Knight Protector: a Star Kingdom novel

by Buroker, Lindsay

  Andreas laughed nervously and stepped away from Jorg.

  Tristan hated that this petty conversation was happening in front of Sebastian’s remains. He longed to pray and say a few final words—silently, not where anyone could overhear him—and then flee the estate before the rest of the Hanh family came after him with pitchforks.

  Before Andreas had to figure out a response to Jorg’s suggestion, which may or may not have been made in jest, King Jager strode toward the coffin. Eight humorless bodyguards in combat armor trailed him, DEW-Tek rifles gripped in their hands.

  Tristan made himself lift his chin and wait like a knight, not like a criminal fearing a firing squad.

  “Leave us, boys.” Jager waved for Jorg and Andreas to move along.

  Tristan wished he could move along, all the way back to Zamek City and the knight headquarters, where he would hopefully be given a new assignment, a way to get his mind off his mentor’s death, and a final chance to prove himself before his year was up.

  Jager looked him up and down, his face difficult to read.

  Tristan bowed deeply, keeping his hands far away from his pertundo—he’d only worn it because it was part of a knight’s formal uniform. Thankfully, the bodyguards stayed several paces back and didn’t appear concerned for their monarch’s life.

  “You’ve spoken to the lawyer.” Jager made it a statement, not a question.

  “Yes, Your Majesty. And as I was trying to tell Andreas—”

  “Lord Andreas,” Jager interrupted coolly. His gaze wasn’t as cruel and mocking as his son’s, but it was far from friendly.

  Tristan should have known better. He’d spent too much time training on the estate here, growing accustomed to addressing Sebastian’s family on a first-name basis.

  “Lord Andreas,” he agreed. “I told him I’d be happy to sign the estate over to him. Anything Sebas—Sir Hanh left me. I never wanted anything from him—he’s already given me so much. I just want to be a knight and serve the crown.” He bowed again—not, he told himself firmly, sucking up.

  It was true, after all, though it was more that Tristan had wanted to become a knight because they were brave and honorable warriors—everything his father was not—than out of a desire to serve Jager. He did want to serve the people and protect his home world from any aggressors from the other systems. He wanted to do work that mattered. He wanted to matter.

  “That’s good. I’ll have the lawyer draw up the paperwork. In the meantime, I understand you have a month left in your probationary period.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.” Tristan stood up straight, though he didn’t presume to look Jager in the eyes. He didn’t presume to breathe.

  “These are contentious times, and we are in need of good men. Loyal men. And your record has been satisfactory this last year.”

  It wasn’t heartfelt praise, but Tristan allowed himself hope. “Thank you.”

  “But your work has all been here on Odin, under the watchful eyes of Sir Hanh or another senior knight.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  “Knights are expected to go all over the Twelve Systems, to be my eyes and ears, and to act to protect the interests of the crown. They need to be trustworthy and capable of making smart decisions, even when they’re alone for months without supervision.”

  Did Jager have some special mission in mind? Tristan would welcome the chance to show that he could be trusted, that he could shine out there on his own.

  “I’m ready to prove myself, Your Majesty.”

  “Good. I have a spy mission in mind that I believe you would be perfect for.”

  Perfect for? Tristan leaned forward. Did Jager know all about his abilities? How skilled he was with weapons and unarmed combat? How hard he’d had to work to be accepted when nobody except Sebastian had wanted him to pass the exams?

  “Since your father is a known criminal, I don’t think anyone would have a hard time believing that you might be tempted to that life too.”

  Tristan didn’t let his shoulders slump with disappointment, even though he wanted to. It wasn’t his abilities that Jager believed in but his father’s reputation?

  “We will circulate a story that you tricked your way into the knighthood, were caught, and were kicked out. Perhaps you even stole something and fled the system, hotly pursued by real knights.” Jager waved indifferently.

  Tristan wanted to protest that he was a real knight, but if this ruse got him a chance to prove himself…

  “Now, you’re down on your luck, out of money, and scrambling to find any work that pays. Which is why you’ll be entering one of the monthly gladiator competitions that Sultan Shayban in System Stymphalia hosts. He’s one of the wealthiest and most influential rulers in the Miners’ Union, and he regularly recruits the winners of those battles for security positions. Our spy in his palace tells me that the next winner, should he be deemed suitable, will be offered the position of bodyguard to his favorite daughter, Princess Nalini.”

  Tristan listened intently, not letting himself be daunted by the idea of traveling alone to another star system for the first time, or having to beat out countless warriors who might be cybernetically enhanced or genetically engineered—something that wasn’t allowed in the Kingdom.

  “Am I to spy on her for Royal Intelligence?” Tristan asked.

  “To some extent—you’ll report anything of interest to our current spy in the palace—but mostly, you’re going to ensure she doesn’t decide to run away from the marriage that her father and I are arranging.”

  “Marriage to whom?”

  “Prince Jorg.”

  Tristan struggled to keep his expression neutral. The idea of being someone’s bodyguard didn’t bother him, but being her keeper? Her captor?

  But this was the path to the career he’d dreamed about since he’d been a boy. He took a deep breath and said, “I am prepared to take on this mission, Your Majesty.”

  “See that you excel at it, so that I have no reason to doubt your loyalty and trustworthiness.” Jager’s eyes narrowed to dangerous slits, and Tristan had no doubt that there would be consequences if he failed. “If you ensure that Nalini is safe and ready to marry my son later this year, you have my word that you’ll officially be made a knight.”

  “Thank you, Your Majesty.” Tristan pushed aside his feelings of unease. The nobility—royalty—were used to arranged marriages. It wasn’t as if he would personally be responsible for destroying this girl’s dreams. “I will do all that you ask of me. You can trust me.”

  3

  Present day, Stardust Palace

  “Sergeant Habib.” Nalini waved to flag down the palace’s assistant chief of security.

  What luck to have spotted him on the way out of the arena. She was still reeling from all the blows—and not the ones the gladiators had rained down on each other.

  Not only was she to be stuck with a marriage she didn’t want, but she also had to deal with some strange bodyguard in her home, a home she hadn’t had to share with anyone except Devi since she’d moved into the private suite eight years earlier. And the man—Tristan, she reminded herself—would be along with her on her private yacht for her upcoming trip, as well, if her father had his way. And he was the sultan so he always had his way.

  “Yes, Your Highness?” Habib smiled, but tension edged his eyes. Or maybe that was wariness.

  Nalini didn’t know how much extra work the security staff was stuck with when her father held these gladiatorial matches, matches full of criminal contenders, but she guessed it was significant.

  “Do you have someone who can show Tristan around the palace? And, er, how to be a bodyguard? I know there’s more to it than being able to beat people up.”

  “Much more,” Habib agreed.

  Inspiration struck. Maybe she need not deal with Tristan until she got back from her trip. Maybe her father could be convinced that Devi had better training and was more reliable. “Bodyguards must need weeks of specialized training, I shou
ld imagine. Will you see to it? I’m in no hurry to get the new man. I have Devi.”

  “I’m sorry, Your Highness.” Habib stepped toward the wall as members of the family streamed out of the royal seats. “But my men and I will be busy kicking the riffraff—today’s losers that your father doesn’t deem worthy of employment—” his lips flattened in disapproval, “—off the station, lest they wander around and start stealing things. There are thirty more than the ones you saw tonight, men who weren’t deemed talented enough to fight. They’ll be escorted to transport ships promptly, but there’s not much I can do about those he decides to hire. Do you know that the thug who won is from the Kingdom? Those men are savages. These events are always so…” Habib spotted her father walking down the passageway, his bodyguards flanking him, and adjusted whatever he’d intended to finish with to, “fraught.”

  “I understand, Sergeant, but surely someone must show him around and what to do.”

  “One of my android assistants is currently escorting him to the baths to wash and change, and then…” Habib extended his hand toward Nalini.

  “I can’t show him around.” A bubble of panic threatened to form in Nalini’s chest. Technically, there was no reason she couldn’t give him a tour of the palace, but then he would be watching her with those intense eyes, and she would feel flustered. She didn’t like to feel flustered. She was composed. Nalini Shayban, renowned real-estate developer who traveled and made deals throughout the system, was always composed. “I mean, he needs training, not simply a tour. There are things bodyguards are expected to do.”

  “Isn’t your android trained in bodyguard duties? Perhaps she can give him the necessary lectures. It’s not as if he needs combat training.” Habib sneered, condemnation in his dark eyes. Did he have some personal reason to be prejudiced toward Kingdom citizens?

  Her father spotted them conversing and veered toward them.

  “I must go, Your Highness. If your new bodyguard is recalcitrant, let me know, and I’ll send men over to fasten electric-shock bracelets around his wrists to ensure he’s a willing employee.” Habib bowed and hurried away.

  Nalini gaped after him. Shock bracelets?

  Were such measures typical for the men her father hired from these gladiatorial games? She’d paid so little attention to them these last years. But surely, he wouldn’t assign her a bodyguard that he hadn’t researched thoroughly and believed would perform adequately. If this one had tried to become a knight, however mendaciously, he ought to have notions of chivalry and honor. However backwards the Kingdom was with their customs, the knights were legendary even outside of their system.

  “Is there a problem, my daughter?” Her father glanced after Habib.

  She didn’t want to get Habib in trouble, but she was a little disgruntled that he was foisting this Tristan off on her. “No, Father. I was simply wondering who would train my new bodyguard. It seems that Sergeant Habib and his staff are quite busy. He suggested that Devi lecture him on proper protocols. I wasn’t sure that would be sufficient. Perhaps he shouldn’t start his duty as my bodyguard until I return from my trip.”

  “Nonsense. You need someone extremely capable to protect you on your journey. As soon as word of the upcoming betrothal gets out, there will be those who object. Have your android instruct the knight as needed.”

  Everyone was convinced that Devi could properly instruct a bodyguard; why couldn’t they be convinced that she could handle being Nalini’s bodyguard?

  Her brother, Samar, ambled up, a yeasty-smelling alcoholic drink in hand. “Your new bodyguard may be in danger, Nalini. Esrin and Fadime said they were going to show him around the palace.”

  “Habib said an android took him to the baths,” Nalini said.

  “Yes, I believe our dear salacious sisters plan to start the tour there.” Samar sipped from his drink, his eyes crinkling with amusement. “Judging by the whispers I overheard, the tour won’t get much past there. Let’s hope they put out a do-not-disturb sign this time. Last month, one of our more aged butlers was scandalized when he walked in on them in the servants’ bath. The male servants’ bath.”

  Nalini grimaced. She hadn’t missed the way Esrin had salivated over the men winning their rounds, especially the good-looking ones, and Tristan qualified for that descriptor.

  Usually, she wouldn’t care one iota if her sisters wanted to drag off the arena winners to have sex with, but a twinge of possessiveness went through her at the thought of them pawing over Tristan. It was silly—she didn’t even want a bodyguard—but he was supposed to be for her, not for them.

  Their father sighed and shook his head at this exchange. “My daughter, you are the only one of my children with a purpose. I do value you for that.” He patted her shoulder, not looking at Samar as he spoke, and walked off down the corridor.

  Nalini also sighed. While it meant something that her father appreciated the hard work she did for the family, she wished he appreciated it enough to give her the gift of choosing her own husband. Or of choosing no husband at all.

  “I have purpose.” Samar spread his hand over his chest.

  “I know you do.” Nalini strode down the corridor at a brisk pace, intending to rescue her new bodyguard from her sisters’ clutches.

  But she soon slowed her pace. What if she went down there and they were already engaged in some lurid sexual act? The butler wasn’t the only one who’d walked in on that before. As they’d proven often, Esrin and Fadime didn’t mind sharing a man if he had promising stamina and vigor. Nalini didn’t want to see that tonight, not when it would involve someone she would have to face throughout her upcoming trip.

  Samar caught up with her, handing his drink to a passing servant. “Do you think if I put more effort into marketing and selling my art, Father would consider my talent worth acknowledging? I’m not bad, you know. I’ve had numerous tutors tell me my paintings are hauntingly beautiful.”

  “They are. And yes, if you made money from them, I think he would see them—and you—in a different light.”

  “I do hate selling. It’s so bourgeois.”

  “Our family runs asteroid mines, Samar. We’re bourgeois.” They took a lift to the lower levels where the servants’ quarters and security-guard barracks were located.

  “Speak for yourself, dear sister. I’m transcendently above all that. I have dual degrees in philosophy and the arts. I’m an ascended being. Practically a god.”

  “Uh huh.” Nalini waved between two marble pillars swathed in gold and crimson silk at the male entrance to the baths. “Would you mind going in there to see if my bodyguard is sexually pinned between my sisters?”

  “What if he’s merely pinned in an asexual manner?”

  “Do you really think Esrin and Fadime can do anything asexually?”

  “Good point. They are not ascended beings.”

  “Tell me about it.” Nalini shooed him toward the door, wanting him to hurry up and stop whatever was going on in there before it started.

  She told herself it wouldn’t matter if it was too late, that who her bodyguard had sex with meant nothing to her. She’d never even spoken to the man. What should she care if he rutted with her sisters all night?

  “Because then he’d be too tired to do his job,” she grumbled.

  That was all she cared about. A proper work ethic.

  Yet, while she waited, she couldn’t help but think of the way Tristan had held her gaze with his intense dark eyes as he bowed to her. And the way he’d clobbered that other brute for being crude. She could like and respect him simply for that. Though if he was the type of man who’d leap into the arms of any woman who flirted with him, she might find it harder to give that respect.

  * * *

  Tristan stood in a hip-deep pool of water large enough for swimming laps, while an android butler held a stack of towels and lectured him on the expectations of the palace staff. While he listened, he tried to decide if he was excited for this mission and this chance to prove hi
mself to Jager, or if he was bewildered by it.

  He’d always known that knights went undercover on spy missions, especially spy missions with the potential for a lot of combat, but he hadn’t envisioned himself in a massive palace as large as many space stations, being instructed by an android as he washed his armpits. He also hadn’t envisioned giant swimming pools—or baths—in space. What would happen if there was a mechanical hiccup, and the palace stopped spinning on its axis and creating artificial gravity? Tons of droplets of water would go on an interesting and messy journey.

  “…must bow respectfully and address all members of the royal family as Your Highness,” the android was saying in a monotonous voice. “I am certain you will receive further specific instruction on your bodyguard duties, but you will also be expected to give your life if necessary to save that of your charge, Princess Nalini.”

  “I hope it’s all right if I react quickly enough that neither of us need give our lives,” Tristan said.

  The android gazed blandly at him, blinking at regularly programmed intervals.

  Tristan eyed the dozens of soap, lotion, and shampoo dispensers, wash cloths, and scrub brushes on racks and shelves along one wall of the pool. One bathing implement looked like a cross between a scrub brush and a sonic toothbrush. It had vibrated vigorously when he turned it on, so he’d decided not to risk his armpits on it.

  “When you are finished, I will trim your hair and beard,” the android stated. “There is a uniform on that bench for you.”

  Tristan eyed a stack of clothing dominated by black leather. He hoped it didn’t chafe and that he could move freely. Already, he missed the comfortable robes that knights wore around their headquarters near the castle in Zamek City.

  As he exited the pool and padded naked toward a stool, prepared to let the android trim him, the door opened. At first, he didn’t think anything of it, since several male servants had come and gone while he’d been bathing, but two giggling women walked in and headed straight for him.