Page 13 of His Noble Savior (Folk of Vale #3)

Richard

Nothing compared to Lilian coming on his cock. He climaxed riding Richard, his snug, hot hole convulsing. Richard jerked him, ensuring he came as hard as possible. When those slick walls clamped down on him, there was no holding back. With Lilian moaning and squirming on top of him, Richard came in the tight heat of his channel.

White spots danced before his eyes as he emptied into that lithe body. He stroked Lilian, keeping his orgasmic waves flowing. It caused him to contract around Richard with savage force, granting him a powerful release.

With a last spurt, Richard finished, sagging against the tub’s back. Lilian collapsed on top of him, panting against his ear as he came down from his high, his hole quivering with delicious aftershocks.

“You came inside me,” Lilian softly moaned, sounding unreasonably happy. “I loved that.”

Richard kissed his cheek and stroked his back. He took Lilian in his arms and held him close. Richard had never come so hard. Lilian brought out his protective streak and at the same time sparked a lust Richard had never known.

He burned for Lilian. He’d do anything to keep him safe and satisfied. If only they weren’t on borrowed time. As much as Richard wanted to protect Lilian from the orcs, they were bound to overrun Vale. The only thing that could thwart them was an alliance with the Spring Queen. It didn’t matter whether Richard wanted to marry Princess Bellerose or not. Taking her as his bride would save his family, and Lilian would be protected by the wards surrounding the Spring Court. And yet, Richard’s heart screamed for Lilian. A stone settled in his stomach at the thought of sharing his bedchamber with anyone else. Or letting Lilian out of it.

The following weeks passed in a blur of furious lovemaking. Lilian’s wound had healed, and he didn’t need the faerie oil anymore, but they continued applying it anyway. It was a flimsy excuse to get his fingers inside Lilian and rub and prod him to climax morning and night, and sometimes in between too.

Lilian’s newfound sexual appetite proved insatiable, and their ample use of faerie oil fueled his needs further. After multiple orgasms on Richard’s fingers, Lilian, covered in a sheen of sweat, would gently push him onto his back and ride him. The moment Lilian convulsed in release, clenching on Richard’s cock, he was done for. He came hard and fast inside Lilian, their joint climax the only thing that pacified Lilian’s relentless urges. Richard was in heaven.

One morning, they were lying in bed after a particularly intense round of sex, Lilian sprawled on top of him, panting, Richard’s cock still inside of him, somehow still half-hard. He wouldn’t have been able to keep up with any other lover this hungry for sex, but a sultry look from Lilian or a low moan in his ear was enough to get him up.

“I miss making pottery,” Lilian said, his index finger drawing circles on Richard’s shoulder. “I used to do it every day before the orcs caught me. Don’t get me wrong, I love that you’ve given me the opportunity to paint, but I miss working with my hands, getting them wet and dirty.”

Mischief tickled Richard. “I don’t know; I think you often work with your hands. Get them wet and dirty too.”

Lilian gave an amused huff. “I do enjoy having your cum all over them.”

Richard sobered. “But I get it. You miss your old routine. There must be a lot of things from your life in the faerie realm that you miss.”

The last sentence left a bitter taste in Richard’s mouth. He provided for Lilian, but as nice as Somerdale Castle was, it wasn’t Lilian’s old home, his familiar environment. Eventually, Lilian would want to return.

“It helps that it’s springtime here. Winter was awful.” Lilian shivered; he hadn’t meant just the weather.

“What can I do to make you feel more at home? There’s an unused room on the ground floor that we could turn into a potter’s workshop for you.”

Lilian rolled off him, Richard’s cock slipping free. He winced at the loss of that soft, snug heat.

“You’re already doing too much for me.”

Richard lay on his back, thinking. He wanted to give Lilian what he needed, but at the same time, he didn’t want to make him feel more indebted than Lilian already did. As a fae, he’d be compelled to repay Richard, and in Lilian’s mind, his debt was mounting. Richard couldn’t care less if Lilian ever “compensated” him, their relationship wasn’t transactional to him. Fae nature was strong though, and Lilian would feel overburdened if Richard did too much. Building Lilian a pottery wasn’t a good idea in light of this, but how about something smaller that’d make him happy?

Richard ran a strand of Lilian’s soft hair between his fingers. “Would you like to visit the artisans in Somerdale? There’s a potter among them.”

Lilian’s face lit up. “That’d be wonderful.”

“You don’t mind leaving the castle? I’d come with you, of course, and have two knights accompany us.”

“As long as you’re with me, I’d go anywhere.”

Richard’s heart clenched. If only he could be Lilian’s. He hadn’t heard from Queen Dahlia in recent weeks, and he should send another missive, press her for a betrothal to her daughter, but he was stalling. What he, the Baron of Somerdale, should do and what he, Richard the man, wanted to do were very different things.

Somerdale was a short ride from the castle. The town stretched between the hill and the eastern bank of the River Somer, the path lined with blooming trees and strawberry fields.

The scent of flowers and ripening fruit accompanied them as they rode toward the houses on the other end of the fields. Lilian sat in front of Richard, his feet hanging off to one side of the horse as he wore a forest green, hooded robe, which came down to his ankles. The dressmaker Richard had ordered to the castle had tailored it for Lilian in the fashion of the Spring Court. Lavish embroidery decorated the front, and the sleeves ended in delicate frills. It cut an androgynous figure and underlined Lilian’s ravishing beauty.

It was the first time Lilian left the castle since his arrival, and Richard watched for signs of fear but found none. Lilian’s growing confidence was a relief. His moments of shakiness had become rare, which brought Richard great joy. Lilian was flourishing.

Reaching Somerdale, Richard greeted the townspeople on the streets with a raise of his hand. They bowed, and judging by the excitement on their faces, he hadn’t visited Somerdale enough in recent months. The people liked seeing their lord, and Richard had been too preoccupied with the war. He should’ve visited more frequently.

The artisan quarter was clustered around a small square. The biting smells of tanning and dyeing wafted between the buildings, and the creaking and clacking of looms rattled the air.

Their first stop was the potter. Richard knocked on the half- open door of the workshop, and a female voice answered, telling him to come inside. Miss Bennett, a stocky woman in her sixties, was sitting at her potter’s wheel. It clattered as she worked the treadle, the noise mixing with the slapping sound of water meeting clay. The smell of damp soil filled the hut, strong but not unpleasant. Miss Bennett positively beamed when her eyes landed on Richard, recognition sparking in them.

“My lord.” Miss Bennett got to her feet and bowed, her gray hair plastered to her head by the sweat of hard work. “What an honor to receive you.” She looked at her hands, which were muddy with clay, and went to wash them. “I’m sorry my lord, I must’ve forgotten you were planning to visit…”

Richard reassured her that he hadn’t announced his call and that she didn’t need to fuss over him. Miss Bennett didn’t listen, frantically whirling through her shop to clean the items on display.

“There’s someone I’d like you to meet,” Richard said, and Lilian stepped inside behind him, the knights hanging back outside the door. They’d come for Richard and Lilian’s protection, but he preferred if they stayed out of sight when he visited shops, lest the townspeople take their presence as a threat, a sign of their lord wielding his power. Nothing could be further from the truth—Richard would rather be loved than feared by his subjects. “This is Lilian from the Spring Court. He is my guest at Somerdale Castle. Lilian, meet Miss Bennett, our local potter.”

“Oh,” Miss Bennett said, “what a pleasure to meet you, Lord Lilian.”

“Just Lilian. I’m no lord,” he said with high color on his cheeks.

“Well, then…”

“Lilian makes pottery in the faerie realm, and I thought it’d be nice to show him how humans perform the craft,” Richard said, gesturing at the potter’s wheel and the colorful array of bowls, cups, jars and jugs for sale.

“Of course!” Miss Bennett said, watching wearily as Lilian approached her potter’s wheel.

Most humans were apprehensive toward fae, though it was the dark fae of the Autumn and Winter Courts that gave their species a bad name. A spring fae was unlikely to cause harm, but to calm Miss Bennett, Richard mouthed, “He’s fine,” at her, fighting a chuckle.

Lilian inspected the wheel, crouching down to examine the treadle. “You need to move this to get it to spin?”

Miss Bennett threw Richard a glance, clearly not sure what to make of Lilian. “Yes?”

“Interesting. Mine runs on magic.” Lilian rose, tucking a strand of hair behind his pointy ear. He proceeded to examine the goods for sale.

“Where would we be able to purchase good quality clay?” Richard inquired, dragging Miss Bennett’s attention away from Lilian.

“Well, clay is found in the soil outside town along the river bank. The quality varies, though if that’s important, I could obtain good clay for you?”

“Perhaps another time, but I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you.” Richard scratched his head. “I was also looking to buy a vase for my chambers, do you perhaps have something… floral?”

That got Miss Bennett excited, and she bustled through the workshop, showing him a selection of painted vases. Richard had little understanding of craftsmanship and artistic value, and he let Lilian pick one for him. He decided on a pink and green one, for which Miss Bennett named a stately price. Lilian was about to haggle when Richard handed her the coins. He could afford to pay more than her usual customers, and Richard seized the opportunity to make one of his subjects happy.

Miss Bennett wrapped the vase in cloth so it wouldn’t get damaged on the ride home. They said their goodbyes, and Richard took Lilian to the other shops. He bought a little something everywhere, gathering goodwill.

Their last stop was the weaver where Richard asked to be shown a selection of floral rugs. A matching pair to be put on either side of his bed would add color to his chamber. The weaver presented them with a large pile, and Lilian helped him select a pair of mint green bedside carpets embellished with orange and pink flowers.

Back at the castle, servants unloaded the horses, taking Richard’s purchases to his chambers. Before he had a chance to set foot over the threshold, the steward came rushing toward him.

“My lord,” she said, handing him a letter, “a missive from Castlehill arrived in your absence.”

Richard thanked her and took the letter, breaking the House Aranin seal. Missives from James were important—they could contain news about Nathan’s whereabouts or critical strategic information. He unfolded the paper, expecting a slew of military intelligence.

It was a wedding invitation.

“What?” Richard grabbed onto the entrance door’s frame for balance.

“What does it say?” Lilian asked, leaning in.

Richard’s eyes flew over the neatly written lines. His disbelief grew with every word he read. “James is getting married… to Raziel.”

“But elves are prohibited from entering romantic relations.”

“I know.” Richard scanned the rest of the missive, his eyebrows rising at the contents. “Raziel was arrested on orders of the elven princess for crimes of lust. He and James were put through a trial by ordeal, which they miraculously passed. He doesn’t say what happened exactly, but it must’ve been impressive enough for the elves to regard his relationship with Raziel as sanctioned by the Lady.”

Lilian gaped. “So they’re betrothed?”

“Yes. With a wedding date set for early summer. I’m surprised James is going to marry while the war is raging, but this seems important to him.”

“Did you suspect anything when they were here?”

Richard shook his head. “Raziel was very protective, even for a personal guard. I assumed he was just exceedingly diligent, which is to be expected of an elf. I didn’t think they were lovers.”

James had struck an exceptionally advantageous match with Raziel. Fae were strong and made excellent knights, but elves outmatched them in strength, speed and skill. With an elf in his marital chamber, nobody would dare lay a hand on James. The letter said nothing about the political consequences of their union, but since elves didn’t meddle in human affairs, marrying one could only help James.

It’d be the second advantageous union for House Aranin within nine months. First Henry’s wedding to King Malorn of the Autumn Court, and now James. The Daltons and the Aranins might be cousins, but they were also rivals. If Richard didn’t get betrothed to Princess Bellerose, his house’s power would decline, and with decaying power came a loss of safety. Richard decidedly ignored it in favor of spending time with Lilian.

Once Richard’s purchases had been set up in his chambers, he accompanied Lilian to the flowerbeds in the garden. Lilian cut carnations and tulips to be placed in the vases around the castle. Richard smiled as Lilian helped him decorate. Visiting the artisans had sparked something in Lilian. It was no accident that their purchases had been spring-themed.

The following day, Richard arranged for a light lunch to be brought outside for him and Lilian. The weather was sunny, and while they could’ve eaten on the terrace, Richard wanted to surprise Lilian with something romantic.

The servants had placed a large blanket under the blooming apple trees in a corner of the outer courtyard and brought small bowls of fresh fruit and cream to indulge in. Lilian’s eyes went wide with wonder when Richard led him to their little slice of heaven. They stretched out on the blanket, which was of the finest wool and impossibly soft to the touch.

“This is amazing,” Lilian said and picked a deep red cherry from a bowl, popping it into his mouth. He hummed as he chewed, his eyes closing in bliss.

Thanks to their outdoor activities, Lilian’s pallor had given way to a light tan. In the warmth of the spring sun, his skin flushed to a soft pink.

On the other side of the courtyard, gnomes were working the vegetable patches, their chatter drifting over. They were the friendliest and cutest of the fair folk. At only a foot tall, they were creatures in need of protection. Humans let them live in their gardens where they were safe from predators, and in exchange, the gnomes grew food, sharing the harvest with their hosts.

A male with a pointy red hat, under which a mane of thick white hair poked out, waved at them. Richard lifted his hand in greeting. He didn’t think much of it until the gnome grabbed a bowl, ran to the strawberry bushes and started picking fruit. Strawberries piled in the bowl, the gnome waddled over to their blanket. He panted, the bowl heavy for the little guy, and Richard made to get up and help him, but the gnome got there first.

He bowed and greeted them, presenting Richard with the plump berries, their red skin shiny in the sun. Richard thanked him and accepted the gift. As a lord with plenty of resources, he didn’t take half the gnomes’ harvest as most patrons would have, and so the gnomes brought him little offerings whenever they saw him. The gnome threw Lilian a cautious look, then departed with a bow.

“I think you scare them,” Richard said with a chuckle once the gnome was out of earshot.

“I’d never hurt a gnome.”

“They say that your kind is quite mischievous.”

Lilian shrugged. “Maybe they say that because we collect all debts. Wronging a fae is dangerous.” He said it in such a serious tone that a shiver raced down Richard’s back. Lilian’s features morphed into a smile. “The opposite is also true. I owe you more than you know, so you have nothing to worry about.”

So Richard had been right. The burden of debt weighed on Lilian’s mind.

“I won’t insult your culture by saying don’t repay me,” Richard said, “but know that it can wait. Also, I accept payment in back rubs.”

Lilian’s lips twitched. “Do you?”

“Oh yes.”

“I’ve accumulated so much debt, I could massage you every day for the rest of your life, and it wouldn’t be enough.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“I’ll also decorate your castle,” Lilian said with a wave of determination. “Yesterday was a start, but more can be done. I have a lot of ideas.”

Lilian went on to elaborate on what additions he’d make to the decor. Curtains here, a painting there, perhaps a few more rugs. Richard almost laughed. People were right when they said fae repaid their debts the way they felt was right.

Lilian described what Richard envisioned a palace of the Spring Court to look like. Lilian’s eyes gleamed with joy as he spoke of floral motifs on towels, dishes and even broomsticks. If Richard gave him free rein, Lilian would transform Somerdale Castle into a flower palace. Richard wasn’t going to stop him. With reminders of spring everywhere, Lilian would feel at home during all seasons.

Richard picked up a strawberry and dipped it into the cream. He offered it to Lilian, interrupting his torrent of words. Lilian’s lips wrapped around the juicy fruit, moaning as he licked across Richard’s fingers.

Lilian’s eyes closed in bliss. “Yes, keep adding to my debt.”

“So that I get to keep you and make you repay me slowly?”

“Something like that. Very slowly.”

The apple tree above them rustled. A sparrow had landed, rolling its brown head left and right as it regarded the food on the blanket.

“Someone’s hungry,” Richard said and took a few crumbs from the breadbasket. He threw them into the grass, and the sparrow fluttered off the tree to pick at them.

“You’re always helping others,” Lilian said. “You overpaid the potter, you feed birds, you saved me…”

“I’m in a position of extreme privilege through no virtue of my own. I have everything I do because I was born into a noble house. The least I can do is share my wealth with those who have less.”

Lilian tore off small pieces of bread and fed them to the bird. “I’ve always been on the other end. Living in the Spring Court, I didn’t have much, and I held onto my possessions with clenched fists. If I hadn’t, my things would’ve been taken from me. I never shared food with a bird for fear that I might not have enough to eat myself and regret it.” He threw the bird another piece. “This feels both frivolous and liberating.”

“But you said you used to feed ducks.”

“Yes, for good luck. Trust me, it works. There was nothing selfless about it.”

“Do you miss the Spring Court?”

Lilian fell silent. He picked up an apple slice and bit into it. Richard followed suit, the sweet, juicy taste running over his tongue.

“I don’t know,” Lilian finally said. “Your castle is a good place to be.”

“Do you miss the food?”

“Sometimes. Not now, when we’re having such amazing fresh fruit. We eat that too in the faerie realm. Human food is far better than what I got in captivity.” Lilian made a disgusted sound. “But yes, there are foods we have at the Spring Court that don’t exist in the human world. Certain types of apples and mushrooms for example. We also bake special types of cakes. I couldn’t afford the ingredients often, but those tarts and flans are delicious.”

Richard’s heart filled with sorrow. He’d ensure Lilian got the cakes he liked so much. “If you know how to make those treats, you could show the cook how to prepare them. With the Summer Court so close, Resh can get you faerie ingredients.”

“That’d be wonderful.” Lilian’s eyes shone. “Then you can enjoy some faerie food too while I’m here.”

While I’m here . Richard had no right to feel disappointed at the reminder that Lilian was a guest, not a resident of the castle. But then why did it hurt so much?

Outside the gate, a horn sounded, the signal rising full and bright above the walls. Richard sat up, eyeing the gate as his knights slid open the peephole cover. It was most likely a messenger.

“Princess Bellerose of the Spring Court and her royal household,” a knight announced.

Richard snapped around to Lilian, who’d gone ramrod stiff, eyes bulging with shock.