Page 13 of Immortal Sentry

“Speak for yourself.”

Lady Kene turned a barely visible glare on Eron. “You know the rules.”

He laughed. She baited so easily. “I believe I shall rob a certain young gentleman of his virginity this night.”

Kene released an inelegant snort. “Hard to rob him of something he’s been practically flinging at you all evening. I daresay his parents should speak to him about discretion. Particularly as they seem set on marrying him to the Earl of Hertford’s daughter.”

“I’m afraid he’d find that particular marriage bed quite crowded.” Eron had been there himself occasionally, and he hadn’t been the only guest in the earl’s daughter’s bed that night.

“You’ve been listening to gossip.”

How unlike her not to know Eron gained his knowledge firsthand. “Hard not to when most conversations here are three parts gossip, one-half part truth, and the rest drunken nonsense. Tell me, how long must I endure this dreadfully tedious affair before we go out for some real adventure?” Eron tilted his head to the side, batting his lashes.

Someone gave a wistful sigh to his left. Ah, so someone was susceptible to his charms. He fully realized how he and Keneappeared; she was all icy pale, and he had midnight black hair, green eyes, and olive skin. Rumors never circulated about impropriety, though many often wondered aloud how “Lord Edry” came to be Lady Kene’s ward and heir apparent.

“Just a touch longer, scamp. Mingle. Ensure you speak to as many peers as possible. Later, when we seem more distant, our guests will merely think we’ve had a bit too much to drink. We must keep up appearances.”

And alibis.

“I’ll have to tell my valet to take no liberties with the young man I plan to bed tonight.”

“You know him better than that. For all his faults, he doesn’t poach once you’ve staked your claim. Now, go. Mingle. Accept compliments and flirt with young ladies and men. I shall meet you at the stables after dinner.”

A shiver of anticipation ran down Eron’s spine. “I live for the moment.”

Kene laughed. “I bet you do. If I was given to remorse, I might feel guilty about corrupting my ward.”

“Don’t. You nearly sent me to a monastery the last time you had an attack of conscience. I simply don’t possess the right temperament for a monk. I like my vices far too well.”

“That you do. Allowing you to corrupt the entire monastery would only add to my sins. Now go.” Kene made a shooing motion with her hand. “Mingle.”

Eron ducked away with a smirk on his face, having seen a certain boorish duke approaching. Kene would be lucky to escape his simpering by dinner.

“I thought I’d never escape that odious old toad,” Kene said to Eron, flipping up the hood on her cloak to hide her radiant hair. Her face glowed pale in the moonlight as Rolf led their horses from the stables. “The things I must endure for the greater good. Although he brought me word of Queen Lessa.”

“Queen Lessa of Anilitk? What interest do you have in her? We’re not going hunting in Anilitk, are we?” As far as Eron knew, Kene avoided Anilitk at all costs.

“No. Never. I knew her as a girl. I hear she’s fine other than having a cruel tyrant for a husband. Now, enough chatting. Let’s go.”

So, one more subject Kene didn’t want to discuss. But Lessa? Why did that name seem familiar?

Eron’s darker hair and complexion were better suited for nighttime exploits than Kene’s, meaning he didn’t need so much effort to hide. He nodded to Rolf and swung up on Rhedos, his favorite black gelding, waiting for Kene to mount as well. She’d swat him if he offered her help. Besides, she was an excellent rider as long as she wasn’t required to sit sidesaddle. She’d never forgive Eron for his laughter the last time she’d tried.

“Rolf, we should return by sunrise,” she said. “Please keep our guests from destroying the manor.”

“Aye, milady.” Rolf released his hold on the horses’ reins. Kene mounted with the grace of a cat, wheeled her gelding, and darted through a back gate manned tonight by a trusted guard. None but the guard, Rolf, and two trusted servants—currently impersonating Kene and Eron—knew they’d left the party.

Eron leaned over his mount’s neck, the nip in the air exhilarating against his face. He raced along beside Kene, muffling whoops of laughter. Oh, to be so free, living a double life with none the wiser.

Kene’s ball of mage light illuminated their path. She’d never tell him how she made it. “It’s my only magical skill,” she’d said. Then she’d changed the subject.

They rode full-out for a way before Kene reined in her horse, snuffing out the mage light. In the pale moon glow filtering through a canopy of trees, Eron saw her put a finger to her lips.

He heard an owl to the south, answered by one to the north. A lone wolf howled in the distance. The wind blew through the trees. The scent of honeysuckles and fresh-mown hay drifted on the breeze.

They perched on a ridge overlooking a village. Lamplight and laughter spilled from a tavern. Kene dismounted and tied her horse to a nearby tree. Eron followed suit. Together, they strode down a goat path toward the stables. Judging by the laughter and ribald conversations from the tavern, the occupants were deep in their cups. Eron wouldn’t mind being there if he didn’t have more important tasks tonight.

Kene gestured, and Eron split off, keeping to the shadows. He climbed an old oak by the tavern, shimmied onto the roof, and dropped into the attic through a door. He lay on his belly on the floor, peering through a peephole.

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