by J. M. Snyder
“Oh, they won’t,” Berik assured him. “Trust me, Your Highness. My men will prevail.”
“Sounds like your men are failing,” Tovin pointed out with a derisive snort. When Berik glared at him, Tovin smirked. “Is that why we’re here? To pick up the slack?”
“You’re here,” Amery told them, “because I need to consolidate our forces if we’re going to drive these bastards from the kingdom. Lohden—”
The knight looked up from his book; the intense look on his face proved that he’d been following the conversation, however engrossed he’d seemed to be in his studies. “My men are at your command, Your Highness.”
With a smile of thanks, the regent said, “They’re heading east. I want you to cut them off at the druid ruins. Berik, you follow him.”
“What about the westlands?” Berik wanted to know. “The fight’s hot and heavy there. My men are scattered pretty thin across the northern border. If I shift them east, I leave the west open to attack.”
Amery just shook his head. “Giles has the west. Tovin, station your men here, around the castle—”
“What the hell?” Tovin cried.
Amery frowned at the indignation he heard in his lover’s voice. How long had he spent mulling over this plan? Watching himself in the mirror of his father’s shield as he made the suggestion to keep Tovin here—he’d said the words over and over again until they slipped from his lips without a hint of the passion that underlay them. Of all the men in his military, Tovin was the best. That alone was reason to assign him as castellan of the kingdom’s seat. Hoping his voice didn’t betray his other reason for wanting Tovin close, Amery explained, “I need you here with me.”
The look in Tovin’s eyes was hard to meet. “No way,” he announced. “I’m the best knight you have and you know it. Send me to the front. I’ll turn those half-bred bastards around and have them scurrying back to their frozen wasteland in no time.”
“No,” Amery replied. The thought of his lover in battle was too much for him—he couldn’t think of it, wouldn’t. He’d almost died when Giles’s sword cut through Tovin’s mail earlier; how would Amery survive knowing it was he who’d sent Tovin into the thick of battle? “I need you here. What if the Cyrians get this far? Who will protect the throne?”
Who’ll protect me? Amery almost added, but he bit his lip before the words could escape. “Tovin…” He didn’t know if Tovin’s protests were legit or if his lover merely balked because they had an audience. “I need troops stationed here. I need a castellan to oversee our fortifications—”
Tovin rose to his feet in anger. “You know I’d prevail against those barbarians. I’d have them beat in no time.” His deep voice thundered dangerously across the table. “I never thought you’d be one to let your personal feelings for me come before what’s best for your kingdom.”
The entire world seemed to stop at Tovin’s words. Don’t say it, Amery prayed, but part of him wanted Tovin to come out with it, wanted the words to be free. Then there would be no charade, no play-acting, no lies between them. The other knights watched them argue, fascinated; even Lohden pulled his nose out of his book for the occasion.
Amery met Tovin’s heated gaze and could see their lives hanging in the balance within those dark blue depths. On one hand, freedom to love as they would; on the other, this continued farce. Don’t, Amery thought. Please don’t.
But if you do, I swear I will still stand beside you.
Then something in Tovin’s eyes dulled, and Amery knew the knight had lost his nerve. For all his strength and bravery, admitting their affair proved beyond Tovin’s ability.
The regent sighed, more disappointed than he would have thought he’d be. As if he had never hesitated, Tovin continued his rant, choosing the safe route and keeping their secret between the two of them alone. “You don’t like me?” the knight asked. “Fine. You want to argue and fight and bitch at me? Fine. But you’re jeopardizing your people, regent, if you keep me from the front. You know that. I am their best defense—”
“What is best for my people,” Amery spat, bitter, “is that their regent lives. And if you are the best damn knight I have, then you’ll see it is your sworn duty to protect me. Me. This castle is where you’re needed, Sir Tovin. This castle is where you’ll stay.”
“I don’t—” Tovin started.
Weary, Amery cut him off. “I’ll not argue it further.”
Turning from the table, he stalked across the room and called back over his shoulder to the other knights, “Berik, Lohden, the two of you leave for the eastern front at first light. Giles heads west.” At the door he stared back at them, at Tovin, and growled, “Send for your men, Tovin. You’re stationed here.”
“Damn it the hell,” Tovin muttered, loud enough for the regent to hear. With a frustrated growl, he yanked off his gauntlets and threw them onto the table, where they clattered heavily against the solid wood.
Amery suppressed a grin as he left the drawing room.
* * * *
To honor the knights’ arrival at the castle, dinner was a feast held in the large dining hall rarely graced with the regent’s presence. Amery usually took his meals in his own chambers, away from the gossip and giggles of the courtesans who at times almost seemed an extension of the castle itself. Young women flocked to the castle dinners, hoping to catch the regent’s eye; mingled among their number were citizens with grievances they wanted aired, or commoners looking for free handouts, or politically minded men who wanted to bend Amery’s ear with their own biased views. He would much rather avoid the whole lot and eat alone.
Or with Sir Tovin. That would have been nice.
But he could think of no excuse as to why the knight had to join him in his own chambers, just him and no others. Or rather, no excuse that wouldn’t raise suspicions. He would have to wait until later in the evening before he could get the knight alone, and let his touch and his kisses soothe Tovin’s wounded pride.
He hated waiting.
During the meal, Amery sat in the middle of a long banquet table, perched on an ornate chair that grew uncomfortable as the evening lagged. On either side of him sat his advisors, men who had been his father’s before him, and who still spoke of King Adin in the present tense, as if his disappearance were nothing more than an extended trip to the far reaches of his kingdom. These same men had recently begun to poison Amery’s mind with talk of taking the crown and, with it, a wife.
Even now, as they ate from the roast boar set before the regent’s plate, they dropped salacious hints about a ceremony. “The populace needs direction,” Mordrent said to no one in particular. The eldest of the advisors, he sat at Amery’s right hand and often gripped the young prince’s arm with spindly fingers to drive his point home. “At this moment in time, with the Cyrians practically crossing our moat, the people need encouragement. It is your duty to give them hope. If they could but see the crown again—”
“I cannot wear it in battle,” Amery replied. He pulled his arm away from Mordrent’s groping hand before the old man could snatch it. “Once this present threat has passed, I will consider it.”
From Amery’s other side, a woman laughed. Bellona was the only female advisor on his staff, a proud woman, never married, childless, who carried herself with a regal, almost haughty air. Her gray hair shone like the silver wires she wore twisted up among her curls. She had been a fixture at the castle for as long as Amery could remember—the faint memories of his own mother, a frail woman who died before he was seven, sometimes mingled with his thoughts of Bellona, creating one formidable matron in his mind.
“Consider?” Bellona asked, her voice thick with disapproval. One finely drawn eyebrow rose on the porcelain skin of her face, and when she turned toward Amery, the look he saw in her icy eyes made him squirm. “You are the regent, Your Highness,” she pointed out. “You will take the crown. Only death would release you from your obligation.”
If all women were as ruthless and conniving as Bello
na, Amery thought, he sure as hell didn’t plan to marry. Death would be preferable…but her cold gaze stemmed any snide comment he may have made. With difficulty, he swallowed the food in his mouth and looked away.
His gaze trailed down the tables that abutted his—they formed a U-shape, his table connecting the others. On his left side, the chairs were filled with breathless, giggling beauties, busy picking over their plates and fanning ample bosoms that strained at the seams in their dresses. One of the women saw him looking and elbowed the girl beside her; soon the whole table smiled in his direction, eyes winking, jewelry flashing, petite hands tipped with polished nails fluttering at him in greeting.
Amery groaned and bent over his plate, focusing on the food he shoveled into his mouth. From the corner of his vision, he glanced at the table on his right, where his knights sat. The four friends roared with laughter, knocking their goblets together in raucous toasts, joking with the men beside them, living it up, and Amery would have given half his kingdom to be able to join them without reproach.
Lohden’s ever-present book had been put away; he and Giles tossed pellets of bread down the length of the table, snickering when their makeshift missiles struck someone. Berik leaned against the young squire beside him—from the kid’s flushed cheeks and hooded eyes, Amery could imagine all too well where Berik’s large hand had settled beneath the table. Narrowing his eyes, the regent glared at the squire and considered throwing him from the hall, from the castle even, if only for the crime of doing what he wanted when the regent could not.
Beside them sat Tovin. The knight grinned at his friends’ antics, but every now and then that dark gaze flickered Amery’s way. Tovin’s face was an impenetrable mask, and Amery could read nothing in the depths of his stormy eyes. The regent’s body ached for his knight’s touch—why couldn’t he sit beside Tovin like the squire who leaned into Berik? Then Tovin’s strong hand would be curving around Amery’s thigh, easing into the draws of his breeches, fumbling over the erection that had woken at the sound of the trumpet declaring Tovin’s arrival.
Here in the dining hall, there were too many shadows between himself and the knight, too many people. He wanted to be sitting beside Tovin, right here, right now, to gaze into those beautiful eyes and hear that breathy laugh whisper inside him. He should be able to lean against Tovin, feel that warm body alongside his, reach up and run his fingers through the damp curls that tumbled to the knight’s collar. It wasn’t fair—
A cold hand touched his wrist. Amery jerked as if caught staring and turned to find Bellona watching him, her perfectly painted lips pursed in thought. “You do want the crown, Your Highness,” she purred. “Do you not?”
What he wanted was Tovin, but until the feast was over and they could be alone, the knight would remain out of his reach. Meeting Bellona’s steady gaze, Amery threw her previous comment back at her in reply. “Only death would keep me from it.”
Chapter 4
When the meal was over, Amery found himself pinned down by his guests, who took advantage of the regent’s presence to besiege him with questions he would rather have answered during the weekly sessions he held in the throne room. He watched, helpless, as his knights rose from their table and excused themselves from the dining hall. Only Tovin paused to glance back, his face closed, his eyes unreadable.
Then the crowd surged toward the middle table, and Tovin’s friends pulled him from view.
When Amery finally managed to escape, he found Tovin in the now empty drawing room, brooding. From the doorway, he studied his lover, who sat at the table where the knights had gathered to hear the regent’s news. A slight frown graced Tovin’s face as he picked at the gauntlets he’d thrown down earlier.
So beautiful, Amery thought, taking in the sandy curls that accented smooth skin tanned to the color of roasted almonds. Tovin had always been a handsome boy, but time and his long absences from the castle only increased his good looks in Amery’s opinion. The regent allowed himself a heart-felt sigh that announced his presence.
Tovin’s deep-sea eyes flashed like storm clouds overhead when he turned. “I was beginning to wonder if you would ever leave the feast.”
Closing the door, Amery crossed the room to stand behind the knight. He rested a hand on Tovin’s mail-covered shoulder and couldn’t stop it from trailing down the length of the mail covering Tovin’s arm. “Did you win?”
He referred to the knights’ earlier contest, their sparring to see who among them was the best. Tovin laughed, a short, breathy sound. “Of course.”
Moving his hand back to Tovin’s shoulder, Amery worked his fingers through the chinks in his lover’s armor to give him an affectionate squeeze, then caressed the soft skin of his lover’s exposed neck. “Fence with me, then,” he suggested. “I’m good with a sword.”
But Tovin caught Amery’s hand in his and tugged until the regent stepped around the chair to stand before him. There was nothing unreadable in his gaze now—those eyes smoldered with a fiery lust that fanned the flames in Amery’s own blood. “How can I fight you?” Tovin asked as he wrapped his arms around Amery’s waist. He leaned his head against the regent’s stomach and sighed. “It’s my duty to protect you. I’ll not put you in danger.”
With a laugh, Amery ran his hands through Tovin’s thick hair. Fisting into the curly length, he gave a gentle tug and pointed out, “You’d do well to remember that.”
Tovin looked up at him, a questioning look on his face.
Amery gave him a sad smile. “You fought me every step of the way this afternoon. The servants say we quarrel too much.”
“Their talk is the reason we bicker,” Tovin teased with a wink.
The regent let out a lusty sigh. “Is there nothing better for the scullery maids to discuss than who I bring into my bed?”
“It’s breaking news,” Tovin joked. As Amery’s hand rubbed over the top of his head, Tovin’s eyes slipped shut and he leaned back, chin resting against Amery’s coverlet, lips puckering as he blew a kiss at the arm stretched out above him. “Some would rather gossip about your love life, or lack thereof, than worry about the northern invaders.”
“I have a very lively love life,” Amery objected. “Thank you very much.”
Tovin opened one eye, mouth twisted in a sardonic grin. “Oh, you do?” he asked. “Even when I’m not here?” A dull blush crept into Amery’s face, and Tovin winked. “So tell me, Your Highness, which hand thou dost prefer?”
With a loud hrumph, Amery smacked the top of Tovin’s head. “Hush. Or you will spend tonight in the stocks after all, I’ll warrant.”
Both eyes opened now. Looking up at his lover, Tovin drew his lips down into a pretty pout that made Amery’s stomach flutter. “I love you,” he admitted. “I wish this farce would end already. Sometimes I just want to crush you in my arms and cover you with kisses, and I can’t. I have to wait until we’re alone, and I hate waiting.”
“I know.”
With a suggestive smile, Amery sank to his knees, his hand slipping from the knight’s curls to trail down over his cheek. Tovin leaned into the touch and lowered his face to keep Amery in sight. Now it was the regent who looked up into his eyes. His voice lowered to an intimate level when he whispered, “We’re alone now.”
“So we are.” Tovin leaned forward to kiss Amery, whose eyes closed in anticipation.
But those sweet lips never touched his. Tovin hissed, a sharp intake of breath, and when Amery looked, he saw his lover wincing at a sudden pain in his side. “Gods,” he gasped, pressing a hand against the broken chinks in his armor where Giles’s sword had bit into him during battle.
Concern flashed across Amery’s face. “Let me see,” he commanded, brushing Tovin’s hand away.
Tovin protested, “I’m fine.”
But he let Amery help ease off his armored mail and the surcoat beneath it. The regent caught his breath at the sight of his lover’s bare chest, the muscles well defined, the smooth skin hairless except for tufts of
faint curls that clung to Tovin’s ruddy nipples. Though the fight had been hours ago, there was still an angry red mark along Tovin’s side, and a thin scratch marred the skin below his nipple where Giles’s blade slashed at him. “Damn,” Tovin muttered, picking at the dried blood. “I didn’t think he got me. The old bastard must’ve learned a thing or two since we sparred last.”
“I hope it doesn’t scar.” Before Tovin could stop him, Avery leaned forward and kissed the cut.
The knight caught his breath as Amery’s lips tickled his skin; one hand smoothed over the regent’s thick, soft hair.
“Oh, Tovin,” Amery sighed. He hugged his lover gently, mindful of the wound. Tovin’s skin was warm against his cheek, and he felt more than heard the strong beat of Tovin’s heart. “I don’t want to lose you. How will I go on if you die? Tell me that.”
Tovin laughed, a low, vibrant sound that rumbled through Amery and made the regent hug him tighter. “You’d find a way,” he promised.
But Amery shook his head stubbornly. “I don’t want to find a way. I want you.” With a sigh, he added, “You were right. It’s selfish of me to keep you here, but I can’t bear the thought of you on the front, so far away from me…I’ll be so lonely.”
“Can’t have that, now can we?” Tovin teased. When Amery looked up at him, the knight leaned down and kissed the corner of his mouth. Amery’s hands caressed Tovin’s flat stomach and muscular chest, tracing the curves of his body as if relearning them after all the time they’d spent apart. It had been too damn long.
Finally he reached up, hands cupped around Tovin’s neck, thumbs rubbing the sensitive skin behind his lover’s ears as he pulled him down for another kiss, a real kiss. Tovin’s mouth opened, his breath warm on Amery’s upper lip. The regent caught Tovin’s lower lip between his teeth, then moaned as his tongue licked into the knight, rediscovering the taste of him. It was a gentle kiss at first, probing, tentative.
