Heart of Steel by Samantha M. Derr

Author:Samantha M. Derr [Derr, Edited by Samantha M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: LGBTQIA, Romance, Anthology, Fantasy
Publisher: Less Than Three Press, LLC
Published: 2017-09-20T04:00:00+00:00

The Heartless Knight

Heather Morris

Isi had been off balance all day, warm and muddle-headed and slow, and that was before Prince Tom decided that the chief aim of the night would be getting everyone scandalously drunk. The Frog and Feather was their fourth stop of the night—"We must have four," Tom had slurred early on in the evening, "for luck and glory!"—but at least it would be their last. Isi usually imbibed at a slower rate than his friends, but even he was already drunk enough that time seemed stretched like molasses candy.

As they stumbled their way to their usual spot amidst the din of the public house, Isi tripping over his suddenly too-large feet, Isi tried to categorize the state of his friends. Emery Pin was giddy, hopping around like a giant, uncoordinated bird. Sol Bright was bleary-eyed and edging towards morose. Walter Ames was handsy—hanging all over some blonde girl they'd picked up at the last place. "Want to see my big sword?" he kept asking her, and, well, Isi might have been drunk and inexperienced in the finer points of seduction, but even he knew what Ames was really talking about, and it wasn't the sword at his hip.

But Tom was definitely the worst off—or best, depending on the perspective—of the bunch.

The prince was well known to enjoy a drink or four, but tonight he was flamboyantly, spectacularly drunk.

And Isi was right there with him.

Normally he kept to the sidelines, where he could keep control of his actions and emotions while the others had their fun. But tonight was different. Tonight, he was officially a knight of the Court of Four, one of the oldest institutions in Skel, raised so far above his station that he could hardly think straight. He wasn't sure yet how to feel about this, so he'd decided that he may as well get hammered.

Sloshed. Malty. Pickled. Smashed. Take your pick. Since landing on the shore of this bewildering isle at the age of nine, Isi had made a habit out of collecting all the ways Skellans said things, and the words for drunkenness were among his favorites. Mheztil just called a drunk man a fermented fool and had done with it. As with everything else in their language, Skellans gave drunkenness scope.

Prince Tom took the national passion and made it something of a personal mission. Six nights of seven, he could be found winding through the inns and ale halls of outer Skelhome, boosting the local economy with his surfeit of coin. It wasn't that he was a drunkard, precisely. Everything was a matter of degrees. But Tom did enjoy any excuse for a celebration.

Well, tonight was certainly a celebration. And for once, Isi was keeping up with Tom and the others. Drink for drink.

Sozzled. Isi wasn't entirely sure if that was a real Skellan term, or if he'd simply made it up to add to his store of drunken words. No matter. He was quite fond of it.

He was thoroughly sozzled.

"To our liege lord!" Emery proclaimed in toast.

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