Far From Home One: The Warlord's Chosen-- A M/M Fantasy Romance

10- Would They Die for You?

GEIR—

My mate noticed his people surrounding us at the same moment I did. My concern at the potential blood loss, at having to protect my new mate from the chaos a battle would bring, was nothing to his terror.

"They show you great loyalty," I whispered directly into his ear, fighting back a chuckle when he shivered and gooseflesh rose up both arms and tickled the back of his neck. How I loved how responsive his body was to me. "Would they die for you? You for them?"

If the performance in this same courtyard the day before was any indication, they rose up for him. To protect and defend their beloved prince. They waited only for a sign from him. A whimper, a tear, a cry of pain. Anything they could use as an excuse to step in and take him back.

I could almost hear his clever mind working out my words— he couldn't understand them, but he knew what they meant anyways. And the moment he came to accept what he must do, I couldn't keep the smug smile from my face.

He leaned back, falling comfortably pliant in my arms. It was a stark difference to the rigid, stoic, reluctant body language of just a moment before. And then his hands were grabbing mine, holding them around his waist affectionately.

I found I liked being sought out by my mate. Each of our touches until now had been initiated by me. But this was him reaching for me. My heart and body didn't care that it wasn't due to any desire for actual touch, and was his way of putting on a show.

I held back a chuckle when he waved and called out to a few people by name, a few words exchanged cheerily, and then we were riding through the throngs that lined the path out of the capital of El'kahr. With each person we passed, there was a cherry wave, a smile, a name or greeting, and the crowd's demeanor changed. No more were they standing as if preparing for battle.

They waved and called out, and I could even see a few tears shed in farewell.

My Warprize held genuine, pure magic in his soul. He was the most worthy of mates.

"Good boy," I whispered when we reached the outer gates. His only answer was a grunt of acknowledgement.

I kicked my stallion into a steady trot, and by noon we had caught up to the main force of my troops.

Their cheers when they saw me and my chosen Warprize were deafening. I laughed heartily when my Warprize jerked in surprise at the hundreds, nearly thousands, of men cheering for our mating, but I only smiled and waved and held him closer.

He was our symbol of hard-earned peace. He would be revered and worshipped as not only my mate, but the Warprize that had been the sign of the end of a war we had never wanted, never asked for.

Once a Warprize was acquired, it was a sure sign we would see home— lovers, friends, family, children— soon.

And this drove their cheering even louder.