Harry winked and flashed a rakish grin. “The media will love it.”
Lance rolled his eyes. “I can’t wait.”
All three laughed and did the fist bump.
The remainder of the wedding flew past with more dancing, the cake cutting and, of course, the throwing of the bouquet. To no one’s surprise, Reyna, who’d muscled her way to the front, caught Jenny’s tossed flowers like a professional football player. That generated lots of backslapping from all of the guys for an embarrassed Esteban.
Ryan and Gibson, while technically on duty, also had fun and relaxed as the day wore on. Lance learned from Justin that his dad had brought his mom as a date, and that maybe they might get back together. The big, intimidating boy looked so childlike when he’d said it that Lance felt emotion clog his throat. Arthur had a gift; there was no doubt about that. He seemed to bring people together, even people who swore they never could be.
While Merlin had sat at the wedding party table, he’d spoken little except to congratulate Arthur and Jenny, and refused to be part of any photos. Mostly, he and Sam chatted about Britain and Scotland. As always, the wizard appeared to feel that remaining as invisible as possible was the best course of action.
All told, the Wedding of the Ages, as the media later dubbed it, was a resounding success and the happiest day thus far in the lives of Arthur, Jenny, and their boys.
†††
Later that night, after Arthur and Jenny retired to a seventh floor room for an uninterrupted wedding night, Lance and Ricky sat facing each other on Lance’s bed, wearing t-shirts and workout shorts and just relishing the presence of the other. Ricky traced the lines of Lance’s palm with his fingertips, while Lance absently fingered strands of Ricky’s hair.
“That song, Ricky, the first one we danced to?”
Ricky smiled.
“That’s how I feel about you,” both said breathlessly at the same time. Then they laughed.
“Even that,” Lance said with sigh, “how we know each other’s thoughts. I love every thing about you, Ricky.”
Ricky felt his chest tight with adoration. “I love everything about you too.”
They rested their foreheads against one another, green eyes locked on brown.
“Did you mean what you said, Lance,” Ricky whispered, almost without breath. “About eloping?”
“Hell, no.”
Ricky frowned and pulled away. “Huh?”
Lance’s grin grew so wide it split his face. “When I marry your fool ass I want the whole world there.”
Now Ricky grinned, too, lighting up his face with pure joy, and setting Lance’s heart aflutter.
“What makes you think I’d ever marry a dumbass like you?” Ricky asked with a tender smirk.
Lance chuckled. “Maybe cuz you love every little thing about me?”
Ricky chuckled, too. “Well, there’s that.”
They leaned in and kissed.
†††
The One Direction boys spent Sunday at New Camelot before flying out that night, which necessitated Lance missing mass that morning. He’d discussed the security risks with Ryan and Gibson, and while expressing concerns, they knew better than to argue with him. Both men agreed to accompany the family whenever they chose to go to Immaculate Heart, and Lance determined to make the effort whenever possible.
Today, however, was too hectic, especially with Harry and his band mates in residence. Lance and Ricky gave them the grand tour, and even armored them up for weapons training. The youthful Brits felt a kinship with their own past since most of these weapons had come from ancient Britain, carried through time by Avalon and deposited here by Merlin. They had fun, and Lance posed for more pictures with Harry. The two friends vowed to keep in contact, and the other four singers all exchanged Twitter and email addresses with Lance and Ricky, and everyone agreed to keep in touch.
Arthur and Jenny did not appear all day until dinnertime, which caused the kids, including Reyna and Esteban, to snigger with amusement, especially at how radiant both looked when they finally came downstairs. While they had seemed older during the past few months, especially with all of Lance’s personal drama, this night they looked younger and more vibrant than ever. For Lance, seeing the fulfillment of a real relationship based on love and commitment meant everything to him. It convinced him that his and Ricky’s decision to move slowly was the right one.
†††
The next few days passed quickly as the family prepared for Thanksgiving. This would be their second Thanksgiving at New Camelot, but Arthur and Jenny’s first as husband and wife. Jenny had already sent in the paperwork to Judge Baker of Children and Family Court to legally adopt the three boys, and the granting of that request was a mere formality, most likely to come within two months.
Jenny also made it a point to go out and buy Lance another Galaxy smartphone to replace the one Ryan had given to the FBI. As of yet, the old one hadn’t been returned and the IT guys who worked for the bureau had been unable to trace the source of the threat.
The wedding had been top of the news since Saturday, with the surprise appearance of One Direction causing a major stir on the Internet and the New Camelot website. Excited girls asked for pictures of the group, and Techie dutifully posted them. Needless to say, the one of Harry and Ricky kissing Lance got the most likes and comments, including the expected ‘A Three-Way for Lance?’
Justin and Techie had cornered Lance and Ricky at school that Monday morning to rather nervously ask if it was okay for them to ask out Bridget and Ariel, and even invite them over for gatherings and other events related to the CBOR. They’d had so much fun at the wedding that they wanted to see more of the girls.
Lance and Ricky both thought it amusing that these two guys, especially Justin, seemed so reticent in the asking.
Lance assured the two awkward knights that dating the girls would be awesome. “They’re great girls.”
Justin and Techie, so different in background and temperament, fist-bumped with glee.
“But you treat ’em good,” Ricky admonished good-naturedly, and the boys laughed.
Due to the massive showing of knights for the wedding, Thanksgiving dinner this year was a more intimate affair, with most of the knights spending it with their families. Besides Arthur’s family, there was Sergeant Gibson and Justin, Sergeant Ryan, and Merlin.
As had become tradition the previous year, Arthur asked around the table for each person to acknowledge something he or she was grateful for. Naturally, he was grateful for his new bride and his outstanding boys. Jenny, likewise, thanked God for the gift of Arthur and her new family. Lance and Ricky also gave thanks for their new mom, but mostly for the gift of each other. Reyna and Esteban gave thanks for each other, as well. Only Justin seemed to differ – he gave thanks for the possibility that his mom and dad might get back together. His wish almost made Gibson redden with embarrassment.
Sergeant Ryan hesitated a moment when it came time for him to give thanks. He eyed Lance and Ricky, who were seated beside an expectant Arthur and Jenny. “As strange as this may sound,” he said in his gravelly voice, “I’m thankful for Michael––”
Lance gasped slightly, but Ryan merely gazed at him soberly.
“––because Michael gave me back a gift I hope I never lose, my amazing godson.”
He lowered his eyes to his wineglass and fiddled with his silverware, clearly flustered by uncomfortable emotions.
Lance’s mouth dropped open, and Ricky laughingly reached up to close it.
Arthur grinned broadly. “I second that.” He raised his goblet high in the air. “To Sir Michael the Good, Knight Eternal of the Table Round.”
Everyone raised their glasses and toasted. “Sir Michael,” each one mumbled.
And then the meal began. Lance had sunk within himself at the mention of Michael’s name, and Ricky had to prod him to pass the cranberry sauce. “It’s Thanksgiving, Lance, no emo stuff today.”
That drew a gri
n to Lance’s face and he elbowed Ricky right back before handing him the cranberries.
Everyone was laughing and clowning and enjoying the delicious food prepared by the hotel kitchen staff when one of the maids entered and announced that someone was at the front door looking for Lance.
Instantly the banter vanished and everyone sat at attention. Ryan stood, hand already moving to the holster beneath his jacket. “Who is it?” he asked gruffly.
“He wouldn’t say, sir,” the young Latina offered cautiously. “He’s a young man, maybe a boy, and he asked for Sir Lance of the Round Table.”
Lance and Ricky exchanged a look. Lance eyed the maid appraisingly. “What does he look like?”
“He appears to be an Indian, sir,” the young woman answered with the extreme politeness of all the hotel staff.
“Indian?” Ricky exclaimed, pulling a face.
“Yes, sir,” the maid went on. “He’s wearing those Indian shoes and carrying a big bow and some arrows.”
“Thank you, Maria,” Ryan said crisply. “We’ll handle it from here.”
“An Indian?” Lance repeated, clearly mystified. “A Thanksgiving prank, nino?”
“How’d he get past the guard at the front gate?” Justin asked pointedly.
Ryan looked cautious. “Let’s find out. Gib, you and me’ll open the door and block Lance and Ricky, just in case it’s a setup.”
Gibson stood, and Justin jumped up along with him. “I’m going, too,” the boy interjected, and his dad agreed.
They looked to Arthur for confirmation, and the king silently nodded, his hand slipping anxiously into Jenny’s.
Lance and Ricky rose to their feet and Lance shrugged at his parents. “Don’t worry, guys, I’m just going to the front door.” He flashed his winning smile, and the adults visibly relaxed.
“Eat, Arthur, we got this,” Gibson said and then he and Ryan led the three boys out of the Renaissance Dining Room and down the corridors to the lobby, where they stopped before the double front doors. The beveled glass panels revealed little in the darkness without, despite the porch lights being lit.
Each man drew his service pistol and grabbed onto the handle of one door. Lance and Ricky hovered just behind them, with Justin prepared to tackle them to the floor if necessary.
Gibson whispered, “One, two, three!” And they yanked open both doors, guns aimed straight ahead.
The young man standing outside moved so fast Lance barely caught the movement. He leapt for the ground, whipped out an arrow, fitted it to his bow, all on one roll. Then he was up on his feet, arrow pulled back taut and wavering between both detectives.
“Is this your Thanksgiving tradition, to kill Indians like the old days?” the young man said, his voice tight and stilted, but steady.
Lance looked between the two detectives at the young man––boy––really, and sensed the fear the boy wasn’t allowing himself to display.
The two detectives exchanged tentative looks, clearly not sure what to do.
Lance stepped between them and put a hand on each shoulder. Ricky and Justin leapt forward to grab him, but Lance announced firmly, “Enough.”
Everything stopped. The guns were still pointed at the Indian, but the boy’s arrow now pointed straight at Lance. Lance saw that the boy was, in fact, wearing moccasins of some sort, along with regular jeans and a t-shirt, covered over with some kind of buckskin jacket. His long black hair trailed down his back to hang just above the crook of his knees. There were feathers tied to sections of his hair with what looked like beads.
Beneath the porch light, Lance met the boy’s squinting brown eyes, noted the rigid posture, the stance, the rock steady hands on the bow and arrow. This guy is fearless, he decided, and sincere.
“Put away your guns, nino. He’s cool.”
Ricky slid anxiously up to Lance. “More of your soul whispering, Lance?”
Lance nodded.
“Are you sure?” Ricky hissed urgently.
Lance nodded again.
Keeping their eyes pinned to the young Indian, the two detectives lowered their weapons slowly.
Lance smiled at the boy. “It’s okay. We don’t kill Indians on Thanksgiving. We invite them in for dinner.”
Ricky sucked in a breath, and even Justin reacted with surprise, but Lance stepped in between Ryan and Gibson to stand before the boy with the arrow, which now pointed straight at his heart. They were about the same height, Lance noted, as he fixed his eyes on those of the other. Without breaking eye contact, he lifted a hand and gently pushed the arrow down and away from his chest.
“My name’s Lance,” he said calmly, still meeting the other’s suspicious gaze.
The young man lowered his bow arm slowly, but his body retained its rigid posture. “Dakota Cloud Eagle,” he said, his voice deep and flat and proud. “Oglala Lakota, formerly of the Pine Ridge Reservation in South Dakota.”
Lance grinned. “Welcome, Dakota Cloud Eagle. Cool name.”
He stuck out his hand, but the young man merely eyed it without expression. His eyes narrowed.
“Does your Round Table always greet visitors thus?” he asked. “I had heard your brotherhood welcomed all.”
Lance felt Ricky step up beside him as he sheepishly answered, “No, and I’m sorry about that, man. See, there’s somebody who wants to kill my ass so….” He let the rest of the thought trail off with a shrug.
The young Indian straightened up even more, puffing out his chest. “I’m a warrior. I’ll protect you.”
Now Ricky stepped slightly in front of Lance. “Uh, that’s my job.”
The young man raised his eyebrows questioningly.
“This is Ricky,” Lance offered by way of explanation, “my brother and my––” He faltered then, not sure what to say. “Well, I’m sure you already know. Anyway, he’s got my back.”
Dakota eyed them both with a powerfully discerning gaze, flicking his eyes first to Lance and then to Ricky. He returned his arrow to its quiver and slung the bow over his shoulder before reaching into a multicolored cloth bag hanging across his chest by a long shoulder strap. He pulled out an envelope and presented it to Lance. “A letter, from my tribal council, for you.”
Lance glanced at Ricky, who just shrugged, and reached out to take the letter, turning it over in his hand. “They couldn’t, like, just put a stamp on it? Or send an email?”
Dakota squinted slightly with discomfort. “I have seen computers, but have hardly used them. And we do not trust the government letter service. I volunteered. It’s about your Children’s Bill of Rights. And I wish to join your Round Table.”
Lance’s eyebrows shot up in surprise and he looked at Ricky, who shrugged again.
“Lance,” he heard Ryan’s gruff voice behind him. “Let’s not stand out here all night. We’re sitting ducks.”
Lance glanced back. “Okay, nino.” He looked again at Dakota, who was studying he and Ricky with a discerning eye.
“You are both native, like me,” the Lakota boy announced like it was already a proven fact. “First People.”
Lance said, “I don’t know nothing about my parents, but I could be.”
“Mine come from Mexico,” Ricky added with a shrug. “So I guess they could be, like, Mexican Indian or something. They never said.”
Dakota continued his steady gaze, studying the faces of both boys. “You have my eyes, and the shape of your faces. You’re native.”
Lance chuckled. “Cool. Listen, um, Dakota, come on in and have dinner and we can talk some more. My nino says it’s dangerous out here.”
Dakota hesitated. “My people do not celebrate Thanksgiving like white people do.”
Lance frowned. “Yeah, but I’m native, right? And I’m thankful you came all this way to deliver a letter.”
Still, the other boy hesitated.
“C’mon, man,” Ricky insisted. “It’s getting cold, and you’re a guy so you gotta be hungry, right?”
Dakota nodded slowly
, and then walked between Lance and Ricky past the cautious gazes of Ryan and Gibson. He gave the muscular Justin a squinty look, and then everyone was back inside with the doors locked. As they returned to the dining room, Justin asked Dakota how he got past the guards at the gate.
“I’m an Indian,” was the cryptic response, causing Justin to look at his dad with raised eyebrows. Gibson indicated with a “look” that they’d discuss the security breach at another time.
Upon entering the Renaissance Room, Lance indicated Dakota’s bow and quiver of arrows and the young man slipped them off hesitantly, like they were a part of his body, and set them down on an empty table; his satchel, as well.
All eyes were fixed on them as Ryan, Gibson, and Justin resumed their seats and Lance and Ricky led Dakota forward to Arthur and Jenny.
“Dad, mom, this is Dakota Cloud Eagle,” Lance announced. “He came all the way from South Dakota to give me a letter, and he wants to join us.”
Arthur and Jenny both stood.
Lance noted the awe in Dakota’s eyes at Arthur’s height and physical stature, recalling his initial meeting with the man and how ‘wowed’ he’d been, too.
Arthur smiled warmly, his eyes convivial. “Welcome to New Camelot, Dakota Cloud Eagle. I am Arthur.”
Without obvious expression, but still, as Lance could tell, struggling to contain a sense of awe, Dakota said, “I have heard you are a great leader and I have come here to become one of your knights. I am a fierce warrior and fighter and will serve you well.”
Arthur smiled. “Your kind praise is appreciated, but here we are warriors of right, Dakota, not might.” The boy frowned slightly, but Arthur placed a hand on Jenny’s shoulder and said, “This is my wife, the Lady Jenny.”
She extended a hand and smiled broadly. “Welcome to New Camelot.”
This time Dakota reached out and shook her hand. “Among my people, we are of our mother’s clan.” Inadvertently, he flicked his eyes toward Lance and Ricky beside him and then back at her.
And The Children Shall Lead Page 11