Chapter Twelve #3
“Oh, there are some who aren’t interested in fucking. But you seem keen. The way you and Cador stare, I thought you were having each other every spare moment.”
Jem gaped at him. “The way we… I admit I’m keen, as you put it. But Cador doesn’t want me.” The very idea was madness. Cador could surely have anyone he desired—he’d never want Jem .
Austol did the strangest thing—he burst out laughing. “Of course he does!”
Baffled, Jem tried to find the jest. It had to be a jest, but Austol looked utterly sincere. Perhaps this was more Erghian humor that Jem didn’t understand. “Cador doesn’t want me,” he repeated.
Austol was still laughing. “Then why is he jealous of any man who gets within reach of you?”
“Jealous? Cador?” This had to be a jest.
“You know how you feel when he’s with Jory? That’s jealousy, my friend. And he feels the same way.”
“But…” Jem couldn’t believe it. “I’m not jealous of Jory!” he insisted.
Austol rolled his eyes. “You say I’m the only one here who’s been kind to you, but hasn’t Jory tried? And haven’t you resisted for no good reason?”
He squirmed. “When you put it like that…”
“Trust me, Jory is no threat.” His smile faded. “But you and Cador haven’t fucked?”
Jem shook his head. “He said he’d rather bed a boar.”
Austol winced. “Then he’s a piss-head, not to mention a liar. He wants you. And why wouldn’t he? You’re smart and determined and beautiful.”
“I’m not. I’m far too small. I’m—”
“Whatever litany of faults you’re about to repeat, please don’t. Don’t tear yourself down. Trust me. Cador wants you. Even if he acts like a prick sometimes.”
“But…” Was it possible?
“Is it true he was drunk at your wedding?”
“Oh, don’t remind me. I thought him the foulest of barbarians. Such a beast. Yet…”
Austol smiled slyly. “Yet there’s some appeal in…beastliness, is there not?”
Face hot, Jem confessed in a whisper, “I am drawn to him. To the notion of being…taken by him. I can imagine…much.”
“I bet you can.” He grinned. “There’s no shame in it. Even if he’s a prick, he’s built for fantasies.”
The urge to defend Cador rose up unexpectedly. “He’s not always like that. He’s been surprisingly kind in many ways. At first, I thought him horrible, but not anymore. He can be crude and…” How much should Jem say? Could he truly trust Austol?
“Is ‘arrogant’ the word you’re searching for?”
He had to smile. “That fits the bill. Yet there’s another side to him.” Austol’s amused smirk stung. “There is .”
“I agree. Despite clearly acting like a childish arse sometimes, Cador is a good man. A worthy man. He’s nothing like his brother.
Cador or Delen would be far better leaders when the time comes.
” Austol shook his head. “But that’s a matter for the gods.
As for Cador saying he’d rather bed a boar, he’s full of it.
His foolish ego and stubborn pride are getting in the way, no doubt. I know desire when I see it.”
Jem’s heart leapt despite his denial. “It’s not possible.”
A smile tugged at Austol’s lips. “You should give him something to really be jealous of. That’ll teach him.”
“What? How?” Blood rushed in Jem’s ears. Was Austol right? Did Cador truly desire him? It wasn’t merely fanciful daydreams on Jem’s part? Daydreams he’d ruthlessly attempted to quell.
“Oh, it’ll be easy. It would be fun . I haven’t had fun in…too long.” Austol smiled quickly, but Jem saw the weary sadness in his eyes.
“Some fun would be welcome,” he said tentatively. “But I won’t do anything deceitful or hurtful.”
“No, nothing like that. Come back tomorrow for another lesson. That alone should do it.”
Jem scoffed. “I doubt it.”
“Right. Just like it wouldn’t bother you at all if Cador spent the day with Jory tomorrow.”
“I see your point,” he muttered. “Although I’m not convinced you’re right. Cador wanting me ? It’s as far-fetched as my favorite tales.” Jem was no Morvoren.
Austol shrugged. “Come for riding lessons regardless. No harm in it.” He looked to the barn door as a few children ran in, breathless and rosy-cheeked.
A girl with dark braids asked, “Can we visit with Eseld and read her a story?”
Austol sighed. “I’m sorry. Not today.”
The two girls whined their disappointment in matching tones while the boy’s shoulders hunched. All their bright-eyed enthusiasm had vanished, and Jem’s heart hurt for them. Eseld had to be Austol’s sister, and he wondered again what was amiss.
He asked, “Would you like me to tell you a story instead?”
Their heads swiveled to where Jem still sat on the bale of hay. Eyes wide, they shared a glance. Jem could practically read their thoughts and almost said, “ Yes, it’s me, the mysterious Southern prince. No, I won’t bite.”
Instead, he shrugged. “If you like, that is. I know many stories that should be new to you.” He lowered his voice conspiratorially. “None of them written by the clerics.”
The children shared another glance, then smiles bloomed over their faces. The braided girl said, “Yes, please.”
So Jem stayed on the bale, and the children sat by his feet in their practical leather trousers and tunics. Austol made tea for everyone, offering ginger cookies as Jem recounted Morvoren’s first grand adventure—minus the detailed sex she enjoyed with her huge-cocked merman lover.
Austol listened as he half-heartedly worked, laughing along with the children at all the right parts.
It was lovely to make them laugh, and Jem felt satisfied in a way he couldn’t quite explain.
He happily agreed to tell more stories the next day.
After the slap of Austol’s rejection—even if he understood the reason—it felt wonderful to be wanted.
Later, as he followed the trail back to Cador’s cottage, his mind spun with the question of Cador’s desire or lack thereof. He ran through a cycle of disbelief followed by cautious hope, then thrilling anticipation before returning to disbelief.
Could Cador truly desire him? Austol had been so certain. Of course Jem barely knew Austol. Perhaps the man was often mistaken.
Perhaps not.
Darkness was still an hour off, but the shadows grew deep as he walked the path of dirt and rocks and roots, all dusted with pine needles.
Jem couldn’t raise his hopes. He knew the bitter disappointment that would follow.
To be rejected a third time would devastate him.
This was why he’d buried himself in the safety of books—Morvoren never let him down.
Around a bend, a horse whinnied. Jem jerked to a halt, his throat going dry. Did Bryok lie in wait? Surely not. He would charge forward and trample Jem if he chose, not sneak around. Still, Jem tiptoed onward, heart thumping as he peeked around the trees.
He exhaled in a rush. Cador sat atop Massen, worn leather stretching over his thighs and across his shoulders.
Safe.
They stared at each other, Jem hardly able to breathe.
Cador cleared his throat. “The path is deceiving here. See? It looks like it could go right or left. It’s left.”
“Oh.” Jem tore his gaze from Cador and examined the path before him.
He hadn’t noticed the first time they’d galloped past, and going into Rusk there was no reason to glance back.
“Yes. It is deceiving.” It truly did appear to be a fork in the route.
He would have surely stopped in his tracks and agonized over which way to go.
“If you get lost, I’ll have to waste hours finding you,” Cador grumbled. “If the Neuvellan prince dies on my watch, my father will be furious.”
Jem nodded and found he wanted to smile. He wanted to grin . Cador had waited for him so Jem wouldn’t get lost. Cador had worried for him earlier. Could Austol be right? The sting of rejection gave way to a warm flicker of hope even as Jem reminded himself not to get carried away.
“Now you know. Go to the left.” With that, Cador spurred Massen and disappeared down the path without offering Jem a ride.
But he didn’t mind the walk at all. The cottage wasn’t far, and his steps were lighter.