Lost in the Dawn (Erythleh Chronicles Book 1)

by Catherine Johnson

  "Serry..."

  "Jor, what are you doing?"

  "Serry, please." He waited until she closed her mouth to continue. "I love you. I never stopped loving you, despite a lifetime spent apart. Serry, I'm asking you to marry me."

  "Jor..."

  He could hear the impending refusal in her voice. He stood, needing to be close to her, needing to be ready if she decided to bolt. "I want us to be together, to be a family, to walk side by side through this life."

  Serwren was trying to pull her hand back. He let go, only to take hold of her arms. He would not let her run away from him.

  "Why? Why now? Why so suddenly?"

  "Why waste any more time?"

  "But you're to leave for Vuthron soon. What purpose can this possibly serve? You want us to be a family? Why should I traumatise my son by introducing a father to him who is soon to die?"

  She wasn't wrong, and it was only as much as he had expected, but her harsh, ruthlessly practical words still stung. His hold on her tightened as he pulled her closer, trying to make her feel the sincerity of his intent.

  "Gods, Serry, because I am his father. You're not introducing a new father to him. You're introducing his true father. And have a little faith in my ability to stay alive, please."

  She was shaking her head too violently for him to keep his eyes on hers.

  "No, no. There's more to this than simple love. There's more to this than you're telling me."

  He had known that Serwren wouldn't simply fall at his feet, despite the tiny part of him that had hoped that she would. Now it was time to be brutally honest.

  "I want to marry you. There is no lie in that. I want us to be a family, with Ulli. I want to know I have that before I leave, so that I can carry the knowledge with me. I want that above all things, but I want to keep you safe, too, and I believe that your association with me will do that. Your enemies will take pause before they move against you in a way that they haven't since Seddrill left. But more than that, our marriage will enrage Erkas. He will challenge me, and I will kill him. A war with Vuthron might be avoided entirely, but if not, I leave knowing that you are safe, that my allies will also be yours."

  "You're so sure of that? So sure that you can kill him? That he won't kill you?"

  "You have no faith in me at all?"

  "I'm afraid to have faith in anything anymore."

  He couldn't stand the defeat in her voice, the fear. That wasn't the girl he'd known, it wasn't the woman he'd come to know.

  "Please, Serry." Jorrell dipped his head, intending to kiss her. She lifted her face to his, but before he completed the motion, he whispered against her lips, a promise, a prayer. "Believe in me, believe in us."

  He captured her lips with his as he released his hold on her, but only so that he could wrap his arms around her body and pull her even closer to him. He kissed her, desperately, roughly, needing to prove himself to her, physically if no other way.

  Jorrell felt Serwren arch in his embrace, not submitting to him, but offering more of herself so that she could claim more of him. She was returning his kiss just as ardently. He was hard for her. The pressure in his cock was almost painful; he had to make a conscious effort to keep from jerking his hips to relieve the sweet ache. He would not drag her down to the cold, wet sand like an animal. There would be other times, other nights.

  He would give her everything. His knees were weak with want, wanting to give Serwren the world, wanting to make her, and Ulli, into all of his. His heart was likely to thud right from his chest, and it seemed impossible that Serwren should not feel its beats since they were pressed so close to each other.

  The folds of Jorrell's great cloak fell around them, cocooning them from the world beyond. Serwren was in his arms and their worries were beyond the walls of the cave. Jorrell was sure that he must be dreaming, that he would jolt into waking and find himself in the middle of one of the frozen battlefields in Litt. It was not possible that he could be so close to having everything he'd ever yearned for.

  Desire, physical and emotional, wrenched a groan from deep in Jorrell's chest as they parted, gasping for air.

  "Very well," Serwren sighed. "Very well, Jor. I believe in you. I trust you to keep me safe, in so much that I am perfectly capable of attending to my own safety, but an extra pair of hands is always of use. I will marry you."

  "Thank you." Her acceptance of his proposal was grudging, at best, but he would take what he could get. "We'll find a priest in the morning."

  "No. I need to speak to Ulli first. I need to tell him about you, to prepare him."

  "I'll come with you."

  "No. I'll need you close at hand, I'm sure he'll have questions, but this is my secret to share with him, alone."

  "You know our son best. For now, I will be guided by you in this."

  Serwren pressed a brief, sweet kiss to his lips, but pulled back before he could make it more. "Make your arrangements for tomorrow night, if you can make them on such short notice."

  "You doubt me?"

  Serwren smiled, but her amusement had an unpleasant edge. "I'm sure you had everything in place, waiting only on my acceptance."

  She thought he would be so confident, so arrogant. She had been wrong. "Actually no. I have nothing planned. I was not certain that your answer would be yes."

  He had shocked her, truly shocked her. Her smile became wider, became open, became an honest expression of joy.

  "For that, if for nothing else, my answer is yes. Go ahead and make your plans. I will make mine, and tomorrow we will wed."

  "You won't be sorry, Serry."

  "I leave it up to you to ensure that," Serwren said, a humorous bite to her words. "But I must ask, since it seems impossible that our nuptials could be any sort of grand spectacle, how did you intend that Erkas find out about them?"

  "Do you want a grand spectacle?" Jorrell would build one, somehow, if that was what she wanted, but Serwren shook her head, as he had known she would. "Then he will find out about them when I tell him about them."

  "Then I also leave it to you to ensure that you come back from that conversation alive. It would be pleasant to spend a wedding night with a husband I actually desire."

  Jorrell hadn't needed any extra incentive, but he would capture the moon and the stars, kill the very gods themselves, to give Serwren what she wanted.

  Chapter Thirty

  Serwren let herself back into the palace, using the same small door hidden in the shadows at the base of a turret that she'd exited from earlier in the night. When she'd left the palace, she had been terrified and intrigued in equal measure. Remmah's cryptic message to meet Jorrell at the Moon Cave had filled her with curiosity as to his purpose. She had thought it a strange place, a strange time of year, for him to have arranged a romantic interlude out-of-doors, and she'd been right, after a fashion.

  Having discounted an amorous purpose for the meeting, Serwren had only been able to imagine that trouble must be on the horizon, gathering in darker clouds than ever before if Jorrell could not find a private corner in Thrissia in which to meet with her. Serwren's imagination had run riot as she'd made her way to the Moon Cave. By the time she had arrived in that place which had once been so special, but which she'd avoided for years, she had been trembling with the expectation of the end of her world.

  And then Jorrell had proposed.

  Fear had formed a barrier that had prevented her immediate acceptance. That reluctant pause had driven Jorrell to reveal the true motivations behind his plan. That he should have ulterior motives did not surprise her. Everyone hid the real reasons for their actions; it was always only a matter of when, or if, she found out about them. At least Jorrell had been honest and straightforward about his.

  It was a solid plan. Serwren had no doubt that Erkas would fly into the predicted rage on discovering that she was once again beyond his reach, and more than that, that Jorrell had been the one to claim her. Serwren knew that Jorrell was the physically stronger of the two
, there could be no doubt about that. Jorrell's life had been devoted to physical effort. Erkas, although hardly sloth-like, since he was too vain to allow his body to run to fat , was simply not in the same condition of fitness.

  Serwren's misgivings stemmed from her awareness of Erkas' devious nature, his ignoble and pathological need to win at all costs. It was almost a certainty that Jorrell would kill Erkas, just as much as it was that Erkas would cheat in the contest somehow.

  It was a good plan. It was not an impeccable one.

  Serwren wanted the future that Jorrell offered, she wanted their lives to be twined together, she wanted it so much that the wanting was almost a physical pain. She would risk much to make sure that such a thing could happen. She wanted to be free of the icy fingers of fear that Erkas still extended. She knew, without doubt, that neither she, nor Ulli, nor Jorrell could be truly safe unless Erkas was dead. She would barter any future with Jorrell to ensure that freedom.

  She and Jorrell had walked back from the Moon Cave hand-in-hand, just as they had done when they were still innocent in life, but they had not talked much on that moonlit journey. There was little to say until they were able to take their first steps in the light of the dawn. They had risked a passionate goodbye at the point that the road diverged to the palace and the barracks. His kisses had left her reeling, almost insensible. She'd had a taste of his passion now, and every second in his arms made her ravenous for more. It was a hunger she'd never thought to feel. Serwren had to be careful to keep her head when Jorrell was holding her so tightly, so firmly, so preciously.

  And now she was supposed to be sleeping. In the morning she was supposed to reveal the truth of his parentage to Ulli. That was what she had agreed with Jorrell, that was the plan he thought she was following.

  Serwren had decided to spend her time more effectively.

  She stole through the palace, along silent and abandoned passages, to her rooms. Her door was locked, everything within was undisturbed, just as she'd left it. Serwren hung her cloak on the hook from which it normally rested and looked around.

  Several candles which she'd left burning, and which now gave a guttering light, were still valiantly trying to illuminate the space. She had done nothing to make the room reflect any aspect of her personality. It was neat and clean and could have been the residence of anyone at all. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary; it was exactly as she needed it to look.

  Serwren carefully opened the door that led to Ulli's room and crept in to the darkness. By the dim light from her own room she could just about make out Ulli's sleeping form tucked under the covers in his bed. She could see his dark lashes resting on his pale cheek and the sweep of his dark hair against the white pillow case. She watched him in innocent sleep. He was the centre of her universe. All too soon, she closed the door carefully and locked it behind her. Although Ulli had a key hanging from his bed post, she usually left their connecting door unlocked. But tonight she needed to know that he had barriers around him.

  Serwren walked over to the shelves which contained the few books and scrolls which she chose to keep with her. The hem of her dress whispered over the floor. She ran her finger along the leather bindings of the volumes, skipping over the carefully stacked scrolls.

  Serwren didn't believe in maintaining a collection of personal possessions. Such an outward exposure of her inner mind could be burnt or broken in a fit of temper, an event which had happened frequently to her. If she didn't have anything that she visibly loved, then no one could take that thing from her to hurt her. She had kept that truth about everything in her life except Ulli. She'd kept Ulli and had made sure that no one had taken him from her.

  Her fingertip paused on the volume she was looking for. She pulled the book from its place and took it over to the chest of drawers. The candles there had the longest life left and gave the strongest light. Serwren, taking care to avoid the wax dripping lazily over the candelabra, laid the book down and opened it.

  It wasn't really a book, it was a box. The outside was bound to look like a book; the pages were finely carved and painted into the wood. The interior was made up of five small compartments. Serwren selected the drawer she wanted and gently tugged it open by the thin loop of silk attached to it. She knew their contents by memory. She plucked two glass vials from their hiding place.

  The glass of the small bottles was irregular and imperfect. Swirling colours, caused by impurities in the sand they had been birthed from, disguised the shades of the liquids within. Serwren knew that one was translucent, a sickly yellow hue, not unlike urine. It was the venom of a snake found only in the Southern Wastelands. The other vial contained deep red, viscous blood, the antidote to the venom. The cure to the fatal bite had been developed by forcing a goat to drink an elixir of the venom, which had been milked directly from the snake and then mixed with water. The goat had been allowed to become sick and to recover. Then its throat had been slit and its blood had been harvested. The travelling apothecary that Serwren had purchased the vials from had promised that if the blood was consumed within minutes of the venom being administered, then sickness would follow, but not death. Serwren had never yet tested the theory herself, but she was relying on it tonight. She tucked the vials, which were both small enough to fit into the palm of her hand together, into a pocket in her dress. The pocket was hidden by a fall of material which covered one arm, from shoulder to hem.

  Serwren left her rooms, locking the door securely behind her. At this time of night, or rather of morning, there were few people to be found in the corridors. Although she did not trust the shadows, Serwren was reasonably certain that she remained unseen as she flitted through the muted rainbows cast by the moonlight seeping through the coloured window panes.

  In the kitchen, her destination, she found a jug of wine, made from the dark grapes of the eastern region of the country. Still she encountered no residents of the building. By rights, all should be asleep for hours more. She carried the jug through midnight corridors, along a route she normally avoided, the route to Erkas' rooms.

  Serwren knocked on the heavy door and heard the call granting entry. She had known it would be likely that Erkas would still be awake. From being a young boy he had never slept for more than the briefest stretches of the night. As she'd grown older, Serwren had put his insomnia down to the plots swirling in his head; there was too much evil within him to allow for relaxation.

  She found Erkas in the dining room, perusing papers spread in chaotic order across the table. She could tell by the disarray that he had been using the room as a centre of operations for at least a few days.

  Erkas' face was set in an irritated frown to greet his visitor. She supposed that he had thought the interruption was an incompetent servant. His features rearranged themselves, transforming slowly into a predatory grin, as he comprehended who it was that stood before him.

  "To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure, sister?"

  Serwren forced an answering smile. "I bring news, and wine." She plucked two goblets from the end of the table, shook the dregs in them onto the floor, and poured wine from the jug she carried into both of them. She handed one to Erkas.

  Erkas raised a curious eyebrow. "Really? News you wished to tell me personally? It must be momentous indeed for you to visit me alone, and at this hour."

  "I'm to be married tomorrow," Serwren said simply.

  Erkas paused with the goblet at his lips. "And which person of influence will you sell your body to this time?"

  Serwren did not answer until Erkas had taken a mouthful of his wine. "Jorrell."

  Erkas paused again, the goblet still at his mouth. He did not speak, but the muscle twitching in his jaw was a eulogy to his rage.

  Serwren tried to arrange her features into unconcerned brightness. "Come, brother, will you not congratulate me and toast my impending nuptials?"

  Erkas took a gulp of his drink. "The General is to march for Vuthron before the next moon, barely ten nights from now. You are soon t
o be a widow."

  Serwren nodded. "Yes, I remember that we've discussed your intention to murder him before."

  Erkas tossed the rest of the wine down his throat and carelessly dropped the goblet; it clattered to the floor as he stood. He pushed his chair back and rounded the corner of the table. Serwren put her own goblet on the table, freeing both her hands for action, or at least defence.

  "And yet you plan to have this brief time with him? How... touching," he sneered.

  Serwren tried to stand her ground as Erkas advanced on her, but the menace in his eyes made her take retreating steps backwards.

  "But I can take that from you, sister. You can't fight me, Serry. I'm stronger than you, and you know it. I'll take you now. I'll fuck you so hard that you won't want any man within a hundred paces of you, let alone an expectant and ardent husband. Bornsig was too useful to me to be cuckolded. I couldn't risk losing the certainty of his vote. And then you exiled yourself for years, only to come back and make yourself the mistress of that... that...abomination. Well now, dear sister, I plan to make you mine. Jorrell can't have you. You're mine. He'll never have you."