Chapter One #3
“Gods, can you imagine?” someone replied in a low voice that wasn’t low enough. “Look at those savages! I wager he won’t survive the wedding night. His groom might break him in two!”
Laughter rippled out despite the clerics’ admonishing glares, although Ebrenn’s king did not look amused in the least, his expression thunderous.
Jem’s face burned as more voices around the temple gossiped, as if this was all a bit of folly and not his life .
Standing there, willing himself to simply disappear, he glanced left and right.
The raised courtyard temple had only one entry under the marble arch, the path leading into the hillside, winding a twisting route that led to a flowered meadow and the low, sprawling stone home of the clerics.
The delegates slept in austere chambers in wings corresponding to their kingdoms. The Ergh wing had stood empty for lifetimes upon lifetimes. And now Jem was expected to marry one of them?
The archway to freedom was too far to make a run for it, but now that Jem stood, sitting again on the awful chair was too great a surrender. He kept his head high and walked calmly across the temple, putting one thin-soled boot in front of the other.
He didn’t risk a glance toward the Northern delegates. His eyes stung, and if he burst into tears in front of everyone—let alone in front of the barbarians—he might wither up and die right then and there.
Whispers followed him into the twisting tunnel through the earth, flickering torchlight casting ghoulish shadows across his path. The murmurs faded, his own harsh breath filling the quiet as he broke into a run, passing a startled young soldier who guarded the exit into the purple meadow.
Jem yearned to crawl under his blankets and wake with all of this nothing but an unfortunate dream.
Footsteps echoed on the stone floor of the path inside the hill, and he imagined the barbarian bursting out, hauling him over his wide shoulder like a sack of grain, and spiriting him away to the frozen North.
Jem ruthlessly quashed a traitorous pulse of desire.
Santo appeared in the meadow, and Jem barely resisted throwing himself into his sibling’s arms. Brown skin glistening, Santo dabbed sweat from their forehead. They frowned at the low sun and urged Jem toward the southern wing of the guest quarters.
They kept their dark, glossy hair far longer than Jem, and lifted the curls from the back of their neck. “I’ve never known it to be so hot here at the Holy Place. Feels like we’re back home,” Santo groused.
“If only,” Jem muttered. Santo complained about the heat most days, but loved their long hair, as did their husband, who enjoyed weaving it into elaborate patterns. Jem had always found it romantic, but at the moment, any notion of romance made his stomach curdle.
The clerics’ headquarters wasn’t a castle like the one Jem’s family had lived in for centuries, the idea being that the Holy Place was austere and simple and only there in service of the gods.
Although it still had a grand dining hall and Jem suspected there were more comforts hidden in its maze of buildings.
In the cool stone corridor of the southern guest wing, a servant nodded to them serenely and offered to bring refreshments to the chamber Jem was using.
Once they were alone inside with fresh water, tea, and a plate of little round cakes, Jem was only able to sip from his cup, the idea of sweets turning his stomach.
“I’m not marrying him,” he announced, pacing back and forth by the narrow bed.
On one pass, he bumped the side table and shot out a hand to save the tower of books he’d brought on the journey from toppling.
“We know next to nothing of him or these people! They reappear after lifetimes and we’re supposed to, to— marry them?
I’m supposed to marry one of them? I don’t even know him! And gods, look at him!”
Perched on the side of the mattress, the sleeves of their purple silk shirt rolled up, Santo sighed heavily. They wore tall boots and tight breeches like Jem’s and ran their palms over the material, making a shushing sound. “Jem, you don’t have a choice. The bargain has been struck.”
“Then they can un-strike it. It’s only spring. There are months until wedding season. Ergh can find fellowship with Neuvella and please the whims of the gods in some other manner.”
Santo made a little sound of…what? Jem stared at them, hair standing up on the back of his neck at the miserable expression creasing his sibling’s face. “What is it?”
“Well… The thing is that the wedding will be out of season. For the sake of securing this bond with Ergh.” Santo held up their hands. “I only learned of any of this earlier today. I’m sorry. I tried to warn you, but you were off following the birds as usual.”
“Out of season,” Jem repeated, fresh dread sinking through him.
Santo bit their lip. “For the good of Onan?”
“When is this wedding to take place?” The fingers of dread closed into an iron fist in Jem’s belly. “When?” His voice rose. “ When ?”
“Tomorrow.”
His knees buckled, but he caught himself. Santo half rose, but Jem waved them off and dropped onto the bed beside them. He flattened his hands on his thighs, then dug in his fingers, the soft material of his breeches bunching.
“I don’t understand,” Jem whispered. He slumped against his sibling, and Santo wrapped an arm around him.
“It was the clerics’ suggestion,” Mother said from the open doorway. She strode in, gathering the bright silk of her long red dress aside before perching on the stone chair across from the bed in the narrow chamber.
Father entered behind her, closing the wooden door with a creak and loud thud. His dark hair was threaded with gray, yet his belly showed no softening of age. He clasped his hands behind his back and said nothing, waiting for his wife to speak.
Gold and silver rings glittered on her threaded fingers.
Jem looked at his favorite, a silver bird with wings spread wide and green stones for eyes.
As a child, she’d let him wear it on his thumb whenever he asked even though he’d lost it more than once and owed the eagle-eyed servants for finding it.
But Mother had never refused him anything, even when she should. Jem stared at her now, feeling like she’d slipped a fatal knife between his ribs.
“Darling, I’ve told you before that you won’t be able to while away your days with books and birds forever. You’ve reached twenty years. I have been patient, allowing you the time you seemed to need. But you knew this day was coming.”
Jem couldn’t choke down the sputter of outrage as he straightened from his sibling’s half-embrace. “No! I knew I would be assigned more diplomatic tasks, and that I’d wed eventually. I was never warned of this day. Of wedding that barbarian! Tomorrow !”
A perfect curl had escaped the elaborate, jeweled twist of hair around Mother’s head and her golden crown, and she brushed it from her forehead.
Their whole family had long, thick eyelashes, but she’d curled hers more for the summit, making her brown eyes even bigger.
She blinked away a fresh glistening. When she spoke, her voice was placid.
“It is a blessing that Ergh has returned to Onan. We will be officially united once more under the eyes of the gods. It is an honor to play our roles.”
“I’m to feel honored to be forced into marriage with that brute? A complete stranger? We know barely anything of Ergh and its people! I don’t want anything to do with them.” Jem fought another surge of panic. “It’s not fair!”
His parents shared a glance. Father said, “No, I wouldn’t call it fair at all. Only necessary. Your siblings are already married, and of all the royal children in Onan, you are the best candidate.”
“My cousin of the East is of marriageable age!”
Mother said, “He is to wed the daughter of an important family in Gwels. He loves her and the match is made.”
“What of, of—” He cast about. “Prince Treeve of Ebrenn? He is not wed!”
“You know the West’s reputation. Their king does them no favors. That man is—”
“I know,” Jem interrupted before his mother could launch into a listing of grievances. “Still, Treeve seems pleasant enough.”
Mother’s lips twisted. “Don’t let his pretty face fool you.
No one in that family is to be trusted.” She raised her hand, and Jem glimpsed the marriage brand that had been seared into her palm in the shape of a crown.
“You will wed Cador of Ergh tomorrow. There is no alternative. We know you prefer men, or else you could have married the chieftain’s daughter. We all want this to be a good match.”
The daughter would be no less frightening. Jem sputtered. “But why must we marry at all?”
“The clerics wish it,” Mother answered. “They have toiled for lifetimes to make Onan whole once more. The gods wish it. The time has come. Bonds must be forged.”
“But why?” Jem wanted to stamp his foot. He cleared his throat and lowered his voice. It wouldn’t do to keep acting like a child. “We haven’t needed them for so many years. We don’t need them now. They can keep their wild boar and their furs.”
Mother frowned. “Perhaps they need us, Jem. Ergh was cast out alone while we have been blessed by the gods and lived together in harmony.”
Jem scoffed mightily. “You’ve argued with the West forever! You just said none of them are to be trusted! If it’s not the border in the Valley of the Gods, it’s the price of oil from deep in their mountains, or even the cost of a bushel of sevels.”