Chapter Nineteen
W ith a roar, Cador ordered Jem to run, barreling into the oncoming royal guards. Heart in his throat, Jem stumbled back, tripping over one of the legs of his ruined breeches that he couldn’t remove without taking off his boots. How had neither of them noticed the guards’ approach?
Because they’d been blind to everything but each other and the promise of their lips meeting, of the kisses Jem craved like water for his dry throat.
Now, Cador toppled three guards but it was no use.
More streamed through the leafy branches, trampling the delicate blossoms that grew in the shadows of the forest floor.
What was happening? Jem had been blind in so many ways. Now had Pasco turned on them? Though why he was taking Cador prisoner was a mystery. Had he truly been concerned that Jem was hurt by his husband? Jem shouted at the guards to release Cador, who kicked and spit and snarled.
“Go!” Cador shouted at him, but even if Jem thought he could outrun the guards, he wasn’t leaving.
“Unhand him!” Jem commanded, his voice hoarse.
They ignored him, and his blood boiled.
After clambering up to a low branch of a tew tree, he shouted again. “I said unhand him !”
This garnered the attention of the half-dozen guards. They surrounded Cador on the leafy ground, his hands bound with rope behind his back, two men holding down his thrashing feet, a leather gag in his mouth. They looked up at Jem where he stood balanced on the thick branch.
Where he belatedly realized the shirt he wore like a skirt gaped at his hip.
He clutched it shut, their eyes on him like ants over his skin.
He was supposed to be their prince, and what a spectacle he must look.
He expected them to burst into gales of laughter, but apparently they were too well trained.
“Prince Jowan, we have our orders.” The woman in charge bowed to him swiftly, her tall hat under her arm, leaves and twigs clinging to her red uniform from the scuffle. A light rain that was more of a mist filled the air.
“I don’t care what my brother told you! I’m well, and this is my husband. Release him!”
She shared a glance with another guard before saying, “Your brother, sir?”
“Prince Pasco. I don’t know what he said, but I’m ordering you to release my husband.”
“We follow the orders of your mother the queen, Prince Jowan. We haven’t seen your brother.”
Dread sank its claws into Jem. “My mother? But why?”
“I don’t know, sir. We do not question the queen’s commands. She ordered us to bring your husband back to the castle.”
“As a prisoner? This is preposterous! I won’t allow it!”
With a flick of her head, the woman apparently gave the order to take Cador away, and he shouted around his gag as they dragged him out of sight. Pasco appeared holding dark breeches for him, and the remaining guards departed.
Jem tugged off his boots and redressed eagerly. “Why did Mother have Cador seized? What the fuck’s happened?”
“Never heard such language from you, brother. Damned if I know.”
“You’re saying you had nothing to do with this? It isn’t because Cador hurt me?”
Pasco’s gaze narrowed. “You insisted he didn’t. Has he hurt you? Tell me the truth.”
“No! I meant that you’d thought he had. But he didn’t.”
“Jem, he’s not here. He’s a barbarian, and you never should have been traded off to him. I did my best to dissuade Mother, but her mind was set.”
Jem examined his brother’s serious, pinched expression. Pasco seemed sincere. “You seemed amused by my predicament at the time. Nothing more.”
He held up his hands. “I tried to make light of it, yes. The deal had been made—there was no sense in worrying you even more. I told you on your wedding day I thought you and Prince Treeve of Ebrenn would be far better matched. Mother wouldn’t hear of it.”
Jem did faintly recall it. “Oh. Yes. She hates the West.”
“That old son of a bitch on the throne won’t live forever. It was shortsighted.” Pasco sighed with a shrug. “But Mother knows far more than either of us about ruling.”
“Well, at least Treeve is trying to stop his father from attacking us.”
Pasco stood straighter. “What? How do you know that?”
“I met him at the Holy Place.”
“Treeve?” His voice rose. “When?”
“Like I just said, at the Holy Place. He helped Cador and me escape his father.”
For a moment, Pasco seemed truly flummoxed. Jem marched in the direction of the trail back to the castle, but Pasco reached for his arm.
“Wait. Tell me truly—has that stone-headed beast hurt you?”
Jem had to answer truthfully. “Yes.” He quickly added, “Though not in the way you think. He’s never raised a hand to me. It was ages before we actually…” He motioned vaguely with his hand, cringing to discuss this with Pasco of all people. “And it was good. Very good.”
Pasco’s brow furrowed. “I admit, he does look at you as if… Well, similar to how you once regarded your precious books. But I saw blood. Vigorous bed sport—even in the woods—is one thing, but—”
“It was a scratch I already had. I’m telling you, it wasn’t Cador.”
“All right. Then how did he hurt you?”
“I’ll explain it all, but I must go to him first.” Jem took off at a run.
“Hold on!” Pasco grumbled.
Jem knew the valley’s nooks and crannies far more intimately, and he left his brother behind, not willing to wait and not needing to stick to the path to find his way to the dungeon below the castle.
He was out of breath when he skidded to a stop before the young male guard he recognized, the ground soft with steady rain now.
The guard shot to his feet from where he crouched by the dungeon entrance to stay out of the rain, protesting only slightly when Jem shoved past him into the dank tunnel.
Grabbing a rusty lamp from a hook on the wall, Jem rushed to the cells. Voices rose behind him.
Yet Cador wasn’t there. The lantern cast long shadows over the miserable stone walls and iron bars as he hurried along the row. As he neared the end, a terrible cry echoed, familiar from Jem and Cador’s imprisonment.
“Prince Jowan, please!” The young guard was at his heels, others coming as well. “You’re not supposed to be here.”
Jem spun. “Why not?” A horrible thought gripped him. “Who is that prisoner?” Oh Gods, he should have found out. What if…
Yet when he thrust the lantern between the bars of the final cell, he didn’t recognize the crumpled man in the corner.
It wasn’t Kenver. For an instant, he’d been sure he was about to discover a vital piece of the puzzle, and disappointment settled through him, the heady rush of his dash from the forest dissipating.
He still had to find Cador. The prisoner wailed, holding up a trembling hand to the invasion of light.
“Who is he?” Jem demanded.
The guard said, “I don’t know his name. He’s from a village near the coast. Won’t stop drinking too much ale and beating his wife. The magistrate has decreed he stay here until he regains his senses.”
“Oh. Did the healer see to him?”
“Yes, but they said there’s nothing to be done until he adjusts to the lack of ale.”
“You haven’t seen my husband today?”
The young man blinked. “The Erghian? No, Prince Jowan.” He seemed sincerely confused.
With a curt nod, Jem ran, almost ending up on his sore arse, his boots slipping on the damp stone floor of the tunnel, his lantern light swaying madly. He shoved the lantern toward another confused guard at the entrance, ignoring the chief guard’s shouts as he veered toward the stable.
There was no time to climb back up the winding drive to the castle, and it would take too long for a carriage.
Jem raced into the barn, ignoring the surprised rumblings of the grooms. There was Dybri, the mare who’d bore them from the Holy Place.
His heart thumped. He’d struggled to mount her before, but he’d do it now.
Could he?
Yes! He’d do it. He’d worked hard on Ergh to learn. Thoughts of Austol and betrayal intruded, and he shoved them away, blinking up at Dybri. She was so big, and falling off her back would hurt and—
He paused, attempting to banish the fear and uncertainty. He could ride! He’d done it before. Why was he so afraid now? He took a run of a few steps, desperation fueling him.
“There you are! Darling, what are you doing?”
At his mother’s familiar voice, Jem’s timing went off, and he yanked on poor Dybri’s mane as he slammed down on his arse on the hay-strewn floor. Dybri whinnied, other voices rising. Pain radiated up Jem’s spine as embarrassment flushed him.
“Jem!” Mother was there reaching for him.
He scuttled back out of reach, jumping to his feet and ignoring the ache in his backside. “Where’s Cador? Why did your guards take him?”
“Darling, calm down. I’ll explain everything when—”
“ Now . You’ll explain now!”
Eyes widening, she stared at him. The grooms went silent. She addressed them sharply. “Leave us.”
As they scurried out into the rain, Dybri stamped and snorted, and Jem pet her neck, murmuring to her. “It’s all right. I’m sorry, girl.” To his mother, he demanded in a hard tone, “Tell me where Cador is.”
“He’s perfectly safe, I assure you.”
Gods, how Jem longed to be assured. This was his mother, after all. She’d always taken care of him. Well. Until she hadn’t. But it’d been time for Jem to do his duty by marrying Cador.
Everything was so muddled now, but he could still trust her. Couldn’t he? There had to be an explanation for her knowledge of the sevels and Cador’s arrest.
Yet dread roiled in Jem’s stomach, his life feeling dangerously out of control.
He was home, and home was supposed to be safe.
His mother should have been safe. Part of him wanted to throw himself into her arms and be comforted, but he realized with a pang of sorrow that those days were over, no matter what was actually going on.
Jem cleared his throat. “Tell me.”