Sword of the King

by Megan Derr

  He looked out over the lake again, stifling a sigh, and decided to just fucking wait until Nev woke up. Enjoying a few minutes of peaceful solitude wouldn't kill anyone.

  Several minutes passed with nothing, but the soft whisper of the forest and the lake lapping at the rocks, and Ken started to feel better despite the problems still looming. Combined with all the recent drama, it was enough to make him drowsy, his eyes slipping shut despite his efforts to keep them open.

  He was just about to drift off when he heard voices. Ken tensed, in his lap Nev immediately snapped awake, gold eyes glowing as he sensed a threat. But it could just be Blaze or—

  No, that laugh was new. Ken held a finger to his lips. Nodding, Nev rolled off his lap and stood, quietly removing his clothes. Ken considered drawing his gun, but in the end left it holstered. The sunlight glinted off Nev's scales as he slipped into the dark shade of the trees and back toward the house.

  Staying in the cover of the trees, they watched as nine men walked along the footpath, four of them dragons, the remaining five armed to the teeth. He didn't know what syndicate they were from, but he knew syndicate goons when he saw them.

  Trouble had arrived, then, and was trying to sneak through the woods. But the real question was: Why were they heading away from Rafael's house rather than toward it?

  The question answered itself as another group rounded the bend. Ken saw that they carried an unconscious Cam, bound and thrown over the shoulders of a man even Ken would not want to meet in a dark alley.

  Damn it, Cam must have been out for a walk or something; Rafael had no doubt sent him out when Amr arrived until he could be certain Cam would be safe around Amr.

  Fuck fuck fuck.

  Ken motioned to Nev, who silently slipped away into the trees to weave his way around and trap them from behind. Drawing his gun, Ken drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. He waited until they were close, then broke cover, aimed at the nearest guy, and fired.

  He nailed the bastard right in the back, and managed to clip another before he was forced to dive for cover. In the next second, he heard screams as Nev made his appearance. As soon as the guns stopped firing, Ken leapt from cover again and managed to kill the second guy, before he nailed a third. Someone fired a shot that barely missed him, and Ken quickly returned fire before dodging behind another tree.

  He didn't reemerge until he heard Nev roar in triumph, and then he slowly made his way out. If he went down there was no telling how Nev would react; only a really stupid owner risked himself more than strictly necessary in a fight instead of trusting his dragon.

  Most of the men were down, and Nev made short work of those remaining. Two of the four dragons cowered after seeing how quickly and easily he killed their companions. Growling, his muzzle and chest streaked with blood, Nev stalked toward them.

  The two dragons, one flame, one rock, growled and snarled, tensed for a last battle—until all three froze at the sound of people rushing toward them. Ken tensed, lifted his gun, and waited.

  He slumped in relief and lowered the gun again as he saw Blaze, Erie, and all the others.

  "What the fuck?" Blaze demanded.

  Nev ignored them, running over to Ken. He shifted. "Ken okay?"

  "Of course I'm—" It was only then that Ken realized he was in pain. Nev whined with frantic worry, reaching out toward the wound at Ken's side where a bullet must have clipped him.

  Damn it.

  He really wished the not noticing had lasted just a little longer. "I'm okay, Nev. I do worse to myself all the time, you know that."

  "Ken hurt."

  "It just looks like a lot of blood," Ken said, holding one hand to the wound, reaching out with the other to give Nev's arms a reassuring squeeze. "Come on, let's go join the others and we can go back to the house and get me patched—"

  The last thing he heard was Nev roaring in dismay.

  *~*~*

  Ken woke up in a dark room with Nev plastered to his uninjured side. He felt overheated, itchy, and cranky. Of course he'd managed to get himself shot, and of course he'd passed out.

  Nev groaned as he stirred, protesting the disturbance, then finally lifted his head. Grumpiness at being awake immediately vanished as he realized Ken was awake. "Better? Okay? No hurt? Ken hurt, Nev bad—"

  Ken stopped the flood of words with a kiss, sinking his hand into Nev's hair and fisting it tightly, not giving Nev any choice but to hold still. Nev tasted like dragon—metal and smoke and blood—with a faint hint of the caramels he loved so damn much. He tasted like the only home Ken understood. "Good dragon," he whispered when he finally drew back, easing his grip and combing through Nev's hair. "I'm fine, just feeling sore and stupid. Are you okay?"

  "Fine. Not hurt. Ken hurt." Nev whined and nuzzled against him, hands opening and closing on Ken's body as though he didn't know quite what to do with himself.

  "I'm fine," Ken repeated. "Banged up like usual, never gonna win a beauty contest, but fine, dragon. As long as you're okay, I'm good."

  Nev growled, low and soft, and lightly nipped his jaw. "Nev fine."

  "How's Cam?"

  "Sleep. Lots of drugs. Sleep all night, Raf says."

  Ken grunted at that. "I'm not surprised. The leak, whoever the fuck he is, would have told people what it took to capture Cam in the first time. Poor bastard, he doesn't get to go for anymore walks. Get off me, dragon."

  Nev growled and didn't budge.

  "Dragon, I need to take a piss. It's a stupid scratch, I'm not going to die. There's no way, after collapsing like a fucking wuss, that any god would be kind enough to let me die. Now get up." He pinched Nev's ass for good measure, laughing when Nev yelped. Laughing hurt, but it was worth it.

  He groaned as he slowly climbed out of bed, feeling like an old man as he ambled to the bathroom. Grimacing at the light as he flicked it on, Ken made quick work of pissing, but got caught up staring at himself in the mirror as he washed his hands.

  As per usual, he looked like shit. It was one fucking bullet, and a graze at that, why did he look like someone ran him over with a truck? He examined the bandages wrapped around his chest, grimacing. Was that much bandaging really necessary for a fucking graze?

  Ken slowly walked back into the bedroom. He sat down at the foot of the bed, wincing and holding his side as it protested the movement, and tried to decide what they should do.

  The clock on the nightstand said it was just after ten pm. Good time for sneaking away, though he felt guilty not thanking someone for keeping his stupid, unwanted ass alive.

  He smiled as Nev sat at his feet and laid his head in Ken's lap, rumbling softly. Ken threaded his fingers through Nev's hair. "Why are you sucking up, dragon?"

  "Stay?" Nev asked, speaking so softly that Ken barely heard him.

  His smile faded as the words registered. "You really want to stay?"

  Nev drew a breath and looked up at him, amber eyes so bright and earnest that they twisted Ken's gut. "It's good here."

  The words were a punch to his gut, as his mind flipped through all the reasons he'd planned on leaving, all the reasons no one would care if they did—but Nev never asked him for anything.

  If making Nev happy meant putting up with every nasty, condescending, frustrating remark that Mordred made, then fine, Ken would grit his teeth and put up with it. "If you want to stay, then we'll stay, unless someone tells us to leave. Okay?"

  Nev beamed, and then reared up to kiss him, sloppy and overeager and the happiest Ken had seen him in forever. "Let me up, Nev, I need to go find food." He stood up slowly after Nev backed away, then walked to the door—and hesitated.

  There was nothing quite as bad as having to face people after making a fool of himself, especially when they'd saved his life shortly thereafter. How the fuck did he get himself into so many stupid situations time and time again?

  Stifling a sigh, annoyed with himself, Ken yanked the door open and slowly made his way down the hall. Nearly all the lights in the house were
off, so maybe everyone was asleep and he'd actually catch a break for once.

  As he drew closer to the living room, he could see flickering blue-white lights that could only belong to a television. Making a face, he forced himself to keep walking until he reached the living room.

  To his relief, it was only Blaze, sprawled across the couch and idly flipping channels. Erie, in dragon form, was curled up on the floor in the middle of the room fast asleep. No Amr, thank fucking god. He hesitated, then decided that if Blaze hadn't noticed him then it was best not to bug him.

  He was halfway to the kitchen when Blaze called out, "You're awake sooner than Raf said you'd be."

  Ken stopped, one hand going reflexively for his aching side before he caught the movement and forced himself to hold still. "I've been clipped by bullets before; I don't know why this particular one knocked me on my ass so hard."

  "It was spelled," Blaze said. "Amr sensed the magical residue on you, and he found the bullet not too far off. He said there was a spell on it to encourage blood loss. Nasty sorcery, he called it. I didn't even know Amr knew magic."

  "Well, yeah," Ken said. "He's a Mordred. The Mordred originally belonged to the Clan le Fay, which is the only official clan that still practices magic. Morgana, who helped create the knight dragons, founded the Clan le Fay. Dragons are weak to magic, so its use is mostly forbidden amongst the clans, but we—" He broke off, then corrected himself. "The clans would be stupid to go without it entirely, so the magic they do use is heavily restricted and regulated. Clan Mordred abandoned le Fay and the others in part, they say, because they refused to obey all the strictures regarding magic."

  Blaze shook his head. "Crazy shit, man. I met a demon once; that was more than enough magic for me. Amr said whoever put the spells on those bullets is a mean piece of work and probably has uglier tricks we don't want to see."

  "Great," Ken muttered. "I need a beer."

  "Sit," Blaze said, waving a hand at the couch. "You look like death warmed over, and having been in that position myself more than a few times, I can fetch you a beer. There's leftover lasagna, too."

  Ken's stomach growled just thinking about food. Blaze laughed and vanished into the kitchen. More than willing to be waited on, Ken wandered over to the couch and sat down. He glanced at the TV, but had no idea what was going on. The show that looked like it was supposed to be amusing, but TV shows were as strange to him as the normals who watched them. Growing up, most of his time was spent working with Nev and studying, then later helping Rick and his brothers with various clan assignments and duties. Whenever he'd actually watched TV, it was largely because he'd run out of everything else to do.

  His stomach growled again as Blaze returned with a plate full of food and two beers. He set up a TV tray in front of Ken and set everything on it. Taking one of the beers, he settled back down in his spot on the couch. They watched in silence as Nev wandered into room in dragon form, rubbed against Ken in greeting, then lay down with Erie in a gigantic dragon pile.

  "So did I miss anything interesting?" Ken asked as he began to eat, and fuck, if he had to stay to make Nev happy then at least he'd have good food to eat.

  Blaze shook his head. "Not really. Raf called his brother to tell him what happened. I won't be surprised if Leo shows up tomorrow to remind us that he's scarier or something. Raf and Amr went outside a little while ago. I have no idea why, though it definitely seemed like it was a private party."

  Ken didn't miss the thin line of tension underscoring the carefully disinterested tone. It made him want to punch Amr all over again. "Sorry, man. Never any accounting for taste."

  "Whatever," Blaze said. "I have Erie, I shouldn't be thinking about someone else."

  The words made Ken pause, fork halfway to his mouth. He set it down and took a swallow of beer. "Everything Amr taught you, and he didn't bother to pass on that it's not the same thing at all?"

  Blaze frowned at him. "What are you talking about?"

  "Dragons don't care what humans you fuck," Ken said. "Shit, in the clans, people marry all the time and ... well, there's lots of sharing, let me put it that way."

  To his complete astonishment, Blaze turned bright red. "Uh—"

  Ken burst out laughing, then immediately groaned in pain. "Stop making me laugh."

  "Stop being an ass," Blaze retorted, fighting a smile. "You clan people are some kinky motherfuckers."

  "Yeah, cause I can tell your mind never went there," Ken replied, shoving at him.

  Blaze kicked his ankle. "Shut the fuck up."

  "You started this conversation, jackass. Do you need a birds and bees talk, cause I don't think we've been friends long enough for that." Friends. He was probably making a big assumption with that word, but it wasn't like he could take it back.

  "Ugh," Blaze said, and kicked him again. "You even fucking try it, asshole, and this friendship ends now."

  Ken picked up his beer and drained it to hide the emotions that struck him. Slamming the empty bottle down on his tray, he said, "Get me another beer and I promise to talk about the weather instead."

  Blaze rolled his eyes, but stood up and went to get more beer.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Rafael stared at the scenery without really seeing it, lost in his own head.

  Dragons didn't mingle much with the rest of the paranormal world, mostly because everybody was either terrified of them or disgusted by the pits. Rafael found it a bit depressing that people would rather tolerate goblins than dragons, but there was precious little he could do about it.

  So magic wasn't something he'd ever seen much of, past the odd little tricks that he occasionally saw people cast in his coffee shop. Those small spells weren't enough to brace him for the way Amr easily summoned fire to burn the bodies of the men who had attacked them. Just the bodies burned, which was the most impressive part. Even the ground on which they lay did not bear a single scorch mark; not a single blade of grass was so much as singed.

  Rafael wanted to ask him a million questions, but figured it could wait for a more appropriate time given they'd already been outside three hours, and that after the fight in the woods, saving Ken and getting him back to the house, and then getting everyone fed and settled.

  There were fifteen bodies in all: ten men and five dragons. Rafael felt a deep pang of sadness for the dragons, and quietly said a prayer for them. The men could rot, for all he cared. On top of every other problem they'd caused, he had to put up with his brother in the morning. For that irritation alone Rafael half wished the men were still alive when Amr set them on fire.

  But it was troubling that the first group of men, who had tried to kill Blaze when he was still near Rust territory, had numbered only six and the latest group had very nearly tripled that. It meant they were well informed, and that whoever was leaking the information was also well informed.

  "That's the last one," Amr said, pulling Rafael from his thoughts. He looked exhausted. His thick, dark hair stood on end where he'd raked a hand through it a dozen times, and his clothes were stained with grass, dirt, and blood.

  "Thank you," Rafael said. "I appreciate all your help today, especially given your hostile reception and the fact you have absolutely no real reason to be here.

  Amr shrugged. "I have plenty of reason to be here. Whatever they say about us Mordred, we always have and always will put the dragons first, same as the rest of the clans. As to my hostile reception, well, it's not as though I behaved any better. Given that I am nearly forty, my behavior was even more inexcusable than his. I have not lost my temper that quickly in more years than I care to count."

  Rafael laughed. "My early impression of Ken is that his temper is contagious."

  "Indeed," Amr said, staring gloomily at the house. "I think someone that strong will always affect those around him, even if he's holding still and saying nothing."

  "I can't imagine how else he would have survived," Rafael said quietly, thinking of everything that Blaze had told them after Ken had stor
med off.

  He remembered the fall of the Marlowe Syndicate sixteen years ago, and the wild stories that had flown around about how it had happened—the stories of a mere child controlling a mythical dragon and winning every single fight thrown at them. Rafael remembered he'd dismissed the rumors like so many others, because the tales were too wild to take seriously. But mostly, he hadn't paid as much attention as he normally would have because he'd just met a very powerful distraction.

  Sixteen years ago was when he'd first met Marianne at one of the many charity functions St. George hosted as Leo's date. A couple of years later she'd become Leo's wife. She'd been beautiful, which Leo liked. She'd also been rich and well-connected, which Leo loved. And she'd been in a bad situation where Leo was the least of all evils, which Leo had fucking adored.

  No matter how many years passed, Rafael would always remember the way she smelled like sunshine and lilacs, the way she'd tasted like crème brûlée when he'd stolen a kiss in the coatroom that first night. Her skin had been the softest thing he'd ever felt, and for all that she was sweet and self-contained, she wasn't even remotely shy. Rafael had fallen hard and fast, and it was the greatest wonder to him that she fell with him. He'd only been eighteen, but had already felt much older. Marianne had been twenty.

  They'd met several times over the years at that hotel where they'd first met. Occasionally they'd met other places, but mostly they kept to that hotel because the staff would lie for them, even to Leo. Stupid, so stupid, to succumb to temptation time and again, but Marianne was ... well, Marianne. The only one who equaled her was Conway, whom he'd met three years after meeting Marianne. With Marianne on his arm and Conway at his side, Rafael's life had been as close to perfect as it was possible to get. He'd always known it wouldn't last, of course. How could it? Men like him didn't get that kind of life for long, if they were lucky enough to get it at all.

  Rafael wished to god he could forget the fear on her face whenever she looked at Leo and he wasn't watching her, all the years they were married. He wished he'd ignored her wishes and just taken her away somewhere. But for both of them, the dragons had always come first. Rafael really wished he could forget the expression of terror frozen on her face when he had found her behind that same hotel eleven years later with a bullet in her forehead. It hadn't been long past her thirty-first birthday.