Chapter Four #3
He bit back a scream as he arced through the air.
But Jem wasn’t falling—Cador’s strong hands gripped him, depositing him safely on the ground as his family approached with the chieftain.
Jem pretended his heart wasn’t beating out of his chest as Mother presented him with a plush cloak the color of ruby wine.
He clutched it around himself although the morning grew humid. He knew he should do his duty with pride instead of roiling resentment and fear, acid sharp at the back of his tongue and sweat stale under his arms.
As Cador spoke to his father, Jem’s parents embraced him and promised to see him again at the autumn feast. Mother smelled like delicate lavender as she held him, but Jem found the scent cloying as he stood stiffly, arms at his side.
“Just think,” she said. “This will be the first Feast of the Blood Moon with a whole Onan for centuries. You and Cador are symbols of this historic reunification. The gods will bless you.”
“Will they shift Ergh back to the mainland so I don’t have to go there?” Jem muttered.
His mother’s embrace sharpened. She whispered, “Remember you represent all of Neuvella and the mainland. You represent me. I know you’ll carry yourself with dignity and grace. I know you won’t disappoint me.”
Guilt surged. “I know, but…” He clung to her and whispered, “I’m afraid. How can you send me there?”
“Oh, my darling son.” She held him tightly. “Just remember, they are like us in the ways that matter. It is time you fly free of the nest. You are braver than you know.” Stepping back, she said more loudly, “And your new husband will guard you with his life.”
In the silence, they all looked to Cador, who apparently took a few moments to remember she was talking about him. He said, “Uh, yes. Of course.”
Somehow it wasn’t reassuring.
Cador’s father spoke in a gruff, commanding voice. “Your son will be an honored guest of Ergh. He shall be protected. In the name of the gods, I swear it.”
Cador stood straighter, clearing his throat. “Yes. I will protect him.” His dutiful words were rather lacking.
After a narrowed glare at Cador, Santo wrapped Jem in their arms tightly. The fact that they smelled of breakfast sausage would have made Jem chuckle on another day.
“You’ll make sure the birds are cared for?” Jem asked. “Some only need to be fed and nursed until they are old enough to fly away into the forest. If a wing is broken or there’s another injury—”
“I know. I’ll be sure your flock are tended. Don’t fret.” Santo ruffled Jem’s hair and whispered, “Think of it as an adventure. What would Morvoren do?”
Despite himself, Jem did laugh softly, the release threatening to become a desperate sob.
He clung to his sibling’s tall frame, burying his face against their shoulder.
He wanted to beg for help, but it would only burden Santo and likely delight Pasco and Locryn, who’d appeared bleary-eyed to clap him on the back.
“Enjoy the ride!” Pasco grinned. “Well, if you can. You must feel a bit tender this morning.” He waggled his thick eyebrows.
There were titters of muffled laughter that Jem studiously ignored, his jaw tight. He watched Cador and his father grasp forearms and hug fiercely. They nodded at each other, but apparently had said all they needed to already. Cador strapped a wicked-looking sword over his back in a sheath.
Then it was time. Whether he liked it or not, Jem was leaving. He eyed the horse, steeling himself to try again. He could do this. Even if it felt very much like he couldn’t, he had to try.
But before he could, Cador plonked him onto another horse. Jem bit back a squeak. The pale horse between his thighs was even bigger than the other creature, the solid warmth of the ground even farther away.
This time, along with being seated properly, there was a solid mass of man at his back, a thick, strong arm around Jem’s waist securing him.
Cador had plucked up Jem like he weighed nothing and mounted behind him in a single leap.
He controlled the horse effortlessly with nudges and clucks of his tongue, his powerful, leather-clad thighs bracketing Jem’s.
Jem’s backside was wedged between Cador’s legs against his groin. He remembered the heft of Cador’s prick, heat flooding his body despite everything. He waved to his family, barely breathing as the Holy Place disappeared behind them.
Instead of a gilded, plush-cushioned carriage, Jem’s cage was Cador’s body surrounding him. His nose filled with musky horse and man, his prick filling too. Mortified that he could feel such fear and arousal in concert, Jem was glad for his cloak.
The horses bore no saddles, only simple leather reins attached to the bridles. Jem supposed this was how the barbarians rode. Cador reached around with his long, strong arms, one still snug around Jem’s middle and the other loosely holding the reins.
The procession of riders and pulled carts continued. The horse swayed side to side as it walked, and Jem squeezed it with his legs, grateful for Cador’s bulk keeping him in place. He was now entering a new world, riding one foreign beast with another pressed against him.
He thought of sun-dappled leaves and the chirps of dillywigs with a pang of grief and longing that thickened his throat and caught his breath. Santo would be sure the birds would be safe, but what would become of Jem sailing to an unknown kingdom with a wild stranger as his mate?
Santo’s question echoed: What would Morvoren do?
Brave adventurer that she was, she’d kick the horse’s flanks and gallop north with a rallying cry like, “Onward to the ends of Onan!” Why, she’d likely—
Gasping, Jem jolted with a gut-churning thought. “My books! Where are my books?”
The horse snorted, and Cador grumbled, “What?” as he leaned forward, pressing close to stroke the horse’s neck.
“My books!” Jem repeated. They’d been piled beside the bed in his guest chamber when he’d last seen them before the wedding.
“Dunno.” Cador didn’t sound like he cared the slightest bit. “With your things in one of the carts, I imagine.”
Anger flared sharply. “I need to be sure. Let me down!”
Cador said simply, “No.”
Jem could hardly breathe. How had he not realized until now?
Yes, he’d been distracted by being forced into marriage with a barbarian banished by the gods, but where was Morvoren?
The fear building since the moment he’d found all eyes on him at the summit exploded into panic that had Jem’s heart about to explode.
To endure this journey without his books was too much to bear.
He whipped around, elbowing Cador in the stomach without meaning to. But he didn’t apologize. Instead, he spat, “You might not be able to read, but I need my books! Where are they?” He shoved at Cador’s stone wall of a chest with all his might, the terror and frustration boiling over.
Thick, rough fingers yanked his hair, and Jem flailed as he was thrust headfirst over the side of the horse, his weight precariously leaning to the right, the animal snorting its discontent.
Jem yelped, scrabbling at Cador’s boot, the world upside down. “Please!”
Wordlessly, Cador wrenched him back up and nudged the horse into a trot.
Jem grabbed at anything, his desperate fingers landing on Cador’s knees.
His face was hot with blood, head spinning and spine jolting with the horse’s movement.
Laughter rang on the wind from other riders.
Jem squirmed with discomfort and embarrassment.
He’d lashed out like a petulant child and had been treated as such.
Delen neared and snapped, “Behave, Cador!” She wore a sword on her back as well, although not all the Northerners did. She asked Jem, “Are you well?”
He wanted to tell her that he wasn’t well in the slightest, but Jem nodded, grateful that she’d asked.
“Oh for fuck’s sake, he’s fine .” Cador nudged the horse to go faster.
They rode for hours without a break. Jem was sore and stiff all the way to his toes and more than ready to relieve himself. The puffs of Cador’s breath were warm on his ear as Jem turned to squint at the nearest cart. There was no sign of his trunk, but he prayed Santo had packed his books.
They would have if they’d been able—of that Jem was certain. Gods, would he really see Santo again? Or their parents? Mother had made it sound like no time at all until the Feast of the Blood Moon, but it seemed a lifetime.
Jem wouldn’t particularly miss his brothers, but the thought of never seeing Santo again made his eyes burn. The last thing he needed to do was start weeping, so he bit his lip, breathing deeply and blinking upward.
The brilliant blue sky of the Holy Place had faded into a cloudy gray as they journeyed north to the shore.
Jem’s backside ached just as much as it had as a boy when the horse had kicked him.
How much farther to the sea? And then how far to Ergh?
He wanted to ask, but after his regrettable outburst, he held his tongue.
When they finally stopped for a break, Jem was both desperately relieved to get off the horse and fearful of how far away the ground appeared.
He tentatively swung one aching leg over the horse’s back so he was sitting to the side, perched awkwardly.
The last thing he wanted to do was ask for help, but—
Jem crashed to the muddy ground thanks to a merciless shove from Cador. He rolled onto his sore backside, blinking up at his hulking shadow of a husband high above.
For a hideous moment, Jem fought tears. Not merely tears, but wrenching sobs that clawed at his throat. No. He would not give this barbarian the satisfaction. He must be strong. He must represent Neuvella and the entire mainland.
Jem pushed to his feet, his legs feeling strangely bowed, every muscle stiff to the point of breaking. Head high, he glared at Cador as the beast hopped down from the stallion with a shocking amount of grace given he was a giant.
Cador asked, “Are you injured?”
“What do you care?”
He shrugged. “I don’t.”
Jaw tight, Jem glanced about at the open fields, trees huddled in the distance. “I need to relieve myself.”
“Piss, you mean? Go ahead. We don’t have all day, little prince .” The last words dripped with disdain.
There were a few guffaws from those within earshot. Jem realized that the Erghians were relieving themselves right out in the open, some not even bothering to walk a few paces from the dirt track. Cocks hung out and others squatted.
Sputtering, Jem whirled around, trying to find somewhere safe to look. He’d urinated outside before, in the privacy of trees or in the lake during long morning swims. But not like this!
“You need me to hold it for you?”
Jem clenched his fists at Cador’s mocking tone. Ignoring him, he strode—well, hobbled—a few paces and tugged at the laces of his breeches. He pulled out his prick just enough, feeling like dozens of eyes were now focused on him.
Yet when he finished and peeked around, the Erghians were going about their business, checking horses and carts, distributing parcels of food that had likely been packed by the clerics. Jem ate his bread, meat, and cheese gratefully since he’d been barely able to swallow a bite that morning.
The last thing he wanted to do was mount the stallion again. His whole body hurt, but he had no choice. He didn’t protest as Cador lifted him astride the horse and swung up behind him.
Jem sat as straight as he could, aching muscles tensed against the temptation to rest back against Cador’s bulk. How strange to think that they’d exchanged vows of duty and protection in the temple. This stranger was his husband .
Yet Jem had still never been kissed.
He scoffed at himself. He’d probably perish on this journey to the unknown, and kissing was the last thing he should be worried about.
Still, loneliness hollowed him. Instead of a loving partner to keep him warm and safe, Jem had only a wall of muscle behind him, his husband as cold and forbidding as Ergh promised to be.