The Hawk Lord by Amy Sumida

Chapter Twenty-Eight

The ballroom went silent when the King was announced, then he stepped into the room. Dalsharan held me back when I moved to follow him. He watched until the King was seated on his throne, up on a dais at the far end of the room, and then removed his hand from my chest. We moved up into the doorway. A uniformed man standing there looked at us, did a double-take, and then bowed deeply.

“Hawk Lord,” he murmured, “it's an honor to have you back with us.”

“Thank you.” Dal nodded and then waved a hand at me. “My consort, Ravyn Arandel.”

“Yes, my lord.” The man bowed again, turned to face the room, and then announced in a clear, strong voice, “Dalsharan Arandel, the Hawk Lord, and his consort, Ravyn Arandel, the Valorian!”

The respectful silence of the King's arrival was suddenly shot through with eager whispers, and the Hawk Court turned their sharp focus on Dalsharan and me as we strode into the room together. Dal didn't acknowledge anyone but instead took us straight to the dais where the thrones were perched. I tried not to gawk at the extravagant chandeliers, walls of mirrors, and—the hardest to ignore—the Pixies. The little, winged people flew about the room on their butterfly wings, snagging treats from the buffet table to eat as they sat casually on the branches of potted trees and dancing over the heads of the Sidhe. But everyone was staring at me, so I couldn't stare at them. Instead, I focused on the King.

King Avamael sat between his daughter and a woman who I assumed was the Queen. Her brilliant auburn hair was topped with a crown that matched his. To either side of the women were more thrones. On their left sat two men and a woman, and to the right were a man and a woman who were holding hands and giving each other goo-goo eyes. They all wore crowns that matched King Avamael's except the stones set within the points of their feathers were different colors.

When we reached the edge of the dais, Dalsharan bowed deeply, and I hurried to do the same.

“Dalsharan, it is good to have you home at last,” the King declared as if he hadn't just seen us moments before. “And you have brought us a gift.”

“May I present to you, Ravyn Arandel, Sire? Our Valorian.” He waved at me and whispered, “Kneel.”

I knelt and bowed my head, waiting for the King to acknowledge me before I lifted it.

“Valorian, welcome to Varalorre and the Hawk Kingdom,” the King said grandly. “Welcome home, Ravyn.”

I lifted my head and smiled, “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“You may rise, Valorian.”

I stood and bowed again.

“You have done us proud, Hawk Lord,” the King said. “Now, you will see to the Valorian's training personally, correct?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Good.” King Avamael grinned. “I have awarded you a holding in Larinesse, and for you, my Valorian, a residence in Kestria. My steward will deliver the details tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Dal and I said together.

“It is well deserved.”

“It's good to have you home, Dal,” the Queen said. Despite a stark difference in their coloring—Princess Farina being tan and blonde while the Queen was pale with hair like fire—there was a clear resemblance between mother and daughter. “We are so delighted that you have found a consort, and such a handsome one.” She smiled at me.

I beamed at her.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Dalsharan said.

“Enjoy your celebration, Valorian,” the Queen said to me.

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

We bowed again and slipped back into the throng. Dal placed a hand on my lower back and led me to the side of the room, nodding to people who greeted him as we went. Several tried to stop us, but Dal kept murmuring something about feeding the Valorian, as if I were some kind of exotic pet.

“Did the King just give me a palace?” I whispered.

“Yes.”

“A fucking palace?”

“Yes. Likely next to mine. But you will not be living in it.”

“I have a palace.” I grinned to myself. “I never imagined I'd ever own a shack, much less a palace.”

Dal shifted a tender look my way. “You're too handsome for a shack.”

I couldn't stop the goofy grin that spread across my face.

Dalsharan led me to a banquet table overflowing with food, and my grin spread wider. Not a single strip of dried meat in sight.

“Now, this is more like it,” I whispered and reached for something.

Dal slapped my hand. “Get a plate, you heathen,” he said teasingly.

“Soldier,” I said and waved at myself.

“Valorian,” he corrected meaningfully.

“Yeah, fine,” I huffed and grabbed one of the little plates stacked to the side. “I won't be able to fit much on it anyway. What's the point?”

“The point is that you come back. It gives you something to do,” Dalsharan said and chuckled. He picked up a plate and placed little round things topped with puffy things on it, then long things with frilly greens.

I picked a puff up and sniffed it. Smelled like meat. I shrugged and piled them on my plate, creating a precarious pyramid of puffs. Dalsharan gave up on me with a shake of his head and another laugh. Then he turned around, snagged a drink from the tray of a passing footman—they were just walking around holding trays with drinks on them!—and sidled to an open chair near the wall. He sat down, leaned back, propped an ankle across his other knee, set his plate on his lap, and nibbled at his tiny food.

I grimaced, grabbed a drink for myself with a muttered, “Thanks, man,” and went to stand beside Dal. “You couldn't have found two chairs?” I grumbled and took a sip.

The Hawk Lord waved at a passing footman. “Bring a chair for the Valorian.”

“Yes, Hawk Lord,” the man scurried off.

“Pompous asshole,” I muttered as I bent my head, bit a little round thing, then leaned back to get it in my mouth.

“Don't do that,” he hissed at me.

“Well, don't act like a pompous asshole and I won't have to call you one.”

“I mean, don't eat like that.”

The footman set a chair down beside Dal's and bowed to us.

“Thank you,” I said as he wandered off, then sat down.

“And stop thanking everyone,” he whispered. “They're just doing their jobs.”

“I don't care, he brought me a chair and the polite thing to do is say thank you,” I shot back. Then I mirrored his pose and started to eat properly. Like a Valorian. I picked up a puff, held my pinky out, and took the tiniest bite of it before chewing thoroughly and going back for another.

A bunch of Pixies in a nearby plant laughed their little butts off. I winked at them, and they laughed harder.

“You are hopeless,” the Hawk Lord lamented.

“You're the one who gave me a piece of your soul,” I said brightly. “I didn't ask you to do that.”

“Indeed.” The Hawk Lord rolled his eyes. “Whatever possessed me?”

I snorted.

Then they descended. Not the Pixies, the Sidhe. Evidently, shoving your mouth full of food only keeps courtiers at bay for a few minutes, then it's open season. They flocked to the Hawk Lord and his prize like soldiers to bad wine, pawing at the both of us—Dal called it fawning, but whatever—and gushing about his return and my rebirth. They droned on about their holdings, their latest hunts, and the parties they'd been to recently. But whenever Dal mentioned the war or—Goddess forbid—the Farungal, they clammed up and looked uncomfortable. But at least it got them to leave.

When the latest bunch took off with strained excuses, I got up, stretched, and grimaced at him. “These people are obnoxious. I don't like them.”

Dalsharan laughed hard enough that half the room stared at us. He got up and kissed my forehead. “You have no idea how obnoxious they can be.” Then he went tense, looking as if he'd just spotted a Farungal.

I followed his gaze to a pair of men a few feet away.

The Royals had come down off their thrones and were mingling. Dal was staring at one in particular—one of the kings who had sat to the left of the Princess. He was dark in both appearance and demeanor. Sin-black hair flowed like a veil down his back and his eyes were such a rich brown that they nearly matched his hair. Those eyes had a dangerous look to them and his lips, a vicious twist. This dark king stood beside one of the most beautiful men I've ever seen.

Not handsome, but beautiful. The King's companion had delicate features, almost feminine, with soft, full lips, a pointed chin, and arched eyebrows. Chocolate brown curls brushed his shoulders, highlighted with golden streaks, and his tanned skin had been dusted with gold powder to compliment his hair. His eyes, almond-shaped and thickly lashed, were a shade of green that matched the jewels in the dark King's crown. And those brilliant green eyes were focused on the Hawk Lord.

“That's him, huh?” I asked. “Mr. Green Eyes?”

Dalsharan refocused on me and smiled ruefully. “That's him.”

“He's pretty,” I said grudgingly.

Dal grunted. “I prefer handsome men to pretty. If I wanted pretty, I'd be with a woman.”

I grinned. “You're just saying that to get me into bed.”

Dal snorted.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the men start to move toward us and a naughty idea blossomed. I leaned forward against Dal's chest and gave him a lopsided grin. He cocked a brow at me, angling toward me, turning his back on the approaching men without realizing it.

I waited until they were close enough to overhear then said, “It's been hours since you fucked me. When can we leave?”

Dal chuckled low and sensuously. “Not for a while yet.”

“Come on, we've been here long enough, take me home and give me that huge cock.”

“Behave,” he growled.

“Or what? You'll spank me again?”

Dal went still and scowled in confusion.

I widened my eyes at him, hoping he'd catch on. “Will you beat me until I cry?” I purred. “Put your big hand around my throat and hold me down? Or will it be the whip again?”

That lie did it. He finally caught on. His eyes flashed and flicked to the side. I nodded, once, sharply—a soldier on a mission.

The Hawk Lord's lips twitched as he snatched my throat, squeezed, and leaned in to drawl, “Keep pecking at me, bad bird, and I will strip you bare, chain you to my wall, and whip that beautiful ass until it bleeds.”

“Promise?”

“I hope we're not interrupting anything,” a deep voice drawled in a tone that said he knew exactly what he was interrupting and was a little disappointed that he couldn't participate.

Dalsharan straightened as if surprised at being caught in an intimate conversation. He turned and inclined his head to the crowned man. “King Zanerelle, I'm sorry you had to hear that. My consort can be...”

“A bad bird?” The King asked gleefully.

The man beside him, Jaxon, had a sour expression on his face. His eyes twitched as he looked me over, then they softened on Dal almost beseechingly.

“Yes, indeed.” Dal grinned back at the King. “You understand, I'm sure, that consorts must be kept in line.”

“I've never taken one.” King Zanerelle shrugged. “I don't see the point. My interest wanes too quickly.”

Jaxon flushed. He cleared his throat and spoke softly, “Hello, Dal.”

Dal gave him a cursory glance. “Jaxon.”

Before Jaxon could say more, the King backhanded him. I flinched as Jaxon's head swung with the blow. People nearby gasped and moved away.

“How dare you! You will address the Hawk Lord with respect!” King Zanerelle growled. “You don't deserve such familiarity with him.”

Jaxon licked his bloody lip and stared at the King as if he were the most glorious being in the world. “Yes, Sire,” he whispered. Then he bowed to Dalsharan. “Forgive me, Hawk Lord. I meant no disrespect.”

“It's forgotten,” Dal said flippantly, but I caught a flash in his eyes—a flicker of arousal.

My stomach clenched. The violence had turned him on. Fuck. But I had meant every word of my speech to the Hawk King. I believed in Dalsharan. He was struggling with his beast, and I had promised him that I would help him. I loved him, and his love was worth fighting his darkness. So, I wouldn't let this unnerve me. I'd face it like I faced every battle—with a grin.

“If you'd like to punish Jaxon yourself, I'd be happy to trade for the evening,” the King offered with a covetous look my way.

My battle grin faltered.

Dalsharan stiffened. “Thank you, but no. I've already played with your toy. I found him... disappointing.”

Jaxon paled and actually took a step back.

The Eagle King chuckled. “Yes, I've heard. I thought I'd offer anyway since it seems that your attitude toward certain things has shifted.”

“I don't pick up the trash I've discarded,” Dalsharan said scathingly. “No offense to Your Majesty, of course.”

“None taken.” King Zanerelle grinned broadly. “I love trashy men. The trashier the better.” He looked me over. “Do be sure to let me know if you change your mind.”

Dalsharan nodded crisply.

Hold on, was he calling me trashy too? I grimaced at the Eagle King.

“Bid Hawk Lord and the Valorian a good night, Jaxon,” the King commanded.

“Goodnight, Hawk Lord,” Jaxon's voice trembled. He bowed to Dalsharan and then me. “Goodnight, Valorian.”

I nodded at him.

“Goodnight, Jaxon,” Dal's voice held a note of something that made my stomach clench.

I watched the Hawk Lord's face as the other men walked away, but he was watching Jaxon. My grin vanished completely.