Page 5 of The Scouts

The Countess of Riyön—the woman who’d replaced the baroness in Queen Nae’amh’s bed and at court as the royal mistress—was a Féyes by birth. Treating the countess’ clansman like a pleasure slave was akin to slapping her rival in the face. Petty and over-elaborate for sure, but such thinly veiled slights constituted a currency in which the courtiers settled old scores.

I balled my hands into fists, unable to contain my rage. “Ê shini d’kanyö e fãkku,” I muttered.

Lochan hummed his agreement. While he still struggled with the Mountain Dialect, he’d made astonishing progress with the expletives.

The commander forked his hand through his hair. “We need the damn woman to talk. Now. Any further delay tips the balance in favour of the Magic Supremacists. The last thing we want is for the bastards to gain more support and organisation. They’re a headache as it is. I don’t need to remind you who we’re dealing with here, do I? Not just regular fanatics, but ones able to blow shit up with their minds. How many Elven lives will be at stake if this spreads into domestic unrest? Remember the bloodbath in Ëlzebern? I’m not risking a repeat. We must nip it in the bud.”

“Yes, sir. With our wits and weapons, preferably. Not our cocks,” I spat.

Lochan’s thigh touched mine under the table in silent warning.

The colour rose on Heinnés’ cheeks until it matched his hair. His eyes narrowed to fissures. “You’re a word away from spending a week in the dungeon, Morryés. Keep talking and you’ll force my hand.” He jabbed the air in front of me with a pointed finger. “We’re the first line of defence to eradicate the enemies of the Crown. At this stage, it’s resorting to whatever the fuck promises the surest and quickest outcome. Anything that works.” Having taken a couple of noisy breaths through his nose, he gentled his voice. “Believe me. I understand your perturbation. I like it very little myself. However, we’re shit out of options. Not to mention time. We need the job done. And for that, we have to play along to the baroness’ fiddle. You hear me?”

My pulse soared, pounding in my ears. I gritted my teeth but offered the only possible response, “Aye, sir.”

For a while, no one spoke.

I heaved a long exhale, trying to calm myself.

Lochan tossed back the rest of his drink and placed his cup back on the desk. His leg remained pressed against mine as if by offering this contact, he meant to prevent me from doing something regrettable.

“I’m sorry, lads,” the commander continued. “You know the Queen’s Army supports couples within its ranks. But this is bigger than the two of you. Either way, I can’t make it an order. Therefore, I’m asking you, Lochan, to do it. And you, Ervyn, not to resent it. Not an easy thing, to disregard your self-interest and act for the greater good. Even though it’s hardly fair, I need to know if I can count on you.”

No, fair didn’t even stretch anywhere on the horizon. Fucking insane would be the more accurate turn of phrase. I couldn’t believe the commander expected Lochan to lie down and think of the Elven Country and for me not to lose my shit over it. What a crafty move, though—invoking the massacre in Ëlzebern, where hundreds of civilians had lost their lives. A nice appeal to our sense of duty and responsibility. To our mutual disfavour, these were the most vital personality traits we shared.

For any Elf—and never mind an actively serving soldier—the queen, the state, and the army were the sacred trinity. It came before the law, one’s life, spouse, parents or children. It trumped all else. That was the Elven way.

Lochan’s azure gaze interlocked with mine for what seemed like ages. I held my breath, observing his features reverting to the impassive mask I hadn’t seen in a while. A brief down sweep of his long lashes conveyed his decision.

My heart ached for him and me in equal measures.

“Yes, sir,” we said in unison. An identical, wooden quality rang in our responses.

Heinnés nodded. He didn’t seem relieved—just worn out and dejected, which pretty much corresponded with how I felt.

“You may go now. You’re both off-shift for the next couple of days. Féyes, she’ll send a carriage for you tomorrow an hour after sundown. One more thing.” The commander’s mouth twisted in a grimace as though he’d experienced a sudden onset of a toothache before he added, “Don’t braid your hair. She wants it loose.”

A loud crack followed by a wet, stinging sensation in my hand made me curse. The ceramic cup I’d held had fractured in my fist. Several shards stained with blood and liquor fell to the floor, arranged like a curiously wrapped mosaic.

* * *

Chapter 2

ANGUISH

Gwhwÿn

ERVYN

I was rough with him that night. Teeth marks. Pulled hair. Crushing, restraining grip on his hips. Short, fast thrusts to the rhythm of mine, mine, mine.

The thought of someone—anyone—else laying hands on that smooth, porcelain skin, desecrating the body I’d grown to revere and know so thoroughly, made me want to lash out like an ambushed animal. My jaw clenched, and the stinging behind my eyes blurred my vision. I couldn’t quiet the roar of jealousy that wreaked havoc with my head and stabbed my brain with vile images.

Lochan’s raven hair fanned out across his lean back. Observing the long lines of his muscles tensing and releasing in sync with the snaps of my hips had me struggling for control, my blood overheated. The view of his firm behind and the way his body stretched to welcome and accommodate mine, accepting and gripping me again and again, threatened to tip me over the edge all too soon. He spurred me on, pliant yet demanding, delivering the most delectable resistance, and not quiet about it, either. Fuck, could the lad moan.

Suddenly, it wasn’t enough. A visceral urge to imprint myself on his perception had taken charge of me. I needed to stare into his eyes and have him see me—truly see me. Show me that I’d become just as unforgettable and irreplaceable for him as he’d always been for me. That no matter what, no one could ever step in for me.

Two strokes short of completion, I slid out of him.