You have blinded yourself so fully with your goals that the rest of the world is nothing more than shadows to you. I hope this army is the most formidable force on the face of Sanctuary, Jala. That is about the only way it could be worth the price you have paid for it, Marrow told her as he rose from the floor and stretched. I love you, Jala, and I will always stand beside you. I will stand beside you in this, but I will be hanging my head in shame as I do, Marrow finished as he moved closer to her and braced his massive head against her leg.
Jala stared down at him for a long moment, her hand trailing across the back of his head. “I never wanted his friendship to be the price Marrow. I have followed the only path I saw available. Faydwar and Firym are infested with Blights, Arovan and Glis are on their knees and Oblivion is worse off than Merro. I had no other choices for an alliance, Marrow. Please understand that,” Jala pleaded, her eyes growing glassy.
So blind, Marrow repeated as he pushed against her leg forcing her back down the hall toward the room where her friends waited.
Jala allowed herself to be pushed and began walking slowly, her head hung as she tried to master her emotions. It wouldn’t do to walk back into that room on the verge of tears. Taking a slow breath, she shook her head at Marrow. “Sometimes there are no good choices,” she whispered as she stepped through the doorway once more.
“This is absolutely ridiculous. Women do not have Warders,” Jexon raged as he paced the small room they stood in. The High Lord had arrived only moments before and simply his presence had managed to clear most of the occupants of the room. Every assistant or servant that wasn’t absolutely necessary had fled at his approach.
Jala watched him out of the corner of her eye from her perch in the center of the room. She didn’t dare move with the seamstress already glaring at her and holding a handful of pins. No doubt the woman wasn’t used to so much commotion in her tiny chamber. It was her own fault, though. She had been the one that had sent the page rushing to find the High Lord at the first mention of Warders.
“The vows were sworn before the council,” Ash said calmly as he watched his father cross the room once more.
Jexon turned his glare, moving from Ash then onto Neph and Valor. “Women have handmaids not Warders!” he repeated nearly screaming the words.
“I do her hair and nails on the side. Valor handles the wardrobe and fashion advice, and Ash is there for girl talk,” Neph said dryly with a tight smile.
“As far as I understand, the Warders are protectors of the ruling house. Nowhere in the laws does it state that the ruling individual must be male,” Ash broke in before Jexon could continue his ranting.
“It shouldn’t have to be stated in the laws. No woman has, or ever will hold ruling power in Seravae,” Jexon raged wheeling back to face his son once more.
“It’s a good thing she isn’t from Seravae then, isn’t it,” Valor said coldly, his eyes locked on the High Lord.
Jexon turned toward Valor, but held his tongue, his gaze furious. Smiling slightly, Valor raised an eyebrow in invitation, daring the man to speak. To Jala’s astonishment, Jexon turned to face the seamstress instead. “See that she is properly attired as a matron should be,” he snapped as he moved to stand directly in front of Jala, his gaze traveling over her critically. His eyes lingered on her right hand and his lip curled slightly. “And make sure she has some gloves,” he snarled as he turned back toward the door and his attention fell on the servant there. “Tell them to have plenty of strong alcohol at the feast tonight and have them find some Nesra powder.” Glancing back at her once more he shook his head. “I’m going to need it, I’m afraid,” he added in a disgusted voice as he stalked from the room.
Valor started to move forward to block his way but Neph pulled him back with a sharp shake of his head. “Not now, Val. He is trying to piss us off. The sorry bastard likely needs Nesra powder to get it up at all,” Neph whispered.
“He succeeded in pissing me off,” Ash said quietly and let out a slow breath. “Are you all right, Jala?” he asked as the seamstress moved off to sort through the stacks of cloth that covered most of the table standing by the far wall.
“I’m fine,” Jala replied, her eyes locked on Legacy who was happily playing on a blanket under the window. Her son had managed to capture Marrow’s tail finally and was trying to figure out how to shove it into his waiting mouth before the Bendazzi managed to free himself once more. Marrow squirmed and twisted in mock agitation always managing to keep his tail just out of range.
“I admire your resolve in this.” The soft voice drew Jala’s attention back to the doorway as the Master of Silence stepped into the room. The woman moved with a catlike grace as she crossed the room to stand before her. “Jexon is…” her voice trailed off as she searched for the proper word to use.
“A waste of air?” Neph offered in a helpful tone.
“A craven sack of shit unworthy to clean the mud from Jala’s shoes?” Valor suggested, taking the cue instantly from Neph.
“Please, I’m sure the lady can find her own choice of words here,” Jala said, desperately hoping they were done. She was quite sure both of them were filled with many more phrases that she didn’t want repeated in front of the snitching seamstress.
“No, either of their choices will do. I might have phrased it more eloquently, but theirs will suffice,” the lady said softly with amusement thick in her voice. Turning slowly she regarded the seamstress who was staring with a look of pure shock on her face. “If you repeat any of what was just said, old woman, it will be the last words you ever speak,” she warned. The seamstress paled visibly and nodded quickly, her attention swiftly returning to the cloth she was sorting. “I do not believe we had a chance to be properly introduced. My name is Sirena. My son tells me that you are remarkable in your will and determination.”
“Your son?” Jala asked as she pointed a finger toward Ash who simply nodded with a smile on his face. It was the first time she had seen him smile since they had stepped foot onto the islands.
Sirena nodded, and though the expression on her face was shrouded by the veil, Jala knew she was returning the smile. “He has warned you about Jexon, I assume?” Sirena asked.
“He has, and I understand this will be a difficult arrangement,” Jala replied. Though from what she had seen so far, difficult may not be the proper word to describe it. She had thought she was beyond insults, but Jexon’s every comment was cutting. In just the few times she had spoken with the man she had felt her confidence slipping.
“Well then, allow me to lesson a bit of the pain of it. The Wraiths support you. The isle of Silence has always supported my son and you will have the best that I have to offer from the Circle of Silence,” Sirena said as she turned back toward her son. “As for you, several of your friends asked me to tell you how pleased they are that you have finally returned. They look forward to speaking with you at your first convenience.”
Jala flicked a gaze toward Ash who simply smiled wider. Apparently that was the sign they were waiting for that would indicate their plan was working. “Please, Ash feel free to visit your friends if you like. I doubt I will be going anywhere soon, anyway.”
Ash shook his head with a smile. “It can wait, Lady Jala. I will stay close by until after the feast, in the event that you have any questions about the culture that I can help with,” he said bowing his head to her slightly.
“What questions could there possibly be about this culture. You are raiders that exist off others like parasites and treat your women with less respect than a civilized person shows a dog,” Valor said with a glare in Ash’s direction.
“Well, in their defense, most dogs I have seen follow orders far better than Jala does,” Neph said with a wink toward her.
“I’m more of a cat person, I suppose,” Jala sniffed and shook her head at the three of them.
“Some of us are as you say, Lord Hai’dia, but not all of us. There are some on this island that would welcome change,” Sir
ena said quietly as she moved toward the door. “I will pass your words along, Ash, and tell your friends to expect you after the feast,” she said as she disappeared once more into the halls of the keep.
“You didn’t have to insult her like that. My mother is not at all what you described and neither am I,” Ash said, his gaze upon Valor and the smile no longer present on his face.
“Words, Spook. Those are nothing but words. If you want me to believe it, then prove it,” Valor shot back.
“I’m trying to, Valor,” Ash said with a sigh and shook his head sadly. “I just can’t seem to get far enough past your prejudice to do it quickly.”
The night was brightly starlit and the scent of a thousand flowers filled the air. The memories of her first wedding stirred in her mind with such vibrancy it was almost as if she were there. We sat for hours simply talking and I knew with every fiber of my being that he was the one I wanted to wake up beside every morning. Finn’s dark green eyes rose in her mind and the smoke filled hall faded to nothing more than noise. The memory of his smile and the warmth of his skin brought a faint smile to her lips and glassiness to her eyes. Vezradesh. That single word that only he used, that meant so much when he spoke it.
The image faded as someone at the roughhewn table jostled her while reaching for more ale and shattered the illusion she had built to block out the present. With a heavy sigh, Jala looked around her to ensure she hadn’t blocked out anything of importance. Jexon sat on her left, already deep in his cups and laughing with those seated close by him. Another man that no one had bothered to introduce her to, sat to her right. It had been him that had pulled her back from her memories to face this.
Jala glared at him, knowing full well he couldn’t see the expression on her face. No one could. As it turned out, matron’s fashions on Seravae were the same attire Sirena wore. A long modest dress that showed no hint of skin or the figure beneath, complete with a long veil to cover her face and hair. It had been a chore in itself to tame her curls enough that no hint of them would show. She thought that would be the most difficult part of the attire until they had arrived at the feast. She wasn’t permitted to remove the veil to eat or drink, and she had yet to master the art of getting whatever she was trying to put in her mouth without getting some on the veil first. After the first droplets of wine had stained the fabric and Jexon had made mockery of it, she had simply given up. She really didn’t have much of an appetite now anyway.
Her gaze wandered across the room to settle on the small table where her friends were seated. Neph was keeping a close eye on the other occupants of the room while Ash held Legacy and spoke quietly with his mother. Valor, however, was paying attention to nothing beyond his flask of brandy. His food sat untouched, as did his glass of Seravae wine, and his eyes never seemed to move beyond his part of the table. Everyone was smiles and laughter echoed through the gardens. The music was nearly as sweet as the wine they were drinking and no matter where I looked the night was filled with celebration. Pushing the memory of Firym back once more, Jala looked around the dark stone hall and nearly laughed at the comparison. Those that sat at the table with her husband were celebrating, that was true, but everywhere else the mood was much different. Jala could see several people glaring openly at her or her companions. Others seemed deep in plotting and then a smaller crowd seemed bored by the whole ordeal.
The laughter beside her rose in volume and the sound of a chair being pushed back loudly drew her gaze back to her husband. Jexon was standing and wobbling slightly on his feet. With a grin to his companions, he reached down and grabbed her roughly by the arm, half-dragging her from her chair. Jala stood in confusion, wondering if he was going to give a speech or if they were retiring. By the Divine, she hoped they weren’t retiring from the feast. She had been praying the man would be so drunk he would pass out before they left the hall.
“What is going on?” she asked in a voice pitched for his ears alone. She doubted he would answer. So far he hadn’t spoken a single word to her directly.
With a swift kick Jexon sent the chair he had been seated in shuddering across the floor to hit the wall behind him drawing the attention of everyone in the room with the noise. All eyes were on them as he pulled Jala roughly over in front of him and pushed hard on her back. With a sharp gasp, Jala caught herself on the table bracing both hands between the pitchers of ale and filthy plates. She felt his hand tugging at her dress in the back and her breath caught in her throat. For the first time since she had dressed for her wedding she was grateful for the veil that was hiding her expression of shock and humiliation. Her mouth dropped open and she started to pull away until she remembered her vow to the bastard behind her. She had sworn obedience in return for his protection of Merro. He was testing her with this. Swallowing a sob, Jala dropped her head forward and tried to ignore the jeers of encouragement that echoed through the hall. He meant to consummate their marriage here in the hall with her bent over the table like a tavern whore, and there wasn’t a damned thing she could do about it without breaking her vow.
“You are a breath away from death, Jexon. I will not simply sit here and watch you rape her, you son of a bitch.” Valor’s voice rose above all other noise in the hall and Jala looked up to find him on his feet with a hand on his sword hilt.
“It’s not rape, boy. She married me, remember,” Jexon returned, his voice thick with drink. More calls of encouragement rang out along the table and she felt him tugging more roughly at her dress as he tried to find flesh beneath the long folds of cloth.
“You are outnumbered thirty to one in this room and half-drunk, boy. Sit down before you fall on your own sword,” Scythe called out loudly and more laughter filled the room.
“Thirty to two and I’m sober,” Neph declared as he stood from his chair and flexed his fingers. A long slender blade of shimmering white steel appeared in his hands as he regarded Scythe with a wicked smile. “There has been quite a bit of debate over the years about who is more formidable, a Soulblade or a Spellblade. Continue and we will find the answer.”
“Please don’t. I gave my word to obey,” Jala said in the steadiest voice she could manage. Her throat was tight with unshed tears and despite her words about not feeding fear she knew Lutheron was getting a healthy dose from her at the moment. No matter how much she loved them for speaking up for her, she would rather face Jexon humiliating her than watch her two closest friends fight for her honor against these odds.
“I didn’t swear shit to the bastard,” Valor replied hotly, his dark blue eyes locked on Jexon. Thunder rang across the stones as the weather rose to match the Stormlord’s temper. A few nervous murmurs broke through the hall amidst the jeers. These people were island born and they knew how dangerous storms could be.
“Your call, Jexon. Are we going to have a nice peaceful wedding feast and you keep your pants on? Or are we going to have a blood bath and a hurricane?” Neph called, his tone filled with warning.
“Let’s settle it now Jexon. Fight me, just the two of us. As Scythe said, I’m half-drunk and you are the Lord Reaver. I should be easy to silence,” Valor challenged, his hand never leaving his sword hilt.
“I won’t have blood spilled at my wedding,” Jexon sighed and his grip on her relaxed as he stepped away.
“You god damned craven, fight me! You aren’t going to run again are you?” Valor’s words brought the hall to absolute silence. There were few things more despised in Seravae than cowardice.
Jexon stepped another pace back from her and shook his head. “What did you just say, boy?” he asked in a voice that was likely meant to intimidate. If so the attempt failed on Valor.
“You don’t remember me, Jexon? I didn’t know your name at the time but I remember your face. You want me to refresh your memory or do you want to draw your blade?” Valor called back, his voice filled with mockery.
“You are obviously mistaken, boy. You have never been to Seravae. Of that I’m certain and I have not left the isles aside f
rom councils. You are drunk and it is about to get you killed,” Jexon said with disgust.
“It’s only a matter of time before your blood is on my sword Jexon. I will find you when you have nothing to hide behind and you will have no choice but to face me. With every insult you show Jala you bring that day closer. Remember that, you fucking coward, and perhaps it will motivate you to treat her with respect,” Valor called, his hand finally moving from the hilt of his sword.
Silently, Jala pushed herself back away from the table, her eyes locked on Valor who looked ready to face the entire Seravae nation if need be. It wasn’t his friendship I sacrificed, Jala realized sadly. It was his faith in me.
Blind. So gods-be-damned blind, Marrow muttered quietly in her mind.
Chapter 27
Merro
The world beyond her window was one made of chaos. Everywhere she looked, people rushed by in preparation for the coming march. “I’ve had my people back for less than three months and now I’m sending them to war,” Jala said quietly.
And they are going willingly because none of them think too highly of life as an Avanti slave, Marrow replied smoothly.
Jala’s eyes settled on the dark form of her father and she closed her eyes. “What if Jexon refuses to let me go. How can I spare them from death if I’m not there?” The question had filled her mind since the first scout reports of Avanti movement had arrived. In her planning, she had never once guessed that she might be left behind. Jexon, however, didn’t even like to let her leave the house on simple errands.
Her contact with her friends had been limited as well by his command. Jexon didn’t like her male friends to visit the house and she had barely seen Wisp more than twice since her return to Merro. That part had been Jala’s doing, though. The looks Jexon gave Wisp made her skin crawl and she didn’t want to see her friend hurt. Jala knew full well how rough Jexon’s attention could be and the thought of the delicate Fae staggering away from one of his blows made her sick. She had kept her word, though, and remained obedient, despite how much she missed her freedom. Now she was watching as he kept his promise to protect Merro.
The Elder Blood Chronicles Book 3 From the Ashes Page 41
