“‘Only light protects the innocent.’” Galahad quoted without hesitation. “‘Only light can save us. Choose Light.’” The words would stay with him forever.
Trystan blinked, seemingly struck speechless.
“She said she saw my path as clearly as her own.” Galahad stared off at nothing, reliving it all in his head. “She said I should fight for something better.”
Trystan studied Galahad, like he was trying to see into his memories. “Why did she tell all this to you?” He asked, sounding mesmerized.
“I don’t know.”
“There must’ve been a reason for her to say such a thing, at such a moment.”
Galahad was uncomfortable with this whole tangent. “She didn’t give me a reason.”
Trystan wasn’t giving up. “Knight, her words were a seywa. A…uh…” he hunted for the right translation, “a hopeful teaching. A blessing for you. Why would Lyrssa give seywa to an enemy soldier? What did she see in you that day?”
Galahad took a deep breath and gave in. “Darkness.”
“Darkness?”
“Yes.” He could never lie to this man, even when he wanted to. “There’s darkness in me. There always has been. During the fighting, it came out. I let it out. Mindless rage and killing. She saw it.” Maybe the dead gryphons did too. Maybe that was why they spoke to him. They were trying to keep him from becoming a monster. …Or maybe he was crazy.
Trystan instantly shook his head. “No.”
“Yes. That’s what Lyrssa saw. She was trying to stop me from being lost forever, I think. But I was already damned.”
Trystan was still shaking his head. Refusing to see the truth. “No. You think I don’t feel the pull of darkness waiting to swallow me, as well? All warriors sense that abyss, regardless of which side they fight on. You got closer to the edge than the rest of us and what you saw there frightened you, but it’s not inside of you. You fight it back each time it threatens. I am alive today, because you held it at bay at the Battle of Flags.” Trystan nodded with total confidence. “You will continue to do so.”
That was one of the longest speeches Galahad had ever heard him make. He frowned at Trystan, a little annoyed that he was so self-assured. “You seem pretty confident in my sanity. Too bad I’m not.”
“It is very clear to me. You are a ya’lah.”
“What’s a ya’lah?” Trystan had said the word before.
“A ya’lah is a champion of legend.” Fathomless brown eyes met his. “Someone who gives all they have in the service of others. Someone who does glorious and courageous things, for glorious and courageous reasons. Someone who stands against wrong, no matter the consequences. Someone who protects the innocent. Always.”
Galahad blinked.
“Ya’lahs are born different.” Trystan continued. “They think and act in exceptional ways. They are the guardians of their people and the world. The heroes that all gryphons aspire to be.”
Galahad sighed, wishing he didn’t have to tell the truth. Wishing he could pretend to be the hero that Trystan wanted. “Trys, I’m so sorry. You’re wrong about me. I’m not special, at all. Can’t you see that?”
Trystan arched a brow. “I take you home to my clan, knight. If I did not see you clearly… you would not go.”
There was nothing else Trystan could have said that would have reassured Galahad so fast. Trystan was fanatically protective of his family. He would never, ever endanger them by exposing them to someone drowning in darkness. Someone who couldn’t be redeemed. If Trystan looked at him and saw something special, maybe there was hope for Galahad’s recovery. Hope that he could regain his honor one day and be a fully-functioning partner for the man he loved. Maybe, with Trystan beside him, he wasn’t damned, after all.
Galahad gave him a dazzling smile. “Thank you, Trys. You’re completely wrong about me being the ya’lah, but I feel better.” Opening up a bit hadn’t resulted in disaster. In trying to get Trystan to connect with him, Galahad now felt more connected to Trystan.
It was awesome!
Trystan’s gaze traced over Galahad’s face in something like resignation. “Let’s turn the light off.” He muttered. “It will be easier to stay down here, if I don’t have to look at you.”
“Well, you don’t have to stay on the floor. Seriously, you’re going to throw your back out. What if we agree to just innocently practice kissing on the bed and see where it…?”
Someone pounded on the door, cutting off Galahad’s persuasive words. Both their heads swung towards it. Townspeople were outside, demanding entry.
“Crap.” Galahad muttered, knowing what was coming next. “Don’t say it.”
Trystan arched a brow, perversely pleased to be proven right. “I told you so.”
Chapter Sixteen
The first Looking Glass Campaign dragged on for years. Frustrated that he could not win by force, Uther called a meeting with Queen Lyrssa, claiming he wanted to forge a treaty.
Pledging that he wished to stop his war on the gryphon, if only Lyrssa would have words with him.
Promising peace.
It was a lie. All wingless are liars. I say this often, because it is true.
King Uther trapped Lyrssa in his castle and told her that she must reveal the location of the Looking Glass Pool or face his wrath.
But he had greatly miscalculated. The queen told him that the gryphons would never surrender the graal.
Even if we’d been able to reach it, we would never hand such a treasure over to evil.
How the Wingless War Happened
Skylyn Welkyn- Gryphon Storyteller
The Town’s Hotel- Edge of the Wilds
“Gryphon!” An angry voice shouted from outside the hotel room. “We want to see the knight? We know you’re holding him prisoner! Hand him over or we’ll come in there and get him!”
Trystan grunted. “Shall I slay these men now or do you want to drag out their suffering with your ‘reasoning’ first?” He asked conversationally.
“Don’t start.” Galahad climbed off the bed. “I will deal with this.” He stepped over Trystan, who was still lying on the floor, between the bed and door. “It’ll be fine. Just try not to kill anyone, unless you have to.”
“Life teaches that I always have to.”
Galahad shook his head in exasperation. “And let me do the talking, okay? When you do the talking, things get depressing and violent.” He headed over to the door and yanked it open. “Hello, gentlemen.” He smiled determinedly at the assembled men. “Is there a problem?”
Eight of them were standing in the dilapidated courtyard, several carrying torches. Jesus, did people still make torches? Why? Where did they even find the time? Sometimes Galahad wondered if he was the only one with an actual plan for his life. Everybody else just seemed to be wasting their energy on shit that didn’t matter.
“Sir Galahad, we’re here to set you free.” The largest of the men declared, he had a bushy red beard and a torch in his hand. “You saved our town from the Grundys and now we’ll save you.”
“That’s thoughtful, but not necessary.” Galahad blocked the entire doorway, positioning himself between the men and Trystan, in case the makeshift posse didn’t want to listen to reason. “I’m actually…”
The bearded man cut him off. “We know that the gryphon is holding you here, forcing you to do God-only-knows what.”
Galahad made a rueful face. “Mainly we’re just watching TV, but I’m working on it.”
The man ignored that attempt at humor, caught up in his dramatic spiel. Maybe he’d been practicing in his head. “Come with us now and we’ll keep you safe from him. Our town will no longer be party to injustice.”
“I fully support your new focus on social issues, but…”
“No one is taking my knight.” Trystan interrupted flatly. He remained sitting on the ugly carpet, like he was too bored to bother standing up, but his eyes were watching everything. He leaned forward to glare at the men around
Galahad’s body. “Leave. While you can still walk.” His voice was the stuff of nightmares and legends.
Four men took off running.
Galahad had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. Only Trystan could half the number of enemy forces facing him without even getting to his feet.
“Cowards!” The bearded leader screamed after them.
Galahad cleared his throat and kept a firm smile on his face. “See the thing is, guys… I’m really happy here with Trystan. I don’t need to be rescued. Thanks, though.”
The leader of the posse glowered at Trystan. “You’re making him say that, aren’t you?”
Trystan was silent in a not-particularly-friendly way.
The bearded guy turned to Galahad. “He’s making you say that, isn’t he?”
“Trystan’s never made me do anything. I’m usually the one forcing him into situations, actually. He’s kind of a pushover.”
Trystan gave a contemptuous scoff.
The bearded man didn’t believe that honest assessment of their relationship, either. “Come with us, Sir Galahad. We’ll save you from this demon!”
Galahad felt sorry for him. “This is exactly the kind of thinking that’s kept our people apart for so long. Truly, I’ve been where you are, brainwashed by the propaganda, but it’s all bullshit. The gryphons aren’t all devils and the wingless aren’t all heartless. And Trystan is certainly not a demon. The man is Good straight down to his soul.”
Trystan stood up, which put a slight damper on Galahad’s earnest praise. Huge feet thudded on the floor, his massive body rising up in one smooth, ominous movement. It was like watching a mountain come to life and start towards you, carrying an axe.
Galahad quickly started to ease the door closed, before he had to spend all night cleaning up a grisly crime scene. “So, I’m fine! See? I appreciate your concern, though. Really.”
Beard-Guy put his foot down in the jam, stopping the door from closing. He was either brave, drunk, or stupid. Possibly all three. “If you’re not being held against your will, why are you tied up?” He demanded, still not convinced.
Galahad glanced down at his bound wrists. “Oh… this?”
To be honest, he’d forgotten about the ropes. He was pretty sure he could figure out a way out of them, if he needed to. He had a hundred-and-seventy-eight Knights’ Academy Junior Survival Badges and one of them was for untying magical knots. But pointlessly securing him was such a quirky, harmless, Trystan-y thing to do that Galahad hated to disappoint him by escaping.
“Um…” His mind raced for a reasonable reason as to why Trystan tying him up and abducting him didn’t really count as being tied up and abducted.
Nothing sprang to mind.
“No one. Is taking. My knight.” Trystan repeated, spacing out each word. He dropped his axe so its handle was resting against the wall, right by his side.
His hands slammed onto the doorframe on either side of Galahad’s head, his body positioned directly behind Galahad’s and it was… awesome. Somehow protective and territorial, at the same time. His eyes stayed on the leader of the small group over Galahad’s shoulder and, if Galahad hadn’t already been crazy in love with Trystan, the total bad-ass-ness of the man would’ve won his heart.
Every single person in the rescue-mob took a step back.
Trystan watched them in the animalistic way of an eagle sighting prey. “My knight will be upset if I kill you all.” He paused for a beat. “Don’t make me upset my knight.”
Another posse member stumbled away in terror.
Galahad never would’ve guessed that possessiveness would be a turn on, but Trystan’s dominant stance behind him and the way he said “my knight” in that deep tone really worked for him. Tattooed arms were arranged so Galahad was surrounded without being touched. So there was no mistaking who he belonged to and where he was staying.
Galahad found himself leaning backwards, wanting to be even closer to Trystan’s bare chest. His body brushed against Trystan, instinctively needing… more.
Trystan’s fingers went white around the doorframe. He gave a low growl and moved forward slightly. Apparently, he wasn’t worried about Galahad being upset by his erection, because the hardness was unmistakable and Trystan didn’t seem to care if he felt it.
Wow. That was awesome.
Galahad’s gaze went up to Trystan’s chiseled profile, intrigued. “Adrenaline, again?” He whispered, wanting to soothe the man’s temper, at least a little. Trystan always seemed to like that joke, although it made no sense for a gryphon to like any joke.
Trystan’s chin very subtly rubbed against Galahad’s hair in a caress. “No.” The word was almost soundless. “This is all you.”
Galahad suppressed another smile. “Just remember we’re letting me deal with the guys reasonably.” He whispered back.
Trystan’s mouth shifted closer to Galahad’s temple. “I say many stupid things around you, knight.” His lips grazed against Galahad’s skin. “But I don’t ever recall saying anything that stupid.”
Galahad swallowed. Trystan was pressed against his back, his perfect voice was in his ear, and the heat of his body was enveloping him, uniting them. It was the most erotic moment Galahad ever experienced.
Inspiration struck.
“I’m tied up for sex!” Galahad looked back to the leader of the gang and beamed. “Trys and I play bondage games.”
Trystan’s face snapped down to stare at him. The other three men blinked, like that was the last thing in the world they’d expected to hear. …But no one was threatening bloodshed, anymore.
Galahad triumphantly nodded, pleased with himself. “Trystan and I are dating.” He decided. “Exclusively. Right, Trys?”
Trystan’s eyebrows compressed. “Think about what you’re doing, Galahad.” Whenever he used Galahad’s actual name, you knew he was serious. “You are coming very close to claiming me and you cannot take that back.”
“Claiming’s that thing where you’re made a part of my family, right?”
“A part of your clan. Yes.” His voice was pitched low. “It is very important, in my culture. If you continue on this path, you are irrevocably pledging a part of yourself to me.”
Galahad snorted. “Well, that happened --like-- four days ago.”
Trystan regarded him with open mystification. As if he had no idea what to say.
“It’s already done.” Galahad translated with a shrug. “Sorry.” He wasn’t sorry. “I already claimed you. I didn’t know you didn’t know.” It seemed obvious, so he wasn’t sure why Trystan was surprised.
Trystan’s lips parted. “You’re really going to do this?” He sounded different. Almost vulnerable. “In front of these men, you’re really going to claim me? Do you not understand what it means?”
“For the purposes of this conversation, I’m thinking it means you’re mine.”
Trystan’s head tilted.
Galahad mimicked the gesture, pleased that he had the upper hand. He liked winning. He felt his mouth curve into a triumphant smirk. “Or did you want us to date other guys?”
Trystan’s eyes narrowed slightly at the challenge.
Galahad grinned at him. For once, having a little bit of Badness inside of him was kinda fun. “Yeah… Didn’t think so.” He taunted, cheerily.
“Be careful, knight.” Trystan’s eyes were intent. “I am a pushover with you, but I can also push back. And I have much more experience on this battlefield.”
Trystan’s hips shifted so his erection was in a really interesting spot and Galahad gave a choked gasp, caught off guard. Trystan had never done that before. No one had ever done that before and Trystan knew it. His gaze flew up to Trystan’s, astonished that the other man was being so open about their connection, especially around other people.
Maybe it was because of the other people.
Maybe Trystan liked being publically claimed.
“Try to ‘date’ another male and see what happens.” Trys
tan eased forward with the tiniest bit of pressure and Galahad forgot how to breathe. “See what happens to the Mordys of this world, if they touch you. See what I do to anyone else you look at with that shiny, taunting smile on your face. The man will survive only to linger on in never-ending pain. I promise you.”
Holy shit. The possessiveness was seriously, seriously working for him. Galahad swallowed. Hard. “I don’t want anyone else, Trys. I told you. There’s only you.”
“Good.” Trystan arched a brow, calming at the instant agreement. “Continue telling them that you belong to me, then. For once, you’re ‘reasoning’ makes sense.”
“Um…” Galahad gave his head a shake and tried to concentrate. “Right.” He turned back to the gaping men, hoping his voice was steady. “Like I said: It’s Trystan and me against the world.”
“Which might be fair odds, if you ever picked up a sword.” Trystan muttered. One hand ran over Galahad’s hair, like he just couldn’t help himself. He let out a long sigh, his fingers tangling in the loose curls. “Fuck.”
“You’re dating a guy? A gryphon guy?” The bearded man blurted out at Galahad, finally seeming to catch up with what was happening. He tried to rearrange his thinking and it looked almost painful. “But you’re a knight!”
“I was. Luckily, Trys is willing to overlook that.”
Trystan made a sound that could only be called a snort of amusement.
Galahad glanced at him with an arch look. “Emotionless” his ass.
Trystan quickly tried to cover the betraying sound. “Enough. The knight stays with me.” Aggravated, sexually frustrated, and absolutely gorgeous, he dropped his hand from Galahad’s hair and shot the gathered men a glare. “Do you plan to fight or leave? Decide. Now. Before I decide for you.”
Two more men retreated into the night, leaving their bearded leader alone.
Galahad pretended not to notice. “Don’t mind Trys. He’s always moody.” He told the man, who was looking a little confused and more than a little worried. Like he had no idea what his next step should be. Luckily, Galahad had a great idea. “Actually, I’m glad you’re here. You seem like a very reasonable person. Are you the mayor of this town?”
Best Knight Ever (A Kinda Fairytale Book 4) Page 26