Lyrion's Gift [Elven Conceptions 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour ManLove) by Jade Astor Page A

have liked nothing so much as to toss off his own clothes and join Lyrion in bed for a while. However, as always, duty summoned him.
    “Will you come?” he prompted.
    “I would be honored to meet the king—your father,” Lyrion said. Talek couldn’t help but laugh at his awestruck expression. “I have never seen a king before. They are unknown in my part of the world.”
    “You need do nothing out of the ordinary. I will present you as my guest and see how my father responds. We must introduce him to the idea of a grandson slowly, especially given the unusual circumstances surrounding his birth. Sadly, there is no way to predict his reaction to any situation.”
    “I see,” Lyrion said. Talek doubted, however, that he really saw at all. How could he?
    Not long afterward, they stood together at the entrance to his father’s private suite, waiting as a servant prepared the old man for visitors. Just before they started inside, Talek gave Lyrion’s hand a brief squeeze.
    “Remember not to take anything he says too seriously. My father often makes little sense. If he confuses you or becomes confused himself, simply nod and agree with him. Soon enough he will move on to another topic.”
    Lyrion nodded, but Talek noticed a flash of trepidation cross his face. He wished there were some way he could make this ordeal easier on him, but perhaps it was better to stride directly into the dragon’s den.
    The servant motioned to them. Talek gave Lyrion’s fingers a final squeeze and tugged him forward. “Come,” he said.
    As soon as they stepped inside the first of his father’s many rooms, Talek saw Lyrion’s mouth open in wonder. Every wall, from floor to ceiling, stood covered in mounted wooden swords. Each had been carved in a different style and painted in a different color, some quite startling. The blades were short, long, curved, straight, thick, and almost impossibly thin—and every one completely harmless.
    “I had the royal artisans fashion these for him,” Talek explained. “My father still fancies himself a warrior, though he has not seen a battlefield for many years. This way, when he insists on his morning exercises, he is less likely to behead one of the servants or render the furniture useless.”
    “How thoughtful of you to go to so much effort on his behalf,” Lyrion said. “These are quite beautiful in their own right. They must be a great comfort to the king.” He reached up to touch one that hung within arm’s reach.
    A clatter at the doorway made both of them turn. An old man in armor advanced on them, dressed in full battle gear that included a gold breastplate and a white-plumed helmet. Long strands of equally white hair streamed from beneath the metal rim. The raised visor revealed two ice-blue eyes that gleamed with outrage.
    “Before you wield that sword, young man, you must be trained and confirmed as a member of my army. Who are you? What is your rank and title?”
    Shocked, Lyrion stepped away from the wall and started to mumble an apology, but Talek moved between him and his father.
    “Lyrion is our guest, Father. He is not one of our soldiers, but has traveled from a distant land. You must treat him gently or he will think us deficient in manners.”
    Grunting, the old man narrowed his eyes and looked suspiciously around the room. “Where has he hidden himself? Not a beggar, is he? Or a diplomat? Pretty much the same thing, so far as I can tell.”
    “He is neither, I assure you. He is my…friend.” Standing aside once more, Talek held one hand toward Lyrion, who bowed, and the other toward his father. “Lyrion of…the Forest, may I present my father, King Polidamis of Mavra.”
    “Your friend, is he?” The old man snorted. “Well, so far I like him better than the other friend you brought me. I’m glad you never brought him again. Talk about unfit to raise a sword. His choice of armor was most peculiar as well. None too sturdy, if I recall correctly.”
    “We have