The Prince's Suitor ManxMan

Chapter 15: Part 2

Hands clasped behind his back and eyes straining in every direction all at once, Jaicous stood as still as stone. The absence of weaponry hung heavy on his belt and burnt hotly at the forefront of his mind. If Osiris decided he fancied flesh instead of rabbit, he'd be no wiser to stop him.

Servants brought out the steaming first course, still sizzling, from the same door through which Jaicous and the Prince had been led. Gadarian custom demanded utmost respect towards the host and as Jaicous expected, the Lords, but not the Ladies, stood rigid until all plates had graced the table. Jaicous did not recognise any of the Lords at the table, and although courteous in their manners, something about their movements was false – almost fake. He watched. Silent, unsure, their eyes flickering towards one another, almost as if they needed reassurance on their act.

The uneasiness within did not settle as the night wore on. Twenty courses of national foods and the 'finest' Gadarian Ale, as it was proclaimed, passed by. At first he thought they ought to poison his Prince, but General Osiris ate beside the Prince and, much to Jaicous' frustration, sampled from his plate. Poison wasn't the intention and yet there was an intention for this falsehood, he just didn't know what it was yet. And he would find out. Jaicous clenched a fist against his leathers.

The night wore on, and as the sun fell from the sky, the stone walls became a mass of shadows which flickered in cold clusters, a nightmarish show before his eyes. Servants scurried from their posts with sticks of fire and lit more and more candles until the glow was almost unbearable to witness.

Long after the last course, the group of Regals became increasingly merry, until Jaicous himself was, and most inappropriately so for Gadarian customs, invited to sit at the table by two of the ladies. From the jewels they bore, he knew they were high standing. He could not say no for fear he would cause unwitting attention upon himself. He dared not say no, and so he found himself perched upon a chair previously occupied by a Lord with sudden sickness, and thrust between two women; one large and overbearing, and the other seemingly quiet. Like their male counterparts, both were intoxicated. This was not foreign to him, although in Aishion women were less likely to divulge, and they traditionally sat besides their husbands. These women were alone, and yet he did not believe they were unmarried - nor unsullied.

"I've never met an Aishion soldier before," the larger women leered in perfect, crisp Gadarian. She was a pure native and unbeknown to her, Jaicous knew the language fluently. He could pass as a native himself.

Jaicous smiled courteously. "I'm sorry, I don't speak Gadarian," he replied in Aishia, making certain that he forced his accent more than necessary and shrugged his shoulders for extra effect.

Both women fell into a flurry of giggles and the younger, quieter woman's hand fell delicately upon his arm. Her nails were bright red and sharpened into points. Like claws, Jaicous observed.

"Don't overwhelm him Glacia," she said and her lips curled upwards, until a set of pearly teeth gleamed. Slowly, her hand moved, up and down, caressing his wrist. "We sharn't frighten him so quickly." A tiny giggle escaped her mouth but she was not looking at Jaicous. Her eyes were for another. They weren't interested in him, it dawned on him. A breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding gusted out with much relief, until he saw a man staring at him, face clenched. Across the table, the man kicked back his chair and stood. He was clothed in complete black. The sign of mourning. No surprise, he'd been drinking too, and quite a lot.

He smashed his drink onto the table and liquid slushed out in a wave, soaking the man sat beside him. "This is an absolute disgrace!" the mourner shouted, the fire in his eyes for Jaicous only. "Enemies at our table, drinking our wine, sharing our meat, that's bad enough! And now we're expected to watch them cohort with our women? I won't have it!" The noise died away.

Jaicous had co-horted in neither way nor manner, but it did not matter in the eyes of the admirer. Now all attention was pointed their way, the woman let her arm drop away as if it had never happened and slunk back into her chair - an innocent.

Jaicous looked to Raphion, who was half out of his chair. Then Osiris lifted an arm and put it on Raphion's wounded shoulder. Raphion struggled, for half a second, torn emotions clear to see, then turned and whispered something to the General. The General mused something over, whatever Raphion had said was important.

"Sit down," the General snapped to the man in black, "it is only because you morn that I grant you this show of mercy. Return to your seat, Lord Asher. You've made yourself enough of a fool tonight, staring at my niece. Seize your tongue or I'll happily seize it for you."

The man in black looked for a moment as if he would retaliate, but a sly shake from the women next to him, which Jaicous caught from the corner of his eye, deterred him. Instead, the man clenched his jaw and stalked out, a flurry of servants following in his wake.

"The rest of you, get out." Osiris commanded and within minutes the hall was still. Jaicous remained. He was sure they wouldn't let him leave, and so he had not tried. Another sword at his throat was not something he wanted to encourage.

Two guards stood at the door, but they too, and most surprisingly so, were told to leave.

Then there was three.

Osiris pointed at Jaicous and spoke in perfect Aishia. "You – lock that door." Jaicous nodded, unsure if he could trust his voice right now and locked the door as was bid. They were in the Wolf's Den, door firmly locked, and the wolf ready to pounce.

Quite obviously, Osiris was certain in his safety, certain Raphion and his Aishion soldier would not be enough to overpower him, certain that they would not try. Coincidentally, he was right. They could not attack Osiris, nor harm him, without consequences. If they killed him, if they even could, they could not escape. They would not leave this room alive without Osiris, who would need to be among the living, escorting them.

"Are we alone?" Raphion asked in Gadarian.

"Yes..." General Osiris said, and looked to Jaicous. "I will have your man sent back to his friends. He appears ready to soil himself."

Jaicous had not realised his inside churning had appeared on his face. But Osiris was wrong. He was not terrified, he was ready.

"No," Raphion said.

"We must be certain in this-" Osiris began, and spoke in a strange and informal tone. His wolfish grin had gone, so far gone that the thought of any grin on his face would be impossible to believe. In its place, his face was stern.

Raphion shook his head. "He is trusted. He cannot speak Gadarian."

A/N as of this point, Raphion has not heard, nor does he know, that Jaicous speaks fluent Gadarian. I can't remember if I already added this in, if so it'll be removed from the previous chapters when I finally edit everything!!

"Are you sure?"

"I am more than sure," Raphion said. Osiris said no more, but did not look convinced.

"Come, you remember where the study is, don't you?" Osiris said.

A flicker of a smile appeared on Raphion's mask. "Of course."

Raphion took the lead, Osiris followed second, and Jaicous wandered after them, last. He felt lost. He was lost, no, he was confused. Very confused. He had a dozen questions, with no way to ask them and his questions were only about to increase.