A Red-Rose Chain

“I hate you all,” I groaned, and flopped backward on the bed.

Laughing, May left the room, with Walther close behind her. Quentin remained, standing awkwardly near the door to his private chamber. I raised my head enough to peer at him.

“You okay, kiddo?”

“Can I take Spike with me?” he asked. “I don’t want to sleep in here, but I’m not comfortable being alone in a Kingdom I don’t know.”

I pushed myself up onto my elbows. “Of course. Spike, go with Quentin.” The rose goblin, which had settled itself atop one of my suitcases, stood, rattled its thorns, and trotted over to rub against my squire’s ankles. Quentin bore the thorny intrusion with a minimum of wincing. “We’re right here if you need us.”

“Cool,” said Quentin. “Sleep well.”

“You, too.”

He stooped to pick Spike up from the floor before retreating into his room, shutting the door behind him. I looked at it for a moment, feeling obscurely guilty. Quentin had learned a lot since I’d first met him. He was going to be a good King someday, when his father chose to give him the throne, and while I wasn’t egotistical enough to think it was because of me, I did believe our time together had taught him to be better than he would have been otherwise. But it had also taught him to be cautious, and that not everything was going to go his way. He would have learned those lessons eventually. They were unavoidable. I still felt bad about the fact that he had needed to learn them from me.

Tybalt removed his boots and unbuttoned his shirt and vest, leaving them discarded on the floor before crawling into the center of the bed. He made the motion look remarkably natural, like bipeds had always been intended to move about on all fours. He stretched, getting comfortable, and then looked at me, raising his eyebrows.

“Well?” he asked. “Time is short, and sleep is precious. I should like to think you’d be allowing the first to expedite the second.”

“Sorry.” I kicked my own shoes off, and squirmed out of my leather jacket, draping it over the bedside table. Only then did I roll over, still effectively clothed, to snuggle against him. The smell of pennyroyal and musk was comforting, and I pressed my face to his chest, breathing it in.

Tybalt chuckled, although he sounded less amused than relieved. “Times are hard, and this is a battle unlike any you have fought before. Take comfort in knowing that you do not fight alone, and allow yourself to rest.”

“I’m trying.” I tilted my head back, looking at him. “I’m not equipped for this. I’m going to screw it up.”

“My dear, your entire life has been a succession of things you were not equipped for, and while you may have, as you so charmingly say, ‘screwed some of them up,’ you have, in the main, come through spectacularly well. You are surrounded by allies, and each of us is, in our own way, uniquely suited to the challenges ahead—as are you, or you wouldn’t be here. Trust Arden to know her people. Trust us to know your needs. Trust yourself to protect your Kingdom.” He kissed my forehead. “And sleep, I beg of you. You were bad enough when you were still drowning yourself in coffee. Now, when you become overtired, you are positively unlivable.”

“I love you, too,” I said, and leaned up to kiss him.

It wasn’t the most romantic kiss. I was fully clothed, he was still wearing trousers, and we were in what was effectively the fanciest guest room bed I had ever seen, with my squire just one thin door away. But his lips were warm and tasted like pennyroyal, and I could feel the purr vibrating through his chest. Sometimes romance is of less importance than the feeling of being absolutely safe: of knowing that nothing and no one can hurt you, because the person who loves you most in all the world will destroy them if they try.