Page 39 of Immortal Sentry

“He was too clumsy. Too slow. They both were. They also hesitated. Hesitation in battle is death.” They’d hesitated? Someone had trained Eron well.

“No, they were hired to pose as guards to gain entry to your rooms and kill you, most likely. How many people know you’re here?” Miisov mentioned four, not counting guards.

“The crazy mage, a pompous duke, a man who calls himself king, guards, and a few servants.” Eron showed not the least sign of modesty as he stood, flaccid cock dangling from a nest of ebony curls. “And you.”

With a bit of effort, Kerric managed to keep his eyes from straying and his mind on the situation.

Having had many lovers and regularly bathing and dressing with other guards should’ve made Kerric less susceptible to a naked man’s charms. This man, however, captured Kerric’s attention. He couldn’t look away.

“What do we do with the bodies?” Eron asked, pulling Kerric’s attention to matters at hand.

A voice sounded from the open doorway. “The crazy mage will take care of the refuse.” Miisov stepped into the room, staff in hand. Amazing Kerric hadn’t heard his shuffling gait before now. Then again, if Miisov didn’t want to be heard, he wouldn’t be. “I see the two of you have met.”

Interesting how fast Eron wrapped his body in a linen cloth once Miisov appeared. “We have. Though I still don’t know who he is.” Eron waved a hand in Kerric’s direction. “He’s wearing the king’s colors, but his uniform differs from what the assassins wore. Less ostentatious.”

Miisov glanced from Eron to Kerric and back. “Our dear Captain Kerric prefers a simpler style. He’s what you might call a relic from a bygone era.”

Kerric’s glare ought to have incinerated Miisov on the spot.

Eron turned his full attention to Kerric. “Captain Kerric! You said you’re called Cap.”

“I am.”

Eron peered at Kerric more closely, eyes squinted. “You look familiar. Sound familiar, too, as does your name.”

“Oh, you know. You’ve seen one guard, you’ve seen them all,” Miisov interjected dismissively. “And all Hisarans sound the same.”

Now wasn’t the time to mention Kerric’s being from Splosia and not sounding a bit like a Hisaran.

“I don’t find that to be true, but I must be mistaken,” Eron said. “I’d remember silver hair and eyes.”

Kerric let out a relieved breath not to be recognized.

Miisov nodded to the bodies. “Captain, please show Edry around the castle and familiarize him with its many passageways.” A stern look conveyedhiddenpassageways.

“Starting with how you got into my rooms.” Eron grinned. A man who’d just foiled a murder attempt shouldn’t be so cheerful.

“I think you'd be more comfortable if you dressed and wore boots.” The suggestion came hard as Kerric would love nothing more than to ogle Eron’s amazing body now that they were apparently safe. Maybe he could slip away to the tavern for a brief spell and find some man willing to calm his long-denied libido.

The tavern still existed, didn’t it? Wait. Miisov mentioned restrictions. Leave the castle and turn to stone permanently. Parts of Kerric felt like stone now. Oh, for a bed, ten minutes, and a willing bedmate. At another glance toward Eron, Kerric amended that to at least thirty minutes.

Eron strode into what Kerric remembered to be his bedchamber. The rooms had changed since he’d last been here. Toys and remnants of Eron’s childhood were gone. No doubt Miisov provided adequate clothing, too.

The tapestries weren’t to Kerric’s liking, but he didn’t have to live here.

Miisov ambled closer. “I do not recognize these men, though they reek of Crau’s influence. I will interrogate them. It seemsCrau might not be fully invested in my plans. I’ll have to exert a bit more influence.”

“How can you interrogate dead men?” Did Kerric really want to know? And could he truly trust Miisov’s questionable magic to keep Eron safe?

Miisov fixed Kerric with a meaningful stare. “Yours is not to question the ways of mages. Now, take your charge. Remember that at dawn, you will return to your post.Lord Edryalso needs time to sleep. Now go, but don’t stay out too late.”

Chapter Sixteen

Kerric’s heart pounded out a harsh beat normally reserved for battle. He and Eron, alone, with no bars keeping them apart. He held the lantern aloft as they entered the hidden passageway. “What do you remember about the castle?” he asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

Although he couldn’t see Eron in the dark, Kerric imagined a shrug. “Not much. I remember playing in the great hall. Miisov ensured I am kept in my old rooms, though who can say whether that’s meant to provide memories or for secret access? There was a servants’ stairway leading to a cellar I used to explore, but I don’t recall any connecting to my rooms. I wish I had. Why did no one tell me?”

The question brought to mind the mischievous Eron of old. He didn’t mention knowing Kerric. Did he truly not remember, or did he not want to remember?

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