*~*~*
The healer had barely left when Diggory found his arms full of prince, Adalwin's hands settling lightly on his bare shoulders. "How do you feel?"
Diggory's mouth quirked, one hand curling around Adalwin's hip. "I'm fine. Thank you, for everything."
Adalwin laughed and lifted one hand to playfully touch his fingertips along Diggory's cheek. "I am grateful that bastard is not my fiancé. You've no idea how miserable he was making me." He rolled his eyes. "He was making you a thousand times more miserable. Honestly, I'm a brat for complaining."
"No, you're not. I have no doubt he would eventually have killed you as well," Diggory said. "If he was going to carry off his scheme, he was going to need to kill many more people."
Across the room, the king cleared his throat, sounding faintly amused as he said, "I think Prince Degaré will heal better if you are not being overly forward, Adalwin."
Diggory begged to differ, but did not protest beyond a brief pout when Adalwin laughed and stepped away again. Turning to his father, Adalwin asked, "So, what are we to do with Benoit?"
"Leave him to me," the king replied. "Highness, lie down on the bed. Adalwin, cover him with that sheet and then sit beside the cot looking troubled." He motioned to the two men in leather armor standing by the door. "Guards, be prepared for sudden violence against my son and my future son-in-law."
"Yes, highness," the guards chorused and loosed their swords in their sheaths.
A couple of minutes later there came a knock at the door and at the king's bidding, it opened and Diggory heard Benoit's familiar smooth, deep voice. "You called for me, highness?"
"Yes," the king said, sounding grim. "That matter you spoke of this morning, of the malcontent bodyguard who has been attacking—murdering—your men …"
"What about him?" Benoit asked, and Diggory would bet anything Benoit was staring at him, wondering if it was indeed Diggory beneath the sheet.
"He was apprehended in the stables, though not before he murdered the last of your men," the king said. "I am sorry we did not catch him sooner and that your men are all dead. You have my deepest condolences and most abject apologies. I completely understand if your time here has been so wretched that you wish to end the engagement and return home."
"No," Benoit said. "Of course not. It is not your fault—it is mine. I should never have let it come to this; that he was able to kill my men was my own fault. Let us kill him now so there will be no more suffering and move on. My men will rest in peace knowing the marriage continued."
"He was severely wounded," the king said. "There is no saying when he will awake and I am loath to kill a man while he lay defenseless—even one who deserves it. We were discussing what to do with him and what manner of execution best suits his crimes. Normally we hang them, but I feel, under the circumstances, that he deserves a harsher sentence. He lied about who he was to get into the palace and Adalwin's confidence and then murdered three men. Adalwin disagrees and thinks hanging will suffice, but I feel a beheading might be more apropos."
Benoit gave a mean laugh. "I think he should be grateful that they no longer tar and feather murderers. Behead him I say, if an even harsher sentence cannot be exacted. Deceiving, murdering, and who knows what else he had in mind—definitely behead him."
Diggory heard the king stand up. "Indeed. Since you have yourself pronounced such a sentence just, then I feel it is how you must die. Prince Degaré, if you please."
He sat up and threw off the sheet and stared coldly at Benoit, who had gone pale, lips pressed together. Diggory smiled coldly. "Hello, Benoit. You should have done a better job of killing me rather than trusting the river to do your job for you."
"Guards!" the king bellowed as Benoit went for his sword, but they were moving even before he had given the order, and after only a brief struggle, knocked Benoit out and secured him. "Take him to the dungeon. Tell the dungeon master I want his execution scheduled as soon as possible. Prince Degaré, have you any requests so far as the matter is concerned?"
Diggory shook his head. "I just want Adalwin and my family safe. The rest I trust to you, Majesty."
The king nodded, clearly pleased by his answer, and gestured for the guards to take him away, following them out of the room. Diggory turned when a warm hand cupped his cheek, tilting his face up to meet the soft kiss brushed across his lips. "Thank you for giving me one last chance," he said quietly.
Adalwin smiled faintly. "Thank you for being stubborn. I am happier than I can express that you are my betrothed and not that bastard. In you I see the man who wrote those letters. Now come, idiot. Whatever you think, you need proper rest. Tomorrow we'll declare our betrothal vows properly."
"That reminds me—I hope Benoit did not throw out my belongings. I have a betrothal gift for you."
"Oh?" Adalwin asked, hand slipping around to curl against the back of Diggory's neck, urging his head up and ever closer. "What did you get me?"
Diggory laughed. "You'll find out when I give it to you."
"Spoilsport," Adalwin replied right before he took another kiss. The fingers of his free hand moved lightly over Diggory's bandaged wound. "Come on, to bed with you. I'm not going to have you still injured on our wedding night."
Snorting at that because it would hardly take that long for the wound to sufficiently heal, Diggory nevertheless let Adalwin usher him from the room and up the stairs, their hands intertwined the entire way. "We should go for a ride later," he said.
Adalwin made a face. "Not until you're healed—and since I am now lacking a stable boy, you had better help me find a new one."
Diggory laughed and stopped walking, tugged him close, and leaned up to kiss him hard and quick. "Yes, highness."
About the Author
Megan is a long time resident of m/m fiction, and keeps herself busy reading, writing, and publishing it. She is often accused of fluff and nonsense. She loves to hear from readers, and can be found all around the internet.
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[email protected] @amasour
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