Best Knight Ever (A Kinda Fairytale Book 4)

by Cassandra Gannon

  Galahad shrugged in a stubbornly silent way.

  Trystan sighed and gave up on his fleeting hope for any kind of rational behavior from the man. “I should have kept you tied up.” He muttered. “You were easier to deal with.”

  “I was?”

  “Not really. You’re always a pain in the ass.” Trystan frowned down at him, irritated and intrigued that the exertion of the climb had added an appealing glow to his skin. “If we both survive this lunacy, you will owe me a boon, by the way.”

  “Rock climbing lessons?”

  Trystan leaned closer to him. “No. But you will be using your hands.”

  Galahad gave a slow smirk, filled with gleaming Badness and delightfully carnal ideas. “Well, that sounds promising.”

  Gods, Trystan would follow that beautiful, wicked grin right off a cliff.

  He grabbed the fabric of the knight’s shirt, dragging him forward. “Hold onto me.” His arms went around Galahad’s waist, gripping him close. Trystan was unwilling to go through another moment of watching the man’s acrobatic skills. His heart couldn’t take the strain.

  Galahad gave a start of surprise, automatically clutching Trystan’s shoulders as huge wings lifted them into the air. “Holy shit!” He gave a laugh of elation, enjoying the sensation of flight. “Holy shit! I can’t believe you can do this and we’re not always doing this.”

  Trystan’s mouth curved. “Perhaps, I did not want you to think I am arrogant.”

  “You are arrogant.” Galahad leaned up to kiss him. “And it really works for me.”

  That was fortunate, since Trystan really liked kissing. He liked the way it tightened his insides with desire and the feel of Galahad’s lips softening beneath his own. As with all things he liked, he was now devoting himself to the mastery of it. The wingless culture had contributed little of value to the world, but kissing was truly a great achievement for their people. Trystan intended to perfect their invention.

  The knight seemed delighted with his enthusiastic response. His mouth parted, accepting Trystan’s possession. He leaned into Trystan’s body, putting himself into Trystan’s care. And all the somethings inside Trystan agreed that was exactly how it was supposed to be. A hungry sound escaped him, as he deepened the kiss. Oh yes… This was all exactly right.

  Trystan carried them over the wall of fire and landed on the smooth white entrance to Corbenic Cave, his mouth still drinking in Galahad’s moonlit taste. Everything about this man was perfect. The light of his smile, and the million artistic ideas in his head, and the way he flew without looking down.

  Everything about him was… everything.

  “Trys?” Galahad finally pulled back. “Hang on, okay? I gotta do something real quick.”

  Trystan gave a growl of displeasure at his retreat. “How quick? I want my boon. Now.”

  This area seemed secure, for the moment. The fire was safely behind them and that was always good news when exploring a fire cavern. No creatures were attacking, yet. Also, a positive sign. Trystan saw no reason to release Galahad, when he didn’t have to. For weeks, he’d been in a state of near constant need. He didn’t want to stop touching the one person who could give him some relief.

  Easing someone with your hands was seen as more meaningful among the gryphons than it was with the wingless. Trystan had never given or received pleasure that way before, because the idea of it was too intimate for his liking. But in the knight’s culture, it was regarded as a smaller step on the path to further mating, so Trystan had given it a try for Galahad’s comfort. Oddly, Trystan had liked the experience.

  A lot.

  He liked that the knight faced him when they engaged in the act, his dazed eyes on Trystan’s. He liked the feel of the man’s release on his skin. He liked the intimacy of it all. With Galahad, it was not so uncomfortable to be close to someone. It felt right. Trystan now wished to try the experience again, with the knight’s palm stroking him this time. He already suspected it was going to be revelatory.

  “Give me ten minutes.” Galahad’s teeth nipped the edge of his jaw and Trystan’s whole body jolted. “I’m in the lead up here, remember?”

  “I do not remember agreeing to that or anything else you’ve been claiming.”

  “It was implied.”

  The knight slipped away and Trystan reluctantly let him go. The night before, Trystan had made the choice to delay his own pleasure. It was hard to remember why that had ever seemed like a sound strategy. His gaze lingered on the width of the knight’s shoulders and then drifted downward. Very, very hard.

  Galahad unlooped the satchel from around his body. “You wait here and… wait.” His eyes flicked down to the bulge of Trystan’s arousal and he looked anything but sympathetic. “Not for nothing, but you wouldn’t be this impatient if you’d let me handle that last night.”

  “Oh, you will be handling it very soon. I promise you.”

  Galahad arched a brow, amused and interested. “Give me five minutes.” He revised and pulled his shirt off over his head, without bothering to unbutton it. He stripped off his pants and shoes next. Then, he dumped all his clothes in a pile. “Can you watch these for me?”

  What the hell?

  As much as he appreciated the sight of the man’s naked body, Trystan was baffled by that action. Even by the knight’s standards, it seemed odd. Still, if Galahad wanted to undress, Trystan certainly wasn’t going to complain. His tongue ran along the edge of his teeth, tilting his head to get a better view. This was turning into one of the better misadventures that the knight had dragged him on.

  Galahad glanced at him, noticing the increasing hunger of his gaze. “Five minutes.” He repeated and dug around in the satchel. He pulled out the silver shield he’d found in Medusa’s tomb, spinning it around with a practiced toss. “Maybe less.”

  Trystan frowned, coming out of his trance. Wait… Why did he need that shield? “Knight? Do you know something about this cavern that you have yet to mention?”

  “Well, I don’t know it. It’s just a theory.” Galahad headed straight for the mouth of the cave. It loomed like a white abyss around him. “I’ve been really interested in encryptions, ever since I started decoding the secret language of dolphins.” (Of course, he was talking to dolphins.) “And lately I’ve been using the map to decipher the engraving on Evalach’s shield. It says some stuff about the cave, actually.”

  A feeling of foreboding gripped Trystan.

  Evalach had been a gryphon warrior of great renown. His weapons had all been forged with magic and purpose. Why would he have led Galahad to the weapon? Why would any of the ceremonial writing on the shield match up with Galahad’s cheap treasure map?

  Unless it wasn’t a cheap treasure map. Unless Trystan had been a total idiot to dismiss it so easily. Unless Galahad had let him dismiss it, because it was easier than revealing things he didn’t want to share. Unless the unpredictable Captain of the King’s Men had outflanked Trystan all over again and was actually questing after something real.

  Son of a bitch.

  For the first time, all of Trystan’s focus locked onto the knight’s mysterious “mission.” “Galahad, where did that map come from?” He demanded, his mind sharpening.

  Galahad glanced at him, hearing the new intensity in his tone and looking wary. “I told you, in a library on Sarras.” He stopped right at the entrance to the cavern, his feet braced apart.

  “You found it on Sarras, but who made the map? Why would someone match the writing on it to the seywas on a gryphon’s shield?”

  Galahad said nothing.

  Son of a bitch…

  “It’s a gryphon map.” Trystan whispered, answering his own question, because it was obvious, now. “You are on this mission to find a gryphon treasure.”

  Galahad muttered a curse, frustrated that Trystan was onto him now. “I’m not going to steal the gold.” He assured him, like that would be Trystan’s first concern. “I’m going to build an art school with it.”

&n
bsp; Trystan stared at him in total shock, his mind whirling.

  “I was going to try and split the gold up among all the gryphons I could find, but I was worried they wouldn’t take it. They hate me. …With good reason. But, you guys love kids, so a school seemed like a perfect way to honor your people. The gryphons who left it behind would want it helping children, way more than just staying buried someplace, right?” He sighed. “Except, now I’m sure there isn’t any gold. I’m looking for ‘a treasure beyond price,’ but I’m not sure what that actually means.”

  Trystan was pretty fucking sure what it meant.

  He took a deep breath. “So, we are here to see a gryphon mural?” Oddly enough, that idea struck him as the most unlikely part of all. “Gryphons do not make art. They don’t make maps, either.”

  …Except memories flickered through Trystan’s mind. Fisher talking to him about hiding maps in libraries, as the city of Pen Rhionydd burned around them.

  Holy. Shit.

  “I don’t know who made the mural.” Galahad assured him, not noticing Trystan’s stupefied stare. “But, I’m sure the map came from a gryphon. I’ve been following the clues on it and they led me here.”

  Trystan gave his head a clearing shake. Okay. One step at a time. “Why are you taking off your clothes to see a mural made by anyone?”

  “Honestly, I’m afraid they’ll get burned, when…” He stopped short, his gaze suddenly going to the ceiling. “Hang on.”

  Trystan looked up, too, his attention shifting. Inside Corbenic Cave, nothing moved. Nothing even seemed to live. Trystan saw nothing but white walls and a curved ceiling that stretched back to a far off vanishing point. …But Galahad was braced for a battle.

  Son of a bitch.

  He drew his sword and stalked forward, ready to fight whatever was about to attack them. “Knight, move away. I will…”

  A hand made of fire dropped out of the ceiling. Twice the size of a tabletop, with flaming fingers, it slammed down like it was swatting a bug.

  Right onto Galahad.

  Trystan’s world stopped. “No!” The conflagration completely engulfed the knight’s body, swirling like a vortex as the fiery fist clenched around him. No one could survive that attack. It was impossible. Trystan knew that even as he moved. He ran for the hand-creature, ready to reach right into the flames and somehow pull Galahad out. …But he never got the chance.

  The fire-hand let out a sudden shriek of otherworldly pain and reared back, away from Galahad. Rather than a flattened pile of ash, the knight was still standing there. Completely unharmed, the silver shield held above his head and not a mark on his muscular body.

  Trystan’s mouth dropped open in relief, and astonishment and… wonder.

  He gaped at Galahad. In that second, he saw the hero who wouldn’t open fire on his retreating enemies. The warrior who’d defeated five gryphons with shackles on his hands. The idealist who withstood banishment to free a gryphon hostage from torture. The artist whose ideas brightened the world. The kindhearted man who’d remembered to buy his goddaughter’s flying carpet. The only being alive who could possibly, maybe, rival Trystan in battle.

  He saw his mate.

  Unable to kill the knight, the fire-hand began crawling towards Trystan, its fingers propelling it along like a spider. Trystan dragged his attention away from Galahad and scanned the creature’s intangible form for a place to stab.

  “Stop!” Galahad shifted position, keeping himself between the fire-monster and Trystan. “It’ll kill you! It won’t kill me!” He turned his head, frantic blue eyes meeting Trystan’s. “If you are ever going to trust me at any moment in your life, this is the moment.”

  Trystan’s gaze held Galahad’s for a heartbeat of time and he did the stupidest thing a warrior could do: He stopped fighting.

  Trystan stepped back, his heart pounding. “Do not die.” He got out hoarsely.

  The knight’s eyes widened, like he was surprised that Trystan agreed.

  He wasn’t the only one. “You have twenty goddamn seconds.” Trystan couldn’t believe he was agreeing to even that long. “Then, we are both leaving.”

  “We agreed on five minutes!”

  “I never agreed to that!”

  Galahad’s mouth curved, a confident smile glinting. “We’ll compromise on three.” He spun the shield around and slammed it into the huge fiery hand.

  Fisher had been wrong, when he said no one was the ya’lah. He’d never met Galahad of Camelot. The knight was glorious. Every move was perfect. No one else in all of creation could fight as he did. That ridiculous match against Vallon had been beautiful, but this was… art. Gods, if they survived this, Trystan was going to insist that they try sparring. It would be an absolute revelation to cross swords with an equal.

  The massive hand hit against the shield, crazed by Galahad’s continued evasion. The light of its fiery fingers seemed to intensify, reflecting off the mirrored surface. Rather than killing the creature, the shield seemed to be feeding it.

  There was no way Galahad could keep holding it back forever. No matter how skilled he was, the creature was monstrous, now. It grew brighter and brighter, bigger and bigger, its color changing from yellow, to orange, to brilliant red. Smoke rose off the shield, as the hand tried to reach Galahad. The fire-monster was getting stronger.

  Trystan shook his head, unwilling to continue this madness. “Knight…”

  “Trystan, do not move!” He bellowed, as if he could feel Trystan’s struggle to stay still. “I’ve got this.” He kept the shield up, pushing back against the force of the hand. It was soon white hot and swollen to a monstrous size.

  Trystan wasn’t sure how Galahad had survived so far, but he wasn’t about to push his luck. “Twenty seconds are up! That thing is about to explode. Let’s go!”

  “We agreed on three minutes!”

  “I never agreed to…”

  The hand exploded.

  For one timeless instant, Trystan was sure Galahad had detonated with it, his body blown apart and his light gone from the world. The shield somehow absorbed the fire and energy, sucking it into its supercharged surface. A blast of power went out, so bright that Trystan squinted against the glare. Then, the blinding glow faded. A small shower of flames and sparks rained down, but with nothing to burn, they quickly fizzled out, leaving everything quiet.

  And the knight still stood there, not a scratch on his perfect body.

  Trystan collapsed forward, bending at the waist, so his hands rested on his knees. Every prayer of thanks, to every god of his childhood, ran through his mind on a loop. He was fairly sure he would never recover from witnessing that.

  Galahad made a “huh” sound, not even winded. “The writing on the shield was right. That did work.” He gave the silver surface a knock with his knuckles, like he was trying to figure out where the fire had gone. “Is it like a battery or something? Maybe a portal? The engravings didn’t say.”

  Trystan very slowly turned his head to look at him.

  “You were amazing, by the way.” Galahad enthused. “I can’t believe you trusted me to handle that. This is a huge step forward in our relationship.” He paused the way he always did when some new, bizarre thought entered his head. “Hey, do you think that hand-thing was an animal or just an enchantment? I’d hate to have killed an endangered species.”

  Trystan straightened up to his full height. “Knight,” he said in a very calm tone, “why are you still alive?”

  “Oh, right.” Galahad made a self-conscious face. “I’m impervious to fire.”

  “You’re impervious to fire.” Trystan could barely hear his own voice over the pounding in his ears. “This seems… unusual.”

  “Yeah, it’s kind of a new thing.” Galahad agreed. “It’s just my skin and hair that’s fireproof, not the clothes I’m wearing. I learned that the hard way. But the spell is still a lot more useful than I thought it would be.” He hesitated. “It’s a protection spell. Did I mention that? See, when I was
traveling around, looking for the map, I met the Princess of the Salamanders. Really sweet girl.”

  Trystan’s head tilted, almost hypnotized.

  “She’d lost her golden ball down a well, right?” Galahad went on. “Her dad had given it to her, before he ran off with this local frog-woman. That affair was a huge scandal. So, the princess was crying because the ball was gone forever and I wanted to help. Luckily, I’m pretty good at free-diving.” He shrugged. “And the well wasn’t that haunted and bottomless.”

  Trystan stifled a wince.

  “So, I got the ball out and she was like, ‘I have to reward you.’ I tried to refuse, but I think it’s a cultural thing with salamanders to repay favors. So she says, ‘Let me make you impervious to fire.’” Galahad nodded like all of that made perfect sense. “Turns out, all salamanders are fireproof. I’m not sure why. Anyway, I didn’t want to be rude, so I said okay.”

  “Good choice.” Trystan said vaguely.

  “Right? For some reason, I’ve always been slightly immune to consumer magic. Like those weird potions people sell. But, the salamanders’ magic comes from nature, just like the sandman’s sleeping dust. That’s way more powerful and it seems to work great!” He spread his arms, casually pleased. “And it is pretty cool to be fireproof. I never have to wear a hat, because I don’t get sunburned, either.” He paused. “I thought I’d be okay when I was tied to that pig pyre, too, but it turns out I’m not impervious to smoke. The princess didn’t mention that part.”

  Lyrssa save him…

  Trystan reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose, still trying to calm down. Caring for a ya’lah was stressful. He felt stress. Was that an emotion?

  “You okay, Trys?” Galahad headed over to collect his clothing, his brow furrowed. “You weren’t hurt were you?”

  “No. I am fine.” Trystan cleared his throat. “I am just considering many, many things.”

  Galahad still looked troubled as he pulled on his pants. “Considering whether you want to stay allies?” He guessed in a more serious tone. “Because I keep getting you attacked?”

  “No.” The knight was the only path he would ever take, even if it turned Trystan’s wings prematurely gray. The undeniable feeling that he’d found his mate had taken root and would not fade, no matter how he tried to ignore it. “Our alliance is irrevocable.”