Chapter Thirteen
T he purple canopy almost shimmered in the sunlight. Jem blinked up at the fine silk atop his bed as he had countless other mornings. He typically woke long before the sun was this high in the sky, heating his room.
He’d kicked off the sheets, and now he starfished on the soft mattress, stretching his aching limbs. He could almost believe he’d overexerted himself swimming, and this was just another easy, lazy day at the castle.
Almost, but not quite with his husband snoring softly on the rug to Jem’s left.
Still, it was the first time in too long that he’d actually slept without slipping into nightmares of rough hands and suffocating with a sack over his head, his hand hacked away in a rush of endless blood. Stretched out on his familiar, wonderful bed, it could almost seem like a ghastly dream.
Almost.
He’d longed to wake in his own bed again too many times to count, but the relaxation quickly dissipated as his mind helpfully cataloged the many items he had to worry about.
In great detail. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been scratching his scalp before he dug in too deeply, wincing.
He fisted his hands, then rolled to the edge of the bed and tucked them under his cheek.
He peeked down at Cador on the cream and purple swirling-patterned rug, sleeping on his back with one arm over his head and legs parted. Jem was surprised Cador had deigned to wear the nightshirt one of the servants had fetched—not that it did much to hide his body.
Especially not when it was rucked up to one hip, the shadow of coarse hair and his cock stark through the thin white silk. His heavy bollocks peeked out below the crooked hem.
What would happen if Jem knelt between his legs and bent his head to lick and suck that meaty flesh?
His mouth practically watered at the thought, his morning erection surging.
How wonderful it would be to slake his desire and find release.
To not have to think and only feel pleasure.
To rut like animals with no place for the litany of worries circling his mind.
A rapid-fire knock was the only warning before Santo thrust open the chamber door and burst inside.
They were wearing skirts today, and the delicate layers swished around their shins, gauzy in the brilliant sunlight streaming in.
Jem shoved himself up to sitting, realizing he’d clearly forgotten to bolt the door.
Santo’s breathless smile froze, then vanished as they looked between Jem on the bed and Cador now sitting bolt upright on the floor, his right hand grasping the air as if seeking a weapon.
Crestfallen, Santo dropped their gaze. “Forgive me. Too eager to see my baby brother. I forgot myself.” Their long dark curls were up in a simple ponytail and bronze bracelets shone on their brown skin, clinking as they clasped their hands.
Cador blinked around the room in apparent confusion. He pushed to his feet, fiddling with the neck of the pale nightshirt before crossing his arms. Jem couldn’t recall ever seeing him look so unsure.
Santo flashed Jem a smile. “My Arthek discovered a dillywig with a broken wing last week. She’s recovering safely in the aviary. Shall we stroll down to check on her after your breakfast? Ah, here it is.”
As Jem beamed at the thought of visiting the aviary—such an enticingly normal activity—two servants entered with trays of steaming tea, fresh juices, grilled meat, warm bread, and all Jem’s favorite pastries.
They brought the trays to Jem’s little breakfast table by the window, bowing to him as they passed.
Cador shifted from foot to foot, arms still crossed.
“I’ll come back to fetch you at the hour,” Santo said. “This time, I’ll wait for permission to enter.” They turned their smile to Cador. “I apologize again.”
“It’s fine,” he said gruffly.
“Your marital chamber will be ready soon. I’ve raided the guest rooms and given the decorating instructions.”
“Oh! Thank you,” Jem said. “Already?”
“I needed something to occupy me while you slept the morning away. It’ll be a bit of a hodgepodge, and of course you can change everything once you settle in.
I corralled the chamber next door since I know you love the sunshine.
I’m surprised you stayed abed as long as you did, but obviously you were exhausted.
” Their face pinched. “Oh, Jem. How I missed you.”
Jem launched off the bed, past Cador and into Santo’s familiar embrace. They smelled faintly of the spicy cinnamon perfume their husband loved. “You’ve no idea.”
Santo squeezed him, tucking Jem’s head against their shoulder. They ran a hand over Jem’s unruly curls, and Jem jerked back guiltily, his scalp sensitive. Santo’s sculpted brows met, but they forced a smile and a light tone.
“Cador, our mother is planning a welcome feast tonight. It’s a shame your father ran off to find you. We’ll just have to have another feast when he returns!”
Jem blinked in surprise. There were so many vital issues to discuss—the disease, the sevels, the wildfires, the clerics, mad King Perran—where to begin?
It surely didn’t seem the time for a feast. He’d already slept ridiculously late.
Not that he didn’t appreciate the welcome rest, but… Well, half the day was gone.
Cador glanced at Jem, then nodded to Santo, who exited with the servants after kissing Jem’s cheek. “Decorating and feasting,” Cador muttered.
Jem’s spine stiffened despite his own reservations. “It’s only natural to welcome us.”
“So frivolous.” He pushed up the thin sleeves of his nightshirt. “I need real clothes.”
Jem’s immediate urge was to again take offense, but he fought it, remembering how out of sorts he’d felt when he first arrived on Ergh.
“I’ll make sure they bring you a wide selection.
” He sat at the table, inhaling the salty aroma of sizzling meat.
He was suddenly starving. “Come and eat unless you’re truly that offended by the idea of feasting.
” He speared a sausage and groaned at the fatty deliciousness.
“We have more important things to worry about than food.”
Jem’s spike of irritation gave way to laughter as Cador’s stomach growled so loudly it could likely be heard throughout the castle. “Are you truly going to stand there like a stubborn oaf watching me eat?”
Face flushing pink, Cador recrossed his arms. “I don’t need to eat.”
Through a mouthful of warm, buttered bread, Jem said, “Right, fierce hunters of Ergh are too tough for mere hunger. More for me!” If Cador was going to be ridiculous, Jem would eat every last bite even if it made him ill. Which he realized was also ridiculous.
Pretending he wasn’t watching Cador from the corner of his eye, he dipped his sausage in honey, moaning at the sweet, salty flavor.
He licked a sticky drop from the corner of his mouth.
It had been months since he’d eaten such rich food, and he forced himself to take a breath and sip the hot, sweet tea.
Cador had rounded the bed toward the bathroom, but still lingered in the door.
Sighing, Jem turned to him, but any words died in his throat. The sunlight streaming in through the bathroom’s tall windows behind Cador outlined his muscular body in the thin nightshirt, making the white fabric all but invisible.
He spun back and shoved a roasted potato in his mouth. Between the rich flavors and the burst of lust, sitting on a plush chair with blue skies through the wide expanse of windows, his body hummed with too much pleasure.
When Cador returned from the bathroom and still didn’t join him at the table, Jem sighed again. “If you don’t help me eat this, I fear I’ll devour it all.” Cador really did need to eat, and Jem was starting to feel uncomfortably full.
Cador pulled out the other chair and sat on it hesitantly as though he thought he might break the curved, gleaming wood or burst the pale green cushioned seat. And his bulk was rather incongruous.
How strange it was for Jem to finally wake in his chamber again and sit at his familiar table with its view of distant verdant hills across the valley, yet to have Cador there.
His gaze returned to what he could see of his bookshelf beyond the bed’s canopy.
There were hundreds of books there, though he’d searched last night and his favorites Cador had dumped on the road had not been miraculously returned.
He could replace them with new copies, but he still mourned those particular worn and well-read pages.
Reaching for a sausage, Cador stopped and picked up a fork.
He still seemed grudging as he took a bite, but his eyes practically rolled up as he swallowed.
Any stubborn hesitation vanished, and he gnawed off a bite of warm bread, licking the hot butter from his fingers.
Jem’s inappropriate arousal throbbed between his legs.
It was all he could do not to climb over the table onto Cador’s lap.
He ate a flaky, fruity pastry instead. It had been so long since his body had found release. It made sense that the rich food was overwhelming him. Confusing him. He’d have to find some time alone to pleasure himself so he didn’t do anything reckless.
Besides, there were too many important matters to face. He had to tell his mother everything. And with that thought, his breakfast threatened to curdle in his stomach. He poured a glass of cool water and sipped.
“What?” Cador asked, swallowing a bite. “Are you really making yourself sick?”
An odd pulse of guilt made Jem’s head tingle. He hadn’t scratched very hard that morning. Now that he was home, of course he would stop the strange habit. He just had to tell his mother everything, and she’d take control. He wouldn’t have to worry anymore.
“I confess it is strange to be talking of feasting and decorating. We must tell my mother what Treeve said. And of course tell her of the sevels and the disease. I shouldn’t be wasting time going to the aviary with Santo.”