by Jasmine Walt
Lorelai leaned back, her fingers splaying in the air. Taron’s fierceness was legendary, but the way he spoke to her now, as if she was the highest-valued prize imaginable, quelled her.
“Taron?” She prodded at his ferocity.
He exhaled deeply, his eyes closing briefly as his grip on her arms loosened. His chest heaved. “You are the queen,” he said.
“Please, call me Lorelai,” she asked. “Taron, we have been through much together over the years and especially most recently. I cannot continue just being ‘my queen,’ or ‘Your Majesty.’ Please call me Lorelai.”
Taron leaned hesitantly forward, his deep brown gaze searching her face. “Lorelai,” he said. It was a gravelly, rasping voice, as if he’d said the word a million times before. He was almost choking on the emotion of saying it directly to her. “I must do as you command.” He took a deep breath and his skin paled slightly, but he pushed on. The words seemed to have such a hard time coming out of his mouth. “I should’ve done so earlier, when you asked me to lay with you. I was wrong. It was my foolishness that made this mess and almost cost you your life. I am forever in your service and at your beck and call. Whatever you ask me to do.” He touched the edge of her face as if to lean forward and kiss her.
Heat rushed through Lorelai, burning her face, down her arms, and landing in the suddenly damp area between her legs. She glanced nervously over her shoulder. They weren’t far from the other knights…No. She took a step back, clenching and unclenching her hands.
Taron suddenly bowed low. “I mean no disrespect, Lorelai.”
The warmth of his voice brought a delicate smile to Lorelai’s lips. His rich, earthy scent grounded her. Her fingers delicately draped onto his arm. “It’s okay, Taron. I needed to hear that.”
“It was just—”
Bruno limped through the trees.
“We need not talk about this now,” Lorelai said.
“We need to get going,” Bruno insisted, looking from Taron to Lorelai, his brow wrinkling.
“Of course.” Lorelai nodded, glancing once more at Taron’s serious face before she followed Bruno back to the others.
The sky was growing light as they made their way up the road towards House du Perigord. It was slow going with both Taron and Bruno now riding the laircat and Lorelai, Marrok, Andre, and Reyn walking exhaustedly at their side. They had come a long way from the fine court at Castle Ashford, Lorelai thought. Gone were the regal clothes, the pomp and circumstance. Now they were six wayward travelers trying to find refuge for the night. Even so, a sense of comfort overwhelmed her. They were together. She was with her men, her knights. She had never felt safer.
They walked in a phalanx around her, their swords, spears, bows, hammers, daggers, claws, and teeth at the ready. Every now and then Lorelai stroked her laircat’s fur and felt the rush of protection and home she always felt around the beast.
Home.
What was home anymore? She had lived for so long with the idea they would save Bas Terrenia, but it was so far away. She had lived in Castle Ashford for the last eight years, making the capital her residence and its rules and customs her own, the knights and king her family. Now she walked into the unknown with these five knights. Men who had come from great houses and need not take on the certainty of death, and for what?
For her?
Lorelai stopped. Elba halted beside her, twisting her head down to look at her mistress. “You need not follow me,” Lorelai said as the knights all gazed at her. Lorelai backed out of the phalanx until she was facing all five of them.
“I appreciate you rescuing me,” she said. “But you need not follow me into what is undoubtedly death, or at least exile. The way forward is uncertain. You all come from great houses and great families. I know you said before you would follow me to your deaths, but it’s not too late.” Her words filled the silence under the lightening sky.
They all stared, faces impenetrable. Her heart pounded in her chest. What if they said yes? What if they took her up on her offer and left her standing alone with just Elba?
Lorelai swallowed hard and raised her chin to calm the quaking that moved through her torso. Whatever came, she would face it as she had faced everything else. Head-on.
Bruno looked casually over at Andre. “How many of Guntram’s assassins did you kill to get out of the castle?”
Andre shrugged, his mouth turning into a dubious smile, his lower lip protruding a bit. “Not quite sure. I’d say I got about six myself. Marrok?”
“Well done.” Marrok nodded. “It was three for me. Bruno, did you get any at the river before the cat came in to save your arse?”
Bruno’s face broke out in a scowl as he raised his fingers and counted off. “One. Two. Three. I’d say four. I figure that puts me in about second. Because, Reyn, from what I understand, you only got the one bastard who was trying to shoot our queen. And Taron, you don’t really look like you’re in any state to get anyone.”
“I killed one,” Taron said. “That’s enough to earn me a death sentence in my own right.” He slid his leg off Elba and stood before the queen. The others fell in line next to him.
Lorelai’s gaze roved over the five men. Taron towered in the middle of the line, his brown eyes shimmering in the pale light. To his right, Marrok, fit, broad, and dark, stared with unblinking seriousness at the queen. Next to him stood the golden knight Reyn, lithe and agile, with the corner of his mouth pulled up in a mild smirk. On the other side of Taron was Andre, the colossal knight with long blond hair and a massive beard, with teeth so white he smiled like dawn. Lorelai couldn’t help but smile back. Then Bruno. The handsome man with the big heart who had carried her through the long night and protected her from the assassins. The singing minstrel who was deadly with the sword and arrow.
Their eyes were glued to her as her heart rattled. These knights were hers. Even if they chose to leave her now, in her heart they would always be hers. Taron stepped forward, his face drawn and tired as he gazed down at her, the scar across his eye dark in the predawn light.
“My queen, we are the Order of the Regent and we are at your service. The king told me it was his desire that upon his death, you become regent. He was supposed to make an announcement that night. But Guntram’s spies are everywhere, and he learned of it just before the king was to leave for the feast. He acted quickly. I believe Archard the bone mage helped him to kill the king. You are the rightful heir to the throne of Valliere. It is what your husband wanted, and it is what we are chosen to protect. We are the Order of the Regent and we recognize only you as Regent of Valliere.”
Tears shone in Lorelai’s eyes at the mention of her husband’s wishes, but she blinked them back. He had told her of this idea, but it seemed so crazy to place her as the regent when she had no heirs. It was unheard of in Valliere, and yet he had told Taron of the decision. He must have known his desire to make her the regent would get them killed. Her heart caught in her throat as Taron pulled his ancestral sword from its scabbard and handed it to her, hilt first. He dropped to his knee.
“I am Taron of House du Mircea.” His voice rang out in the night. “I am the longest serving member of the Order of the Regent. And I do recognize the only Regent of the Kingdom of Valliere as Queen Lorelai. I commit my sword, my heart, and my life to her, Lorelai D’Anjou. In the name of San Anais, who cares for birth; San Noemie, of the heart; San Gaelle, who showers prosperity; San Yanis, bringer of health; San Leon, who upon his death provided knights; and the great San Mael, inevitable death, I am yours.”
Lorelai’s breath was shallow as Taron pledged his oath to her and named her Queen of Valliere. She took his ancient ancestral sword and placed it first on one shoulder, then on the other, and finally on the crown of his head.
“I accept your fealty,” were the only words she could choke out past the lump in her throat. And just like that, they were hers.
14
Bruno pointed to the small castle perched precariously on the edge of a ja
gged escarpment. “There’s House du Perigord,” he said.
It wasn’t much, but it was their starting point. They had their queen, their oath, and hopefully the support of the Perigord family.
If they were blessed by all the saints at once, they might end up with his mother’s support. She had amassed quite an army in Moreno. A worthy group of warriors, well-honed and ready to protect Valliere. Her philosophy was simple: all men needed the opportunity to get their aggression out, and better in her service than thinking for themselves.
“That’s it?” Lorelai asked, dismay obvious in her voice as she stared bleakly at the compact pile of stones.
Bruno sighed. Their situation was pretty grim.
“There are a few more houses down the other side of the bluff, but it is not a big citadel,” Marrok said.
“It is a big family though,” Bruno said with a smile. Bruno’s family duchy bordered Affama, only a day’s hard ride to the northwest. “In the Western Region, there is always a Perigord married into some faction of everyone’s family.”
“Did you know Cateline?” Lorelai asked.
“She was a distant cousin,” Bruno said grimly. “It is not good news we bring to this family. She will be sorely missed.”
“I would like to be with you,” Lorelai murmured.
“She was one of the stars of House du Perigord,” Bruno said. “She had something special. That’s why I asked her to help.”
“You sent her into the prison?” Lorelai asked. “She did it for you?”
“No.” Bruno frowned down at the queen. The last thing he wanted, for some reason, was for her to think Cateline was one of his lovers. “I told her the situation and it was her idea. She did it for her people. She did it for you. She did it for Valliere.”
“What is done cannot be undone,” Taron interjected. “Discussing it will not change the past. But we must tell her family.” He leaned forward on the laircat’s back, urging Elba up the narrow trail towards the stronghold.
Bruno dropped back. Taron had returned and would take the lead. He’d even heard the queen invite Taron to call her Lorelai, just like she had told him. Bruno’s back stiffened at the thought. Was the bond they had built just temporary? A necessity because they traveled alone together? Or did she have the same bond with every one of the knights? Lorelai was a queen. They were both born to ducal houses, but she had been elevated to a queen when she married King Peverell.
Now they were sworn to support her regency of Valliere. If they were successful in their quest, it’s not like he could just step onto the throne next to her. Bruno gripped his sword hilt.
Why in the name of the saints was he thinking of marrying Queen Lorelai? Why was he angry at his brother Taron for approaching the queen? Because they embraced? Because in a moment of fearful desperation, she had brushed her lips against his? He had kissed plenty of women. More than quite a few. So why her? Because she was the queen?
No.
Bruno ground his teeth.
It had been four years. He had been in the royal garden at Castle Ashford when he was sure it would be empty, singing and playing his cittern. He was a musician at heart and created many songs about battles, about women, and sometimes comedic ones about his bond brothers. If he was not too far in his cups and in just the right mood, he could even be coerced to perform in the great hall in the evenings in front of the roaring fire and the ladies.
On that afternoon, he thought he might perform in the evening, so he had gone to the garden to test out a new song. Out in nature, the saints were closer, and the music flowed more freely. He could feel them in the wind and in his skin telling him exactly what notes to play and how long to hold each one. He paced softly through the garden, letting his footsteps slowly beat out the tempo. His mood had been melancholy, rich and deep with memories of his brother, Stavano.
But his voice died in his throat as he turned the corner and found the queen standing there, attended only by her constant companion, the massive laircat.
He knew he was not supposed to be there and bowed low, apologizing for disrupting her time in the royal garden. But as he rose, he saw the tears in her eyes. Bruno acted without thinking. He immediately swung the cittern to his back and pulled her into his arms. The queen lay her head against his shoulder, and it seemed the most natural thing in the world. They stood in the silence and warmth of each other.
She had understood his sorrow. It wasn’t just empathy; she had the same pain.
He knew plenty of people who had lost loved ones. They lived in a kingdom surrounded by terrors and evils. In fact, he didn’t know a single person who was untouched by some tragedy. He had seen many faces in grief. But when Lorelai had gazed on him, she had the same frozen look of disbelief he felt inside. The unfathomable knowledge something irreplaceable had been ripped away forever and there was no way the world would ever be quite so bright again.
But with her in his arms, her head resting on his chest, something had changed. His brother’s death left an empty, hollow place, and now something was there.
She had filled it.
It was unbelievable a woman could fill the place of a brother, but she had soaked into him and warmed his heart. For the first time since his brother had died, he had truly felt light enter him again.
Not a word passed between them until Elba’s low growl had pulled Bruno out of the moment. He immediately dropped his arms and pulled back just as Cateline rounded the corner.
Queen Lorelai had wiped her eyes as Cateline curtsied and informed them the king had summoned her to his side. But as Bruno watched the queen’s skirts sway away from him, he couldn’t stop the rising of his cock. She was the wife of his liege lord, and that should never have happened. He had no right to touch the queen. But after that incident in the garden, whenever he took a woman to bed, he found he often imagined it was a regal redhead who lay in his arms looking to him for comfort.
Now, as they moved up the escarpment towards House du Perigord, he knew she was the one. More than just a knight fighting for his queen, she was the love of his life, and he would forever be sworn to her service and do whatever he could possibly do to be at her side.
Nothing could stop him.
He belonged to her.
As a united group, they stood inside the door of the great hall, waiting for the lord and lady of the castle, Cateline’s parents. Bruno hated moments like this, knowing they must tell somebody they had lost a love of their life. The hall was not large. The family did not have much. But by the hanging tapestries filled with scenes of feasting and family, he could tell the walls of this castle had seen many happy times. He moved closer to Lorelai. He wanted to be there to offer her any level of support he could.
A bevy of screaming children poured into the hall. Surely they could not all be children of the house. Perhaps grandchildren or cousins or something. They were all Perigords, judging by the similarity of their wispy, blond features.
Shortly, from the rear of the hall, a small, elderly couple entered. Though their blond hairs had turned gray, they were clearly of this family, alive with energy and engaged with the wee ones swarming around them. Their clothes were worn and not in the latest fashions. Their garb looked several years old, but their chins were high and their eyes clear as they walked towards Lorelai and the knights.
Though Lorelai wore a peasant’s costume, there was no way she could hide who she was. Any lord or lady who had been at court would recognize her red hair, aquiline features, and stately demeanor.
Lord and Lady Perigord bowed and curtsied deeply.
“You seek refuge here?” Lord Perigord was direct.
Lorelai, in the manner which made her so loved, took one of the lady’s and one of the lord’s hands in each of hers.
“If you have it in you to offer us a place to rest, that would be much appreciated,” she said. “Though we are not here simply seeking aid. We bring you grave and terrible news.”
As the color faded from Lady Perigord’s fa
ce, Bruno knew she understood.
“Cateline,” the lady whispered.
“Our daughter is dead?” Lord Perigord asked, his gaze shifting from Lorelai to Bruno.
“She died a noble death,” Bruno said.
Bruno watched as Lord Perigord squeezed Lorelai’s fingers so tight she grimaced. But still she held his hand.
“She took my place in the prison,” Lorelai said, tears glistening in her eyes. “It was the only way I could escape.”
“We thought we could get her back out again,” Bruno confessed. “My cousin was an incredible woman. Very brave and very true.”
From the recesses of the rooms, more and more blond, wispy people came, none well-dressed. The lord and lady of the house still had the best clothes.
“Our Cateline is gone.” Lady Perigord spoke loudly to the entire room. “And she has brought life for the queen instead.”
A murmur went around the room, but Lorelai raised her hand for silence, reached into her bodice, and retrieved the letter from Cateline. “It is not much, but I also bring you this letter in your daughter’s hand.”
His small goatee trembling, Lord Perigord tore it open. His voice shook as he read it aloud to the silent family.
My beloved lord father and lady mother,
My heart is open, my mind clear. Today you have received terrible news. But fear not. I live in the ever-living pool of the saints and will always be with you. May you find respite and refuge in the knowledge I now live my truth eternally, and we shall be together when we find ourselves in a different world.
I commend to you Her Grace, the queen, Lorelai. She is more than a queen, she is my Queen. She has a pure heart and not only my love, but the love of the people of the courts, and she deserves your love. The man who sits upon the throne now and calls himself king is a usurper I give my life to rid the kingdom of. Guntram does not deserve the throne of Valliere. Please care for the queen as you have cared so greatly for me my entire life.
