Chapter Sixteen
E ven at a distance, Jem recognized the cry as Hedrok’s. After the endless voyage across the Askorn Sea, he’d know that doomed scream until the end of his days. He bolted up in bed as the door swung open. Spent cock still exposed, Cador strode back in.
“That’s Hedrok!”
Jem said, “Yes. They must be in the entrance hall. We’ll go down right away.” He was about to throw back the sheets, but paused. “I’ll meet you in the hallway.”
“Now you’re bashful?”
“No!” He had no idea why he was arguing. “But you need to make yourself presentable.” He flung back the sheets—he wasn’t bashful!—and rolled to his feet, wincing as he crossed to his wardrobe.
“What’s wrong?”
“Why are you still here?” Jem shooed him with his hand. “I’m fine! Go!” Truthfully, his arse throbbed with each step, and he was uncomfortably aware of Cador’s seed inside him.
He hurried into the bathing room to clean before tugging on breeches and a shirt, which he tucked in before yanking on his boots.
Cador had thankfully dressed and put away his prick. His silk shirt hung loose over the black trousers, and he winced in the tall boots as they raced down the circular staircase, another cry echoing.
As a boy, Jem had loved making himself dizzy by racing his siblings up and down the castle’s stairs.
Now, he shook off the lightness in his head impatiently as they reached the bottom to find Delen, Creeda, Kensa, and a few others just inside the castle’s mighty wooden doors.
They were filthy and looked positively wild.
Hedrok writhed on his bed of blankets in the back of the small wagon, which they’d pulled inside. The dirt-crusted wheels left marks on the colored tile. They must have hauled it all the way up the hill.
Delen held out her sword, keeping two disheveled guards at bay. Had there been a scuffle? Was that blood dripping from one guard’s nose? Onto the ancient, colored tiles of the castle’s entry?
Too many people were shouting at once, and Hedrok was screaming, and Jem wanted to clap his hands over his ears and run back to bed. It wasn’t supposed to be like this! Where was his mother?
Thunder rumbled outside, and it took Jem a few pounding heartbeats to realize it was more guards. “No! Wait!”
But his cry was ignored, the guards streaming inside like floodwaters.
Creeda kicked and punched, sending a guard staggering away from the wagon.
Jem watched, his feet rooted to the fine tiles as Cador seemed to leap the entire distance to Hedrok, hauling the boy into his arms. The clang of metal blades clashing rang out over shouts and confusion.
“Stop! I said stop!” Yet no one heeded Jem’s shouts. He climbed up a few steps so he was taller, yet it made no difference as his commands were drowned out.
The Erghians were vastly outnumbered, and it was inevitable they’d be overrun even though they resisted fiercely. With Hedrok in his arms, Cador shielded him, running in the only direction open—toward the east side of the grand entrance.
He’d never make it to the corridor that eventually led to the feasting hall. Jem was in the perfect position to spot the three guards in their fine red uniforms charging toward Cador.
Jem was the one flying now, not wasting his breath with more shouting through the cacophony.
He came at the closest guard from the right side, hurling himself into the woman at a run, sending her crashing into the others, one catching Cador’s leg.
Cador stumbled, but kicked off the man, Hedrok shrieking in his arms.
The woman raised the butt of her sword to smash it into Jem’s face. He scrambled back, slipping on the smooth tile, raising his hands in defense. The woman froze, her eyes widening as she gasped, “Prince Jowan!”
Cador spun around, and Jem pushed to his feet, holding his arms out to his sides with Cador and Hedrok behind him. “I command you to stop fighting! These are honored guests!”
The guards blinked at him disbelievingly. Beyond, Delen and the others had been overwhelmed, their swords and spears confiscated. They still struggled, and Jem was relieved they were alive. And even more relieved to hear his mother’s voice boom.
“Cease this skirmish at once!”
Unlike when she’d found them in the dungeon, she descended the stairs fully dressed, her hair swept up, though in a simple series of knots he imagined she’d swiftly tied herself.
At Jem’s back, Hedrok wheezed, his breathing terribly labored. “Mother! We need the healer!”
Her gaze swung to him, and he stepped aside so she could see Hedrok. In Cador’s arms, Hedrok’s bare, ruined legs dangled. Jem’s mother sucked in a breath, emotions flitting over her face—horror giving way to determination. She nodded sharply to her retinue, then commanded the guards to stand down.
A wizened man Jem didn’t recognize in a dusty brown robe stepped forward from the open doorway. “Yes, get Tregereth. I’ve done all I can. This is far beyond what the healing waters can cure.”
Delen and the others staggered to their feet. Head high even as she listed, Delen nodded to Jem’s mother. Limping to her son, blood stained Creeda’s temple. She grimaced, blood coating her teeth ghoulishly.
She clutched the bundle of sevel twigs, which hung around her neck on a thin, fraying rope. Shuddering in revulsion, Jem had to stop himself from fleeing her approach.
She’s not Bryok. I’m safe. I’m not there. I’m home.
Yet he could see flashes of firelight from that night on the Cliffs of Glaw, stark memories invading his mind. He did stumble then, stepping aside, Cador glancing to him with brow furrowed, still carrying Hedrok.
Before his mother could notice, Jem breathed deeply, mastering his weakness and clearing his mind.
He allowed himself one rake of his nails over his scalp, craving the familiar burn in a way he didn’t even understand.
He’d felt such peace giving Cador control, trusting him again at least in that.
Now he was right back in the thick of chaos.
“Not the welcome we expected,” Delen growled.
One of the guards squawked in outrage. “If you’d have stopped for a minute while we could confirm your identity—”
“There’s no time to stop!” Delen’s shout echoed off the tile before it was drowned out by Hedrok screaming.
“Enough!” Jem’s mother issued instructions, one after the other, zip, zip, zip.
Jem was finally able to inhale deeply. He stopped listening, letting himself be carried along in the reassuring current of his mother’s guidance.
He followed as Cador carried Hedrok up the winding stairs with Creeda and the healer from Gwels.
Mother came to Jem’s side, her arm snug around his shoulders.
They reached a guest chamber where breathless servants scurried in ahead with steaming water and towels and other supplies. They stole wide-eyed peeks at Hedrok squirming in Cador’s arms, red-faced and panting.
Cador was speaking to the boy, surely words of comfort as Creeda’s fingers worked the worn twigs, prayers undoubtedly on her lips. Jem’s head buzzed, and he felt at a distance from them all, in the doorway watching.
He retreated with his mother a few steps down the moonlit corridor past tall windows where he could spot the stars. How wonderful it was to see the constellations again after the cloudy nights on Ergh.
“ Jem. ” His name sounded like it was coming from underwater, and he thought of Morvoren’s beloved merman.
Fingernails dug into his arms through the thin silk of his shirt, and he blinked at his mother. “Yes.” He tried to dispel the strange fog from his mind. Had he been thinking of the stars?
She ran her hands over him. “Where are you hurt?” She prodded his sides and stomach, and he realized there was a splash of blood on the silk, though it wasn’t his.
“I’m not.” He shook his head, more sounds returning, footsteps down the hall along with Hedrok’s cries and voices sharp with concern, just far enough that he couldn’t pick out the words. He and his mother were in a tiled alcove that in daylight shone a glorious orange and yellow.
Forehead creased, she reached to inspect his head. With a bolt of alarm that banished the last cobwebs, he batted her hand away and cleared his throat. “I’m not hurt. Is Tregereth coming for Hedrok?”
“I’ve sent a servant to fetch them, but I’m sure they heard the commotion, even from their perch in the west tower.”
Tregereth’s salves had done wonders for Jem’s cut heel, which only twinged faintly now even after all the running he’d done.
But Hedrok needed far more than salves and a bandage.
His mind drifted back to Austol’s sister Eseld, and the sensation of her shrunken legs like dry husks, the horrible timber of her agonized cries…
“Where is Hedrok’s father?”
He blinked at his mother in the silver moonlight. “His father?”
“He is Bryok’s son, is he not? Where is Bryok?”
“The bottom of the Askorn Sea.” At her narrowed gaze, he added, “I don’t mean cursed to the bottom of the sea. He’s really there. Dead. Speared straight through and tumbled off a cliff into the sea.”
She blinked. “You’re certain?”
“Yes. Bryok is dead.”
“Who killed him?” she demanded.
Jem hesitated, but his mother would have to know the truth eventually. He’d promised Delen and Cador could tell their father first, but since the chieftain hadn’t returned yet…
It was one thing not to volunteer the information, but another to lie directly to his mother. And why should he value that promise he’d made on the ship since he’d fully intended to break it?
“Delen killed him.”
His mother went very still. “Why?”
“She was protecting me and Cador.” Gods, he hated thinking of that night. But clearly it was time to confess it all. “Bryok, he…”
“He what?” she demanded. “Did he hurt you?’
“Yes,” he said simply. There was much to tell, but that certainly was the simple truth.
She relaxed her grip on his arms before smoothing her palms up over his shoulders and embracing him. “You’re safe now.”