The Elder Blood Chronicles – Book Three(160)

“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 from 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 f*cking 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.