Dust in His Hands: The Binding Saga, #2

By Sandy Frediani

A man alone...

King Tov stayed strong while fate took away those he loved most, one by one, but the loss of his son just might break him. He'll give up everything, even his kingdom, for his son's return home.

　

A decision made in anger...

Rebelling against his father, Prince Shay sought freedom for a new life. What he encountered was more terrifying than his worst nightmares. He'll give up everything, including his life, for the chance to return home.

　

Mature Content- This book contains explicit content not intended for persons under the age of 18. May include sex, alcohol and/or drug use, and possible triggers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sandy Frediani
• Release date: Jul 21, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386279624

Book preview

Dedication

Charlie Wells

1942 - 2013

For your friendship, encouragement and confidence.

You are missed.

Jeff Bedard

For the crazy conversations and for just being you.  Miss you, Flyboy.

Acknowledgements

Many have helped to bring this book to life, far too many to name individually.  I’d like to thank the members of the Indie Writers Cooperative, a Facebook group, for their help and support.  I’d also like to thank those friends who offered support and encouragement in those times I was ready to quit and leave this story sitting on a hard drive.  Many thanks to the Beta readers who had the first chance to see the story – typos and all – and who provided input to improve the story.  Special thanks to Cait McCarren who Beta read the most intense parts.  Thanks to the talented Mariah Sinclair for the beautiful cover.  Last, but certainly not least, my humble thanks to you – the reader – for taking a chance on an unknown author.  You give the stories life.

Chapter 1

A Willing Participant

DARKNESS HELD THE EARLY morning when Tov donned his dark blue linen shirt, black breeches and pulled on his boots.  His sword hung from his belt.  He doubted that he’d need it, but it was better to be prepared.  Quietly he packed a saddlebag with extra clothing and slung it over his shoulder.  He saw few people as he walked through the palace corridors.  Slipping out a servant’s entrance, he made his way to the stables and saddled his horse.  He grinned as he tightened the girth.  Even the stable hands were still asleep.  He mounted up and rode through the deserted streets.  He wouldn’t have any trouble at the gates.  The guards were used to his early morning rides and he waved as he rode by.  The difference this time was he wouldn’t be back soon.  Once away from the City, he nudged his mount into a canter on the empty road which led to the distant forest.

His mother would be upset he’d struck out on his own, but this was something he needed to do.  He realized that after she’d told him about the Forest People and the Ceremony.  He’d left a note explaining his decision.  He’d also written that he intended to stay a few extra days if allowed.  He wanted, needed, to know more about his father’s people and his father.  He didn’t know if he’d meet his father.  It wasn’t likely, but he harbored a tiny hope.  He glanced at his surroundings and knew he wouldn’t be met where the main road cut through the Forest, so he took a side road, searching for a place to cut through the fields without damaging the crops.  Shortly after midday, he found a narrow path winding through the tall grain and followed it.

There was a broad grassy break between the fields and the Forest, as if both were cautious about being too close to one another.  He halted near the trees and dismounted.  The day was warm and he stepped into the shade to wait.  A half hour passed and nothing happened.  Not knowing what else to do, he removed the saddle bags and unsaddled the horse, tucking the saddle and bridle out of sight under a bush.  Swinging the saddlebags over his shoulder, he looked at the line of trees in front of him.  Right or left?  Which way to go?  He shrugged his shoulders and turned left.

Walking along the edge of the Forest for nearly an hour, he was entertaining the idea of turning back when a man stepped from behind a tree and into his path.  Startled, he stopped and stared.  The saddlebags slipped from his shoulder, hitting the ground with a soft thud.  Taller by only half a hand, the man was muscular and wore snug leather breeches and soft leather boots.  A sheathed knife was tucked into his belt.  Arms crossed over a bare chest, the man stood as still as the trees.  The gold band wrapped around his upper arm glittered where the sun struck it.  Long hair, pulled back and tied with a leather thong, was as black as his own.  The face that looked back at him was his own, albeit older.  His eyes met the stranger’s.  They were as black as his own.  His heart pounded in his chest.  His... father?  Before he could voice his thoughts, the stranger turned and vanished into the forest.

Tov knew he was to follow.  He picked up his saddlebags and slung them over his shoulder, then pressed into the Forest.  The stranger waited not far away.  Once he caught up, the stranger led him down a narrow trail.  Deeper they went, weaving a convoluted path until his guide suddenly stopped.  Tov drew to a halt.  The man pulled a wide leather strip from a pouch.  The blindfold, Tov thought.  He closed his eyes and stood immobile as the blindfold was wrapped around his head and tied.  In the disorienting darkness, the saddlebags were lifted from his shoulder, then a large warm hand grasped his own and he was tugged forward.  It was difficult walking blind, but his guide made it as easy as possible.  He was led over and around unseen obstacles.  They walked for a long time, winding round and round.  He was thoroughly disoriented, as he knew he would be, when they finally came to a halt.

The summer sun beat down and he knew, even with the blindfold still in place, that they were no longer within the Forest.  The blindfold slipped away.  He blinked and squinted at the sudden brightness, then raised a hand to shade his eyes.  They stood at the edge of a clearing.  Scattered, almost hidden among the trees, were the tents of the camp’s inhabitants.  People were quietly engaged in their work.  A small group of children raced silently across the grass.  His mother had explained the reason for the silence, but it was still unnerving.  If he didn’t hear the wind in the leaves and the birds twittering in the branches, he’d have thought he’d lost his hearing.  His guide returned his saddlebags and walked toward the oak tree standing alone in the center of the clearing.

Tov followed.  He eyed the fur lined leather cuffs that lay in the shade beneath the tree.  Two were joined by a short golden chain.  He set the saddlebags on the ground beside the cuffs.  Unbuckling his belt, he let it and his sword drop.  Pulling off his shirt, he folded it and set it down in the grass.  Tugging off his boots, he set them beside the shirt.  Almost defiantly, he glanced at his guide and tugged the strings of his breeches.  He pushed them down over his trim hips and let them drop.  Carefully folding them, he set them on top of his shirt.  Unashamed of his nudity, he faced his guide.

Rasha swallowed his grin with difficulty.  His half-brother was full of surprises.  First he’d come alone and then accepted the necessity of the blindfold.  Now, he stripped without hesitation.  He knew the young man had spirit, recalling the first time he’d seen him seven years ago.  It was doubtful Tov would remember as he and their father had been in disguise.  Even at twelve, he showed signs of the man he’d grow into and now at nineteen it was evident he had.  Sadness welled inside.  He wished their father could see his son now.  Triana had done a good job raising the boy.  Leaning over, he picked up the wrist cuffs.  Before he could open the lacing on a cuff, the young man moved.

Tov stepped beneath the lowest branch of the small oak, estimating the distance and reached up.  He wrapped his hands around the limb and spread his feet apart.  His guide grinned and dropped the cuff back on the ground.  The man brought his hand up near his neck and motioned.  Tov was puzzled.  What was it the man wanted?  The man drew a finger around the front part of his neck and looked pointedly at Tov’s chest.  Tov looked down and suddenly realized... the pendant.  Releasing his hold on the tree branch, he grasped the golden chain and hesitated.  He’d worn it since he was a small child and wasn’t sure he could remove it.  He looked up at the man who gestured again.  Giving a mental shrug, Tov carefully pulled the chain upwards.  He was surprised when it lifted easily over his head and slipped off.  Tov watched the oval pendant sway on the chain for a moment, then held it out toward the man.

Rasha looked at the golden oval, recalling the first time he’d seen it, the day his father had nearly died so he could give it to his infant son... the son who now stood here, a young man.  He gestured toward the neat pile of discarded clothing.  Once Tov had deposited the pendant on top of the pile and returned to his position beneath the tree limb, Rasha scooped up the clothing, boots and sword and strode away toward the tents.

Tov watched his older double carry his clothing toward one of the tents which blended into the trees at the edge of the clearing.  He felt more naked without the pendant than he did without his clothing.  Still amazed he’d been able to remove it, he shifted his grip on the branch and waited.  There’d be time to wonder about that later.

Soon people began to gather in front of the tree.  Male and female, they ranged from child to adult, all similar in looks and build.  Most had the same black hair and eyes he did, but scattered throughout were those with sandy blond or brown hair and lighter eyes.  Silently, they gathered around him.  He held his tongue and his stance, but couldn’t stop the blush that bloomed.  No matter how he rationalized, it was difficult to stand naked before an entire camp full of people.  He watched as people moved aside, opening a path for the ancient woman hobbling toward him.  Shifting his weight more evenly on his feet, he adjusted his grip on the branch.  Despite his discomfiture, he’d face her with his dignity intact.

The Dhe’an moved slowly, aided by her apprentice.  She was finally getting old, she thought.  This would be the last Ceremony she’d see before leaving this world.  Idina, her apprentice, had wanted her to step aside, but she wouldn’t.  She’d seen this ritual begin with her grandson, seen him finally fall in love and take a wife.  Now his son was here... her great grandson.  She’d see him through this, even though he was unaware of her identity.  She grinned as she hobbled along, bracing herself on Idina’s arm.  From what Rasha had told her, Tov was the very image of his father, with all the pride and strength of both parents.  She halted and looked up at the boy standing beneath the tree.  Rasha was right.

Tov watched the old woman being helped through the small crowd.  Bent by the passage of time, she held a staff in one gnarled hand.  Her hair was snow white and hung loose over her shoulders.  Her face was carved with deep wrinkles, a relief map of experience.  She wore leather and fur with feathers, bits of shells and other unidentifiable objects dangling from her garments with no apparent rhyme or reason.  People moved aside in obvious respect, bowing their heads slightly as she passed by.  When she stopped and looked up at him, he was immediately pulled into the dark fathomless pools of her eyes.  In them he saw wisdom, great age and a twinkle of humor.  Humor?  Was she silently laughing at him?  Anger bubbled up and his brows lowered.  Glaring at her, he knew she saw his anger.  He sensed she saw much, much more than she let on.  Her eyes never left his as she continued forward and he had the distinct feeling that she saw deep into the depths of his soul.  The knowledge frightened him, yet strangely set him at ease.  He trembled slightly and then realized she was now standing within arm’s reach.

Shells and feathers quivering at the tip of her staff, the Dhe’an studied her great grandson closely.  Even though he was uneasy, he refused to turn his gaze away.  Good, very good, she thought.  He had courage.  He’d not be one to back away from a challenge or a duty.  In his eyes she saw his questions begging to be asked, but they’d wait.  She broke eye contact and let her eyes wander down his frame.  He was well formed with a broad chest, flat stomach and trim hips.  His legs were long and corded with muscle.  He was every inch as pleasing to the eye as his father.  Like Brin, maturity would only add to his looks.  Even his manhood was well formed.  The corner of her mouth lifted slightly as she cupped his masculinity in her hand.  Gently she held him, weighing his reaction.

Tov had to exercise all his will not to bolt when the old woman grasped him.  Even with his mother’s preparations he wasn’t quite expecting it.  No hands but his own had touched him there since he was a small child.  It was disconcerting to have a stranger’s hand on that most private part of him.  He knew he was being tested and tightened his grip on the branch.  Soon her hand moved from his privates to his chest, then ran along his arms and legs.  His blush deepened as her appraisal continued.  She moved around to his backside, her fingers always touching, probing.  He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw tightly when her hands parted his cheeks.  He fought not to clench his buttocks, then her hands were gone and he released his breath.  His eyes opened wide when she spoke, her ancient voice like dry leaves rustling in the wind.

Have you been with a woman? she asked.  Her black eyes held his.

Tov knew he wasn’t to speak and knew this was a change from the ritual of which his mother had spoken.  Captured by the old woman’s gaze, he’d tell the truth and knew she’d know if he didn’t.  He also knew he could answer easily without speech.  He shook his head slowly.  No.  The old woman’s eyes glowed in approval.

{He’s untouched,} the Dhe’an said through the mind seek, grinning as she faced the small crowd of people.  {Merel will prepare him, then have him bathed and brought to my tent.}

Rasha nodded.  He and Merel remained behind when the others left.  Rasha crossed his arms over his chest and stood to one side as the black haired woman went down on her knees before his half-brother.  He bit back a grin when Merel took Tov’s dormant shaft in her mouth.  She was very, very good with her mouth.  He watched with amusement as she worked her magic.

Tov’s eyes widened in shock as the woman knelt and took him in her mouth.  What was she....?  He bit back a moan as her tongue flicked along his cock.  He could barely believe what she was doing.  Pleasure flickered through his limbs, spiraling out from where she covered him with her warm mouth.  He trembled.  He wanted to bury his hands in her hair, hold her still and....  He concentrated on the branch over his head.  His grip tightened, loosened and tightened again.  He tore his eyes away from her and gazed at the sky, the leaves of the tree, desperately seeking distraction, but the pleasure she wrought kept pulling him back, threatening to engulf him.  Unconsciously, his hips moved forward pushing himself into her warm mouth.  Clamping his eyes shut only made it more difficult to keep from surrendering.  He clenched his hands tighter around the branch.  His knuckles whitened from the strain and still the pleasure went on.  Desperately, he tried to control the desire flooding his body.  Then he opened his eyes and saw... her.

She stood behind his guide, having stayed behind when the others left.  Her gaze met his and he was stunned by the emotions which surged through him.  Heat, desire, longing.  The need building in his body centered on her.  Their gazes locked and something passed between them.  She was an unknown part of him which had been missing.  He forgot about the woman kneeling in front of him and the man standing nearby.  The woman at his feet renewed her endeavors on his manhood, drawing his attention.  His eyes closed momentarily as he bit back a moan.  Behind his closed lids he still saw the brown haired woman and the thought drew him perilously close to climax.  He shuddered, his body tightening in readiness, but before he could reach the top of that precipice the mouth was mercifully withdrawn.  His knees threatened to buckle.  Beaded with sweat, he held tightly to the branch which was now all that kept him from dropping to the ground.  Panting, his head dipped forward in relief.  He opened his eyes and saw booted feet in the grass before him.  He slowly raised his head and looked into eyes identical to his own.  He shifted his gaze around the man searching, but the brown haired woman was gone.

Rasha looked intently at the young man.  He’d seen the effect Merel had on him, but there was something more.  Something or someone had almost sent the youth out of Merel’s expert control.  He’d have to watch the young man.  In the meantime, there was a bath to take.  He reached down and scooped the linked cuffs from the ground.  Swiftly, he unfastened the chain which bound them together and tucked it in his belt, then unlaced the cuff.  He saw Tov’s mouth open and shook his head to ward off the words.  He grasped Tov’s wrist and fastened the cuff around it.  When the other cuff was fastened, he knelt and laced on the ankle cuffs.  When he stood again, Tov’s eyes were filled with questions.  Instead of answering, Rasha jerked his head toward the river and walked away.

Tov watched the man for a moment and then followed.  If what his mother had told him was right, they’d be heading to a river.  Silently he crossed the clearing, glancing around trying to catch a glimpse of the brown haired woman.  His heart leaped when he saw her helping an older woman near one of the tents.  Elation filled him.  She was so beautiful, he thought.  Her soft brown hair was long, the single braid falling to her hips.  Wearing the same snug leather breeches as others in the camp, a tan shirt was belted at her trim waist.  She was tall and lithe, round where a woman should be round, but she didn’t look soft.  Her bare arms showed definite muscles.  She looked up from her work and their gazes met.  Her eyes were green, he noticed absently.  She smiled and her eyes lit in amusement.  A moment later he hit the tree trunk.

Tov grabbed the tree before he fell and glared at it, wondering how it got in his path.  A noise caught his attention and he saw his guide watching with amusement twinkling in his black eyes.  Tov blushed and pushed away from the tree.  As much as he wanted to turn and look back at the lovely woman, he wouldn’t.  He was embarrassed enough.  Instead, he followed when the man led him onto a narrow path.  They walked in silence, with only the sounds of the forest and Tov’s footfalls intruding.  The trail rose gradually and they stopped on a small rise over the river.  Water lapped calmly at the edge of the cut below.  He looked at the river, then at his guide.  The man turned and walked down the rise.  Tov watched a moment and dove off the edge.

He hit the water cleanly, slipping beneath with hardly a splash.  The sudden cold jolted his senses as he plunged downward, the current caressing his body.  The coolness felt good.  Pushing toward the surface with strong sure strokes, he burst from the water with a gasp and flung his hair from his eyes.  Relief flooded him that the river was deep enough and that he hadn’t gone into a shallow spot.  Pride had driven him to this foolish act, diving into water whose depth was unknown.  He swung his head around, searching.

Nearby a woman stood waist deep, holding a cloth and soap plant in her hands.  Gracefully he swam over and took the soap and cloth from her.  Under her watchful gaze, he scrubbed his body thoroughly, leaving his skin glowing.  Returning the cloth and soap to the woman, he dove beneath the water again rinsing the soap from his skin.  After swimming freely a few moments, he returned to the shallows.  Rising from the cool embrace of the water, he strode onto the sand and wiped the excess water from his body with his hands.  A large drying cloth was pressed into his hands.

He rubbed his face briskly and lifted his eyes to see the young brown haired woman.  His hands stopped as he gazed into her green eyes.  They were the color of new leaves in spring, bright and fresh.  She was within arm’s reach he realized numbly and more beautiful than he first thought.  His wet hair dripped, the cloth held unused in his hands as he stared at her.  He