by Jasmine Walt
Order of the Regent
Knights of the Harem: Book One
Jasmine Walt
Melle Amade
Dynamo Press
Copyright © 2018, Jasmine Walt and Melle Amade. All rights reserved. Published by Dynamo Press.
This novel is a work of fiction. All characters, places, and incidents described in this publication are used fictitiously, or are entirely fictional. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted, in any form or by any means, except by an authorized retailer, or with written permission of the publisher. Inquiries may be addressed via email to [email protected].
If you want to be notified when Jasmine’s next novel is released and get access to exclusive contests, giveaways, and freebies, sign up for her mailing list here. Your email address will never be shared and you can unsubscribe at any time.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Also by Jasmine Walt
Also by Melle Amade
About the Authors
1
The golden key medallion slipped through Queen Lorelai’s fingers, clattering onto the wooden dais and bouncing end over end. Her smile froze as she tried to hold the pearl necklace together, but it was too late. The gems scattered like hailstones, rattling around her feet. The crowds in the arena stands grew still. Everyone stared at the queen as she kept herself composed and covered the remnants of the broken necklace.
The king hardly seemed to notice. He leaned back on his cushioned throne, his head tilted up as he gazed at the floral garlands that wreathed the royal box. He seemed not the least bit interested in what transpired before him. It was as if he were already gone from this world.
But his brother noticed. Leaning forward, Prince Guntram raised one black eyebrow at Lorelai and smirked. “Now that’s a bad omen, isn’t it?”
Lorelai steadied herself, breathing the fresh scent of jasmine and roses that lavished the garlands. Springtime in Valliere was her favorite time of year with the new buds, crisp air, and royal jousts, which always brought the greatest challengers from around the kingdom to the capital.
“It’s just a necklace.” She smiled graciously at Guntram, masking her revulsion to the man she had to call brother-in-law. “And chains break.”
His wife, Princess Beatrice, grimaced from the far side of the box as she rubbed her swollen belly. “Don’t be a peasant, Guntram, putting stock in omens.” Her typical harsh tone had an extra sting in it. Beatrice hated omens, especially since the portent for her unborn child was so devastating it was kept tightly within the royal family.
Guntram ignored her. While Lorelai’s handmaidens frantically apologized and moved deftly around her skirts to pick up the scattered pearls, he stared at Lorelai. “It’s about discernment. Don’t you agree, Your Grace? Being able to determine the true omen from the false premonition.”
Lorelai bowed her head, her hand moving self-consciously over her thin waistline and flat belly. She smoothed her skirts with a pang of sadness. When she had married the king, it had been foretold she would bring an heir to the throne who would strengthen Valliere, banish the dark mist, and make peace with all its surrounding enemies. After eight years of marriage, and with her husband’s condition declining, clearly this omen would not come to pass. The kingdom would go to Prince Guntram and Princess Beatrice, and Lorelai would be left to retire, at twenty-eight, to a convent with no hope of even returning to her own lands.
A blonde head bobbed in front of her as her handmaiden, Cateline, curtsied. Rising, she presented the fallen key to the queen.
“The people are waiting,” Prince Guntram snapped.
“Guntram!” King Peverell’s voice cracked like a whip, even though he didn’t move. “Let the queen manage her affairs.”
Guntram’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing more. Instead, he slowly perused the arena, drawing Lorelai’s attention to all the courtiers staring at the royal box. Inside she seethed, but she knew she couldn’t show it. She was required to remain regal and in control at all times. Secretly, she would much rather be matching her skills against the archers of the realm, but she didn’t have that luxury. Her task was to be the figurehead of the kingdom, to navigate the dangerous waters of the court and keep the often-battling houses at peace. It was a more treacherous responsibility than any knight ever faced in battle. It required impeccable diplomacy skills and the ability to control a crowd with a single look.
In other words, she needed to be exceptional—at all times.
Especially at a moment like this, with everyone, friend and foe, turning to her for an explanation.
They had all seen the queen’s collier, the official necklace symbolizing the unity of Valliere, break and tumble to the ground. It happened just before she would drop her handkerchief for a dashing knight of the Order to capture before it hit the ground. Instead, she had caught her finger in the necklace and broken the clasp. The only sound in the arena was the pennants cracking in the wind. Everyone was focused on the broken necklace.
Members of those houses were in the stands. They gathered in the capital for the coming days to test their warriors against the strength of the crown, represented by the Order of the Regent, the five greatest knights in all the land. This was the event of the year. Each house from throughout the realm with an eligible second child would present their knight in an attempt to win a place on the Order of the Regent. A new man seldom made it past the valiant knights of the Order, but the houses hoped they might bring honor and glory to their banner by having their champion oust one of the king’s personal guards. For these few days, all the petty bickering and feuds between the houses were put aside in favor of lighthearted banter and sparring.
But not a single person in the stands looked amused as they stared at the king’s box. The king’s sigil, the golden key, had fallen from Queen Lorelai’s neck and slipped into the darkness. There could not be a worse omen for the coming year. Each pearl represented a house of Valliere, and the key was the symbol of the royal family, House du Capet, who had ruled Valliere for more than three hundred years and kept all the houses in an uneasy peace.
Lorelai gathered what pearls remained on the broken strand around her neck and carefully cupped them in her hands.
“Bring me the ivory box.” Lorelai’s voice rang loud and clear across the arena, though she spoke only to Lady Cateline. She would not run and hide from this any more than she avoided anything else in her life.
When Cateline presented the open box, Lorelai placed the gathered pearls and the key into the cache and closed the lid. She pushed away thoughts of her parents and their excitement when they gave her the ivory antique. All their dreams of saving the country from the Grosse Obscurite would come to nothing when the king died, and she had not produced an heir.
Lorelai shuddered at the thought of the dark mist that had lingered on the outskirts of their kingdom for generations. It was a deep black fog that no one dared enter, for it transformed both
humans and beasts into horrific monsters with talons and leathery wings who ripped apart all who entered the mist. And still, no one knew what had caused it or how to stop it.
Lorelai touched the paper-thin skin of her husband’s hand, and his warm gaze moved slowly towards her. She sighed inwardly. Her husband was not well. He should be in his chambers, not at this blasted tournament on parade for the people. But he had insisted. He wanted to make an important announcement tonight, and it was crucial to show his face to the people during the day. Though her husband had always been ill, she had learned long ago not to argue with the king. He was the sovereign of the land, and his word was law.
“I noticed just this morning the clasp on this necklace needed mending,” Lorelai said loudly to the king. Her voice was casual, as if she were having a simple, private conversation, and the ears of the court were not piqued and listening for any sign of weakness between the royal couple.
They all clung to the fact that the queen had not produced an heir.
Their marriage had not been graced by the saints. Two years after their wedding, it had been clear the king would be unable to perform his husbandly duties. He had asked Lorelai if she would take Guntram as her lover instead, but she had refused. Though Guntram hid it well from the king, serving the interests of their house, he was twisted by bitterness and disappointment. Lorelai suspected it was because he had no true purpose, simply relegated to an administrative role in the kingdom. But, regardless, there was no way she could take him as a lover and be vulnerable with a man whose only desire was glorifying himself and his house. Somehow, she had always assumed her husband would get better. But he hadn’t. Lorelai had finally determined she would take matters into her own hands, but that decision had been met with complete humiliation when Taron, the longest-serving knight of the Order of the Regent, had rejected her.
Lorelai pushed the thought away. Everyone stared at her.
“Lady Montbard.” Lorelai scanned the crowd until she saw the maroon banner with the burning gold heart sigil of House du Montbard. They ruled the duchy of Moreno and were one of the strongest houses in all Valliere. “I believe this was a gift from your house. Perhaps you can help?” Lorelai’s intention was clear. She wanted to show the courtiers how strong the alliance was between House du Montbard and the royal house.
Lady Montbard was a formidable woman. Though her house colors were maroon and gold, since the assassination of her husband twenty years earlier she wore only black. There were no spring flowers in her hair or bright garlands draped over her shoulders. She was as joyous as a woman attending a funeral. She stood as regal as the queen herself and made a slight curtsy towards the royal box.
“We will have it repaired.” Lady Montbard raised three fingers towards the queen in respect. Her imperial gaze moved towards the five knights of the Order of the Regent, who stood in a row of flashing armor and feathered helmets in the arena.
Lorelai knew the knights by their colors as much as their faces. The defenders of the king, their charge was to be his proxy in battle. When you spoke to one of them, it was as if you were speaking to the king’s sword. They were part of the king’s household, lived in the castle, and were almost as close to Lorelai as the king himself.
Lady Montbard nodded to the middle knight, a hulking man in near-black armor with the burning yellow heart sigil. Bruno Montbard, second son of House du Montbard. The maroon and gold regalia on his tall chestnut steed swayed as it stepped out of line from the other knights and approached the royal box.
“Well played.” King Peverell’s voice was low and soft. So quiet, not even the servants lined up behind them could hear the words carried on the gentle breeze. “Always keep the lords and ladies in check.”
Lorelai squeezed the king’s hand and smiled. She gazed over the stands, making eye contact with the great lords and ladies of the land, just to ensure they were smiling and nodding as they should.
“We can only serve them with their respect,” she murmured as her hand slipped down to scratch the giant laircat lying next to her throne. When standing, the beast was the size of a horse, but now its massive head rested, twisted sideways so its saber-like teeth didn’t get in the way of using its paws for a pillow. A deep purr went up from the laircat as it pressed its head into Lorelai’s hand.
Guntram’s lip curled at her as he looked over the king’s head. The words he had whispered to her at breakfast that morning still rang in her ears. “You won’t have to worry about serving the kingdom much longer,” he had said, his tone biting. “Not unless you want to, that is.”
Lorelai clenched her jaw. She hated how he made her nervous. What if he offered her a position with him and his wife on the throne? A position as his second wife. Lorelai was never sure if he knew she had spurned him, but she was ever cautious around him.
If only Taron had not rejected her, she might have had a chance to rule the kingdom alone. Lorelai gripped the ermine edges of her purple cape tighter around her shoulders, her gaze automatically going to the bearded, fierce knight who stood in line with the others. Her heart raced at the sight of him. He was so regal and masterful, always in control and commanding, a natural leader of the Order of the Regent. His stern features and heavy eyebrows gave him an air of severity, but his eyes were often warm, kind, and open. Or at least, that was what she had thought.
Her stomach sank as she recalled his refusal to take her. She had always thought there was an attraction from the moment they met, and when she had come to him begging him to put a child in her belly, she had thought he would eagerly agree. How had she been so wrong?
Lorelai shook Taron out of her head. There was no changing what had happened. She focused instead on the dashing knight who drew his horse up to the edge of the royal box.
Bruno stood high in his stirrups as he removed his helmet, shaking his short, brown curls in the sunlight. The crowd cheered, but Bruno only focused on Lorelai as he gazed up at her, his green eyes intrepid beneath long, dark lashes. Lorelai kept her mouth closed, but her breath drew in sharply through her nose as his eyes focused on her décolletage. It was completely inappropriate to look at the queen in this manner, but from where he sat, few could see him, and a flush of heat rose in Lorelai as he bowed his chin to her and slowly met her eyes.
Lothario, the singing knight. That’s what the girls called him. She’d even overheard one say he knew how to make a sheep intestine into some sort of a tube to stop pregnancy if placed over an erect cock.
This was no knight to have romantic thoughts about.
Especially when you’re the queen.
Lorelai’s palms sweated as she clutched the ivory box. Why did close proximity to him always get her tongue-tied? She wished the king could dispense the box to Bruno, but that was impossible. The king was not steady, and although they had strengthened his appearance with thick clothes and a strong backrest, and covered his thinning hair with his most regal crown and decorative dark blue silks, it was all smoke and mirrors. A mirage to give the people the idea the king was still strong.
She waved her hand, giving Bruno permission to step forward. He sidled his horse up to the royal box, a bee flitting from the flowers towards him, but he never took his eyes off the queen, merely kept his chin low as a faithful servant and held out his hand to retrieve the box of pearls.
Lorelai stood, pulling her regal blue skirts to the side as she stepped forward. On the dais, she was taller than Bruno, even on his massive charger, and she leaned forward to hand him the cache. Her cheeks burned. She was practically bent over in his face, and the tight blue corset made her already generous curves all the more pronounced. Bruno inhaled deeply as he took the box from Lorelai’s hand.
“Garlands of jasmine and roses are but a decorative framework for your beauty.” His grin was breathtaking.
“I see you are composing another song for tonight’s feast.” Lorelai smiled graciously.
“It will be an ode to your beauty.” He tucked the box under his arm, bowed
to the king, Prince Guntram, and his wife, and with a final wink to the queen, he spurred his horse towards his dowager lady mother, who sat primly in the stands.
Lorelai turned in a rustling of skirts, gracefully placing herself back on the throne. She kneaded the soft spot behind Elba’s ears. The giant beast let out a low purr. Lorelai wanted to purr as well. Why in the name of the saints had she gone to Taron to give her an heir for the kingdom? Bruno made her nervous. He was a little too dashing and smooth to seem sincere. But why had she been looking for sincerity?
She needed to get pregnant before her husband died, and perhaps Bruno was just the knight for the job.
2
Taron sat rigid in his armor as Bruno bowed low to his lady mother. The stately old woman stared down her nose at Bruno. It made Taron’s blood boil. There was never a more doting or faithful son to any house in Valliere than Bruno, but you wouldn’t know it by the way his mother treated him. Taron still didn’t know why she was so grim to her second child, but whenever she glared at him, he had a mind to tell her off. Whatever she blamed him for, he didn’t deserve it. Bruno’s heart was so big, and he loved his house so much, Taron couldn’t imagine what had offended his lady mother so.
Taron’s war stallion snorted as Bruno galloped back to the lineup on his red mare. “Steady, boy,” Taron murmured, gently placing two fingers against the horse’s neck as he pressed down. His stallion calmed despite Bruno’s mare dancing nervously in line. Taron wished he could have that effect on the other knights, but there was a nervous energy around them. It wasn’t just because it was the annual Tournament of the Order, when there was always a chance one of them could lose their place in the brotherhood.