Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

Regan

B oredom had driven me from my quarters again. I roamed the castle halls with no real destination in mind, just a driving need to do something other than sitting in my quarters. For years, I’d spent hours every day training with my sword and teaching others how to wield the steel. Already after only a few days, my body felt stiff from disuse. Even when I trained every day and drove myself to the brink of exhaustion, there was always a restlessness just below my surface. Without the daily training, that restlessness was strong enough to drive me mad.

I was not meant to sit around with nothing but my thoughts. I needed the clash of steel, the metallic scent of blood, and the thrill of victory as I defeated my opponent. If I could not do those things, then what good was I? As Eastolf repeatedly reminded me, I had no valuable skills beyond the sword. I was neither intelligent nor quick-witted enough to be more than what I was - his protector.

I turned right and inhaled deeply, a familiar sweet scent tickling my nose. I had not seen the little female, Lomax, since I rescued her from the tree two days ago, and my footsteps quickened almost of their own accord.

Her scent grew more potent, and, along with it, my eagerness to see her. I turned left at the end of the hallway, my steps slowing. The small female stood in the hallway, but a Draax was with her. He stood too close, almost as though she belonged to him. When he reached out and casually brushed a strand of her long dark hair from her face, jealousy and a possessiveness I had no right to feel nearly drowned me.

I stomped toward them, barely able to stop my tail from snapping out to wrap around her waist as I joined them. Lomax gave me a startled look. “Regan, hi.”

“Step back from the small one,” I growled at the Draax. “You stand too close and are making her nervous.”

The Draax frowned and took a step back. “I apologize, little female. I did not mean to frighten you.”

“You didn’t, Bitta,” Lomax said, giving me a strange look.

“You touched her without her permission,” I said, that jealousy still pulsing in my belly.

“She did not mind,” Bitta said.

A growl erupted from my throat, and I rested my hand where my sword should have been. Bitta tracked the movement before he arched an eyebrow at me. “Do all eastern Draax act so foolish around the little females, or is it just you?”

My nostrils flared, and my desire to teach the impudent Draax a lesson surged through me. I would have, too, if it were not for Lomax.

She rested one hand on my arm, and that simple touch soothed the restlessness that always lurked below my skin. I forgot my anger with Bitta and stared at her hand. It was so tiny and fragile on my arm, her soft skin looking smooth and pale against my rough green skin.

How would that soft tiny hand feel around my cock? Krono help me, I wanted to know.

Bitta still gave me an insolent look, but I stared at Lomax as she said, “Bitta and I are friends, Regan. He isn’t scaring me or doing anything I don’t want him to do.”

“There, you see?” Bitta said smugly.

I didn’t reply, and after a moment, Bitta said, “I have a meeting I must attend, but would you like to have dinner with me in my quarters this evening, Lomax?”

“She is having dinner with me,” I growled out.

Lomax’s hand squeezed my arm, and she gave me a blank look of surprise. “I am?”

“Yes,” I said. “You are.”

Bitta studied me and then Lomax before making a short bow. “Another time then, perhaps, little female.”

He turned and walked away. Lomax still gripped my arm, and she stared at Bitta’s retreating back before staring at her hand. To my dismay, she dropped my arm and crossed hers over her torso, hugging herself nervously.

“You want to have dinner with me tonight?”

I hesitated, my jealousy fading and my common sense returning now that the other Draax was gone. Krono, what was I doing? I could not be alone with the little female. Who knows what I would do to her?

You know precisely what you would do to her. Strip her naked and bury your tongue in her pussy until she begs you to fuck her.

My cock was half-hard, and I prayed to Krono she wouldn’t notice the bulge at my crotch as she stared up at me. “Regan? You want to have dinner with me?”

I grimaced. “I shouldn’t have… that is…”

Shame bloomed on her face, and she gave me a half-hearted smile.

“No, right, I get it. The head of the king’s guard shouldn’t be seen with someone like me, even if this isn’t your castle.”

She backed away, and I shook my head. “Small one, no, that is not -”

“Don’t worry about it,” she said with that half-smile and eyes that looked suspiciously bright. “I totally get it. Bye, Regan.”

She practically ran down the hall, disappearing around the corner like a groden was after her.

“Fuck,” I snarled out the Earth curse before turning and punching the wall. The stone was solid and unforgiving, and I cursed again as I grabbed my now broken hand.

“What has you so upset you would punch stone, king’s guard?”

I whirled around, staring at Galan as the pain pulsed and throbbed in my hand. “None of your business.”

He grinned, obviously amused rather than insulted by my surly tone. “Come now, we are all friends here. Tell me what troubles you.”

“Perhaps it is that I am expected to do nothing but sit in my quarters or roam these hallways like a lost child for an entire moon,” I snarled. “If I had known your king’s castle was so boring, I would have demanded Sigan and the others leave me on Earth.”

Galan’s grin turned into a laugh, and I was annoyed by my inability to bait him into a fight. “Come then, king’s guard. We will get some juice to heal your hand, and then I will find a cure for your boredom.”

He shrugged at my suspicious look. “Or you can return to your quarters and nurse your broken hand and grumpy mood. It matters not to me.”

He turned and walked away, and with a final muttered curse, I followed him.

* * *

I couldn’t hide my joy when Galan led me into the training room. I inhaled deeply, and the scent of blood, sweat, and steel was familiar and welcoming.

As the Draax sparred, I watched with an eagerness that was all too apparent. Galan stood beside me, studying his guard as they fought with ruthless efficiency.

“Come,” he said to me, and I followed him as he slowly walked the room's perimeter.

His guard fought well, and I itched to hold a sword in my hand as Galan slowed to a stop in front of two Draax, both covered in sweat and blood.

The one on the left glanced over at us, his sword lowering slightly, and then bellowed in pain when his opponent’s sword sliced across his side. He clamped his hand across his ribs and glared at the Draax before backing away.

“Krono, Henden! Are you trying to slice me in half?”

“It’s not my fault you are so easily distracted, Reje,” Henden said as he wiped the streaks of green blood from his blade.

Reje snarled an Earth curse as Galan motioned for him to join us. Looking ashamed and angry, Reje approached us, stopping in front of Galan as blood slid out from under his hand.

His tail thumped on the floor, and I waited for Galan to chastise him for his mistake. Such carelessness and distraction were not fitting for a king’s guard, and if it had been one of mine, the entire room would know of my anger with him.

To my surprise, Galan clapped Reje on the back and said, “Your form has much improved, Reje. I see the hard work you are putting in has paid off.”

“Thank you, Galan,” Reje said. “I meet with Krey twice a week as you suggested, and his guidance has helped immensely.”

“Good,” Galan said. “I am glad to hear it.

Reje hesitated. “I still struggle with keeping my focus.”

“You do,” Galan said, but his voice was not angry or disappointed. “Do you know the little female Molly? She works in the garden.”

“I know of her,” Reje said, his voice full of confusion.

“Twice a week, she teaches meditation in the garden for anyone who wants to learn. I want you to join her class,” Galan said.

Reje glanced at me and then back to Galan. “You want me to meditate?”

“I do,” Galan said. “It will help you to learn to clear your mind while you fight and improve your focus. There is a class tonight. I will let Molly know you will be there.”

“Yes, Galan,” Reje said.

Galan clapped him on the shoulder. “Good. Go to the infirmary and have Sigan look at your wound.”

“It is only a scratch,” Reje said with another furtive look at me. “I can continue.”

“No, you cannot,” Galan said firmly.

With a resigned nod, Reje left the training room. Galan pointed to a Draax doing drills against a fabric dummy on the far side of the room. “Henden, you can partner with Sergel. Use the wooden swords, please.”

As Henden walked away, I couldn’t help but ask, “You use wooden swords?”

Galan nodded. “Sergel is a new recruit, and while he has great potential and skill, Henden is one of my best and most merciless fighters, even against his own kind. We use wooden swords with the recruits to protect them from serious injury.”

I frowned. “But why? The threat and pain of a serious injury make them more skilled in a shorter time, does it not?”

“We want our guards' skills to improve because they are dedicated to their training, not because they fear injury,” Galan said, “even if their training takes a little longer because of it.”

“And your king approves of this?” It was Eastolf I thought of and his insistence that the guard put on weekly shows for his enjoyment, and how he forced my guard to fight until they were bruised, bloodied, and battered.

“It was Quill who first implemented the use of wooden swords when he was the head of the king’s guard,” Galan said.

He grinned at my look of surprise before starting to walk again. “Come, king’s guard, let us walk the room again.”

I followed silently as Galan walked the room, stopping to study his men as they fought. He called out suggestions to some and made corrections to others. His voice was kind and he didn’t shame them or lose patience, even with those who made repeated mistakes.

I watched as he patiently showed the same maneuver repeatedly to a Draax, staying calm and encouraging even as the Draax struggled to learn it.

I flexed my broken hand, the sharp bite of pain distracting me from the shame I felt. My techniques for training the king’s guard were barbaric and savage compared to Galan’s, and I envied how his men looked at him with respect, not fear.

Galan joined me again, nodding in satisfaction when the Draax successfully repeated the maneuver against his opponent. “Good, Nerlai. Now do that ten more times.”

The Draax groaned but nodded as his opponent grinned at him. “Come, Nerlai, let us see if you are successful another ten times.”

“How is your hand?” Galan asked.

“Healing,” I said. We had stopped at the infirmary, and Sigan gave me a few bottles of juice.

Galan stopped in front of the cold storage unit and took out another bottle of juice. He handed it to me without speaking, and I drank it as we walked another few feet.

“Tell me, king’s guard,” Galan raised his voice to be heard over the clash of steel and the grunts of the guard, “are there any suggestions you wish to make after observing the guard?”

I stared at him in surprise. “You wish for my opinion?”

“Yes,” Galan said. “You are the head of the king’s guard and an incredible fighter. I would value your insight and knowledge.”

“How do you know that I am skilled at fighting?” I asked.

Galan laughed. “One does not become head of the guard by being a bad fighter, and I have heard the rumours of your skill. You are one of the best warriors in the continent, Regan, and it does you no favour to pretend otherwise.”

I grunted in reply, determined not to show how pleased I was by his statement. I studied the fighting Draax instead before saying, “That one there, he always leads with his left foot. An observant opponent will pick up on it quickly, leading to a sword in his belly.”

Galan watched the Draax fight for a few minutes before nodding. “You are right. What else have you observed?”

I pointed out a few other things, and Galan listened intently before saying, “Thank you, Regan. I appreciate your feedback and I know my guard would as well. Would you be comfortable working with a few of them this afternoon with your suggestions?”

Another wave of surprise washed over me, and I stared at him. “You wish for me to assist you in training your guard?”

“If you like. It will save you from boredom, and my men will benefit from your wisdom and experience.”

When I didn’t reply, he said, “I understand if you would prefer not to. Our kings are not,” he paused, “friendly, and I suspect your king would not be so keen to have his head of guard training those in the west.”

“Perhaps your king would not approve of my observation of your training techniques,” I said.

Galan shook his head. “My king has nothing to hide. He knows that combining our knowledge and training techniques can only strengthen both our guard.”

He clapped me on the shoulder. “But I will not ask you to go against your king’s demands so -”

“I would be happy to help,” I said before I could think too hard about my reply.

“Good.” Galan whistled piercingly, and the Draax stopped their training. They studied Galan and me as their big bodies shone with sweat and heaved for oxygen.

“This is Regan, head of the eastern king’s guard. He has agreed to honour us with his knowledge and his skills. I ask that you treat him with the same respect you show me as he offers advice and training tips.”

To my surprise, none of the Draax argued over Galan’s announcement.

Galan called over the Draax who led with his left foot. “Ilna, Regan has some suggestions for your footwork.”

The Draax gave me a friendly look. “I would be glad to hear it.”

“Then I will leave you to it.” Galan nodded to me and walked away.

Determined to be as patient and supportive as Galan in his training techniques, I smiled at the Draax before me. “Your form is excellent, but you lead too often with your left.”

“I know,” Ilna said, “but my balance suffers if I lead with my right foot.”

“Show me,” I said, leading him back to his opponent.