Chapter Thirteen #3
What was the harm in taking a breath as Mother said? There was so much to think about, and… And he didn’t want to think. He was so tired. He didn’t want to remember the kidnapping and talk about the plans for his dismemberment and again feel the pain of Cador’s betrayal.
Mother kissed him tenderly. “Leave it to me, my sweet boy.”
Stepping forward, Santo smiled brightly. “All right, we’ll see you all soon enough at the feast. Let’s go to the aviary!”
Pasco slapped Jem on the back. “Go on. There’s a little surprise waiting for you. You’ll thank me later. Profusely.”
Before Jem could hope to guess what Pasco was talking about—though it was surely some prank—Santo took his hand and tugged him along.
He reveled in the sun on his face as he and Santo practically skipped down the curving path from the castle.
The healer had applied salve to the cut on his heel and bandaged it tightly, and he was able to ignore any lingering ache.
He realized belatedly that Cador wouldn’t know his way from Jem’s chamber once he had some clothing, but surely he would ask for help.
He snorted in his mind. Or, Cador would roam the corridors, pretending he knew the way and stubbornly refusing to show any uncertainty. Or he’d stay holed up in Jem’s chamber all alone—which shouldn’t make Jem feel guilty. It was far better than the dungeon.
Once he and Santo reached the ground, it wasn’t long before they disappeared from view beneath the arching branches and sun-dappled leaves of the lush forest. It was so different from Ergh’s dense, forbidding evergreens, airier and livelier, birds singing in a chorus with cicadas and frogs, leaves rustling in the warm breeze.
He inhaled the sweet, humid air gratefully.
Santo glanced around and squeezed Jem’s fingers. “All right. Tell me.”
The momentary peace disintegrated into dust. “There’s so much. And some of it I cannot tell you. Not yet.”
“Hmm. To do with why you’ve suddenly returned?”
“Yes.”
“All right. But you will tell me about that husband of yours. Has he hurt you?”
Yes. So much. Yet he felt strangely protective of Cador. He didn’t want Santo to think badly of him. “It’s…not so simple.”
Santo jerked to a stop, twigs snapping under their ankle boots. “He has! I knew it. What did he do?” Their eyes roamed over Jem as they inspected him, hands seeking injuries. “Does he beat you? Tell me!”
“No, no. Nothing like that, I swear. It’s not what you’re thinking.”
“I’ll find out if you’re not being truthful.” Santo narrowed their gaze. “I’ll have him killed and make it look like an accident. Well, Arthek will arrange it.”
Jem had to laugh. “I have no doubt.” Though he had only known stoic, stalwart Arthek to be calm and measured, there was no end to what he’d do for Santo. “But truly—he hasn’t beat me or done anything of the sort.”
“And in bed?” they asked sternly. “Does he always sleep on the floor? Have you lain with him?”
Squirming with discomfort, he nodded, focusing on the blue petals of orchids blooming in the shafts of sunlight.
“Which?”
“The second one. Truly, we don’t need to discuss this!”
“Is he too rough with you?”
Jem’s face flamed as memories whirled through his mind of begging to be taken hard. “No,” he whispered.
“Ah. Just rough enough?”
Tugging Santo’s hand, he walked on silently.
“It’s good between you? In bed at least?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Really?” They glared. “Tell me truthfully. You know I’ll persist.”
Jem had to laugh with affection. “That much I do know. Truly, we are…very well matched in that regard.” Were well matched in that regard, he reminded himself swiftly.
Santo’s face lit up. “He’s good at fucking? I bet he is. How big is his cock? Proportionately matching to his bulk? Did you remember what I said about using your mouth? I have a few tricks that Arthy love s.”
Jem groaned. “I beg you to stop talking. All you need to know is that I’m far from the virgin I was when leaving Onan.”
Santo clapped in delight. “That is welcome news at least. I’m so glad you’re back. I really didn’t stop to think before going into your chamber. So strange to find a burly man in there—though I’m saddened he wasn’t in your bed. Especially if you’ve lain with him before. Why—”
“May we see the birds now?” Jem walked faster. Was he lying to Santo? What he’d said was true, but it had been an age now since he’d allowed Cador to touch him at all.
That wasn’t quite true, was it? He thought of their hands clasped in that black tunnel fleeing the Holy Place. Bodies pressed close while riding south. Cradled on Cador’s lap in the dungeon after his nightmare. Would it be so bad to give in and let Cador bed him? His body needed release…
No! Stand fast.
Resolutely, he looked down at the branded hand he would have lost. No, he wasn’t ready to relent. He couldn’t.
“Is he disappointing? Men often are.”
Jem had to chuckle wryly. “He has disappointed me, yes.” It was far too mild a word, but it would do.
“How? Has he been unfaithful?”
“I don’t think so.” He remembered his jealousy over Jory, who would return at any time.
Perhaps he should tell Cador to fuck his friend again and find a lover of his own as he’d said he would.
He could ask Santo now for suggestions—surely there were some suitable men at the castle or the nearby village.
Yet Jem didn’t ask. He pushed aside all thoughts as he spotted the aviary, rushing forward to see the dillywigs.
The place was just as he’d left it, a large rectangular wood and metal cage nestled in the shade of wide tew trees in the grass at the lakeside—though the water was much lower than he remembered, reeds lining the marshy shore.
Tears pricked his eyes to hear the familiar creak of the aviary door as he opened it and dropped to his knees by the bandaged dillywig.
Did Derwa survive on Ergh? Had she returned to the cottage to find it abandoned? Surely not, yet irrational guilt seized him. A pessimistic voice again said she’d probably been eaten by a hawk or met some other doom in that shadowy forest, but he silenced it. He wanted to choose hope.
He would choose hope.
Santo mercifully changed the topic and regaled Jem with castle gossip. He didn’t mention the Ergh chieftain, and Jem probably should ask. But it was all so blissfully normal to be back in his aviary as his beloved Santo talked and talked.
Only for today, he could let himself have this. The injured dillywig cried, and he fed her, deciding to name her Doryty, who was Derwa’s sister in the books.
Arthek approached with his usual measured steps.
Tall and lean, his white shirt was spotless, the sleeves roomy and closing around his wrists.
He wore his brown hair neatly parted and short, and his wheat-colored skin was sun-kissed.
He greeted Jem with a nod and partial bow before dropping a fond peck to the crown of Santo’s head, his narrow eyes crinkling as he smiled.
His trousers hugged slim thighs, knee-high boots gleaming.
They left Doryty to rest, going to sit on the grass in the sun-dappled shade. Jem thanked Arthek for rescuing the dillywig in his stead, and Arthek asked a few questions on caring for them.
“The beast is excellent at fucking!” Santo blurted. “As we suspected.” They exhaled as though they’d been holding their breath for minutes.
Jem sputtered, and Arthek merely nodded and said, “I’m glad.”
After tugging off their low boots to spread their toes in the grass, Santo waved a dismissive hand at Jem. “You know I tell him everything.”
Jem sighed. This was precisely why he couldn’t confide in Santo about the kidnapping plan or the sevels and the children or the possible war.
“And there’s something quite serious afoot, but Jem can’t tell us yet.” Santo curled on their side, head pillowed on Arthek’s thigh. Arthek began braiding Santo’s hair.
“It’s not that I don’t trust you both!” He did, very much. But the best course of action was to hold his tongue for the time being.
“We know.” Santo smiled. “But you can tell us all about Ergh, can’t you?”
Oh. He supposed he could. “It’s freezing. It snowed .”
Santo gaped. “Actual snow? Like on the tops of the mountains in Ebrenn?”
“Yep. I touched it. My breath clouded the air it was so cold.”
“Hmm.” Arthek tilted his head. “I can’t imagine.”
Sitting by the lake with a warm honeysuckle breeze ruffling his hair, Jem could almost believe it had all been a dream.
That he was telling Santo and Arthek a tale from one of Morvoren’s adventures.
“It was nice and warm by the fire, at least. Life is much simpler there. No castles. Nothing even close.”
“And Cador hunts boar?” Arthek asked. “With a spear?”
“Yes.” It was silly, but Jem puffed up with pride. “I actually speared one myself.”
Santo and Arthek jolted and asked in perfect unison, “Really?”
“I’m sure I only got lucky, but yes. It would have gored Cador, so I had no choice.”
Bolting up to sitting, Santo held up their palms. One was branded with a paintbrush, its answering brand on Arthek’s hand a coiled braid representing Santo’s hair. They clapped delightedly. “You saved him? Tell us everything!”
Jem most definitely didn’t tell them about stripping naked in the mud afterward, still sprayed with warm boar blood as Cador took him roughly. He banished those memories, tamping down the tingle in his traitorous body.
“I’m glad to know I can do it, even if I’m not eager to repeat the experience. I can’t imagine being out in those woods in the dead of winter. Of course they all grew up that way. It’s cloudy and gray all the time. I missed the sun so much. Though I didn’t expect a drought.”
Santo grimaced. “The gods love toying with us. Did you hear there were fires in Ebrenn and even to the north in Neuvella? They say some in Gwels too.”
“I saw the orange light from Ebrenn myself when we returned. Tasted the ash and smoke on the wind.”