Page 18 of The King's Bodyguard
With each passing day and week, I had begun to truly struggle. Every waking moment, my mind was focused on Landis. It was no surprise. My work involved standing behind his chair, walking a few paces behind him, or guarding his chamber while he slept. As a Munni who walked in the shadows of night, I was only able to glimpse him for a few hours in the early evening and then in the morning when he rose for the day.
Regardless, my entire world revolved around the young king. All of our efforts were devoted to the security of the throne... and the wedding in particular. Within a few months, Landis would be wedded, and it was up to Lord Elthorne and his guards to ensure that the bonding rituals would be held without a hitch. To that end, both Sunna and Munni officers would gather to discuss security arrangements for the palace, the city, and the countryside beyond.
Like his ancestors, Landis would be wedded among the Standing Stones of Averlee. It was a gentle grassy hill surrounded by a thick forest just outside the city. Atop the hill, ancient paving stones had been erected aloft in an archaic circle of monoliths. A narrow road that had recently been cobbled with flat paving stones led up to this sacred site.
The entire route would take a half hour for a one-way trip. It would conceivably take longer should the crowds manage to bar the king’s way as he left the city. That meant that anyone harboring ill intent toward the king would have much time andopportunity to launch an ambush. Lord Elthorne, Lord Gareth, and Ser Hugh worked tirelessly to ensure the route would be secured.
I, alongside other high-ranking officers, was trapped in hour-long councils and meetings, where the minutiae of the wedding preparations were discussed in mind-numbing detail. For some of the younger officers, these meetings might have felt interminable, but as I spent more time at Landis’s side, I found myself increasingly invested in his safety.
It was apparent that even though many of the landed and aristocratic folk did not necessarily wish their king ill, quite a few were less than respectful around him. A few clearly did not trust Landis to lead the country forward, despite the fact that Landis himself worked night and day to support his people.
Alright, I amended.Night and day might be a bit hyperbolic. But how many times have we caught him sleeping at his desk or on the sofa before the fire?
On those occasions, I had ended up gently lifting him into my arms. Most times, Landis would instinctively curl closer, burying his head into my shoulder. He would mumble something about just needing a bit longer before going to sleep. I always ignored him. Placing Landis in his four-poster bed, I would gently remove his stockings and his outer jacket and vest.
This had become our new ritual, and tonight it was no different. When I poked my head into the royal bedchamber to check on the king, I found Landis, once again slumped over his desk. The fire on the hearth had died down, lending a bracing chill to the night air. I enjoyed the autumnal breeze, but I could see from the shiver of Landis’s tail that he was getting too cold.
For a second, I hesitated. In the gentle glow of the candlesticks, Landis’s hair once again glowed like molten gold. As I bent down to take Landis’s wrist, I enjoyed the feel of his soft skin and the gentle rhythm of his pulse. Carefully, I wrappedmy arm around his shoulders, shifting him back. Landis’s eyelids fluttered half-open.
“C-Corrin?” He slurred sleepily.
“Shhh...” I hushed him.
My arm slid under his thighs. Without a hitch, I rose with him in my arms. Landis sighed contentedly and twined his arms around my neck. If I could, I would have stood holding him for hours, but Landis, despite his slight build and seeming softness, was all muscle. Not wishing to drop him, I carefully made my way over to his bed.
When he eased against the pillows, Landis moaned unhappily. His hand clung to my neck, twisted in the folds of my cloak. Gently, I eased his fingers free. Then, I began to work off his shoes and his socks. Landis, eyes half-closed, fumbled at the high-collared shirt he had worn that evening. If rumors were correct, Landis had attended a dinner with Lady Hartford and the Elthornes which had ended with an unofficial meeting about the arrival of the princess.
With his shoes and socks removed, I watched as his tanned feet arched against the brilliant jewel-blue quilt. Then Landis’s limbs began to relax, and his hands stopped their blind work on his shirt. I tore my gaze away from the sight of skin and focused on helping the king divest himself of his jacket and vest.
Recalling how tight his collared shirt was, I unbuttoned the first few buttons. It would be enough to help him breathe easily. My fingers lingered there, hovering over his open shirt where his now half-bared chest rose and fell. As Landis breathed in, my fingertips grazed the edge of his breastbone and the neat arc of his collarbone. Warm and velvety, yet hard and firm. Like the echoing swell of desire that now filled my breeches. I jerked my hand back and took a deep breath in a vain attempt to quell the scent of my desire and the strain of my erection. I drew my gaze away from Landis.
Before I could reach down to pull over the folded-back blue quilt cover, however, Landis’s hand suddenly rose to rest on mine. I glanced back up and realized that he was looking at me through half-lidded eyes ringed with heavy gold lashes. He looked sleepy, but far from incapable of putting himself to bed properly. The minx.
A smile curled at the edge of my lips regardless. A smile that faded as Landis arched himself a little. His eyes seemed to ask me a question that he himself didn’t quite know how to pose. As his gaze wandered downwards, the tip of his pink tongue wet his bottom lip.
He was ready for me in so many ways. My heart turned over and then began to race. I was now hard with desire. Red pumped through my veins and washed over my vision until I could see nothing. I could only hear the thrum of our twinned heartbeats. I fought hard to control myself even as my body ached for the touch of his hand on my straining cock.
“Have a good rest, your majesty,” I growled softly.
Somehow I managed to get out of the room before I lost my head entirely. As much as I dreaded the upcoming royal nuptials, I felt as though time was dragging its heels. If Landis didn’t get bedded soon, so help me, Meryn, I was going to do it.
Princess Erellia arrived at the king’s court a fortnight later. When her forerunners entered the yard, two hours before sundown, a major portion of the city and the palace had turned out to greet her. People cheered and whistled in the street. The princess of Esteria had arrived! In a few months’ time, after proper courtship, the princess would wed King Landis in the sight of the gods and his people.
Upon the herald’s arrival, a flock of doves was seen to lift across the castle’s battlements. An omen of Meryn, the maids whispered. The gods themselves gave a blessing to the young couple.
Landis, standing at the head of his court, waited patiently for the carriage to make its way up the hill to the castle and over the drawbridge. Once the carriage and six had been drawn up, a footstool was brought forth. Everyone waited agog as a pale hand rested on the door.
Someone wearing a gray and blue dress beneath a deep blue mantle edged with fur stood at the door of the carriage. When the molly raised her head, everyone gasped. Judging by the wrinkles that lined her face and the hard line between her eyebrows, this kinsmolly was a lady of some years. Sixty winters at least. Perhaps it was the princess’s companion?
That was my guess, but when she descended, the footmen waited in vain. There was no one else inside the carriage. Everyone was looking at King Landis to see his reaction to the absurd situation. Landis with a smile pasted on his face was the very picture of urbane politeness. Even as he descended the stairs, he looked like a gilt picture of athletic beauty.
Upon reaching the bottom, King Landis bowed neatly. The elderly molly executed a shallow curtsey. Her beady brown eyes were fixed on Landis with a mild disapproving air. She sniffed and held a handkerchief to her nose as though smelling some noxious odor.
“Milady,” Landis said with great aplomb. “Many pardons, but we were expecting-”
“A princess?” One of the front-running scouts asked cheekily.
The scout was a young molly with a loose bun of chestnut brown hair, deeply tanned skin, and sparkling hazel eyes. Although she wore the same uniform as the others—a royal red and black—it was clear that this athletic young molly was farfrom ordinary. There was a regal poise to her carriage, and the way she handled her stallion spoke to years of superior training. This was the princess.
