Page 41 of Immortal Sentry

“And you care for her?” Why his sudden pang of jealousy? Maybe Kerric’s protective nature made him cautious of anyone with influence over Prince Eron.

“Yes, I do. As I barely remember my mother, Kene filled the role.”

Kerric whirled, staring open-mouthed at Eron. “What did you say?”

“I said that I don’t remember much about my mother. Kene plays the role. She even calls me son, occasionally.”

“Kene?”

“Yes.”

“As in Lady Kennestone, Miisov’s daughter?”

Eron clapped a hand over his mouth. “Have I said too much?”

Kerric shook his head. “No, you haven’t.” Kene—a name Kerric hadn’t heard in ages when a combination of a rift with Miisov and a questionable relationship with Prince Dafron sent Elzabai into exile. Although he’d been much younger, Eron had followed along behind Dafron and Elzabai when they snuck out of the castle for adventures.

Amazing he didn’t mention remembering her from that time. Then again, between trauma and magic, he’d likely been fortunate to recall his own name.

“How do you know her?” Eron glared at Kerric like a feral dog braced for attack.

“My mother was Queen Salcha’s… I mean, your mother’s maid and confidante. When my father died, the queen brought me and Mother to live at the castle. Elzabai, whom you call Kene, lived here then. I…I looked up to her.” Not hard to imagine someone else doing the same. Elzabai had been beautiful and daring, with an eagerness for life.

But wait! Eron’s mentor? Lord Night was a woman? Not just any woman, but Elzabai, one of the most cunning individuals Kerric ever met. He’d wondered what became of her after she’d left the castle, but it wasn’t for a guard to know the business of nobles or mages.

If only she hadn’t directed her affection to an out-of-reach prince. “She must’ve been devastated when Prince Dafron died.”

“Actually, she never told me about knowing my brother until a few days ago. She’d come here hoping to rescue Dafron and got me instead.”

Really? Then again, staging a daring rescue sounded like her. “While I mourn the loss of your brother, I’m eternally grateful for Elzabai saving you.” Kerric picked up the lantern and began walking, memories filling his mind and heart. How young they’d all been, how happy, unknowing what fate awaited. He wouldn’t ask for more details now, how Eron escaped the castle, what he’d seen. Those were memories best left alone.

Eron didn’t follow.

Kerric turned. “Is something wrong?”

“When I was out in the forest, I swore I saw a gargoyle right in this spot. I don’t see one now.”

Eron had noticed Kerric perched on the ledge? “Perhaps you are mistaken. The gargoyles are this way. Come, I’ll show you.” Anything to keep Eron from asking too many questions.

But he had more. “Those men who tried to kill me. If the king wants me alive for now, who’d want me dead?”

“Crau. Although he pretends loyalty to the king, he’s loyal to no one but himself. Why exactly he wants you dead, I don’t know, except to thwart the king’s plans or win over Queen Lessa by showing he saved her from attack. The fact that he plans you ill means he cannot see your true form. Then again, you can never know how the man’s mind works, but he can’t be trusted.”

“How do you know?”

Kerric balled his free hand into a fist. “Because he was my commander and I, his most loyal captain. He betrayed me, your family, and his sworn oath as a king’s guard, costing the lives of our king and prince, and many men under his command.” He raised his gaze to meet Eron’s. “When the time comes, it’s my sword that will end his miserable life.”

Kerric ushered Eron back into his room just prior to first light, truly taking in the place. Reluctant to leave? Maybe. “Well, that was… interesting.” Eron yawned and stretched his arms high over his head. “Who knew a castle could have so many hidden stairways and rooms?”

Great Ibrus! Good thing those tapestries depicting gruesome battle scenes hadn’t adorned these walls during Prince Eron’s childhood. Leather everywhere, as though someone made the chambers as over-the-top masculine as possible. A mounted boar’s head over the fireplace! Even a hardened man of the sword like Kerric would’ve demanded changes.

Eron chuckled. “It’s all very grotesque, isn’t it?”

“I’ve seen more welcoming barracks.” Kerric turned in a slow circle. “Though I suppose it’s the perfect setting for a murder.”

Eron nodded thoughtfully, a wry twist to his lips. “I suppose you’re right. While I don’t have complete memories restored, I seem to remember a rocking horse and idyllic farm scenes when I lived here before. There was a particular farmer I paid really close attention to.” He waggled his brows. “Though I was too young at the time to realize why he intrigued me. In hindsight? Those bulging muscles.”

A playful Eron might be Kerric’s favorite version yet and, perhaps, the most dangerous. Time to say goodbye and return to the stairs before the morning transformation. What would happen if Eron actually saw Kerric go from man to stone beast? “Get some rest,” Kerric said. “I’ll come to you again tonight.”

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