Page 22 of Fated Flames: Volume Two
“Did Princess Serah best you in combat?” the king asks.
Yarl, the oldest of the group, answers without hesitation. “She did, Your Majesty.”
My mouth falls open, sudden indignation momentarily replacing my fear for them. “I did no such thing.” I only wanted to leave my room; we never engaged in formal combat.
The king continues as if I said nothing. “I leave you two choices then. Exile or swear yourself to her.”
I gasp aloud.
What?
The guards don’t confer. They don’t even open their eyes.
“We swear ourselves to you, Princess Serah,” they say in unison.
I’d prepared myself to beg for them, to plead on my own knees if need be. Justified as my stubbornness may have been, I would not let these men be executed for it.
But of all the scenarios I was frightened of, having someone—threesomeones—sworn to me today never entered my mind. I’m already chafing under the feel of eyes watching me from every side. The idea of having three more pairs assigned to me makes me want to scream.
“I don’t need them,” I say out of unadulterated panic.
The guards visibly flinch. The king only looks back at me with mild interest. “Then you sentence them to exile,” he says.
My lips pinch together.Of all the underhanded…
“Of course not,” I say. “Let them remain royal guards.”
“They will. They will guard their queen.”
I’m about to launch into a rebuttal when Boyd, who surely can’t want to swear himself to a human, says in a strained voice, “Please, Princess Serah. Have mercy on us, and we will serve you well.” His comrades make sounds of assent, and even Rally sends me a pleading look.
Oh, for stars’ sake. I cast my eyes toward the sky in helpless aggravation.
“I release you to her then,” Soren says, and as if he’s only overseen some mundane task of little importance, he holds a hand out to me. I give it a brief glare before begrudgingly taking it and allowing him to guide me outside.
Immediately, I begin formulating a counterargument, but the sight of the crowd camped out along the lake’s rim renders me temporarily speechless. Countless campfires flicker in the oncoming twilight. I had no idea so many more had come, and only by giving myself a shake do I bring myself back to the issue at hand.
“Your Majesty, these are your guards,” I say with a glance behind me. They’re following, of course. “They should remain with you.”
Soren’s mouth twitches. “So it’s Your Majesty again, is it?”
“I’m considering it,” I sniff.
He openly chuckles. “I told you, whatever is mine is yours. Consider their transfer to your authority a gift, if it pleases you.”
“What would please me is you returning them to their proper positions. I don’t wish to be followed everywhere I go.”
“You are to be queen. Being followed is inevitable.”
“But I don’t want them.” I confess this comes out in a bit of a whine.
He glances ahead, eyes narrowing. “These are dragons’ ways, Princess.”
I’m forced to table my protests as I follow his gaze to three figures in the distance, their winged silhouettes framed by the twilit sky. Though their wings lend all of them greater size, the figure in the middle is markedly larger.
“The wyverns?” I ask.
“Indeed.”
