Page 280 of Kingdoms of Night

“All right,” said Geraint. “Tell me what’s going on.”

In addition to their physical training and their chivalric etiquette training, Geraint also played therapist from time to time. Though those lay-down-and-tell-me what-you’re-feeling sessions had been few and far between.

“I’m not sure I can maintain my vows, sir. I’m not sure I’m cut out for this life.”

Geraint’s brows rose to his hairline. That was not what he’d expected Baysle to say. Though his temperament didn’t always win him friends, the squire’s skills were superior to every other in residence.

When Geraint was a young man and the sword had chosen him, he had had his own doubts. He was the youngest prince of his kingdom. His brothers were two of the most upstanding people he had ever known. But the sword skipped over them and chose him. It was big shoes to fill, and he’d had his doubts about his own character and whether he could live up to it or not.

“What’s brought these doubts on?” Geraint asked.

“Jaleesa.”

Geraint turned the word over in his head. Though he spoke a number of languages, he couldn’t place the word’s origin or meaning.

“She’s all I think about.”

“Ah.” It was a she.

“Part of a knight’s vows are ones of chastity,” Baysle continued, his shoulders slumping more. “I just don’t think I can manage it for years, let alone days.”

Geraint took a moment to press his lips together and hold his chuckle in. When he was Baysle’s age, he had been able to stave off most of those urges. But only because he was far more focused on his duty than his desires. If Enid had been anywhere upwind of him, he would’ve likely been decapitated the first day because he’d have lost his head over her. Literally and figuratively.

“Courting a young witch is allowed,” Geraint said.

Baysle wrinkled his nose and gave his head a shake. “I have to admit, I want to do more than court her.”

“If your intentions are less than honorable with this woman, then—"

“I haven’t taken her honor, sir.” Baysle held up his empty hands. His palms were red from where he’d been clenching his fists. “I have touched it a time or two.”

“Do you love this girl?”

Baysle shrugged. “How should I know? I’m barely thirty years old.”

In the magical realm, time moved at a different pace. But the human part of the people developed at the same rate. Meaning the squire, though advanced in human years, was still a teenager by magical standards.

“My mates tell me to go slake my lust with a human girl.”

That was the common advice given to most magical males.

“But why are human girls lesser than witches? Doesn’t it follow that my chivalry should extend to all the Goddess’ creatures?”

That was a very good point, and Geraint was glad Morgan wasn’t around to overhear this particular conversation.

“I don’t want any other girl, witch or human. I want Jaleesa. I just don’t know if I want her for right now or for forever. Forever is a long time for beings like us.”

It was. Geraint would reach three hundred years old before the turn of the next century. And he’d get to spend each day, each year, each decade with Enid. The notion filled his heart with more excitement than he thought it was capable of containing.

“How did you know, sir?”

Baysle looked up at him with earnest eyes. The weight of his shoulders looked lighter. An ember was starting to glow in his green eyes, something that looked like hope.

“I...?”

And here Geraint paused. He knew with a certainty that he wanted only Enid. But when had he known that? How did he know that?

“You don’t immediately know,” Geraint said finally. “That’s why you court her.”

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