Minstrel's Solstice (2 page)

Gryff turned his attention to Kerryll. He didn’t like these long moments of unconsciousness.

Taking care, Gryff unhooked and unlaced the weathered, fur-lined boots. He let them drop to the floor. He worked his way through the multiple layers to reveal the golden skin and discovered the dual inked bands surrounding both wrists. These were the mystic-enhanced signs of an official Bard Guild-trained minstrel. One could receive them only after completing training and triple seasons of internship and traveling with a master. Gryff traced the bands with a finger and spotted the symbol of their new contract, which matched the mark on his wrist. Other markings drawn up Kerryll’s powerful forearms spoke of additional magic and teachings.

Noting these marks in his memory, Gryff continued to undress Kerryll until he reached the final layer of woolen underclothes. His fingers drifted down his lean chest, the soft trail of hair, and across a hipbone. Below Kerryll’s nest of deep honey curls lay his natural gifts in form of a flaccid, but long, cock.

“Hmm, you’re a beauty, pretty songbird,” Gryff murmured.

“The bath is ready for him and the room is warming,” Jayme said.

“Excellent. Please have the healing tea prepared,” Gryff said as he scooped Kerryll up in his arms. He carried him into the bathing area. The tub was more of a small pool cut into the mountain. Descending the stone steps, he pushed through the spring water heightened with natural minerals and the essential oil. He settled with Kerryll on one of the deep seats covered with soft towels.

After some time, bleary golden-brown eyes opened with several blinks of thick lashes.

Gryff wiped water from his pale brow. He let more droplets fall within his hair. He stared down into Kerryll’s eyes. “Ssh. I’m warming your body. You took ill with ice sickness. You’re safe in the castle,” he said in a soft, reassuring voice.

When Kerryll tried to speak, Gryff shook his head and pressed a finger against his lips.

“Don’t try to speak. Rest in my arms and let the natural spring heal you.”

“Excuse me. The mystic sent a tea to assist with the healing.” Jayme entered the area with a small tray. She set it down within Gryff’s reach.

Gryff took the clay mug and held it to Kerryll’s lips. “Drink this. I promise no harm will come to you within my castle.”

Kerryll opened his mouth, grimaced at the taste, but swallowed the entire contents. He licked his lips to get the last drops.

Gryff placed the mug back on the tray. “Is the bed prepared with the warming stones and additional blankets?”

“It is.”

Slipping his arms around Kerryll, Gryff gazed into his eyes. “Trust me, please.”

Kerryll nodded, too exhausted to do more.

With ease, Gryff wrapped several warmed towels around him. He carried him to the bedroom chamber and placed him on the bed. He lay next to him. After he waved Jayme out of the room, he gave them both a brisk drying off, then tossed the towels aside. Covering them with blankets, he waved to turn off the mystic-enhanced lights.

Outside the windows, the blizzard continued to thunder and roar around the castle, covering the ancient stones in layers of ice and snow.

O
PENING
HIS
eyes, Kerryll felt warmth surrounding his body and a firm, long length pressed against him. A distinctive feeling of a thickened, interested cock nestled against his lower back. It was one of his favorite ways of waking, but he had no memory of taking a lover. He wasn’t sure whose bed he’d slept in. Stretching his limbs, he winced as the tightness and soreness told him he had been through something nasty.

“Hmm. Looks like our new songbird is awakening,” someone murmured in a deep tone near his ear. “I hope you don’t mind having a naked male curl around you.”

“What I prefer.” Kerryll wiggled until he was on his back. He turned and stared at the handsome face. The marble-pale skin, shiny ebony waves of hair falling over a high forehead, and intriguing indigo blue eyes surrounded with lush black lashes told him he was in the Northern Quadrant.

“Hmm. You don’t remember meeting me though we sleep within one another’s arms. I’m crushed,” the man said with a smile. “Not often I’m forgotten by those I meet.”

Kerryll tried to hide his face under the pillow and the man’s broad shoulder.

“It’s quite all right considering the circumstances of your arrival. You were deep within ice sickness and managed to work a bit of magic to create a Dark Solstice contract.” He held up an arm to reveal the sparkling band. “I’m Duke Cullan Gryffyn D’Antuono. You can call me Gryff since I had the pleasure of undressing and healing you.”

Lifting his gaze to meet the rich indigo one, Kerryll recognized the heat of interest. His body reacted to the spark between them. The desire swept across him. “Morning, Gryff. Thank you for taking me into your home… and bed?”

“You’re welcome for both, and I hope you spend another night here. It’s been a while since I curled around someone as stunning as you.” He stretched against Kerryll. “How are you feeling? Are there any lingering signs of the ice sickness? Can you move everything? Toes? Fingers?”

Kerryll wiggled everything as Gryff went through the checklist. “All is good. The true test would be picking up my violin.”

“You’ll do that with welcoming our Dark Solstice.”

“I’ll need some practice to make sure I can perform.”

There was a knock upon the double doors. Gryff muttered and pressed his face between Kerryll’s shoulder and pillow.

“What is it?” Kerryll asked in a soft tone.

“Daily life of a duke calls,” Gryff said as he rolled away from Kerryll and flipped back the covers. He rose and stretched.

Kerryll blatantly studied the Duke who had accepted his contract and saved his life. He enjoyed seeing his contracted band upon the pale skin. Lowering his gaze down Gryff’s lean, muscled frame, he admired his tight ass and the thickened cock curling away from his body, ending with a deep purplish head. He observed while Gryff stroked a hand down his length, wrapped his fingers around the thickness, and gave a few tugs.

“I could assist with that.” Kerryll rolled on his belly, letting his ass appear from the sheets, and propped his head on a raised hand.

Gryff turned his head and raised an eyebrow as his hand continued. “You barely know me.”

“You took care of me. A Duke. You didn’t pass me off to a servant or send me to a room alone to fend for myself.”

“I don’t want a hand job because of gratitude.”

“Oh, I’m feeling far more than gratitude right now. You’re a handsome man. Why is no one in your bed?”

“I’m a Duke, not a regular man.”

“Let me take a guess.” Curling around, Kerryll sat up, not bothering to hide his growing erection, a reaction to studying Gryff. “Others see only the title and power, not the man. They don’t see the vulnerable heart behind the name. Are you Cullan outside this room?”

“Most address me as Duke D’Antuono. How would you know?”

“I’m a traveling minstrel. Over the seasons, one learns how to read others and see beyond what’s in front of your eyes in order to survive. To others, I’m a minstrel, one who can make music, and nothing more. To most, I’m a stranger and not to be trusted.”

“We’re in similar positions. I never approved of what happened in the central capital and Southern Quadrant after the plague reshaped everything. I try to follow the old ways within my borders, but my reach only goes so far. There are some villages not following my laws.”

“With our contract comes the protection of my silence and support. Do you know what the band means?”

Gryff twisted his wrist and stared at the band. “My father explained some things, but knew I wouldn’t know the feeling until I accepted one.”

“My life and music are yours.”

“What?”

“I’m yours.”

“What do you mean you’re mine? Like a servant of some type?”

“In a fashion, aye, but it’s a willing one since I initiate the magic. The contract pulls me closer to whoever accepts. It’s one of the more interesting benefits of the contract and something we don’t often tell most of those we connect to. Since the plague, I haven’t found the chance to create a decent contract of such a length. I believed the opportunity wouldn’t be available with so much distrust of travelers.”

“Are you planning on stopping your travels?”

“I’ve been considering the option. Villages no longer want to accept strangers or bother to pay for a contract when they’re struggling to feed their own.”

“Where would you go?”

“I’m not sure of what my future path will be after the Dark Solstice.” Kerryll rubbed a hand against his chest. “I don’t want to give up the ability to create music or a new contract. The rush is….”

“Invigorating.”

“Passionate.”

“I’m intrigued.”

Kerryll tilted his head.

The knock on the door interrupted again.

Gryff groaned. “I hear the summons. I’ll be there,” he called out and lifted a robe draped over a chair. He moved to the elegant altar set in a depression with a stained window complete with the image of the Dark Goddess.

Kerryll observed Gryff light the candles, incense, and kneel. He kept quiet, knowing this proud Duke offered his own personal prayers.

Holding his hands out, Gryff tilted his head down and called his prayers to the Dark Goddess:

O! Mighty goddess, in silvery ice,

watching over us as we sleep,

covering the earth with a layer of shining white,

we thank you for visiting us.

Because of you, we seek warmth

in the comfort of our homes and hearths.

Rising, letting the candles burn, as they would throughout the entire day for the beginning of the Dark Solstice, Gryff turned to meet Kerryll’s gaze. “We’ll pick this up after the evening’s festivities.”

“Of course. I look forward to continuing our discussion,” Kerryll said. “Where is my chamber?”

“It’s next door to mine. Though you’re welcome to stay here.”

“My things….”

The Duke held up a hand and pointed behind him. “Please, help yourself to the bathing chamber. I had your clothes placed in the wardrobe over there along with a selection of warmer items when I noticed you packed light. Your instruments and music sheets are kept within the large cedar trunk.”

“My things are in this chamber?”

“We weren’t sure how long your recovery would take, so I had your things placed here. They can be moved next door.”

“No. No. This is fine for now.”

“I need to dress and prepare. I will have Jayme show you around the castle.”

“Jayme?”

“The main housekeeper, who keeps the castle running smooth with her husband, Patryk, my seneschal.”

“Ahh. Thank you.”

“Until then,” Gryff said as he stepped closer. He drew his fingers down Kerryll’s face, hummed in seeming approval of something, and walked away.

G
IVING
THE
Duke time to prepare alone, Kerryll lazed under the thick quilts, relishing the warmth and comfort. If there were ever the chance, he would definitely consider the option to settle down here. No other community had welcomed him with such tender care. He had never felt safer before he crossed the bridge with Aychear. He rolled out of the bed, saw a thick robe left behind, and pulled it on. He found his way to the elegant personal chamber to handle what he needed. Finishing, he washed and dried his face and upper body. Feeling a little more appropriate, Kerryll walked to the altar and knelt in front of the image of the Dark Goddess. He offered his own prayer:

I arise today to ask grace of our Goddess:

Light of sun,

Radiance of moon,

Splendor of fire,

Swiftness of wind,

Stability of earth,

Firmness of rock.

Bring life to my melody,

As thou will it, so mote it be.

Blessed be.

After another bow and moment of silence, Kerryll rocked back to his bare feet. Stepping away without turning his back toward the Dark Goddess, he crossed the room. While running his hands through his hair to get some order to it, he found the large wardrobe Gryff had pointed out. He yanked open the ornate carved doors and saw his personal items along with the other options. The clothes given by Gryff were made from finer and richer fabrics than he could afford. Choosing several items, he dressed, shoved his stocking-covered feet in a pair of boots, and buttoned the brocade vest over the linen shirt. He checked himself in a reflective glass.

To his relief and delight, he found his precious instruments and music sheets tucked away and cradled carefully. He breathed in the cedar scent and smiled at how Gryff had chosen such a protective, nurturing chest to shelter his beloved treasures.

Reaching inside, he located the pouch containing the small flute. He unwrapped and polished the delicate instrument, then brought it to his mouth and blew a few notes. The soft, trilling melody filled the chamber with its clear voice. Placing the flute in a pocket, he lifted the covered violin case. This violin was ancient. It had passed through several minstrels and been handed to him upon receiving his bands. Laying the case on the bed, he drifted his fingertips along the polished redwood top and the elegant curve of the neck, then checked the bow, noting it needed cleaning. He placed everything back inside the case, covered it with the protective silken cloth, and locked it. He lifted the case and left the bedchamber.

Following a few paths, making a few wrong turns, he eventually found his way to a large central area. Part of him recognized it from his initial entry. Large fires filled the two hearths. Outside the nearest windows, he noticed the blizzard continued. He watched servants move all over, carrying solstice decorations or everyday items from one place to another. When he pulled in a deep breath, the rich scents of cloves, apples, oranges, and evergreen filled him. Candles were placed along with the fires and mystic-enhanced lights. Evergreens, holly, ivy, and mistletoe hung from every possible area. A great ash log waited next to each large hearth, covered in greenery and ready to light with the previous year’s log.