Chapter Four #2
Oh, gods. No. No! He couldn’t go there of all places. He had to go home. He had to return to his hatchlings! To his chamber. To safety.
Cador sighed impatiently. “Yes, yes, fine. But—” He broke off, a heavy silence descending. Jem didn’t look at him, but could practically hear Cador’s jaw tightening. “Both?” he echoed, the question low and dangerous.
Jem was rooted to the spot, his heart racing and palms sweaty. Surely they couldn’t force him to sail to Ergh . He hadn’t even quite believed the cursed place existed! In the space of a day, he was married to a brutish stranger and now expected to sail north into the unknown? Alone?
As he watched the cleric and her horribly calm smile, he knew they could and very much would force him to go, because it was for the good of Onan to build peace and partnership with Ergh. It would please the gods and bring balance and all that rot. What Jem wanted didn’t matter.
His muscles seized with the urge to run.
If only he could go home, he’d forget his dark fantasies and find a good, gentle man to love him.
He could pretend he wasn’t wed to the barbarian towering beside him.
He’d get his head out of his books and leave his birds—for a spell—and perform whichever duties to Neuvella his parents wanted. Anything! Anything but this.
Gods, he didn’t want to go anywhere with these wild people who sneered at him and would take him farther away from home than he’d ever believed possible. They cared nothing for him—his new husband perhaps least of all.
What if I never come home?
Mounting terror clawed at him. He told himself there was no way to know his fate, but some primal instinct hissed that if he left now, only a treacherous world of stone and ice waited. A world that could be his doom.
Jem’s gaze darted to the massive doors of the great hall, which were open to the morning birdsong and honeysuckle breeze. He couldn’t run—it would be pointless. He would be hauled back to snickers and whispers, shame-faced and made even more small and pathetic than he was.
His parents and Cador’s father joined them. Jem resented bitterly that this discussion was apparently to occur in front of anyone who happened to have roused themselves for breakfast. Surely it should have been done in private. But clearly it was not to be a discussion whatsoever.
Jem’s mother smiled placidly. “We have invited Ergh’s chieftain to be our honored guest in Neuvella. Jem, you shall visit Ergh in the meantime and enjoy the picturesque late spring and summer months in the North. Then we’ll reunite here at the Feast of the Blood Moon. Won’t that be wonderful?”
Jem wanted to shout a denial, grab her and beg for mercy, but what could he do but agree? Miserably, he nodded.
She added, “Just think—you’ll be the first person from the mainland to journey to Ergh for lifetimes, aside from the clerics.”
The head cleric beamed. “You have truly been honored by the gods.”
If this is honor, who needs smiting?
“Tas, this was not what we discussed.” Cador bit out the words like he’d eaten cherries picked too early, still hard and sour.
“No, but the clerics are wise. One night is simply not enough for grooms to be together before parting. And in fellowship, I shall be gifted with Neuvella’s hospitality and visit Gwels.”
“Yes, but—”
“These months will see the seeds of your bond with your prince grow tall and strong,” the chieftain said. “Like a mighty sevel tree.”
Cador said gruffly, “Then we shall feast before our fruitful journey.” He marched toward the wedding table where they’d sat the night before.
Jem had no choice but to follow, although he didn’t think he’d be able to choke down a single bite.
Soon, he made his way along the table laden with meat, bread, rich pastries, and fruit, mindlessly adding items to his plate since that was what he was supposed to do at breakfast. Santo joined him, their face pinched.
“I’m sorry,” Santo murmured.
Jem nodded, his throat too thick to speak.
“Perhaps it won’t be so terrible.” Santo leaned in to whisper, “How did last night go?”
Jem shook his head, keeping his eyes on the heaping platter of sausage. He speared one and dropped it forlornly on his plate.
Santo tucked one of Jem’s curls behind his ear. “You didn’t enjoy yourself?” Although they still whispered, their voice hardened. “If that beast hurt you—”
“No, nothing like that.” Jem glanced about to make sure no one was in earshot. “He has no interest in fucking me. Not that I blame him.”
“I do.” Santo hissed, “He should be so lucky!”
“It was a relief.” That was true. Mostly.
“I suppose so. But you are wed now. You’ve waited so long.”
“No matter. We have no desire to bed each other.”
Santo gave him a knowing look. “I think you should very much enjoy bedding him.”
“Perhaps,” he had to admit. “Who can say what will happen once we know each other a bit better. I’m in no rush for, for…that.”
“Fair enough. It can be marvellous, you know. With the right person.” Santo’s eyes lit up as they spotted their husband enter the hall.
“Go on. Don’t worry about me.” Jem tried for a smile and went to join Cador, wishing he could even hope to one day feel such delight at the mere sight of his husband. Knowing that day would never come.
“Jem?”
He turned to find Prince Treeve giving a tentative smile, holding a plate of eggs and meat. “Oh. Yes?”
Treeve’s smile was sympathetic. “Jem—may I call you that?” At Jem’s nod, he added, “I wanted to give my congratulations.” He paused, raising an eyebrow.
“Or perhaps my condolences? Regardless, please know you have a friend in the West. I’d hoped to get to know you better during this summit, but… well.”
Regret and longing filled Jem. To think he might have married this handsome, genteel prince. “Yes, well.” He cleared his throat. “Thank you for your kind wishes.”
Treeve frowned. “I do mean it, Jem. If we—” He shook his head. “Forgive me. I’m keeping you from your husband.” After a short bow, he left Jem with the platters of fruits.
Though he wasn’t hungry in the slightest, Jem took as long as he could choosing his breakfast foods, torturing himself with fanciful notions of what might have been.
*
Too soon, Jem was shepherded to the churned-up dirt outside the stable where no grass grew, wondering if he and Cador would be forced to ride in the same carriage for days. The Holy Place rested at the north end of the mainland. How far was it to the coast?
But wait… Where were the carriages? Jem gazed around and found none, which was most curious. There were only horses and carts with large wheels. Surely that didn’t mean…
No. Surely not.
Cador had stalked off earlier after gobbling down a huge breakfast, and now he appeared. “This will be your horse.” He held the mane of a massive animal with brown hair and white spots and hooves that looked bigger than Jem’s head.
“My horse?” Jem repeated blankly.
“Get on. We’ve wasted enough daylight.”
Jem couldn’t have vaulted himself up onto the huge creature’s back even if he wanted to. Which he did not. Not even a little.
Cador scowled. “Surely you’ve seen a horse before? There are horses in all corners of Onan, I believe.”
“Yes, but… I can’t ride one.” He inched back as the animal snorted and shifted ominously.
Cador huffed. “What is this game? How did you get here if you didn’t ride?”
“In a carriage.” That way he could read, although he always felt vaguely sick to his stomach during carriage journeys. It was worth it.
More importantly, Jem had been terrified of riding horses since Pasco had tricked him as a boy into mounting a bad-tempered mare who threw him to the dirt and kicked him for good measure.
Her hoof had struck the meat of his left buttock—a blessing since the damage hadn’t been permanent.
But he hadn’t been able to sit for a week, much to the amusement of many, even Santo.
“A carriage,” Cador repeated scornfully.
“Don’t you have carriages?”
“Carriages would fall to pieces in a day. In the North, we ride.”
“Some in the South ride! Many do.” Jem replied defensively. “I simply don’t care to.”
“We’re doing plenty of things we don’t fucking care to, aren’t we? You’ve never actually ridden a horse yourself when you weren’t being pulled along in a gilded cage. Is that what you’re saying?”
“Well, I wouldn’t quite phrase it like that.”
Cador’s lips quirked into what might have been a smile before he scowled. “This is the horse you’ll ride north to the shore. A few servants are coming along to return the animals once we’re at sea.”
“Then why can’t I borrow a carriage?”
Cador ignored the question. “This will be your horse. Get the fuck up on her.”
Jem backed away. “It’s impossible.”
Without another word, Cador strode forward, picked up Jem around the waist, and plonked him atop the horse’s broad back.
The animal whinnied and stamped, and Jem scrambled to clutch what he could of its mane, his branded palm flaring with pain so hot he felt sick.
He prayed the horse wouldn’t bolt and send him crashing to the ground, where he’d surely be trampled if the impact didn’t kill him first.
“Oh gods!” Jem squeaked with terror, but he couldn’t help it. The horse was sidestepping, and he was going to tumble to his doom before they even set foot—or hoof—outside the Holy Place.
“Sit up and control her!” Cador barked. “These aren’t untamed beasts—they’re the horses of gentle clerics.”
Delen appeared, effortlessly wheeling around her mount. “It’s his first time. You can’t expect him to handle the animal right away.”
“A virgin in all things that matter,” Cador muttered.
Delen asked, “What was that?”
“Nothing!” Jem yelped, clinging to the horse’s back and trying not to think about how shockingly far away the ground looked. He had no idea what he was doing, and he was about to fall, and the huge hooves would crush him, and—