Chapter One #2
As it was, they gave each other painfully civil nods and smiles so brittle the slightest offence would surely shatter the peace. The threat of war had never been so real, even as they sat in the temple for a sermon on unity. Was land really worth it? Couldn’t they share the valley in question?
His brothers would scoff and call him na?ve, no doubt. This was just one of the reasons Jem preferred to stay home with his books and hatchlings. He dreaded getting involved in politics, never mind war.
Shifting, he tried to hide his wince at the numbness in his backside.
He knew this sacred site, resting like a crown atop the mainland of Onan, was unchanged from the earliest records.
He knew it was the holiest of land—chosen by the gods themselves, the clerics often reminded them.
He knew he should be reverent and still and dutiful as he listened to the cleric’s boundless wisdom.
But surely a few cushions wouldn’t go amiss?
He gazed over at the Ergh delegates once more.
Even the chieftain’s daughter was a head taller than Jem and far more muscled.
Many of the group looked as if they spent their days hunting wild boar on horseback with deadly spears, which was entirely possible since boar was apparently Ergh’s main industry.
Legend had it when the gods had banished Ergh across the Askorn Sea, the mythical tusked boars had been trapped there. Indeed, they’d only enjoyed smoked boar again on the mainland since Ergh’s return, and Ergh traded it only at a premium. Jem supposed slaying wild boar wasn’t an easy task.
The chieftain’s children certainly looked suited to wielding a spear.
The eldest son was scarred and scowling and frankly terrifying.
But the younger had a beguiling handsomeness to accompany his might.
What did his full lips look like lifted in a smile?
Was his laugh warm and low? Did Erghians laugh?
It was wonderfully strange to actually behold them in the flesh. Flesh that was—
An icy blue glare met Jem’s curious gaze, and he bit back a gasp as he whipped his head down. That the man he’d been ogling had looked straight at him was akin to a hero from the pages of one of his books suddenly appearing before him in his chamber.
Jem must not gawk at the Northerners as though they were exotic beasts captured from the mountains of Ebrenn. He reluctantly lifted his head and looked everywhere else but across the courtyard.
Ancient stones rose up around the temple, carved to represent the four gods of earth, wind, fire, and water. Birds chirped, their twitters and cries making Jem miss the ravens’ long caws and the trills of the dillywigs high in the branches near the lake’s edge.
Would the hatchlings be too cold or hungry without him there to care for them? Jem would spend hours in his aviary whenever injured or orphaned birds needed him, sometimes through the night. All he could do was hope for the best, but he wished he’d never had to leave.
Mother had always permitted him to stay home rather than attend boring summits, much to his siblings’ annoyance.
Even Santo had complained that Jem was spoiled, that Mother was too free with him, and that he should have official duties as a prince.
Jem was a man now, so he grudgingly admitted it was beyond time he fulfilled his obligation to Neuvella.
Still, he missed home and would be happy to never leave it again.
If he closed his eyes to the waning day, Jem could imagine golden light turning orange and pink behind green boughs across his lake, crickets tuning up for their evening concert in the long grasses. He could almost smell the perfume of summer roses.
He snapped his eyes open, the thin soles of his knee-high boots sliding on the stone floor as he shifted.
As a prince of Neuvella, if he couldn’t appear rapt with the proceedings, he at least had to look awake.
He smoothed a palm over the soft fabric of his breeches, then picked at a loose thread by his knee.
He wrapped it around the tip of his finger, making light circles on his golden-brown skin.
As he realized the cleric’s pontificating had in fact come to a close, a strange, fraught silence settled in. Gooseflesh rippled over him, sudden energy crackling in the temple. Had the thrilling outsiders of Ergh caused a scene? Jem glanced up eagerly—and his heart jolted with sudden dread.
Everyone was looking right at him.
Jem snapped his spine straight and pulled back his shoulders, hearing his father’s constant refrain to stand tall instead of always hunching over books or hatchlings. Delegates from all sides stared at him slack-jawed, and his mouth went dry as dirt.
Had he spoken of his boredom with the sermon aloud? Had he insulted the clerics? The gods? Somehow betrayed his lustful fantasies of the Northern son pinning him down in a wild frenzy of passion?
No one so much as whispered, and Jem didn’t dare breathe.
Oh gods, what had he done? His heart thumped so powerfully he was certain every soul in the temple could hear it in the stunned silence. His skin prickled hotly. He had no choice but to speak since an invisible vise apparently gripped the tongues of all present.
He glanced at his beloved sibling Santo next to him. Santo’s mouth turned down, sympathy in their kind brown eyes. Yet they remained mute.
To the courtyard at large, Jem asked, “Pardon?”
Of all people, it was the second son of the North who broke the silence. He growled with clear disgust. “Are you mad?” he barked at his father. “Marry? Him ?” Then he somehow turned his withering, sneering gaze directly on Jem . “This…” His lip curled, and he motioned at Jem. “This…”
“Cador,” his sister warned, eyebrows high.
“This boy ?” Cador spat the word like the bitterest poison.
“I’m a man!” Jem exclaimed, hands fisting. The sputtered response came reflexively after years of his brothers’ teasing about his stature. His voice rose too high in indignation, and almost everyone burst into laughter, breaking the spell of shock.
Wait, what was that part about marriage ?
Jem must’ve misunderstood. He had to have misunderstood.
He was certainly not marrying anyone for the foreseeable future, let alone this barbarian!
Especially not this barbarian who sneered at him in horrified abhorrence.
Beside Santo, their brothers Pasco and Locryn seemed shocked. Locryn struggled to stifle giggles.
Santo shook their head. “Oh, Jem. I’m sorry.”
“What’s happening?” Jem’s pulse thundered in his ears and he could barely hear his own question.
The ancient cleric’s thready voice positively boomed now. “Cador of Ergh and Prince Jowan of Neuvella shall be wed. Ergh’s chieftain and Neuvella’s queen have welcomed this historic partnership that will symbolize their renewed fellowship and the unity of Onan. We shall all be one.”
Jem so rarely thought of himself as Prince Jowan that for a mad moment, he hoped the cleric spoke of another.
His parents stared straight ahead, and Jem had to lean forward on the horrible stone chair to glimpse their faces beyond Santo and their brothers, who had stopped laughing, at least. “Mother, Father!” There was a din of chatter now.
Mother! Jem wanted to scream. How could she of all people do this to him?
Father said nothing as usual—he didn’t make the decisions and never argued with Mother.
Face composed, Mother beheld him with her dark gaze, her eyes beaming with unspoken sympathy.
“It is done. For the good of Onan and the pleasure of the gods.” Jem hardly saw the sheen of tears before she blinked them away and turned her head forward.
Across the temple, the chieftain’s son—Cador—seemed to be having a similar discussion with his father, who was stone-faced and clearly unyielding.
There didn’t seem to be another parent there.
A thunderous expression creased the scarred face of Cador’s older brother, and he argued with their father as well while the sister seemed to ignore them all.
Married ? To this stranger from a place that might as well be from one of Jem’s books? Married to a huge man with all those muscles that both enticed and terrified him? Good gods. No. This couldn’t be happening. It simply couldn’t.
He’d told his parents he’d prefer a male spouse or perhaps someone of an open gender like Santo.
Santo was married to a wonderful man, and Jem’s brothers were wed to women.
His mother’s sister had a wife, and across Onan, marriages had always bonded whoever chose to be joined, children adopted or born of unions, no matter which.
Choice playing a vital role. After being spurned by the soldier and retreating to his daydreams and the pages of his books, Jem had idly hoped to one day find a good man who was pretty and kind and enjoyed reading in the evenings.
Certainly not this beastly barbarian who likely couldn’t even read his own name.
Yes, it was true that Cador had stirred Jem’s loins the way a hero warrior in one of his books might. It had been a harmless fantasy! A whim to pass the time while he’d been forced to sit through the sermon. Nothing more!
It was impossible.
Jem’s mind whirled this way and that like a flock of dillywigs zigzagging through the sky.
Tonight, he’d appeal to his parents. Santo would help.
There had to be another way to unify with Ergh.
Neuvellan weddings took place after harvest, which was months off.
Jem would find a way to stop this. He’d run away if he had to.
If only he could fly. He missed his feathered companions from the lake with a pang of longing so fierce it stole his breath. He shot to his feet, the need to move shattering his rigid shock.
A fresh burst of nervous laughter echoed through the temple, to the obvious displeasure of the clerics. A voice behind him from his own people jeered. “Perhaps he’s eager for it!”