A V.L. Locey Gay Fantasy Romance

  Heroes of Melowynn #1—The Bronze Warrior

  Copyright © 2025 V.L. Locey

  Edited by Kathy Krick

  Cover by Meredith Russell

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  PUBLISHER: Perky Rooster Press

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  Not AI written, edited, or proofed. No parts of this novel may be used in any way for any AI generated works.

  NO AI TRAINING: Without in any way limiting the author’s [and publisher’s] exclusive rights under copyright, any use of this publication to “train” generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies to generate text is expressly prohibited. The author reserves all rights to license uses of this work for generative AI training and development of machine learning language models.

  If you happen to find any errors such as typos, missing punctuation, or, horror of horrors, factual blunders, please report them to my assistant, nolakimpa@gmail.com. She’ll let me know about them. Please do not report them using the reporting feature on your e-reader. This can have consequences for authors if we don’t see them and reply quickly enough as some sites do not always notify us in a timely manner!

  About The Bronze Warrior

  Acknowledgments

  A Note from the Author

  Map of Melowynn

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Epilogue

  The Pine Rider

  A Note from the Author

  About the Author

  Also by V.L. Locey

  A kingdom thrives on diplomacy and secrets.

  Pasil Greenleaves, Captain of the Royal Guard, has spent his life sworn to blade and oath, a man forged in steel, silence, and duty. Loyal to a fault, eager to serve, and unshakably composed, he’s tasked with protecting a dignitary after the arrival of a powerful delegation from the Black Sand Isles, a distant, magic-steeped realm that left the tight control of Melowynn and its religious theocracy eons ago.

  Welcomed warmly to Celear, the seat of the mainland elves, is Teryn Nouradi, a high-ranking diplomat and mage in the Sandrayan high court: brilliant, beautiful, and utterly impossible. Where Pasil is all sharp lines and responsibility, Teryn is blinding winds and shadow, wielding ancient magic with a flick of his fingers and a smile that hides centuries of political discretion and etiquette.

  Their meeting is anything but smooth. Teryn’s presence is a disruption. A mystery wrapped in silk and heat—and he knows it. But when a dark force begins unraveling the fragile peace between their lands, both men are forced into an uneasy alliance. As political games twist into threats of war, Pasil finds himself pulled into a dangerous mission with the foreign envoy who sees past his armor.

  The Bronze Warrior is the first book in a sweeping M/M romantasy age gap trilogy featuring a diligent guard, a gifted foreign ambassador, magical intrigue, forbidden desire, a race to save two innocent lives, and a love that could burn kingdoms down—or save them.

  To my family who accepts me and all my foibles and quirks. Even the plastic banana in my holster.

  To my alphas, betas, editors, and proofers who work incredibly hard to help me make my books the shiniest we can make them.

  If you want to keep up with all the latest news about my upcoming M/M releases, sign up for my newsletter by visiting my website: vllocey.com

  Before you stride into the epic battles and heart-pulling moments of the Heroes of Melowynn trilogy, I strongly suggest you begin where the magic truly sparks—The Pastel Prince and The Ivory King. These Crowns of Melowynn stories carry the lore, the history, and the emotional groundwork that makes this new trilogy shine. Luckily, the duology is bundled in an affordable Amazon box set and included in Kindle Unlimited, ready to whisk you into a realm of Elves, ancient magicks, and all the swoony M/M age-gap romance your heart can bear.

  *Hugs*

  V.L.

  TWO THINGS MAKE A MAN’S HEART BEAT quickly when the sun shines upon it: the skin of a bared lover beside him in the morn and the glint of a bright beam off his sword.

  This morning, I only had the sword to hand, but my thoughts as I began my solo time on the training grounds of Castle Avolire were on the strong back of the lover I’d left behind at a tavern in the heart of Celear. The stablehand had proven to be an enjoyable distraction from the knowledge that a longtime friend was leaving today. His hands had been quite calloused but nicely skilled.

  How long the archer that had come to be a brother to me would be gone was anyone’s guess. Beiro Vahorn had proven a valuable ally four seasons ago when we’d hired him to guide me and a small traveling party, including our king Aelir, Queen Raewyn, and V’alor, the commander of the royal guards. Oh, and of course, the queen’s handmaiden, Merrilyn—a human woman who is also a royal consort and spouse to the king, queen, and V’alor.

  Their polyamorous marriage was a first for Melowynn. Many were against it. Many still are. The fact that a human of all things sat at the side of the queen rankled many elves.

  That was just one of many things that the more conservative elves despair about having Aelir on the throne. The list of grievances is long for those who wish for a return to the more settled times before the man, who I now have sworn to protect with my very life, sat upon the ivory throne. Settled being objective as Aelir has brought food to poor elven children, cleaned the streets of the capital, and freed many creatures held in menageries in Renedith, Kanazen, and here in Celear. That, for some bizarre reason, did not sit well with many of the elites of our society. Many in the church also spoke out against Aelir’s helping hands even though Ihdos had preached many times about the learned aiding those with less knowledge and means. The hypocrisy was staggering.

  With the sun warming my bare back, I went through my daily pell work. I enjoyed this time alone on the practice field, just myself, my thoughts, and the wooden post that took the brunt of my strikes. The thunk of the heavy oaken waster sword as I sliced down, cutting edge to cutting edge and rattling down my arms, sharpened my mind and honed my muscles. After changing my lead leg, I came down again, imagining my opponent parrying the blow. With a swift move to the right, I swung out to where a warrior’s legs would be. Wood slapped wood. The imaginary warrior I was battling was now prone, so with no flourish or ceremony, I came down with a killing blow, ending the fictitious danger to my king or his family.

  “And thusly another anthill is sent to its early grave to save the crown,” I heard from behind and smiled at the familiar voice. Turning, I dragged my forearm across my brow to find my cousin, Rolim, standing under a towering dark ash with a fresh roll and a mug of cider from the barracks dining hall. He has the look of all the Greenleaves: black hair, light blue eyes, and a ready smile. He has served under me as my second for three seasons now. A finer, more trustworthy man I could not have asked for as my lieutenant. “Also, I take note that the scullery maids and spit-boys seem to be up remarkably early today.”

  I glanced over my shoulder to see a small group of young men and women, dressed in the common clothes of the castle staff, gathered at the gate to the barracks proper. When my sight touched them, they scattered like dandelion blows in the wind.

  “Perhaps they were cheering for the ants,” I replied, tugging the waster from the hard-packed dirt before tossing it at my cousin. He dropped his roll to catch the wooden sword. Then he cussed lightly at his breakfast lying at his buffed leather boots. “And that treat is for the widows and children of the ants slain in this morn’s battle.”

  “You truly are an arse,” he muttered but made no move to pluck the sticky bun from the dirt.

  “That, cousin, is hereditary. Have you posted this day’s patrols?”

  “I have, and the watch assignments are also on display. We will need to begin work on the extra details that will be required when the Sandrayans arrive.”

  I nodded, pulled my undershirt from the limb I had tossed it on, and wiped my face and the back of my neck before tugging it over my head.

  “We’ll need to double the guards on the walls and entry points,” I said, looking up to see the first white-and-gray gull calling out a good morn to the day. “There are already rumblings in the alehouses about the envoys from the Black Sands. Many people are not pleased with the new naval propositions that the king and queen are hoping to bring to fruition.”

  “Many people are not pleased about many things, Pasil.”

  “That I cannot argue with, my cousin,” I wearily sighed.

  That was the deepest truth of the day so far. It seemed that no matter how a monarch ruled, there were dissidents who despised his or her rulings and laws. Aelir was a very progressively minded king, as were his queen and his consorts. I felt that his advisors—his grandfather Umeris and Le’ral Fylson, lover and secretary to the previous king—kept Aelir’s so-called radical proposals to a minimum.
Le’ral was a handsome elf, to be sure. A noted warrior in his prime, he had matured finely, with dark brown hair worn in a short military fashion and wide stripes of silver at his temples teasing at his entry into midlife. The tease being that no other aspect of the man showed any softness at the belly, as some elves gathered when they reached a certain age. Fylson, as he preferred to be called by his friends, trained daily to keep himself in fighting shape even though he no longer marched in the king’s army. His brown eyes were still sharp as a raptor’s as was his keen mind. He was one of the most trusted advisors the king had, and all in Melowynn respected him and his counsel.

  To ease the most stiff and unbending of Melowynn’s peoples from having to adjust to too much change too quickly, the advisors who had served under the previous monarch had been asked to stay. The old elves disliked change. The church of Ihdos being the most stubborn. Mulish is what the king called the church elders under his breath when they balked at forward-thinking ideas or proposals.

  “Join me in the throne room at ten bells.” I looked from the gull to my cousin. He nodded just once as we pushed into the barracks.

  The throne room was where the king sat in judgment of those held in the barracks gaol and the castle dungeons after he broke his fast with the queen, his consorts, and his two children.

  “I’ll bring extra men as well. Just to ensure that those receiving the king’s justice are properly cowed.”

  “Good call. We’ll meet for dinner tonight in my quarters to work out the extra details for the upcoming visit from the Sandrayans. We have several days to finalize the rosters and present them to the guard commander.”

  We passed several guards just waking as well as some that were coming off the night’s watch to retire. To a fault, each one paused, placed a fist to their chest, and lowered their head in respect as I passed. To this day, I felt odd about such signs of command. When my friend V’alor was captain of the guard, he fully deserved the respect. I, on the other hand, felt much less deserving. I’d been promoted on merit, yes, and had served my king and country well for four seasons now without incident or dishonor. Yet there were times that I wondered if I was the best man for this job.

  As we continued, we walked past a large sleeping chamber that held twenty beds, footlockers, and a thin wooden armoire for personal belongings. There were two other rooms for guards to rest in their downtime and sleep between shifts. Many of the married guards returned to their homes in the city, so most of the elves here were single.

  “Good morning, Captain! I found this young scamp with his pecker hanging out of a knothole in the privy.” A flash of purple appeared in front of me. The tiny ball of plum and pixie glitter seemed to have a young man by the ear. I could see by the wide eyes on the new recruit that he was stunned and terrified to be pulled through the barracks by his pointed ear by a pixie the size of a ball of soft goat cheese. “Not that I dislike seeing a little twig before I have my morning juice, mind you…”

  Rolim and I came to a stop ten feet from my quarters. Royal Ward Guardian Tezen Plumwax smiled at us with sharp teeth and a sparkle in her large black as coal eyes. I threw a look at the young elf being suspended in the air with only his toes touching the ground. He seemed to be in no small amount of pain. Pixies were incredibly strong for their size as this young man was finding out.

  “Perhaps you should let the novice stand properly before one ear is permanently longer than the other?” I suggested, folding my arms over my sweaty undershirt to level a dark look at the newly sworn-in guardsman. Rolim snickered at the sight. I would have as well if I hadn’t been the one in charge.

  The new recruit whimpered. Tezen sighed dramatically before releasing her hold on the red pointed ear. The lad slapped a hand over his sore ear, but to his credit, he stood at attention then clapped his fist to his chest before lowering his head.

  Tezen flew around us, landing on my shoulder to sit and glower at the new guard she had caught in such a compromising situation.

  “Tell me, recruit, what exactly were you doing with your cock in a knothole?” I asked because I could think of no reason to do such a thing.

  He kept his sight on the ground. “Captain Greenleaves, I was trying to win a bet.”

  I rolled my eyes at my cousin. Rolim shrugged as he sipped his cider. He was of little help. I looked at my left shoulder to see Tezen staring up at me.

  “That is something a young fool would do,” I said and got a nod from the pixie seated on me as if she owned that shoulder. It was a bold move for her to use me as a tuffet as she was below me in rank. But she was also above me in nobility as she was a princess of the pixie court, and I, the lowly son of a commoner. As far as I knew, that title had not been revoked, even though she had begged her father to do so innumerable times.

  “I’d be embarrassed if I owned a gherkin that was small enough to fit through a knothole,” Tezen announced loudly enough to be heard in the castle parapets. The novice guard turned a bright shade of red. “Surely I would not be showing off my little pickle to anyone passing by. To be honest, at first I thought it was a wood worm and was about to slice it in half with my eating dagger when I spied the little eye winking at me.”

  Two female guards passing by giggled softly. The recruit turned even redder. I’d never seen an elf such a deep coloration of carmine.

  “What shall we do with him?” Rolim asked just as the first bell to worship rang out over the city.

  “Tolam, that is your name, yes?” I prided myself on knowing the names of all my men, even the new ones. He bobbed his head, eyes still locked on my bare feet. “You’re to pick up a full moon’s pass of latrine duty since you seem to be so fond of the privies and have free time to be a goatish fool.”

  “Yes, Captain!” Tolam barked.

  “You’re dismissed.”

  He ran off with the speed of one of Beiro’s arrows.

  “Now I’m off to wash up and begin the day,” I announced before leaving my cousin and friend in the hallway. Striding into my room, I closed the door but not quickly enough to bar the pixie from zipping into the captain’s quarters. This room was on the smallish side but held a large bed, a tall dresser, and a stout desk. A washstand in the corner, a tub behind a silken screen gifted to me by a Dwarven envoy after I’d been able to rescue her basalt badger from the sewers under the castle. How the sturdy, stout beast had gotten free from the ambassador from Winterbreak, none of us knew.

  The envoy had been incredibly thankful for the return of her pet, so she offered the small party that had trudged through the muck gifts from the cart she had brought to share with the royal family. King Aelir teased me unmercifully after I’d been given that screen, saying that the envoy wished to see me step out from behind it minus my clothes and leap into her bed. Not a wholly unpleasant thought, as she was quite buxom, but her husband was known to be short-tempered. We did not need a diplomatic incident to take place, so I gratefully took the screen but nothing else.

  Tezen placed her backside to one of the four bedposts as I stood stock still to stare at her. “Do you not have children to watch?”

  She shrugged. Purple dust drifted downward to land atop my freshly buffed bronze armor. It gleamed brightly in the new sun falling through the window high on the stone wall. Every time I glanced at it, I felt deep pride. Only the captain of the royal guard wore this bronze-toned armor. The rest of the garrison of guards wore the white and blue of Avolire. I’d done well for a young scamp born in the poorer section of Renedith. Not as well as the commander of the guard, who had married into the royal family, but well enough that I was content in my life as it was.

  I would have to compliment the castle armorer for his fine work in getting my dress armor so highly shined. I’d not be wearing it today though. This would be put into my armoire for the day that the Sandrayan guests arrived. Today I’d be pulling on a less cumbersome, lighter set of leather armor with a gambeson in the colors of the castle, white and blue, a helmet, and my sword and shield.

  “Nanny Vilde will be rousing them and getting them dressed,” Tezen replied, clad in her own small, medium-weight armor. Her war picks hung from her hips, always at the ready. “Then I shall meet them at the dining hall to escort them outside to play in the gardens.”