Khyrial and the King by Secchia Marc

Author:Secchia, Marc [Secchia, Marc]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy, Romance
Amazon: B09QSPJ29Q
Goodreads: 60500231
Published: 2022-02-26T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter 21: My King

“I MUST PROTEST. AFTER a kiss like that, I am still to be addressed as ‘my King?’ ” Vaylar complained. “Two kisses, in fact. My knees still can’t remember which realm they’re in.”

“Even if you can’t count kisses properly, you will always be my King.”

“My jaw hurts.”

“For what it’s worth, so does mine.” Khyrial bit back an urge to start again where they had just left off. “Nice rescue. Innovative thinking on your feet there.”

With a flash of anger, he growled, “If this is something to do with that ridiculous comment I made before about you knowing your place –”

“No.”

“Did I hurt you?”

“Er … I’m the one who bit your tongue. I’m really sorry about that; I plead inexperience in tongue warfare. My King –” his raffish grin made its appearance, but this Ayraelar warrior was not backing up an inch “– my King, what I am grateful for is that you’ve just helped me begin to forget that very first experience. Now I have a wing measure of what this should be like. I’ll never forget.”

“Khyrial, don’t you dare push me away.”

Folding her arms across her stomach, she examined their surrounds. “I’m not! We need to find a place to shelter for the night. Something must have happened. There’s been no sign of a search party –”

“Too many Wyrms, or they don’t know where we went down,” he agreed. “We might need to hike out of here in the morning. Are your wings badly hurt?”

“I don’t think I’ll be flying for a few days.”

“I’m sorry I dragged you down with me, literally – oh, and in more wonderful news, here comes the snow. Lead on.”

They picked their way between the trees for another mile in increasingly poor visibility. Vaylar began to limp from a knock he must have taken during their fall; he shivered often now. Taking his hand, Khyrial led him through the deepening gloom. There, at last! She inspected a narrow but deep hole beneath a gnarled tree root by the light of her ignited sword, hoping that this cosy spot would not already have an owner. With none in sight, they took over – not without a brief argument.

“You crawl in first,” she said.

“No, you first. I am not that kind of man!”

She said, “You’re the kind of man who is sensible enough to recognise that his Champion does not feel the cold as he does. I will shield you. You’re already chilled through and I will never be forgiven if I expose you to sickness in addition to –”

“Right!” he growled unhappily. Aye, she was right. Aye, he was that stubborn – honourable, one might argue, and clearly insufferable.

Khyrial added, “Will you keep watch while I relieve myself?”

“If you’ll do the same for me.”

Shortly, Elf and Ayraelar crawled inside the space, which measured eight feet long, a foot and a half high and six deep. Khyrial dragged their upper body armour in after them, wedging it upright both as a windbreak and as protection against predators.

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