Marcelo tucked his hand underneath and gripped it near the elbow before glancing up, expectantly. Efren winked and flexed his arm muscles twice in quick succession.
Marcelo laughed, and warm fuzzies tickled his belly as Efren’s chuckles joined his. He stepped lightly as they strode through the halls and down the staircase.
A footman opened the door as they approached the dining hall and announced them. The family was assembled on one side of the hall, and their conversation halted when Efren and Marcelo stepped into the room.
Queen Ellyn’s hand flew to her throat, and her eyes glistened as he and Efren joined the group. She shook her head but kept her gaze fixed on Marcelo.
She choked, “Oh, my dear boy,” and threw open her arms.
After a quick glance at Efren, Marcelo stepped into her embrace. Her hug remained gentle, perhaps mindful of the injury to his chest.
She rubbed, rather than patted his back. “Thank you for saving my son.”
His face heated, and he didn’t know what to say, so he smiled and said nothing. He cast another glance at Efren, who was no help at all, offering the faintest of shrugs and a half-grin.
“I know you’re uncomfortable when you’re the center of attention,” the queen continued, “but I’m afraid you’ll have to bear with us for a few moments.”
With that warning, he was passed through a gauntlet of careful hugs, sniffles, and murmured expressions of pride and gratitude. His face was so warm, its color probably matched the wine by the time the king came to his rescue.
“All right now. Let’s give Marcelo a little breathing room. And let’s sit, he’s probably famished,” he said with a wink reminiscent of Efren’s, “judging by how little he ate off his midday tray.”
Marcelo expelled a breath as everyone turned toward the table. With a hand at his back, Efren led him over and pulled out his chair. He pressed a kiss to Marcelo’s cheek before taking his own seat at the bottom end of the table.
Marcelo’s lips twitched when Efren’s foot rubbed alongside his. He took a couple deep breaths, returned the rub, and sent Efren a sidelong glance and a wink of his own.
Efren truly cared, that was obvious. Marcelo’s lips curved a little higher, and he sat a little straighter.
Once everyone was seated and served, the king said, “We’re going to break our usual custom of eschewing political discussions at family meals. Much has happened throughout the day, and a number of pigeons have made the long journey between here and Sheburat, some arriving very recently. I’m sure everyone would like to be brought up to speed.”
Heads, including Marcelo’s, bobbed all around the table. He suspected plenty, but knew less than anyone else.
“First,” King Alnod said, “we captured the men who’d been with Prince Artemis, and they admitted that Prince Artemis’s official mission for coming here was to appeal directly to us for help in their quest to free Olstin.
“Meanwhile, Ulric himself had gone to Sheburat. They’d left under cover of darkness to keep their purpose secret for as long as possible, hoping the surprise might help their case with Queen Giselle.”
King Alnod nodded at Marcelo at the mention of his mother. “Or at least catch her unaware and without an official response prepared.
“We sent pigeons to notify her of both the Forget-Me-Not poisoning yesterday and this morning’s physical attack as well as the theory you and Efren discussed out on the field regarding Bertram’s death immediately prior to Artemis’s appearance, and that theory’s apparent confirmation by Artemis’s attack. She had King Ulric taken into custody for questioning.
“News of his remaining son’s death, coupled with whatever…uh…methods of questioning the queen employed, broke Ulric, and he’s confessed to all three attacks.
“He claims he had no inside assistance from Zioneven residents, and that his men coerced Mr. Othes into cooperating, then murdered him and dumped his previously murdered family in their apartment. He confirmed that it was Marcelo who’d killed Bertram, and he’s admitted to the motive Marcelo suggested to Efren this morning after the attack.”
“Princess Udine?” Rolland said. “They truly thought Efren might marry her if he were free of the peace treaty requirement?”
“Yes.” The king nodded. “They truly did.”
“What…” Marcelo cleared his throat. “What happens now, sir?”
“Excellent question.” The king scratched his chin. “Let’s see. I think the tour of the realm should be pushed back for a moon cycle. Rolland wouldn’t want to replace the two of you and leave Bridget and Hugon right now. Merewina’s in no condition for travel either. And you and Efren should have that much time together here before taking it on.
“Concerning King Ulric, I don’t precisely know because I’m going to let your mother deal with him. We can rest assured, though, that he won’t be reinstated as ruler of Proye. As a patriarchy, neither Princess Udine nor his granddaughters will ascend to the throne.
“The Duke of Westbury, an eminently reasonable man, has the best claim, and your mother and I have agreed to back him should he encounter any resistance.
“As for King Deverick in Gagel, your mother and I will be apologizing to him for the next year, at least.” The king snorted. “Ah, he’s a sensible man and had already admitted the evidence was compelling. Even he was suspecting one of his nobles might be behind it, so I think he’ll simply be glad it’s over.”
Efren said, “And so peace once again settles over the four realms.”
“Indeed it does,” the king said with a firm nod. “And our supper conversation hereby ceases to include anything political in nature.”
“Hear, hear!” Merewina laughed. “Bridget, do tell us what Hugon has done this afternoon.”
Chapter 18: A New Life Together
Marcelo, two days later
“Wake up, my lovely.”
Efren’s words were once again accompanied by a gentle shake to Marcelo’s shoulder and a light kiss to his forehead.
Marcelo kept his eyes closed and giggled as Efren ran a finger along his jaw, then tipped it up for a proper, although still light, kiss.
Marcelo’s blood warmed, but the dull ache on his chest kept him from pushing for more.
“Come, my lovely. Let’s make the most of this glorious morning, hmm?” Efren pressed his arousal against Marcelo’s to augment his words.
With a snorting laugh, Marcelo opened his eyes. “Is this to be our routine each morning?”
Efren grinned as Marcelo rolled off and relaxed into his pillow. “I think Doctor Brookse would object to our making this particular morning ever more glorious, but never fear, my darling, I think I can promise not to let our lives get boring.”
“I have no trouble believing that, dearest.”
Efren was silent for a few beats before turning onto his side, lifting onto an elbow, and gazing into Marcelo’s eyes. “Those aren’t just words to us, are they? Our endearments? We’ve known each other for two days, yet I treasure each moment in your company, and you…” Efren cleared his throat. “As long as I live, I will never forget what you did for me, and I will spend my life striving to earn the risk you took. You are, indeed, my darling. Now and forevermore.”
Treasure each moment. Marcelo let Efren’s words glide around his mind and add a pleasant tingle to the aches in his body as he gathered his words.
“My thoughts in that fraction of a moment, while that knife spun through the air, were that despite drifting contentedly through life for eighteen years and since spending just a single day in your company, I knew, beyond anything I’ve ever known, that I could never again be content if I lost you.” Marcelo touched Efren’s cheek. “Especially when, despite recognizing that Prince Artemis and his temper hold the onus of blame, my actions did trigger him.”
That was where Marcelo’s lost memories had failed him. Being told he’d overcome fear in the past had gone a long way toward boosting his self-esteem and courage. He might have done the r
ight thing regardless, and that knowledge had helped push him toward it, but actually remembering that earlier encounter with real danger would have done so much more to tamp down his initial panic when suddenly faced with a new imminent threat.
His new, remembered experience with confronting danger would help him face threats more calmly going forward. Of course, fear would never completely disappear, not as long as he had something to live and fight for. All reasonable men surely felt it. There would be no true bravery without it, only foolhardiness.
“I am immensely proud—and of course grateful—that you so quickly overcame your instinctive terror to take the bravest step a man can take.”
Marcelo’s heart hammered in his chest, and Efren surely would have heard it if Marcelo’s stomach hadn’t chosen that touching moment to unleash an unseemly growl.
With a laugh, Efren rolled off the bed and pulled the bell rope. At Marcelo’s inquiring expression, he said, “You won’t be going to the practice field today, and we awoke early, so you might as well enjoy being pampered again with a well-deserved morning soak and Erich’s familiar assistance before we join the family for breakfast.
Marcelo winced as his stretch pulled at extra-stiff muscles across his chest. “Thank you. A little more pampering won’t go amiss this morning.”
Efren lay down again, and Marcelo snuggled into the crook of his arm. Efren’s skin felt warm, and his heart thumped with a steady, reassuring beat. Funny how comforting this position was today when it had frightened him so two mornings ago.
Alarming as the situation had felt at the time, perhaps, in hindsight, it had all happened for the best.
The investigation of Marcela’s death and Marcelo’s abduction had hit a standstill, and had been pointed in the wrong direction. Without the fresh clue, would they have uncovered the truth? Would Zioneven’s relationship with Gagel have been unfairly tarnished?
Marcelo was the same man, with the same courage within him that he’d been before losing his memory. He’d proven that yesterday. But he’d also lost any associated nightmares he’d had of their harrowing journey from Sheburat to Zioneven, and he welcomed that loss.
And what about the teasing humor he and Efren shared?
Merewina had said that unless they’d done it only behind closed doors, Efren hadn’t teased him, at least not to that degree. They’d clearly been in love, but had the casual teasing humor he enjoyed so much been missing?
Their initial meeting and time to get to know one another would have been under the watchful eye and direction of his mother, and Efren would have been without his own family’s comforting support, far from home.
Their behavior toward each other would have been more formal, and that might have set the pattern for their future interactions.
With the Forget-Me-Not, their initial meeting had been anything but formal. Yes, terrifying in the moment, but quite laughable looking back.
It had set the cornerstone, a shared sense of humor, from which they would build their new relationship.
Marcelo ran his fingers through the alluring hair of Efren’s chest. “I know it’s only been two days, but we’ve certainly said the words before, and I feel it, so I’m going to say it. I love you, dearest, and I look forward to spending the rest of my life by your side.”
Efren tipped up Marcelo’s face and kissed him. “I’ve been giddy with happiness since discovering we were wed. I love you, too, my darling, and want no one but you by my side as we journey through life.”
THE END
ABOUT ADDISON ALBRIGHT
Addison Albright is a writer living in the middle of the USA. Her stories are gay (sometimes erotic) romance in contemporary settings. Her education includes a BS in Education with a major in mathematics and a minor in chemistry. Addison loves spending time with her family, reading, popcorn, boating, french fries, “open window weather,” cats, math, and anything chocolate. She loves to read pretty much anything and everything, anytime and anywhere.
For more information, visit authoraddisonalbright.com.
ABOUT JMS BOOKS LLC
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