Page 8 of The King's Bodyguard
I shrugged and offered a deprecating smile. “All is well now, at any rate,” I said. “Am I needed somewhere?”
“Bjorn has the trots,” Gareth said. “Do you mind filling his position a bit early?”
“Gods, Gareth!” exclaimed Hugh. “Has the concept of tact never entered your skull? If any maiden were to pass by, what would they think? You would have all of the mamas and misses fainting at the words that pass your lips. Hardly an ingredient for success if you wish to make good with the ladies.”
“I have no interest in the ladies,” Gareth said dismissively.
“Or the young lads.” Hugh rolled his eyes. “Learn well, Corrin. If you are to make any headway in court, it would behoove you to curb your tongue with care. Unlike our good friend Gareth here.”
“He might prefer the field to the court, Hugh,” Gareth grunted. “Not everyone enjoys the meaningless banter of gossipy gentlecats.”
Hugh’s tail fluffed with dramatic shock at Gareth’s words. I found it hard not to laugh at the knight’s antics. Hugh, a younger son of a lower house, had made a name for himself both on the field and the dance floor. Despite his reputation, however, I knew him to be a kind soul who respected the Munni as he did the Sunna.
The Duke of Baywaters, Lord Gareth, on the other hand, was a true enigma. When he was not overseeing the security of the Realm, whispers suggested that he commanded the Royal Blades, the King’s spy network. He was King Landis’s right-hand man who worked within the shadows. The quiet aristocrat alsoseemed to prefer his estate in the north-east, where it was said he hunted game, enjoyed fishing, and dallied with local Munni. All of it rumors, perhaps.
Still, while the two gentlecats could not have been more different, they shared the same desire—to support Landis in his endeavors to rebuild the realm. Unlike many of the other aristocrats who constantly toadied to the youthful king, Hugh and Gareth had been embraced as true confidantes. It was said that Gareth had hidden the young King away from his murderous siblings, and Hugh had gained a scar from a duel with the now-deceased rebel Prince Rhunian.
I was glad to hear that Landis had friends at his side through those dark years. When I first heard of it—from Landis—I respected the nobles for their unwavering support. I bowed and offered both a polite smile.
“I do not know which I prefer as yet,” I admitted, “but it would be remiss of me to delay any longer. My post awaits.”
“Of course.” Gareth bowed ever so slightly. “Outside the king’s chamber, you’ll find Bertram.”
Hugh gave a more extravagant bow that ended with a flourish. Proper courtesy now dispensed with, I made my way to my post. As Gareth had told me, the king’s chamber door was missing its second guard. Poor Bjorn. At the sight of me, Ser Bertram gave a stiff salute and a gruff nod before resuming his post.
I assumed my position. It was second nature for me to straighten my spine, widen my shoulders, set my feet apart just so, and stand at ease with one of my hands resting on the hilt of my sword. I trained my gaze on the opposite wall and allowed my mind to wander a little.
Rimefrost was so different from Kotterberg, the capital of Velamere. For one thing, Rimefrost was larger. The people were more relaxed. Sunna and Munni intermingled in some areas. Myhome in Velamere, however, was more insular. More divided. Whenever I rode into town there, I could feel tension.
Perhaps the changes in Rimefrost were all due to Landis. When he came to the throne, he continued his father’s legacy. Only yesterday, after he left a meeting, Landis admitted to me that he felt useless and ignorant. And yet, the warmth of his heart even now affected his servants and his people.
There were some who opposed Landis, of course. I would skewer them right now if I could. Lord Morne and Lord Berrymay were the worst offenders. They only saw Landis as a pawn.
I knew the feeling well. When I was a young kit, I used to stand with excitement waiting for my father to return to Kotterberg. Jan Stonewarden was infamous for his soldiering and skill in the hunt. I still recall the day I was finally allowed to stand by myself, waiting for the arrival of Father’s cavalcade. Dismounting, he had stared at me unseeing, tossed me the reins, and told me to tend to his horse.
That was when I realized that my father, like my mother, didn’t see much in me beyond a useful pawn in their eternal play for power. Whatever lay between my parents, I could not fathom, but the politicking drove me away. No matter how often I returned to Kotterberg, I did not feel like I was truly home.
There was no one waiting for me in Velamere. But in Rimefrost, here, there was someone I could not stop thinking about. Landis and his warm smiles, his delicate idealism and naiveté. I could not stop thinking about him. A first for me in a long time. Too long of a time.
As if on cue, my tail jerked. A shiver ran up my tail to its base, and then it continued to rush up my spine. Fingers ran along the long fur that arched downward and tugged gently once again. A flush ran up to my face, and I instantly came to attention. In more ways than one.
“Corrin,” a cheerful voice broke into my dour thoughts.
I stiffened.Who had dared to tug on my tail in such a manner?
Then I recognized the voice of my king. Landis. King Landis. My treacherous thoughts were thrown into turmoil as I realized that my liege had not only addressed me but had teasingly tugged on my tail. I fought hard to keep my composure, bowed, and offered an apology.
“At ease, Corrin,” Landis said.
I dared not look Ser Bertram’s way. Out of the corner of my eye, the older cat looked as though he had received quite a shock. No doubt he was not used to seeing his king behave in so forward a manner. Neither had I. I rather liked it.
Landis’s blue eyes scanned me thoughtfully.
“You seemed... far away, Corrin.”
“Apologies, Your Majesty,” I said once again. “I was... deep in thought.”
“Be careful,” Landis said lightly. A slow smirk spread across his face. “You never know if someone might sneak up on you and tug your tail again.”
