Knights and Kink Romance Boxed Set (111 page)

Fallon and Marguerite are both seated on their
thrones. Supreme KaKhan Shen Fu is seated to their left side on a
pile of carpets, flanked by Master Melphus, Lady Ramona, and
Paladar the Passionate. To the royal pair’s right stand some
unwashed, greasy-looking people in leather bikinis and animal-skin
tunics that I assume must represent the Tuchux.

And standing in the middle of the room are Syr
Phillip’s father and brother. Master Stephen is in full court garb
and wears a shiny new master-at-arms baldric; Syr Phillip’s dad,
whose resemblance to his two sons is obvious, is dressed in a tunic
emblazoned with the Kingdom of Aethelmarc’s coat of arms. The shiny
crown of Aethelmarc rests heavily on his gray head.

Syr Phillip’s father immediately goes to embrace
him. “Son,” he says gruffly, “it’s real good to see you.”

Syr Phillip is caught off guard at first, but soon
he returns his father’s embrace. “It’s good to see you too,
Dad.”

“That’s King Patrick to you, son,” the older man
says, holding his son out at arm’s length. “We’re at Pennsic. No
addressing one another out of persona, remember? You’re looking
good, Phillip. And this is the lovely Princess Lisa, I
presume?”

“Yes,” I say meekly, giving King Patrick (and quite
possibly, my future father-in-law) a deep curtsey. “Pleased to meet
you, Your Majesty.”

“And I you, Your Royal Highness. I believe you are
already acquainted with my other son, Stephen.”

Master Stephen nods politely. To my relief, he makes
no indication that he and I flirted just a little too much at our
last meeting. Then he nods politely at Syr Phillip, seemingly
waiting for my knight and lord to make the first move towards
reconciliation.

Fallon and Marguerite rise gracefully from their
thrones and approach us. “King Patrick of Aethelmarc, Master
Stephen Blackhawk of the Two Shires, it pleases us that you came to
this important War Summit this day,” Fallon’s rich voice booms. “We
shall commence the War Summit business in a moment, but at present
there are more important matters at hand. Right, Marguerite?”

“Prince Phillip, King Patrick, and Master Stephen,”
Marguerite’s light, regal voice rings out across the encampment.
“The three of you have been at war among yourselves for many years.
This year, King Patrick and Master Stephen both came unto us, the
King and Queen of the Midrealm, seeking a peaceful solution to this
long and bitter family war. With the help and guidance of our
friends in the Great Dark Horde, as well as the Midrealm Thrones’
royal influence, a solution was devised.

“At my suggestion, King Fallon determined to allow
Master Stephen Blackhawk of the Two Shires to change his SCA
residence from Aethelmarc’s border shire, the Shire of Silver Glen,
to the Midrealm’s closest border barony, Brendoken. After speaking
with Master Stephen personally on the matter, I conceived that King
Fallon could then invite Master Stephen to the Midrealm Crown
Tournament.”

Marguerite goes to stand between Syr Phillip and
Master Stephen. “Master Stephen told me the sad story of this
family’s long and bitter war, which dates all the way back to
Pennsic 14. The mundane Dawson family is one that excels in the
Society fighting arts, and Syr Phillip and Master Stephen are no
exception. Master Stephen conceived the idea that he could advance
quite far in the Midrealm Crown, with a high likelihood he would
face his brother in the final round. Knowing full well that Syr
Phillip is the superior fighter of the two, Master Stephen
believed—correctly—that if Syr Phillip came to defeat his brother
for the Crown, it might open a door for all members of the family
to reunite in love. Our friends in the Great Dark Horde also
assisted in this peaceful entreaty very recently, when there was
unfortunate discord between Their Royal Highnesses, and for that,
the Midrealm wishes to thank the Horde by making a gift of an
additional ten thousand of the mysterious elfin chocolate cakes
over and above our original mercenary offer.”

Shen Fu and Master Melphus both stifle a laugh. “The
Horde appreciates the gift,” Shen Fu replies.

Marguerite smiles warmly and goes on. “Now that the
seeds of peace and understanding have been sown, it is my royal
hope that peace and unity may exist among the surviving members of
the Dawson family forevermore. Shall it be so?”

I glance sideways at Syr Phillip. Tears are running
down both his cheeks. “It shall be so,” he says, his voice
breaking.

“Then let peace and unity commence,” is Marguerite’s
reply. She nods towards Master Stephen, and an instant later he and
his older brother are embracing and weeping together. King Patrick
joins them in a group hug.

After the tear-filled family reunion has gone on for
a full five minutes, the Tuchux start clearing their throats
loudly. “Ah yes,” King Fallon says. “We are pleased that all
members of the Dawson family are at peace, but unfortunately, there
is not peace in other parts of the Known World. We must therefore
commence the War Summit.”

“Of course,” King Patrick replies. “As King of
Aethelmarc, a kingdom ally of both the East Kingdom and the Tuchux,
I wish to convey warm wishes from the East Kingdom and the Tuchux.
King Olaf of the East is unable to attend this day; he does not
arrive on-site until tomorrow morning. The Tuchux are here among
us, but as you know the Tuchux dogs and wenches prefer not to speak
aloud in the presence of the SCA barbarians.”

Grunts of agreement emanate from the Tuchux.

“King Olaf regrets that the Middle Kingdom’s olive
branch offering to end the dispute over the Debatable Lands is
rejected; therefore, it appears that War between your two kingdoms
is inevitable.”

King Fallon picks up a wooden arrow and breaks it in
half with great ceremony. “Tell your ally King Olaf that if it’s
war he wants, then it’s war he shall have. The Thirty-Sixth
Fighting of the Pennsic Wars for the Debatable Lands has
begun!”

“POOHBAH!” everyone shouts in unison.

King Fallon smiles. “Oh and by the way, Patrick,
you’ll need to tell King Olaf that the Tuchux may be changing their
minds about fighting for the East this year.”

At this, King Patrick flinches and then bows deeply.
“I shall convey the message. With Your Majesties’ permission, my
son Master Stephen and I must withdraw, as urgent Aethelmarc
kingdom business awaits us momentarily. Again with Your Majesties’
permission, we wish to call upon the Crown Prince and Princess
tomorrow morning as part of the renewed unity and peace among the
mundane Dawson family."

“Permission granted,” King Fallon says warmly, and
Syr Phillip’s father and brother leave with expressions of deep
happiness and calm on both their faces.

Fallon and Marguerite go back to sit upon their
thrones. “And now to settle some unresolved Horde matters,” Fallon
says. “KaKhan Shen Fu, your chocolate-chip cookies are currently
deposited in the royal treasury. You may pick them up whenever you
wish. And as for the matter of the dispute between Lady Ramona and
the Tuchux—“

The Tuchux representatives grumble and growl.

“—I believe our Crown Prince Syr Phillip has brought
a supply of the medicinal herbs the Tuchux nation was seeking from
Lady Ramona after last year’s Pennsic. This should settle matters
between you, I hope. Dog and Wench representatives of the Tuchux,
you may pick up your medicinal herbs from the royal treasury now.
We hope this offering will persuade you to reconsider which kingdom
to support in the War this year. You are dismissed.”

The Tuchux leave, grumbling. The faint aroma of
bacon grease follows them out. I lean in to Syr Phillip to whisper
in his ear. “The Midrealm is giving the Tuchux
marijuana?”

“Actually, it’s twelve cases full of oregano,” Syr
Phillip whispers back. “But don’t worry. The Tuchux will be too
drunk to notice the difference.”

King Fallon motions for us to be silent. “Lady
Ramona, as to the matter of your house burning down. I understand
your insurance company has agreed to pay, and not hold the SCA
liable. Is that so?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” is Lady Ramona’s polite reply.
“The fire was caused by faulty wiring, not anything the SCA folk
attending the post-revel did.”

“Good,” Marguerite says. “Then this War Summit is
now over. I believe the Crown Prince and Princess will wish to dine
and retire for the night after their long journey. We wish you a
all good evening.”

Baron Grizzly escorts all of us out of the royal
pavilion. Lady Ramona, Master Melphus, and Paladar the Passionate
come up to Syr Phillip and me, all looking apprehensive.

“Lisa, I hope we didn’t get off on the wrong foot at
first,” Lady Ramona says, her voice remarkably sweet. “It’s just
that staging the whole bitter-rivalry thing between Melphus and Syr
Phillip is required in public to keep Syr Phillip’s Horde
affiliation a secret. I was only mean to you at Shen Fu’s
insistence, so I could help keep up the facade. I hope you don’t
mind. But now since you’re a secret Horde member too, we can be
friends in private.” She extends her hand, and I shake it. “No hard
feelings?” she asks.

I look at Syr Phillip, and he nods. “What Lady
Ramona says is true, Lisa.”

“No hard feelings,” I say, and smile.

Master Melphus claps Syr Phillip on the back. “We
sure had ‘em fooled good at all the tournaments this year, didn’t
we, Mongol brother?”

“Absolutely,” Syr Phillip says, hugging Master
Melphus. “I look forward to even more of our public shenanigans
when I’m King.”

Ramona, Melphus, and Paladar all bow and leave Syr
Phillip and I alone. Syr Phillip takes my arm and walks me over to
our pavilion, which in the growing twilight is illuminated with
dozens of candles. A dinner of wine, cheese, grapes, and roasted
venison is laid out on our private table, and an unseen minstrel
group begins playing gentle lute and harp music as we sit down to
eat.

“Well, milady, it seems you and I are well on our
way to becoming quite the royal couple,” Syr Phillip beams. He
takes my hand and kisses it. “I’m sorry about how crazy these past
few months have been for you. And I’m afraid that it’s only going
to get worse. With the War opening officially tomorrow, we’re both
going to be very busy making all our royal appearances, not to
mention all the battles I’m required to help lead the Midrealm Army
in fighting, and all the Horde assignments Shen Fu is sure to give
us besides. So I’m sorry to say that tonight is probably the only
night we will have for the next two weeks to spend any private time
together.”

I nibble the skin off a grape seductively. “Well,
milord, then I suggest you make it a night to remember.”

Syr Phillip sets down his knife and fork and goes to
close the tent flaps. “Well, since you’ve forced my hand, milady,
you leave me no choice but to ravish you until dawn. I’m afraid
dinner will have to wait until we’re both satisfied.”

Syr Phillip sweeps me into his arms and kisses me
with more passion than any medieval knight had for any medieval
lady. As he carries me to our mahogany bed, I finally understand
that at the end of the day, courtly love is all that really matters
between a knight and his lady—whether they live and love together
in the twelfth century, or the twenty-first.

About the Author

Jill Elaine Hughes is an award-winning journalist and
playwright as well as a New Adult fiction novelist.

As a reporter, she has contributed to many mainstream
newspapers, magazines and other media outlets. Her plays have been
widely published and produced in New York City, Chicago, Los
Angeles, Seattle, Atlanta and many other U.S. cities, as well as in
the UK and Australia. She has also published many erotic novels
under the pen names Jamaica Layne and Jay. E. Hughes.

She currently lives in the Chicago suburbs with her
husband and two children.

****

Visit Jill on the Web