“Now. The rules.”
Yes, of course, they hadn’t covered them off. Leander put down the sandwich he was holding and leaned back in his chair, waiting with apprehension.
“There are two and they are simple. Keep quiet andlistenwhen I tell you to do something. Do this and we just might get through this foul situation unscathed...”
Leander doubted that very much. He had last looked at his slave brand a few hours ago and he was still constantly reminded of it every time his shifted his position and his clothing brushed against it. It was painful and raw, and not easy for him to forget. He said none of this to Jarryn, though he knew that Jarryn was aware because he could feel the prince on the periphery of his mind.
He watched Jarryn’s face crease in dismay.
“Sorry. There will be no further…” He trailed off, shook his head and considered. “What I mean to say is this situation is not an indefinite, nor permanent, arrangement.”
The prince made for the door and then, with his hand poised on the door handle, he turned his head to look back at Leander. The demigod watched as Jarryn’s tongue ran over his top teeth before speaking. “We leave the city tomorrow,” he announced.
Leander blinked and opened his mouth to speak butJarryn beat him to it as he continued to explain his grand plan.
“Once we are out of the country, the slavery laws will no longer apply and I will give you your freedom.”
“Why can’t you just do it now?” Leander asked sullenly.
“Because the king will not allow you to roam free in his kingdom any longer. If I free you, you will be auctioned off to the next highest bidder. We leave, and it can be done. Until then… remember the rules you will abide by. This nightmare will soon be over for the both of us. Govern yourself accordingly.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
They had been travelling for five days. Initially the entire group had been mounted, save Leander, who had been chained in a prone position to the horse-drawn cart. After the first morning of travel, Leander’s left side had become numb, but it was the only position he could hold for any length of time without putting pressure on his very sore right thigh, where his slave brand was still raw and healing.
In the first few days of Leander’s new life as a slave, the subjectively large brand had been treated with a poultice by the king’s personal physician. Despite this careful attention, the skin around the wound was still an angry red, vivid and threatening infection with each passing hour.
Jarryn hadn’t wanted to risk Leander falling off his horse with a fever, which was why he found himself in the cart. As well as mentioning something about ‘keeping up appearances’ and so had ordered that Leander rest andrecover his strength while they were still within the boundaries of the lands governed by Vyrican Law.
By the fifth day, Leander felt recovered enough and had practically begged Jarryn to let him ride. His pride had been hit hard enough and, whilst no one had said anything within his hearing, Leander’s paranoia was such that he knew Jarryn’s surprisingly large retinue of soldiers were judging him.
Jarryn had acquiesced to his pleading request. Now, Leander was happy to find himself mounted and riding amidst the soldiers. It almost felt normal, except for the knowledge that he would remain under constant guard.
Not that Leander had any intention of fleeing. Jarryn was many things, but he was not a liar (and if anyone could judge that trait in a man’s character, it was Leo). Jarryn had said he would set Leander free, and the demigod whole-heartedly believed him.
All horses plodded along at a sedate pace as if they had nowhere in particular to be. Leander wished they would move faster, but Jarryn kept insisting that their relaxed pace would deter any unfriendly eyes from coming to the wrong conclusion. Leander accepted this eventually and, as they grew closer to the nation’s eastern borders, his mood improved significantly. They were not far from Eamore and his freedom.
The soldiers in Jarryn’s retinue, which numbered thirty odd, were good company too. After living in Saeren for the best part of a year, they all spoke the local language passably. Though this didn’t matter much—as a demigod, Leander had been raised on multiple languages as thepantheon did not recognise mortal political borders to define their influence and power.
Still, it was the language that came most easily to Leander, so he didn’t mind when the soldiers insisted on practising that tongue.
The banter between the soldiers, who even had the audacity to involve their prince, reinforced to Leander just how different the cultures of Saeren and Eslirie were. Jarryn allowed the rowdy talk and even encouraged it at times. He threw in his own taunts at his men with an easy smile on his face. He fit right in. And his men, it was becoming increasingly clear, were loyal out of love.
The sun was sinking on the horizon when the captain of Jarryn’s guard slowed to a halt. “I think it best if we camp here for tonight, My Prince. If I remember rightly, there is a clearing just a few hundred feet through those trees.”
Jarryn agreed with a nod of his head and a sergeant was sent forth to scout out the clearing.
While they waited, the conversation continued. “So you never did say, Jarryn”—it was not uncommon to informally address the prince as such—“what’s the first thing you will do when we return to Desanne?”
Leander glanced over at Jarryn, a sharp pang hitting his heart. Jarryn would eventually return and step up to his rightful place as ruler—Leander would see it through. But he found that he would miss the prince. Because there was no way that Jarryn would tolerate his company when he learnt the truth of Leander’s involvement in his flight from Eslirie.
“Well, I’m sure you all want to hear about some concubineI left behind.” There were jeers from his men and Jarryn grinned. “But truth be told what I am missing most is a nice and juicy fresh mango. Saeren’s imports just don’t hit the same way.”
The jeers grew louder, some soldiers groaned before laughter broke out among the men.
“The mangoes aren’t as juicy, sure. But the boys, they just aren’t built the same way, wouldn’t you say, Your Highness?” one of the men called over from his position at the rear of the formation. Some branches of government and religion tended to imagine that the gods cared very much what went on in a mortal’s bedroom, but Desanne and Vyrica did not have this issue, embracing a variety to sexualities and identities in a way other nations across Cariun did not.
There were general nods of agreement and another soldier chimed in, saying, “Though the ladies... they know a thing or two and no mistake about that.”
