From the Ashes (The Elder Blood Chronicles, #3)(134)
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.