Lost in the Dawn (Erythleh Chronicles Book 1)

by Catherine Johnson

  "Jor..."

  "Don't say it, Serry," he shook the thoughts out of his head. "I know what you're thinking, what you're about to say, that this... us... can't work if I interfere in your politics. I won't. I have no intention of doing so, unless I see you putting yourself at too great a risk."

  "Jor, I wouldn't put myself at risk needlessly, but the future of our country is at stake."

  He was infuriated that she still couldn't see his point, but his love for her softened his tone. "Serry, you do not have a clear view of risk as far as your own self is concerned. You put yourself in situations that other people would never think of countenancing because you value yourself so little. You always put others first. Serry, I've only just got you back." Jorrell had to pause before he could continue. The years they had spent apart were wedged in his throat. "Serry, I couldn't..." he couldn't say the words.

  Serwren softened in his arms. There was no evidence of fear in her eyes now, but there were signs of tears that threatened to spill over her dark lashes.

  "I'm sorry. You're right, in many ways. Not least that I should accept the experience of your counsel."

  "You'll heed my advice, then?"

  "Yes. But only you and Cael can travel with me. I won't take a phalanx of soldiers into Vuthron."

  Jorrell ran the pad of his thumb over the distractingly inviting swell of Serwren's lower lip. "Serry, all the undead in the cold earth couldn't harm you if I am by your side."

  "Your arrogance will be your downfall, General."

  "It is arrogance where others are concerned. Where you are concerned, you and Ulli, it is confidence."

  Jorrell dipped his head to kiss Serwren. He had to. He couldn't look at the sadness in her eyes any longer. They both lost themselves in the kiss, their tongues caressing, tasting, insinuating what their bodies desired.

  Jorrell ran his palms over Serwren's shoulders, enjoying the way she shuddered at the heat of his touch. He toyed with the gossamer strands that held her dress in place. The garment was some sort of confection that resembled the whorls of a fingerprint; it was made from strips of silver silk which offered tantalising glimpses of Serwren's skin when she moved. There was heavy jewel-work guarding her cleavage. When Jorrell skimmed the insubstantial straps over her shoulders, the weight of the stones and metal pulled the whole dress to the floor.

  "Jor, we have duties..." Serwren muttered an unconvincing protest.

  "Shh. We'll get to them... in time."

  They'd spent too long apart. He was greedy for her. Jorrell found himself irrationally jealous of the time Serwren had to spend away from him, of the other people that claimed her attention. Even though he had fought, had spilled his own blood for Felthiss, he wanted the whole fucking country to burn so that he could be alone with his family.

  When he dipped his head to kiss the spot on her neck where her pulse beat close to the surface of her skin, Serwren sighed, and Jorrell knew that she would not argue anymore.

  He filled his hands with her breasts, feeling the tight, hard points of her nipples rub against his palms. He loved the greedy way that she arched into his caress, seeking, demanding more of him.

  As much as he wanted to feel her naked skin against his, Serwren was right; they both had duties to attend to that would fill their day well beyond nightfall. They simply didn't have time for him to shed the pieces of armour he was wearing in order to free himself of his clothes.

  If this dalliance was to be anymore than a frustration, then Serwren's trust in him was probably about to be severely tested.

  Jorrell unfastened his mouth from Serwren's neck and lifted it to her ear. "Turn around."

  Serwren let out a sound that was somewhere between a moan and a whimper, and then did as Jorrell asked. He ran his hands down her arms, encircled her wrists in his fingers, and lifted her arms until he could place her hands flat against the wall that had been behind her, that she was now facing. Then he pushed lightly between her shoulder blades. Serwren caught his meaning and bent forward, bracing her forearms against the wall until her upper body was parallel with the floor.

  Jorrell knew that Serwren's previous experiences of physical love had been fraught, unwilling, violent. He was amazed that she allowed him to touch her at all, let alone that she exhibited the faith in his touch such as she was showing now. She was almost virginal in her experience of sex in terms of mutual pleasure, of making love. Jorrell had made it his mission to coach her to a full enjoyment of the act. He intended to make up for their lost time, to show her all the things that they should have been able to learn together.

  Trying not to allow himself to be distracted by the sweeping curves of Serwren's pale body, Jorrell freed his aching cock from his trews. He was aroused to the point of pain, but he could not hurt her. He smoothed one palm over the sweet globe of Serwren's arse until he could slide his fingers between her legs. She jerked up onto her toes when he touched the tender flesh that wept for his touch.

  Slipping his fingers into that wet heat was a kind of bliss that he had never known before. Serwren's breath came in gasps as he took time to prepare her body. Then, hoping that she was too distracted, too needing for the cold metal of his armour to be too uncomfortable, he took hold of her hips and fed his cock into her.

  Serwren's breathless cries were sweetly musical to him, a counterpoint to his own lust-fuelled grunts. His fingers were tight into her flesh, but Serwren was pushing back as much as he was pulling her to him. She was as greedy, as demanding of their satisfaction as he. The sight of his shaft sliding in and out of her body, seeing her moisture glistening on him, hearing her gasps each time he pushed deep, was likely to drive Jorrell crazy, to tip him over the edge of the control he needed to maintain. It seemed like mere seconds, nowhere near long enough, before he felt her spasms squeezing him, milking him, commanding him. As always he was helpless to disobey her. Jorrell pulled Serwren firmly onto his cock for several deep thrusts until his need overtook him and he released into her with a groan that scorched his throat.

  They paused, panting, propped against the wall in a sweating, erotic mess.

  There was no way he was letting Serwren out of his sight. Not ever.

  ~o0o~

  The long journey to Vulc, the capital of Vuthron and location of the castle which was the residence of the king, had been mercifully uneventful. Kavrazel had given guarantees for Serwren's safety at these peace talks, but with the natural distrust of an experienced soldier, Jorrell had disregarded those promises and armed himself and Cael accordingly.

  He could not arm them against the landscape. Vuthron was a region dominated by active volcanoes. It seemed, once they had passed through the eerie silence of the forest of Thorak, that the entire country was nothing but raw, black rock moulded into impossible shapes, spewing fire and smoke. It tested Jorrell's self-possession immeasurably not to demand that Serwren turn around and leave such a visibly inhospitable land.

  Now Jorrell was watching Serwren discussing politics with King Kavrazel. The tall man, with skin as pale as one would expect from a land shrouded in a semi-permanent blanket of thick smoke, was no less forbidding than the glassy, black stone walls of the forbidding castle he called home, but Serwren did not seem to be intimidated.

  King Kavrazel had been ruling for more than twenty years. He had first borne the stifling weight of his crown aged eighteen, following the premature death of his parents. They had been on an official visit to Morjay, land of the giants, and had never returned. The story went that there had been an accident involving an unexpected storm and a poorly repaired wheel on the carriage they were travelling in, along a wholly unsuitable road. Jorrell wasn't entirely sure he believed that story, but this wasn't the time or the place to make enquiries. And, honestly, as long as Serwren could negotiate Felthiss out of the impending war, he didn't care how Kavrazel had come about his crown.

  Kavrazel's power settled in a comfortable aura around him, but he had no air of complacency. Jorrell could tell by watching th
at Kavrazel was a strong king, but he had no idea whether that translated as being a good king. Jorrell didn't think that anyone who drank the blood of slaves could call himself good, but then, he wasn't there to offer an opinion, only to keep Serwren safe.

  Serwren looked like a queen. Jorrell considered her to be his queen, but it was not right to call her such within hearing of other people. Felthiss was a democracy, not a monarchy, but Serwren had dressed for this occasion knowing that she was meeting a king, and understanding that, as head of her country, she was his equal. The upper half of the dress that she was wearing appeared to be made of golden feathers, overlaid to form a thick bodice that hugged her curves lovingly and culminated in a collar that stood upright from her shoulders and framed her face. It somehow gave the effect that Serwren was wearing a crown, even though she would never wear such a token of her position. The bodice extended to her knees, and below that were layers of pristine white fabric that skimmed the floor.

  Normally, Jorrell would not have paid so much attention to Serwren's clothing, other than to assess the ease of its removal, except that earlier that day he had wondered if she was wearing anything under the elaborate bodice. He did not know for certain, because he had not been able to watch her dress. As they were not yet wed, they were being accommodated in separate rooms.

  Jorrell wasn't wondering about the existence of corsetry and undergarments now, though. He was looking around the room, evaluating the guards, noting the exits and entries, trying to see into the shadowed nooks and crannies. He was on alert. It was exhausting, being in this constant state of readiness for hours with no action, but he was well practiced, and he knew that Cael could stand as long as he. And now, more than at any time before, the incentive was worth the effort.

  ~o0o~

  It was the end of the third day of talks. Jorrell was tired. He hadn't been listening much to the discussions, but every time he chanced to tune in to the talk, the group that had convened, apparently with the sole purpose of intimidating Serwren - because barely any of them sounded like they knew what in the fucking world they were talking about - seemed to be talking in circles.

  Jorrell was almost itching out of his skin to be able to touch Serwren. It was a horrific torture to have her near and yet so far, but Serwren seemed to be suffering immeasurably more, principally from the arduous discussions. She was pale and there were dark circles under her eyes. Jorrell had even noted a slight trembling in her frame. If the day's session hadn't ended when it had, Jorrell would have called a halt to the proceedings, citing Serwren's well-being as his reason.

  He caught Cael's eye as they progressed down the corridor to their rooms. Cael nodded once, his mouth set in a grim line. He'd been no happier than Jorrell with the visit to this foreign land, and he was as worried about Serwren's health and the toll that the negotiations were taking on her. Knowing that he had his friend's support, that Serwren was outnumbered, Jorrell prepared to demand that Serwren take a break from these interminable meetings for the span of a day.

  As was their routine, Cael unlocked the door to Serwren's room, then Cael scanned the hallway as Jorrell scanned room itself, before Serwren was allowed to enter. When she immediately went to the bed and sagged down onto it, cradling her head in her hands, Jorrell knew that he would receive no argument for his proposition.

  He went to his knees in front of her, gently taking hold of her shoulders, as Cael locked them into privacy.

  "Serry, you need to take some time. You're too tired. This isn't good for you, and it isn't effective for the discussions."

  Serwren lifted her head. She was even paler up close, the shadows under her eyes stood out in a way that made Jorrell want to scoop her up and ride directly for Felthiss, but... she was smiling.

  "You haven't been listening to a word, have you?"

  Jorrell frowned. "No. I've been watching for an attack. You deal with the politics, I deal with your safety. That's the agreement."

  "The talks are over. We've reached a truce."

  "Well hoo-fucking-rah for that," came Cael's dry assertion from by the window.

  Jorrell glanced over to his friend and then turned back to Serwren. "Good. Wonderful. But I don't fucking care." Jorrell pushed Serwren's shoulders until she acquiesced and lay back on the bed. Fortunately for them both, her choice of outfit on this day was less elaborate than on others. "You are going to stay here." He slipped the shoes from her feet, "and you are going to rest for at least one whole day." He pulled the cover that was folded at the foot of the bed up and over her body. He decided that rest was a more immediate concern than coercing her to undress. "And then we are going home. I don't give a fuck what you think about that. You're exhausted, drained. Anything else you need to arrange with the king is a minor detail that can be done by intermediaries."

  "Very well. I won't argue."

  Jorrell pulled up short. It was an answer from his dreams, but so unlike Serwren. He put a hand to her brow. It was dry and cool, but he still feared that she was more ill than he'd thought.

  But she was smiling, a special sort of smile. It promised secrets.

  Jorrell sat on the edge of the bed by Serwren's shoulder and leaned down over her. It was as much privacy as they could achieve with Cael in the room, and Jorrell was not ready to send the only other guard out yet. "Serwren, what's going on?"

  When she cupped his face in her palm, still smiling that smile, Jorrell knew real and inexplicable fear.

  "I believe I'm with child. You're to be a father."

  At first, the order of the words appeared obscure. He already was a father. Then Jorrell realised that Serwren was trying to tell him that he was to be a father again, that he was to have a second child. He stared at her in wonder for long moments. Wonder passed into fear. If she looked this ill now, how ill would she become as the pregnancy progressed? Then fear faded into determination. By the gods, he would make sure that she rested and ate well. He would carry her on a fucking cushion if it cost her too much effort to walk.

  Jorrell moved his hand to Serwren's stomach. The covers lay between her flesh and his, but still, he was convinced that he could truly feel their child existing within her body.

  "We leave in the morning, and there will be no argument."

  Serwren nodded, still smiling her satisfied smile.

  Epilogue

  Serwren had forgotten just how exhausted it was possible to be in the early stages of pregnancy. For what had seemed like endless weeks, she had thought that every time she so much as blinked that she might drift off to sleep, even standing in the middle of the raucous Forum.

  She suspected that she was coming to the end of that trying time now and that she would soon pass into the period where she could enjoy the life growing inside her, free from the need to sleep constantly, and before her belly swelled to uncomfortable proportions. It hadn't swelled at all yet, although Serwren suspected that Jorrell would be the first to tell her when it did. He couldn't stop touching her; sometimes she had to remind him with a word or a look that they were not alone.

  They had barely completed their return from Vuthron in time for the third moon of Aweer, and during their trek across the lands Serwren had experienced a mild panic about making preparations for a wedding whilst trying to run a country. However, when they had arrived home, she had found that Remmah had been busy in her absence. Serwren only recalled mentioning her impending marriage and the proposed date to the consul in conversation once, but it seemed that Remmah had determined that such a notion was set in stone and should be expedited with every effort. Remmah had scoffed when Serwren had asked if she had consulted fortune tellers to know that her mission would be a success and that she would return in time.

  Much to Jorrell's irritation, Seddrill had accompanied their party back to Thrissia to resume his seat in the Forum. Serwren thought that it was the best choice, Seddrill was well acquainted with the city and its people, and well respected by them, but privately she thought that King Kavrazel had mischievou
s motives. As circumspect as she and Jorrell had been whilst in Vuthron, Serwren was sure that rumours of their relationship had been reported to the king.

  Jorrell was managing to maintain a civil attitude to Seddrill, for the present, but Serwren doubted that Jorrell's jealousy was so easily dismissed. Cael seemed to be enjoying the difficult situation immensely, and it didn't help matters that Serwren couldn't help laughing at his sly asides that were designed to inflame Jorrell.

  The developing relationship between Ulli and Jorrell was a fragile thing, but it was growing stronger every day. Ulli had been excited at the news he was to become a big brother, but the young boy had been dealing with a lot of upheaval in his short life already. Serwren was hoping that they could be settled now, that they could be a family, but Ulli had developed a tendency to strike out with a child's bewilderment to the adult problems that he was having to face. She knew her son was still finding it hard to cope with her divided attentions as well as the sudden expansion of their family. Jorrell seemed to instinctively know when the occasion called for a firm stance, or when it was most beneficial to take Ulli into the countryside, usually hunting, for some quiet and focussed attention.