Knightly Bonds 1: Their Majesties' Knight Read Free

was better not to try. And there were other ways to fight.
    He whirled around. “Let’s go.”

    * * * *

    “Impressive place,” Lan commented, looking over the spacious hall filled with colorful rugs and banners. Even now, it was half-filled with people who chatted and drank wine from goblets pages meticulously filled. Garen had nodded at people that called out greetings to him when they entered, but he avoided stopping to talk. Lan was somewhat amused with his maneuvering. Now, he was standing next to the small table, with Garen blocking him from others’ view. His gaze slid to the slightly bigger, ornately-carved wooden chairs at the front of the room. As thrones went, he had seen more luxurious. Still, there was something in the understated elegance of the chairs that marked them as thrones.
    The buzz of talk died away as a small group of people entered. He noticed the pair right away. He would have recognized them even if there weren’t slight bows and murmurs of “Majesties” as they approached.
    The king.
    The woman with him, black-haired and with eyes glinting like black diamonds, wore a heavy velvet gown and clinking bracelets. There was a small staff in her hands. So, this was the mage then. He opened his senses a little. The power poured off her with so much force, he quickly shut them down. This was a dangerous woman.
    He inclined his head toward Garen.
    “Who is the woman?”
    “The king’s sister, Princess Moira.”
    “Mage?” he asked.
    “Mage.” There was a sour note in Garen’s voice as he said it. Lan threw him a sharp glance. That was unusual for his always easygoing friend. It looked like the princess and this particular knight weren’t on the best of terms. He wondered why.
    He caught look of unmistakable longing in Garen’s eyes for a second. Grinned. So, that was why. Interesting. Lan filed the information for future use.
    Not that he blamed his friend. Princess Moira was an attractive woman. Lan was neither blind nor dead.
    He looked at the king.
    A surge of electricity went through him as the king’s golden eyes found his. His blood heated, a wave of desire tightening his belly. Now that was more how he liked them.
    Big. Unmistakably male.
    Shit.
    His cock started to rise. Lan shifted, doing his best to squelch his thoughts on that score. This wasn’t the time or place, and that definitely wasn’t an acceptable bedmate.
    If he didn’t know better, he would have sworn that there was an answering heat in the king’s eyes. He swallowed, trying to hold on to his composure. Arin regarded him for a moment then purposefully headed toward them.
    Lan schooled his face into a polite mask. He bowed, as Garen did, as the king approached them. The rest of the royal retinue fell behind as the king inspected their new guest.
    “Lord Garen,” the king said, but his gaze rested on Lan. It slid over him, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.
    “Majesty,” Garen said, “my friend, Lord Lan.” He paused for better effect. “The White Lion.”
    Lan felt his cheeks heat. He hated that nickname. “Majesty.”
    “There are many stories about the White Lion,” the king said.
    Lan didn’t bat an eyelash. “I believe I have heard most of them, sire.”
    Arin laughed. Suddenly he was very close, and his scent enveloped Lan, making him painfully aroused. The king’s hand gripped Lan’s shoulder.
    “Well said. I would love to find out which ones are true, though. Perhaps...later?”
    His tone and his closeness made innocent words sound inappropriate. Lan swallowed.
    “As is your wish, Your Majesty.”
    “Indeed.” Arin’s beard scraped Lan’s cheek as he briefly leaned toward Lan. “I’ll look forward to it.”
    He stepped back, heading toward the eager crowd. Lan expelled a long breath. His gaze fell on Arin’s back. King or no king, that man had a fantastic ass.
    Arin turned just in time to catch him ogling. His eyes flashed with promise.
    Sun and stars. What had he gotten himself