smooth chin, bent knees poking out. Cador was certain the tips of Jem’s toes were unbearably close to his bollocks. That if Jem only moved an inch, he could rub at Cador’s tender flesh…
He wouldn’t, though. This was as close as Cador could hope to get. He tamped down his lust, his foolish cock eager to be buried inside Jem’s perfect body. His prick would have to get used to disappointment.
He scoffed at himself, acting like his cock had a mind of its own. He really did need sleep. Still, his stubborn, unruly prick nagged, reminding him how easy it would be to lift Jem over his lap and—
Squeezing his eyes shut, Cador regained control. He’d promised Jem not to taunt him, and even if the bubbles hid his erection, it wasn’t allowed. He breathed the sweet fragrance of the water deeply and asked, “Is this a flower?”
After a few moments, Jem answered, “Roses.”
“Mmm.” It was familiar, though Cador was sure he’d never seen a rose.
It should have been strange to share a bath together, but as the water cooled, it was oddly peaceful to listen to the rhythm of Jem’s steady breathing.
He told himself to stay awake and appreciate it, for one day he’d be alone again on Ergh.
Alone in his cottage, with only the howling winter wind.
For now that Jem was home in such comfort, how could Cador hope to win him over?
“Feels wrong to be resting,” Cador blurted. He waved a hand at the colorful room. “To be in a place like this while my family is out there. While Hedrok suffers. I should get dressed and go find them.”
“Then they’ll arrive hours after you leave, and you’ll have missed them on the road somehow, and we’ll all keep spinning in circles.”
He grunted. Jem had a point. And he was so, so tired.
The last time he’d felt that weary, he’d caught a terrible fever one winter and had been trapped by a blizzard for a week, shivering yet burning with barely the strength to drink water.
Merely drawing the bucket from the well had exhausted him so much he’d slept for a whole day.
Yet he wasn’t ill now, and after a good night’s sleep, he should be ready to mount up.
“Besides, what would you wear? That filthy old cleric’s robe?”
He grimaced. “Those rags need to be burned.”
“No arguments here. But really, I think it’s best to stay put, at least for a few days while we figure out what to do.”
We . Cador silently reveled in the word.
Jem added, “Though I’m sorry Jory and your father aren’t here.”
“I’m not.” Had he just said that aloud? He rubbed a damp hand over his face. “What I mean is—” He should stop talking and quit while he was ahead. Not that he was.
“What?” Jem asked softly.
“I…” He shouldn’t confess such a shameful thought, yet the words spilled out under Jem’s kind gaze. “If Tas and Delen find each other before reaching the castle, she’ll have to tell him about Bryok. It would be done, and I wouldn’t have to bear it.” He shook his head. “Fucking cowardly, I know.”
“Understandable, though.”
He didn’t deserve Jem’s understanding but greedily embraced it. “Delen is just so much better at saying the right thing. She’d make a far better chieftain than I ever will. What kind of leader am I? I abandoned her and my people to chase after you.”
Jem blinked. He watched Cador in the yellow lamplight, droplets of water clinging to his thick lashes. It seemed he would say something, but then the moment passed, and he closed his eyes, leaning back against the tub once more. Cador watched him, his own eyes growing heavy.
When he woke, the water was cold and Jem was gone. Only one lamp still flickered, the others burned out. A thick towel sat folded on a stool, along with a silky nightshirt like the kind Jem preferred.
Though this one was far too big for Jem, the ends barely grazed Cador’s knees. It was all he had, though he’d have preferred greatly to go naked. But Jem wouldn’t have left it for him if he didn’t want him to wear it.
Creeping into the bedchamber, Cador held his breath. Jem’s curls still appeared damp on his pillow, his lips parted. The satin sheets tucked around him were the palest pink. The bed was huge under its ridiculous canopy, Jem small and defenseless in sleep.
This is where he belongs.
Though he was clean and wearing a fancy Southern nightshirt, Cador felt again like an intruder. An impostor with no place in Jem’s bed, even if it was so big they could easily sleep without coming near each other. Even if there was another pillow beside Jem’s, surely it wasn’t an invitation.
The rug was so thick Cador didn’t need a pillow. He stretched out on his back and ordered himself to sleep. Yet his mind galloped. How far away were Tas and Jory? How did Hedrok fare? Could he be saved? What would Tas think of…everything?
Jem murmured in his sleep, the sheets rustling. Cador couldn’t see him, but imagined Jem rolling over, pillowing his head on his hands. If they shared the bed, he’d draw Jem against his side and feel the tickle of his breath across his chest.
Just be glad you’re not in the fucking dungeon.
Morning would come not soon enough and all too quickly.