Lost in the Dawn (Erythleh Chronicles Book 1)

by Catherine Johnson

  Ellspith, a tall, carefully elegant woman with snow white hair, continued.

  "It's not just the threat from Vuthron. The people themselves are anxious. There has been no accused to bring forth to trial for the murder of your brother, but he was no longer loved much by the people, so they can accept that. The issue is that they feel the Forum itself is rotten."

  Daleith, a woman who shared the statuesque attitude of Ellspith, and their height advantage over Remmah, added her view. "We hear whisperings. The people feel we, all the consuls, are bloated, that we feed off their hard work. The actions of consuls such as your late husband; never visiting the people who elected him, never paying attention to their welfare, are not helping. We fear that we face an uprising within Felthiss, within Thrissia, before Kavrazel can dispatch his troops."

  Serwren looked gain at her visitors. "And again, I ask what you expect from me?"

  Astol's deep voice rumbled across the room. "We need to hold an election."

  Serwren held her tongue.

  Remmah put her hand on the covers, on Serwren's leg. "Serwren, you are popular among the people. They heard what you did in Senthirr. They are well aware of what you did here in Thrissia, how you managed your brother for the good of the city, of the country. What we are suggesting has never been done before in our history, but we feel that if we propose your election, directly, as head of the Forum, that the people will be satisfied."

  Serwren could not speak. Her thoughts and words had deserted her.

  Orlon spoke then, pulling at his bushy black beard as he did so. His green eyes were serious. They had mistaken her silence for refusal. "It is not just about saving ourselves, preserving the Forum. We feel that you are the best head of state that we could possibly have."

  Serwren was still trying to twist her mind around this reality, that could only be a dream, in which she was being offered the fulfilment of every ambition she had ever harboured.

  "But.. but.. I've never been elected to consul. I can't be elected to First .. Father.. Mother.. whatever."

  Vaden, his young age disguised by the permanently serious set of his features, answered her. "We believe a majority vote in the Forum will be enough. It may even be unanimous. All of Erkas' acolytes are powerless without him. They will do much to maintain their comfortable lifestyles."

  "They won't be keeping them in the manner that they are now if I'm in charge."

  "Good." Remmah returned. "But they don't need to know that, not just yet."

  Astol took a step forward. "Serwren, will you do it? If we force this vote, if we ensure that it falls in your favour, will you accept this duty?"

  Serwren fought the urge to look at Jorrell. This was a decision that she needed to make by herself, for herself. She wondered if his male ego would be pricked by his intended wife gaining a position that put her in direct command of his actions. She wondered if his words in the Moon Cave had been honest, if he still wished to wed her now that Erkas was dead. Movement across the room caught her eye. She lifted her eyes from their study of the bed covers. Jorrell was watching her with a surreptitious smile. He nodded his head once.

  Serwren answered his grin with one of her own, but looked at Remmah as she spoke. "Yes. I will accept the honour of leading the people of Felthiss, if you think you can make it so."

  "Good, good." Astol nodded. "We have much work to do. We will hold the vote before nightfall." He began to herd the other consuls out of her room. "We need to move quickly to quell the fear and disquiet in the city."

  Remmah bobbed her head in assent and stood. Before she left the room, she bent to kiss Serwren's cheek. Serwren thought only to mutely accept the gesture, but when Remmah murmured "Well done" in Serwren's ear, and winked as she straightened, Serwren couldn't help the laughter borne of relief and gratitude that bubbled up and demanded release.

  ~o0o~

  When Serwren gasped as she tried to shrug out of the heavy brocade ceremonial robes, Jorrell stilled her with his palms on her shoulders, before catching the edge of the weighty garment and slipping it from her outstretched arms.

  As the consuls had promised, before nightfall on the day that they had visited her, they had gathered the Forum to vote on their proposal for Serwren to take the position of First Mother of Felthiss. As they had hoped, the vote had swung unanimously in Serwren's favour.

  They had convened the inauguration ceremony for the following day, all the better to quash the incipient mutiny in the populace. Serwren had risen from her recovery to stand in the Forum. She had taken her place on the dais, in front of the seat that she could now call her own, wearing the robes that had last been donned by her brother, and by her father before that, and listened to the officious words intoned by the priests and priestesses. Religion was not always prevalent in the home of their democracy, but for such a ceremony, they all bent their knee to the higher powers.

  She had looked around at the blur of faces, trying to pick out those most important to her from the dizzying mass. Ulli had been beaming with pride. Remmah was the very picture of satisfaction. The other consuls that Serwren counted as allies, at least for the present, were also revelling in their success, except for Astol; the sour-faced man never visibly revelled in anything. Jorrell had been impassive. He had been trying to maintain an air of professional impartiality. In private, Serwren knew that he was just as overjoyed for her as Ulli was.

  Upon receiving the news of the result of the vote, Cael had merely sighed and muttered something about a doubled workload, but during the ceremony he had grinned and inclined his head to her when her gaze caught his.

  There was still no word from Vuthron as to whether they intended to replace Consul Seddrill with another emissary. As a gesture of peace and goodwill to Kavrazel, Serwren had instructed that Seddrill's seat be left vacant, in anticipation of either his return or his replacement. That the Forum now constituted an even number of voters meant that Serwren would have to work harder to build a consensus to enable motions to be passed.

  Jorrell took the thick silk robe that he had removed from her shoulders and folded it in half over his arm, and then placed it on the floor underneath the window casement. For now, she and Ulli were still using their own rooms. Serwren had no wish to move immediately into the suite that had been her father's and then her brother's residence, not before some drastic changes were made so that she wasn't surrounded by constant reminders of the men who had occupied that space before her. That move was also delayed by Mara's adamant opinion that they weren't moving until Erkas' blood had been thoroughly scraped out from between the tiles.

  Serwren tried to twist to catch the fastening of her dress, but gasped again as the action stretched muscles and organs that would have preferred to rest longer, following their ordeal.

  "Don't be so impatient. I'll help you out of it soon enough."

  Serwren felt the warmth of Jorrell's presence at her back, and then his fumbling fingers at the nape of her neck.

  "You should watch your tone, General." Serwren's voice was impish with humour. "I have the authority to command you as I wish."

  She felt Jorrell's shrug hitch his arms as he worked on the small hooks which held the glittering sheath in place. "Maybe, beyond these walls."

  "And inside them?"

  Serwren shivered, as Jorrell, distracted by the deep cleavage of the dress, which was cut from her shoulders to her navel, reached over her shoulder to trail his fingertips in the valley between her breasts.

  "Inside them I am still yours to command, but not because it is my duty to obey you."

  Serwren encircled Jorrell's wrist with her fingers and swallowed hard before she spoke. "Do you still want to marry me? You don't have to now, and my position could... complicate matters."

  Tenderness was forgotten as Jorrell gripped her shoulders and spun her around to face him. His blue eyes flashed with sparks of anger. "You doubt me. Don't. Don't doubt me ever again. Never doubt my love for you. I would be honoured to be your husband, whether
you be a beggar or a queen."

  A simple apology didn't seem enough to soothe the hurt she had unwittingly caused. Serwren lifted her hand and laid her palm against Jorrell's stubbled cheek. At first he remained tense and motionless, but then he relaxed, just a little, and tilted his head into her touch. He turned his face and kissed her palm.

  "I'm sorry."

  "Don't apologise," he murmured against her skin. "Tell me when we can be wed."

  "What would you think of marrying on the day of the Feast of the Twelfth Moon?"

  "You would make me wait so long?" Jorrell's eyes were heated with a different purpose now, with an intent that brought a flush to Serwren's skin.

  "Only to have our union recognised officially."

  "Does that mean you're not going to ask me to leave tonight?"

  Serwren's breath caught at the low rumble of Jorrell's voice. "No, I'm not going to ask you to leave. But I would ask you to remember that Ulli's room adjoins this."

  "You best lock his door, then."

  Jorrell's words were little more than a growl at the last. The timbre of his voice made muscles low in Serwren's stomach clench with want. She hurried to comply with his suggestion. She locked the adjoining door, and then the door from her room to the corridor. The early evening twilight was gathering, but Ulli was not abed yet and Serwren didn't want to take the chance of him walking into her room unannounced.

  When she returned to Jorrell, he had finished stripping out of most of the pieces of armour that he had worn to the formal event. The absence of all the intricate metal left him in his thin cotton shirt and his leather trews and boots.

  When she reached him, Jorrell motioned for her to turn around. When she did so, and gave him her back, he took up the task he'd abandoned for their conversation and resumed unfastening her dress. Once all the tiny hooks had been released, the dress fell from her shoulders, but only sagged a few inches. The sleeves, which were fitted snugly along her arms, prevented it from falling any further.

  Serwren was about to tug her arms free, until she felt Jorrell's hands on either side of her neck. The heat from his palms warmed her skin beyond his touch. He smoothed his hands down her neck, over her shoulders, down her limbs, pushing the dress in his path. Her breasts sprang free as he brushed the material past her elbows. Jorrell finished by tugging the sleeves over her hands. Once free from her body, the shimmering material pooled at her feet.

  The whisper of material in motion filled the silence. Serwren remained still. Then she felt the searing heat of Jorrell's bare skin as he stepped closer to press his body against hers. He had slipped free of his shirt.

  He reached around her body to cup her breasts in his hands, encompassing them almost completely. Serwren shivered; the air which swirled around the rest of her exposed skin seemed much colder compared to the places that her flesh touched his.

  Jorrell's lips moved against her ear. "Together, now and always."

  Serwren couldn't decipher the double meaning. She wasn't sure whether Jorrell was making a suggestive comment about their present, or affirming his desire for their future, or both.

  And then it didn't matter anymore because his hand was trailing down, over her belly, and lower still. She jerked, a helpless motion, when Jorrell touched her mound. Her skin felt as if lightening had struck and left traces of its bolt running through her body, prickling, tantalising, just waiting to be reignited.

  When Jorrell delved deeper, she felt the slick slide as he caressed her wet, swollen flesh. Serwren moaned.

  Serwren dug her fingers into Jorrell's arm where it remained banded across her chest, his fingers teasing at her nipple. His other hand searched, probed deeper, finding pleasure. He murmured demands in a lust-roughened voice, encouraging her body to respond to his touch. She could not disobey, even if she had wanted to.

  She could feel Jorrell's shaft, restrained by the leather of his trews, but no less solid for its captivity. It was hard against the swell of her buttocks. Serwren rocked against it, unconsciously seeking as much friction as she could find. Her movements brought deep grunts from Jorrell.

  She obeyed his rough, coarse commands. She flew apart as the pleasure trembled through her blood, across her skin. Her knees gave way, but Jorrell caught her, turned her and scooped her up in his arms before carrying her over to her bed.

  She had many duties to attend to and a country to run. But for now, this time, was theirs.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  "No. Serwren, you can't do this." Her calm demeanour in the face of his insistence was only serving to antagonise him. Jorrell was working hard to keep his temper.

  "I have to."

  "Send an emissary."

  "That would be a pointless exercise. Kavrazel won't trust a second-hand message, and then I'll just have to go anyway."

  "Serry, there are any number of people that I would happily send to the land of the blood drinkers. You are not one of them."

  "I'm the First Mother of Felthiss. It is my duty to protect my people."

  Jorrell took a deep breath. The fresh air filling his lungs brought a measure of calm, and allowed him to see a little more clearly through his anger. Serwren's expression was pinched around her eyes. She had lost patience with him. He didn't have the right to demand that she stay in Felthiss, and to her credit, she hadn't yet reminded him of that fact.

  He sighed, sagging with defeat and the knowledge that it would not be the last time that they danced these steps.

  "You're not going alone."

  "I wasn't planning to." Serwren paused, and from the way she looked at the floor, he knew he wasn't going to like what she said next. It was a good thing that they had both been able to contain this argument until they were safely ensconced in Serwren's room. "But, Jor, it can't be you that accompanies me."

  "Serry, either I go with you, to protect you, or by the gods I will tie you to the fucking bed, and no one will go to Vuthron and we'll wait until the fucking undead march into Thrissia."

  "Jor, you're not being reasonable, not in the least."

  He was pacing the room. He could not keep still. "No, Serry. You're not being reasonable. Why in the twelve moons would you think, even for a moment, that I would let you go on such a mission without me by your side to protect you?"

  "Because taking a General of my armies with me makes it look more like a war party and less like a peace mission."

  "I disagree. It shows the value placed on your life, the implications of your death, should Kavrazel harbour ill intentions."

  "And if Kavrazel does harbour ill will, we could be depriving Ulli of both his parents."

  "That's a low blow, Serwren." Serwren had enlightened Ulli to his true parentage the day following her inauguration. There had been shock, disbelief, and some tears, but there had been happiness and relief, too. It would take time for Ulli to get used to having more than one parent, and it would take time for Jorrell to get used to the role of father, but they were all committed to the effort.

  Serwren crossed her arms stubbornly over her chest. "If you're so adamant that someone of rank should accompany me, then General Hitaal can perform the duty."

  "No. I trust no one else with your life in this case. It will be Cael and I. If you wish to maintain an appearance of peace, then we shall be your sole bodyguards. If we can't keep you alive between us, then a whole battalion couldn't."

  "Jor..."

  "No, Serry. You may be First Mother, but I've been evaluating and executing strategy for years. Accept my experience in this matter. The consuls report that Felthiss appears stable. They've only had a leader they respect for less than half a moon. What do you think your death would do to the country? There's more to this than simply ensuring the safety of the woman I love."

  "How much more, Jor?"

  Jorrell halted mid-step. His heart halted mid-beat. "What do you mean?"

  "You made no secret of your jealousy of Seddrill..."

  Serwren's voice drifted to nothing as he stalked acro
ss the room and grabbed her arms. It took every ounce of control that he had not to shake her. The fear that widened her eyes stabbed at his gut, but Jorrell grimly hoped that it would chip at her obstinacy and allow reason to penetrate her attitude.

  "Are you asking if I'm worried that you'll offer your blood to the King of another country? No, I don't think you would commit such political suicide. I credit you with more intelligence. Please do the same for me." She was still frightened of him. Jorrell hated to see that. She should never be scared of him. His voice softened as he released her and smoothed one palm over her hair, which was coming lose from the elaborate braid she'd twisted it into before attending the Forum. "I fully understand why this journey must be undertaken, and if it has to be, I want someone I can trust guarding you. Quite simply, Serry, there is no one in the world I trust more with that duty than myself and Cael."