Page 71 of Immortal Sentry

“I can’t!” Bain cradled his injured sword arm.

“You have another arm. Use it. While you can.” Bain must think Eron an unobservant fool not to have noticed he used his left hand to wield a fork or write a missive.

Bain lifted the sword and feigned a halfhearted thrust, then grinned. He charged at Eron, bringing his sword down in an overhead attack.

Eron parried and danced out of the way. He was lighter on his feet, younger, and better trained. But to keep from earning the title of murderer, he’d allow Bain every opportunity in a fair fight. All around, clangs of swords rang out, mixed with screams of fear, anger, and pain.

Eron trusted Kerric’s men to keep him safe enough to focus on his own opponent.

Bain attacked again. Eron whirled, grabbing a boot dagger and coming up behind Bain’s blade. He struck, burying the blade in Bain’s shoulder. Bain screamed.

“That is for my brother.” Eron danced away from Bain’s wildly flailing blade.

He glimpsed Lessa and Kene fighting Bain’s men back-to-back, hoods thrown back. Light and dark, they moved as one—or as two who’d spent hours practicing together and never forgot their lessons.

Bain yanked the dagger from his shoulder. Teeth gritted, he charged.

Eron brought his blade up, bracing for the impact. Bain impaled himself on the length of steel. His eyes widened. He looked down, a puzzled look on his face. Then he collapsed into a heap on the floor.

“That’s for me, Lessa, and Kerric.” Eron pushed Bain’s body off his blade with his boot and turned. “Also for Hentri, Anthone, and anyone else you’ve caused to suffer.”

Terrified courtiers stood screaming against the walls while soldiers fought soldiers, though Bain’s loyal guards were far fewer now. Malcolm and his men stood out; their silver hair and eyes set them apart. With no further need to guard Eron, they waded into the fray.

King Selin raised his sword high, preparing to bring it crashing down on Miisov. Kene launched herself with a warrior’s cry, neatly sliding between the blade and her father. She parried the blow with her sword, baring her teeth at Selin. “No. You’ll take nothing more from me.”

Selin attacked again, but as he focused on her sword, she drove the dagger in her other hand between his ribs. Blood dribbled from Selin’s lips. Kene stepped back, releasing her dagger and letting him crash to the floor.

His chest rose and fell. Miisov ran to attend him. Attend the monster who’d just tried to kill him? Eron gained a whole new respect for the mage.

Slowly, the fighting simmered as the enemies realized they had no more kings to fight for.

Kerric appeared in the doorway, bloody and bedraggled, but alive. He shouted over the din, “Duke Crau is dead. Lay down your swords or die with these treacherous bastards!” He stalked over to Bain’s body. “The false king is dead.”

Swords clanged to the floor.

“I don’t want to be king.” Eron tuned out all around him, focusing solely on Kerric, the only one who mattered at the moment. His heart pounded a frantic beat.

Kerric panted, blood marring his face, gauntlets, and chest plate. Even bruised and bloody, he was magnificent. “Then don’t be.”

“But if I don’t become king, you and your men will forever be cursed.” Never could Eron let that happen.

The bittersweet smile on Kerric’s face nearly broke Eron’s heart. Kerric cupped Eron’s cheek with one gauntleted hand. “That’s a chance I’m willing to take.”

“I can’t be selfish.”

“We aren’t simply talking about your choice, love. We’re talking about a kingdom, thousands who’ve suffered under Bain’s heartless rule. They need a strong leader who’ll think of them and do what is best for all, not for one or two.”

Eron wiped tears from his eyes with the back of his hand. Kerric had been his champion every step of the way, his guide, his mentor… his lover. Had Eron’s father once stood in this very room, making this same choice, or had he willingly allowed the crown to be placed upon his head?

Lessa's words came back to him when Eron told her he didn’t want to be king:“I’m told Father didn’t either, and look what a great king he turned out to be.”

Eron shouldn’t be king, not when he knew someone more deserving who’d rule so much better.

He needed another answer.

Lessa stepped forward, bloody sword in hand. She’d fought like a warrior today when many would have run away, considering this not their battle. “Brother, whatever your decision, I’ll stand by you.”

The only logical solution clicked into place.

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