Knight's End: A Reverse Harem Fantasy (Tangled Crowns Book 3), page 3
“Thank you,” I mumbled. She nodded and moved to the next person.
Once she’d restored us all to normal, we walked a bit, leaving the puddle of sick, and going closer to our gargoyles. I leaned up against one’s stiff back as my knights all caught their breath, recovering from Connor’s accidental overdose.
“So, we all have new powers. And we’re all shite at them. Promising,” Connor murmured.
I tried to be encouraging. “It’s better than what we thought an hour ago. That you had no powers at all.”
Connor simply raised a brow as Ryan choked back another round of dry heaving. Cerena’s spell must not have completely settled his huge body.
“Is it? Or is it just giving us false hope?”
I swallowed hard and pressed my lips together. I hoped what Connor said wasn’t right. I hoped that my knights could learn their new powers quickly and adjust. That magic that had taken each of them years to master could somehow—magically—take only hours or days. Ugh. I was wishing for the impossible.
A roar interrupted my thoughts, and I glanced sharply to the side, eyeing the gargoyles. They stood as still and unmoving as ever, even the one I leaned against.
The bellow sounded again, and I glanced behind us through the trees. But nothing was there. It was only when Blue tapped my shoulder and pointed straight up that I realized where the sound was coming from. Isla’s flying bears shot overhead. They were in perfect triangular wedge formation, an attack formation I'd studied many times with my mother. And the bears were headed straight toward our capital.
I stumbled through the mud toward the nearest gargoyle. I scrambled onto its back, scratching my hands in the process. "Fly." I commanded. "Take them down."
The creature flapped its wings and I rose into the sky. But not a single other gargoyle rose up with me. My own flying gargoyle didn't heed my second command. I pointed desperately toward the bears that were now receding in the distance, "Attack!"
My gargoyle did not spring forward. He continued to hover just above the tree line, letting me watch as the bears formed a diving formation and swooped downward into the Cerulean forest. Was that just at the border? I could only imagine the terror of my poor villagers.
Another gargoyle finally rose next to me, Ryan perched on its back. "They haven't been trained," he said.
I groaned in frustration. I had no idea how to train a gargoyle. My mother had only given orders. The training had been left to our beast master and our generals.
"What do we do?" I asked frantically. The bears were on their way. Our castle would be next, I was certain.
Ryan shook his head and struggled with his own mount for a moment. His gargoyle tended to list to the right, and he had to verbally correct it and then yank on its neck in order to get it to straighten out and hover at the same height as mine. "Most of our fleet of gargoyles were destroyed when I was a teen. Other than our two old gargoyles, who were already trained, I've never worked with them before. I never trained on gargoyle formations or battle techniques because it was always thought that wizards created the old gargoyles. We thought no one else had enough power to recreate them."
Sard. Ignorance was a blow I didn’t need. My knights had powers they didn’t know how to use, and now we had these beasts, these aerial stones that could act as both attack animals and turn back into boulders to act as huge projectiles. They were fire resistant, resistant to most magics, a boon. Quinn had suffered to give us one of the greatest aerial weapons possible. But not one of us knew how to use them.
I wanted to scream in frustration.
I have a kingdom to protect. How the sarding hell am I going to do that? I wondered.
My heart fell to the earth, as heavy as the stones that had made our gargoyles. Sarding magic. For all the good it did, I once again felt helpless.
Chapter Three
We finally figured out how to fly. It took nearly three hours and it wasn't pretty. It also wasn't in any sort of combat formation. Isla’s bears could have flown to the edge of Evaness by then. We had no hope of catching them. No hope of stopping them. We could only focus on what we could do at that moment—learn to fly. As Ryan pointed out, you could only win the battle at hand. You couldn’t worry about things beyond your reach.
“The castle’s frozen. The militias have been mobilized,” he told me. “We need to do what we can to make the most of this opportunity. We need to get these gargoyles to fly.”
Each of my knights straddled a beast and took turns taking off and falling off the stubborn creatures, most of whom refused to touch back down to the ground to let us dismount. We had to slide off and try not to face-plant in the slippery mud.
Connor did his best to heal whatever bruises he could under Ryan’s coaching, but more often than not he created too much new skin, until we had raised, itchy, patchy sections of flesh. Cerena ended up with a raised patch on her chin that looked as thick as a mole. Declan started refusing healing altogether, stating that the bruises were preferable.
We coaxed the beasts like they were stubborn toddlers. They required constant direction, threats, and enticements. We pooled our knowledge of Evaness’ old gargoyles, Shire and Hazilla. We had all ridden on them before, Declan sparingly, but those gargoyles had been trained extensively, ridden for nearly fifty years. Those gargoyles were like the best trained horses. They only needed a nudge to head in the right direction.
These new gargoyles had to constantly be reminded of their purpose, their mission, even which direction to head. Gestures alone didn't work to control them. We were all constantly muttering commands: "Forward, up, lean left." They were often distracted by things like clouds.
On a practice circle over the forest, my stupid shite of a gargoyle spotted a creek and attempted to barrel roll through it. With me on its back.
“Up!” I screeched, as soon as we surfaced, half-drowned by some shallow rapids. The water was ice-cold, even at midday, because winter was rapidly making its way toward the seven kingdoms.
After the creek incident, I decided newborn gargoyles were quite exhausting and exasperating.
Declan seemed to have the worst trouble with his mount. It appeared his gargoyle was lazy and didn’t like to fly high. It was constantly skimming the trees with its wings.
Ryan wouldn’t let anyone ride with me for security reasons. “Better if more of us can block and protect you,” he said. So, I rode alone, though some of my knights doubled up. Quinn, since he had just discovered he could speak and couldn’t yell himself raw commanding an idiot gargoyle, rode with Cerena. Blue, since his speech could be impaired by his new power at any moment if he listened to a thought, rode with Ryan.
Our five beasts put us through a battle of wills that made me swear I never wanted children the next time we took a break and sat.
I sat on a stump and wailed, “Magical infants are the worst. I’m never having any. Hear me now. None!”
My knights had only laughed at that.
Blue had said, “We can just give the kids away. Maybe as tournament prizes. ‘Congratulations. Your skill with the sword has earned you a year of swaddling.’”
“No one would ever enter a tournament again,” Ryan said.
“Good, then I’d never have to sit through another one,” Declan contributed.
Connor said, “That’s what nannies are for.”
Declan added, “Or we can give the kids to foreign nations. Send them off for some treaty when they start throwing fits. That’ll teach them.” He joked, but there was a bitter undertone of reality to his words. He hadn’t been a toddler throwing fits, but he’d been sent away by his mother, an embarrassing bastard child the Sedarians hadn’t wanted to see. Of course, they’d sent him to protect Avia, too. But he hadn’t known that. He’d only known he’d been sent off like some poor pig to slaughter.
My Declan had been hurt by that. It still hurt him. It ripped me to pieces to know that it still ate at him. I couldn’t stand that. He was worth so much more. And knowing how he used to hurt himself, how much self-loathing he used to carry because of it—my hands curled into fists.
I clambered off my beast, fought sliding into a split in the mud pit, and went to him on his gargoyle. I held up my hands. He had to pull me up, because his gargoyle was a bit too tall for me to mount on my own.
Once I was seated behind him, I wrapped my arms around his waist, leaned my cheek against his back. I tried to picture our lovemaking in my mind, and how utterly and intensely adored he was. I tried to pull those emotions up so he could feel the truth of my words.
His hand settled around mine and squeezed when I said, “Nope. Never sending our kids off. That would be a very foolish thing to do. Our kid would probably be a genius. And grow to love that other kingdom so much that he felt like it was home instead. And he might just become a national treasure there, with his own holiday, and—”
“Excuse me, getting jealous over here,” Blue called out. “How come I’m not a national treasure? And what’s this holiday business? How do you get your own holiday? Do you all have holidays? I’ve got a shite parent, too.” He sent us all a mental image of Sultan Raj and then opened his mouth to complain again, but nothing came out.
I laughed and sent him a mental image of himself wearing a jester’s hat and saying, Duh-oh, I forgot I can’t talk. His jester-self started dancing a jig, his long hair bouncing up and down on his shoulders.
He lifted his hand from his gargoyle’s neck to shake a fist at me but laughed.
I gave Declan a quick squeeze and a kiss, before sliding down and going to sit in front of my new husband, who’d moved his gargoyle close.
I hated the thought of any of them feeling left out. Or jealous. Not when we needed to bond and work together—not when so much was at stake. I also got the added benefit that Blue was much better than I was at controlling his gargoyle during our practice flights. Or he had been before I climbed on with him, anyway.
When we took off for another round of flying, his movements were far more jerky.
I wondered if he was nervous. I was. Sitting in front of him made my stomach swoop with jitters just as much as the rise and fall of his gargoyle did. I knew him, but I didn’t. I knew his bird-self, a silly companion I’d grown fond of. But I didn’t really know Blue—the man. Not compared to the knights that I’d known for years.
I think he felt nervous too, because though I felt his excitement as he grew against me, he carefully backed his hips away, like he was embarrassed.
I sent him a mental image of us kissing. Of his hand sliding into my shirt and cupping my breast.
He sent me one back of him yanking my shirt down to my waist, freeing my breasts, placing his mouth on my nipples.
A rush of heat went through me.
“Whoa!” Connor yelled from his gargoyle beside us. “Do you want us all to crash? Don’t be sending those thoughts midair!”
I giggled, “Guess you thought-projected that to the whole group.”
Dammit, Blue thought at me. I wish I had a handle on this thought-talk thing. It’s difficult.
You’ll get there.
Our naughty thought exchange ended, but I tried to get to know him a little, by asking questions as he tried to steer his stubborn gargoyle in a circle.
What is your favorite childhood memory?
Blue pictured the day he arrived at the barracks on the border, far from his father. I watched him look at his own youthful expression in the mirror when he arrived and placed his few belongings under a window. He’d been skinny then. He hadn’t had much muscle tone or any tattoos—those clearly came from his time in the military. But his young face was still handsome with his thick black brows, straight nose, and thick lips. I had never pictured him without his beard, but his jawline was strong, with just a hint of stubble.
How old were you?
Sixteen.
Blue’s thoughts from that memory rolled through both of us as his commanding officer arrived and he stood at attention. He was a disgraced prince, not powerful enough to inherit. He watched the judgement in the officer’s eyes, tensing.
“Well, you’re a skinny mite, we’re gonna need to change that. But, no worries, you’ll be prime pickings for the brothel ladies in no time. Just lay off Halea, she’s mine. She tells you different, she’s just trying to piss me off.”
Blue’s shock had been complete. But his memory of the hope and immediate fondness for his commanding officer shone through the memory.
“I’m here to work hard, sir,” Blue had said.
“Good. You can go for a run, then meet me in the practice ring.”
The memory faded.
I squeezed Blue’s hand. Thank you for sharing.
Will … would you mind sharing something? Blue’s thoughts lacked the confident bravado of his words. His joking persona was gone, and inside, in his thoughts, I felt like I might be getting a hint of the real him, the insecure man beneath the mask of happiness.
I thought for a minute, deciding between memories. But ultimately I picked the first memory I had of Avia playing with me. I’d hovered over her cradle, trying yet another round of peekaboo. Her little brown hair had still had tiny baby curls at the end. Her little double chin had been adorable. And that day, that random day, I’d snuck into her nursery and away from my studies. I tried peekaboo for the millionth time—she’d been disinterested, or napping, or crying, every other time. But that day was the first time she giggled. My sweet little sister had laughed at me, and it had been a soul-stealing sound—that sweet, hiccup-sounding baby laughter.
Anyone who could hear that giggle and not fall immediately in love is a gargoyle, I thought at Blue.
You and your sister got along then?
I nodded. I used to joke that Avia was my better half. The good sister. She’s always been sweet and perfect. I was always a bit pig-headed. But she was so thoughtful. She used to give all the servants flowers on their birthday.
I brought up a memory of that and showed Blue an eight-year-old version of my sister, skipping down the hall and giving a daffodil to a maid who was up on a stepstool, dusting a painting. The simple flower had brought tears to the woman’s eyes.
I … don’t really know anyone like that, Blue admitted.
She’s one of a kind, I thought longingly. My chest ached a bit for her. And while Blue couldn’t feel my sadness, I guess I still projected my thoughts. My mind shifted to the last moment I’d seen her, when she’d been snatched by Blue’s shapeshifting dragon brother, before being carried off into the sky.
His hands tightened on my waist.
Our conversation had made Blue lose a bit of concentration concerning his gargoyle, and we found ourselves floating high in the air above the rest. He turned his attention to our willful beast, and I turned my thoughts back to the impending war. We didn’t speak again, but he did scoot a bit closer. And he didn’t try to hide from me when the friction of riding and pressing against one another naturally made him hard.
When we took a break, he helped me off the gargoyle with a shy smile. “Thank you.”
I leaned forward and pecked him on the cheek, a tingle running through my toes. “No, thank you.”
We’d joined the others and sat on a fallen tree trunk, debating what we should do next.
“Clearly, these beasts aren’t what we hoped,” Declan was brutally honest. “I don’t think we can defend the castle in any meaningful way with them yet. Not until they’re trained.”
“Would anyone know how to train them?” I asked.
“Jace might,” Ryan responded. Our castle’s beast master was an old grizzled man. And he had been around since childhood, so perhaps he did know.
“Someone should go for him,” Connor said. “Bring him here.”
“You want to split up?” Cerena asked.
“I don’t want Bloss exposed to whatever attack is going on there. If we bumble in on five of these monsters,” Connor gestured at our mounts, “we aren’t going to be effective at protecting her.”
“Agreed,” Ryan said. “I’ll go.”
Blue piped up. “Actually, I’ve been thinking. The sea witch, fairy woman …”
“Sea sprite,” Cerena piped up. “That monster, by the sound of it, is a sea sprite. Nasty creatures. At least they have the decency to be rare.” She grumbled as she hauled over a flat rock and set it on the tree trunk. She grabbed a pouch at her hip, opened it, pulling out a small tin jar the size of her palm. She yanked at the tiny handle on the lid to open it, and sprinkled a powder from inside onto the stone. She muttered a spell over it. We paused our conversation to watch. Soon, she’d magicked up six small, dense loaves of bread.
Blue grabbed his too soon, burning his fingers. “Ah!”
Cerena chided, “You couldn’t wait another minute?”
“This is the first food I’ve had in human form in weeks!” he protested.
“Ah, well then,” she waved him on. “Go on.”
Blue took a bite and sighed like he’d gone to heaven. “Amazing.”
Everyone chuckled as they took their own loaf. Even Quinn.
His chuckle was a soft, breathy matter. Hearing it made me scoot closer and bump him with my shoulder. I leaned up and whispered in his ear. “I can’t wait until you learn to say my name.”
His eyes shone back down at me, full of everything he would say if he could.
I pecked his cheek and then took another bite of bread.
Connor leaned forward in his spot and asked Blue, “What did you want to say about that sea sprite?”
“Well, she thinks she killed Bloss, right? Because Declan looked like her at the time. So … if she’s told her allies, then my father and Rasle’s queen—”
“Isla,” I supplied the old vulture’s name.
Blue turned his clever gaze on me. “They all think you’re dead. I just wonder … how can we use that to our advantage?”
Quinn leaned forward, his first attempt to participate in the group conversation. His eyes were alight as he drew a slow, steady finger across his neck.
