Elf Defence (Adventures in Aguillon #2) - Lisa Henry Page 0,44

half of it over to Calarian.

Calarian melted a little at the gesture. Benji was prickly as hell and often impossible to read, but the half a gingerbread horse was enough to tell Calarian they were on the same page when it came to what they had with each other, and with Lars. Maybe they hadn’t figured out where that page belonged in the book, or even what language the book was written in, but at least they were there together.

He very deliberately didn’t think about what might happen when it was time to go home to Callier. He’d sent a message to Quinn and Loth that morning, letting them know that the mountain troll problem was sorted out and that Tournel also had a new duke, and that he and Benji were sticking around for a little while to make sure the new duke had everything running smoothly. He wasn’t sure how the kings of Aguillon would interpret that little titbit, and figured they’d either let him do whatever he wanted, or they’d decide that Benji was finally starting his revolution and a regiment of royal soldiers would appear without warning one day.

Calarian didn’t spare too much time worrying about what Quinn and Loth thought. He was more worried about the expectation from everyone both here and in Callier that at some point the royal envoys would actually have to leave. The quest was done, and it wouldn’t take Lars very long to learn how to run a duchy. It was blindingly obvious to Calarian that Gretchen was right, and Gunther was skimming from the treasury, but as soon as they sorted that out, what was keeping him and Benji in Tournel? And would Lars even care if they left?

Calarian didn’t know how committed relationships worked, and neither did Benji. Elves didn’t do those. And Lars, as far as he knew, had only ever been in a committed—and fortunately platonic—relationship with his cows. What was it Benji had said the day they’d all tumbled into bed? That he was having very complicated feelings.

Calarian could relate.

He ate his gingerbread, and gazed down the narrow cobbled street. Further down the gentle incline, a pair of children played dolls on a doorstep, and an old man whittled a piece of wood while he watched them. Colourful flowers bloomed in window boxes and beside doorsteps. A woman carried a basket of bread into a neighbour’s house. A cat lazed in the sun. A mouse lounged next to it, and okay, that was taking idyllic to ridiculous fucking levels.

He and Benji wandered on. Calarian had a belly full of gingerbread and the warmth of the sunlight on the back of his shoulders. He felt pleasantly drowsy.

“We should definitely visit Hannah and check on that new gingerbread recipe,” Benji said. The sunlight brought out reddish highlights in his black hair that Calarian hadn’t bothered to notice before. He looked stupidly beautiful in the sun. “And buy some to take back to the castle for Lars.”

Tournel must have been working its slow magic on Benji too, because that was quite possibly the first plan Benji had ever come up with that Calarian didn’t need to object to immediately on either practical or ethical grounds.

He reached out and brushed their hands together again, and smiled at Benji. “That sounds like an excellent idea.”

Benji rolled his eyes at the soft touch, and linked his fingers with Calarian’s.

They held hands all the way to the bakery.

They found Lars walking with Maisy in the green pastures on the edge of town, and he was exceedingly grateful for the new gingerbread—so grateful that after covering Maisy’s ears, he offered to take them back to his rooms and show his appreciation with blowjobs for everyone.

“We have time,” he said. “I’ve called a meeting with Gunther to go over the budget report, but it’s not until later.”

“What, he still hasn’t presented that?” Calarian frowned. “What’s taking so long?”

“That’s what I want to know,” Lars said grimly. “There have been more reports of unpaid stipends, and I’m determined to get to the bottom of it.”

“Bottom,” sniggered Benji. Calarian rolled his eyes, but it was fond.

“Shut up and let’s get back to our rooms so we can all be sexed up and relaxed before we have to deal with Gunther and his curdled cottage cheese face,” he said.

“Let’s,” Lars said, brightening visibly, and with one last affectionate pat to Maisy’s rump, they meandered across the fields and back to the castle. The tower stood out in