Chapter Nine #2
There was something about having Ergh under his boots, the mint of evergreen needles filling his nose, smoke curling into the darkening sky from the chimney he’d built.
Here in his clearing, on his little corner of the land, he didn’t have to represent Tas or worry about what Bryok thought, or do anything except be.
Yet now Jem was here in Cador’s sanctuary. With his ridiculous name and stupidly pretty face. His dark curls that looked so wonderfully soft. He was real. He was inside Cador’s cottage, by his fire, trying to save doomed little lumps of bird with quiet determination.
Cador was not returning to life as he’d always known it. Would he ever reclaim it, or was it gone forever? Would war be the answer? What if they were asking the wrong questions?
The wind rustled thick boughs, and Cador drew his cloak tighter. He felt scraped raw for no good reason. Jem’s fate shouldn’t be of any consequence. One prince didn’t matter compared to Ergh’s children. Ergh’s very future.
Thoughts of his poor nephew, Hedrok, invaded his mind instead. Cador inhaled sharply against the surge of nausea. He couldn’t fix Hedrok no matter how hard he’d tried, and now it hurt too deeply to even think of him, let alone see him.
Cador knew he was the worst kind of coward, but he tamped down the guilt yet again and locked it away. Marrying Jem was what Cador could do for his nephew. What became of Jem when the war was over was of no consequence.
Sloshing more water out of the bucket, he marched back to the cottage. Enough foolishness. Inside, Jem still sat on the hearth, watching his bundle. He barely spared Cador a glance.
Cador decided to ignore him, yet a minute later demanded, “Well?”
Jem looked up. “They ate. If they live to morning, they should survive.”
Cador was oddly relieved. It made no sense—the askells didn’t provide him food or bear him around Ergh as Massen did.
There was no reason to waste time nursing them.
He’d have ended their suffering quickly with one blow, but now they were here in his cottage, which hadn’t had this many occupants in… ever.
Standing, Jem stretched his arms over his head. His lithe body arched, breeches clinging to his tight arse. Cador poured the bucket into a pitcher on the battered table near the fire, cursing as he spilled it.
“So, this is your home?” Jem asked. “It’s cozy.”
Cador’s hackles rose as he sopped up the water with a rag. He imagined the windowless cottage through Jem’s eyes: a large wood-framed bed with a proper hard mattress, fireplace, table and chairs, pantry, chests holding his clothing and a pile of furs. It was plain, but he had no need for fanciness.
“We all can’t live in a castle, your highness. Don’t want to.”
“No, of course not.” After a silence, Jem noted, “There are few decorations. No tapestries in Ergh?”
“Not many.” Cador wanted to point out the pinecones scattered on the mantel. What was that if not decoration?
Jem tentatively neared the spears lining the rough stone by the timber door as if they might leap off the wall and impale him. Cador had left his sword sheathed there. Bearing their swords on the mainland had been strategic, but he far preferred his spears.
“I suppose this is your art,” Jem said, examining the various spears.
Cador had to laugh, the emotion unwelcome yet undeniable. “Suppose so.”
Jem seemed about to say something else, but then his spine snapped straight, his gaze darting around. “There’s only one bed.”
Fuck.
It was true. Cador’s bed wasn’t feathery like the ones at the Holy Place, but it was a long and wide pallet, giving him room to sprawl. It was plenty of room for two—although Cador had rarely welcomed anyone there for long. Jem looked as though he’d rather sleep with a sarf.
Cador shrugged. “I only need one.” At Jem’s troubled gaze, he rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t fuck you if you were the last person on Ergh. I’d bugger a boar first.”
Jem smiled thinly, crossing his arms. “How reassuring. I’ll sleep on the hearth regardless. I need to keep watch over the hatchlings.”
“Suit yourself.” Maybe they should imprison Jem after all. Cador would be tripping over him for months.
He irritably went about the rest of his chores before serving up smoked boar meat from the pantry with dried berries and ale.
Tomorrow he’d hunt and replenish his pantry in Rusk.
Jem thanked him for the food and picked at it, watching over the birds.
They’d quieted, and Cador wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or bad. He didn’t allow himself to ask.
Jem’s gaze still darted to Cador and the bed every so often. Was it only nerves? He tried to imagine being a virgin at twenty years. He would have been desperate for a fuck. To plunge into someone else’s body, or be taken himself. Desperate for the sweat and grunting and release.
He examined the curve of Jem’s bent head, curls tumbling over his forehead where he knelt by the nest. Cador could imagine palming his head, tangling his fingers in that glossy hair as he eased him forward to his hands and knees…
What kind of cries could he earn from Jem as he pushed into the tight sheath of his body? Would Jem be bold when he had Cador’s cock inside him? Would he merely whimper and be taken, or would he beg for more? Not that it was of any real interest.
As Jem reached for his cup of water, his breeches stretched over the swell of his arse. “Do you wish to bathe?” Cador found himself asking. It wasn’t because he wanted to see Jem naked. He was merely being welcoming.
That got Jem’s attention. “May I?” He glanced around. “Where?” He gave a little half laugh and grimace. “I confess that I’m accustomed to servants heating the water and filling my tub.”
“I’m sure you are.” Cador had to admit that didn’t sound terrible.
He went to the corner beyond the hearth where a small wooden tub sat and dragged it closer to the fire.
Hauling in the buckets of water to heat over the flames didn’t take long, and soon the tub was half full and Cador was unwrapping a square of soap.
Jem took the offered soap hesitantly, his gaze flicking back to the tub. “It’s…smaller than I’ve seen? How do you…?”
Small? How did they bathe on the mainland?
Why would a tub be bigger? Puzzled, Cador stripped off his clothes and stepped into the hot water, which rose around his shins.
He bent to scoop the water over his body with a cloth, squeezing the deliciously hot liquid over his head and shoulders and soaping his skin.
“You see?” he asked Jem. Did the boy need to be taught everything?
Jem made an odd little squeak. When Cador looked to him, Jem nodded so hard his head might fly off his neck. Frowning, Cador asked, “What’s the matter with you?”
“Nothing!” Jem seemed to be looking everywhere but at Cador.
“There’s another cloth in the chest over there.” Cador finished scrubbing and rinsing, then stepped out. Still naked, he dripped water all over the floor, but it would dry. He held out the soap to Jem.
With shaky fingers, Jem plucked the soap from Cador’s hand and then stood rooted to the spot, staring at the tub.
“Was the method not clear?” Did Jem expect him to fetch fresh water and go through the whole process again? That was madness.
“No, it was clear. Very clear. I just…” Jem screwed up his face. “Can you please look away?”
“From what?”
He sighed in a rush. “From me! Taking off my clothes!”
“Why?” Cador motioned to himself. “I’m not wearing any.”
“I noticed!” Jem shook his head. “Not that I was looking or trying to notice.”
Cador had to laugh. “Why are you tied into knots about something this ordinary?” He made a show of turning his back. “There you go. I won’t look.”
“Thank you,” Jem mumbled.
True to his word, Cador didn’t so much as peek.
He had no interest in the slim form of a spoiled prince who couldn’t even ride a horse.
He stood waiting although he should have gone about any remaining chores.
His damp skin dried, gooseflesh rippling over his body despite the fire’s warmth behind him.
With his back to the hearth, he could hear the splash of water and imagine Jem soaping, the gray suds pale on his brown skin as he bent and lathered his limbs.
Water surely trickled down his chest. Did it catch on his nipples?
How much hair grew there? If Jem rubbed the cloth over his skin, would his nipples peak?
A minute ticked by. Then another. Cador stood rooted to the spot, listening. He imagined the drag of the soapy material over Jem’s prick and behind to his arse. Over those round, perfect cheeks. Between them…
Water shushed and a log cracked in the fireplace. If Cador turned, Jem would be in reach. If he…
“I’m finished,” Jem whispered. “Thank you.”
Cador shook himself, turning to find Jem dressed again in his silky shirt that fell to mid-thigh. Standing before the fire’s blaze, his body was outlined in the light fabric. His hair was damp, the curls sticking out, and Cador was struck by the mad urge to step close and smooth them down.
“Why are you wearing that?” he asked too loudly.
Jem frowned. “What?”
“You sleep in that garment?”
“Oh.” Jem glanced down at the silky material, his body still outlined clearly by the fire. “Not usually, but it’s quite similar to my nightshirts.” He squirmed, tugging at the hem. “Not as long, but it will have to do. Well… Goodnight.”
Cador grunted and turned away. Even their nightclothes were impractical. It would give no warmth. Why not just sleep naked? Speaking of which, it was time to enjoy his own bed after so long away.
He stretched out under his furs. In the dead of winter, he had to wear layers to keep warm, but though spring was late, it was warm enough for him. He’d always loved sleeping naked and free.
Glancing over to the fire, Cador caught Jem’s stare before the boy whipped his head toward the flames.
Although he sat on the hearth, he still crossed his arms tightly.
He was so delicate he’d likely freeze even an arm’s length from the blaze.
The last thing Cador needed was to be kept awake by chattering teeth.
Besides, the stone hearth was not a comfortable place to sleep the night. Grumbling, he threw back his coverings. Jem watched with wide eyes as Cador crossed to him and spread out two of the thick furs from his bed on the hearth.
“From the blonek in the north,” Cador said, needing to fill the silence. He crouched, stroking his palm over the soft, light brown fur. “The animals are rare now, so these pelts are special. Should be plush enough for your tastes.”
Jem’s eyes were locked on the orange flames. “Uh-huh! Thank you!”
Cador stood, scratching his chest. “Are you well?”
Jem nodded, not looking away from the fire, his knees to his chest and arms locked around them.
Cador shrugged and grabbed one of the pillows from his bed.
They were stuffed with straw instead of feathers but would be better than the stone hearth.
He liked two, but placed one on the furs by the fire.
“You’re free to sleep in the bed. As I said, your virtue is quite safe with me.”
“Thank you,” Jem replied stiffly. “I’ll sleep here.”
Cador certainly wasn’t going to beg him to take up half of his bed—not that he would, being so slim. Jem would surely fit right in the curve of his arm or curled back against his chest…
Shaking his head, Cador climbed back under his remaining fur. He closed his eyes and willed himself to think only of the morning’s hunt and not beyond, pretending he was alone, and his life was as it had always been.