The son of the Captain of the Guard of a ruthless lord makes the mistake of publicly professing love to the lord’s daughter. To set an example, the lord has the boy savagely beaten and exiled, the guardsman father stripped of all honors and left destitute, the rebellious daughter soon married off to an elderly lord of a different fiefdom to secure an alliance for her father. The exiled son, nursing his wounds and a fresh seething hatred for nobility, takes a dark path to manhood, hitching his fate to an ambitious band of mercenaries led by a charismatic leader with dreams of upending the natural order and creating a new kingdom from its dust. Years later, that dream has been realized. The ruling lords have fallen. A new kingdom has been born. The exiled son has become the towering knight commander of the new kingdom’s army, completely loyal to its freshly crowned High King. The conquered nobility have either been outright executed or broken as slaves in harsh training camps, auctioned to the highest bidders to fill the High King’s coffers. The new king has heard the tale of the origins of his surly knight commander. To reward his knight’s loyalty and service, the king arranges a special gift – possession of the ruthless lord’s daughter, who has suffered her own trials.
Derek cut briskly into his meal, sawing his knife much more violently than needed, trying his best to ignore the High King’s hand upon Elspeth’s body or the impulse to break it. Trying his best to ignore the pale, casually bared body attached to that offending hand. The loose waterfall of golden ringlets, the familiar green eyes turned down demurely, the soft face of an angel. Her stance held an artistry of presentation. Shoulders back, chest forward, back arched to emphasize the pleasing curves of narrowed waist and rounded hips, a knee slightly raised, foot on tiptoes, small breasts that defied gravity, pink tips tight in the chill, open air. She wore a white strip of silk that hid nothing, a glittering collar of gold round her neck.
“But allow me to return to my original line of questioning,” said High King Blackbourne. “Tell me, Sir Derek, after turning down all the slaves, the marriage proposals, the riches, the titles, all the lands and keeps, the estates I’ve shown you, why show such an interest in something now? In this one woman?”
Derek finished chewing his present bite viciously, vowing he wouldn’t answer the godsdamned door next time for a summons such as this. There were a dozen other things he could be doing this moment. He could have been training in the practice yard, inspecting his men, arranging the logistics for the next march, strategizing the next keep to conquer. He would have rather been surrounded by a screaming enemy horde than sitting here, having a delicious breakfast with a mostly naked woman easily in his sight fondled by his king – a woman he once spent countless sleepless nights agonizing over.
“I...” Derek hesitated. He broke off a crust of bread and shoved it into his mouth, chewing with the beginnings of a scowl darkening his brow. After he’d swallowed and washed it down with wine, he muttered, “I was a ward of her father’s House. My father was Lord Conteville’s Captain of the Guard. She and I … grew up together. She was ... kind to me, then. And I do not wish to see her harmed now.”
“I see,” said the king with a small nod. Blackbourne frowned a curious frown, toying with a grape with the tongs on his fork. He finally speared the sphere of fruit and popped it into his mouth. He chewed, swallowed. Then his eyes settled on Derek again.
“Do you recall when we first met?” Blackbourne said. “What you told me that day?”
Derek sliced another piece of pork with his knife. “That was some years ago, Your Grace. My memory fades,” he muttered. But he knew. Two moments in his life stood above all others. Turning points. One was the day he’d been exiled from Conteville’s lands, furious and lost. The other was the day he had been found and given new purpose.
Blackbourne chuckled, and that faraway look overcame his features again. “Ah... you were a sight that day,” he said fondly. “What was that village’s name? Hallington’s Meadow, wasn’t it? My men attacked, and you came storming from that tavern with a rusted sword doubtless filched from a pauper’s crypt. You roared like a lion as you attacked, you in those stinking tattered rags with that ridiculous bushy beard. You were so far drunk you could barely stand straight, yet you slew five of my best men before they could restrain you.”
Blackbourne’s words evoked distinct memories. The thrill of battle, the obscenely satisfying pleasure of gutting men that meant to kill you. The rage that had all but consumed him, until he had nothing left but the undying will to survive.
“With your skill, I knew you were no common farmer with a lucky swing. You were obviously trained and trained well. Perhaps the most formidable man I have ever seen. Do you recall what I asked you as my men pinned you with blades tickling your throat red?”
Derek recalled. He took a long draught of wine, his expression darkening.
“I asked you what had brought an exceptional warrior to such a sorry state,” said Blackbourne, watching Derek acutely. “Remember the answer you gave? I do. A woman, you said.”
Derek grew very still, his dark stare fixed on the table.
“Is this she?” inquired Blackbourne, nodding his head towards Elspeth.
When Derek didn’t stir or answer, the king smiled. “Allow me to guess,” Blackbourne murmured. “The young Lady gave her favor to a forbidden young suitor, and then shunned him when he was no longer convenient to her purpose? Hm? A story oft told.”
It wasn’t like that. Not completely. It was … complex. There was more ... But Derek couldn’t find his tongue or muster the strength to refute Blackbourne now.
“She is that lady no longer, my knight,” Blackbourne said, a quiet intensity in his voice. “No longer that lying, deceitful woman who used you as a passing fancy, then washed her hands of you. Her hauteur has been whipped from her in my slave camps. Do not let the past manipulations of this weak creature continue to chain you. Day in and day out, I see your misery. Any other man in your place would have asked for a lordship by now. Lands, a castle, fortunes, a Lady wife. With as many lords as you have deposed for me, you could have your pick. But you ask for nothing. Nothing but your wage and your place in battle. It’s past time you free yourself from your suffering. Time you fully embrace my vision and view this creature precisely for what she is. Not a Lady blessed with blood more precious than you or I. Not a woman born with the divine right to rule or refuse such men as we. She is nothing more than a slave, my knight. As she was ever meant to be. A collection of pretty holes and slim hands to serve.”
With that hand on Elspeth’s hip, Blackbourne gave her a small push towards Derek, and the High King addressed her directly. “Crawl to my knight, kitten. Unlace his breeches, take his cock in that lovely little mouth, and drain him of his concerns. I see he still doubts me.”
Derek’s chair scraped as he started to stand. “That won’t be necessary, Your Gr-”
”Sit. Down.”
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