Bound by Blood

by Mia West

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because Britannia is a frontier. It was so for Rome, it’s so now for the Saxons and their many tribes, and it will be so for whatever group decides to push outward next.”

  “Cambria isn’t Britannia.”

  “Northern Cambria isn’t. Our mountains render us more defensible and our limited arable land less attractive to a farming society. But the time may come when Saxons become desperate enough to settle for what they can grow here, and they may fight for it.”

  “They already fight for it.”

  “Arthur, if I could adequately describe the number of Saxons currently occupying Britannia, you might be amazed we aren’t already overrun. Right now, they’re relatively easily turned away. That may change in your lifetime.”

  “We would be forced to let them in?”

  “You would do well to consider diplomacy, should the time come when that’s the wiser course.”

  Arthur scanned the hills surrounding them. It was a quiet morning, still and cool. Difficult to imagine the land crowded with villages. “So my strategy is not to fight?”

  “Not at all. You fight for the welfare of your people, but you choose your battles. And you won’t be asked to welcome the Saxon hordes tomorrow or next year. You may have gray in your beard before you need to meet with their diplomats.”

  “Those dogs have diplomats?”

  “Don’t be fooled by the rough sorts sent to make trouble. Of course the Saxons have diplomats.”

  Gods. He didn’t feel ready for this. “Is the other thing you were going to say even worse?”

  Philip laughed, and the delight in it eased the tightness in Arthur’s chest. “No, son. Quite the opposite. Let’s walk, eh?”

  They continued along the path for a few minutes before Philip spoke again. “You planned to give the house to Bedwyr, didn’t you?”

  Arthur groaned. “Am I that transparent?”

  “Only to those who know what to look for. Your grandfather Wolf made certain I would be one of those people.”

  He wanted to turn around and walk back. “How many of you are there?”

  “Only your parents, and me, and Tiro.”

  “Master Tiro?”

  “He knows the signs, lad. There’s no need to be embarrassed. Listen: Wolf loved you. He had no idea if Bedwyr would return your feelings. In fact, he worried greatly he wouldn’t. So he asked me to be here for you after he’d gone. To offer counsel, or only an ear to listen, should you need one.”

  He did, often, but he had a difficult time imagining bringing his questions to Master Philip. He was still the man who’d taught him how to make sums.

  “I’m telling you this now because I recognize how strongly Bedwyr plays into this challenge for you. Between you and me, I believe you have a nobler reason for wanting that house. And so I want you to have it.”

  Arthur elbowed him lightly. “And you want to best Tiro.”

  “And that.” Philip grinned at him, the lines around his eyes creasing deeply. “Let’s go back to Uthyr’s reasons for giving you this challenge in the first place.”

  “To keep us occupied?”

  “Could be. What else might be a reason?”

  Arthur laughed. “You just can’t help teaching, can you?”

  “Come,” Philip said. “What else?”

  “Maybe he wants to help my parents empty their house?”

  “I doubt it, but it’s a possibility. What else?”

  “Maybe he just wants a new house.”

  “Undoubtedly, but why pit you against your brother?”

  “For sport?”

  The idea took him by surprise. Philip saw it. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think Uthyr would use the two of you in quite that way. But why two brothers? Why not two random men?”

  “Because we’re brothers?”

  “And what normally exists between brothers?”

  Arthur shrugged. “Love. Loyalty.”

  “And what normally exists between a man and his lord?”

  “Respect. Loyalty.”

  “Given those answers, what do you suppose Uthyr is testing you for?”

  Arthur stopped walking. “Loyalty. Mine for him versus mine for Cai.”

  Philip acknowledged his response with a small nod.

  “But there’s a third he doesn’t know about. My loyalty to Bedwyr.”

  “Which can be served by proving your allegiance to Uthyr.”

  “Where does that leave Cai?”

  “Political leadership comes and goes, Arthur. Brothers are brothers forever. You can nurture both.”

  “So what do I do? He asked for a strategy.”

  “Did he?”

  Brother against brother. “No. He asked for a show of loyalty. And Cai has a buck.”

  “A big gift isn’t always the best proof of loyalty.” He set a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “Why don’t you think on it? Keep walking. Enjoy the open air.” He gave Arthur a wry smile. “You’ve not had any for nearly a fortnight.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Of course. Come see me if you want to talk further.”

  He watched the cleric head back toward the village, then turned to continue down the path. Walking felt good. Helped him to think. Calmed him.

  Which made him think of Bed.

  He would never admit to Master Philip that his loyalty to Bedwyr was greater than to Cai. And it frightened him to think it might be greater even than his allegiance to Lord Uthyr. What had taken hold in him that he put another man before his warlord? Before his blood family?

  But he had a sneaking suspicion his grandfathers had felt the same toward each other. Either of them would have crossed Uthyr to protect the other.

  Show me the rightful heir of Marcus Roman.

  Marcus would have protected Wolf at all costs. But he would have been smart about it. He would have thought through every angle. He would have considered his obligations, his opponents, and his options.

  Protect Bedwyr, he thought. By proving my loyalty to Uthyr. As the heir of Marcus Roman.

  The answer halted him mid-stride.

  He balanced on one leg for a few seconds before lowering his foot to the ground.

  Was he truly thinking it?

  He was.

  Was it even possible?

  Gods help him, it was.

  But most important: would it prove what he needed to prove?

  He tried to imagine it not working. Of being able to stay a safer course and not consider this.

  Yet every time he ran the sequence through his mind, it worked. Triumphantly. This was the way he needed to take.

  His mind grew hectic with the logistics of the thing, his palms clammy with the prospect of carrying it out. He needed to steady himself enough to think. He needed to find some courage.

  And he knew just who could help him.

  Chapter 6

  The sun had scarcely risen the next morning when Bedwyr’s father joined him at the well.

  “Morning.”

  A short word, but he caught something strange in it. He glanced at Uthyr, trying to read his expression. “Morning.”

  “Sounds like you and Elain are…getting on.”

  Bedwyr’s neck grew hot. He splashed it with cool water, then scrubbed his face. Elain had been treating the household to nightly proof of his attentions.

  Uthyr chuckled, a low sound but not unkind, and clapped him on the back. “I’m glad, Bedwyr. More than you know.”

  Evidently. “So you’re no longer suspicious of her?”

  “I wouldn’t say that, but she’s given you no trouble, has she?”

  “No.”

  “Every time I see you two, you’re talking.”

  “You told me to root out her secrets.”

  His father grinned. “And you have.”

  Bedwyr looked down to scrub his arm. He’d convinced Elain to give more conservative performances, though she defied him now and again with a louder moan than
was truly necessary. At least it was working. “She’s intelligent. And practical. We talk to pass the time,” he added pointedly.

  Uthyr ignored his petulance. “Practicality is a good quality in a woman. And intelligence, so far as it serves her husband.”

  Bedwyr straightened. Husband?

  “What do you talk about?” his father asked.

  He sifted back through their conversations for something that wouldn’t get him sent away again. Finding nothing, he said, “Birds.”

  Uthyr’s eyes widened. “Lover of birds, is she?”

  “I don’t know. She asks about our birds here and talks about those where she grew up.” She didn’t, on either count. He prayed his father wouldn’t ask him to describe one of these exotic creatures. Surely the porridge was ready by now?

  Uthyr pursed his lips. “That sounds…like a conversation I would avoid. But a good one for you, perhaps.” He set a hand on Bedwyr’s shoulder and began to walk them toward the house. “I think you should have more of these talks with Elain. To ease my mind and yours.” Uthyr stopped short of the door and turned to him. “And I think you should begin to consider something.”

  “What?”

  “Marriage.”

  Bedwyr blinked.

  “You and Elain look fine together. As you said, she’s practical, and Gwen says she isn’t afraid to work.”

  His father’s eyes had a glint to them that Bedwyr usually only saw when Uthyr was in his cups or getting the better of another man at dice. Bedwyr stared for a moment before realizing he was meant to respond. “True.”

  Uthyr leaned close. “If you ask me, son, she seems to have been made especially for you.”

  With that, he turned and entered the house, leaving Bedwyr standing outside in the uncertain light of dawn.

  ~

  He was dawdling over his porridge, his father’s words churning in his mind, when Gwen spoke.

  “We want to go swimming.”

  He looked up, surprised to find her looking at him intently.

  “I was telling Elain about the lake beyond the western grazing grounds. We think we should make use of the last of summer weather while we can.” She turned to their father. “Ta?”

  Uthyr studied Gwen and Elain, then nodded. “Sounds like an excellent idea. Stretch your legs, get some air.” He looked at Bedwyr. “Be watchful for threats.”

  Keep an eye on Elain, he meant. “I will.”

  Uthyr turned to Eira. “You joining them?”

  She scoffed. “Swim in a lake, like a trout?”

  “It’s refreshing.”

  “It’s barbaric.”

  Uthyr grinned. “Your loss.”

  And Bedwyr’s gain. As they followed the worn paths across the hills and valleys, Gwen and Elain walking ahead, he was glad Eira hadn’t come, as she would have attached herself to his side like a burr. A burr with wandering hands, most likely.

  The sky had cleared, and though the breeze brought a touch of chill, it was pleasant enough. He watched his charges bump shoulders as they talked and laughed. The only threat in the immediate vicinity was that the two of them had become friends, a situation bound to have dire consequences for him; younger sisters didn’t let opportunities like having a willing accomplice go to waste.

  They had nearly reached the lake, were just one hill-crossing away, when Gwen and Elain stopped and turned to him. Anyone else might have taken their smiles as sweet, but he’d known Gwen too long. He braced himself.

  “We’re going to stay here,” Gwen said.

  “Why?”

  “To enjoy the sun,” Elain said.

  “You’re the ones who wanted to swim.”

  “Actually…” Gwen glanced slyly at Elain, who pressed her lips together. Gwen’s eyes flashed back, alight with exactly the sort of mischief he’d dreaded. “It wasn’t us.” She put two fingers in her mouth and whistled.

  The sharp, swooping sound broke the peace of the valley. A few seconds later, a figure appeared over the shoulder of the hillside. A redheaded figure.

  Arthur.

  Bedwyr took a step toward him before catching himself.

  Elain chuckled, deep and rich. “Go on.” When he hesitated, she added, “I won’t escape, I promise.”

  Gwen grabbed Elain’s arm, then saluted Bedwyr. “Reporting for watch.”

  Their giggles receded quickly behind him, no match for the cheeky grin waiting at the curve of the path. He looked back to judge the women’s sight lines and then stepped past Arthur. When they’d rounded the hill, he turned and hauled Arthur against him. The sun limned his hair in copper. Filling his hand with the long, strong lines of Arthur’s body, Bedwyr kissed him.

  After a moment Arthur broke away, breathless. “Miss me?”

  “No.”

  “Liar.”

  Bedwyr reached for him again, but he ducked away to walk toward the lake. When Bedwyr fell in beside him, he found a smug little smile curling Arthur’s mouth. “You look like a cat caught with cream on its whiskers.”

  Arthur’s gaze slid to his. “Wouldn’t mind some cream on my whiskers.”

  Bedwyr gave him a thoughtful inspection from eyebrows to boot heels.

  “I can feel that, you know.”

  “Feel what?”

  Arthur’s smirk grew. “You looking at me. As keenly as if you were touching me.”

  “I’d rather touch you.”

  A full-on smile at that. “You’ll want to soon, just to stay warm.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Because I’ve tested the lake, and it’s frigid.”

  Bedwyr squinted at the wind-scudded surface of the water. It did look cold.

  Arthur shrugged, peeling his shirt over his head. “Then again, you bathed in an icy stream all winter.”

  “I had a hut to dry in.”

  Arthur stepped close and smiled at his scowl. He tried to press it smooth with his thumbs. Bedwyr glared harder, and Arthur chuckled. “Stubborn.”

  “I see no hut.”

  “We’ll build a fire.”

  “With what?” He gestured to the hills surrounding the lake, bare of trees and brush.

  “With my mouth on your cock.”

  It twitched. “If I get in that water, I won’t have a cock for you to put your mouth on.”

  Arthur pressed against his chest. “Then I’ll have to tease it out,” he said against Bedwyr’s lips. “Softly. Just as you like it.”

  Gods, he’d missed this. He gripped Arthur’s hip. “Yeah?”

  “Mmm.” He licked lightly at Bedwyr’s lips, as if he couldn’t feel the press of his already-hard prick against his thigh. Using the tip of his tongue, he teased the corner of Bedwyr’s mouth.

  Bedwyr jerked back and unbuckled his own belt. It fell to the ground with a clank, and then it was a race to see who could achieve nakedness first.

  The water was every bit as cold as he’d suspected. Arthur winced as they waded in, hissing as it climbed toward his sac.

  “This was your idiot idea.”

  Arthur dove forward.

  Sighing, Bedwyr did the same. He surfaced shouting.

  “Come on, man,” Arthur said, laughing. “You run hotter than I do.”

  “A low simmer.”

  Arthur grinned at him, dripping. “It’s refreshing.”

  The echo of his father’s words rang loud. Bedwyr surged forward. Arthur’s eyes grew wide, and he tried to swim backward out of reach, but Bedwyr caught him around one bony ankle and towed him back. Arthur fought him, but here Bedwyr had an advantage: more weight, greater power, and a far bigger thirst for vengeance. He heaved Arthur over his right shoulder.

  “Overgrown bastard.” Arthur kicked.

  Bedwyr pinned his legs with his short arm. He was about to toss him unceremoniously into the water when he realized he had another advantage. He scraped his fingernails up the back of Arthur’s thigh.

  Arthur growled. “Get on with it: throw me in.”

  He smiled against Ar
thur’s bare hip. The hair on his legs glinted reddish in the sunlight. Bedwyr drew his fingertips up through it again, stopping to appreciate the spot where his thigh became his arse.

  Arthur squirmed. “Stop.”

  “Stop what?” He teased the skin again.

  “That.” He flexed his leg, firming the muscle under Bedwyr’s fingers.

  He slid them sideways until they dipped into his cleft.

  Two hands grabbed Bedwyr’s waist from behind.

  Slowly, he grazed Arthur’s skin with his nails again.

  “Gods.” Arthur sounded breathless.

  As well he might. The water was fucking cold. Bedwyr tossed him into it.

  Arthur splashed down, gangly limbs flailing. When he surfaced, he lunged at Bedwyr.

  They tussled for several minutes, dunking and wrestling until they were winded. When Arthur made to grapple more, Bedwyr trapped his arms, pinning their bodies chest to chest. Arthur huffed against him, snapping his jaw in a mock bite. Bedwyr tightened his hold. Some of Arthur’s hair had come free of its queue and lay plastered across his face. His eyelashes curled in damp clumps. Water droplets clung to his nose and beard. Bedwyr licked one from his mustache.

  Arthur pressed closer. “More.”

  This was the best sort of moment, when Bedwyr could reduce him to single, needy words. He slipped his hand down Arthur’s back and over a buttock to tease his cleft again. Arthur groaned and raised one leg, wrapping it around Bedwyr’s. He stroked the newly exposed skin. Arthur gasped, his hands clamping hard on Bedwyr’s shoulders. He eased down over the smoother skin just behind the sac, and Arthur ground against him.

  “Want you, Bed.”

  Bedwyr took his hand and pulled him from the water. Scanning the surrounding hills, he saw no sign of the women; they’d stayed put after all. He pushed Arthur down onto the grass, but when he reached for Bedwyr’s cock, Bedwyr caught his hand. “Roll over.”

  “But you need—”

  “On your belly, cub.”

  He got a hot look for that, and Arthur rolled over.

  He always looked so long when stretched out just so. His shoulders were broad, tapering to narrow hips and sinew-strapped legs. Water shone on all his contours, pooling at the base of his spine. From there, the curve of his arse rose high. Its pale skin pebbled with gooseflesh as a light breeze swept over the lake. Bedwyr set his palm to one cheek to warm it.