A suitable bodyguard, p.1
A Suitable Bodyguard, page 1
A Suitable Bodyguard
R. Cooper
Copyright © 2023 R. Cooper
All Rights Reserved
Cover Art by Lyn Forester
ISBN 9798215626559
Content tags: some drinking and intoxication, discussion of arranged marriage and polyamory (as both exist in this universe), threatened violence, off page violence, character death, on page sex, loss of virginity, magic, heats, magical body changes, inhuman physical traits, implied soulmates, accidental exhibitionism, biting kink, acts of service/service kink
Table of Contents
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Epilogue
The End
One
Without standing on his toes, Zelli could see over the top of the battlement down to the valley below. On his toes, he could see as far as the river, which wasn’t terribly distant; it merely seemed so at night, with low clouds and fog obscuring much of the valley.
The fog disappeared for the most part during the summer. To see fog now meant autumn was approaching, though the days were still sunny. Harvest would come soon, an important matter, even to those in the ancient Tialttyrin fortress who had never worked a field in their lives.
Harvest, taking away labor as it did, and the slow approach of winter weather meant that business which should have been done in the summer could be put off no longer. Even The Tialttyrin herself knew this. Yet her health would not allow her to attend to the business personally, and anyone else capable was far from the old fortress, off in the capital or in the rest of the Tialttyrin holdings at the opposite end of the vast valley.
Zelli’s cousin would be preparing for his own harvest, and though he might fulfill some magisterial duties near him, viewing the land, hearing complaints, and issuing judgments was the duty of The Tialttyrin and all knew it.
This would be the second year without Zelli’s grandmother descending even into the sheltered village at the base of the fortress, much less riding out past the outer wall into the valley proper. People were counting on her and would be disappointed. Moreover, they would begin to doubt the ability of the Tialttyrin family to take care of them and to protect them. What then?
It was not Grandmother’s fault that her health had worsened. If there was anyone to blame, it was the various cousins, aunts, uncles, and others who were content to live well in the capital but leave the running of the Tialttyrin estates to Grandmother. They claimed they could not travel because of the strife that had consumed the country, although to Zelli’s way of thinking, the workers transporting great casks of grains and wine from their fertile valley to the rest of the country had to face the risk, so anyone with the name Tialttyrin ought to manage at least one visit. But Zelli’s opinion did not carry much weight outside this fortress.
It did not even carry much weight within it, he reflected sourly, although that wasn’t entirely fair. Grandmother had understood Zelli’s viewpoint; she just did not agree that Zelli should be the one to go in her place. Not as a mark against Zelli, she claimed. Zelli couldn’t argue for himself there, in any case. He was inexperienced and he was young, hardly past twenty. He could not look imposing if he tried, and he had barely left the fortress and the village below it, and that had only been for a journey down the length of the great valley when he’d been a child, before the old queen had been murdered, bless her memory and curse the Canamorra. And, even in a family known for its streak of fae blood, Zelli had unpredictable traits that made him a little too fae for many to be comfortable. More fae than human, thanks to his rather indiscreet parent.
But he was not wrong in this. Even Grandmother had agreed with his argument, although that was all she had done. She had stood firm about everything else despite being barely able to hold herself upright with the help of a cane and Tahlen at her elbow to lend his strength. Tahlen, listening stone-faced to Zelli raising his voice when he should not have, had exchanged a look with Grandmother that only had made Grandmother more resolute against the idea of Zelli going anywhere for the foreseeable future.
Zelli hadn’t seen anything in that glance; he never did. But Grandmother saw everything, and she and Tahlen were, as ever, in agreement. She had others to go to for counsel: her siblings and cousins, though they were as fragile as she was and not especially inclined to practical discussions, the Head of House, Nya, who had trouble these days recalling the tasks she’d been working on, which was why Zelli smiled for her while doing the tasks himself, the cousins across the valley, Zelli himself. But it was a guard whose opinion Grandmother valued. A guard sworn to protect the family and the body of The Tialttyrin, one good and dutiful and capable, but nonetheless a guard, one who had only been with their family a handful of years. And Tahlen did not think Zelli should go either, not even just a few days’ ride into the valley.
It should not have hurt. Zelli didn’t think he had Tahlen’s respect, but he would have thought Tahlen would understand the need for The Tialttyrin’s duties to be carried out. Tahlen always understood such things, guard or not. That was why Grandmother looked to him as she did, why even Zelli had done it, his gaze catching on the upright, strong figure in armor, with small braids tucked into the thick, complex braid down his back. Elaborate weaving that no other guard had ever bothered with that Zelli had seen, and which likely would have done the noblest beat-of-four in the capital proud—not that any noble would have ever have kept their hair tied back as Tahlen did.
Tahlen’s sister wore her hair the same as she worked in the kitchens, where she had the run of the place much like Tahlen had Grandmother’s ear. She did not have Tahlen’s stone face, at least, not with Zelli. For Zelli, she had scowls and glares, even more so of late.
Zelli sighed heavily before moving to a position where he could look over this part of the valley without effort, although the fog still hid much… perhaps even enemies. So far, the fighting over the throne that consumed many of the noble families had not crept into their valley. Tialttyrin was not a grand house or an ambitious one, which had probably saved them—that and their legendary connection to the fae. The fae were mysterious, hidden, and powerful. Countless songs and stories warned people not to cross them and most heeded the warnings. But for well over a decade, the noble houses had been allying with one another—then betraying one another—and scheming and killing for their chance to take the crown for themselves, and though many had held it, none had kept it.
By all reports, the fighting seemed to be getting more widespread and the ambitious families more determined and reckless. It was as though the times of the ancient Earls had returned. When families had battled for centuries until one had proven strong enough to make everyone stop and to keep them from starting it all up again at the slightest provocation—except for the occasional uprising or seizure of the crown by force. Then the Canamorra, one of the oldest families, endlessly proud of the four beats of their name and the esteemed lineage it spoke of, had decided to take the crown again. They had failed, but nonetheless, the country had spiraled back into chaos, and the remaining contenders were growing more willing to harm anyone in their way.
Grandmother, and likely Tahlen with whatever his glance had told her, were right. There was danger out there. Zelli acknowledged that.
But he thought the risk worth taking.
He was aware it was his life Grandmother was concerned about, but considering that Zelli’s life was already being bargained away to help the family, he didn’t see how this was much different. It felt far more useful than hoping someone in a powerful family would be so taken with Zelli that they’d consent to an alliance or perhaps even a real marriage. If anyone was going to be taken with anything, it would be with the wines this valley produced, not with Zelli.
A journey into at least the start of the valley would not rule out an alliance, anyway. The journey could be accomplished in a matter of days with fair weather. And if they did not act, another family might decide the valley should be theirs and the people in it might agree with them. The benefits far outweighed the slight risk to Zelli.
Grandmother knew that, but was too fond of him to let him go.
Zelli made a disgruntled face despite the warmth that filled him at the thought.
Tahlen, however…. Tahlen’s reasons Zelli did not know. But they would be sensible and practical and Zelli would like to know them.
At that, Zelli left the battlement, too restless to be still although it was long past even the latest of late dinners and nearly everyone else in the fortress had probably retired hours ago. He went down staircase after staircase, then up another, then down again and along several corridors, for the fortress of stone had been cut into the foothills and it took some time to go from one end to the other.
He passed a few guards who had known him since childhood and regarded him now with confusion and perhaps even some worry. Zelli wondered idly, as he often did, what they thought of a younger guard, not even from the valley, coming here and rising in position so quickly. But from what he had seen, they didn’t mind too much. Tahle n never shirked his duties, even the nights spent down in the guard towers by the gate to the village, which had been a dull job not so long ago.
The guards did not think it dull now. If any trouble came, it would be the guards on duty there who would face it first.
Anyway, Zelli had even seen them laugh with Tahlen, and Tahlen, remarkably, smile back at them. They didn’t seem to mind him one bit. It was likely only respect for Ric, the aged Captain of the Guard, that had kept Tahlen from taking on that role. He had a fine sense of tact, their Tahlen, and showed the same respect to old Ric that he showed to Nya.
Zelli reached the armory and the sparring ring, silent and empty at this time of night, and nodded to two guards headed out of their living quarters. Carr and Nel did not stop him but definitely had questions they wished to ask.
Zelli stepped lightly down a couple of stairs to reach the main hallway that held the rooms each guard claimed for their own except for the few who lived in the village. Then he frowned and went back up the stairs with a question for Carr and Nel, since Zelli did not actually know which room was Tahlen’s.
Having received the information he needed and gotten yet more curious stares, Zelli ventured back into the guard’s living quarters.
It was disrespectful of him to be there. But he would be quick and he would apologize to Tahlen for the visit. Tahlen would probably not react to the apology one way or the other, but Zelli would apologize all the same. Then he’d be on his way.
He got lost only once, because a candle in one of the wall niches had gone out and the way was dark, and the niches on this level of the hold were too high for Zelli to reach. The family apartments, built for Tialttyrins who were, as a rule, quite small due to their fae ancestry, had much lower niches.
Of course, reaching Tahlen’s door and actually knocking on Tahlen’s door required different levels of courage, so at the threshold, Zelli faltered.
Tahlen might be asleep, which was a strange thing to realize. Tahlen was a person; obviously he would need to rest like anyone else. Yet Zelli held back from knocking while he imagined Tahlen sleep-soft and relaxed, maybe even grumpy when woken. He might braid his hair differently for sleep. Some did. Not Zelli, but that was because Zelli’s hair slipped out of all braids no matter how tight.
Tahlen would surely take off some of his armor at night. It couldn’t be comfortable to sleep in.
Of course, thinking about Tahlen without armor was not the sort of thing to do in a moment like this, since it generally led to situations that could not be entirely blamed on Zelli’s fae blood and would be extremely unwelcome to Tahlen.
Although Tahlen perhaps did not think so, Zelli reflected, his voice uncertain even in his own mind.
He knocked before he could let thoughts of Tahlen without armor, or clothes, take hold of him again, then twitched when Tahlen called for him to enter.
“Is something wrong?” Tahlen asked before Zelli had pushed open the door, the question trailing at the end as though not even steady, smart Tahlen could fathom the sight of Zelli in his doorway.
This was fair, since Zelli spent several stunned moments blinking at a Tahlen with his hair loose, sitting in a wide, comfortable chair before a fire, a length of cloth across his lap and a sewing needle in one hand.
Before bed, Tahlen apparently unbound his hair and let it fall around him in a shining, smooth curtain of rich brown, marked with the pattern of his braids even now. He wore a white undershirt and the warm, brightly dyed sleep pants worn by villagers who lived in houses without the grand fireplaces and heating systems of buildings like this one. The guards’ rooms had only the fireplaces, which was perhaps why Tahlen had the pants on. Woolen socks hid his feet from view. The shirt, open at the top, revealed hair at his chest.
Zelli had not known Tahlen had such hair and foresaw himself obsessing over the visible patch of brown hair for many nights to come.
“Zelli?” Tahlen was already rising to his feet, although Zelli belatedly thought that he ought to assure Tahlen he didn’t need to stand; Zelli was unexpectedly visiting him in his private quarters, after all. No ceremony should be required.
Tahlen put his sewing on the bed. As the room was not large, he did not have to step away to do so. Zelli watched the action, stared harder to see the striped tabby cat curled up on Tahlen’s bed, then transferred his attention back to Tahlen, who reached for his hair as if he might braid it right then but stopped himself.
The style among the old families in the capital was for braided hair or unbound hair with braids in it and sometimes jewelry as well. A style designed to be annoying for people like Zelli, with hair that was not straight or inclined to fall down his back, and which only reached his shoulder blades. It wasn’t as if seeing Tahlen’s hair was forbidden or an unearned intimacy. But perhaps it felt like one to Tahlen.
Zelli swallowed, then finally moved his gaze to the fire. Some movement in the hall made him inch forward, nearly silent in his pillowy indoor boots. Then, glancing to Tahlen again, he closed the door behind him so this wouldn’t be overheard and cause Tahlen any problems.
“I’m sorry for bothering you.” Zelli could not seem to keep his voice level without effort. That occurred frequently around Tahlen and was even more difficult for him now. Even finding Tahlen in his armor would have been too much, Zelli realized now, with the two of them alone and the hour late. He opened his mouth to try again to sound as reasonable and calm as Tahlen usually did. “I didn’t know you had a cat.”
He winced as he said it.
“I don’t,” Tahlen answered, in the same tone in which he said everything, so controlled that it was nearly emotionless. Apparently, he had recovered from the surprise of Zelli’s visit.
Zelli jerked his head up and gestured to the tabby, which, from what he knew of cats, was probably not asleep and merely pretending to be.
“It’s not my cat,” Tahlen said, but went briefly silent when their eyes met. “It sleeps where it’s warm,” Tahlen explained further, as though he read things in Zelli’s expression even when Zelli said nothing. “It belonged to Reas.”
He didn’t need to add more. Reas had been another sworn guard, with the family for at least two generations, but who had nonetheless chosen to leave, as some had of late. Sworn guards didn’t need to give reasons to leave, only request to be freed from their oath of service, and since no one would keep someone who wished to be free, Grandmother had released anyone who asked. But all in the fortress and the village below could guess the reasons for so many departures. Some guards felt the Tialttyrin family were too weak and not worth the rising risk, or they sought better pay and to be part of the action with a bolder, more aggressive house. In the case of Reas, Zelli suspected the first. With constant warring, any great families seen as vulnerable would eventually find themselves in trouble. The Tialttyrin had never sought guards who enjoyed fighting, had never needed to, and those like Reas certainly had not signed up to give their lives over a war for a crown the Tialttyrin did not even want.
Several times, Zelli had started to ask why a guard as highly regarded as Tahlen had not also left them, but he didn’t even know why Tahlen and his sister had come here four years ago. It was not his place to ask and Tahlen was already dissatisfied with Zelli. But thinking of why that was made Zelli’s insides feel decidedly unsteady.
Zelli glanced to the cat again, frowning. “He left his cat behind? I am at least glad you’re here to care for it. Loyalty should be rewarded, not thrown away. Maybe we are better off without Reas if he behaved so abominably.”
“I don’t…” Tahlen stopped his protest short when Zelli looked up. Tahlen gave a slight shake of his head. “It only sleeps here.”
Zelli smiled even though the knowledge that a tabby slept on Tahlen’s bed was as disconcerting as the unfinished sewing.
Tahlen’s eyes were a deeper brown than his hair. He was several years older than Zelli but not even near thirty, when, in different times, he might have expected to be promoted or to take on more responsibilities. His face was that of a young man of twenty-five or twenty-six, but his eyes were so much older. And he was careful with his smiles. The cat might receive some of them. Zelli never had.
