Chapter Twenty-Three #2
And tomorrow, they would set sail for Ergh. Never would Jem have thought he’d yearn to make that voyage again! But he couldn’t wait to return to the peace of the cottage in the woods. Their cottage. From the corner of his eye, he watched Cador, wishing they were alone.
“Can’t get enough of me, hmm?” Cador murmured.
Heat flushed Jem’s face, but he kept his head high, shaking it slightly.
Cador grinned. “Patience.”
Delen grumbled under her breath. “You’ll put me off my food, and the feast is the only thing making this worthwhile.”
But when Jem looked to her, she flashed a smile. Delen had supported them completely, and Jem tentatively trusted her again.
Hours after the feast had finally begun, Delen fiddled with her spoon. “I wonder if Creeda misses me.” She scoffed. “I’m sure she’s too busy with her children. Besides, I won’t be back to Ergh until next year. She’ll barely remember me by then.”
Clearly a silly exaggeration, but Jem couldn’t blame her. “I’m sure that’s not true. And I’m sure in quiet moments she misses you very much,” he said.
Jory swallowed a bite of roast potatoes. “Undoubtedly!” He grew uncharacteristically serious. “You were by her side through Hedrok’s suffering. More than that selfish, sorry—” He stabbed another potato with his fork, clearing his throat. “She won’t forget your faithfulness.”
Jem and Cador agreed enthusiastically, and she gave them all a wan smile.
Across the feasting hall, Kenver sat at a table with Jem’s mother, Treeve, and the queen of Gwels.
Delen eyed them and asked, “Do you think Tas really trusts me to remain as Ergh’s representative or is he just so desperate to get home that he’d leave anyone behind? ”
“He knows you’ll do a far better job of it than I would,” Cador said. “Stop doubting yourself. Have a fancy little fish. And more mead. More mead will help.”
Laughing, Delen raised her cup.
Jem could understand her misgivings. As the feast went on, some of his own surfaced.
As excited as he was to return to Ergh, it was so far from his family.
At least this time, he’d be bringing trunks packed with books at Cador’s insistence.
Jem would have to become accustomed to the distance, and surely he would in time.
Later, he watched the stars in the cloudless sky, the haze of the wildfires only a memory now. He stood in the field behind Ergh’s wing of austere rooms, thinking back to his and Cador’s blind race through the tunnels. How Cador had been at his side in the darkest of times.
He snorted aloud. The darkest of times. How melodramatic and literal.
“Tell me the joke.”
Jumping, Jem spun and blinked up at Kenver.
He smiled awkwardly. “Er… It’s nothing.” They’d been polite and strained in the past months, but as Jem glanced around in the night, he realized this was the first time they’d spoken alone.
Cador was nearby in their room, fast asleep after indulging at the feast, but he’d come running at a shout.
Not that Jem needed rescuing. He could speak to Kenver alone. Though this man had coldly plotted his kidnapping, there was nothing to fear now. He didn’t imagine they’d ever be close or grow fond, but they could be civil.
“I…” Kenver swore under his breath. “I owe you an apology.”
Jem dropped his hand suddenly, realizing he’d reached up to scratch his scalp, his fingernails scraping. He breathed deeply to calm his thumping heart. “You do. Yes.”
“I’m sorry. I thought of you as nothing but a pawn.”
“Thank you?” He cursed himself silently for his tentative nervousness, clasping his hands behind him and standing taller. “I mean to say—you did. And you should be sorry.”
Kenver nodded, shifting uneasily, his gaze on his boots. He was clearly not accustomed to issuing apologies. He gruffly added, “You make my son happier than I knew he could be.”
“I’m glad you recognize it. He makes me extremely happy too. The happiest.”
“Good. I will see my children and grandchildren happy if I have anything to say about it.” He suddenly smiled with a softness Jem had never witnessed. “My husband would have liked you very much.”
“Cador says he was a great hunter.” Jem wasn’t sure what he would have had in common with the man.
“Oh, yes.” Kenver gazed out across the moonlit field, the grasses a harvest gold. “But he was so much more. A wonderful father. Our Cador was always such a good boy.”
He was silent for long moments before seeming to snap back to attention, peering intently at Jem. “He has grown into a man to make his parents proud. You are a good match. We return to Ergh with the mainland’s finest agricultural minds and healers thanks to your mother. Thanks to you.”
“Tas?” Cador approached swiftly, wearing only unbuttoned trousers, his feet bare. “Jem, I woke alone.”
“I’m well.” Jem instantly reached for Cador’s hand, their branded palms meeting like second nature. “I wanted some air. Nothing to worry about.”
Still tensed, Cador looked between his tas and Jem. “If you’re sure.”
“I am,” Jem said. He squeezed Cador’s fingers.
“I drank too much mead,” Tas said, backing away. “Makes me fucking sentimental. We all need sleep or we’ll be dragged by the horse tomorrow.” He disappeared around the building.
Cador watched him go uneasily. “What did he say to you?”
“It was an apology. Nothing to worry about.” He glanced down at Cador’s bare feet in the grass, knowing he must have almost run from their chamber naked in concern for Jem. “Come, my love. Let’s get back to bed.”
Cador nodded, then groaned. “Too much mead. Why does it taste so good?”
Laughing, Jem led him inside and made him drink a whole pitcher of water. Then another. And one more for good measure.
*
In the dawn’s light outside the stable, Cador was surprisingly chipper. “Would you like your own horse?” he asked.
Dressed for travel in leather, Jem hesitated. “No, but…” He backed up, took a deep breath, and skip-hopped into the air and over Dybri’s back, fingers tight in her mane as he muscled all the way across, fighting through the moment when he might have crashed back down to the ground.
Though if he’d fallen, Cador was there to catch him.
Grinning, Cador mounted easily behind him, tucking Jem comfortably between his thighs and back against his body. Kenver, Jory, and the others had already started north, the dozens of carts of sevels—and one with Jem’s books squeezed in—creaking to life.
“Ready?” Cador asked, one arm snug about Jem.
Channeling Morvoren, Jem cried, “Onward to the ends of Onan!”
They laughed and rode into the future, ignoring any curious glances, lost in their own world.