Page 15 of Immortal Sentry

“Is this dear to you?” Eron puffed out his warm breath and wafted it over the man’s ear, inspiring a shiver.

“A fr… friend gave it to me.”

“A lover, perhaps?” Eron crooned. How interesting. Much more fun than Kene’s boring old party. “You must possess quite a gift to deserve such a treasure. Or did you trade a treasure for a treasure?”

The young man’s flush darkened.

Eron longed for details. Yes, as Kene observed, he reveled in good gossip when firsthand knowledge wasn’t possible. Sometimes, he found valuable information hidden within idle rumors. “Would you trade me a kiss for this bauble?”

“Wh… what?”

“For a kiss, I’ll allow you to keep your pretty.” Eron ran his fingers over the medallion.

The man pressed his back against a tree. “A kiss? That’s all you want? A kiss.”

“Until the next time we meet, yes.” Eron leaned in, brushing his lips against the young man's. The man sighed and opened his mouth to allow Eron access. Eron had only been keeping him occupied while Kene robbed the older men, but this willingness was a pleasant surprise.

He pulled back, smiling. Oh, yes. If they had more time, he would debauch this fellow like he’d never been debauched before.

A soft whistle sounded in the distance.Damnation!“I’m afraid I must leave now, but I shall remember your soft lips during my lonely hours.”

The young man pressed his fingers to his lips, breaths coming in sharp pants. “Who are you? Are you Lord Night?”

“Lordling, actually.” Eron bowed. “We’ll meet again, my sweet.” He sprinted through the underbrush to his meeting place with Kene. Her grin said all he needed to know. As his told her.

Eron mounted his horse. Something stiff in his pocket poked his chest. He reached his fingers in, running them along the silver likeness of Avril, a god/goddess entity prayed to when other gods or goddesses didn’t suit. Beautiful, but not distinct enough for the young man to have tracked and used as a trap. After all, many in Ala revered Avril.

But, ah, the little minx had tucked a memento into Eron’s pocket. Too bad they hadn’t had more time.

Now, the lordling had a story to tell, and Eron had a memory and a trinket. He and Kene both had a productive night.

Chapter Six

Eron stepped out of the stable of a town he’d become quite familiar with during the past twelve autumns and stared up at a clear sky. While the day would be cool, it promised to be clear—the perfect day for travelers.

And for hunters.

He turned back into the stable, going through the motions of readying a pretentious carriage for a trip to Hisar castle. The carriage had brought three men from Votrya: a driver, an older man whose body shouted of living in excess and who was apparently a duke, and a slender youth of perhaps twenty summers, fair of hair and face.

The last time Eron and Kene hunted, Eron had met a similar young lordling who had taken a kiss to ransom a medallion. Eron gladly took the kiss and would’ve taken more if time permitted, only to find the medallion tucked into his pocket later. He traced the outline of his new lucky token with one finger, smiling at the memory.

Soon, the Duke of Something or Other with the pretentious carriage, would swagger from the inn, his thoughts likely already turned to what favors he might win from the king. If Mistress Simona's accounting of valuables found in the duke’s rooms was true, he and Kene would return from the hunt with a remarkable prize.

The young, fair man stepped out of the inn. Oh, yes. Exquisite, indeed. Was he the duke’s son or a paramour? Either way might tempt Eron to once more exchange a kiss for a bauble or two.

Eron lifted the hood of his tunic and sauntered across the road. He’d taken it on good authority that he sauntered very well. The beauty gave Eron a quick once over, a come-hither smile tugging his lips upward. Oh, yes. Perfection. Eron had enjoyed entire nights with young lovelies like this, but only as Baroness Kennestone’s ward, not when he played a common thief.

Although Eron wasn’t much of a ward anymore at over twenty summers, Kene kept him around anyway, especially for hunting.

“Good day, sir,” Eron said in passing,

“Good day to you, as well.”

“Davin! What have I told you?” came a shrill voice. “Do not talk to the servants unless giving orders!” The portly duke waddled out the inn’s door. No fear of him recognizing Eron later, thanks to the concealing hood, and besides, as a perceived commoner, Eron fell beneath the duke’s notice.

“Yes, Uncle. I’m sorry, Uncle.”

Uncle? Had they been attending a ball, Eron would definitely ask Davin for a stroll in the moonlight. Perhaps more. Eron stood aside for his “betters” and then entered the inn, where Simona served him a bowl of stew. Let the carriage get a head start while he enjoyed a hearty meal.

---