Page 23 of His Noble Savior (Folk of Vale #3)

Richard

Lilian remained silent for a long time. When he spoke, he startled Richard and the others out of their thoughts. “I will only rest easy once the orcs who abducted me have been punished.” He turned in Richard’s lap, looking at him as if he expected him to argue. “They’ve gravely wronged me, and this cannot stand. I’ve escaped them, but they’ll find another man to take. If they haven’t already.”

Richard cupped Lilian’s cheek. He’d thought about bringing the orcs to justice, but after the savagery they had put Lilian through, Richard hadn’t wanted to expose him to violence. “I will gladly avenge you.”

“Me too,” Ogharod said. “Those orcs must be killed.” They all turned to him. Would he really go after his own kind? Ogharod straightened. “They’ve brought shame onto all orcs, and that must be rectified. I will pursue those who’ve hurt my friend.”

“We’re with you.” George interlinked his hand with Resh’s.

“So am I,” said Nathan. “We’ll make them pay for what they’ve done.”

“I’ll send a knight to scout the south,” Richard said. “When she finds the orcs, we’ll launch an attack on their camp and put an end to them.”

“I don’t want you to put yourselves at risk for my revenge,” Lilian said.

“You’re family,” George said, and warmth filled Richard’s chest. “I don’t take it kindly when a horde of savages hurts one of ours.”

“Then I’ll ride with you. I’m not going to let you endanger yourselves while I stand by.”

“Are you sure you want to face them?” Richard asked. “I want you safe. We have the numbers to do it without you. There’s five of us plus the castle guards. I can pull knights from the south, and if I sent a letter to House Aranin, I bet Cordelia would be thrilled to join us.”

Cordelia was James and Henry’s younger sister. She’d shown exceptional capability with the sword, the kind of skill that only emerged once in a generation. James was reining her in because she was young, but Richard had seen the eagerness in her eyes. Cordelia would leap at the opportunity to join an orc hunt.

“I’m sure,” Lilian said. “This is my fight more than it is yours.”

It was decided. In theory, there could’ve been a trial, but since Ellesmere was in Richard’s jurisdiction, he, as the local lord, was the judge of any case brought before him. And he’d seen enough. He’d seen Lilian run from the orcs, had seen his wounds and heard his testimony. That was all he needed to proceed with execution. No need to make Lilian relive the worst months of his life in a formal hearing where he’d have to face his abusers and listen to their lies. Richard would never put him through that.

That night, Richard drafted missives to his knights at the front, James, and King Malorn to liberate troops to put down the orcs who’d taken Lilian. Normally, Richard chose forgiveness over violence, but for Lilian, he’d raze kingdoms. If Lilian wanted his debt paid in blood, it would be. He was the gentlest being Richard knew, but there was a reason why humans never crossed a fae. Wronging them was dangerous, a lesson those orcs would soon learn.

The scout Richard had sent south returned, reporting that the six orcs hadn’t moved from the camp where they’d held Lilian. They were lying in wait to seize a man from Ellesmere. Richard seethed at their brazenness.

On the day of the attack, the Autumn Court forces and Cordelia joined them at Somerdale Castle. Together, they rode south, the House Dalton banner streaming in the wind, Richard and Lilian at the head of the train. It was an unseasonably cool day, the stiff breeze chilling their faces, clouds racing over the sky above.

A quarter mile before Ellesmere, they met with a contingent of knights called back from the front. Richard drove the troops into a joint formation and turned to face the man he loved. Lilian sat on his own horse, a choice they’d made for tactical reasons, but Richard loved the confidence and independence Lilian had gained in recent weeks. Holding his head high, his slender body gracefully controlling the gelding, he was a far cry from the frightened young man who’d run into Richard’s arms. His unlikely friendship with Ogharod had given him visible self-assuredness.

“We’re reading to charge,” Richard told him.

Lilian’s lips thinned into a tight line, and he gave a nod. He spun his horse to face the other riders and address them. “Today, the orcs will pay for what they did,” Lilian said. “You have my gratitude for helping me exact due vengeance.”

Richard led the assault, tearing forward on his steed, the knights on his heels. Hooves thundered through the valley, sending dirt and tufts of grass flying left and right. The riders charged toward the grove, Lilian galloping to the side, keeping his distance from the encampment. For now.

They surrounded the camp with raised swords, the noise of two dozen riders drawing out the orcs. Confusion furrowed the orcs’ brows as they found themselves outnumbered four to one. Their eyes, wide with surprise, flew to a place past Richard, to where Lilian was sitting high on his horse.

Richard surged forward, and in a heartbeat, he was in the thick of it, driving his blade into the beasts that had violated the love of his life. Around him, all hell broke loose. Lilian raced onto the field.

Ogharod’s participation was as fierce as Richard and Lilian’s; he was slashing at orcs every which way. Blood flowed, drenching the battlefield red.

When it was done, Richard jumped off his horse. He pulled a knife from the sheath on his hip and cut off the skull-adorned belt of his kill. With his clothes stained crimson, Richard trudged toward Lilian, carrying the belt like a trophy, dropping it at his feet.

“This is what I’ll do to any man who lays hand on you,” Richard said. “These orcs will never hurt anyone again.”

“And I can finally move on. My heart is light. All because of you. I owe you my greatest debt.”

“I’m so proud of you,” Richard said, clasping Lilian’s hand where it curled around the hilt of his sword. “You’ve come so far.”

In the following days, a new lightness swung in Lilian’s steps. Soon, he and Richard traveled to James and Raziel’s wedding, which took place at the church in Castlehill town. Light streamed in from the tall windows, hitting the marble floor and the stucco sprawling across the walls. At the back of the chancel hung a painting of the Lady in a golden dress, a crown of stars on her head, the crescent of the moon at her feet.

James’s siblings and cousins, along with their partners, filled the elegantly carved wooden seats lining the sides of the chancel. Noble and royal guests attended the ceremony from the gallery while the lower nobility populated the pews in the church’s nave. The elves hadn’t sent representatives, and Richard wasn’t surprised. The Lady had given James and Raziel her blessing, but the elves, while they couldn’t prosecute them without fearing the literal wrath of God, weren’t happy with a marriage that went against their law. The human priestess who’d conduct the ceremony had no such qualms, and neither did the faerie courts. The Spring Court, of course, was notably absent, but Prince Elior of the Summer Court joined the human nobles in the gallery.

Ogharod, who hadn’t been raised in the church of the Lady but believed in a pantheon of gods, attended the ceremony from a hidden position in the sacristy. Nathan had introduced him to their cousins of House Aranin and the priestess, and after some explanation, they were happy to have him present, though everyone, including Ogharod, thought it was best if the human guests didn’t see him. It’d cause a panic.

As the last guests arrived, the organ set in, its bright and regal music reverberating through the air. The scent of burning incense filled the church, the fragrant smoke wafting through the pews.

Heralded by a procession of altar boys and girls, the priestess stepped through the portal at the back of the church. The young acolytes proceeded along the aisle and lined the altar, watching the priestess climb the steps to the chancel.

The organ music swelled, and after a minute, James and Raziel appeared at the entrance. They were radiant. James was dressed in all white, while Raziel wore a light blue ensemble and had twisted his hair into an elegant braid. They’d pinned lilies to their jackets, and matching lion rings graced their fingers. With bright smiles on their faces, they walked down the aisle, holding hands.

It was rare for a couple to enter the church together, but a human baron and an elf knight were of the same rank in the social hierarchy, and James and Raziel took obvious pleasure in displaying their unity.

“They’re so beautiful,” Lilian whispered, and Richard nodded. As an elf, Raziel was gorgeous by nature, and James had always possessed an elf-like beauty.

“Not as beautiful as you are.” Lilian wore a pale pink silk robe, which underlined his fair locks and kunzite eyes. Thankfully, Lilian hadn’t come to hate the latter. The color of his irises was a visible mark of his reduced lifespan, but Richard found his eyes striking.

Lilian leaned in. “You don’t look so bad yourself.” Richard had gone for an unobtrusive taupe ensemble, but the way Lilian’s gaze ate him up spoke volumes.

With a final swell of the organ, the ceremony began. Unlike Henry and Malorn’s wedding, James and Raziel’s wouldn’t create a soulbond—at least one partner had to be fae for that. They were so in tune with each other, they didn’t need a bond to know what the other was feeling. Theirs was a rare love marriage. Lucky bastards.

Richard watched with mounting envy as the priestess wed them. He yearned to have this connection with Lilian. All Richard had to do was ask for his hand. It meant forgoing all political opportunities. Would it matter? He couldn’t bear the idea of being with anyone but Lilian. Even in a marriage of convenience, Richard would be expected to sleep with his spouse. He might not be physically able to do that—Lilian owned his body and soul.

At the altar, the priestess was speaking the words prescribed by the Book of the Lady while the acolytes rang bells and swung censers. As the ceremony drew toward its conclusion, quiet anticipation filled the congregation.

“Let this union be sealed with a kiss,” the priestess said.

James and Raziel looked at each other with agonizing longing, like they’d waited far too long to celebrate their love openly. They pressed against each other, and in a momentary loss of control, their lips parted. The kiss lasted a heartbeat too long to be proper, but they didn’t care. When they separated, the heat in their eyes promised an epic wedding night.

Next to Richard, Lilian squirmed. His cheeks were flushed—the public display of desire didn’t leave him unaffected. Richard leaned back in his seat so he and Lilian were obstructed from view by Nathan, George and Resh—how the last had gotten into the church without going up in flames was beyond him. Lilian gazed at him with his large, gorgeous pink eyes, and Richard cupped his cheek and slotted their mouths together in a kiss that conveyed the fire in his belly. It was inappropriate in public, but Richard couldn’t hold back. He wanted with Lilian what James and Raziel had—official recognition of their love.

Once the ceremony concluded, the wedding party moved to the castle on the hill. The guests gathered in the great hall where pale yellow walls and enormous refectory tables, set up in the shape of a horseshoe, created a rustic atmosphere. Castlehill’s steward, Andre, was in charge of the festivities, directing the servants in his calm but stern manner. As so often, he’d pulled his brown hair in a tight braid, highlighting his pretty features.

The guests mingled, and Richard took the opportunity to introduce Lilian to the wedding party. Without an official title, Lilian was “a guest from the Spring Court at Somerdale Castle,” which felt inadequate. People had seen Lilian sitting next to him during the ceremony, which implied he was a lot more than that, but no word adequately described their relationship. Raziel was James’s husband; Ogharod was Nathan’s mate. George brazenly introduced Resh as “my master” or “the owner of my soul.”

Everyone was polite, complimenting Lilian on his stunning robe, but Richard longed to give him a title. When King Malorn of the Autumn Court shook Lilian’s hand, Lilian showed no signs of distress. Malorn was a powerful dark fae, but Lilian radiated confidence and smiled at him without a hint of fear. He’d come so far.

From across the room, a flash of copper drew Richard’s attention. There, in a quiet corner, a red-haired boy was speaking with Prince Elior. The prince was regal through and through in his elegant, brocade-trimmed robe. His long, strawberry blond hair fell around his shoulders like a silken veil, his locks shimmering golden. In contrast, the young man wore ordinary clothes and an apron—he wasn’t part of the wedding party, Richard realized, but one of the attendants serving food. He wiped his greasy fingers on his white apron, leaving stains. Prince Elior didn’t notice or care, leaning in closer as they talked in hushed whispers, grinning.

A memory struck Richard—he’d seen these two together before. At Henry’s wedding, where the young man had served food. Later, when the fae danced, he’d joined in—with Prince Elior. Richard remembered because it’d been shockingly stupid on the part of the boy. If a human danced to faerie music, they couldn’t stop unless the music did. People had danced themselves to death before. Yet he had smiled and blindly trusted the prince. Did these two know each other? But how would a human commoner know a fae prince?

An apron-wearing woman with the same bright red hair as the boy stepped through the door and impatiently waved him out of the room. Wasn’t she Castlehill’s new cook?

As the boy followed her outside, Richard couldn’t help but notice the family resemblance. What was a prince of the Summer Court doing with a cook’s son? They seemed close. The Winter King wouldn’t be happy if the rumor that he was courting Prince Elior was true.

When Richard looked back at Prince Elior, he caught him staring. Their eyes locked, and the prince pushed off the wall, striding over to him. Richard’s gaze snapped to Lilian, but he was in an animated conversation with King Malorn.

“Lord Dalton,” the prince said.

As custom demanded, Richard bowed to him. “A pleasure to meet you, Your Highness.”

Prince Elior’s smile was bright and genuine, and if Richard had been worried that he’d observed something he wasn’t supposed to, the prince’s light manner put him at ease.

“I see you have a companion,” Prince Elior said, and Richard’s arm instinctively curled around Lilian’s shoulders.

“This is Lilian, my guest at Somerdale Castle,” Richard said, again wishing he could introduce Lilian with a title to underline his importance.

Lilian bowed to the prince and rose with pink cheeks, snuggling into Richard’s side. Before they could say anything else, the copper-haired boy returned carrying a tray of wine goblets. He beamed at Prince Elior, looking directly at him without bowing. Any other royal guest would’ve demanded the boy be thrown out of the castle, but the prince smiled back and grabbed a goblet of wine. “Thank you.”

Beside Richard, Lilian froze. It took Richard three seconds to realize why—“thank you” wasn’t something fae said. In their culture, the phrase was seen as rude. The boy, who ought to know this, grinned so widely, his cheeks had to hurt.

He hurried away to serve other guests, and Richard glanced after him, wondering what to make of him and the prince. They were, at the very least, close friends. Richard itched to ask, but he wouldn’t. Prince Elior was being courted by the Winter King, and wondering aloud whether there was a “close friend,” a human commoner no less, was disrespectful. Richard had no intention of getting on the prince’s bad side and put the matter out of his mind.

The celebrations culminated in a great feast with food, wine, song and dance that lasted well into the night. In the small hours, Richard and Lilian retired to their guest chamber. It lay in the castle’s narrow north wing and overlooked Castlehill town at the foot of the hill. When the sun rose in a few hours, they’d have a stunning view of the White Mountains, perhaps even see King William’s castle in the distance. The Winter Court wasn’t far from there.

Oil lamps lit the chamber, bringing the crimson walls and the creme carpet to an amber glow while rustic wood furniture cast deep shadows. Richard led Lilian to the four-poster bed, which looked like it’d fallen out of a fairy tale: pristine white sheets lay under an enormous tester from which velvet curtains depicting roses and tendrils hung. Big, fluffy pillows sat against the headboard, and the nightstands sported three-armed candle holders, a small yellow flame dancing on each wick.

Lilian perched on the bed and made to take his clothes off, but Richard stepped in. “Let me help you.” He sank to his knees before Lilian, hands running down his long legs. A thought had hooked itself into his mind. His hands glided to Lilian’s feet and helped him out of his shoes. They were rarely in this position, Richard on his knees, Lilian’s bright eyes smiling down at him. He liked it. They should do this more often.

“I have something to propose to you,” Richard said, “but it must stay between us until we return to Somerdale Castle tomorrow. Can you keep a secret?”

“My lips are sealed.”

Richard slid his hands onto Lilian’s knees. “I want you to know that I’d defend and protect you to my last drop of blood. There’s nothing you could say or do that’d change that.”

“Richard…”

“I swear my love and loyalty to you. I’ll take care of you no matter what, fulfill your every need, and forsake all others. Even a princess. No one can hold a candle to you.”

Lilian palmed Richard’s cheek. “You’re the first person who’s made me feel worthy, and it means the world. All my life, I’ve been discarded and abandoned—until you came. You pursued me when everyone else would’ve been glad I was gone. My gratitude knows no bounds. You’re my light, and I want to pay my debt to you in any way you see fit.”

Lilian’s words hit Richard like a wave, and he had to swallow the emotion brimming in him. “You want to pay your debts?”

“Yes,” Lilian said with an edge of desperation.

“Then as I said, I have a proposal.” Richard, heart pounding, took Lilian’s hands in his. “I’m going to ask you for the most valuable thing you have to give. It’s worth so much that it’ll put me in lifelong debt to you, but I don’t care. It’s all I want.”

“I’d give you anything.”

Richard shook his head. “You should be careful. You can’t lie, and you can’t take back what you just said.”

“I know. Anything I can give is yours,” Lilian said, squeezing Richard’s hands. His large pink eyes were heartbreakingly beautiful.

“I’d like your hand in marriage.”

A shock bolted into Lilian. He yanked his hands out of Richard’s, clasping them in front of his mouth. “That… that’s not… how this… works.”

Richard’s heart sank. His shoulders slumped. He’d been swept away by the euphoria surrounding James and Raziel’s wedding and should’ve known better than to ask Lilian. Richard had wanted too much, and now poor Lilian’s eyes were filling with tears because he’d made a promise he couldn’t get out of.

“Look, we don’t have to—”

“Your hand in marriage is worth more than mine,” Lilian said. “You’re a lord. I’m a destitute lesser fae. If anything, marrying you will put me into greater debt to you.”

Richard frowned. “If you don’t want to marry—”

“Of course I want to marry you.”

A maelstrom of emotion whirled in Richard. “You do?” Then why was Lilian so shocked? Why was he arguing?

“Yes. A thousand times yes.”

Richard launched himself at Lilian and brought their lips together as they fell onto the bed. Lilian had never tasted sweeter.

“You’re going to be mine?”

“Forever,” Lilian said against his lips.

Richard slid into his mouth, earning a soft moan. He stroked Lilian’s tongue, making him arch under his weight.

“I’ll still owe you,” Lilian said when they broke apart, concern lining his brow.

“No. I want a faerie wedding. I want to have you, body and soul, inescapably, forever.”

“I’d have yours too, so we’ll be even at best. I’ll still owe you for everything else.”

“You underestimate your worth,” Richard said. “You’re my sun. You’re the most gorgeous, most tender creature I’ve ever met. I want every part of you, and you’re worth more than anything gold could buy. Accept my hand in marriage, and consider all debts paid, current and future.”

Tears pearled from Lilian’s eyes as he fiercely nodded. “Yes. Marry me. Please.”

Richard kissed his tears away. “Oh, I will.”

Lilian surged and claimed his mouth, curling around him with arms and legs. Richard dropped his weight onto him, and Lilian moaned. Their hands found each other, fingers twining. The day they married, a soulbond would be formed, tying them together irrevocably, bringing them as close as two people could be.

“I can’t wait for your soul to embrace mine,” Lilian whispered. “Nothing will be able to separate us.”

“We’ll be one.”

“Yes.”

“My betrothed,” Richard said with reverence. He couldn’t wait to tell the world that Lilian, this beautiful fae, was his. The announcement would have to wait until they were home. This was James and Raziel’s wedding, and he didn’t want to steal their moment. Richard would tell his family once they returned to Somerdale Castle. Then he’d send letters to his cousins and inform them there’d be another wedding before the summer was out. He’d shout from the rooftops that Lilian had chosen him.

Richard kissed him, deep and possessive, and Lilian unfolded like a flower under him, knees falling to the sides, inviting him inside. But tonight, Richard had different plans. Tonight, he wanted to worship Lilian.

Never breaking the kiss, Richard grasped the skirt of Lilian’s robe and slid it up his body. He pushed onto his elbows when Lilian lifted his hips to allow him to drag the garment over them. Nibbling at Lilian’s lower lip, he brought them into a sitting position. He pulled away for a second to haul the robe over Lilian’s head, then he was back on him, pressing his naked body into the mattress. Lilian wriggled, bumping his hard cock into Richard. He’d be leaving a trail of precum on Richard’s jacket, who couldn’t help but smirk. Maybe he’d “accidentally” wear it again tomorrow, showing the world how happy he made this beautiful creature.

He pecked Lilian’s cheek and jawline before dipping to his pulse point where he briefly sucked, though not long enough to leave a bruise. Peppering his chest with open-mouthed kisses, Richard made him squirm. He ran his tongue over a soft nipple, provoking a moan as the dusty pink skin cinched, pebbling for him. Richard took the erect nub between his lips and squeezed, coaxing a breathy sound out of Lilian. God, he loved how Lilian responded.

Eager to tease more out of him, Richard licked his fingers, and set them on Lilian’s other nipple, pinching the sensitive skin until it firmed. He played with it, then cupped Lilian’s pecs and kissed his way down his body. Lilian’s skin was silk under his lips, and he couldn’t help licking across it. He pressed his open mouth to Lilian’s fluttering stomach while thumbing his hard nipples. The scent of arousal hit him and clouded his mind. He was incapable of thinking about anything but the sweet liquid Lilian leaked. His dick stood tall between his legs, the wide tip dark with desire, the shaft throbbing for Richard.

“God, you have the prettiest cock.”

Tilting his head, Richard mouthed Lilian’s flushed crown. Fuck, so smooth and yet so hard. He loved that cock.

Lilian cried out when Richard flicked his slit. A gush of precum squirted onto Richard’s tongue, getting him drunk on its salty flavor. Determined to prompt another sluice, he licked at Lilian’s glans, his tongue flitting across the satiny skin until more fluid spilled for him to lap up.

Shaky hands laced into his curls. Nothing was better than Lilian taking control. He directed Richard’s head, pushing him onto his cock.

Richard practically drooled when he opened up to let him in. He was rock-hard inside his trousers, his dick weeping precum. Lilian’s flared head slid between his lips, and Richard licked across it, triggering a helpless whimper along with another trickle. It coated his tongue, and he swallowed, his mouth closing around Lilian as he pushed deeper.

A yell of pleasure bolted out of Lilian. He snapped his hips, burying his length to the root in Richard’s mouth, who fought his gag reflex, relaxing the muscles at the back of his throat. As he forced himself to breathe deeply, the tension waned. Lilian held him in place, and Richard closed his eyes, indulging in the fullness in his mouth, in the knowledge that he was pleasuring the man he loved.