by Jude Marquez
"I figured."
"I don't like him," Alik said and frowned when the laces didn't come free.
"I figured," Eamon repeated. "Why?"
Alik didn't answer right away.
"Alik," Eamon said and he could feel the weariness of the day settling on him.
"I do not care for the way he looks at you," Alik muttered and finally jerked the laces free.
Eamon stared at Alik who was now working on the laces at his wrist. It seemed a cathartic act for him, all the laces, and Eamon was often too impatient to deal with them.
"You?" Eamon said and snorted. "Jealous? Of- of-" Eamon was barely able to hold in his laughter and Alik punched him in the chest and turned from him.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, my King. My King," Eamon said and turned him back around. Eamon gathered him up in his arms and buried his face in Alik's neck and struggled to keep his laughter in. "My King, I extend to you my deepest apologies and wish to show you how little that man has made an impression on me and how much I care for you."
"Do you?" Alik said and Eamon lifted Alik into his arms, wrapped his legs around Eamon's waist and walked them over to the bed where he laid Alik down and grinned at him.
"Yes, my King. I sincerely do."
Eamon proved himself much more adept at undressing Alik than he was at undressing himself and had them both naked within moments. For a long moment, he stared down at Alik before leaning over him and kissing him slowly and then he began to work his way down Alik’s torso.
Alik let himself fall into the mindless pleasure of giving himself over to Eamon. His mind became blissfully empty as Eamon licked and kissed his way down Alik’s torso and he spread his legs as Eamon slid even further down.
“Ah, my favorite spot,” Eamon whispered as he wrapped a hand around Alik’s hard length.
“Where is that?” Alik asked and closed his eyes.
“Between your thighs, of course.”
Those were the last words that registered in Alik’s mind as Eamon leaned forward and swallowed him down, working his way up and down until Alik was arched beneath him, begging and panting.
Eamon pulled off and turned Alik over roughly. Alik gasped when he felt Eamon’s tongue against his entrance, before reaching back to hold his cheeks apart as Eamon eagerly began to lick and kiss at his hole.
It wasn’t long before Alik felt the familiar slide of oil and Eamon’s fingers or the warmth of desire burning him bright from the inside out.
When Eamon deemed him ready, Alik relished in the feeling of Eamon’s hands tight at his hips, hot and possessive all at once and threw back his head as Eamon began the slow push deep inside of him.
“How could I ever want any but you?” Eamon whispered as he continued the slow entrance into Alik’s body. “There was never anyone but you for me.”
Within a few thrusts, Eamon was pushing Alik up higher on the bed before joining him once more. Alik lay on his side and Eamon curled up behind him and lifted Alik’s leg before sliding deep inside of him once more.
Alik turned his head and kissed Eamon. “Tell me again my King.”
“There is none but you for me,” Eamon murmured against Alik’s lips and thrust up against him.
Alik gasped and his eyes rolled up in his head as he felt Eamon graze that spot inside of him that lit him up. Eamon reached around and grasped Alik’s cock in his hand and began stroking him in time with his own thrusts.
It was lazy, a languid type of love making and Alik reveled in it. He had never felt more treasured in his life than he did when Eamon pressed deep inside him.
Alik came with Eamon’s hand wrapped around him and once more found himself face down in the sheets, Eamon on top of him, roughly fucking him as he loved to do when Alik was lazy from his own pleasure.
Eamon came deep inside Alik and Alik was already asleep when Eamon cleaned him up.
Chapter 3
The next morning Avelina was curiously quiet as they rode to the sparring ring. Her gown was blood red and the tiara she wore matched her gown with red stones and silver filigree.
"Can I have a word with my brother?" She asked suddenly and Issat and Milet looked to each other before slowing their horses and the other men so that a respectable distance separated the two groups.
"You don't like him," Eamon said without prompting.
"No," Avelina said and Eamon sighed deeply. "You do?" She asked.
"I do not know what to think of anyone on this cursed piece of land anymore. Before you arrived, Lady Sexton was a wretch. Demonic. She mocked me for not being able to protect you and Lissandra. I didn't know what Margrave was up to. Iolas, the captain's dearest friend, tried to kill me and kidnap the heir to the throne. Enemies are friends and dear friends turn out to try and kill me," Eamon said.
"I can see how that is disconcerting," Avelina said evenly.
"Then why do you not care for him? What is it that I am missing that the rest of you are not?" Eamon asked.
Avelina sighed but she did not have an answer for him.
As they approached the sparring ring, Eamon had to stop and make sure he was properly seeing what he thought he was seeing in front of him.
The men were lined, sparring gear on, silent, weapons ready.
Reeve was looking to them from the front of his own men and frowning at Sir Clifton. Who stood ready with his own men.
"I didn't know that we would be graced by the Princess today," Clifton said and stepped forward to help Avelina down from her horse. As soon as he reached up to help her down, Honey turned and snapped at him and he took a step back. The horse snorted at him and retreated to the safety of Sweet with Avelina still on her back.
"Lord Margrave, if you would be so kind," Avelina said and her voice echoed over the quiet forest and Margrave approached her without hesitation. He helped her down easily and she took his arm in her hand. She stayed close to him and Eamon was suddenly reminded of how Avelina would pretend to be helpless and hide behind Edmond and eventually, Issat. Apparently Margrave was a player in this game as well. It was a game she played well, to throw those that she perceived as enemies off their guard and to ensure that their perception of her was skewed.
Eamon tried not to heave a heavy sigh.
It was a challenging day ahead of them, no doubt.
Eamon swung down from Sweet and handed him off to one of Heaven and turned to Reeve.
"Warmed up and ready, sire," Reeve reported though his usual cheerful manner was stunted. Then he approached Eamon and whispered, "Please tell me you are going to let Princess Avelina fight Captain Perfect. Please, my King. I beg of you."
Eamon considered it but discarded it almost as quickly.
"Not this morning, sir. Pull your best three fighters," Eamon said and Reeve's eyes flitted over to Avelina.
"Excluding royalty," Eamon said.
Reeve's shoulders slumped and he nodded. He returned to his men and Eamon turned to Sir Clifton who was waiting to speak to him.
"Pull your best three men, sir," he ordered.
"I do not think that three would be a challenge for your, my King," Sir Clifton said and his eyes shifted from Eamon's face to his shoulders and down.
Eamon saw what Alik did now.
"Nor would they be. However, this is not a challenge for myself. It is challenge for our men. I wish to see how your men fight against my own," Eamon said and smirked. He turned and took his place next to Avelina. She still clung to Margrave.
Margrave watched from beneath his hood. He still wore his capes though he did not hide behind them as much. Not since Avelina arrived, Eamon noted.
"I do not care for how he looks at you, Your Highness," Margrave muttered as the men sorted themselves out and picked their combatant.
"One gets used to it," Eamon muttered. Clifton was not the first to look at Eamon like he was a meal ready to be devoured; certainly not the first at this court.
"I will write to Lissandra and ask that she visit," Avelina said and it sounded
like a threat.
"Her reign of terror is over," Eamon said.
"Is it really a reign of terror if I only request one death?" Avelina asked and watched the first pair of men face off.
"Dear sister, would you like to challenge the good sir to a fight?" Eamon asked, partially teasing. "I would allow it, should you desire to fight him."
"Not yet," Margrave said. "He hasn't underestimated her enough."
They fell silent and Eamon studied the men as they fought.
Technically, they were near perfect. Eamon sighed with longing when he saw their footwork.
But technique wasn't everything and when it came down to it, the spontaneity of Eamon's men won out, two out of three times.
"Good," Eamon said and clapped Reeve and Sir Athalos on the shoulder both. "You have been working them hard. I can see it."
Sir Athalos remained silent and the usually jovial man studied the other men carefully. "We can learn from them still," he said.
"I suppose so," Reeve said and sighed. He looked forlorn at the idea of learning from Clifton.
Sir Clifton was speaking to his own men and he had one man's head tilted back, a rag stuffed under his bleeding nose. He turned to Eamon when he heard him approach.
"I expected as much," Sir Clifton said with a sigh. "They are battle ready, though they are not battle hardened nor have they been trained by someone of your experience."
"They are good fighters," Eamon said and he watched Sir Clifton's shoulders ease a little at the compliment. "But they need variety. Their technique needs more spontaneity. Nothing we can't fix," he nodded to the men and turned to Reeve and Sir Athalos who were standing nearby, stone faced.
As he did, he heard a murmur behind him and Sir Clifton's sharp reply. Eamon turned and looked to Clifton and the rest of his men who were standing, clearly chastised, but were silent.
"Are there questions?" Eamon asked the crowd out loud.
"Will you be training us, Your Highness?" One man near the back shouted.
"Who was that?" Sir Clifton demanded. It was the first time Eamon heard the man sound anything but polite. Now, he sounded angry.
"It's fine," Eamon said and put a hand on his shoulder. The man immediately went lax under his touch and Eamon withdrew his hand. "Yes, I will train with you and I will train you. Probably not one on one, not all the time. But I do have my closest who will work with you. Let me introduce you," Eamon turned. "Sir Athalos, captain of the men you see before you and experienced fighter in his own right," Sir Athalos raised his hand and the eyes landed on him. Broad with a gleaming head and a smile almost always on his mouth, he was a good man and a decent leader of the soldiers.
"Reeve, who keeps my men fed, trained, and accounted for," Reeve, with his tan skin and fox like eyes, gazed at the men in front of him and nodded. He was smarter than he let on and had a tendency to be distrustful, but when he was won over, he was yours for life.
"Milet, captain of Heaven's Infinite, my personal guard," Milet stood in front of his own guard, their silver armor gleaming, their dark purple cloaks barely moving in the wind. He was intimidating and only nodded once at the others.
"Princess Avelina, trained personally by me from the time she was-" Eamon paused and he knew all the men were staring at her openly now, possibly reconsidering her. "Well, let's us just say that there isn't a time in Princess Avelina's life when she hasn't been able to take care of herself." Still clinging to Margrave's arm and looking like a fragile young girl in a pretty dress, Eamon had to remind himself how smart his youngest sister was. How charmingly deceptive she could be. A snake in her own right.
"Captain of her guard, Lady Issat, also known as the Lady of Nightfell. She was the former captain to King Alik himself, so she comes highly recommended." There was a soft chuckle that rippled through the crowd. Issat crossed her arms over her chest and looked unimpressed at the ones in front of her as she stood at Avelina's side.
"Lord Margrave Thomlin is my closest confidant. He holds mine and my husband's highest confidences and has a strategic mind unlike anything I've ever seen in my all my time on the battlefield. While he will not train you, he does have strong recommendations for me and believe me when I say, he is the man you want to impress." Margrave rolled his eyes when Eamon winked at him.
"Will King Alik join us?" Another called out.
Sir Clifton looked livid.
"Rarely," Eamon said.
"When he does, you will wish he had not. King Eamon shows off for his beloved and that means hell for you," Milet said. His words were directed at the crowd but his dark eyes were only on Sir Clifton.
"Were those your best three fighters?" A man closer to the front asked.
"No," Eamon said and grinned. "I wanted you men to leave the field with a small hope of confidence."
Sir Clifton's men looked uneasily at each other.
"Reeve?" Eamon called out.
"Sire," he replied.
"Let us begin."
WHEN EAMON ARRIVED at his rooms, he expected to find Alik there but the room was empty and the fireplace was barely holding a flame. A servant bustled in and stoked the fire and made sure that the bathing room was ready for him.
"The King?" Eamon asked.
"He found himself in a late meeting, Your Highness. Shall I get him?" The girl asked.
"No, I'll wait," Eamon replied and dismissed her.
Eamon bathed and laid down on his bed and must have dozed off because when he woke, Alik was sitting on the bed, tugging gently at his hair.
"What do you think everyone would do if we cut it off?" Alik asked.
"Well, first of all, you'll have to render me unconscious. This is the last of the style of my men back home and I will keep it until I die," Eamon said.
"Don't say that," Alik said.
Eamon studied and he saw the circles under his eyes and the tension in his shoulders.
"What? Death? It is a part of all things," Eamon said. He groaned as he sat up and rubbed at his face. Alik seemed to be in a strange mood tonight. "It is nothing to fear."
"I cannot do this without you," Alik said.
"You can. You have been," Eamon said.
"I do not wish to," Alik muttered and he looked petulant. He looked so much like Lambin in that moment that Eamon had to work at not laughing at him. "I do not wish to do any of this without you."
"You won't. I'm here. You brought me here. You saved me, remember? On that cliff outside my home. You looked like a demon, drenched in blood, commanding my wolves. I'm here, my love." Eamon said and pressed a kiss into his shoulder. "What bothers you?"
Alik sighed.
Eamon closed his eyes. "What did you hear?" He asked.
"That he adores you-" Alik started.
"All soldiers adore me, it is the nature of those damned stories that they've heard-"
"That his men are brilliant-"
"I wouldn't say brilliant; though they are good-"
"That he follows your orders to the letter-"
"As all soldiers should-"
"That his eyes follow you-"
"I can't tear them out for him staring at me, Alik-"
"Avelina offered-"
"Stop," Eamon said and covered his mouth. "Yours is the only bed I seek, the only man I care to spend my nights with. I am not just a soldier, I am a King. I am your King, as you are mine and I will serve you as long as you allow it."
Alik frowned at him.
"As the Crown Prince, you have never competed for anything in your life, have you?" Eamon said and pressed a kiss to Alik's compliant mouth. "And you won't have to this time either, Your Highness," Eamon kissed him again. "Though I look forward to you trying."
"What does that mean?"
"You are cousin to Margrave and I know there is more mischief in you than you let on. I look forward to seeing it," Eamon said and laughed. "Let's go to dinner. I have worked all day and waited to eat with you."
Alik allowed himself to be bustled out of the r
oom and the soldiers escorted them down the hall. None of the rest of their retinue joined them and Milet told him that they had already sat down in the Great Hall so that everyone could begin to eat.
When Alik and Eamon entered the hall, Eamon couldn't help but notice that their evening meal must have been at least half done with; most of the people were done with their plates and were socializing. As his eyes swept the room, he noted that Sir Clifton was there, near the back, with a dozen or so of his highest ranking officers. The entire room stood at their entrance and Alik smiled broadly at them.
As they sat, so did the room. Their dinner was brought forward and they began to eat eagerly and more than once Eamon couldn't help but notice that a few of the older couples were rolling their eyes indulgently at the raised dais and he thought he heard Lady Neale whisper to one of her daughters something about newlyweds.
Eamon slowly put his knife down and turned to Alik who was toying with his goblet.
"Well played, sir. Did Margrave think of it?" Eamon asked.
"I have no idea what you are referring to," Alik said primly and Eamon saw Margrave's shoulders twitch at his name. He was listening.
"I am sure you don't. Giving the impression that we were too busy ravaging each other in our rooms to pay attention to what time it is to get to dinner in a timely fashion? I would never think that of you. You are the King and are clearly beyond silly jealousy," Eamon said, his tone heavy with sarcasm.
"See? Darling husband, you know me so well," Alik said.
"I am not saying I mind the implication. I do not," Eamon said and raised an eyebrow. "But I would just like to remind you that we do have a war to wage."
"I have not forgotten. In another month, the ships will have gathered. I have been in contact with the Ruin and they will have our western flanks though their numbers leave a little to be desired," Alik said.
"They are fierce warriors and can gather information better than any I have met. They will have their uses and they will meet our needs," Eamon said. "What else is on your mind?"
"The southern border. I would like to see a force of some kind there, to funnel the people out and away. What do you think?" Alik asked.