“Mahouk Nouradi, it is with great pleasure that we meet again,” Le’ral stated as the ambassador, now holding the cat cradled in one arm, and his two children strode across the gangplank wearing smiles as bright as the day was warm. The two men clasped each other’s forearms in a traditional Sandrayan greeting, heads nodding once, as they met on the dock. “I hope your trip was uneventful and the seas calm.”

  “It was a joyous trip. The sea enjoyed our ship skimming its waves. It has been too long since I gazed upon your face, Grand Advisor Fylson. You have aged well.” Teryn’s sight darted to me and stayed for a long, long moment. “Ah! I see you have brought the famed bronze warrior with you to greet us.”

  “At the king’s request,” Le’ral announced as if I were a gifted goat.

  He passed the cat to the young woman, who then greeted Le’ral with a kind smile and nod. I placed my fist on my chest as the envoy stepped in front of me. “Imagine such an honor being bestowed upon us. Your reputation is known even on the smallest of islands of the Black Sands. Pasil Greenleaves, the bronze warrior, eradicator of bandits and slayer of yeti.”

  He held out his hand. Something I was not expecting, for most dignitaries tended to ignore royal guards and the castle staff entirely unless they wanted something from us. I clasped his forearm with a gauntleted hand. He stood a few inches shorter than I and was leaner. The rich scent of sand sage blew from his robes to tempt me to lean closer to breathe him in. I did not lean in as much as my body wished me to.

  “In truth, Mahouk, the bandits were eradicated with a troop of men, and the yeti was not slain, merely maimed.”

  He held onto my arm as we spoke, also something that most here in Melowynn did not do. “You’re being far too modest, Captain, for the story I heard was that the yeti were young, unruly, and possessed by the rampant aggression of their first mating season. To disarm a male yeti in the rage of that first breeding call is no small feat.”

  “Thank you, Mahouk, but I fear the stories you have been told may have exaggerated my prowess greatly.”

  “That I highly doubt. I can feel your masculinity even through your armor. It flows from you like the scent from a desert flower that calls to the lovesick moths.”

  I blinked at the man still holding my forearm. “I am…that’s very kind. If you would like to follow us, we have carriages ready for you and your entourage.”

  One corner of his mouth twitched. “And you are very handsome.”

  I doubted he could see much of my face within my helm. The man was being a flirt. It was told that the Sandrayans were not strictly monogamous as we on the mainland were. Which was why the king’s marriage to three other people was so bold. That was simply not done here. I had to wonder what his spouses thought of his being so outrageous with a mere guard. Mayhap it was just an accepted way of life.

  “Again, you are being far too kind. Shall we head to the castle? King Aelir has a grand welcoming meal at the ready.” I waved a hand to the royal carriages waiting for us.

  “Of course. We’ll talk later, Maimer of Yeti,” he teased, released my forearm, and took the cat back. A quick introduction of his daughter, I’llra, and his son, P’tash, and we moved from the dock to the carriages. Once the ambassador, or mahouk in the Sandrayan tongue, Le’ral, and the two younger Nouradi were safely ensconced in the safety of a fully wooden-sided forest carriage, I climbed up into Gwedel’s saddle. She was also decked out in finery and had been brushed so well that her gold hair glistened. With a toss of her head, we began the slow climb up to Castle Avolire.

  The carriage was protected by ten royal guards on horseback and flanking city guards marching alongside to ensure no one lining the narrow streets made a lunge at the ornate carriage. Many elves hurled insults, some rotted fruit, and a few waved fists at the Sandrayans. Heretics, they were called by many. Their darker skins were also maligned. Much like the wood elves were disliked merely for the shade of their flesh, so were the inhabitants of the Black Sand Isles. I found it horrible and close-minded. I’d come to know Kenton quite well over the years I’d been a guard of Renedith, and then during my tenure here at Avolire. He was a kind man, filled with love of nature, his husband, and his students of druidcraft. What matter did it make that his hair was white and braided and his skin soft green? None. A good person was a good person.

  Scowling at the pale elves flinging insults did nothing, but it made me feel good. Pity I couldn’t allow Gwedel to nip the most lewd people. She would be happy to do so. Standing about in leather armor beside the sea was not her favorite thing to do. My horse was not fond of large bodies of water, dress armor, or people waving flags in her face. I had to keep a tight hold of her reins to keep her from dancing about too wildly. Give her an open field with enemies to charge or kick at, and she was in her glory. Tiny elven children darting around her or people shaking banners with the seal of Celear on them made her cranky. She and I were in complete agreement on many things, crowd control and being made to feel itchy by the roaming eye of a randy envoy rested at the top of my list today.

  I’d never been happier to see the gates of Avolire. My patience with unruly adults was frayed to near breaking. Children I could see being rude but grown elves? No, that was uncalled for. No wonder the elven clans of Melowynn could not seem to come back together.

  The entourage was led to the main doors of the castle, overlooking the sea. The cobbled street leading to the main doors was coated with yellow and red flower petals. Castle staff lined the way, bowing courteously at the carriage as it made its way to a grand staircase of white marble. At the top of the stairs stood King Aelir, his long hair blowing in the salty winds, the silver crown of Melowynn resting atop his head, and his attire white with blue accoutrements. The prince and princess stood beside their father, looking at the finery and billowing banners with wide, soft blue eyes. Each child wore a silver coronet and short robes that came to their knees with soft kid boots of white leather. Tezen flitted about behind the king, a blur of purple always on watch of her charges. The carriage came to a halt. A red carpet was thrown down the long stairs, unfurling with precision at the forest carriage’s step.

  Armed guards snapped to attention when I dismounted. One of the castle’s many young workers scurried out to open the carriage door and melted back into the kitchen workers standing nearby. The ambassador exited last. His son, daughter, and Le’ral were waiting for him to step down from the carriage. Teryn found me standing off to the side, flashed me a smile filled with straight white teeth, and then made his way to the king, his cat prancing along at his side like a well-trained hound.

  I followed behind, trying my best not to notice the erotic aroma of sand sage the breeze insisted on wafting under my nose. It was the longest stair climb I could recall. The man needed to use far less enticing oils on his skin.

  The day was a long one, spent in heavy armor, standing for long hours as the king and the ambassador exchanged pleasantries, gifts, and feasted into the small hours of the night. The children, who had been presented with a kitten with the spotted markings that Teryn’s pampered cat carried, had been marched up to the nursery at sundown with full bellies and a new pet that was named Spot. The heirs to Melowynn were nothing if not inventive.

  When the moons had climbed to their zeniths in the sky, the ambassador finally decided to find his bed. His son and daughter were taken to their rooms, and his lesser staff were shown to either the barracks or the lodgings for the castle staff. Rolim was the interim guardian of the monarch. I would trust no one else other than V’alor to do so, and I had many fine men and women in the ranks.

  Weary to the bone, I walked along three steps behind and to the right of Teryn, who, it seemed, was not averse to stopping at every balcony to gaze out at the stars or down at the Silvura rolling over slick, dark boulders.

  “You’re very quiet,” he said at the fourth balcony we paused at.

  “It’s not my place to make small talk with dignitaries. It’s my place to protect you from whatever harm may befall you while on my watch.”

  He leaned on the thick stone rail, the night breeze gently rustling his loose hair as he closed his eyes to inhale deeply. His profile was quite lovely. Masculine, to be sure. The facial hair was quite attractive. Beards and goatees were not commonly seen among the mainland elves. The dwarves, on the other hand, were quite proud of their thick bushy beards, sometimes adorning them with gems from the mines deep in the bowels of the Witherhorn.

  “That is quite noble.” He spoke as his thick lashes rested on his cheek. The moons were waxing, so their light was meek still but painted him in a gentle white light that highlighted the silver hair on his jaw. I turned my sight from his face to stare out at the sea. “I could feel you staring at me.” My gaze flew from the sea back to him. Now he was staring at me, a wry smile playing on plush lips. “What is it that fascinates you so about me?”

  “I…there is nothing. I was just ensuring that you did not lean too far over the balustrade.”

  That made him chuckle. It was a warm laugh, even if it was directed at my feeble lie. “I do thank you, Pasil, for your vigilance. For a moment, I thought that you found me desirable and were contemplating taking me into your arms. There are stories of how the moon sisters can befuddle a man’s thoughts.”

  I was more than befuddled. I was staggered. And taken so far aback, it was a wonder that I didn’t find myself on the far side of the castle.

  “I was not moonstruck, Mahouk. Rest assured.”

  “Oh? Do you not find men attractive?” he asked in a kittenish way that rankled me.

  “It is not that at all. I find all people attractive, just not those who I am tasked to keep safe.”

  “I see. If I were to ask for another guard then you could, in theory, tell me that you find me as lovely as a cactus wren’s song?” This man was quite insufferable. He smiled a wicked smile. “You are quite the devoted guardian to be able to resist my charms.” He turned from the sea, wearing a mischievous little crook of a smile. “That is admirable. Escort me to my rooms. I am exceedingly tired, and since I cannot tempt you into courting me, I shall turn in and dream of the morrow when we shall meet and begin this dance anew.”

  I thought to argue. His little chuckle glued my lips together—for a moment. “We are not dancing, ambassador. Now, if you please?” I motioned to the softly lit hall, the torches in the sconces flickering as the sea winds rushed down the hall.

  “You mainland men are so damn duty-bound. Not that I object to devotion to your king and queen. My people are the same, but when the candles grow low and the stars appear, we tend to let the duties that dictate to us during the day fade off so we may enjoy the pleasures that the night offers.”

  I dared not. Yes, he was a temptation sweeter than Widow Poppy’s honey cakes, but he was a dignitary, and I was his sworn protector. If just for a moment my guard lowered and danger swept in, my livelihood would be gone. We’d lost one king to poison under our noses and had almost lost Aelir to the machinations of an unbalanced woman. Failing would see me stripped of rank. I’d be back on the streets as I had been when young, stealing and picking pockets to help my family survive. No, as much as he stirred something in me, I could not—would not—jeopardize my position here.

  “For us, the night is offering you the safety of your quarters. This way, Ambassador.” I stepped into the hall. One of the four royal guards stationed in this corridor paid us our respects as we passed by. Reaching his door, I found a guard of mine and one of his, a tall woman in leather armor, hair pulled back tightly, amber eyes lowering in regard to his station. She held one of the Sandrayan weapons of war, a long-pronged spear. “I shall turn you over to your staff so they may ready you for bed. Until the morn.”

  I bowed. He smiled at me, something lurking behind his tawny eyes. “Until the morn, Pasil Greenleaves. May your dreams be filled with delights.” He entered his quarters, the meow of a cat floating out into the hall before the door was closed. Staring at the door for a long, long moment, I resigned myself to the knowledge that my dreams would be filled with many things, most of them dealing with men with gold-plated eyes.

  KNOWING THAT THE CASTLE ARMORER would be irate with me did not stop me from hacking into a wooden pell with a standard-issue sword. Three days. Three days of endless hours spent seated—at the mahouk’s request—within whispering distance from Teryn. Three days, three feet, three inches of wood now missing from the dense hickory log in the ground.

  Each thunk of blade into wood should be helping to loosen the knots of frustration between my shoulders. Should have but was not. This fourth day would be a true test of my ability to resist the way Teryn’s warm voice washed over me like a scented bath. Why was I acting so bespelled? I was no virgin. My adult years had been filled with many lovers, male and female, as I enjoyed both sexes under me. Many had been favorites, some even more, but none had pushed and pulled me in both directions as Teryn Nouradi did. I swung out with all my might in a bruising circle. The impact into the strongest hardwood found in the Verboten woods sent shock waves up my arms.

  Perhaps it was time to stop before I broke the blade in two. Lowering my arms, aching from the pummeling I had given the pell, I let the morning sun shine on my face as my eyes closed momentarily. Songbirds began to sing from their nests. I felt no better now than I had when I started. The discomfort across my shoulders only added to the broiling frustration trapped in my body. Tonight. When my shift was done, I would bathe, dress well, and go find that adventurous stablehand in the city. He would be willing to take me on, I was sure, to let me hold him down onto his thin, straw-filled mattress, and thrust into him like a stag in heat. For that was how I felt. Like a wild beast in the prime of rut with a mate within reach but unable to mount them.

  Sweaty and panting, I checked the blade of the sword. It was dulled badly. Running my thumb over it was akin to rubbing your finger over the edge of a waster blade. Sighing, I made my way to my quarters, pleased not to run into anyone with any problems or questions. My skin felt too tight. Stalking into my room, I paused. The faintest aroma of sand sage lingered in the still air. Unsure if I was truly losing my mind or if the damn envoy with the gold eyes was hidden here or not, I tramped over to the armoire and placed the ruined sword beside it. I would return it to Kinney, the head armorer, myself. He would rant. Rightfully so.

  Throwing it open, I found nothing but clothes, freshly laundered ones folded neatly on shelves, and dirty ones in a basket on the floor of the wardrobe. The scent was stronger now. Dropping down into a crouch, I lifted my chemise and braies from yesterday to my nose. There it was. That alluring mix of Sandrayan lime, dried rose petals, and black ginger root. That was the smell of Teryn. Placing one knee to the floor, I buried my face into my dirty chemise. Yes, this scent was him. As I drew it into my lungs, I felt the rush of blood to my cock as my mind spun out of control. Flashing imagery of the older elf taking me into his mouth, his ass stretching to accommodate my swollen cock, his flashing amber eyes hot as the lava that bubbles in the caldera of the Witherhorn Mountains as he rode me like a stallion.

  If not for the knock on my door, my hand would have freed my cock from my breeches to stroke myself off, spending onto the shirt as if it were Teryn’s plush lips.

  “Captain? I have the day’s duty roster,” a young elf nervously called out.

  I flung the shirt back into the basket, closed the wardrobe with care, and pulled my shirt from my trousers to help hide my erection. I gently opened the door to take the papers. The new recruit looked up at me with concern.

  “I was training,” I said to cover the fact that my face was flushed. “Perhaps you should do the same after you return this to Lieutenant Greenleaves with my permission to post?”

  “Yes, sir, Captain, sir.” A long, awkward moment passed. “Would you like to read it, sir?”

  Fuck. “I know what it says. I drafted it.”

  “Sir, yes, of course, Captain, sir.” He tore off, remembered the roster was still in my hands, and darted back to pluck it from between my fingers. “Ihdos blessing to you, Captain.”

  “And to you.”

  He bolted like a frightened hare. I closed the door, threw the bolt, and proceeded to strip and douse myself with yesterday’s cold water sitting in the washbasin. It helped slightly, but not enough. Yes, tonight I would head to town and soak my wick, as Tezen would say. Nothing cleansed a man’s mind like a good fuck with an agreeable partner.

  “I’m quite pleased to see that you’ve shed plate armor for a lighter protection,” Teryn commented as we made our way from the day’s lengthy meeting.

  Things had slowed a bit today as Umeris had felt well enough to sit in on the dry negotiations. The talks had been progressing well with Le’ral at the king’s side and Teryn’s daughter at his. The first few days had dealt mainly with sovereignty issues and who would hold control over the port’s territory as well as daily operations. It had been agreed that representatives from Melowynn and the Black Sands would work jointly with several port officers on each side at each dock along the western coast. Today was mired down with the topic of funding and investments. This was where Umeris, working with the whispers of the vill’s owners in his pointed ears, I had no doubt, began arguing most points. Little progress had been made, and all in those stuffy chambers were weary.

  “As you requested,” I stiffly replied, eager to shed the leather armor and find my way into the seedier parts of Celear. Seated behind Teryn for close over ten chimes of the bells had me tighter than a finely strung harp.

  “Well, I suspect that you’re not only more comfortable but less irritable.”

  I glanced at the man striding along at my side through the maze of corridors within the castle. His head was high, his smile playful, the soft swish of his lavender robes comforting in a way I did not wish to investigate.

  “Not to argue with my betters, but I am rarely irritable.” I made a point to unfurrow my brow.