I’m going to ring his sinewy little... er big neck. How could he! How dare...
Sera stopped short of her last thought, frozen with the reality that swept over her.
Oh god.
She wasn’t pissed.
She was flattered.
Damn him. Damn him and the edict he rode in on!
Sera guardedly pushed to a sit and cringed as she slid her feet to the floor. Her feet were bare, and sank into the plush carpet beneath them. It was an elegant floor covering, a deep beige color, with an ivy leaf pattern. If nothing else, Jerad certainly had refined tastes.
Sera moved across the chamber. The garment she wore was thin on her body, a white, long sleeved robe of crinkled cotton that laced up at the front. It gently molded her form from the shoulders to a drop vee waistline and swept lightly around her legs with long slits that revealed her thighs as she walked. She did not want to think about who had dressed her.
She passed through an arch opening about five feet across after pushing aside a long lambrequin. It was held in place by brass, floral sconces, and designed to cover the entire doorway. She was immediately bathed in the soft blue hue and penetrating warmth of a crukis skylight, encased in a ceiling that slanted toward an exterior wall. The outer room was spacious but sparsely furnished. In the center of the floor, there was a backless sofa with angled arm rests. A small table rested between one end of it and an oversized, cushioned chair. The floor was marble with a parquetry design, but was tepid to the touch, instead of cool.
A massive set of bookshelves that spanned the wall opposite from where she stood caught her attention. An impressive collection of literature crammed the shelves. Whatever answers she could not obtain from Jerad could surely be found within the pages of those books. Hopefully, she would be able to interpret them.
She leaned against a wall and observed the figure seated in a leather arm chair in front of an escritoire. She recaptured her anger.
Jerad was studying a clump of dried, purplish leaves, unaware of her presence in the room. He sniffed a handful. Then he picked up a quill and began to scrawl notes on a sheet of parchment. A white glimmer orb encased in metal caging, supported by a posted stand, provided him with the light to write.
"Plotting the demise of your next victim?" she paused for effect. "Or determining how you are going to fix them after you cut them up."
He looked toward her. His pensive expression softened. The sarcasm in Sera’s voice should have been bitter to his ears, but instead, Jerad was relieved. Her voice was like honey and cinnamon, layered on a warm slice of bread, sweet, with a hint of spice. It set a blaze in his heart and lifted his spirits.
For two rises he was vigilant, silently begging the Origins for her recovery and beseeching them for mercy from her ire when she did awaken. Although, he would gladly face her hostility in lieu of the lifeless body he carried from the Grandstage. His gut retched. It was pointedly obvious that Sera did not have the skill to fight in that manner. He recalled the sound of tearing flesh and the smell of her blood saturating the air. Sondra nearly killed her. Death would have instantly fallen on Sera, if Sondra had not stumbled, as she lunged and swiped at Sera’s belly. He watched helplessly as Sera’s clothing stained red, and how her hand pressed against her flesh turned crimson. He damned the Oneroi, and fought to restrain himself from interceding, knowing that if he were to halt the Challenge he would be conceding to wed Sondra. Jerad would not lose Sera. He trusted the Edict and allowed it to continue.
In the quarters following the Challenge, Jerad sustained Sera’s slumberous condition with his herbal concoctions, to spare her pain. Slowly, he eased the doses to bring her conscious awareness closer to the surface. It would hasten her recovery if she could move about, and get proper nourishment, but she was weak. Every time he lifted her to sit, she would slump helplessly in his arms. He coaxed water and thickened bullion down her throat when she was barely awake, applied poultice to her wound, and cleansed her perspiring skin, while she slept. Jerad spent restless, endless quarters tending to her needs, and pacing the floor when she had none. At times he placed his ear to her chest to listen to her heart, his face near hers to feel her breath, pressed his lips against her forehead to feel the warmth of her skin. All in an attempt to satisfy his need to be close to her--to affirm that she still lived.
He even brushed her hair.
Finally, he retreated to his journals, hoping that examining a few herbs would ease his tension, but it was a vacant attempt at distraction.
Jerad swiveled in the chair and leaned back. "Ah Sera, you are finally awake."
Sera studied him with quiet resolve. Jerad looked relaxed and content in his own element. The color had returned to his face and he was cleanly shaven. His copper hair hung neatly about his shoulders. He wore tan, suede trousers that were buttoned closed. They were tucked into well polished, black boots, and nicely hugged his thighs and hips. His shirt and vest were open at the front. The laceration under the right side of his ribs, still swollen, had been neatly sewn shut with a running stitch. Other than the dark circles under his eyes, he seemed none the worse for the wear.
He shifted in the chair and then pushed himself to a stand. His dark eyes wandered the length of her body. She was thinner and her face was drawn, but she was alive and would be well again.
As he approached, Sera felt the same allure that consumed her in the arena. It was as though she was bidding him toward her with a hushed urgency to have him near. It was unsettling.
He gently placed his hands on her waist, pressing her to his body. It caused a quickening in her belly that could only be described as yearning. The feel of him holding her was undeniably pleasant.
Not quite the perturbed reaction she was aiming for.
Her anger dissolved. She felt safe in his arms, wanting only to yield to the sincerity of his embrace. She was bemused by the contradiction of emotions that should have her seething at the man--most of her misery was his doing, but Jerad was unadulterated male, daunting and forbidding, yet kind hearted and caring. He stirred feelings in her that she could not readily identify or control.
Sera tipped her head back to look up at him as he bent to bring his cheek to hers. His breath was warm against the skin of her neck. She closed her eyes succumbing to the intimation that she was designed to be there.
"I have been beleaguered with worry for you."
He moved his arms to her back and pressed her harder against him. She tried to ignore it, but the ache in her side intensified. She recoiled with piercing pain as he squeezed her tighter. It was a sharp reminder of what she had done.
"I’m a murderer," she cried in a low aching voice as she grabbed her side.
Jerad grimaced and scooped her into his arms. She moaned with the sudden movement. He carried her to the bedroom, and placed her on the bed. Sera rolled into a fetal position, and whimpered.
Jerad crossed the room squatting in front of a low, ivory colored cabinet and opened the doors. It contained a number of glass vials and small, lidded crocks. He removed two items and went to Sera, placing the small vessels on a stand next to the bed. He sat on the edge of the bed and rolled Sera to her back. Tears escaped from the corners of her eyes. Jerad pulled the bed covering up to her hips, and began to untie her gown.
Sera reached for her body realizing that she was wearing nothing beneath the robe, but Jerad respected her modesty by keeping her breasts covered. She fingered the large bandage that covered her wound. Jerad took her hands and placed them at her sides. He removed the dressing, and glanced at her face. She was pallid and his concern returned. She should not have gotten out of bed. She needed more rest. One more luna. He would give her only a small dose of the sedative.
"What are you giving me, Jerad?" Her voice was scarcely above a whisper.
"The powder is saffron, for the pain and the bergamot drops will relax you."
"Herbs?"
Jerad pulled a cork from one vial and began to sprinkle the contents along Ser
a’s wound. She felt instant numbness in the area.
"Tomas told us of your medicines. Our plants equal, some even surpass their effectiveness."
The next vial contained a liquid, which he drew into a small dropper.
"Inhale." Jerad placed the drops in her nostrils. Sera did as she was told, thankful that this land was not as archaic as she anticipated. Yet, there was nothing that could be done to save Sondra. Sera had unintentionally seen to that. Sera’s bottom lip quivered and she began to cry. Jerad tenderly wiped her tears away with his thumbs.
"You bid to me a great honor in the Grandstage."
"I am a murderer," Sera sobbed with heavy heartedness.
"It is the way of things, Starbird."
Jerad moved onto the bed and pulled her into his arms. He covered them both with the quilt, and Sera drifted to sleep.
When she awoke again later, the first thing she noticed was the emptiness. She was no longer in Jerad’s arms. Her blurred vision quickly cleared. The room was brightly lit with the rise. Sera sat up with little difficulty, other than the pulling of muscles, stiff from lack of exercise. There was some feeling of discomfort from her wound but it was tolerable. Jerad was asleep in the chaise at the corner of the room. One of his legs was stretched along the cushion. The other was bent with his foot resting on the floor. He was fully dressed. An open book was face down across his lap. Sera tilted her head to read the title scrawled on the cover, but she had difficulty deciphering the Greek letters from their upside down position. Her attention wandered to his right hand, which rested on his thigh. It was wrapped in a cloth identical to Sera’s. She fingered the cloth on her own left hand.
"Conjugal clothes." Jerad had awakened and was watching her. He rose from the chair and sat next to her. He clasped her left hand into both of his. "Worn for five rises until the wounds are sufficiently healed, and the Marks of Permanence can be safely rendered."
Sera avoided asking him what that meant, leery that she would not like the answer, relenting to the idea that what she didn’t know, couldn’t annoy her.
On the far side of the room, an iridescent play of light caught her attention. An elegant crystal sculpture sat upon a table placed in the niche of a large bay shaped window. Sera stood, crossed the room, and moved closer to better examine the grouping of prisms. There were six connected pyramidal structures of various sizes. The design intrigued her. There was something familiar about it.
"Poli omorfos, ne?" Jerad followed to stand directly behind her.
"Yes, very beautiful."
"It is the spectrocorde, Starbird, the Key to Orion’s belt."
"Oh, I see. So this is the infamous key. Isn’t this what you wagered to gain the First Kingdom?"
"Nai--yes. It was a daring bargain, but if I had died, Shegarth would still have fought to protect it."
"Why would you risk losing the very item essential to the Edict you so believe in?"
"Vengeance can sometimes be a foolhardy thing, but it was the only thing Zoren would accept. Once I disclosed to him that I had the key, he nearly frothed at the mouth with the thought of gaining ownership of it. I waited until Zoren was ordained ruler of the First Kingdom with the intention of stripping the land from him. His death would be the ultimate prize."
He took hold of her wrists. "Let me show you, what I know of it."
Jerad passed one of her palms through the rays where the light of the rise arced through the beveled glass. It emitted a spectrum of brilliant colors and compelling musical sounds that caused Sera to gasp with a captivated delight. Then Jerad released her, and played a chord of notes, stroking the rays like the strings of a harp. A melancholy, yet hauntingly romantic melody trickled to her eardrums and floated into her brain until it was firmly entrenched in her mind.
Sera began to sway, her heart beat in cadence with her breathing as the euphoric aria captured and devoured her senses.
"Oh," she exhaled with a mesmerized whisper.
Jerad ceased playing. The sudden silence caused Sera to waver and she startled from her trance.
"I have the same response to it, Starbird," Jerad caught her against him. "My mother taught me the tune when I was very young. We played it quite often."
"Where did it come from?"
"I only know that it was created during the ritual of Eleusinian on Gaia."
Jerad told her it was written in the Protogio Principles. The esoteric event hosted by Demeter, was shrouded in mystery. Participants were forbidden to speak about it, but there was rumor that it involved moving from one world to the next. Most believed it was from life to death, but that was never proven. It was said that during one particular ritual, Artemis, who was in attendance, sought the means to protect her beloved Orion from imminent death by the scorpion. The Oneroi were also present. A pact was struck to ensure safe passage of the Origins when it was determined that their existence on Gaia was no longer beneficial. When the celebrations were over, the Edict of Oneroi had been proclaimed and Demeter was in possession of what became known as the Key to Orion’s belt. With her permission, Demeter’s handmaidens charmed it with the music and she declared the intentions of the Eleusinian complete. The details of the covenant were concealed.
"Most here think the sculpture is merely a unique piece of artwork. That it is, in reality, the Key to Orion’s belt is known only to a sect of loyals, who have been ordained to protect it, even if the consequence is the spilling of their blood."
"But how did your family end up with it?"
"Demeter is an Origin of the Second Corridor in the Tenth Zone. She bequeathed the Key to the eldest offspring in her bloodline with the instruction that it should continue to be passed through each generation in this manner. My mother was the first born through the line, as am I."
"But you are a descendant of Antheia."
"Nai, Sera. Through my father. Offspring claim paternal bloodlines."
Jerad further explained that the sculpture, which was hundreds of centenaries old, came to be called the spectrocorde by one of his mother’s ancestors. It was made to resemble the shape of the Mountains of Eksaf ‘anise, located at the setway boundaries between the Fourth and the Seventh Zones, very close to where he found Sera. The Origins claimed these mountains as their place of transience. On Gaia it was referred to as Io’s Curse of the Tombs. Many believe that the Origins passed from Gaia to Protogio by way of Eksaf, but how it was done was never determined.
"Could I have passed through that way?" Sera was beginning to believe that her visions of a spacecraft were just that, the workings of her imagination. In fact, the harder she tried to remember her landing on Protogio, the fainter the image of a ship crashing became, and a recollection of rushing toward the ground through open air was becoming stronger.
"I think it is highly likely you came here by way of Eksaf."
"But how?"
Jerad twisted Sera around to face him. "I could not say. It is meant to be revealed by the Ptino asteri. It is why I believe you were sent, Starbird. Through you, the mystery of the Key and its significance to Eksaf and the Edict will be revealed."
"What about the explosion? My ship..."
"Shatter arrows. They are a new-fashioned and markedly dangerous weapon, recently designed by our foes. I watched the warriors from the Fourth Zone shoot one into a bovine. Its flesh was shredded. There was also a large eruption of flames after an arrow was lodged in the side of a barrel that likely contained a blasting mixture. Their preoccupation with the weapon was probably the reason they did not notice you when you fell."
Sera looked over her shoulder and studied the sculpture, searching her brain for even a hint that she possessed knowledge of it, but there was none. She suddenly felt as though a heavy burden had been dropped on her shoulders. If she could not summon even an inkling of knowledge about anything Jerad told her concerning the Key to Orion’s belt and the Edict of Oneroi, how was she suppose to know what to do with it? She did not like being relied on for a task as monumental as this se
emed to be to Jerad’s people.
"I think you put too much relevance on my connection to it," Sera stepped back from him, "and to you."
Jerad reached out and took her hands into his, looking down to where their conjugal clothes touched. "Perhaps, but I think the passing of time will be its revelation."
He released one of her hands and led her to the outer living quarters. The spicy scent of cinnamon filled the room. Sera located the source. On the table, between the couch and chair, a tea candle heated a potpourri bowl. Sera inhaled, savoring the scent.
"The scent of zeylanic pleases you?"
Sera’s stomach gurgled. She smirked and lowered her head.
"Hungry?"
Sera nodded, and then jumped as Jerad lightly squeeze her ribcage. "Good. You have barely eaten for three rises and you are feeling a bit bony."
There was a knock at the door. Jerad bid the caller to enter. The door opened and a cart with covered platters was wheeled into the room. Jerad motioned the attendant toward the outside terrace. He took Sera’s hand again and led her through the double doors to the garden.
Chapter Eight
The garden was a plush oasis of flora and greenery girdled by a rocky wall that ascended to about forty feet, high enough to allow privacy. Cascading water fell over one side of a ledge, pooling into a crystal clear, flagstone natatorium. There were hanging herbs and dwarf fruit trees, an unstinted variety of fragrant blossoms, and tall, wispy plants that tossed back and forth in the breeze. The blending of colors and scents, combined with the sound of the flowing water, created a tranquil and soothing atmosphere. The garden was a quiet, peaceful sanctuary.
Jerad led Sera to the privy, discreetly hidden behind a rock wall barrier and tall foliage. There were two basins. Both had water flowing through them, and were made of stone. The lower one served as a commode, the other was smaller and higher. It was used as a sink. There was a stack of folded towels and wiping cloths on a stone ledge just above the wash bowl. Jerad handed a couple of them to Sera. He showed her a dish of coriander paste, and produced a wooden toothbrush with stiff bristles, for her use, after breakfast. Sera accepted the amenities from him, glad that she wouldn’t have to forgo proper hygiene. Then it dawned on her. How had she been relieving herself while she was bedridden?
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