Page 279 of Kingdoms of Night

And still Geraint thrust into her, his movements losing their finesse and growing frantic until he pulled her impossibly closer and jerked to a hold.

Enid felt his release as his seed poured into her. She watched his face as his features contorted into ecstasy. It was the most wondrous thing to feel him flowing inside of her. She felt her inner organs take in his seed as though it were sustenance.

The thought of seeds brought a cloud over the sunshine they’d created together. Enid’s hold loosened, and she closed her eyes, her body suddenly weary from the coupling.

“What is it? Did I hurt you?” Geraint ran a gentle fingertip across her temple.

“No, no, not at all.”

“You’re crying.”

Enid hadn’t even noticed that the tears had formed in her eyes.

“Enid, please—“

She lifted her head. “I promise you, you have made me happier than I ever thought possible.”

His gaze searched hers for a moment before a smile of pleasure broke across his face. He tucked her head under his chin and lay down on the mattress with her cradled in his arms. It was the first time in her life that Enid had been cuddled, and it left her feeling awful. She’d promised him no more lies, and here she’d told the biggest one of her life to the only man, the only being she had ever cherished.

Her husband was a good man. Unfortunately, he hadn’t married a good woman.

Enid hadn’t wanted children until she’d become his wife. All she had ever wanted was her autonomy, control over her life, and a secure place to plant her roots. Geraint had given her all those things. He hadn’t asked for a child. But she wanted to give one to him. Now, with his seed inside of her, she knew for certain that she never could.

CHAPTERTWENTY

The sound of clanging swords filled the air. It was a sound Geraint had always found pleasing to his ears.Only iron can sharpen iron, his father was fond of saying.

It was his father who had taught Geraint the skill of sword fighting. His father fought unlike any of the other men at Camelot. With his curved blade and his swirling movements, it looked like he was dancing. But the dip at the conclusion of the dance always ended with his father standing over his opponent, who lay slumped on the ground.

Geraint stepped over the curly-haired squire Yuric, who had been bested by Maurice, another knight in training. Maurice’s dark eyes sparked with triumph as he looked down at his best friend. Maurice, a mountain of a young man to Yuric’s tall, thin, reedy figure, pumped his fist in the air, taking his gaze off his opponent. Yuric took advantage of the victory dance to sweep his friend’s legs out from under him.

Maurice went down with a mighty thud that shook the ground of the training room. He glared up at his friend. “Did you just Cobra Kai me? Where’s the honor in that?”

“You do realize Cobra Kai has his own television show now.”

“On a streaming service,” Maurice said, getting back to his feet and taking a fighting stance once more. “Not a movie franchise.”

The two friends went at it again.

Sword meeting sword was a sign of the skills of his young charges advancing. Grunts of effort were another. However, Geraint’s mind kept thinking back to another high-pitched sound.

He had become addicted to Enid’s cries of pleasure. They were always coupled with his grunts of ecstasy. For the past week of nights, he’d taken his wife to bed, and in the shower, and in the closet, and even on the floor. And yet he still hadn’t had his fill of her sweetness.

“Ouch! Watch what you’re doing, you sarding swive.”

Geraint looked up at the young men gathered, determined to find out where the curse came from. As the knight in charge of the squires’ training, he took it upon himself not only to teach the young men about fighting, but about honor and chivalry as well. Though boys may be boys, that kind of language would not be tolerated under his tutelage.

Percy had been in charge while Geraint was away. The squires had all gone lax in their forms as well as with their tongues under the wily knight’s instructions.

Pinpointing the curse bringer, Geraint was surprised to learn that it had come from his own personal squire. Baysle was a man of good family and breeding, which was specifically the reason Geraint had selected him.

“What’s gotten into you, Baysle?” said Geraint, coming up to the boy. “That is not language befitting someone of your station.”

“Sorry, sir.” The young man hung his head.

Geraint couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen the proud squire looking so dejected. It should be a time of celebration for him. Along with Yuric and Maurice, Baysle was set to pass his trials and be knighted. But his shoulders hunched and his chest caved in as though the weight of the world was on his back.

Taking the sword from Baysle, Geraint guided his young charge over to a seating area in the training room. Once there, he sat Baysle down and took the seat beside him.

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