Page 52 of Immortal Sentry

“I don’t need faith because I have experience. I’ve seen many things transpire, enough to measure the ebb and flow. Besides, my lord Hyteus has assured me of our course of action.”

Hyteus, The God of Magic and Change. “Avril has remained quiet. As has Zetuna. At least, to my ears.” Eron envied those who believed they knew the will of their god or goddess. He’d never held much stock in anything but gods being aloof beings, watching from on high, who never took part in the day-to-day lives of their worshippers.

Or placed bets on who would fail and who would succeed.

But while Eron didn’t worship faithfully, a man had to believe in something lest he be lost. He prayed more and more lately, too. It couldn’t hurt, right?

“You pray to Avril?” Miisov’s eyebrows rose over his prodigious nose. “Why? Gertia is the goddess of the nobility.”

“I haven’t been noble in quite some time. Well, not a prince. Kene prays to Avril.” Avril, both god and goddess over everyone who didn’t already have a higher power to worship. Eron preferred Zetuna, the Goddess of Commoners.

Miisov remained quiet for a few moments. “Then Elza… Kene truly has turned away from the old ways. At one time, I had hoped.…” He shook his head. “It is of little concern. Perhaps it is time for mages to become a thing of the past, only discussed in legend. Far too often, our meddling does more harm than good, and our most sacred vow is not to cause harm. Magic is too fickle a mistress to predict.”

Eron shifted his head to the side, regarding Miisov with exaggerated thoughtfulness. “I could always take you on as an apprentice hunter. Though I’m not sure you’d be agile enough to climb trees and drop onto the tops of carriages.”

Miisov patted Eron’s hand where it rested on the windowsill. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I like my bones unbroken, thank you. I never excelled at healing spells and made a miserableLord Night. Imagine a thief more interested in the lavender and sage ladies tucked into their belongings than gold.” He gave a sheepish smile. “They’re good potion ingredients.”

Oh, the horrors! “Tell me of Kerric.”

The room temperature dropped a few degrees, judging by the sudden chill emanating from Miisov. “What do you want to know?”

“Is he a good man? Am I right to trust him?” If Eron asked the same question enough, perhaps he’d get a reassuring answer.

“I wouldn’t have put him in your path if you couldn’t. While my actions might appear altruistic, I can assure you I have my own best interests at heart, and keeping you safe benefits me. Therefore, I do my best toward that end.”

Eron didn’t believe the old mage for a moment. While self-preservation might be part of the motive, Miisov’s driving force was to correct a wrong as much as possible. No one could undo the past, not even Avril or Hyteus.

The silence grew suffocating. Eron changed the topic. “Tonight is the formal dinner. Has King Bain provided me with acceptable clothing? Will I have the use of a valet to help me prepare?” How he missed his valet back at Kene’s estate, useless though the man might be at his job. However, he had a keen eye for fashion.

A twinkle appeared in Miisov’s eyes. “During the banquet, none will doubt you are who you say you are. You’ll be a shining jewel.”

“Won’t people recognize me?”

Miisov blew out a breathy laugh. “My dear, in the court, everyone holds some kind of ill will toward others. They’ll see only your beauty.”

“Won’t they remark on my resemblance to Lessa?”

“Just for tonight, I’ve expended additional energy to keep you anonymous to all but those who need to see you for who you are.”

Eron flinched away. “That’s not ominous in the least.”

“It wasn’t intended to be. One of the first lessons a mage learns is how to be vague and noncommittal, the better to avoid accountability later.” Miisov winked. “Now, rest before dinner. I have a feeling a long night stretches before us both.”

A long night in which Eron might or might not encounter Kerric.

A yawn overtook him, though he’d not been in the least bit tired mere moments ago. “Perhaps I should heed the wise old mage’s advice—before he changes his mind.”

Miisov chuckled as he left the room.

A long night. A coup to plan. From what Miisov exposed of his inner workings, he wasn’t one to leave matters to chance, not something as important as restoring a kingdom. No doubt he’d planned everything down to the last detail but didn’t feel the need to share. Which only made Eron wonder how bad the night could get.

Eron awakened in his bed to the sound of soft humming, with an occasional line or two of song thrown in for good measure, sung in a resonant tenor and another language. He snuggled among the rumpled covers, enjoying the offering, though unable to make out the words.

He knew the voice. For a moment, Eron latched on to a fantasy of Kerric entering the room naked, sliding into the bed, and sliding into Eron. Those hard muscles would feel so good under Eron’s fingertips, that tight ass flexing as he… Eron gave his erection a lazy stroke, then sighed and thought of picking corn, rearranging the library shelves—anything to get his cockto behave. Kerric was here to help, not be another one of Eron’s conquests.

Yes, he planned to have Kerric in this bed, but now might not be the time. He rearranged the covers to hide any hint of his lascivious thoughts. “Kerric, you can come in.”

Kerric strode through the bedchamber door from the sitting room. “Good evening, Your Highness.”

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