Or slept with Trystan.
Yeah, that was a big one. Galahad was not looking forward to dying a virgin.
He’d had chances for sex before, with both men and women, and he’d always had to say “no.” Galahad couldn’t sleep with the women, because it would have been totally unfair and untrue. With men, it was less cut and dry. Occasionally, some good-looking guy would offer a night together and Galahad would be tempted. In the end, though, he always had to refuse their advances, because it just felt wrong when they touched him. It felt… false.
Gwen had always been talking about finding the “right man” and, somewhere along the line, Galahad internalized her logic. Living a life of truth wasn’t just about sleeping with men. It was about sleeping with the right man.
And Trystan was the right man.
The longer Galahad was with him, the truer their connection felt. Trystan was stubborn, and unfriendly, and mostly communicated through grunts, but Galahad had never wanted anyone more. If he somehow survived this, he was going to suggest they have sex. No doubt about it.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t going to survive this.
“They’re going to kill me.” Galahad told Trystan seriously. “Let them.”
Trystan shot him a scowl, unhappy even by Trystan standards.
“I mean it.” Galahad pressed, seeing the other man wasn’t eager to agree. “There’s no sense in both of us dying. Just let them have me.” Everything inside of him told him to protect Trystan. The instinct was strong, and swift, and inexplicably true. “You live and take care of Gwen and Avi. They’re all that’s important.”
Trystan squinted down at him for a moment. “This isn’t an act, is it?” It wasn’t a question, so much as an exasperated realization. “You’re really just like this, aren’t you?”
Galahad frowned. “Are you feeling okay?”
“Gryphons generally ‘feel’ nothing, as I have explained.” Trystan shook his head in aggravation, pitching his voice low. “Look. You are supposed to be a great warrior. If I untie you and get you a weapon, how many of the gryphons would you be able to kill?”
Galahad was still bound with that enchanted rope, so technically he was a prisoner of Trystan and the gryphon. No one had even tried to tie Trystan, of course. They were too intimidated by all the Trystan-ness. It was a little bit annoying that no one ever seemed intimidated by him, but Galahad was rising above it.
“I’m not killing anyone. Ever. I told you, I don’t do that, anymore.”
Trystan shot him a glare. “You need to kill at least six.” He declared in a dark tone.
“No.”
“Five, then. Pick some smallish ones. I will kill the others.”
“No.” Galahad repeated. “I’m living a peaceful, truthful, useful life, now. I no longer fight. Besides, there’s too few gryphons left, as it is. Better they survive then me.”
Trystan’s jaw ticked. “A shame you did not take that stance at Legion.”
“Well, I’m taking it now.”
“Very laudable. Perhaps your people will give you another medal. Posthumously.”
“They probably will. They love to hand out awards for death.” Galahad had won the Camelot Medal of Honor six times. He’d destroyed all those gleaming citations long before he was banished, unable to stand the sight of them. “When I’m gone, I’m sure I’ll get some ugly statues, too. Calling me a martyr and a hero. Just like the rest of the monsters.”
Trystan let out a long breath, like he was struggling to keep from bellowing. “This is the Welkyn Clan.” He explained in an overly calm voice. “They are among the few gryphons who still live in these mountains, because they are willing to endure unimaginable hardships. They will be merciless.”
Galahad nodded. “Just… Don’t let me hurt anyone, okay? No matter what.”
Trystan glanced down at him, skepticism all over his face. “If you believe you’re the threat here, you’re misunderstanding the situation.”
“I’m always the threat, everywhere I go. And this town is bringing back memories for me, and I’m not exactly right in the head, and I don’t want to hurt anyone. Especially not gryphons. So don’t let me, alright? If something happens, you stop me.”
Trystan stared at him.
Galahad stared back.
“Fine.” Trystan looked back at the other gryphons, who were forming a loose circle around them. “Fuck it. I’ll just kill them all myself.”
He no doubt could. The man could wage war on an army and come out the victor in battle after battle. He’d proven that in the Looking Glass Campaigns. On their separate sides of the War, Trystan and Galahad had kept their armies in play and each other in check for years. They were the only ones who’d been able to rival each other’s tactics. If they worked together, imagine what they could accomplish.
Such a shame Galahad was going to die before he found out.
“Don’t fight your own people.” Galahad said again. “Their blood will be harder for you to wash away. Trust me. If we can’t reason with them, just let them kill me.”
Galahad didn’t have much success with convincing people not to murder him, but it was always worth a try.
“I can’t let them kill you.” Trystan sounded disgusted, but resolute. “I’d like to. Believe me. But, it’s my duty to care for you, no matter how irritating you are. Stand there silently and do not interfere.”
Galahad sighed. The man wasn’t going to see reason, so Galahad would just have to save Trystan before Galahad was executed. That was completely doable. Galahad was nothing if not optimistic, even in the face of certain doom.
The gryphons gathered around them shouted questions and insults. Galahad’s grasp of their dialect was minimal, but he knew most of the curse words. They’d been bellowed at him for years. Hatred came through loud and clear in any language.
Trystan’s jaw clenched, his eyes flicking from one angry face to another. Galahad figured they had about thirty seconds before someone got dead. Luckily, before the mental countdown to Trystan’s explosion reached zero, a woman appeared. The shouting stopped and the crowd parted as she approached, leaving little doubt that she was Ayren Welkyn, the leader of the group.
“Trystan Airbourne.” Ayren stood in the middle of the group, wearing the gryphon’s traditional garb and a wary expression. “I have heard many tales of your exploits, since we last met.”
“Only the worst ones are true.”
Galahad nearly snorted. It truly was a pity the man had so little confidence.
“Why are you trespassing on our territory, Trystan?” Ayren spoke the common tongue, probably so she could more effectively threaten Galahad.
“This is not Welkyn land.” Trystan argued. “The Sparrowhawk Pass is open to all.”
“The wingless destroyed the water source in Welkyn territory, so the Welkyn have moved to this territory. It was either that or fruitlessly wander the mountains, searching for the lost clans on Mount Feather to take us in. Which would you have chosen?”
Trystan didn’t reply.
“What’s Mount Feather?” Galahad asked him.
“The mythic home of the old clans.” Ayren told him, overhearing the question. “The gryphons who have avoided the wingless and stayed free of your taint.” She arched a brow at Trystan. “You, on the other hand, live with the wingless now, yes? Claiming kinship to the new king, who’s taken the Skycast name.”
“The name belongs to Midas.” Trystan stepped in front of Galahad and braced his feet apart, his arms crossed over his chest.
Galahad felt his mouth curve. Trystan was protecting him, again. That was so cute.
He stared at Trystan’s broad back, his gaze tracing over the scarred wings and his heart melted. Jesus, this went far beyond just wanting to sleep with the guy. This was the feeling he’d been waiting for all his life. He couldn’t explain it and didn’t even want to. What he felt was all-consuming, and sudden, and beyond any question.
It was simply true.
&nb
sp; “Midas has taken nothing.” Trystan continued. “Corrah Skycast claimed him as a son. Her clan is his clan. The name is his name, by right.”
Ayren considered that. “There are rumors that our kind is now welcomed in Camelot.” She finally said. “That this new king favors the gryphons. That he’s giving us sanctuary.”
“Corrah was his mother.” Trystan reiterated, as if that explained everything. “Do you doubt that she raised him well?”
Ayren nodded, accepting that. “Corrah was a great queen.” She agreed. “A great warrior. I am pleased that her clan survives with her son, even if he is wingless. We have no quarrel with Midas Skycast.”
“Then you have no quarrel with me.”
“Don’t I?” She asked softly. Her eyes flicked to Galahad, who was partially blocked behind Trystan’s massive wings. “My scouts have been tracking this knight.” She made the word “knight” sound like “worm.” “I was satisfied he would die in the desert without my help and was content to watch his suffering. But you are now protecting him.” She seemed confused by that. She could join the club.
“I am protecting him.”
Ayren digested that vow for a long beat. “Why are you here, Trystan?”
“I am going to St. Ives to kill Marcus Sunchase.”
The other gryphon murmured amongst themselves.
Ayren’s head tilted. “You are still on your quest to kill Yellow Boots?”
Trystan shrugged. “Of course. Many are still alive.”
“I would think that growing up with Fisher would have taught you something of the price of obsession. He was an uncle of mine, you recall. This is one reason I keep you alive, now. You once brought news of how Fisher said the death prayer, before the end came, and thus found eternal peace. This meant much to the Welkyn Clan.”
“Fisher will always have my honor and esteem.” Trystan said very formally.
“That old man drove himself crazy chasing gemstones and the nonsense in his head. Others warned him to stop, but he could not. And look what it wrought him at the zoo. Do you wish to follow this example, Trystan?”
Zoo?
Galahad squinted at the back of Trystan’s head. “Why were you visiting a zoo, with an old man?” He whispered. “I thought you said you only liked tigers.”
“I said I respect tigers, not that I liked them.” Trystan corrected, not looking his way. His attention stayed on Ayren. “Perhaps Fisher just valued seeing things through. As do I.” He told her in a louder tone.
“Regardless,” Ayren waved a hand, “it doesn’t explain why you help a King’s Man, now. They are our enemies. …Or have you forgotten your dead clan, last of the Airbourne?”
Galahad winced, knowing that remark wasn’t going to go down well. He instinctively grabbed the back of Trystan’s shirt. Keeping him in place, when the other man would have started forward, ready to fight.
Was he the only one who noticed this particular gryphon wasn’t emotionless?
Like at all.
“Don’t.” Galahad urged quietly. “Find a way besides death. You’ll thank me for it later.”
He heard Trystan muttering curses under his breath, but there wasn’t a multiple homicide. That was a positive sign. “Midas’ wife claims this knight as her brother.” He ground out, angry eyes on Ayren. “He is part of the Skycast Clan.”
“So?”
“So, the Skycast Clan is my clan, now.”
Several gryphons in the crowd exchanged looks, as if realizing that this wasn’t going to be an easy day at the office.
“Mine.” Trystan reiterated harshly. “Midas and Guinevere and their child are in my care. I give them what they want. So, if they want this knight alive, then I will fight to keep him alive for-fucking-ever.” Each syllable was a snarl.
See? That didn’t sound like someone born without emotions.
“You side with the wingless, then?” Ayren challenged. “Over your own people?”
“For my clan, I would do anything.” Trystan arched a brow. “You saw what I did when I lost my last two clans, Ayren. I leveled a mountain. Literally. It was over there.” He pointed into the distance. “So what do you think I’ll do to guard my new clan? Where I have a baby niece who runs into my arms, and a sister who nags me about finding a mate, and a brother who saved my life. What do you think I would do to keep that light?”
Everything.
There wasn’t a doubt in Galahad’s mind that this man would give everything for his family. To keep them happy and protected, he would bleed his last drop of blood. Jesus, Avalon and Gwen were the safest two people on the planet. It was such a relief.
Ayren began talking to Trystan in the gryphons’ language, still arguing that Galahad should be killed. Galahad was only picking up every fourth word, but some of the reasoning actually seemed pretty compelling.
Trystan was unmoved. “I will slaughter you all and die myself, before I surrender the knight.” The words were flat. “Let us pass or arm yourselves and try to stop me. The choice is yours.”
Ayren was not pleased with the options. “You can go.” She swept a hand towards the edge of the town and the barren desert beyond. “We have no quarrel with the Airbourne or Skycast clans. But the knight will stay and die for the crimes of his people.”
Trystan’s eyes narrowed.
“That’s fair.” Galahad interjected before Trystan’s diplomatic skills got the other man killed. Galahad would figure out some way to survive. Probably. More importantly, though, the fierce pull he felt towards Trystan was screaming that Galahad had to protect him, no matter the cost. “Trystan’s leaving.” He bumped him with his shoulder, trying to get him moving. “Bye, Trystan.”
It was a miracle Trystan’s glare didn’t eviscerate him right there.
Galahad kept his eyes on Ayren. “I was burned at the stake a couple days ago. You could try that to kill me, if you’re looking for inspiration.” Fire would be the best chance he had, even though the smoke had kinda sucked. Optimism promised there was a way.
Trystan let out a hiss of frustration. “Knight, I will gut you myself if you don’t…”
Ayren cut him off. “We don’t burn our prisoners to death. Not even your kind. You will be given a fair chance, against a worthy opponent. If you survive it, we will let you live. Vallon!” She turned to the crowd. “You will have the honor of killing this wingless being.”
The other gryphons cheered as a man with black wings stepped forward. Covered in scars and ceremonial paint, he was bigger than Trystan. …And Trystan was massive.
Galahad blinked.
“P’don.” Trystan muttered.
Vallon tilted his head to crack his neck, his gigantic shoulders rippling. He fitted a dented knight’s helmet over his skull, which he could only have acquired on the battlefield. “I am ready.” He declared in a heavily-accented voice and pulled a gigantic pole from a holster on his back. An iron ball hung from it, covered in spikes.
Vallon fought with a Camelot chain-mace?
Galahad’s head tilted.
That wasn’t a traditional gryphon weapon. The heavy flail was flashy as hell when you spun it around and it did crushing damage if you hit your enemy with it. Vallon must have taken it is a souvenir after killing a mounted knight and now used it to show off in these ritualized fights. He seemed like a guy who enjoyed the trophies of war.
Trystan squinted down at Galahad, trying to interpret his small smirk. “The expression on your face gives me chills. Whatever you are plotting… stop.”
Galahad shot him an arch look. “I have an idea.”
“Lyrssa help us all…”
Galahad didn’t get a chance to respond to that negativity. A dozen hands grabbed at him, dragging him away from Trystan and towards a ring of red painted stones. “Don’t worry! I’ll be right back!”
“Gryphons do not worry. We cause worry.”
“No, don’t ‘cause’ anything.” Galahad insisted. “I can handle this with no one dying.”
; Trystan looked like he was holding onto sanity by his fingernails. “I have never before met anyone who is so confident, with so little reason.”
Yeah, that was a fair point. Galahad was unceremoniously dumped in the middle of the ring, while everyone else gathered around. He was pretty self-assured, but he hadn’t been having the best run of luck lately. This would be a turning point, though.
He was sure of it.
“Bring the knight a sword.” Ayren ordered, standing back so there would be room for Vallon to kill Galahad without blood splashing onto her white clothing.
“I don’t need a weapon.” Galahad got to his feet and dusted himself off, as best he could. Okay. Bad luck aside, he could do this. He just had to stay calm and positive. “I don’t use swords anymore.” He tilted his head. “Hey, do you ever wonder why people have invented so many ways to kill each other? Wouldn’t just one kind of weapon have been enough?”
Trystan cursed in three languages. It was impossible to tell if he was more frustrated with Galahad or the other gryphons.
Probably Galahad.
“Why don’t you stay tied, while you’re at it?” He snapped, as if reaching the end of his never-very-long patience. “I am always eager to teach stupid beings something worthwhile. You think you are the ‘best knight ever?’ Fine.”
Galahad blinked. Huh? “I never said I was the…”
Trystan cut him off, pointing at Vallon. “Fight this jackass with no sword and ropes on your hands, while you ask questions without answers. See if you can’t then figure out why listening to me might be a good idea, in the future.”
Yeah, he was definitely most frustrated at Galahad.
“You don’t want a sword?” Ayren repeated like the words made no sense. She looked over at Trystan. “Why doesn’t he want a sword?”
“The man is a raving lunatic.” Trystan gave an elaborate shrug. “He enjoys losing to puppets and pigs.”
“I live a life of peace now.” Galahad explained, because his non-violent stance made a lot of sense when Trystan wasn’t confusing it. “I’ve given up killing.”
“I haven’t.” Trystan intoned. “Have your fight without a sword, knight. I will stand here and watch you get the shit kicked out of you, hoping you gain some wisdom from it.” He looked over at Vallon. “But, if the knight dies… you die.” It was a flat statement of fact.
Best Knight Ever (A Kinda Fairytale Book 4) Page 10