Sword of the King

by Megan Derr

  "Hi," he said to the guy at the desk, smiling brightly. "I'm a friend of Blaze's—"

  "Of course, Mr. Cross. Blaze called us," the man said, and slid a spare key across the desk. "Please let us know if there's anything you need. You've been cleared for the garage, you should have no problems."

  Ken nodded. "Thanks." Returning to the car, he drove to the garage. He glared in disgust at his still-unconscious passengers. "Ridiculous." Gripping Amr's shoulder, Ken gently shook him awake. Brilliant gold eyes blinked at him, and Ken realized he was staring. "Uh. Come on, man. You'll sleep better in a bed. Can you make it up on your own? Cause I'm not carrying your Mordred ass."

  Amr rolled his eyes, and then climbed stiffly from the car. In the back seat, both of the dragons growled, and climbed out as Ken opened the door for them. He didn't bother telling them to shift to human form; it would probably drain whatever energy they had left.

  Halfway to the elevator, Amr stumbled. Ken lunged, barely catching him before he hit the ground. "You're a fucking dumbass," he said, dragging Amr's arm across his shoulders, sliding his own around Amr's waist. "Come on, Mordred."

  "One of these days, you're going to have to use my name," Amr said as he slumped against the back of the elevator.

  Ken snorted and punched the button for the floor they needed. "Don't count on it. Not like you'll see me after another day or so, after I know you can walk without falling on your face and your people get here."

  "You're leaving?" Amr asked, sounding confused.

  "I'm staying?" Ken countered, equally baffled. Amr looked at him through his long lashes, and Ken couldn't for the life of him figure out why the fuck he noticed Amr's lashes. Who the fuck cared about that kind of thing? "What the hell are you talking about?"

  Amr's eyes fell shut again, dusky skin washed out from strain and exhaustion. "We'll discuss it later, brat."

  "Shut up," Ken muttered, barely biting back a sigh of relief as the elevator finally stopped and dinged open. He hated being alone with Amr; it made him twitchy and nervous. What the hell Blaze saw in him, Ken would never know.

  He ignored Amr's grousing and helped him down the hallway and into Blaze's apartment. Ken was completely unsurprised to see the place had about as much personality as a motel room. "Come along, Princess. We'll put you to bed."

  Amr pulled away and gave him a weak shove. "You really need that spanking."

  "You clearly need to be punched in the face again," Ken retorted, too tired to put all his usual heat behind the words. "Stop being bitchier than usual." Ignoring Amr's continued protests, Ken hauled him down the hall to the bedroom and pushed him down onto the bed. "Get undressed, Highness, unless you want to sleep in those clothes. I'm not undressing you, my servitude stops there."

  To his surprise and confusion, Amr just laughed as he began to slowly strip off his suit. By the time he removed his blaze, tie, and vest, he looked exhausted. Ken swore softly and bent to work on his shirt, slowly undoing the buttons. He pushed the shirt off Amr's shoulders, acutely—annoyingly—aware of the way he smelled, warm and male with a hint of sandalwood and metal.

  Kneeling, he pulled off Amr's shoes and threw them aside. Standing again, moving back, he said, "Get in bed, Princess."

  "You're going to pay for calling me that," Amr said, but he was nearly asleep before he finished the sentence. Ken rolled his eyes and walked back over to the bed, tugging the blankets out from under Amr and pulling them up over him. Rolling his eyes, he flicked the light out as he left and wandered down the hall to the living room.

  Cam and Nev were fast asleep in the middle of the living room floor, curled together, tails coiled around each other. Ken yawned, eyes watering, as he went to make certain everything was locked up.

  He stood in the living room for a moment, feeling momentarily lost. Rick hadn't called or texted once, which had his gut in knots over what might have happened when they went to stall the clan officials. But Rick and his brothers could handle themselves, and they'd made an art of defying the clans.

  Sighing, he deposited his gun and phone on the coffee table, then stripped down to his jeans and flopped down on the couch. He shivered and looked around the room, rolling his eyes when he found an afghan right on the back of the couch. Pulling it down, he draped it over himself and almost immediately fell asleep.

  He was jerked awake some time later by someone grabbing him by the hair and yanking him up. Ken swore and reached up, calling, "Nev!" The man who grabbed him threw him to the floor and placed a booted foot on his back. Another boot put pressure on his right hand, not quite to the point of pain. Ken craned his neck to look up, scowling at the silver eyes that stared down at him. "Where the fuck is my father?"

  "Lord Richard and his brothers have been detained," the man said, then looked at men Ken could hear but not see. "Where is the Pendragon?"

  "Not sure, my lord. No dragons are in the apartment."

  The man looked annoyed. "Where are they, then?"

  "We're figuring it out, my lord."

  "Do it faster."

  Ken sneered, hiding his own flare of panic. What the fuck was Nev doing that he wasn't in the apartment?

  "The Mordred isn't here either," another voice said. "We've searched the premises, and the men sweeping the building haven't found them anywhere either. I think the Mordred took the dragons and ran."

  No. No, no, and also no. Amr was an annoying fuckhead but he wouldn't just leave Ken and take Nev. No owner would do that to another.

  Then again, that was exactly what the assholes before him were doing.

  "Where did they go?" the primary asshole demanded.

  Ken looked back up at him and replied, "Go fuck yourself." He hissed in pain as the man pinning his hand put more of his weight on it, but did not speak.

  "You're defending a Mordred," Primary Asshole said. Ken looked more carefully at him, but only the silver eyes told him anything: that the man was a Knight of the Round Table, one of the inner circle. Like Ken, he was naturally immune to the dominating presence of the Holy Pendragon. The silver eyes came when he was sworn to the inner circle, the Round Table. "If you had brought us the Pendragon as you were told, we might have permitted you to formally join a clan. But now, I am afraid you will be exiled entirely."

  The words were a knife, twisting sharp and deep in his chest, but Ken had sealed his fate when he'd chosen to stay and protect Amr and the others. Mordred he might be, but Amr had bonded with Cam. Even the curse that blackened his eyes had not stopped him bonding; that bond trumped everything.

  Ken couldn't be sorry for choosing to defend Amr, even if it meant he officially had nowhere to go. "Rick adopted me—"

  "And Cross is throwing you out and banning him from going anywhere near you. That is what it means to be a true exile. You have caused Cross enough harm."

  "I own a knight dragon," Ken said. "Not just anyone can do that. I did my duty. I went to find and protect the Pendragon. I had no idea a Mordred would show up, and no one could have anticipated that he would bond with a Holy Pendragon. I protected the prince and the dragon; that was the right thing to do."

  The man sneered, silver eyes glowing faintly as he knelt and fisted a hand in Ken's hair, pulling his head up to a painful angle. "The right thing to do was as you were told. Somebody so disobedient is not fit for the clans, even if you were not a mongrel given an errant knight dragon by dumb luck. Do you really think that dragon would have chosen you if better options had been available? I think you will find that if we kill you, we'll have no trouble re-bonding your dragon."

  "No!" Ken snarled, trying to jerk free, grunting in pain as the silver-eyed asshole twisted his head to the side, the other two men bearing down on his back and his hand.

  But the physical pains were nothing against the confirmation of his greatest fear: that Nev was devoted to him only because there'd been no better options when he was turned. If he had never been lost, if he'd been raised properly amongst the clans ... Nev would have chosen a real
owner.

  Goddamn it, didn't anybody really and truly want him? The fight went out of Ken and, seeming to sense it, the men all let him go. The guy with a foot on his back knelt and smoothly cuffed Ken's hands, then hauled him to his feet. "You're coming with us."

  "Thanks for clearing that up, because I totally thought the cuffs were because you were letting me go," Ken said, swearing as the silver-eyed bastard backhanded him hard. "Fuck you."

  "We don't necessarily need you awake," the man said again. "You only need to be alive for your dragon to find us, and even killing you might actually be enough to find him, so shut up."

  Ken shut up, and settled for glaring at them. The asshole playfully slapped his cheek. "Don't worry, soon you won't have to worry about anything. We just—" he broke off, all of them jumping as the front door burst open, shattering into pieces, and a snarling Nev launched himself at them.

  Three dragons appeared from the bedroom, making Ken wonder why they'd been hiding back there, and launched themselves at Nev. Roaring, Nev threw himself at them, his tail putting a hole in one wall as it swung and missed one of the dragons. He bellowed again as one dragon clamped jaws on his shoulder and another his tail.

  "Get off him!" Ken snarled. "Nev—" He swore and crumpled as someone smashed a fist into his jaw. "Nev!"

  A flash of gold joined the fray, adding more holes to the walls, knocking over furniture, as five dragons fought from a narrow hallway and into the living room. Cam roared, Nev matching it, as they drove the dragons back to the bedroom. One of the dragons was limping, and another swayed unsteadily, half its face badly clawed, leaving it blind in one eye.

  Several minutes later, the sounds of fighting finally ceased. Ken waited, tense and afraid, as they heard dragons shuffling down the hall. He fell to his knees as Nev limped toward him, bending over to rest his head against Nev's as he collapsed in Ken's lap. "Good dragon," he said.

  Cam growled as he stopped at the edge of the living room, amber eyes glowing brilliantly as he stared at the men still surrounding Ken and Nev. Three fell to their knees, heads bowed; only the silver-eyed man remained unaffected. "Holy Pendragon," he said. "Where is the Mordred—"

  "My name is Amr Medraut, I would appreciate it if someone would use it," Amr said from the front door, causing the men to jerk toward him, though they immediately went still again when Cam growled at them in warning.

  Still growling, Cam padded over to Amr, bumping against his hand and rumbling when Amr gave the demanded petting. Curling around him, rubbing and nuzzling, Cam then stepped forward to stand in front of him protectively.

  Amr regarded the silver-eyed man. "You must be the American representative of Clan Pendragon, unless you're just hiding the accent."

  "American," the man replied stiffly. "My name is Arley. You're the Mordred."

  "My name is Amr, and if you cannot handle that, then you may address me as 'your Highness' since, like it or not, my owning a Pendragon accords me that status. Uncuff my Steward."

  Ken jerked upright at the words, frowning at Amr in confusion.

  "Steward?" Arley demanded. "He's just a fucking—"

  "He bears Lancelot's Blessing, the same as you," Amr interrupted. "Unhand him or Cam will be more than happy to tear out your throats. Your dragons aren't dead yet, but that can change. Release him."

  Arley swore, but took the handcuff keys from the man who had the and freed Ken. The moment he was loose, Ken swung, slamming his fist into Arley's jaw. "Fuck you." Rubbing his wrists, grimacing at his split knuckles, he strode over to join Amr. Nev limped over more slowly, but stood with Cam, facing off against the rest of the room.

  Looking up at Amr, Ken asked, "What in the fuck are you babbling about?"

  "Later," Amr murmured. Ken wanted to punch him too: for wandering off, for taking Nev with him, and for looking so fucking put together and perfect while Ken was still dressed in only his jeans. He had more bruises than clothing, while he could barely tell Amr had gotten his ass kicked a couple days ago. Addressing Arley and the others, he said, "You can tell the clans that Clan Mordred has no interest in returning the Holy Pendragon. When and if the clans want to play fairly, we will be willing to listen. Now, we are leaving. You will remain here until we are gone, and you will not cause us any further trouble."

  Arley glared hatefully, but did not argue, merely stalked off to attend the dragons.

  Ken followed Amr downstairs, and outside to where a limousine waited. "What the fuck have you been doing all morning?" he asked.

  "Sorting out my new territory and speaking with my clan," Amr said. "You've been sleeping pretty hard for a while."

  "You should still be sleeping," Ken said, sliding into the car, resting a hand lightly on Nev as he settled on the seat with his head in Ken's lap. "So what's going on, other than the obvious?"

  "About fifteen members of my clan will be here tomorrow morning, five of them part of the council. We are still trying to figure out why the curse broke in me, though the current theory is that a Pendragon is beyond the curse. I was hoping it meant the curse had broken entirely, but my people still have black eyes." He looked out the window, idly petting Cam who rumbled happily with his head in Amr's lap. "I've taken over Rust's lodgings for the present, unless you've some strenuous objection."

  Ken shrugged, feeling irritable for no reason he could name. "Why should I care where the hell you live?"

  "You'll be living with me," Amr said. "I prefer to have my Steward to hand at all times."

  "I'm not your fucking Steward," Ken said, swallowing, staring out the window. "Why the hell did you take my dragon with you?"

  Amr's voice was idle, but Ken could hear the underlying amusement in it. "He was hungry and bored, so I took him out. He and Cam had fun, and he's helping Cam settle more. You are my Steward."

  "Being a Steward requires being Clan," Ken said flatly. "I'm not even permitted to be Cross—" He broke off, swearing as he realized he didn't have his phone. He barely had fucking clothes. "Goddamn it!"

  "What's wrong?"

  "I need my phone. That asshole said my dad was 'detained' and I want to make sure he's okay."

  "Your father is fine, as are his brothers," Amr said. "My people will be bringing them when they arrive tomorrow. As to being Clan ... " He trailed off as the car stopped in front of a skyscraper.

  Ken followed Nev out of the car, shivering. "I would really like some fucking clothes."

  "That can be arranged," Amr said, and Ken jumped as Amr's fingers lightly touched the small of his back. Jerking away, Ken strode into the building, Nev at his heels.

  He ignored the guards and stragglers giving him looks and just kept on a straight course for the elevators. Amr joined him a moment later and hit the button for the elevator. When they stepped inside, he drew out a key and slotted it into the keyhole below all the floor buttons. Turning it, he hit the button for the fortieth floor. "I woke up early in the morning, and went out to start claiming the area. After the warehouse, no one has really felt like challenging me. I think there are a few who will eventually be a problem, but not today."

  "So you're just taking over the Rust Syndicate and ... what? Claiming it as new territory for Clan Mordred?"

  "Yes," Amr said, mouth curving in a smirk. "What do you think the clans will say to that?"

  Ken snorted, fighting a stupid urge to smirk with him. "I think you're a cocky son of a bitch and you'd better not accuse me of recklessness unless you want your smug face broken. Clothes?"

  "This way," Amr said, and led him through a living room that looked like it fell out of some men's magazine. He pushed open the door to a bedroom, and Ken brushed by him as he entered.

  Amr still smelled like that ridiculous sandalwood cologne, and it drove Ken crazy when he could not remember when he had been anything other than irritated by cologne. The bedroom was sparse, except that it had all his belongings from his car—including, thank god, his clothes and spare weapons.

  Shucking his jeans and boxer
s, he quickly dug clean clothes out of a bag and pulled them on. What he wanted was a damn shower, but it would have to wait until everything settled down. Grabbing his toiletries bag, he headed into the bathroom and brushed his teeth, made a futile attempt to tame his stupid hair.

  Back in the bedroom, he scowled to see Amr was still standing right where Ken had left him. "Can I help you with something?"

  Amr smirked, gold eyes intent. "Yes, several things. Come along."

  He vanished, and Ken drew a sharp breath, wondering when exactly he had stopped breathing. Seriously, he was going to shoot the asshole. Picking up his hip holster, he buckled it on, then slid his Glock into place and returned to the living room.

  The smell of coffee distracted him, and he froze as Amr walked toward him offering a cup. "Uh. Thanks. So what the hell are we doing today besides get the house all pretty for your relatives?"

  Amr laughed. "We're going to gather and assess the dragons. You'll have a better eye for that; I was only ever on the fringes of the pits, training for a few years before I was called home."

  Ken nodded. "Speaking of dragons, where did the lizards go?"

  "There's a hot tub on the patio," Amr said dryly, lazily tilting his head to the sliding doors off the kitchen area.

  Rolling his eyes, Ken took several sips of coffee, then said, "You're sure my dad is okay?"

  "He's fine. I sent someone to the apartment to retrieve your phone. Now, that is all the immediate concerns covered. Back to the way you are avoiding the discussion of being my Steward."

  Ken stepped away, turned toward the floor-to-ceiling windows on the opposite side of the living room. "There's nothing to discuss. I'm not your Steward. Why the fuck would you want me to be?"

  "Why don't you want to be?" Amr countered, standing close enough behind him that Ken could all but feel him. He scowled at Amr's reflection in the glass. "You'd be good at it, your recklessness notwithstanding."

  "I will punch you," Ken replied, sipping his coffee and then setting it aside on a small table nearby, because he knew wherever the conversation was headed, he was going to drop it or throw it. "You know damn good and well I will."