Page 25 of The Scouts

I gripped my fingers tighter together behind me. The next time our gazes met, I came into his throat.

My chest heaved. I watched Ervyn take his time licking the crown of my cock and then clean his lips with studied calm. His blown pupils, dissolved in the blackness of his irises, contradicted that nonchalance. In truth, he was horny as fuck.

It looked like the fun had only begun.

“Mm. Impressive,” he said in a hoarse voice, getting to his feet. “I take it as a compliment, mu’hrōnye. Why don’t you strip now, eh?”

Without a word and under his close supervision, I started to undress.

“We’re getting a full day of riding tomorrow. Are you sure you want to take what I’m about to dish out?”

At the thought of squirming in my saddle throughout the following day, excitement swirled low in my belly. I nodded.

Ervyn gave a husky laugh. “Good. But this time, I want to hear you. Your pretty little moans, every sigh. Give it all to me.”

Thank fuck. After all, hadn’t that been the reason why we’d pitched our tent far away from Heinnés’?

* * *

Chapter 8

THE CAPITAL

Asirhwÿn

ERVYN

Queen Nae’amh, the second of her name, held many official titles. The Ruler of the Elven Country. The Protector of Crown Dependencies and Sovereign of the Empire. The Commander-in-Chief of the Elven Forces. But she also had one given to her by her subjects, which declared her Yrtŭs nii Arūkéro—First Amongst Archers.

Her Grace loved all troops, no matter their outfit or banner. Common knowledge had it, however, that she favoured the Mounted Highland Regiment. She would often ride out from the palace to take part in shooting drills alongside her Guard in the nearby Bastion of Asirhwÿn.

And that was where she’d ordered us to meet her.

When Heinnés had announced we would be staying there for a few days, delight had sparked amongst the lads. The lodgings in the garrison—where we’d been housed on previous visits to the Silver City—came with spacious guest barracks, state-of-the-art training facilities, a fancy bathhouse and food to die for. For me, it also offered a chance to see my cousin. I had to admit I’d missed Verhan a fair deal, gobshite or not.

We arrived before noon. The checkpoint guards let us through and we fanned out through the courtyard.

It didn’t matter how many times I laid my eyes on the bastion—it never failed to impress anew. The smooth walls and towering turrets seemed to glitter, the sunlight bouncing off the white surfaces all around.

Fuck, but was it scorching out there. Ball-roasting hot. For all Asirhwÿn’s grandeur, the whole province had one fundamental flaw I couldn’t overlook—the heat. I worried I would liquidise into my boots by nightfall. I never needed proof that I’d made the right decision by choosing the Scouts over the Queen’s Guard—I knew I had. But the climate, which I considered simply anti-Highlander in essence, confirmed it tenfold.

Just as we dismounted and stretched our limbs, more hooves hit the stone on a two-beat rhythm. Five riders reined in their horses and joined us on the quadrangle.

Heinnés was the first to recognise the golden-haired woman who led the party on a buckskin stallion. “Scouts, fall in. Attention,” he yelled and himself gave a smart salute.

The queen returned it and jumped down from her saddle.

Her entourage followed suit. It consisted of a white-robed Mage and three Northern swordmasters, whose mean mugs wouldn’t look out of place on highway robbers.

Tall, muscular and clad in the regimental blue and silver, the queen presented as one of the senior officers. But even without uttering a word, she exuded an air of command.

“Lazlo.” She greeted Heinnés with an energetic bob of her head that sent her long braid swinging across her shoulder. “Grand to see you and your lads.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” the commander replied.

The queen glanced down at Sigrunés, who lay in a heap on the ground where we left him, still deep in his magical slumber. “You’ve got the little shit for me, then. Very well.”

Her tone didn’t bode well at all for the Creator.