Champion of Fire & Ice - Megan Derr Page 0,4

to admit it was nice to be back in the castle in only a few minutes rather than the half hour it had taken him to reach the field. Dismounting in the yard, he bowed slightly. "I will arrange breakfast and see you shortly."

Cimar smiled and nodded before riding off to the stables. Davrin turned on his heel and climbed the stairs into the keep.

He flagged down a servant and secured breakfast, then headed off to his rooms. There, he stripped off his gloves and set them aside, then strode over to the fire and warmed himself.

Dozens of thoughts, fears, and doubts rattled around in his head, each one vying for his attention. But it was ultimately the most selfish and frivolous of them that he finally latched onto: was it true that Cimar's wife had left him?

Davrin shouldn't be happy about that, but he'd never thought Mistress Farra a good fit for Cimar. She was his antithesis, and rare was the instance where combining to such strong opposites made either anything but miserable.

Going to his dressing table, Davrin picked up a comb and set to work on his hair. He worked hard to follow the Goddess's Virtues, but he admitted he faltered slightly when it came to his hair, of which he was proud—even vain. Traditionally, all nobles kept their hair long, as both sign of their station and reminder of their place. Sadly, most nobles remembered the former but forgot the latter. They were too busy being wealthy and powerful to remember to be humble guardians of those entrusted to their care.

When he'd woven it into six braids, he wove those together into a knot at the base of his skull, securing it with a hairpin that was decorated with a white rose at the top—the flower of mourning.

He looked at his reflection and sighed, hands falling to his sides. If only Ballior were still alive, and Cimar was visiting his chambers for an entirely different reason. No matter how impossible it was, and even with all the years that had passed, Davrin still pined for the impossible. But maybe… maybe when all of this was over… he could see what might be possible.

Romantic and sexual relationships between lords and knights were not forbidden, but they were generally frowned upon, given their respective stations and duties. The laws that governed the lords and ladies of the kingdom were:

To Respect the Goddess and Keep Her Temple

To Serve the Crown Faithfully and Diligently

To Care for the People and Maintain the Kingdom

To Speak for the Welfare of All

To Succor the Weak and Abandoned

To Be Honest, Diligent, and Kind

To Do No Harm

To Never by Dishonorable Means Cause Harm to be Done

To Refuse No Challenges Brought by an Equal

To Live Nobly and Wisely

Knights, meant to serve, had their own list of strictures to live by:

To Respect the Goddess and Fight in Her Name

To Defend the Crown at All Costs

To Protect the People and Guard the Kingdom

To Fight for the Welfare of All

To Rescue the Weak and Abandoned

To Be Courageous, Steadfast, and Merciful

To Bring Harm Only as a Last Recourse

To Never by Dishonorable Means Harm or Cause Harm to be Done

To Answer as Champion when Called Upon

To Live Honorably and Humbly

They were meant always to work in tandem, nobles and knights, but never intimately. A noble too close to a knight relied over much on the sword to solve his problems; a knight too close to a noble found his edge dulled; both found themselves less earnest in their duties.

And, naturally, the crown preferred to keep its different powers clearly divided and more easily controlled. So marriage was forbidden, intimate relationships strongly discouraged, and even friendships should not run too deep.

Of course, all of that was overlooked by His Majesty when it came to Lord Tekker and Sir Grayne, who were like fire and a parched forest. Those two were every reason nobles and knights were expected to maintain a certain distance, but why should King Rorlen care?

Leaving the bedroom, he went to the front room, where breakfast had been arranged on the table. He'd just poured ale for himself and Cimar when a knock came at his door.

He opened it and bowed slightly as he stepped back to let Cimar into the room.

Cimar had traded his armor for his more familiar hose and long tunic, though he'd retained his heavy cloak against the cold, drafty castle. It was blue, trimmed and lined in silvery-white fur that almost perfectly matched his hair, making him