“Watch it, Wolfie,” one squeaks.
“Get a bath,” another groans.
“Is that a wart?” a grumpy one snaps. “You need to get that checked. I don’t want to catch it.”
“Ignore them,” Bronn advises as the final one blows a raspberry.
I smile as Hart goes next and delight in their cute reactions to my knight.
“Ooh, a maiden,” the first one whispers. “Not seen one of those this annus.”
“Who is your beau?” the next one wonders.
“You’re looking at them,” I answer.
There’s a collective shocked gasp followed by silence. Wow, I shocked the opinionated wood speechless.
“Greedy,” the final one says, breaking the judgy atmosphere.
I shrug as I follow Hart and Bronn down a hallway past the doors. “I care little for your opinion when I’m not hurting anyone.”
The knocker, shaped like a lion’s head, stretches out from the wood to twist its head and take in our group. “I think it’s you who might get hurt. That’s a lot of knights to accommodate.”
My lips twitch. “I’m missing one, and I can accommodate them fine, but thank you for your concern.”
Bronn throws open the door and shows us inside. The room is small but warm, lit by a single lantern. The bed dominates the space, piled high with quilts and furs. It’s very much a one-bed situation.
“You have your own bathroom with a deep tub,” Bronn says, pointing to a curtain against the wall. “If you have any questions, Greta is your granny on service tonight. See you all at breakfast.” He pushes past my knights and disappears down the talking stairs.
My knights fill the doorway behind me like a wall of muscle and bad decisions. I turn and tuck my hands behind my back and purse my lips. “Well, this is awkward.”
“Is it?” Nash murmurs.
Malachi leans against the doorframe. “Feels familiar.”
Hart shuts the door behind us with a soft click. “What did you declare, Calamity? That you could accommodate us just fine?”
My pulse stutters. “Theoretically.”
Nash pulls his shirt over his head, revealing an expanse of smooth, toned muscle that makes me eager to trace each ridge with my fingers and my tongue.
One bed.
A cocky maiden.
Three knights.
Challenge accepted.
Chapter Eleven
Daphne
How many knights does it take to make a maiden speechless? None in my case—the word vomit never ceases even when I try to tame it. “Do you think Bronn bought that red cape from the market, or is it a reminder of his victim and his road to redemption?”
Malachi drags a chair from the corner and jams it under the door handle before sliding Excalibur onto the dresser.
No escape. Not that I’d want one.
