by Auryn Hadley
She'd never thought about it. "I didn't have guards back then. I was just the younger sister waiting to make a profitable marriage, remember?"
"And yet you could have been killed." He gestured to the door, and the pair of them headed into the halls, making their way to the practice grounds.
"Still don't know why he didn't just kill me."
Tristan let out a heavy breath. "It's not easy, pup. Killing a man? That's bad enough. Killing a woman? I had ninety-one wins when I did it and still spent the day purging my soul into a chamber pot."
"And you think Palino would care?" She touched his arm gently, proving she understood how he felt.
"I think he wouldn't want anyone to see him puking over a silly girl." He shrugged. "Doesn't mean he couldn't find a man who would. Ley, your father left me in charge of keeping you safe. I don't care what is normally done. I care that the Wolf of Oberhame stays alive long enough to become the Queen of Oberhame."
"Ok..." She stepped through the last door and into sunlight. "So how are you finding these men?"
He kept moving toward the same place they'd sparred the day before. "Asked the Captain of Ilario's guard to spread the word last night. Your father says I have to hire men from the Royal guards, but he didn't say who." As they rounded the corner, he tipped his head to the sandy area behind the stable where uniformed soldiers were clustering. "So I made it known that anyone who can defeat me has a chance."
Leyli dragged one hand down her face. "Tristan, these men aren't taught to fight solo. If they aren't working as a unit - "
"I know," he said, cutting her off. Then he paused, dropping his voice. "I also don't care if they really win. I just want to know how desperate they are."
Suddenly, she understood. "You want to see their eyes."
"Exactly." He tapped her nose, then began moving again. "I want to know if your life is worth more than theirs."
"It shouldn't be," she grumbled under her breath.
He didn't bother looking at her. "It is to me."
She wanted to protest, but couldn't. If their roles were reversed, Leyli would feel the same. She already did, even if she couldn't do anything about it. Tristan meant everything to her. He was her only true friend and the one person she couldn't imagine living without. Unfortunately, a real guard would mean less privacy, and that meant less time alone with him. She refused to admit why, but she hated the idea of losing those few precious moments locked away with her partner.
This time, the pair cut through the stables. Dozens of horses were munching at their hay, a few leaning over the wooden half-doors to knicker at the humans, hoping for more grain. Tristan slowed, a wistful smile tugging at the corner of his lip. He'd gone into debt to be a blacksmith, but he'd never touched a horse. From the look on his face, Leyli knew he wanted to, but his pride would never let him ask.
Wrapping her fingers around his wrist, she pulled him to the side. "I haven't gotten to show you Dafin!" He was the closest horse she recognized. "I haven't ridden him since..."
"Since you became a gladiator?" He tossed her an understanding look, then reached up for the horse's face.
"Yeah." She'd been going to say since her brother died. His version was better.
As Tristan's hands slid over the sleek fur, his expression grew soft. Over and over, like he was hypnotized, the massive man stroked the gelding with such tenderness. Leyli had always taken the animals for granted. Her dad bought her plenty of horses. The stable master bred more. She'd never thought anything of it, but seeing him, she realized just how pampered she was. She lived on the best wine, food that was meant to shock and awe, and wore nightgowns finer than many commoners' wedding dresses.
Yet her best friend had never touched a horse before. He'd never expected to see inside the palace. He'd planned to spend his life making nails and brackets just to pay the bills, but when she'd met him, Tristan had been a king. He'd fought his way to the top, carved out his place as a gladiator, then dared to take a chance on a terrified little girl. The least she could do was make sure he never regretted it.
"Tristan?" she asked softly. "One day, do you think we can ride through the orchard?"
"You gonna teach me how to stay on one of these?" His eyes never left the horse.
"Promise. Maybe we'll start this evening."
"Then yeah, we'll ride in the orchard, and you can even laugh at me." He turned to her with a smile. "Thanks, Ley. They're softer than I thought."
"Welcome. Means next time you get to show me something new."
He laughed and tugged her against him, steering her toward the far end of the barn. "Already did, or are you saying you killed a lot of men before me?"
"Um, like sixteen? Something like that."
He grumbled, but it was in jest. "How about kicking a man in the balls."
"Nope." She laughed and ducked away, scampering backwards just before him. "That's all you. They're kinda squishy."
"Like fucking rocks, pup. Nothing squishy about it. You just caught me in a weak spot." He surged after her.
She squealed and ran. "All squishy!"
The horses tossed their heads at the commotion, but Leyli didn't care. She rushed through the far door and slid around the corner, aiming for the training ground. Tristan was right behind her. Just when she thought she was safe - because of the dozens of Royal guards in sight - he caught up, wrenching her off the ground. She yelped, making men turn, but Tristan ignored them and hiked her against his hip, carrying her like a wayward puppy.
"You're supposed to stay in my sight, kid."
She kicked her feet behind her, trying to twist out of his hold. "You're supposed to keep up, cub!"
"Haven't beat me, yet."
"Hey!" She shoved against his waist, but he wouldn't let go. "Tristan!"
"Gonna be good?"
"Gonna kick you in the balls again," she grumbled. When he laughed, she tried another tactic. "I will! Put me down."
"What was that about my balls?" He was still walking toward the crowd, and they had to be able to hear.
Leyli felt her face growing warmer. "I won't! Put me down."
Finally, he gave in. Setting her feet on the ground, he refused to let go, waiting for her to look up. "How do you get free of that, Ley?"
"If I had a sword - "
He cut her off. "But you don't. So how do you get free?"
"Not a whole lot of people grabbing me, you know. They usually were dead before they got close enough."
His brow lifted. "Except the one who sold you into the games. Think about it, pup. Think about what you said and what you should do."
"Kick you in the balls?" His grin proved she was on the right track. Suddenly, she understood. "Hit you?"
The Lion nodded, but his smile hadn't slipped at all. "Yep. Right in the squishy parts. Pretty sure I'll drop you if you try."
Aware of how many ears were listening, she wrinkled her nose and made a face. "Eww."
"Better gross and alive, then waiting for me to haul your ass back out of the games." Then he dropped his voice. "I'd prefer you just trust me that it works, because the next time you break it, you will kiss it to make it better."
"Tristan!"
He laughed, then stepped away, heading to the soldiers watching in shock. "Listen up! I've been authorized to hire five men for the Princess's guard. Someone already managed to kill her brother. They managed to get into the center of the palace, and haul her out without anyone noticing." His eyes raked over the men before him. "That means all of you failed. What I'm looking for is someone who won't let it happen again. Am I clear?"
"Yes, sir!" they snapped in unison.
Tristan let his eyes close and took a deep breath. Leyli knew he hated to be called a sir because he didn't feel like he deserved it. That didn't make him right. The king had declared him the captain of the Heir's Guard and her Secor. There wasn't anything else these men could call him.
"Now line up. Each of you will get a chance to spar against me. After th
at, I'll let you prove you're worthy of the Heir's Guard."
Gesturing for her to get comfortable, he marched to a pile of wooden weapons and kicked at it. They clanked as the blades rolled over each other, but he found what he wanted. Long, heavy, and cumbersome, it was as close to the Flame of Oberhame as he could get. Tristan, evidently, planned to use this as a chance to practice. One day he might need to use the sword Ilario had given him, and this would serve well enough for his training.
Leyli claimed a soft spot beside the stable wall. It was out of the way and her back was covered. When Tristan looked over, he nodded. Then he gestured to the first man in line. Like a bull, the fool charged him, expecting this to be like every other training lesson the soldiers had been given. He just didn't realize that the Lion of Lenlochlien was still a gladiator at heart.
Tristan's foot met the man's ribs. The heavy wood thumped his back. The Secor didn't even wait for him to yield, just yanked his fumbling body aside to recover on his own and waved on the next. That man took a long breath before he approached more carefully.
Over and over it became variations of the same. These men were trained to fight as a group. On their own, they had no idea how to defend themselves. They flailed. They blocked. In the end, they stood no chance against a man who'd spent three years fighting for his life. No matter what tactics they used, Tristan made them all look like fools. Leyli wondered if they knew why.
Then a tall, lanky blonde stepped up. When the Lion nodded at him, the man nodded back but didn't move. He waited, changing the pace of the fight, then began to make a lap of the sandy sparring ground. When the arrogant bastard turned to smile at her, Tristan charged. The soldier swung. With both hands on the hilt of his sword, there was no grace to it. He just heaved the blade sideways like a club, crashing into the Secor's ribs.
Tristan grunted but didn't stop. The guard ducked, moving behind him and kicked. When that didn't work, he tried to swing again, but Tristan was ready. With a crash of wood, the blade fell to the ground but the man still wouldn't give up. He swung, driving his fist into the gladiator's jaw and got one in his gut as payment. When both men stumbled into the dirt, still throwing punches, Leyli surged to her feet.
"Hold!" she ordered.
The guard finally stopped. Leaning over him, with one fist clenched by his shoulder, Tristan froze, then nodded at the man before leaning back.
"What's your name?"
The guard groaned and tried to sit up. "Gregori, sir."
Dropping onto his rump beside him, Tristan offered his hand. Gregori clasped his wrist, trying to smile around a quickly swelling cheek. Leyli knew his little display was going to cost him, but the arrogant brat seemed to think it'd been worth it.
Until Tristan's next words. "That's gonna hurt. Go to the kitchens, tell them the Princess said to give you a bottle of real wine, then have a hot bath."
"Sir?" He sounded crushed.
But Tristan slapped his shoulder. "If your muscles get stiff, how the hell am I going to beat the shit out of you tomorrow? I want you out here after the noon meal."
"Can't sir. I'm on the gate."
Leyli stepped up. "Not any more. Tell your commanding officer you've been ordered to attend me."
"Because you just made it to the second round." Tristan heaved himself up then turned to the rest. "If any of you think guarding the Heir is going to be some vacation, ask Gregori. If you want to do this, it's going to hurt. I'll drive your ass into the ground until I'm sure no one will touch her. If anyone manages to get past you and so much as bruise her pretty skin, I'll hang your head from the Oberhame arena myself. Am I clear?"
"Yes, sir!"
"Now who wants to be next?" He hefted his blade and waited.
Chapter 5
Working his way through the spoiled children who called themselves guards was too easy. From the group of men, he managed to find exactly seventeen who had any chance of keeping his girl safe. When they met up the next day to try again, Tristan intended to slim that number down a bit. This time it didn't matter how much they wanted it. All that mattered was if they could do their damned job. He didn't need to like them. He didn't need to feel pity for them. He just needed them to die before anything happened to her.
But he wasn't going to tell her that. Leyli had her own ideas, and she wasn't always right. She wanted to make the world all happy and perfect. She thought that if she just tried harder, she could stop the wars, end poverty, and whatever else she was on about. It was naive, but kinda amazing at the same time. Even more so that he knew she'd find a way to make it happen. It also proved she was an Aravatti. Ilario was the same way, which was why the people loved him. In Tristan's opinion, Leyli was better. She knew what it felt like to be desperate.
As he explained the plans for the day, his eyes rested on her. Normally, Leyli wore loose breeches and a tunic for training. This time, she had on a dress. That had been his idea. Partly because she looked so damned good in it, but also because he needed to see how much it would hinder her. She didn't exactly get to run around the palace in trews, and he was pretty sure Palino wouldn't give her the chance to change. They only got to find their weaknesses in practice, and that's what this was. To him, at least.
So she'd picked out a common dress. It was still nicer than anything his sister had, but the cloth was linen, not silk or velvet. It also fit her a little too well. Back when he'd first seen her, she'd been so soft and graceful. Locked in that cell, he'd never forget how big her eyes had been as she watched him walk past. He also couldn't forget the way his breath had simply vanished. She'd been the most beautiful thing he could imagine. He'd thought he was seeing a goddess, come to collect his soul. Instead, he got a princess.
Tristan flicked his tongue over his upper lip to prevent a smile. The soldiers would notice. Hell, half the palace thought he'd already been between her legs. Not that he'd mind - not at all - but the memory of her crying over being ruined? Yeah. That kept his cock from swelling. He didn't know what had happened to her before they met, but he could guess. Things couldn't be that different for a woman in the games than a man, and he knew what he'd been forced to do.
The thought made him want to kill someone. If he ever found out that some bastard had touched her like that, he would hunt the fool down. He'd make sure the shit paid, then let Leyli kill him. If anyone had hurt his girl...
And he wouldn't hurt her, either. No matter how hard it was, he wouldn't take advantage of the trust she'd given him. At least he got to feel her head on his shoulder every night. Having her tiny little fingers tickle the back of his neck as she slept was enough. It would have to be, because it was all a man like him could get. That, and making sure her cousin paid for everything he'd done - over and over, until not even the gods could recognize him.
"Ok," he called out, pointing to the side. "Pair up. Warm up. Long sword, sword and shield, and pikes. I'll run you through them all."
The blonde from the first day, Gregori, decided to speak up. "We get to protect her Highness from you, this time?"
That's exactly what he'd planned, but only after they'd proven they had a chance. Not like he would admit it, now. "You wish. Gonna take a bit to prove you deserve to be within arms reach of her."
From the side, Leyli giggled. That sound pulled at him like a magnet. Unfortunately, the other men noticed. From the corner of his eye, he saw one man elbow another. They were convinced his dedication to the Princess was more than just honorable. He marked the man's face in his mind. Fucking asshole would pay.
"So, why am I here again, Tristan?" Leyli asked, taunting him.
He tossed her a smile. "I dunno. What is it nobles do, exactly?"
"Sit on our asses."
He chuckled, because that's exactly what she was doing. "Yeah. You're here, pup, because I'm supposed to keep you in sight and haven't mastered being in two places at once. Get comfy."
The little minx did, too. With a groan, she flopped onto her back, letting her hands fall above her head.
That tight dress only proved how firm her breasts really were, and he had a funny feeling he wasn't the only man aware of it. Sadly, she had no clue. Being a gladiator had changed her. Not just mentally, but physically, and the soft girl he'd first seen had been replaced by a woman. He was just glad the rest didn't know that she looked so much better with her dress on the floor and the sheets wrapped around her.
Focus, he thought, making his way through the guards smacking at each other with wooden weapons. She was about to pick a husband, and the only way he could take care of her was to find the best guard. Five of these men would end up as the last line between his Wolf and the men who wanted to put her back in her place. From the mess of spoiled pigs and arrogant brats, he had to find five of them who would be brave enough to piss off all the nobles in court if that's what it took to protect her. He had to find five men willing to throw everything away for nothing more than hopes and dreams.
Just like in the camps, Tristan watched the men spar. He took note of who had a weakness, who had confidence issues, and whose sword work was lacking. One man moved with unexpected precision. Another thought his training sword was a club. Chuckling, Tristan recognized a man named Edwyn. He was some merchant's kid whose father had paid well to get him a position.
After nearly half an hour of watching them smack at each other halfheartedly, he really did want to see what they could do when defending the Princess. The arrogant blonde was going to enjoy this a little too much, but at least he knew the bastard had some idea of how to judge a fighter's ability.
"Ley!" he yelled, gesturing for her to come over.
Sucking in a deep breath, she pulled herself up, then stood, dusting off her skirts before obeying. This time, Tristan's mind wasn't stuck on her shapely legs. He was watching the soldiers around him, making notes of which men dared to run their eyes over her. That was most. The three who didn't got raised a bit in his ranks.
"You, you, you, you, and you," he said, pointing at a man with each word. "Weapons of your choice. Your duty is to defend her Highness from some rogue gladiator. If you can manage, you get to keep going. If not, you'll need to return to your regular post."