Page 4 of The King's Bodyguard
Landis extended a hand. I took his in my own. My leather gloves barred the touch of our skin. It made me wonder what it would feel like, to grasp his hand in mine once again. In that fleeting moment, I couldn’t help but notice the fine-boned fingers.A noble hand, I thought. First, I gave proper obeisance,allowing my lips to briefly graze the knuckles of our King. The muscles within Landis stiffened a little, but he said nothing.
I rose to my feet and gazed down at him. Landis appeared to be staring at the fountain in a daze. He now clasped the hand he had extended to his chest as though it were not a part of him. A blush darkened the golden brown of his cheeks. Looking at the way he held himself, the way his shoulders turned in protectively, the way he ducked his head, Landis looked more vulnerable than ever.
“I—“ Landis’s voice was soft. “I-I’m still not used to—I mean...” He floundered a little and then glanced up at me, offering a shy smile. “It’s still a little new to me.”
“It is new to all of us,” I said.
Understatement of the century. When the death count at Marrasol had been declared, when the royal standards had been retrieved, and the bodies discovered and identified, the entire country had to come to grips with the fact that the various outcomes they had fought for would never come to fruition. Instead, the forgotten son of the King’s third wife would take the throne. The son no one had cared to cultivate.
At the time, Prince Landis had still not achieved his majority. His distant cousin, Lord Morne, stepped forward as regent. The regency lasted only a short time. Within a year, Landis had celebrated his eighteenth winter. His time had come to rule, but it was clear to many that the newly appointed king was little more than a kit.
But he isn’t a kit, I thought.He is a young tom who simply needs our help, support, and protection.
“But we are here for you, my King,” I said quietly.
At my words, Landis’s blue eyes sparkled. Behind him, his fluffy golden tail flicked from side to side, and his ears perked up a little.
“You are?” he asked.
I barely repressed a chuckle at that. He had completely ignored the ‘we’. Apparently, he was more excited to see me than anyone else. Shooting him a grin, I nodded.
“I am,” I said. “As of today, I have been assigned to the Royal Guard. I look forward to serving you,” I added with a light drawl, “Your Majesty.”
Chapter 3
Landis
At Corrin’s words, my eyes widened.Corrin is assigned to the Royal Guard. Since when? Why had Lord Elthorne not notified me?I mentally ran through the most recent meetings I had with the old, gray-haired general. Lord Elthorne had mentioned supplementing the Royal Guard with a complement of Munni catkin.There had been some kind of discussion...
Ah, yes.Lord Berrymay and Lord Elthorne had argued over the matter of the Royal Guard. Lord Elthorne hoped to honor the agreement my father made with the Munni kinsmen of Velamere. Some kind of treaty was brokered by the Circle. The Munni Seeresses and Matriarchs had gathered to swear allegiance to the crown in return for royal favors.
It pleased Father, but he never saw it to fruition. Lord Elthorne hoped to capitalize on the foundation my father laid, I mused.What better way to unite the country as we rebuilt than to draw upon the aid of our Munni kinsmen? But there aresome, like Berrymay who view the worshippers of the Moon with suspicion.
“I remember something of it,” I said tentatively. “There was—“
I stiffened as I realized what my next words might have conveyed to Corrin.
“Some debate?” Corrin asked, following me as I found a low bench beneath one of the oak trees.
I winced. Corrin was perceptive. The Corrin of old had been rash and outspoken. He had always gotten us into trouble with his wild plans, his unruly tongue, and his thirst for adventure. In some ways, I had simply been tagging along, but I never regretted it. Not ever.
Suddenly, I was back on the servant’s east stairs, creeping down in the shadows with Corrin as we slunk down to the Royal kitchens. After slipping in, we made a beeline for the pantry. Corrin had overheard some plans to make berry pie, and I had wanted a taste. In less than a shake of the bell, Missus Pettimore, the Royal Housekeeper, had caught us red-handed, literally, shoveling pie into our mouths. The last thing we had seen as we bolted shrieking with laughter and pain was the sight of the gray-haired matron brandishing her stout oak broom.
“That was great!” Corrin had crowed. “Mission success, I say!”
“Yes!” I had gamely agreed as I nursed a bruise on my elbow.
“Gods,” Corrin had sworn as he caught sight of my face. “Are you alright?”
“I think she hit my funny bone,” I had admitted, trying to be too grown up to cry.
“Lemme see,” Corrin said. “Perhaps I can put some ice on it.”
“You can’t go back down!”
We had argued, but we finally settled on easing our aches and pains in the fountain. It was there that I realized that my mouth and cheeks were smeared liberally with berry juice. Corrin had helped to wipe it off with the edge of his worn tunic. Afterstripping down to our undergarments, we splashed about in the fountain, ignoring the shrieks of a maid who had emerged to do some gardening work. Corrin and I had simply laughed.
The memory faded, and reluctantly I allowed it to recede as the present once again took over. This Corrin, however, was surely different. Older. Wiser. It was common for Munni like Corrin to live in the wilds of Sumarene’s northernmost province, Velamere. He had been weathered by his time in the mountains, no doubt living off the land.
