Chapter Five
“W ait!” Cador shouted after his brother, but Bryok galloped across a rocky field and into the forest without hesitating.
Curse him to the very depths of the Askorn Sea.
Bryok was maddening, but worse was Cador’s thirst for his approval.
It was one thing when he was a boy. Why did he give a shit as a man what his brother thought?
Delen appeared next to him on her own mount. “You can’t hunt with a second rider.”
Against him, Jem squirmed and said something.
“What?” barked Cador.
Between his legs, Jem went rigid. Still barely loud enough, Jem murmured, “I’m sorry.”
Cador grunted, keeping his gaze on the rutted road. He could feel Delen’s eyes on him, her judgment prickly. Fine, it wasn’t the boy’s fault, but Cador should be going on the hunt with Bryok and the others.
He muttered, “If you could damn well ride a horse like everyone in Ergh…”
Jem’s head was bent, revealing the downy hair at the back of his neck where it had been shorn.
It was a Southern style apparently to have hair longer on top, yet close underneath.
Likely because of the stinking heat down there.
It was said they had no winter to speak of, and he felt sweaty just thinking about it.
Delen still rode beside them, and Cador narrowed his gaze at her. “Why aren’t you hunting with Bryok and the others?”
She shrugged, but there was something there.
Delen was never one to pass up a hunt, even if it was for byghan, the too-lean, long-legged creatures of the forest that in Ergh were only hunted in desperation.
No hunter wasted time on byghans when there was boar to track.
Byghan were easy to fell with spear or sword, but the dry and stringy meat caught in your teeth.
Cador eyed his sister, waiting. Finally, she said, “Bryok’s being a piss-head. Let him hunt it out. If he doesn’t, perhaps he’ll fuck it out tonight.”
Bryok’s wife was home in Ergh, but surely after so many years together was accustomed to her husband’s roving appetites. Yet another reason Cador sneered at marriage—the notion of being faithful to only one person was laughable.
He shrugged in response to Delen.
Does he blame me?
Cador refused to ask such pathetic, childish questions aloud. Bryok hadn’t so much as glanced at him since the wedding, even though he knew the soft little Southern prince wasn’t the mate Cador would ever choose. Bryok’s scorn for the mainland was legendary, but he knew it was Tas’s doing.
Only a handful of the two-dozen people who’d made this journey from Ergh had been trusted with the strategy. No one at home knew the truth. The fewer who knew, the better. Cador hadn’t expected to marry a skittish virgin, but he’d wed a hundred Jems if it meant success.
The time was so close that Cador ached to stop with the lies and damn patience. To take up his spear and sword and do what he must for his people. But not yet. He must wait, and his burden for his people was to mind the little prince.
Cador looked to where Bryok and the handful of hunters disappeared into the forest. The track sliced through fields that didn’t seem able to grow much but grass in the shadow of woodlands.
The sun that had been impossibly high and bright at the Holy Place now neared the horizon, a faint glow behind clouds.
They’d stop soon to make camp and choke down chewy byghan.
Cador would never admit it, but he’d be glad to rest. His freshly salved and bandaged palm hurt more than he liked, a dull ache throbbed in his temples, and he was damn tired of making sure Jem stayed upright.
He was tired of Jem altogether. Why did he have to ride with Cador?
Delen should have taken him if she was so concerned.
To insist you’re a man without ever having ridden a horse! At least Jem would eventually serve a vital purpose whether he liked it or not—and surely he would not. Cador ignored the twinge of guilt. It was for the greater good.
As they neared a cart, Jem leaned closer to it, peering carefully. He’d done so all afternoon, and Cador knew he was searching for his belongings. His books. Books were a luxury. Books didn’t put food in hungry bellies.
Which was why he’d dumped them out of Jem’s trunk before they left the Holy Place. Hunters of Ergh traveled light, not with useless lodestones. Jem himself was enough of a burden.
Cador looked toward the forest, but there was no sign of Bryok and the others yet. Soon, Delen called for a halt to set up camp in a shallow valley with a stream running through it. Cador reined in the borrowed horse and nudged Jem.
“Off.”
Jem sat rigidly, staring down at the ground. “Please don’t push me.”
Guilt flared again and Cador grumbled. He’d expected Jem to land on his feet earlier, forgetting just how flimsy and useless the little prince clearly was. Besides, if Jem snapped a bone, it would only slow them down.
Cador dismounted easily, his boots squelching in the damp earth. “Bring your other leg around to this side so you’re on your belly across his back.”
Stiffly, Jem bent his left leg and inched it up and over, his fingers digging into the horse’s flanks as he turned onto his belly. With Jem’s pert arse in his face, Cador grabbed him by the waist and plonked him on his feet in those fancy boots. “See how your feet were closer to the ground?”
“Yes,” Jem murmured, taking a few shaky steps. He rubbed his arse, wincing.
Laughter rumbled from nearby, Jory leering. “You should have gone easy on him last night. Boy can hardly walk!”
Jem whipped his hand away, eyes wide.
“Don’t recall Cador being big enough to notice,” Kensa said, her wicked smile gleaming. Her light brown skin glistened with sweat at her forehead as she hauled rocks to form a circle. She was a hunter, but apparently she didn’t want to spend time with Bryok either and had stayed behind.
“You’ve ridden so many pricks that any man would get lost for days in there,” Cador called back to a roar of laughter.
“Pass the lad over after supper and I’ll introduce him to a real cock,” Jory said, grabbing his shaft through his leather breeches, his pale, freckled face flushed with good humor. He raised and trained horses and went about checking hooves now, first tying back his mess of shaggy orange hair.
Cador laughed along with the continuing jokes, everyone relaxing after the long day, rubbing down their mounts and starting on casks of ale.
He patted the horse on the rump and sent him off to drink from the stream and chew on the thin grass there.
Jem remained standing with his head down and arms wrapped around himself, the bright, silly colors of his shirt and cloak melded like a rainbow.
“You’ve got plenty of options for cock tonight,” Cador said. “Or if you fancy a wet cunt after all, Kensa might oblige.” He glanced to her. “Small tits, but they’re about the right size for you.”
Kensa jerked her fist at Cador rudely with a grin. Cador gave Jem a friendly nudge, and the boy stumbled back, sitting on the damp ground with a sharp inhalation, his face screwing up in pain.
Oh, for… The jests still weren’t easing the boy’s tension, and Cador bristled. Why was he so fragile and serious? He bent and lifted Jem back onto his feet, Jem making a squeaky little sound like a mouse. He stayed standing, at least.
Cador said, “If you want to piss or shit, use the trees there.” He nodded at the tall, thin elms to the south.
During brief stops it didn’t matter, but when making camp for the night, they used the southern direction for their toilet.
Tas always guffawed and said it was like shitting on the mainlanders’ heads.
Jem nodded, but stood in place while Cador went to drink. He laughed with a few people, watching Jem from the corner of his eye. Jem inched toward the trees, stopping and starting again.
A fire blazed now, darkness settling in.
Jem took a few steps, stopping short when someone else went to piss.
He inched closer and closer, freezing whenever someone else approached.
Cador couldn’t imagine what the fuck the problem was until the copse was empty.
Jem gazed around and bolted into the trees.
“He doesn’t want to piss near someone else?” Kensa asked, following Cador’s gaze with her forehead furrowed.
“Seems not.” Cador shook his head. “He was fussy about it earlier too.” In unison with Kensa, he muttered, “Mainlanders.”
“So…fiddly,” she added. “Can’t imagine fucking him.”
“Me either,” Cador said, then realized what he’d revealed. He quickly added, “Shoving it in while he lay stiff as a board wasn’t what I’d call ‘fucking.’”
Kensa grimaced. “What was Kenver thinking? He could have made a bargain with the South without resorting to this. And bringing him home with us? Madness.” She gave Cador a thump on the back. “If you need a real fuck, you know where to find me.”
The hunters returned with byghans slung over their horses and shoulders, Bryok still ignoring Cador completely.
Cador gulped ale and laughed heartily at someone’s story about buggering a byghan rather than eating it because it was more use that way.
The meat was dry and bland as usual, but it was hot, at least. Cador ripped off a chunk and held it out to Jem.
Jem sat in the shadows at Cador’s shoulder, behind him and not quite part of the circle around the fire. A few peered at him with suspicion, others curiosity, while some ignored him entirely. None spoke to him.
Eyeing the meat as though it was a sarf that might strike and sink in its fangs, Jem reached for it after a moment. He took a nibble and glanced around. “Do Erghians always travel so…informally?”
Cador snorted. “Yes. Did you expect us to cart around fine plates and gold spoons?”
“Of course not,” he replied too quickly.