Chapter Eight #2
A wave of new loneliness washed over him, even stronger than it had been when he was huddled alone below.
This distant land might as well have been the moon in the sky.
He saw not a bit of color or comfort. Ergh was barren.
He yearned for verdant grasses and honeysuckle breezes, his aviary by the lake where he was safe and in control.
Where everything was as familiar as the worn pages of his favorite books.
Jem realized he had to speak lest he be unbearably rude. Not that Cador cared what Jem thought, but still. “It’s…impressive. I’ve never seen such cliffs before.”
That was true, at least. Jem had once visited Ebrenn’s mountains, snow-capped high above, soaring above evergreen forests and crisp, clear rivers that cut through fields of wildflowers in spring. It had been warm enough that he hadn’t even needed his lightest cloak.
Cador said, “The Cliffs of Glaw are a natural defense. Any invaders would be spotted by the watch before having to sail farther around.”
“Yes,” Jem agreed, peering up at the sheer rock faces. The cliffs jutted out in a series of impossibly narrow peninsulas. There was no shore below, the rock faces disappearing into the roiling white water.
“They’re like the fingers of a hand.”
“Oh, yes.” Jem could see it now, five massive peninsulas with the sea between them, darkness in the depths.
“Anyone who tries to scale these cliffs will be crushed in Ergh’s fist.”
“Seems likely,” Jem agreed. He squinted at the nearest rock face. “What’s that blob there? Not too far from the top.”
Cador followed Jem’s gaze. “Likely a dred nest. They’re huge birds.
They feed on fish and nest on cliff faces where their young are safer from predators.
The rock face looks smooth from a distance, but there are some deep, narrow gouges.
The dreds build out their nests with thick branches of pine needles, keeping their young safe behind them in the rock’s crevices. ”
Jem listened avidly, wishing he could get a closer look.
Signs of life! Birds he’d never heard of!
A small bloom of excitement fought to unfurl.
“Ah. There aren’t many large birds in Neuvella.
Why don’t the dreds nest high in the trees?
Surely that would be safer than perching on the side of a cliff? ”
Cador frowned. “I don’t know. Never thought about it.
They eat fish, so I suppose they like staying close to their food.
The nests are damn impressive. Built to withstand the fierce Askorn wind.
When I was a boy, my brother once lowered me down on a rope.
I could sit right in the nest and it bore my weight.
I was a child, but not a particularly small one. ”
“That is impressive. And if they use branches for their nests, there must be trees on Ergh?” Jem asked hopefully.
“Of course. You think we live on nothing but rock and dirt?”
“No!” Jem opened and closed his mouth. “Well, these cliffs give a rather…foreboding first impression.”
Cador looked up at them, the cliffs towering higher and higher. He grunted, which Jem thought meant he agreed.
The rest of the ship’s passengers went about their business, ignoring Jem near the bow. Delen did come to ask if he wanted her cloak again, but it didn’t seem right. He could stand being cold. He had to toughen up. Cador didn’t offer his.
White flakes soon swirled in the air. Hard pinpricks pelted his face as the wind gusted, and Jem realized it was snow, of course.
He held out his palm, watching pale flakes sit on his skin before melting.
Morvoren had once journeyed to a northern land, where she’d frolicked in soft pillows of fresh snow after defeating a dragon king.
Her merman lover swam under the ice and surprised her, whisking her off to make love before a roaring fire.
She’d never mentioned her ears feeling so cold in the wind that they burned.
“What do you think of snow?” Cador asked.
“It’s terribly unpleasant.” Jem held out his hand for more flakes. “Yet beautiful as well. I’ve glimpsed it before only from a distance, atop the mountains in Ebrenn.”
After a few beats of silence, Cador asked, “What do you make of them?”
“The mountains? Don’t you have any here on Ergh?”
“Yes, in the north. I meant the people.”
“Oh! The Ebrennians?” Jem considered it.
“The people themselves are fine, I suppose. Their king is a miserable sort. Usually fighting with my mother about something. They’ve been threatening battle against her lately, but I’m sure the clerics will smooth it over.
I’ve met some at official events, but I can’t say I actually know anyone from Ebrenn.
But I keep to myself except when my parents force me to be a prince. ”
“Have you always shirked your duty?”
Jem cringed. He did sound spoiled, didn’t he? “It’s just that I’m not very good at it. Diplomacy. Politics. I’d much rather be tending my birds or reading.”
“We’d all rather be doing something else.”
“What would you be doing if you could?”
“Hunting,” he answered without hesitation. “Riding Massen deep in the forest.”
“Massen?”
“My stallion.” There was fondness in his tone.
The ship rocked, the mast creaking in the gusty wind. From the corner of his eye, Jem spotted Cador gripping his own wrist, pressing the spots Jem had shown him.
Pleasure flushed him warmly, an odd feeling of accomplishment at the small aid he’d given. Still, it was no match for the wicked wind, colder than Jem had imagined possible. He hugged himself, his cloak far too thin. Soon, his teeth chattered.
Cador scowled. “Why are you doing that? Put up your hood. Where are your gloves?”
“I don’t have any.”
“For fuck’s sake,” he grumbled. “Why didn’t your people pack what was necessary?”
Jem thought of his books with a pang of longing. “Isn’t it supposed to be spring?”
“Soon. It comes later to the North.” He yanked at Jem’s hands, grasping them between his own and rubbing. “We’ll arrive at Rusk in an hour. Don’t want you to lose fingers in the meantime. Tas wouldn’t approve, and you’ll be even more useless.”
Jem couldn’t tamp down the sparks of pleasure from Cador’s rough ministrations.
He tried not to think about the fact that it was the most he’d ever been touched by another man he wasn’t related to.
Which was silly—they were standing on a ship with people milling around. This wasn’t that kind of touch.
His mind very helpfully conjured memories of the night in the valley, the Erghians bedding each other noisily out in the open with no shame.
He scoffed at himself. This was far from coupling, even if Cador’s hands sent spirals of heat not only through Jem’s chilled fingers but all the way to the tips of his cold toes, traveling through his groin.
Gods, Cador was so big and broad, towering over Jem, standing as close as they had at the altar.
He had full lips, and Jem peeked up at them through his lashes.
What would they feel like on Jem’s mouth?
How would they taste? What of Cador’s tongue?
Jem had dreamed of kissing a man like him—of being swept up in his burly arms, his mouth plundered, breathing in little gasps, tasting hungrily…
What was wrong with him? He didn’t even like this brute! Although… Cador was being kind now, warming Jem’s hands. But was he being kind? There was no reason whatsoever Jem should want to kiss him.
No reason to want to see a true, dimpled smile from him again. Jem must rein in his curiosity and remember he was on his own. He tugged his hands free and stumbled back. “Thank you! I’ll be fine!”
Cador shrugged and walked away, and Jem kept his hands balled in his cloak pockets as the voyage continued around the west of Ergh, the cliffs giving way to more rock that was slightly less terrifyingly sheer. The snow tapered off, although the wind remained icy.
The land eventually sloped closer to the level of the sea, these cliffs topped with mud and what had to be dead yellow grass that would hopefully turn green soon.
Huts and cottages appeared, a village revealing its edges. The island curved, providing a natural harbor, the ship angling toward the shore of black rocks. There was no beach to speak off, just inky black stones.
Perhaps they were stopping briefly in the village before continuing on their way to Rusk, which Delen had told him was the capital. She’d said there were villages scattered all over the island, but the chieftain had always lived in Rusk.
Cador returned to order, “Get my furs from below.”
“Are we stopping here?”
Cador frowned. “Of course. We’re here.”
“We’re where?” Jem glanced up at the stone huts.
“Rusk.”
“But…” Jem stood on tiptoes, craning his neck. “Where’s the castle?”
“Castle?” Jory repeated, appearing at Cador’s side. He laughed and shouted to the ship, “Prince Jowan wonders where the castle is!”
Jem shrank into his cloak as more laughter roared. He muttered, “I just assumed…”
Jory grinned. “This isn’t the mainland. No castles on Ergh. That’s not how we live.” He slapped Jem’s shoulder. “But if you make Cador love you, perhaps he’ll build you one. He’s a fine builder when he sets his mind to it.”
Jem shrugged away Jory’s hand with a violent twitch as Cador said, “Piss off!” without real heat. He and Jory left, laughing together.
If you make Cador love you.
Was such a thing even possible? Jem scoffed.
Even if so, it was the last thing he wanted.
When he returned home—the thought of Neuvella’s verdant warmth filling him with an awful yearning—he’d find a good, reasonable man for a lover.
Someone with whom he could share comfortable affection.
Companionship. Thrilling adventures and wild passion with a muscled man could stay on the pages of Jem’s books.