The Elder Blood Chronicles – Book Three(159)

“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.