The Princess Knight

by G. A. Aiken

  Wassa grimaced a bit. “Sure that’s a good idea?”

  “No, but you’ll be coming with us. So if it’s a mistake, you’ll be there to experience it with me.” She gave them a smile that she could tell neither liked, which she completely understood.

  “Samuel!” she called out again. “Bring me my saddle. I want to see how it looks on Kriegszorn.”

  * * *

  Keeley and her army rode out three hours before dawn. Gemma’s team rode with them, each member discreetly splitting off from the main force when each person could do so without being noticed. They rode through a nearby forest until they could regroup behind a hill line without being seen.

  As planned, Gemma’s team was made up of the two priests, Balla and her assistant, the two remaining witches—who seemed grateful no one appeared to be holding Adela’s actions against them—the divine assassins, the Abbess, and Quinn himself.

  And, to the great annoyance of absolutely everyone . . . the truce vicar. He’d insisted.

  “I will be of great benefit to you! I promise!”

  No one truly believed him, but they decided not to argue the point. Besides, the vicar had earned a bit of respect as the one who’d put the blade into Adela’s back.

  The vicar managed to earn even more respect after their third day of hard riding, when all any of them wanted was some food and a good night’s sleep. That evening they passed a city known for its great library. None of them had much interest in going into that library, great or not. But the vicar insisted they ride toward it. So they did.

  When the library came into sight, Quinn was surprised that Cyrus hadn’t already burned it down. It resembled a church. A church dedicated to books.

  They rode past it, though, until they reached a very large house behind the library.

  They dismounted from their horses and handed them off to the stable hands, then followed the vicar to the front door. He briefly spoke to a servant, and a few minutes later another man came to the door. As soon as the two men saw each other, they began hugging and speaking so loudly that Quinn knew immediately this was another vicar.

  “Ferdinand, my good friend! I am so glad to see you!”

  “And you, Gregorio! You look so well!”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Any chance my friends and I can spend the night?”

  “Of course! Of course! Come in! All of you!”

  Without question or complaint, Vicar Gregorio invited them all inside his home.

  “What an interesting group you have with you, my old friend. Divine assassins, war priests, a war monk, a nun, temple virgins, and even witches! The holy and the unholy all mixing together! You will make our fellow brethren proud when they hear about this.”

  “Oh, thank you, my friend!”

  “Oy! Oy! Oy!” Gemma finally snapped, clapping her hands together. “I appreciate the meeting of the vicars. But I’m tired, hungry, and thirsty. So if you’re not in the mood to help us out, I am more than happy to go to the pub we passed on the way here.”

  Vicar Gregorio smiled widely at Vicar Ferdinand. “War monks are the absolute worst, aren’t they?” He crowed. “I forgot how much I love that!”

  “I know. They really are! I’ve been with a whole army of them the past few days and they are miserable bastards. But how can you not love them for their miserable ways?”

  “Well, come on, you lot,” Gregorio said, motioning them deeper into the house. When he reached a set of stairs, they found a large staff patiently waiting for them. “My servants will be more than happy to help all of you. Even the rude and unholy ones!”

  “By the gods,” Gemma muttered to Quinn, “if I wasn’t so hungry, I’d burn this fucking house down.”

  “See? Just like the vicar said,” Quinn joked. “Rude.”

  * * *

  After taking a hot bath and changing into a fresh set of plain white leggings and a white cotton shirt, Gemma was ready for some sleep but she still hadn’t eaten. She dreaded the idea of sitting through dinner with her travel companions. She remembered the first night they’d set out together and how they’d almost come to blows. But she was so very hungry, she decided to just put up with the insults.

  Gemma headed down the stairs where she was met by a servant who happily led her to the dining room. Why were the servants all so happy? she wondered. She didn’t think she’d be happy as a servant. True, she was the servant of a god, but that was different. To be the servant of an actual human being . . . She’d do her job to the best of her ability to put food on the table and take care of her family, but she doubted that she’d do it with a smile.

  They reached the dining room and Gemma paused outside when she heard laughter coming from her companions instead of the usual insults concerning unholiness, abominations, and whor-ishness.

  Taking a step inside, Gemma was greeted with cheers that almost had her turning around and walking back out.

  “Is everything okay?” she asked, sitting down in a chair next to Quinn.

  “Excellent wine,” Quinn said. “That they’ve all been enjoying.”

  Gemma studied the glass carafes of wine across the table. Her eyes narrowed a bit and she immediately covered her chalice when another servant offered her some.

  “You should try some,” Father Aubin urged. “It’s the best I’ve had in a long while.”

  Remembering her night of dwarven wine excess, Gemma shook her head and said, “No, thank you, Father. And don’t anyone forget that we ride early tomorrow. So don’t get too . . .” She sighed and said to Quinn, “No one is listening to me, are they?”

  “They are not.”

  Gemma glanced around the table. “Where are the vicars?”

  “At the library.”

  “What?”

  “That’s what they said. Vicar Gregorio has the keys, so they packed up some food and off they went.”

  Gemma leaned back in her chair and watched as the servants continued to fill her companions’ wineglasses. No food was on the table except loaves of warm bread. And the two vicars never seemed to return. And all the while her companions—except for Quinn, of course—seemed to get more and more unaware of their surroundings and out of control.

  “Where’s the kitchen?” she finally asked Quinn.

  He lifted his head, sniffed the air, and pointed.

  “I’ll be back.”

  * * *

  Quinn watched Gemma slip out of the dining room.

  “You don’t hide your feelings very well, centaur.”

  Balla sat at his right, a chalice of half-drunk wine in her hand and a rather adorable half-drunken smile on her face.

  “Maybe you should have some bread.”

  “You wouldn’t believe how many people who come to our temple want to consult about love. The fact that we’re virgins . . . they don’t care. They still want us to fix their shitty relationships for them.”

  Quinn let out a startled laugh. “Balla.”

  “Don’t get me wrong. It brings in a lot of gold, which we all appreciate. But the majority of those relationships are doomed. Still, I’ve seen enough to know . . .”

  “What?”

  “You two . . .” She giggled and sipped more wine.

  “Us two what?”

  “You’re meant for each other.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “Let’s see. How do I put this?” She looked off a moment before hitting him with “Both of you are too annoying to be with anyone else.” She quickly put her hand on his forearm. “But I mean that in the best way possible!”

  “How could you seriously mean that in the best way possible?”

  Before the priestess could reply, Quinn heard the front door open, then a hysterical scream from the kitchen. He was reaching for the dagger he had tucked into his boot when he saw that all his traveling companions were not as drunk as he’d first thought. Those with weapons already had them out, those who used magicks were already in their combat stances. The truc
e vicars rushed into the room, carrying multiple scrolls under their arms.

  “What’s happening?” Gregorio asked, his eyes wide and his face red from worry. “Is everyone all right?”

  Gemma returned from the kitchen. She placed a large cooking knife down on the table and announced, “In case anyone was wondering. . . no one is poisoning the food. Or wine. If anyone sees any red flakes in the stew, it’s simply red pepper.” She caught sight of the vicars. “Oh. You two are back.” She motioned to the scrolls. “And those are . . . ?”

  “Ancient maps of the Old—”

  “King’s castle,” she finished, wincing. “So, you didn’t leave because of a double cross involving your vicar brother here?”

  Ferdinand’s mouth briefly fell open on a gasp. “Of course not!”

  “Okay. I’m going to bed now. I’ll see all of you in the morning.” She reached across the table and grabbed several loaves of bread before quietly exiting the room.

  When they all heard a door close on the floor above, all gazes turned to Quinn.

  “Why are you all looking at me?” he asked.

  Father Aubin snorted. “You know why.”

  * * *

  Gemma didn’t answer when she heard the knock on the door, but she wasn’t surprised when Quinn came in anyway. She knew he would.

  She didn’t see him, though. She was under the blanket at the moment. Hiding from the horrifying reality of having threatened the kitchen staff with their own cutlery.

  “I got you something to eat,” he said. “But I spooned it into the bowls myself to make sure no one spit into it. Or anything else.”

  Gemma buried her face in her hands. “I can’t believe I did that. What was I thinking?”

  “You were exhausted and you’re not used to seeing people who normally despise each other getting along.”

  “I’ve become my uncle Archie.”

  “No. You haven’t.” She felt the bed move as the centaur sat down next to her and pulled the blanket off her head. “You don’t have the engineering skills to be your uncle Archie.”

  “Thanks.”

  He brushed her hair off her face.

  “I know. I need to cut it. It’s too long.”

  “Anything else you’d like to point out that’s wrong with you? Perhaps that freckle on your chin? Or the way you hold your shield?”

  “What’s wrong with the way I hold my shield?”

  “Well, at least you continue to have strong confidence in your battle skills.”

  Gemma curled into a ball and fell onto her side. “I can’t believe I attacked those poor people in their own kitchen. I’m so ashamed.”

  “Don’t be. You were looking out for us. That’s your job.”

  “They’re probably all laughing at me.”

  “Yeah. Mostly.”

  Gemma threw up her hands. “Thank you! Thank you very much!”

  “Do you know why?” he went on, ignoring her tone. “Because they can. You allow them to laugh and drink and eat in comfort and safety because you made sure they were safe. Because you made sure the servants are too terrified to poison their food or drink. These humans need people like you . . . and your uncle Archie.” He thought a moment. “And my dad.”

  Quinn shook his head. “Forget that part. I can’t think about that right now. So what I’m saying is don’t feel bad. You were looking out for everyone. That’s your job and you did it well. I’m just grateful it was you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You found out everything was fine and you put the knife down and everything was over.”

  “As opposed to . . . ?”

  “If it had been, for instance, Ragna.”

  “Ohhh.” Gemma’s entire face cringed and together they said, “Bloodbath.”

  Finally, Gemma laughed and Quinn joined her.

  “See?” he said. “It could have been so much worse.”

  * * *

  “Are you wearing leggings?” Gemma asked, finally noticing what was on the centaur’s legs.

  “I am. They didn’t have a kilt and the servants took my clothes to clean them.”

  He stood up and stared down at his long legs. “How do you live in these? I feel trapped. I just want to tear them off and start kicking.”

  “It’s not that bad.”

  “It is! My legs need to be free. Even these puny human ones.”

  “If you’re that uncomfortable, take them off.”

  Quinn snorted, sounding more like a horse than he ever had before. “That wouldn’t be fair to you.”

  “Why not?”

  “Seeing me unencumbered? You wouldn’t be able to resist.”

  “Resist what?”

  “Me in all my magnificent human glory.”

  “By Morthwyl’s mighty sword, just take them off and get over yourself.”

  “All right. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Feeling much better, Gemma moved to the far side of her bed, close to the end table where Quinn had placed her food tray. She picked up a bowl of stew and a spoon and had just scooped up a mouthful when she looked over to see Quinn standing there with his arms crossed over his chest, wearing only the white shirt he’d been given. The white shirt was long but his cock still extended past it. She nearly choked on the food she’d just swallowed at the sight of him.

  “Told you.”

  She put her bowl back on the tray and wiped her mouth with a linen cloth.

  With her throat clear, she finally got out, “Shut up.”

  “Should I put the leggings back on?”

  “We’re all adults.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “That we’re all adults . . . with needs.”

  Quinn smirked. “Sober needs?”

  “Very sober, responsible needs.”

  “You might get attached,” he warned.

  “I am a war monk. I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to do. Except praise my god and kill on command.”

  Quinn slowly made his way across the room. “I don’t know. We’re surrounded by religious types. They may not like to hear us taking care of... our needs.”

  “Then we’ll have to be very quiet.”

  “Sure you can be?”

  “It’ll be a challenge. But I love a challenge.”

  Quinn grinned, pulled off his shirt. “So do I.”

  * * *

  Quinn scrambled across the bed. He didn’t mean to. He meant to move with a little more care and deliberation but he realized too late he was beyond all that. He realized too late he’d been waiting for this for quite a while. Waiting to have Gemma in his arms.

  By the time he reached her, she was already naked, having tossed her own clothes off. He was grateful. He didn’t want to waste time taking her clothes off for her. He knew humans liked that sort of thing. But he just liked being naked. He liked the feeling of skin against skin. Just the feel of her scars against his was so intense, his cock got hard immediately.

  Even better was Gemma’s response to him. Her arms went around him right away and her lips sought his. It took him a second to realize this was their first kiss, but as soon their lips touched and mouths parted, it felt as if they’d been connected like this forever.

  He pulled Gemma closer, hiking her up higher so she could wrap her legs around his waist. While she kept herself there, his hands were free to roam. Using his thumbs and forefingers to tease her nipples until she was gasping. Then sliding his hands down her body until he could ease his fingers inside her, finding her already hot and slippery, hips grinding, pushing.

  She pulled out of their kiss so she could nip at his neck and ear; drag her fingers down his back.

  Needing to be inside her, Quinn pushed her back a bit and pressed his cock against her. Then Quinn waited. He waited for her.

  * * *

  He’d stopped. Why had he stopped? Did he think she had time for him to stop? Was he playing games with her
?

  Not in the mood for any of that, Gemma locked her ankles behind Quinn’s back and brought her hips forward hard.

  They both gasped in shock, gazing into each other’s wide eyes. Both panting. Both of them trying to control their sounds. They didn’t want to alert the entire house to what they were doing. It was bad enough having the temple virgins still avoiding physical contact with her. If they actually heard her having sex . . . With a centaur, no less!

  Gemma brushed that thought from her mind. She had more important things buried deep inside her at the moment. And if she was going to get through this with her sanity intact, she really had to focus.

  She let out a breath to help relax her muscles and smoothed her hands against Quinn’s shoulders. He leaned in and brushed his lips against her throat. That felt . . . so good. But then he moved his hands back to her breasts, again toying with them. Especially her nipples. Her nipples had never been especially sensitive but the way Quinn played with them . . .

  Gemma’s eyes crossed and she buried her hands in his hair.

  To be honest, at this point, she really wasn’t paying attention to what she was doing. She was just doing her best to keep quiet. So she pressed her mouth against his lower neck and dug her fingers deeper into his scalp. She was pretty sure it was the scalp thing that got to him. She should have left his hair alone, but she didn’t.

  Because the next thing she knew, she was flat on her back and he was buried hilt-deep inside her.

  She didn’t care, though. It felt so good. It had been quite a while since she’d had sex, much less a good solid fuck; she was more than ready for what Quinn was about to do. So instead of pulling her fingers from his scalp and putting her hands back on his shoulders in the soothing manner that seemed to calm him down, she just dug in deeper.

  His mouth covered hers, his tongue sliding inside. Then he was fucking her. Gemma unlocked her ankles from around his waist and opened her legs wider. She pulled his head closer, returned his kiss harder. Their hips met, thrust for thrust. Each taking the other, harder and harder, showing no mercy until Gemma felt Quinn’s hand slip between them and press against her, one finger moving around her clit until she began to shake and his entire body tensed on top of hers.