Page 1 of The King's Bodyguard
Chapter 1
Landis
Isurvived a bloody coup, a battle for the throne, and a five-year war. Now, I have to survive an arranged marriage.
“Your Highness,” Lord Berran’s calm voice broke into the chaotic muddle of my thoughts. “Surely you must have foreseen the inevitable steps that must be taken if we are to broker peace with Esteria.”
“The people of Esteria and Sumarene will be pleased, I’m sure.” I managed to force out the words as I processed the bind I suddenly found myself in. “You will excuse me for not sharing their joy.”
An awkward silence ensued. My gaze drifted around the room. Seated as I was on the throne of Sumarene, I was able to consider my subjects and advisers easily. One, in particular, stood out—my cousin, Lord Morne, the eternal thorn in my side.
From the top of his styled curly brown hair and finely shaved ears down to his sharp-tipped, manicured tail, my cousin was the very picture of snarky jubilation. There was something aboutthe way he stroked his short mustache and goatee that set my teeth on edge.
He’s laughing at me, I seethed to myself. I was honestly doing my best to keep calm and pretend like Lord Berran’s words hadn’t hit home, but it was difficult. Usually, Lord Morne didn’t attend state meetings, but I supposed he couldn’t pass up the chance to watch me hear the bad news.
And it was bad news. After all, no young catkin would want to hear that his life of freedom was to be cut short. Nineteen years of freedom come to an end. I rubbed my forehead, suddenly feeling a headache coming on. I never asked for this. I never wanted this. Suddenly, I found myself in the center of it all—the youngest son of the illustrious Sumarene royal family. The youngest and the last living direct member of the line.
Just thinking about it all over again threatened to bring me to tears. I blinked hard, took a deep breath, and focused on the conversation.
“I am certain our King is ready to do his duty by his people,” Lord Elthorne, the experienced leader of my army, was saying with his usual slow cadence.
The steady rumble of his gruff voice helped me calm down a little. I shifted my hand down to stroke the fluffy tip of my golden tail. Sensitive to my emotion, my tail in particular would betray how I truly felt. All of my fur had bristled at the announcement. Even if my face had somehow remained unmoved, my tail and ears had no doubt betrayed me.
Glancing back at Lord Morne’s face, I could see the smug satisfaction pasted there on his lips. The way his dark, pig-like eyes surveyed me held undeniable happiness. He was practically looking me over like I was some lamb prime for butchering. No doubt he was waiting to see what I would do. Lord Morne was ever ready to take my place after all. My tail began to bristle again. I mutinously looked away.
“-and so, King Norran of Esteria wishes to cement a treaty,” Lord Elthorne continued on, “and it would behoove us to answer. In the positive, your Highness. That is my advice. His daughter is...” Here, the gruff general hesitated. “Of age and comely to boot, I am sure. The entire line comes from solid Sunna stock.”
I struggled to repress another sigh. As if I cared about how pretty this princess was. I wasn’t interested in marriage. Not right now anyways. Some day, I could see myself making a family with the molly—or tom—who captured my heart. But now it seemed as though I would have no choice about the timing or my partner.
“Have you seen the lady?” asked Lord Berrymay. As my Court’s treasurer, he was particularly invested in a well-arranged marriage.
“Alas, since the war, all communication with Esteria has been fraught with uncertainty. There was evidence of them, er, well, playing multiple sides, so to speak, leading up to the battle,” Lord Elthorne said.
“As we all knew,” my trusted confidante, Lord Gareth Wright, muttered.
“Indeed,” Lord Elthorne sighed.
This had been a common enough conversation at the war table over the past few months. There have been voices of skepticism mingled with those of reason. I well knew that Sumarene couldn’t afford to anger its northern neighbor, Esteria, especially since Esteria had not taken advantage of Sumarene’s weakness during the civil war.
Of course, I thought.We must form these alliances, but... but...Just thinking about it made me feel even more trapped.
“But they sided with us,” I said. “It would make me an ingrate to spurn their gestures of peace.”
“And marriage would further consolidate the throne,” Lord Berrymay added.
Ah. Yes. Marriage. That word.I shivered at the mental image. Waiting in the ritual circle among the Standing Stones as my bride mounted the steps to take my hand. I couldn’t help but groan at the thought. Slumping back on the throne, I tried to cheer myself up. Nothing helpful came to mind. There was nothing that I could say.
They are right, I realized. My heart sank within my chest as reality set in. There was truly no way out. At the age of nineteen, I would be married to a girl just out of her majority. We would be wed in the sight of the gods, and I would be dangling a babe within a year. Just the thought of holding a baby in my arms had my heart racing. I wasn’t ready for this! Gods, no—not yet.
I rose to my feet, mumbled something about making arrangements, and fled the room. Cousin Morne didn’t have to say anything. The bastard simply chuckled. His laughter spurred me on. I whipped out of the room, feeling even more embarrassed and upset. A red flush had risen to my cheeks. Clapping my hands to my face, I raced down the hall. I blindly made my way down one set of stairs and a long gallery to the eastern ante-room which opened to an upper terrace garden surrounded by the graceful arches of a peristyle.
Someone called out after me. I ignored them. Turning the corner, I ran into the hard wall of something unexpected. My nose was suddenly buried in the soft folds of a tunic held back by a studded leather chest piece. I found myself overwhelmed by the scent of horses, sun-drenched hay, and pine. With that came memories—memories of a happier time.
For a moment, I wanted to hang on. I swayed forward. I wanted to bury my head in the soft folds of the tunic. My hands instinctively clung to firm biceps. The biceps of a soldier or a servant. The thought brought me to my senses.
Blushing hard, I stepped back and raised my chin haughtily. It was difficult to maintain my composure though. There was something comforting about the arms that seemed to embrace me. I was imagining it, of course. No one really cared about the King of Sumarene.
“Your Majesty?” A voice, faintly familiar, was asking me. “Are you unwell?”
