Chapter Eighteen

K erric felt a problem the moment the transformation ended. He yanked his sword from its sheath and whirled. "Who's there?" He stood, letting his eyes adjust to the low light. Nothing.

And yet.…

"I know you're out there. Show yourself." Could it be one of Crau's sycophants? Or Crau himself?

Footsteps slowly approached. Eron stepped into the moonlight. "I thought there was a gargoyle here. You're one of the cursed guards, aren't you?"

Kerric's sword nearly slipped from his numb fingers. "Prince Eron." Oh, great Ibrus, what must the man think of me now?

"Hello, Kerric." Eron took a few steps closer. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Do you know how wrong it sounds to say, ‘I'm cursed to be a gargoyle'? That until you returned to the castle, I was forced to stand here day and night, watching the comings and goings of the people, unable to move. Knowing my men, men who trusted me, were also cursed for my actions?'"

"No worse than saying, ‘I'm not really a highwayman; I'm actually a king's son.'"

Put that way.… "Yes, I concede the point."

"Can you put your sword away, or do you intend to use it?" Eron's half smile shouldn't have affected Kerric's insides, but he couldn't deny the twist in his stomach.

Kerric added some levity to his tone. "If you put the knife away, Lord Night."

Some of the tension bled from the moment. "It's actually Lordling Night, and now you know."

Kerric inclined his head. "Now I know. So do you." He sheathed his sword.

"Aren't you supposed to be my protector?" Eron stowed his weapon.

"According to legend, my men and I are supposed to take on our original forms at your return. So far, I alone reverted to human, and only at night." Facing the end of one's life meant he hadn't listened too keenly to the details when Miisov cursed him.

And botched the spell.

"You disappeared from my room. I worried I'd been seeing things, but you actually vanished. Did you return here?"

"Yes. At dawn's first light, no matter where I am, I reform as the stone gargoyle you just saw." Kerric waved a hand toward the other statues. "My men are still stuck."

Eron's mouth dropped open. "You've been stuck here for twelve summers? Standing there, unable to move?"

Kerric cast his gaze down, unable to bear seeing pity in Eron's eyes. "Yes. I've seen people come and go, watched you hold up carriages with a clever bandit I now know was a childhood idol. Something about you just caught my fancy. Maybe I envied your freedom. Or maybe even then, I recognized who you were and knew you could set us free. That matters less to me now. I want to see your family restored." A finger under Kerric's chin forced his head up to meet Eron's gaze. When had Eron moved?

Not even a hint of pity showed on Eron's handsome face. "I watched you. How you stood guard over everything. And for some reason, I felt better, knowing you were here watching over me. I've not had many people in my life I could depend on. I'd love to have one more." Eron grinned. "Especially when they look like you. Tell me, Captain Kerric. When you saw me out in the forest, are you sure it was only my freedom you wanted?"

"What do you mean?" Kerric hadn't felt this much in the presence of a predator since his last bear hunting trip, though Eron was shorter than Kerric by a hand, with less muscle mass and no razor-sharp teeth or claws.

Eron leaned up on his toes, putting his mouth nearly in kissing distance of Kerric's. Kerric's heart pounded. "First, my ass looks as amazing in breeches as it does outside of them, which you've now seen for yourself. Second, it's good to finally know why you left so abruptly this morning. It had nothing to do with rejection, did it?"

Kerric swallowed hard. He wouldn't back away. While he'd been taught fighting, not negotiating, even a soldier recognized the importance of the next few moments. Three choices stood open: pretend he didn't understand the meaning of the words, claim to have rejected the advances—ending any additional chance—or be truthful. "No. It didn't."

The grin on Eron's face promised wicked things that caused squirming low in Kerric's belly.

Eron wrapped his arms around Kerric's neck, slanting his mouth over Kerric's. Kerric couldn't stop a groan, though his face heated at the prospect of his men overhearing. He broke the kiss long enough to say, "Can we take this somewhere else?"

Eron grinned, his eyes shining. Damned if the sight wouldn't keep Kerric warm, even if he had to perch on the ramparts as a naked human in a snowstorm. "I think my room might be out of the question. Someone might be listening, and those horrible tapestries." He exaggerated a shudder. "I remember much about the castle but not the grounds. Can you show me? We can start with the stables. Seems I recall a nice soft hayloft."

The words came out of Kerric's mouth before he could stop them. "No, my prince. If I am to bed you, it won't be like a stolen moment with some willing stableboy in a place reeking of manure." The moment he'd spoken, he realized the truth of the words. This wasn't a fellow soldier to entertain behind the barracks. This was a prince, his prince, to be adored and treated to the finest luxuries. Judging by the coarseness of Eron's callused palms against Kerric's cheeks, the scars on his knuckles, and other assorted healed wounds visible when he'd exited the bath, he didn't live the softest of lives.

A life he deserved.

Eron's expression turned somber. "Never let it be said you don't speak sweet words. But, excellent point. Tell me what's your favorite part of the grounds before I swoon further."

Kerric ignored the playful verbal joust and took Eron's hand. "Come with me." He led Eron down one floor, where they accessed another of those useful servants' passages leading to a dark alcove behind the kitchens, scarcely lit at this time of night. No one stirred in the cavernous space as they made their way down a hallway and outside.

The night air held hints of wood smoke from dozens of chimneys, lord and commoner alike turning to wood fires to drive back the fall chill. Kerric ran an appraising gaze over Eron, ensuring he'd dressed appropriately for the weather. His cloak should keep him warm.

What a risk this was. Kerric must be out of his mind. He'd tell himself that the stress of the past few days left them both in need of relief. That they'd simply be that release for each other.

Nothing more.

Kerric didn't feel the cold, as though he still wore the gargoyle's impenetrable stone skin. The moon shone high above, with a few thin clouds among the stars. He released Eron's hand, cupping the small of his back instead. The heat of Eron's skin seemed to penetrate even his clothing and the cloak.

"Be careful. I'll guide you," Kerric murmured into Eron's ear. "I probably see better than you do." Why hadn't he thought to bring a lantern?

Eron pulled a glowing light from under the neckline of his tunic, attached to a leather thong around his neck. "Miisov gave me this." The enchanted stone shone gently, illuminating the path without giving enough light to anyone observing from above. They just needed to watch for patrols.

"Do you remember the gardens?" Kerric asked. The guards would soon make their rounds, making the ramparts unsafe.

"Some," Eron replied, head cocked to the side at an appealing angle. "I recall a statue of a maid feeding geese and another of a shepherd. I always thought the shepherd watched the maid too closely."

"There is a legend about a shepherd and a goose girl. Look up." Kerric pointed. "Do you see that bright star? Now, follow it down. That's the shepherd's staff. And if you look over there, you'll see the girl." He looped a finger through the air, tracing out the figures from memory of his father having once done the same for him.

"I see them. The statues are like the stars?"

"Yes." Kerric tucked Eron against his side, a bold gesture for a mere guard with a royal, but Eron brought out his protective instincts. "The story is that your great-great-grandfather was set upon by thieves. The chaos separated him from his guards. He found himself alone in a strange place and followed the stars to find his way home. His queen had those statues created to honor the stars that had saved her husband."

"She cared for him? I know many royal marriages are for reasons other than love. I think my father and mother loved each other."

Kerric nodded, though Eron probably couldn't see the gesture. "Yes, they adored each other. As did your great-great-grandparents and your grandparents. Sadly, your great-grandsire was known as a womanizer. His queen despised him. With reason, I'm told. That king took many mistresses, Bain's mother among them. Unlike the others, though, Bain's mother was a titled noble, which both she and Bain believed gave him a right to the throne. He joined with your sister's husband to overthrow your father and have the family killed."

Eron whirled, pulling away. "My sister's husband was in on the plot?"

"He wasn't her husband then. Bain forced her to marry King Selin, likely in payment for his help."

"My sister was forced to marry our father's murderer? Bear him children?" Eron's outrage broke the stillness, scaring nightbirds into flight.

"Shh.… You must keep your voice down. There is no telling who might overhear." Kerric kept his voice low while still expressing his outrage. "Yes, your sister wed against her will, like many princesses before her. I'm told many noblewomen set their caps for your father with no force required, though. The men of your kin being, by and large, good husbands."

"Except for a few."

"Except for a few," Kerric agreed. "One whose indiscretion likely ruined your family line."

"If my father loved my mother, why did he remarry? He already had heirs."

"Your father married your mother for love. He was brokenhearted after she died and said he didn't want another queen. When his advisors pressured him to take another, he did so for political alliance, though Queen Jaidia's father was soon overthrown. He had hoped your father would send support, but it quickly became obvious he didn't deserve it. Your father didn't suffer fools and wouldn't join the cause of his new bride's father. Jaidia was ambitious and planned to give your father a new son who'd take Dafron's place as heir." Kerric's answer came from gossip and firsthand knowledge.

"But for that to happen, she'd have to kill Dafron. And me."

Kerric nodded. "I'm grateful that didn't happen. She is now married to Bain, creating a pair of snakes intent on surpassing each other with their depravity. She never gave birth, though the same could not be said for Bain's many mistresses."

They resumed walking, dead leaves crunching under their boots—leaves soon to be covered with snow once the weather turned cooler. Had snow already fallen in Splosia?

While Kerric hated getting out of bed into the cold—especially when warmed by a willing body—he loved the snow and the many holidays and festivals of the colder seasons. He recalled an incident in which Eron had dressed as a servant and snuck out to play with village children who slid down snowy hillsides on wide wooden planks.

Kerric had been dispatched to retrieve the errant prince but took his time. Eron's smiles and whoops of laughter had been a precious gift to a man with no family or prospects for one.

Eron stopped abruptly. "Captain Kerric. I remember now. You used to take me up to the ramparts. Let me look over my father's kingdom."

"Yes." Would Eron suddenly find him too old? What was he thinking? Most of the nobility wouldn't even consider a common guard like Kerric, let alone a prince, though several young lords and ladies once flirted for fun. Look at what happened to Dafron and Elzabai.

"You haven't aged, have you? I remember thinking how handsome you were in your uniform. But though you don't appear to have gotten older, your hair and eyes match the stone of the gargoyle—a silvery color."

"Even Miisov couldn't explain why."

"I always felt secure in your presence." Eron's words emerged on a nearly inaudible whisper.

"You can do so now, for I'm sworn to protect you." Warmth bloomed in Kerric's soul, knowing Eron had felt safe with him. He'd cut out his own heart before letting his prince down.

"Because you want to, or do you simply want to break the curse?" Eron added no accusation to the words. "I couldn't blame you if breaking the curse and freeing yourself and your men was your only reason."

Words stuck in this throat when Kerric opened his mouth, but the answer wasn't long coming. He dropped to one knee, glanced around carefully, and whispered on barely a breath, "Whether as a young noble or as you are now, I pledge my sword and my loyalty to you, Prince Eron Eritrescue, the rightful king of Hisar."

By moon and mage light, Kerric looked into Eron's intense gaze to see so much more than the expected bland expression and denials of wanting to be king. Eron held out a hand, helping Kerric to his feet. "Gods… the number of men who've fallen to their knees before me. What if I want more from you than your sword or loyalty?" He drew Kerric into a kiss.

Kerric should pull away. Nothing could come of this. They had plans to make, plans to thwart, and plans for Eron as king.

No, nothing could come of anything between them.

If Kerric understood this, why couldn't he pull away and stop kissing Eron? Instead, he wound his arms around Eron's sinewy body, pulling him close as though powerful arms alone could keep him from harm.

"The gazebo…" Eron retreated enough to whisper.

" What? "

"I just remembered a gazebo nearby my father had built for my mother. I once found a cook with a valet there." He grasped Kerric's hand, leading him deeper into the gardens.

The gazebo loomed ahead of them, draped in shadows and vines. Eron collapsed onto a bench, pulling Kerric along with him and resealing their mouths together.

Kerric's heart beat wildly from the thrill of being with this man and the fear of being caught. Old habits were hard to break, and he'd been berated roundly once for being in the royal gardens alone—though he'd been a mere lad.

Now, he was a full-grown man with another man in his arms. Warmth flooded the small space. "Wha…?"

Eron snickered. "That's why the maids liked to come here. It's been bespelled to be warm when occupied, even in the coldest of weather."

So, the legends of mages weaving spells into the castle's construction were true, not myth.

Eron dropped to his knees between Kerric's legs, tugging on his breeches while unlacing them with nimble fingers, and released Kerric's erection.

Before Kerric could stop him, Eron wrapped his warm mouth around Kerric's cock. Kerric moaned. It had been so damnably long, even before the curse. He hadn't the strength to fight, giving in to the exquisite torture of Eron's mouth, tongue, and ever so lightly, teeth, digging his fingers into the silken curls of Eron's dark hair.

He bucked upward, trying to be gentle, but every instinct cried out for more. His "I don't want to hurt you" might not have reached Eron's ears, but maybe so, for Eron released what might've been a laugh and went deeper, taking Kerric into his throat.

Oh, by every god or goddess ever worshipped! Kerric grew powerless to control his own body, rocking his hips along with Eron's energetic bobbing. He wouldn't last long, and he tightened his fingers in Eron's hair. "I'm close."

Eron hummed around his mouthful, the sound and vibration sending Kerric over the edge into ecstasy. He pulsed his seed into Eron's mouth, Eron taking every drop.

When at last Eron released Kerric's cock, Kerric pulled him upward, slammed their mouths together, and tasted his own spend. He had cum in the prince's mouth. No, the soon-to-be-king's mouth.

And loved every moment.

Eron rose, leaving Kerric seated on the bench. Sated and relaxed, Kerric brought his breathing back under control, undoing the placket of Eron's breeches to return the favor. The warm scent of Eron's skin threatened to send Kerric's flagging erection back to full hardness. Eron's heady groans nearly undid Kerric.

He lavished Eron's cock with his tongue, determined to give as much pleasure as he'd gotten. Eron's wiry groin hair tickled Kerric's nose as he dove, taking Eron deep.

If this would be his only encounter with Eron, Kerric planned to make it a memory not soon forgotten, especially while standing guard over this kingdom for eternity if things didn't go as they should.

They had to. Eron must live and become king, even if it meant Kerric must watch him marry a noblewoman and have children with her.

One hand on top of Kerric's head, Eron shoved forward, fucking Kerric's mouth. So forceful. No shy little lordling here. Kerric gripped Eron's hips as much to keep his balance as to urge Eron on, muscles flexing beneath his fingers.

Kerric lost himself in the moment, finally being with the highwayman who'd caught his attention. But Eron wasn't a highwayman, was he? A prince? A king?

A man seeking release in Kerric's mouth?

Kerric redoubled his efforts, running his tongue along the underside of Eron's cock, depending on moans and tightening fingers to tell him when he'd done right.

Based on the guttural sounds and Eron's firm grip, he liked it. A lot.

"Oh, gods! What you make me feel," Eron muttered, never losing his rhythm. "The way you take my cock into your mouth. Oh, yes. Oh, yes, yes, yes!" He threw back his head, unloading into Kerric's mouth, pulse after pulse.

Kerric kept sucking until Eron stopped shuddering and collapsed onto the bench. He bent down, yanked Kerric forward, and tasted himself on Kerric's tongue. Kerric could've stayed there forever, kissing Eron in the gazebo, away from curses, murderers, and commoner versus royalty.

For now, they were simply two men. Kerric couldn't speak for anyone else, but he'd become enamored of Eron ever since seeing him in the forest. Not Prince Eron, not even Lordling Night, just Eron, who'd lured Kerric to a secret trysting place.

They put their clothes to rights, and then Eron wrapped his cloak around them both. They traded kisses, holding each other close. Light snow fell outside their bubble of magical protection. A perfect moment. If they rose, if they moved, they'd break some kind of spell. Bad things waited outside their cocoon. Bad things Kerric didn't want to face at the moment and hoped Eron would never have to.

But they couldn't stay here forever.

They did, however, doze in each other's arms.

"Tell me about you," Eron murmured sleepily once they'd both awakened. "I know you're not originally from this kingdom, and your mother worked here, but little more."

"It's not too interesting a tale. My mother was a merchant's daughter from Splosia, who fell in love with a soldier and married against her father's wishes. Her parents disowned her. She came here to be with my father and bore three children, though I'm the only one to survive to adulthood."

"My mother lost several babes, too. That's the reason there's an age difference between me, Lessa, and Dafron. My mother died trying to give birth to my younger sister."

"I had heard from my mother about the queen's ill luck. I think that might be why they got along so well: the shared loss. After Father died in battle, your mother took pity and employed my mother as a personal servant. Mother learned social graces in her childhood and even maintained wealthy connections through relatives. I've visited Splosia many times, but never my grandparents. Then I joined the military at sixteen, moved up to king's guard at twenty, and worked my way to captain six summers later." Kerric dropped a kiss on the top of Eron's head. "And you? How did you come to live with Lady Kennestone?"

"Master Anthone, my tutor, woke me before dawn, had me dress in old clothes, and took me to the stables. I wish I knew what happened to him."

Kerric hated being the bearer of ill tidings. "He wouldn't tell Crau where you were, so Crau killed him." Eron didn't need to know about the whipping, which still haunted Kerric at times. Far too many hours he'd spent in his gargoyle form, hearing Anthone's whimpers and screams and wishing he could have helped.

Eron stiffened. "Oh, no! Too many good people gave their lives for mine. I hope to be worthy of their sacrifice one day."

Kerric gave Eron a reassuring squeeze. "You are already. What happened then?"

"The stable master disguised me as a commoner child and hid me in the forest. Soldiers came to kill him. He died protecting me." Eron paused for several moments, his hard swallows audible. "Kene came hoping to rescue Dafron and found me instead. She took me with her when she discovered she was too late to save my brother. Now, granted, I only recently rediscovered all this. I had little memory of my life here. But I've spent most of my time in Dillane, though I've visited Splosia."

"I thought there were hints in your accent. When you're with me, you seem to relax and don't sound so Estian."

"I'm afraid I didn't know many merchants."

"That's all right. My grandparents are long gone and of no consequence to me." Kerric had said those words so many times, mostly to appease others. How surprising to finally mean them. "What happened after Elzabai, I mean, Kene, rescued you?"

"She took me in and taught me all I needed to know to survive in the world."

"How to be a highwayman, you mean?"

Eron locked his gaze on Kerric's for several moments. "What I am about to tell you cannot be revealed. Swear it."

What could be so damaging as to require such an oath? "I swear."

"Kene is actually Lady Kennestone, Miisov's daughter. She runs an estate all on her own and never married. She was in love with Dafron."

Kerric wouldn't let on he already knew. "I remember the mage's daughter being friends with the royal children, but as a guard, I didn't know intimate details." That all sounded so much like the Elzabai Kerric remembered. To think she'd become the fierce Lord Night. And in the end, she tried to save her love but saved his brother instead.

Eron lowered his gaze, staring at the ground. "I'm told she had a fight with her father, and as it was understood that a prince couldn't marry her, she left for her mother's estate in Dillane. Couldn't they have considered her for Dafron, being a baroness's daughter?"

Kerric shook his head. "Not a foreign baroness's daughter, I'm afraid. And there would still be a scandal that her father was an untitled mage."

"Women can rule in Dillane. Can own businesses. I found it shocking Hisar doesn't allow them a place in their own right. My memories are still cloudy, but I think my great-grandmother on my mother's side ruled independently and led troops into battle. Several other women in my family were warriors, too."

"So, you were raised in a noble household, after all." Did Elzabai still practice magic, or had she denounced her mage heritage as she'd always threatened to?

"I was. But possibly because of her banishment and separation from Dafron and her hatred of those like Bain who abused their power, Kene continued the legend of Lord Night. She longed to make the nobility pay."

Many carriages arrived at the castle far lighter than when their nobles left home. "She must be quite wealthy."

"She is, but not from her stealing. King Bain overtaxes his subjects, leaving them little to survive on. What we steal goes to farmers and villagers, though few know Lord Night's true identity. Although she's from Dillane, she worries about the people of Hisar, having spent much of her childhood here."

"You would have inherited from her?"

Eron nodded. "That was her plan. Though she saved me for my brother's sake, we came to see each other as mother and son. Then Miisov visited in the night and ordered her to bring me here. I didn't know until then about her connection to Dafron. I'm sure I have memories of them together, but my past is coming back slowly. Too slowly."

"Miisov intends to break the curse and put a worthy king on the throne." Kerric had long lived for the moment Bain received his comeuppance. Crau too.

"I don't know how worthy I might be. So many people are putting their faith in me, hoping I'll take power and be a better king than Bain—which wouldn't be hard to do, from what I've heard. But I don't want to rule Hisar. I'd rather inherit Kene's modest estate and live my life unrestricted. A king has too many duties, must watch himself at all times, and weigh every decision on how it will affect him politically. No, thank you."

"I'd never really considered what it must be like for a prince or a king. Commoners romanticize those roles and believe a king is wealthy with no problems. As I grew older, I realized they still had problems, just different ones."

"Have you ever wanted to be more than a soldier or guard?" Eron asked.

Had Kerric ever had aspirations for more? "Actually, I don't believe so. I loved my father dearly, thought he could do no wrong, and wanted to be just like him. I wish he were still here, but on the other hand, I'd hate for him to see me cursed for failing my duty."

"You didn't fail your duty. Though I may not know you well, I believe I know you well enough to say with confidence that you'd fight with your final breath for what is right."

Eron's words made Kerric sit straighter. He'd thought of himself as a failure for so long that praise came as a balm for the soul, especially praise from Eron. "Maybe. But I still think I should have seen Crau's duplicity."

"Why should you have when even my father and brother did not?"

Good point, and something Kerric never considered before. "But I swore to protect them."

Eron took Kerric's hands between his own. "And you did. You didn't fail. Don't take Crau's sins onto yourself. While I do not want this role, to set you and your men free from the curse, I will be glad to do so if you'll be there every step of the way."

"I will fight for you, Your Highness, with every fiber of my being, even knowing I'll never be able to kiss you again."

Eron regarded Kerric with a wrinkled brow. "Why not?"

"Because you'll be king, and I'll be a guard. It's the situation with Lady Kennestone and Prince Dafron all over again."

"I won't let that happen." Eron closed the distance for another kiss.

Kerric vanished into the dawn.