Page 51 of Immortal Sentry

Permanence wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Or maybe Eron had gotten to a point in life where he’d crossed the line from fiercely independent to having a void in his life another person could fill.

That Kerric could fill. Or maybe the realization that they couldn’t be permanent made him want their moments together to last.

But why couldn’t they be permanent? What stood in their way? Well, a curse, for starters, and the difference in social status. After all, Eron was a thief, Kerric a guard sworn to uphold law and order. Though Eron’s thievery benefitted those in need, not himself. Kene’s ancestors had left her with ample wealth to pass to her heir. Wealth used to keep those within the walls of her estate safe and healthy.

Then there was Bain, Crau, Selin, and any number of others who’d just as soon see Eron dead. And the whole “king” thing that caused Eron to shudder.

Would it be odd to sneak up to the ramparts just to be in Kerric’s presence for a little while? But no. While the straw that Eron had balanced over the door proved his guards hadn’t entered while he’d been out, someone might notice if he went missing during the day.

Far safer to stay here, watching the winding road leading to the castle. All morning, carriages had passed the spot where he and Kene used to plan ambushes. He imagined holding up each one and what valuables he might find: bags of gold coins, diamond necklaces, ruby earrings, a sapphire pin….

Would he discover another lovely young man to kiss? No, kissing brought to mind Kerric, and anyone else faded into the distance.

Two carriages he’d been tracking rolled to a stop in front of the castle, surrounded by armed men on horseback. He’d already seen three more carriages of servants and luggage directed to theback, all bearing the same crest upon their door. Not a moment too soon, as snow accumulated on the road.

The two coaches out front appeared new, even though a layer of road dirt marred their dark exteriors. The hunter in Eron longed to lie in wait for those two elegant conveyances. Oh, the riches surely hiding within.

His heart sped at both the prospect of waylaying the coaches and the possibility that one of them might be the one he’d waited for. Most of his morning had been filled with disappointment as carriage after carriage unloaded men, women, and children, but none of them resembled what little of Lessa he recalled.

A man stepped from the first carriage, resplendent in a green tunic and brown breeches tucked into shiny boots peeking through his cloak. He held a cane but didn’t use it to stand. He had to be nearly as old as Bain appeared to be, with flyaway gray hair. While his stature and physique were likely pleasing to some, his pinched expression implied he’d smelled something unpleasant.

A servant opened the second carriage. Two boys jumped out, nearly the same age as Eron when he’d lost his family, with hair a riot of black curls. The elder of the two turned around and offered his arm. How gallant. A gloved hand emerged to grip his elbow, and then a woman stepped out, dark hair piled onto her head. She lifted the hood of her cloak, shadowing her face.

The sense of familiarity hit Eron in the chest. Memories of a younger version of this woman returned, hair worn long down her back, drawing back a bow and letting fly.There, Eron. That’s how it’s done. Come here. I’ll show you how to hold the bow.The memory of lavender filled his senses. Lavender. She’d worn lavender tucked into her bodice.

Lessa had been a better rider than Dafron. She understood and explained to Eron when their father told them things beyond his comprehension. She was also strong-willed, quick-witted, and educated with her brothers at Father’s insistence. When nobles whispered about Lessa’s lack of ladylike behavior, she confronted them quietly but always left them with a new respect for her. She’d wielded words as cleverly as a rapier.

Lessa would make a wonderful queen if her husband listened to her counsel. Did he? If she taught her sons like she’d taught Eron, they’d both grow into men of integrity.

Lessa glanced up, gaze locking with Eron’s. Her eyes widened, but something her younger son said pulled her attention away. Had she recognized him from such a distance? He was sitting in the window of her brother’s room. Perhaps she’d not expected to see anyone in this window. Whatever the case, Miisov swore she’d not say anything without first investigating.

Oh, but to see her. Talk to her. Tell her all the things Eron had likely never said to her as a child. He wasn’t alone anymore. She’d survived through the battle that claimed her family and the living nightmare of her spouse.

Eron’s heart ached. If only Kerric was there to hold and reassure him, all would be well.

He felt hands on his shoulders, and the merest touch of warm lips brushed Eron’s neck. He turned, smiling, but no one was there. Had want made him imagine Kerric’s presence? He shook his head at his foolish imaginings.

What did Kerric do during the daytime? Was he awake and conscious or sleeping? He’d mentioned watching the comings and goings of others and observing Eron as Lordling Night. When Lessa and her sons entered the castle, something in the ancient pile of stones seemed to groan in relief. Had the same happened when Eron returned? He’d been unconscious, so he couldn’t know.

He heard shuffling footsteps behind him and turned, daring to hope. His hope plummeted. Not Kerric, who only appeared at night. Miisov stood in saffron-colored formal robes in front ofthe hidden passageway, staff in hand. His sleeves and front were embroidered with colorful, intricate patterns. He’d even combed his hair and trimmed his beard. Lessa should feel honored. “I see you’ve noticed your sister’s arrival.”

“She looks well. So do her boys.”

“Relatively speaking, they are. However, the life she lives is not the one she’d have chosen for herself or her offspring. Despite having a loathsome sire, I’m told the boys are charming, thanks to their mother’s influence.”

From what Eron recalled of their youth, Lessa had been anything but charming. A bit of a brat, actually. The thought warmed him from within. His memories were returning, the good and the bad. He’d also changed with time. It only stood to reason that Lessa had, too.

He tried to keep eagerness from his voice. “When can I see her?”

Miisov shuffled over to join Eron by the window. “I’ll do my best to hurry the meeting.”

Unfamiliar emotion gripped Eron—what might’ve been uncertainty. “How can I prevent her death? Won’t Bain merely find another assassin if I fail?”

Miisov placed a surprisingly warm hand on Eron’s shoulder, bringing to mind the phantom touch of moments ago when Eron thought Kerric had joined him.

“Prince Eron, now that the key pieces are on the game board, I expect events to move quickly. I wouldn’t be a bit surprised to discover Bain deposed and you in your rightful place by a ten-day.”

A ten-day? “You have more faith than I.” Eron went back to staring out of the window, though at this point, even the carriages and armed guards had departed, leaving nothing that he hadn’t seen daily.

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