Page 9 of The King's Bodyguard
“Or worse,” huffed Ser Bertrum, giving me a hard glare.
“Apologies,” I repeated.
A light flush rose on my cheeks as I contemplated the humiliation of what would happen were Landis to continue to handle my tail. From the laughter that erupted from Landis, I guessed that he would no doubt be tempted to tease me once again.
The young King offered another smile that silenced Ser Bertram. With an insouciant wave of his hand, Landis disappeared into his room. Ser Bertram mumbled for five minutes straight after that, but I paid him no heed.
I was suddenly distracted by the vision of the King’s half-open tunic. He had no doubt been unbuttoning the top collaras he approached his room. It wasn’t much, but the hint of lean muscle and a perfectly kissable collarbone...
Gods, Corrin, I mentally scolded myself.Next thing, you’ll be wishing he’d tug you on the tail. You really need a lay.
By Landis, perhaps?A sneaky voice whispered in my mind.
Oh. Gods. Meryn of the Night. Help me.
Chapter 5
Landis
While everyone commiserated over the end of the summer at Lady Hartford’s annual Autumnal Ball, I mourned the loss of feeling in my toes after five dances.
Glancing around the great hall, which was lit by a thousand candles perched upon silver gilt chandeliers, I was glad to see that another dance had started without me. Thank the gods. After the way my last partner—a rather aggressive young lord—had dragged me around the dance floor, I felt crippled. Hobbling over to a chair, I sat down and imagined someone massaging my abused feet. For some reason, that got me thinking about Corrin. Which was ridiculous.
“Your Majesty.” Hugh said. After depositing a young, bright-cheeked miss with her mother, my favored knight stood at my side and watched the court mill about.
“Landis.”
“King Landis.”
I sighed. Of course, because it was a formal event, Hugh was being ridiculous. Gareth sauntered over, followed by a less common face—High Mage Alan Carwick. Ordinarily, Gareth would find a seat with the older catkin by the hearth, and Alan nowhere to be seen. Today, Gareth was sweeping the hall with alarming regularity and had picked up my High Mage in the process.
“Is everything alright?” I asked.
“All is well,” Gareth said. “I’m about due for a rest by the hearth and a good pipe, I shouldn’t wonder. I hoped to wish you a good evening, Your Majesty.”
I pouted a little at the formality. This really did make me feel awkward. I turned to the bespectacled, white-haired young tom at Gareth’s side.
“Alan, right?”
“Indeed,” the mage bowed. “Your High Mage, Alan Carwick, at your service. I know I have been absent a good bit lately—“
“As he always is. A practical hermit. We should send him back to the White Tower and tell them our mage is broken,” joked Hugh.
The smile on Alan’s face stiffened, but I caught a glimpse of fear in his eyes.
“We will do no such thing… right, Gareth?” I asked.
“I have been told that Alan is the best the White Tower can offer,” Gareth replied unhelpfully. “The best of the best. At least for now.”
Gods, these toms.I shot Alan a reassuring smile. Certainly, the young mage was a bit of a hermit and preferred to spend his time in his rooms, but every time I had a headache, he was always the first to be there with Medic Aileen. Aileen said it was because he was experimenting on me. Whatever that meant. I didn’t really want to ask. Whatever Alan gave me, though, worked wonders. I wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
“So… you have been busy, Alan?” I wondered what Alan did when he was not making potions for me.
“Indeed.” Alan glared at Hugh who subsided a little. “I have been making some progress on an elixir of fertility—“
Hugh choked on his mouthful of wine.
“Something for Hugh?” I asked brightly.
