“Maybe?” Trystan interjected. “No. It is biological fact.”
“…But I didn’t want some random guy at a bar.” Galahad finished emphatically. “It might seem like a foreign concept to gryphons, but my kind attaches feelings to sex. At least I do.”
“You wanted emotions.” Trystan summarized in an unreadable voice. “Without them, no man is good enough.” He shifted his position against the tree and crossed his arms over his chest, like he was troubled by the answer. “In any case, you have remained in an untouched state, until now. In your culture, when I touch you, I will therefore be defiling you in some way.”
“Defiling?” Galahad made a face. “Really?”
“You prefer deflowering?”
“You’re not going to be ‘deflowering’ me, when we have sex.” Galahad tossed his boots onto higher ground. “Even if the term wasn’t antiquated and a little creepy, it wouldn’t fit me. Men don’t get ‘deflowered’ the first time they have sex.”
“The word is not gender specific. It is your language, knight. You really should know it better.”
“’Deflowered’ is about gender, though. Maybe not in the dictionary definition, but in what it really means.”
“The dictionary says what it really means. That’s why the book was written. To say what words really mean.”
“No, see, you’re missing the chauvinistic subtext… Oh forget it.” Trystan just wasn’t going to accept that he was wrong. God, it was like talking to a brick wall, covered in tattoos. “Look, I don’t live in a box. I lack some firsthand experience, but I understand sex. This isn’t as big a deal as you’re trying to make it. So, can we please analyze something else that interests you about my culture? Like anything else?”
“Nothing else about your people has captured my attention.” Trystan watched Galahad roll up his pant legs with an idle sort of indulgence. “As I understand it, there is a belief among the wingless that once a virgin is deflowered…”
“Jesus Christ.” Galahad stood up and shook his head. “Be glad I don’t carry a sword anymore, because I would be stabbing you, right now.”
Trystan kept going, not looking particularly threatened. “…that the virgin’s purity is blemished in some way. A lasting mark now invisibly mars their body.” He paused to consider that for a beat. “This is a stupid concept, obviously. Purity is not a physical trait. It is within a person and cannot be tainted by another’s actions.”
“Agreed. And yet we’re still discussing it.”
“But, as ridiculous as the idea is,” Trystan lifted a shoulder, “I am intrigued by this notion of… despoiling you. Of tarnishing something pristine, as I take you for the first time.”
Galahad glanced at him sharply. Okay, now they were getting somewhere. “Yeah?”
“The irrevocability and carnality of it is appealing. The possession.” He looked Galahad up and down, like he was imagining his fingerprints all over his skin. “This is perhaps why your backwards people invented the concept. It is stealing something valuable for their own and they always enjoy stealing valuable things.”
“You won’t be ‘stealing’ anything. I’m the one seducing you, remember?” He’d been working on it for days now. “To be honest, my current ‘untouched state’ is kind of your fault. Are you ready to fix it and say ‘yes’ to sleeping with me?”
“Not yet.”
Galahad lost interest in the conversation, again. “Right.” He unbuttoned his shirt and wrestled it off, which was no small feat with his hands still bound. “Seems like since your kind is so enlightened and uninhibited, you shouldn’t be dragging your feet about having sex with one simple guy.” He wadded up his shirt and tossed it over with his boots.
“You are far from simple.” Trystan’s hooded gaze lingered over his bare chest. “With you, I am still considering many options.”
The appreciative survey of his half-nude body did nothing to make Galahad feel better about being turned down. Again. “What kind of options are you considering? Like where we can do this or when it might happen…?”
Trystan cut him off. “Is that the key you found in that tomb?” His attention had been caught by the ruby encrusted key Galahad still had around his neck. The chain reached the middle of his torso, so it was usually hidden under his clothes.
“Yeah.”
“And you still wear that?” He didn’t sound pleased. “I thought you had agreed to abandon your mission, until we returned to Camelot?”
Galahad had no idea why he’d think that, but the misunderstanding worked to his advantage. He wasn’t going to lie to Trystan about anything. He lived a life of truth. He just wasn’t in a hurry to clarify things that didn’t need to be clarified.
“Well, this key was kinda hard to get, Trys.” He shrugged like maybe it was just a fun souvenir to hang onto and let Trystan draw his own conclusions.
Trystan still seemed suspicious. “You nearly died at that snake tomb, knight. Anything that comes from it is dangerous. Whatever that key opens can only lead to disaster.” He paused. “Do you know what it opens?”
“Not exactly.”
Trystan frowned at that non-answer. “You know… if you had an overriding compulsion to discuss your treasure hunt with me, I would not fault you. I know that you have no one else to talk to.” He cleared his throat. “I could listen to you briefly explain what that key might do. There is little else to focus on here. It would be no bother.”
That was nice, in a Trystan-y kind of way. “Thanks, but I’m fine.”
Trystan’s forehead creased into an even deeper frown. “You must have many ideas on this topic. You always have many ideas. There are none you wish to share?”
No, there were absolutely none Galahad wished to share. “I’ve got it all under control. I appreciate the offer, though.”
Trystan brooded for a beat. “Fine.”
“If you want to talk about your mission to kill that guy in St. Ives, I’ll listen to you, too.” Galahad said, unsure what that terse “fine” meant in Trystan-ese.
Trystan snorted. “I do not wish to talk, either.” He decided firmly. “No matter. When we get back to Camelot, I will assist you in selecting professionals to search for this treasure you want so badly, yes? In the meantime, you should get rid of that relic.” He gestured towards the key. “Whatever it does.”
“Yeah, I think I’ll get rid of it today.” Galahad said honestly and unbuckled his belt, making a production of tugging it free.
Trystan blinked, his attention drifting… downward.
Galahad smirked, thrilled on multiple levels with how easy it was to distract Trystan. “I don’t want to pressure you, but maybe you could really focus on the pros and cons of having sex with me.” He suggested conversationally. “That might help you make up your mind faster. Like, for instance, you could start with even naming a con to the idea, because I can’t think of any.”
Galahad wasn’t surprised by Trystan’s hesitance to sleep with him, of course. Trystan could do better. Anyone in Lyonesse would be happy to tell him so. But that was just too bad, because Galahad wanted this man and no other.
And, judging by the spellbound look on Trystan’s face, Galahad was well on his way to getting him.
“You listening, Trys?” He prompted, when Trystan just stood there watching him undress. The weight of his stare was like being physically touched.
“What?” The word was vague.
“Are you listening?”
He clearly wasn’t. Galahad’s pants sat low on his hips and Trystan’s full attention fixed on the strip of skin just above the waistband. His jaw was tight, and his eyes were hot, and it was awesome.
“Trys?”
Trystan shook his head, like he was trying to clear it. “What are you doing, knight?” He asked, his voice thicker than usual.
“I’m taking my clothes off.”
“I fucking see that.” Trystan dragged his eyes back up to his face. “Why? Whatever you are plotting, it will not wor
k.”
“You sure about that? I’m pretty convincing.”
Galahad had always been good at distractions, dedicated to his goals, and very, very patient. It was how he’d won most of his battles against this man. Trystan might be a military genius, but Galahad was way more unpredictable and he could wear down an opponent like water on rock.
“At the moment, though, I’m not ‘plotting’ anything nefarious. I’m just going in the river.” He added the belt to his pile of discarded clothing, like nothing unusual was happening. “Do gryphons swim?”
“Generally, no.”
“Too bad. You stay here and keep considering, then. I’ll be right back.”
Trystan’s brows came together. “Last time you said those words to me, you were nearly killed with a chain-mace.”
“I’m just going upstream. I’ll be fine.”
That assurance didn’t reassure Trystan. “I can think of six ways for you to die merely by walking a foot in any direction. Knowing you, there are a dozen more possibilities that no one could even predict. You could be sucked into a magic lamp or eaten by a tiger, at any moment.”
“I thought you liked tigers?”
“I respect tigers. There is a difference.”
“I don’t even think there are tigers in Lyonesse.”
“I do not put it past you to find them, anyway. This entire idea is…”
Galahad fixed him with a flat look, cutting off the complaint, before this debate went any farther. “I’m going to take a bath, because I’m tired of being covered in dust and smelling like a horse.” He said, breaking things down very plainly. “It’s possible I’ll be naked when I do this. I often am when I bathe.”
Trystan’s lips flattened, like he suddenly saw the problem.
“If I’m naked around you right now, I feel like we’re going to have sex.” Galahad continued, spelling it all out. “Am I wrong?”
Silence.
Galahad nodded in triumph. Damn, he was good. “Exactly. You just told me you weren’t ready to sleep together and I am respecting your decision. Ergo: You should wait here, while I go towards that waterfall alone.” He started down the shoreline. “Give me twenty minutes, okay? And don’t leave without me.” He wasn’t sure why he added that last part, but it was suddenly there on his tongue and in his mind.
Trystan squinted at him. “Do you honestly regard that as a possibility? At all?”
Yeah. He did.
Galahad had always had a gift for knowing when a fight was winnable and when it wasn’t. It was why he’d never been defeated. Because he picked every battle, and saw every move, and knew the probable outcome before the first shot was fired.
With Trystan, though, he was going into the fight with no idea how it would end. There was a very real possibility that Trystan would vanish one day. Especially, if he learned more about Legion. But still Galahad found himself getting deeper and deeper with the guy. It was a huge risk. One that he’d never taken before and one that he wasn’t sure would pay off.
“Well, I doubt you’ll leave until you ‘deflower’ me.” He replied, so he wouldn’t have to give a real answer. He’d already shared more then he would have liked.
Trystan’s eyes gleamed. “It is good that my plots to assassinate you during the War always failed. The world would be dimmer without you in it, knight.”
Galahad smiled at that very Trystan-y compliment.
“Do not run off, because I don’t want to waste time chasing you.” Trystan ordered. “And do not get directly beneath the waterfall and drown. And do not talk to anyone, as they are most likely villains. Just do nothing dangerous or stupid. I will sit right here and keep watch for possible murderers.”
“I feel safer already.”
Galahad continued on his rocky path towards The Vale of No Return. He eventually found a spot where the water was calm and he dove into it. Instantly, he felt better. He’d told Trystan what he planned to do and that’s just what he’d done. He’d absolutely, unequivocally taken a bath. No doubt about it. Why he felt cleaner already. Galahad surfaced wiping the water from his face.
Now that his bath was over, if he happened to find a magical doorway just sitting around… Well, anyone could see that wouldn’t be breaking his word. Even Trystan. Humming an unknown tune that had been playing in his head, Galahad climbed up onto the rocks. They grew bigger as he reached the base of the waterfall.
On the map, there was a lopsided picture and the words “sapphire door” at this spot. He wasn’t sure what that meant exactly. Whoever had drawn the map wasn’t much of an artist, so the whole thing was difficult to decipher. But, he was currently in possession of a ruby key, so, odds were, it fit into the sapphire door. The falls were called the “Vale of No Return” and a “vale” was kind of a door, wasn’t it? …Or was that “veil?”
Shit. What was the difference between “vale” and “veil?”
Trystan would know. The man loved to obsess over the nuances of language.
Either way, Galahad was pretty sure he was in the right spot. His eyes traced along the stone wall in front of him, looking for clues as to his next step. Nothing seemed particularly sapphire-ish. All the rocks just looked gray and wet. The illustration on the map showed a lopsided blue archway, so he was kind of expecting to see something like that. Also, it should glow. In his imagination, magical doors always glowed.
Sadly, nothing was glowing.
Maybe this door was at the top of the waterfall? The map was two dimensional, after all. It couldn’t really show verticality. So maybe the doorway was above him somewhere. Galahad’s eyes traveled allll the way up the length of the cliff, not enthused about climbing up hundreds of feet on slippery rocks.
He was debating how to start the assent when whispers sounded in his mind. Words in the gryphons’ language that he didn’t understand. He knew they were telling him he was on the right track, though. They were trying to help him. Just then the sun caught the cascading water at the perfect angle… and the entire waterfall seemed to glow.
Galahad’s head tilted.
Hang on…
What if he was considering this all wrong? What if the door way wasn’t at the waterfall? What if the doorway was the waterfall? What if that damn, wobbly, lopsided doorway on the map was actually meant to be a drawing of the waterfall itself?
“Got it.” He told the voices, although possibly he was just crazy and they weren’t real.
Unfastening the chain from his neck, Galahad wrapped it around his palm, so he wouldn’t drop it. There was a big rock right next to the base of The Vale of No Return. Getting out there would be next to impossible. White water churned and raged. It would be like swimming through a washing machine.
Luckily, he’d won two medals at the All Kingdom Olympics in pole vaulting.
It took ten minutes for him to find a fallen bamboo trunk that was long enough, but then it was fairly easy. He just ran forward, slamming the pole down into a semi-sedate spot in the river, and levered himself out to the rock. His form wouldn’t have impressed any judges, but Galahad easily made it to the rock at the center of the waterfall. Heavy spray drenched his skin as he surveyed the falls up close. He didn’t exactly see a keyhole anywhere in the torrent, but magic didn’t really play by the traditional rules.
He inserted the key into The Vale of No Return and turned it sharply.
A click sounded, the key vanished, and a small window opened in the curtain of water. It actually glowed, which he approved of. A magical, golden light lit the edges of a perfectly square cubbyhole, about the size of a shoebox.
Inside was a chunk of painted rock.
It looked like someone had chiseled it off a wall. It was a little bigger than an index card, featuring pieces of various lines and a green X.
Was it part of another map? It looked like it, but why would the treasure map lead him to another map? He tilted the thin piece of stone sideways, trying to figure it out. The next stop he was supposed to make was at a mural
in a cave. Maybe this was a piece of that…?
A horse neighed.
Galahad’s head whipped around, thinking it must be one of the stallions he and Trystan were riding. But that didn’t make any sense, because they were way downstream. It would’ve been impossible to hear them over the cacophony from the waterfall. This horse was closer. Horses, since it sounded like many of them, now. Their hooves drew closer, almost like they were riding over the water.
So, yeah… That seemed wrong.
He was still trying to figure it out, when the golden outline of the cubbyhole seemed to enlarge. As he watched, it grew bigger and bigger, expanding from the size of a shoebox, to the dimensions of a barn door, and then to the entire scope of the falls. The whole waterfall glowed with magic and --honestly-- the effect didn’t seem so cool anymore.
The Vale of No Return was a doorway and there was something waiting on the other side, trying to get out.
“Knight!” Trystan bellowed from someplace to his left
That was more great news. Trystan was definitely going to blame Galahad for this. (Whatever this was.) Galahad could already envision the ranting. He needed to get the hell out of there before things got worse and Trystan never let him hear the end of it.
Galahad stuffed the painted rock into the zippered pocket of his pants, bracing for a disaster to strike. Even he was surprised, though, when he was caught in a stampede.
“Shit!” Galahad and Trystan shouted in unison, as fifty hippocamps came tearing out of the waterfall.
With heads like horses, tails like sea serpents, and huge wings that looked like iridescent fins, they were impossible to mistake for any other creature. Hippocamps were usually frolicking around oceans and lakes, not corralled in waterfalls. Someone must have magically trapped the whole herd there to guard the painted piece of stone.
Thrilled to be free, the hippocamps ran hell bent for leather down the river, knocking Galahad off the rock, just like the stone shard’s protector had probably intended. He was thrown into the river, miraculously missing any submerged rocks that would have cracked his skull like an egg. Christ. This was exactly the kind of thing that Trystan would hold over his head all night as evidence that he made lousy choices.
Best Knight Ever (A Kinda Fairytale Book 4) Page 17