"Ochi! You will finish this Aryan!" A woman in the bleachers narrowed her eyes at him and snarled.
"Mother! Sondra’s arrogance was her downfall. You know as well as I that Sera had no choice but to defend herself."
With his arms still outspread Aryan faced the Magistrate Council, and in a voice loud enough for all to hear, he bellowed, "I loved my sister as I do my clan, but Sondra would have indeed killed Sera. The Death Challenge against my Noble friend was unjustly granted. Further I relinquish any claims to injustice and request that the Noble Chancellor Jerad and his consort be exonerated."
Shegarth stood and faced the Magistrate Council. "Is all agreed?"
The member’s of the Council solidly responded with Nai.
Aryan’s mother could not contain her fury. She shrieked and leapt from the benches. With dagger in hand, she lunged at Jerad. Aryan blocked her way and easily subdued her. He carried her from the Grandstage as she kicked and screamed. A string of curses spewed from her mouth. Aryan would return her to the Second Corridor where the rest of his clan would retain her until her anger subsided and she would listen to reason. There would be no further retaliation. His mother knew this, and he knew his mother well. She would eventually accept the truth, her anger would turn to grief for the loss of her daughter, and she would, in due time, heal from this unfortunate ordeal.
Sera watched as Jerad stalked toward her. Unlike the crowd, Jerad was not affected by the spectacle that had just taken place. His eyes were narrowed and he looked angry.
"Pfft! Now you decide to come to me! I risk my life for you woman and you have not even the deference to be at my side?"
Sera opened her mouth but he pivoted away from her and stormed off. She ran after him, and Mekal followed them.
"Jerad!" Sera caught him at the top of the hillside just outside of the Grandstage. He turned to face her.
"If I had been splayed open in front of these witnesses, would you have cried?"
Again Sera opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
"I think not!" Jerad’s eyes shifted and he snarled at Mekal. "I see whose company you prefer."
Sera was distraught and confused. She wanted to reclaim her past, yet didn’t care if her memories ever returned. She wanted her people to rescue her, yet she wanted to stay with Jerad. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and embrace him. She wanted to run. What she did was nothing, except stare numbly as Jerad walked away.
Sera turned to look at Mekal and groaned as she noticed a large crowd of citizens gathering at the bottom of the hill. They were staid by a number of sentries who stood in line in front of them. A cheer went up as Sera scanned the crowd, a mix of Nobles and the hoi polloi, and every one of them fell to their knees in praise of her.
Sera rubbed her forehead wearily. "Word travels fast in these parts."
Mesari approached, followed by Phoebe.
"Come Sera! Come! We have much to do!" Mesari reached for Sera’s arm. A sentry stepped between them. Mekal waved him away.
"W-what?" Sera was feeling quite dazed with all that was happening.
"The Marks of Permanence! It is already past quarter set. We have less than four quarters to ready you for the ceremony."
Sera’s head bolted upright.
Jerad was angry with her. Would he still take the Marks? Would he forgive her for hurting him if she took the Marks? Could she still go through with it? Yes, she confirmed solidly. She would and wanted to with all of her heart.
Chapter Twenty
Jerad was stupefied and skeptical when Mekal advised him that the women were preparing Sera for the ceremony.
He was elated.
He would not be elated!
Then he saw her. Sera was stunning. She wore his colours, a lavender gown of luxurious velvet, in two pieces so that her belly showed.
Jerad inhaled sharply.
The things his tongue could do to that navel of hers.
He exhaled a slow lingering breath.
The waist of the skirt was braided in the blue azure of his Zone. It hugged her hips then gently flared to sweep the floor, longer in the back than in the front. The material outlined her thighs...
He closed his eyes, imagining her luscious thighs wrapped around him.
The short-cropped bodice had long, campanulate sleeves and was tied together in a knot between the hollow of her breasts, giving him a tantalizing view of their rounded shape, as the material molded perfectly around them.
Jerad sighed a quiet groan, working that knot free, in his mind’s eye--with his teeth.
Sera came to stand beside him. Her hair was beautifully woven with lavender buds, obviously the handiwork of Phoebe. A hint of patchouli teased his nostrils, a soothing aroma that was alluringly sensual, obviously Ezra’s doing, as she knew how much he enjoyed the scent.
She looked like a tempting enchantress from a faraway land, and he adored her.
He stiffened as she met him with beckoning eyes.
Lust, nothing more, he tenaciously reminded himself.
The material felt sumptuous against Sera’s skin. The top barely covered her chest and was cut short enough to reveal the scar from Sondra’s blade. She did not care. Sera felt sensuous and feminine. She knew the appreciative eyes of the guests followed her as she moved through the hall, but there was only one man who captured her interest.
Jerad was exceedingly handsome in his wedding regalia. He wore an azure, velveteen hip-length, doublet. It was studded in silver and had rolled epaulet pads twined in lavender cording that emphasized his broad shoulders. A black leather belt sheathed his sword and rested neatly on his lean, masculine hips. His tight, black leather trousers and sleek, thigh high boots sent a delightful tremble through her.
Was he still angry?
Sera saw the flicker of passion when his gaze fell upon her, and with it came the hope that he still wanted her, but then his countenance abruptly changed.
They stood before Shegarth, who would lead the ceremony. Shegarth’s eyes darted between Jerad and Sera. By the looks of his son, one would think he had been throttled and dragged to the chantry to be sacrificed, and Sera looked like she had lost her dearest friend.
Shegarth shook his head.
What senseless misfortune comes from hearts in denial.
Well, at least they had both come forth. He feared that one would show without the other, making for a most embarrassing situation.
He turned his attention to the guests and spoke loudly. "Once again I implore, will there be any protest to the Vows between the Noble Jerad and the Noble Sera?"
There was no objection heard from the Nobles in the hall.
"Very good." He clapped his hands together. "Then let’s proceed, shall we?"
Shegarth held out his hand. Sera knew what to do. Mesari acquainted Sera with the aspects of the Marks of Permanence. It was the reason Phoebe presently stood to Sera’s right. Sera thought it more than appropriate to choose Jerad’s sister as her paranymph. Jerad stood to Sera’s left, and Mekal was on Jerad’s other side. Sera assumed that Mekal was chosen to be Jerad’s groomsman. Sera was also told that Mekal was the artisan who would ply the Marks of Permanence.
Sera placed her left hand in Shegarth’s palm. Shegarth untied the conjugal cloth and removed it. He draped it over his wrist. He then extended his palm toward Jerad.
Jerad’s eyes riveted downward and he hesitated. Sera held her breath and waited for what seemed like an eternity, and released it slowly when Jerad finally responded.
Shegarth took the ends of the conjugal cloths and in symbolic gesture tied them together. He held them up for the witnesses to see.
"Join hands, children."
Jerad did not move.
Shegarth shot an irritated look toward his son. He picked up Jerad’s hand and slapped it into Sera’s. Jerad’s fingers reflexively closed around Sera’s hand. He shifted slightly as the warmth from her flesh and a sense of comfort surged through him. Their thorn marks touched, flesh to flesh,
for the first time since receiving them. Jerad resisted the temptation to cast his gaze toward Sera. He desperately wanted to see her face, but felt it better to remain detached. He would not allow her to scathe his honor again.
"Jerad and Sera, do you swear to the Council and all here that witness, to accept the Marks of Permanence of your own accord?"
Jerad nodded reluctantly.
Sera shifted beside him and held up her free hand. "Wait."
Jerad squeezed the hand he was holding, applying a steady, increasing pressure, threatening to break her bones if she humiliated him now.
"You’re hurting me," She mumbled.
He loosened his grip and glowered at her.
What was she up to?
Sera turned to completely face Jerad.
She untwined her fingers from Jerad’s hand and pressed her palm against his. She took a deep breath. Her golden eyes lifted to meet his dark, brooding stare. "My loyalty for your trust, my strength for your honor…"
Jerad’s heart beat erratically when Sera began to speak.
"…Mind nurtures heart and flesh becomes one…"
His anger began to melt away.
"…Wherever you go I shall follow. Meaningless is one life without the other. My blood with your blood, Jerad."
Her words deeply enraptured him, and she was here to take his Marks.
To cover her ugly scars.
Those words bit hard, supplanting the vows she now spoke. He responded by turning away.
Sera bit her lip. A stinging in her nose and a tightness in her chest seeped through her. He was shunning her. It was a painful reality check.
Don’t cry! Don’t cry! Don’t cry!
She swallowed it away.
At least Shegarth seemed pleased with her. He smiled at Sera amiably as he motioned for them to sit down. "Well done, Sera."
To Jerad, he flashed a frosty, sidelong glare.
Jerad strode to a bench. Sera followed. He poured wine from a flask and offered it to Sera. As if of their own determination, his eyes flickered to her face. He watched her take a sip.
She had such a lovely mouth.
He took a hard gulp from his goblet, reining the urgent stirring that crept through his loins.
The Marks mean nothing to her.
Mekal sat on a small stool in front of them. Phoebe sat to the side. Mekal rummaged through his dray of art reserve and prepared to administer his craft. He had already formed a picture of the workmanship that he would permanently enchase upon their skin. A steady hand would be required to manage the intricate design he intended for the Marks of Permanence. With Jerad being a Noble Chancellor, and Sera being of Gaian Origins, it would only be fitting that the consort markings be an aesthetically perfect piece of artwork demanding of the Nobles’ status. He would commit these marks with great pride.
Mekal began with the Challenge scar under Sera’s rib, etching woven green vines, tiny leaves, and lavender buds along its length. He did the same to their palms tracing the thorn piercings to create tiny lavender sprouts twined together with vines that wrapped not once, but twice around their forearms. He was diligent in his workmanship, lifting his incisor and precisely placing the tip to ply the indelible mark, stopping only to re-ink it.
Nobles approached to offer their congratulations, but none lingered overlong. The tension between Jerad and Sera was a palpable thing. Mekal concentrated on his work, dismissing all expectations for reasonable conversation with them.
Sera gritted her teeth and flinched each time the point made contact. It burned.
"Why is it we can’t have anything to numb the pain?" She referred the question to Jerad, but he gave her no answer. He merely stared straight ahead.
Mekal twisted his mouth at Jerad’s indifference and offered Sera the answer. "The Marks of Permanence should not be taken lightly, Sera. They are considered a sacred endowment. To endure the pain of receiving them is to avow one’s abiding love and devotion."
Was that what Jerad felt for her? Sera looked at Jerad. He continued to ignore her.
No, he didn’t love her. Sera’s chest constricted with that definitive. He was only doing this because of the Edict. She sat in silence, wondering why she had consented to do this.
When the Marks of Permanence were completed, Mekal dusted the imprints with a drying powder and lightly brushed them off. He examined his work, pleased with the outcome. He stood to gather his things, motioned to Phoebe to follow him and they left to join the rest of the guests.
Perhaps some solitary time together would allow Jerad and Sera to resolve their differences.
Sera shifted restlessly beside Jerad, not knowing what to expect, waiting for what seemed like an eternity, for Jerad to respond. At last he turned to her, momentarily assaying the legend beneath her rib, and his crest upon her palm, so reflecting of his own, an intimate sharing of promise between them. He was rapt by how strikingly magnificent Sera looked bearing the Marks of Permanence--his Marks. The infatuation nearly disarmed him. He lifted his hand to touch those Marks, but stopped midair, remembering what he intended to say to her.
"I have been overly presumptuous and inconsiderate, Sera." He let his hand drop to his side. "You are my wife, but I will respect your wishes. I will not touch you again."
Jerad stood, spun on his heels and quit the hall.
"But I want you to." Sera whispered.
He did not hear her.
Within moments he was being marched back to the Great Hall, a humbled expression on his face. Shegarth caught him storming from his own marriage celebration and peevishly ordered him back inside, following Jerad to the table on the dais. Shegarth motioned for Sera to join them and she took a seat next to Jerad. He did not look at her. Attendants appeared with platters and the meal was served.
Sera found the mood less than pleasant.
This was suppose to be her wedding feast for goodness sakes, but it seemed more like a funeral!
Jerad refused to speak to her. He refused to even look at her. Shegarth kept rubbing his temple. Mekal attended to his food, and Aryan--for the love of the holy keepers, whoever they were, conversed with Jerad as if nothing foul had occurred between them. Yet even Aryan sat gloomily slumped in his chair.
Sera tried to speak to Jerad again. He blinked and turned his head away. Sera glared at him. She huffed and pursed her lips.
Words could hurt, but his silence was breaking her heart.
To hell with it! She’d had enough. He was acting like a total--a total--
"Jackass!" Sera snapped as she stood and stomped away. Phoebe’s lower lip rolled into a pout and she glowered at Jerad. She stood abruptly and followed Sera.
Aryan leaned in toward Jerad. "What is a jackass?"
"I do not know, but I think that it is not a good thing." Jerad grumbled, as he watched Sera move down the rows of tables.
"Hmph," Aryan replied as he scanned the hall to locate his wife. Ezra sat at the table farthest from the dais, the tables reserved for the Nobles of the least status. "Is it anything like a crackbrain?"
Mekal looked up from his plate and lifted an eyebrow.
"It was Ezra’s choice of praise when I declared the Challenge. She has been in a foul mood ever since." Aryan frowned.
"It is why she sits there." He tipped his head in Ezra’s direction. "Her intent is to publicly scorn me."
The muscle in Jerad’s jaw ticked as he watched Sera sit next to Ezra. He clutched his mug in his hand, lifted it to his lips and took a large swallow. He could already hear the gossip mongers’ fabrications as to why his wife left her place next to him. What he should do is tramp right down there, carry her back to his table and tie her to her seat!
"What irritates you, filos?" Mekal leaned in toward Jerad. His tone was discreet.
"Look where she sits, at the lowest ranking table in the hall."
"What of it?"
"Her place during the meal is with me, yet you see how she refuses me."
"And you have welcomed
her with open arms?"
"She wishes to humiliate me as Sondra did," Jerad scowled.
Mekal scratched his chin. "Hmph, now I see what motivates you Chancellor, yet I remind you that Sera is not Sondra."
A serving maid approached. She bent over Jerad in a dramatic manner as she set the next course on the table. Her buxom breasts were clearly visible and dangled flagrantly close to his face.
Both Aryan and Mekal snorted.
"Eunice, I swear you have a nose for trouble." Jerad blinked at her cleavage, rolled his eyes and turned his head aside.
Eunice rose slowly and looked down from the platform to where Sera sat.
Troubles in the bedchamber, and so soon.
How fortunate for her. She would enjoy a swiving with the Noble Chancellor.
"Why Noble Jerad, I am only doing my job."
"And what job might that be sweet?" Mekal asked as he stroked her bottom.
Eunice cast a lingering glance toward Mekal. He was handsome and virile.
She would like that one too.
She swaggered back to the kitchens.
"Are you still angry with Sera?" Mekal returned to his conversation with Jerad.
"Ochi, it has passed."
"Then why do you punish her so?"
"As I said, I will not tolerate my wife shaming me."
"And she has behaved so disgracefully, has she not?"
"Meaning?"
Mekal dramatically threw his hands up.
"After all, she was dropped on her head, killed another, married off to a stranger, and told she was expected to save our world. Who is to blame? It is no wonder she hasn’t jumped from the nearest balcony, but she takes your Marks and gives you vows instead. How dare she rebel because you eschew her every attempt to get your attention! Shame on her!" Mekal bantered. "She must be daft as the rise is long."
Jerad narrowed his eyes at his confidante’s sarcasm. "She takes my Marks and gives me vows out of preservation instinct. It means naught to her."
"Ah, but Nai. Unrequited passion is indeed a sting to a man’s pride," Mekal mocked. He rubbed the pad of his thumb against his index fingers a hairsbreadth from Jerad’s nose.
"What are you doing?"
The Third Corridor Page 21
