Medieval Lesbian Romance

Chapter 2 Pt 1 - The Very Gay Duel

Carmen

King Agnar's eyes were stern and serious as he watched me across the dining table.

My hand clenched around the handle of my knife as I met him gaze for gaze. I knew what he was going to say next, and I resented it with everything in me.

"With the concerning absence of the Badlands search party and my heir, I think it's safe to say you and your parents are going to need to stay in Viv for at least another month," He proclaimed.

Then his serious expression disappeared and he looked down at his large steak with relish. As if he hadn't ruined my afternoon with this decision.

"That's wonderful news!" Heinlich exclaimed to the room, fork clattering to the table as he began to applaud like an idiot.

No one joined him. King Agnar rolled his eyes.

Queen Adira was, unfortunately, absent.

Mother and Father were giggling together as if they hadn't heard. I glared at them resentfully. Father looked pinker around the cheeks lately, so at least this trip was doing him some good.

I turned to King Agnar, enraged, as he finished chewing his mouthful of meat.

"What do you mean, another month?" I asked through gritted teeth.

King Agnar shrugged, cutting another piece and sticking it in his mouth. His lips quirked.

"A month is month, Carmen," He laughed through his lunch, looking at me squarely. "It means you can't go home yet."

I 'can't', can I? What if I became king? Could I go home then?

My table knife was unfortunately not made for stabbing or slashing, but maybe my fork would do some damage against the Berserker king's thick neck. If he survived they would be unusual scars to brag about, so he probably wouldn't declare war.

I looked again at Father's joyful face, sitting at King Agnar's side with his own steak and potatoes and dark swamp greenery and eating with gusto.

I looked down at my own plate, also containing a steak.

Disappointment threatened to cripple me.

Three weeks. I'd been here for three weeks. No royal heir, nor battle actions taken, nor reprieve from Heinlich's lecherous advances. The amount of times I had to calm myself in the face of the idiot prince's actions were in the hundreds. Unwatched touching, constant soliciting, and unrestrained assaulting with his eyes had me fantasizing daily of setting his rooms on fire. Or releasing his prized goose farm – you heard me correctly – out into the wilds. Or just clawing his face off with my bare hands. There was no way to escape him, not when war room tidings were so grim and the royal families were always busy reminiscing in private rooms.

This wreck of a summit's only saving grace was the diamond in the rough, Fenick Falks.

He was the only brilliant mind in the keep that would take time for me. Pulling me aside in the library to look over old manuscripts – and asking for trade secrets that in several instances I nearly shared with him –, or stepping in at the nick of time when mine and Heinlich's paths crossed. Recommending things to read in an effort to pass the time; even lending me his great, thick books on dragon sciences when others didn't appeal to me. He was my savior, the only man in this entire barren country I felt could sympathize with me.

And the one damn time he couldn't be at my side, an absolute bull of a sentence crushed my hopeful plans for the future into the ground.

I'd been so close. Just one more week, and we could've gone home and I would've forgotten this entire disaster ever existed. Beyond the initial introduction, there had been no point to this entire farce. The meetings in the war room were sparse and cut short, often because King Agnar grew anxious with the lack of information and demanded Father go drinking with him. Or riding. Or sparring, though Father was still stoutly refusing his advances.