Page 24 of The Prince and His Bodyguards
“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, my liege,” I say in a low voice. “Please call me Ali. I’m sorry Ragnar didn’t have a chance to introduce us earlier, but your brother’s fighting in the melee today, and had to rush off to make preparations.”
Prince Haakon’s blue eyes gleam as they traverse my curves, taking in their generous bounty. The gleam intensifies as he meets my eyes again.
“I see. It’s nice to meet you as well, Ali. I take it you’ve met Mizhir and Rizza?” he drawls lazily. “I understand that they accompanied Ragnar to the States on his recent trip.”
Obviously, I can read the sub-text and blush prettily, my bosom heaving.
“Yes, we’ve met,” I murmur while looking down. “Mizhir and Rizza are wonderful men.”
Haakon grins then, flashing white teeth.
“Great,” he replies with a devilish smile. “I’m glad Ragnar and his bodyguards have found what they’re looking for. I always thought that the Lysenian pear “business trip” was bullshit. My brother and his buddies were there for another purpose altogether, and it seems it’s been a success.”
I have no idea what to say to that remark, but fortunately, the MC begins to speak then, his voice loud and sonorous.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he orates. “Welcome to the next event at our annual Lysenian Heritage Tournament! May I announce the participants in this year’s melee?”
Trumpets blare as the knights file out from an underground tunnel, clad in honest-to-god armor. I smile and clap as Ragnar, Mizhir, and Rizza are introduced, my heart turning over as the handsome men take their places before lifting a hand in greeting at me. To be sure, quite a few people turn to look to see who they’re waving to, and I blush again, unsure how to behave.
But then, the melee begins and goodness, it’s violent. Knights charge one another, giving no quarter, as they seek to do some serious damage. Armor clangs as spears splinter, and one man even waves a morningstar over his head, growling with aggression as he takes down his opponent.
“Are people going to live through this?” I ask Matilda, my cheeks pale.
She nods, patting my hand with reassurance.
“Don’t worry, everyone survives, although some of the participants come out injured. But your men are doing great,” she says, nodding to the dirt arena before us. “Ragnar, Mizhir, and Rizza are fighting as a team, as always, and they’re trouncing the competition.”
It’s true. I watch as my three lovers thrust and parry, uncommonly light on their feet even in the heavy armor. Their weapons glint in the afternoon sun, and more than once, I feel nauseated watching as swords flash with menace.
But my men are experienced, and they’ve coordinated their actions. They repel every attack, and then go on the offensive like berserkers, taking down the rest of the crew. Within moments, the field is filled with groaning knights sprawled on the floor, as Ragnar, Mizhir and Rizza stalk about, staking their dominance.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer booms. “It seems that Prince Ragnar and his men have defeated the field! Your champions, Prince Ragnar of the royal family, Mizhir of House Lysander, and Rizza of House Pembroke!”
The crowd bursts into cheers, me along with them. My cheeks flush as I clap with pleasure, curls bouncing and eyes alight with excitement. But then, the three men approach our seating area, and take off their helmets. Goodness, Rizza, Mizhir, and Ragnar are sweaty and bloody, to be sure. I notice a bruise on Ragnar’s neck, and Mizhir looks to be limping slightly too. I’ll definitely have to call a doctor to tend to their wounds.
But as the announcer congratulates them on their win, the three men find my eyes across the crowded way, and nod.
“As champions, who would you like to crown as the Lady of Love and Beauty?” the announcer bellows. “It is your right, as the winners of the melee.”
The three men don’t hesitate.
“Alice Collins,” Ragnar growls, his blue eyes seizing mine. “Our woman.”
“Absolutely,” Mizhir agrees, his gaze glued to me as well.
“This was all for you, baby,” Rizza rasps, not caring that everyone can hear.
The announcer swivels, as does the rest of the crowd, and suddenly, I can feel everyone looking at me. My heart thumps as my cheeks flame once more, but slowly, I get up and approach the front of the seating area.
“I’m Alice,” I murmur. “Or Ali, as most people call me.”
Then, Ragnar steps forward and places a beautiful tiara of red roses on my curls before leaning in for a kiss. The crowd bursts into applause around us, and suddenly, I realize that this is real. These men have declared their respect and admiration for me in front of their friends, family, and really, the entire city. They’ve introduced me to Lysenian culture and heritage, and have chosen me as the Lady of Love and Beauty for the world to see.
“Youare our Lady of Love and Beauty,” Ragnar whispers in my ear as people continue cheering. “Always.”
Mizhir and Rizza step closer then, so that the four of us form a tight circle, oblivious to the rest of the world.
“We love you,” Rizza adds, his tone serious and commanding at once. “We want to be with you, Ali, no matter what it takes.”