Knightly Bonds 1: Their Majesties' Knight (2 page)
Arin blinked. “The White Lion?”
A murmur rose from the knights who were present. “I would love to cross swords with him,” Nalik of Yellow Hills said.
“You are no match for him,” Moira said curtly. “Now, Arin might be, but I would be surprised if even he manages to win. This one is good.”
“No one is invincible,” Arin said in mild voice. Moira had absolutely no social skills. There was no need to be that rude, though, poor Nalik really wasn’t a match for the famous knight. He appeared quite flushed now. Arin hurried to distract him. He wasn’t worried about his sister. But he had reason to be worried about knights who chose to tangle with his sister.
“That would also be the one you wanted to snatch by magic?”
“Yes.”
Arin shuddered. Boy, had that been an argument. Moira was excited and insisted on transporting the knight right then and there. She could do that, too. She kept insisting the knight was important for him. Arin didn’t think anyone would appreciate being yanked to another place by a meddling magician. Somehow, he persuaded his sister to leave it alone for now. Now, however, the White Lion appeared to have come to Hearthstone of his own volition. Arin’s interest was piqued. The White Lion was rumored to be undefeated. The knights on his court, who had met him, all agreed he was uncommonly skillful in fight. Arin, no slouch in that department himself, was curious how they would fare against each other.
Arin’s gaze slid to his sword, which one of the pages was just bringing. Moira’s fist hit his shoulder.
“Ow. What was that for?”
“You are not going to challenge him,” Moira warned.
“I’m not?”
“Absolutely not. You are trying to be nice.”
“Whyever not? I want to know how good he is,” Arin insisted.
His sister snorted. “Trust me, he is better than you.”
That grated. “We will see.” He reached for the sword.
“It’s not wise to use Axen to fight him. That sword is magical.”
The sword’s body was calling to him. Arin hesitated but stepped back and waved it away. Moira was right about this. The sword was made to be the equivalent to a mage staff. He may not be as good a mage as his sister, but he was powerful. And he wasn’t sure he could resist using magic once he was in the heat of battle. No. It was better not to try. And there were other ways to fight.
He whirled around. “Let’s go.”
* * * *
“Impressive place,” Lan commented, looking over the spacious hall filled with colorful rugs and banners. Even now, it was half-filled with people who chatted and drank wine from goblets pages meticulously filled. Garen had nodded at people that called out greetings to him when they entered, but he avoided stopping to talk. Lan was somewhat amused with his maneuvering. Now, he was standing next to the small table, with Garen blocking him from others’ view. His gaze slid to the slightly bigger, ornately-carved wooden chairs at the front of the room. As thrones went, he had seen more luxurious. Still, there was something in the understated elegance of the chairs that marked them as thrones.
The buzz of talk died away as a small group of people entered. He noticed the pair right away. He would have recognized them even if there weren’t slight bows and murmurs of “Majesties” as they approached.
The king.
The woman with him, black-haired and with eyes glinting like black diamonds, wore a heavy velvet gown and clinking bracelets. There was a small staff in her hands. So, this was the mage then. He opened his senses a little. The power poured off her with so much force, he quickly shut them down. This was a dangerous woman.
He inclined his head toward Garen.
“Who is the woman?”
“The king’s sister, Princess Moira.”
“Mage?” he asked.
“Mage.” There was a sour note in Garen’s voice as he said it. Lan threw him a sharp glance. That was unusual for his always easygoing friend. It looked like the princess and this particular knight weren’t on the best of terms. He wondered why.
He caught look of unmistakable longing in Garen’s eyes for a second. Grinned. So, that was why. Interesting. Lan filed the information for future use.
Not that he blamed his friend. Princess Moira was an attractive woman. Lan was neither blind nor dead.
He looked at the king.
A surge of electricity went through him as the king’s golden eyes found his. His blood heated, a wave of desire tightening his belly. Now that was more how he liked them.
Big. Unmistakably male.
Shit.
His cock started to rise. Lan shifted, doing his best to squelch his thoughts on that score. This wasn’t the time or place, and that definitely wasn’t an acceptable bedmate.
If he didn’t know better, he would have sworn that there was an answering heat in the king’s eyes. He swallowed, trying to hold on to his composure. Arin regarded him for a moment then purposefully headed toward them.
Lan schooled his face into a polite mask. He bowed, as Garen did, as the king approached them. The rest of the royal retinue fell behind as the king inspected their new guest.
“Lord Garen,” the king said, but his gaze rested on Lan. It slid over him, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.
“Majesty,” Garen said, “my friend, Lord Lan.” He paused for better effect. “The White Lion.”
Lan felt his cheeks heat. He hated that nickname. “Majesty.”
“There are many stories about the White Lion,” the king said.
Lan didn’t bat an eyelash. “I believe I have heard most of them, sire.”
Arin laughed. Suddenly he was very close, and his scent enveloped Lan, making him painfully aroused. The king’s hand gripped Lan’s shoulder.
“Well said. I would love to find out which ones are true, though. Perhaps...later?”
His tone and his closeness made innocent words sound inappropriate. Lan swallowed.
“As is your wish, Your Majesty.”
“Indeed.” Arin’s beard scraped Lan’s cheek as he briefly leaned toward Lan. “I’ll look forward to it.”
He stepped back, heading toward the eager crowd. Lan expelled a long breath. His gaze fell on Arin’s back. King or no king, that man had a fantastic ass.
Arin turned just in time to catch him ogling. His eyes flashed with promise.
Sun and stars. What had he gotten himself into?
Chapter 2
“Sir Garen.” Arin’s voice made Lan’s body instantly hot. “Escort my sister, will you? I wish to speak with...our guest.” His voice was caressing.
Damn it.
So I haven’t been imagining it.
Lan steeled himself. Lusting after men, though not totally unacceptable, was generally frowned upon. It was what had cost him his home. His brother had exiled him when he found out, and he kept wandering from then on. As far as he knew, no one knew about him. He was usually discreet. He was surprised by the effect Arin had on him. It was hard to rein in his interest. Lan wanted this man.
“Yes, my king.” Judging by the stony expression on Garen’s face, he wasn’t thrilled to find himself the princess’s escort. The haughty expression on Moira’s face mirrored his. Huh. So, he hadn’t imagined Garen’s reaction earlier. What’s more, the feeling seemed to be mutual.
“Yes, they are rather interested in each other. They could even realize it if they stopped hostilities for long enough,” Arin said dryly.
“You are not upset.”
Arin snorted. “My sister knows to take care of herself,” he answered, looking at the pair. “And barring his obsession with her, Garen knows that, too.” He smiled at Lan. “Walk with me, Lan.”
Lan obeyed, warmth flooding him when Arin’s shoulder rubbed his. His cock filled. Lan muttered something under his breath. It wasn’t the first time he was lusting after a man he couldn’t have. Lusting after a king was the height of stupidity.
“What was that?”
“Nothing, sir.”
Arin’s lips twitched. “I see. Are you always this quiet?”
Lan shifted uncomfortably. “Habit of mine, mostly.”
“I noticed. For the two days you were here, you mostly kept to yourself. I know that you participated in training sessions and that Garen made sure to keep you...entertained,” Arin said, glancing at his knight, “but still, you kept yourself apart. Why is that?”
Lan was taken aback. He didn’t know how to explain it. No one ever asked him this question. He didn’t have close friends. His lifestyle didn’t allow them. The people here, though, knew each other for a long time. He envied them. A lump settled in his throat.
No, there will be no home for Lan of the Lions.
“Have we managed to scare you already?”
“No, sire, I...I like it here.” He was surprised to find out this was the truth. It doesn’t have to mean anything, he reminded himself.
Arin’s lips twitched. “Give us some time,” he said. “Tell me something of yourself then.”
“I am sure Your Majesty already heard what was worth hearing.”
“I did. It was impressive.”
“People exaggerate.”
“Not about you, I would think,” Arin said slowly. “Garen respects you. I trust him.”
Lan’s gaze wandered over to where Moira and Garen stood next to each other, their expressions sour. There was an empty circle around them since no one was brave enough to approach them. The king followed his gaze.
“No need to worry about your friend. They will be on their best behavior in public.”
“That’s their best behavior?”
Arin laughed, the sound full and rich, zeroing straight to Lan’s groin. “Yes. Believe me, they could be much worse.”
He wouldn’t want to be around to witness that. “What happens now?” he asked, changing the subject.
“About what?” Arin’s finely sculpted eyebrows rose.
“If I decide to stay.”
He was treated to a sardonic look. “Thought you already did.”
Lan frowned. “It doesn’t work that way.”
Usually, if he wanted to join an established group of warriors, he needed to prove himself.
“It does with you. Mind you, newcomers are usually tested. But with everything we knew about you and the fact that you beat Garen—well, I think we could dispense with it in your case.”
Lan crossed his arms, stopping and forcing Arin to do the same. “What if I want to test you?”
Surprise showed on Arin’s face, but he quickly regained control. “That could be arranged then.” A smile stretched his lips. “How about right now?”
“What do you have in mind?”
Arin shrugged. “Nothing too dangerous. No weapons. Hand-to-hand combat.” He caught Lan’s gaze, then added, “With me.”
Lan returned his stare. “I accept then.”
Arin gave him a curt nod. “Fine. Come on then.”
* * * *
“You want to fight with him?” Garen sounded astounded at Lan’s words.
Stripping off his richly embroidered tunic, Lan glanced at him. “I mentioned it as a test. As I recall, you wanted to do the same when I joined your father’s forces.”
“That was something different,” Garen muttered. “But seriously, Lan, hand-to-hand combat? You are good. I’m not denying that—”
Wearing only thin, dark blue pants, Lan faced Garen. “What?”
His friend huffed. “You have not seen the king fight, Lan. He is good. Very few men have managed to beat him in that kind of a fight.”
“And you think I don’t know that?”
It was obvious from the way Arin moved, with the sinuous, lithe movement of a wild cat in the midst of a hunt, that he was well-versed in fight. It was even more noticeable in a man of his considerable bulk, but Lan was willing to swear there wasn’t an ounce of fat on that body, just muscles. His mind promptly conjured images he would rather not be having right now—he had always liked big men.
“Why the fight then?”
Lan shrugged. He was unwilling to explain his reasons to his friend. In truth, he was unsure of them himself.
“I’ll leave you then,” Garen said, moving towards the door. “Are we still having dinner tonight?”
“You are leaving?” Lan asked, confused. “Thought you were going to stay.”
“No. The king ordered everyone away.”
For some reason, that made Lan’s stomach tighten. He had not anticipated staying alone with Arin. But Garen was already leaving. Lan took a deep breath then entered the spacious room on the other side of the door. His brows rose in appreciation. This was a big room, with a ceiling shaped like a dome and slatted windows at the top. The floor was wooden, and an assortment of various weapons decorated the walls. Not just decorated, Lan thought as various scratches on walls and floors testified that at least some weapons were used.
“You like it?” asked a voice from behind him. “This is the main training room for my knights.”
Lan turned to face his opponent. His mouth went dry.
Like him, Arin was only wearing dark pants, but his were red. He was naked to the waist, and Lan found himself staring at the muscled chest and faint line of red hair trailing down Arin’s chest to dip into his loose pants. He swallowed. Arin stopped, his grin widening. He crossed his arms over his chest, his muscles bulging as he did so.
