Page 47 of Immortal Sentry

Eron wrapped his arms around Kerric’s neck, slanting his mouth over Kerric’s. Kerric couldn’t stop a groan, though his face heated at the prospect of his men overhearing. He broke the kiss long enough to say, “Can we take this somewhere else?”

Eron grinned, his eyes shining. Damned if the sight wouldn’t keep Kerric warm, even if he had to perch on the ramparts as a naked human in a snowstorm. “I think my room might be out of the question. Someone might be listening, and those horrible tapestries.” He exaggerated a shudder. “I remember much about the castle but not the grounds. Can you show me? We can start with the stables. Seems I recall a nice soft hayloft.”

The words came out of Kerric’s mouth before he could stop them. “No, my prince. If I am to bed you, it won’t be like a stolen moment with some willing stableboy in a place reeking of manure.” The moment he’d spoken, he realized the truth of the words. This wasn’t a fellow soldier to entertain behind the barracks. This was a prince, his prince, to be adored and treated to the finest luxuries. Judging by the coarseness of Eron’s callused palms against Kerric’s cheeks, the scars on his knuckles, and other assorted healed wounds visible when he’d exited the bath, he didn’t live the softest of lives.

A life he deserved.

Eron’s expression turned somber. “Never let it be said you don’t speak sweet words. But, excellent point. Tell me what’s your favorite part of the grounds before I swoon further.”

Kerric ignored the playful verbal joust and took Eron’s hand. “Come with me.” He led Eron down one floor, where they accessed another of those useful servants’ passages leading to a dark alcove behind the kitchens, scarcely lit at this time of night. No one stirred in the cavernous space as they made their way down a hallway and outside.

The night air held hints of wood smoke from dozens of chimneys, lord and commoner alike turning to wood fires to drive back the fall chill. Kerric ran an appraising gaze over Eron, ensuring he’d dressed appropriately for the weather. His cloak should keep him warm.

What a risk this was. Kerric must be out of his mind. He’d tell himself that the stress of the past few days left them both in need of relief. That they’d simply be that release for each other.

Nothing more.

Kerric didn’t feel the cold, as though he still wore the gargoyle’s impenetrable stone skin. The moon shone high above, with a few thin clouds among the stars. He released Eron’s hand, cupping the small of his back instead. The heat of Eron’s skin seemed to penetrate even his clothing and the cloak.

“Be careful. I’ll guide you,” Kerric murmured into Eron’s ear. “I probably see better than you do.” Why hadn’t he thought to bring a lantern?

Eron pulled a glowing light from under the neckline of his tunic, attached to a leather thong around his neck. “Miisov gave me this.” The enchanted stone shone gently, illuminating the path without giving enough light to anyone observing from above. They just needed to watch for patrols.

“Do you remember the gardens?” Kerric asked. The guards would soon make their rounds, making the ramparts unsafe.

“Some,” Eron replied, head cocked to the side at an appealing angle. “I recall a statue of a maid feeding geese and another of a shepherd. I always thought the shepherd watched the maid too closely.”

“There is a legend about a shepherd and a goose girl. Look up.” Kerric pointed. “Do you see that bright star? Now, follow it down. That’s the shepherd’s staff. And if you look over there, you’ll see the girl.” He looped a finger through the air, tracing out the figures from memory of his father having once done the same for him.

“I see them. The statues are like the stars?”

“Yes.” Kerric tucked Eron against his side, a bold gesture for a mere guard with a royal, but Eron brought out his protective instincts. “The story is that your great-great-grandfather was setupon by thieves. The chaos separated him from his guards. He found himself alone in a strange place and followed the stars to find his way home. His queen had those statues created to honor the stars that had saved her husband.”

“She cared for him? I know many royal marriages are for reasons other than love. I think my father and mother loved each other.”

Kerric nodded, though Eron probably couldn’t see the gesture. “Yes, they adored each other. As did your great-great-grandparents and your grandparents. Sadly, your great-grandsire was known as a womanizer. His queen despised him. With reason, I’m told. That king took many mistresses, Bain’s mother among them. Unlike the others, though, Bain’s mother was a titled noble, which both she and Bain believed gave him a right to the throne. He joined with your sister’s husband to overthrow your father and have the family killed.”

Eron whirled, pulling away. “My sister’s husband was in on the plot?”

“He wasn’t her husband then. Bain forced her to marry King Selin, likely in payment for his help.”

“My sister was forced to marry our father’s murderer? Bear him children?” Eron’s outrage broke the stillness, scaring nightbirds into flight.

“Shh.… You must keep your voice down. There is no telling who might overhear.” Kerric kept his voice low while still expressing his outrage. “Yes, your sister wed against her will, like many princesses before her. I’m told many noblewomen set their caps for your father with no force required, though. The men of your kin being, by and large, good husbands.”

“Except for a few.”

“Except for a few,” Kerric agreed. “One whose indiscretion likely ruined your family line.”

“If my father loved my mother, why did he remarry? He already had heirs.”

“Your father married your mother for love. He was brokenhearted after she died and said he didn’t want another queen. When his advisors pressured him to take another, he did so for political alliance, though Queen Jaidia’s father was soon overthrown. He had hoped your father would send support, but it quickly became obvious he didn’t deserve it. Your father didn’t suffer fools and wouldn’t join the cause of his new bride’s father. Jaidia was ambitious and planned to give your father a new son who’d take Dafron’s place as heir.” Kerric’s answer came from gossip and firsthand knowledge.

“But for that to happen, she’d have to kill Dafron. And me.”

Kerric nodded. “I’m grateful that didn’t happen. She is now married to Bain, creating a pair of snakes intent on surpassing each other with their depravity. She never gave birth, though the same could not be said for Bain’s many mistresses.”

They resumed walking, dead leaves crunching under their boots—leaves soon to be covered with snow once the weather turned cooler. Had snow already fallen in Splosia?

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