Noah hesitated. “Emrys needs to be the one to tell you. Until then, it would be wise for you to stay here where both Marc and I can protect you.”
“I don’t understand why I need protecting.” Trystan bristled, yanking his hand from Marc’s hold. He paced away, hands low on his hips. “I may not be as tall as most men, but I am strong, and I’m skilled in combat, Father. You trained me yourself.”
“You misunderstand, Trystan.” Pushing his chair back, Noah stood and crossed the room to where Trystan stood. “I know little more than you, my son, but these threats arising from your past are unlike anything you know. Without Emrys to guide you, the consequences could be disastrous, even deadly.”
Trystan huffed a breath and grabbed his bow and quiver from its corner perch, heading for the door.
“Where are you going?” Noah asked.
“Hunting.” Trystan swung the door open and slammed it shut behind him. He made it all of ten yards before Marc caught up with him.
“Mind if I join you?”
“Not at all, but I would advise against ordering me back inside right now.”
“I am simply here to protect what’s mine.”
Trystan halted in the middle of the grassy meadow, half way between the cottage and the old oak under which he’d spent many hours reading. Marc stopped beside him, his eyes dark and focused on Trystan’s, hair flopping in the light wind.
“I don’t mind you protecting me—I would do the same for you—but I refuse to cower in my own home. If it were that dangerous, I have to believe Emrys would have explained more before disappearing so abruptly.”
Marc stared at him.
“What?”
“You are infinitely more than I expected upon first glance. Not as naïve as I initially assumed, but I should have known that the one fate chose for me would prove to be more than worthy.”
Trystan scoffed at the Prince. “Others would do well not to underestimate me.”
“Perchance that is a strength of yours you can leverage. The ability to deceive an enemy with your youth and presumed innocence.”
“Hmm.” Trystan tossed the idea around in his head. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”
Marc closed the space between them, grabbing Trystan’s leather tunic, and pulled him closer. “And I had not imagined it so difficult to keep from kissing you.” His lips hovered over Trystan’s.
“Then kiss me.”
Marc covered Trystan’s mouth with his, kissing him hard and deep. A hushed groan stuck in Trystan’s throat as the heat of Marc’s touch consumed him. Trystan melted in his arms, amazed at the incredible way this man made him feel.
***
“Ah. I win this hand, Your Grace,” Noah proclaimed, a huge grin on his face.
From his chair near the hearth, Trystan smiled. It had been many months since he’d seen his father genuinely happy.
Marc laughed. “Six hands to my nine. You have some catching up to do.” He grabbed his mug made from deer horn and took a swig of ale. “No letting me win now, Noah.”
“I would never, Your Grace.”
“Good.”
Both seemed a little tipsy as Trystan rose from his chair, setting his book on the seat. He opened the door leading to the back garden.
“Trystan, where are you going, my love?”
Trystan paused in the open doorway. “To get some air. Maybe tend to the garden. I shouldn’t be long.”
He stepped outside in the cool evening air as the light from the setting sun below the horizon cast a glow across the western sky. Walking around to the side of the cottage, he inspected the small vegetable garden then grabbed an empty bucket and headed down to the stream.
