A Knight's Exile

By Xander Tracy

A knight exiled to a frozen wasteland, and the one man who can save him from himself...

Andrion Denlas was a knight until he rebelled against the usurper king who poisoned the prince and seized the throne. The sentence for Andrion's rebellion is exile. He's banished through a portal to the frozen wasteland of the Steppe, a land where only the hardiest creatures have any hope of survival. Alone and freezing to death in a blizzard, Andrion is saved by a huge ice bear, a bear that turns out to be a skinshifter named Tauras. The strange man is amazingly strong but surprisingly kind...and handsome as well. Fighting his attraction to Tauras grows increasingly difficult as the man heals him, shelters him, and teaches him how to survive in the wastes. But how can he risk losing his heart when he's vowed to return to his homeland and kill the usurper king...or die trying? Because the more Andrion comes to know him, the more he yearns to stay in the ice and snow with Taurus to keep him warm...

Tauras Zarna has lived alone in the icy wastes for nearly all his life, choosing the path of the moon goddess who has given him the ability to skinshift—to change his form into that of any animal, large or small. But when he saves the life of a stranger from a far off land, he finds himself fascinated with the fierce, driven knight. The man has lost touch with his heart and with his desires, but Tauras intends to bring balance and pleasure to his life once more. Yet Andrion is determined to cross the icy plains, kill the false king, and avenge the prince. Nothing, not even love, seems enough to stop him. But Tauras refuses to give up hope. After all, there is magic in the world, and sometimes a kiss can change everything forever...

Reader note: contains m/m fantasy romance including male male love

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wolf Hill Publishing
• Release date: Aug 13, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201305307

Book preview

Table of Contents

Cover

Table of Contents

Look for these titles from Xander Tracy

Title Page

Copyright Warning

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

About the Author

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A Knight's Exile

Xander Tracy

Etopia Press

Copyright Warning

EBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared, or given away. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is a crime punishable by law. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded to or downloaded from file sharing sites, or distributed in any other way via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000 (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/).

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are fictitious or have been used fictitiously, and are not to be construed as real in any way. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

Published By

Etopia Press

1643 Warwick Ave., #124

Warwick, RI 02889

http://www.etopiapress.com

A Knight's Exile

Copyright © 2018 by Xander Tracy

ISBN: 978-1-937976-83-5

All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

First Etopia Press electronic publication: August 2018

~ Dedication ~

To Kyle D. with love and respect. May you always find your home.

CHAPTER ONE

For your many crimes, Sir Andrion Denlas, including rebellion against the crown, inciting the people to unrest and acts of violence…

Andrion Denlas, Knight of the Crown, could do little more than glare at the man seated on the throne before him. The barbed gag between Andrion’s teeth pricked his tongue every time he moved it and bit into the bloody corners of his mouth. The chains binding his arms behind his back drew them so tightly that his shoulders nearly pulled from their sockets. A score of good men who’d fought alongside him had been killed in this damned room already. He would not be arguing in his own defense at this farce of a trial, that was for certain.

…for leading armed forces against the rightful king…

Andrion snorted hard through his nose, but even that caused the barbs to bite deeper into the corners of his mouth. A fresh drop of blood dripped into his dark beard. Rightful king? Videric Temark was no king. He was nothing more than the illegitimate nephew of the true king, King Sarus, who’d gone mad and killed himself after the death of his son, Prince Rontis. The king’s body had barely grown cold before Temark had thrown the next cousin in the line of succession into prison and snatched the crown. The bastard was nothing more than a usurper.

…for sedition and slander against the rightful king…

Rightful king. Prince Rontis should’ve been king—Sarus’s only son and heir, the greatest warrior, the most august statesman, and the unrequited love of Andrion’s short, bloody life. More than anything, Andrion regretted never having told the prince how he’d felt. For all their friendship, all their casual bedding, they both knew what was expected of Rontis as the king’s heir: making an advantageous marriage and producing heirs of his own.

If Andrion could do it all again, he’d make certain Rontis knew the truth.

Rontis should have been king, and instead, he’d died writhing like a dog on a tavern floor. Poison. The coward’s weapon. It had been Videric Temark’s doing. Andrion was sure of it. And there was only one acceptable ending to this tale: Videric’s head cleanly separated from his body. Andrion had sworn an oath to kill the usurper…and had failed.

He tested his bonds again, but the chains, and the pain in his shoulders, were unyielding. That ending would not come today.

…you are hereby sentenced to…

Death.

…exile.

Andrion blinked. That couldn’t be right. Videric would never be foolish enough to let him live. A flame of hope flickered to life in his gut. Perhaps he would still have a chance at severing the usurper king’s head after all.

The false king smiled petulantly from the throne, every inch a spoiled royal, and chirped in his falsetto, You seem surprised, rebel.

Andrion remained quiet. He couldn’t speak with the gag, but the man was not worth wasting curses upon.

Without removing his gaze from Andrion’s, Videric Temark raised one hand, his rings glinting in the light. A page placed a gem-studded golden chalice in his grasp. The chalice from the Shrine of Olyria. He swirled it nonchalantly, then took a sip. He made a moue of distaste and held the cup out for the page. Get rid of this swill and bring me the Geldish. This is a special occasion.

Imported Geldish wine. When the people of the kingdom were starving. And out of the chalice stolen from the shrine of the gods? Disgust and fury boiled under Andrion’s skin. How this miserable bastard hadn’t been murdered in his sleep by now was beyond him.

But back to the matter at hand. Temark gazed down at him with an arrogant smile. The look of triumph—and evil—in his small, tight eyes forced Andrion to suppress a shiver of disgust.

I can’t blame you for being surprised at your sentence, I suppose, the false king continued. I know what’s going on in that thick head of yours. His smile became a glare. "You never were good at hiding anything you felt, after all. So…devoted to my cousin, so loyal that you served him even after his death. But death is something you will not be given. I will not make you a martyr for your doomed cause, Denlas. There will be no warrior’s burial, no funeral bells to call any rebels to action. No. The rebellion might be dead, but you are to be exiled. Before witnesses. To the Steppe."

Andrion felt his brows rise in confusion. The Steppe? How would Andrion even get to the Steppe? It was a thousand miles to the north, a place so frozen and hostile that only the hardiest of creatures survived there. It wasn’t as if a couple of guards could simply ride out and deliver him. They’d need to supply an entire expedition for such a journey—food, guards, weapons, furs. They’d have to procure fresh horses…

Videric gestured to his page. The boy stepped forward and began to roll up the wide, hand-knotted silk rug lying in front of the throne.

I always thought that old fool, Sarus, wasted the opportunity to make good use of his mages. After all, what’s the point of paying to support a cadre of men with miraculous gifts if you’re never going to use them?

The page continued to roll the rug, revealing a large golden circle larger than a wagon wheel embedded in the stones.

I, on the other hand, have used mine well, connecting the far-away parts of this world. I’ve chosen the loneliest, the harshest place for your exile. A wasteland where no one will see you die.

The high tenor of Videric Temark’s voice felt strangely at odds with the depth of the man’s depravity. Yet Andrion couldn’t look away from the golden circle. Strange sigils and runes threaded through the circle, forming intricately woven rings that crossed and recrossed each other. In their center lay a series of numbers in a format that looked familiar. Latitude and longitude?

A rush of panic swept through Andrion as the slave carried the rug away. The golden circle shone up at him like an infernal sun. He glared up at Videric and nearly spoke, but the gag’s barbs forced the words back into his mouth.

Videric’s thin, cruel lips curved into a smile. He rested his elbows on the arms of his throne and steepled his fingers beneath his chin. "The gods approve of men who show mercy to their enemies. And you have been a truly foul enemy. You deserve this mercy. He leaned closer, lowering his voice, sounding both amused and impressed. You’ve proven yourself to be quite the cockroach over the past year—impressively hard to kill. So I won’t kill you. I’ll let the Steppe swallow all memory of you and bury it in snow. He sat back and gestured to the guards on either side of Andrion. Move him into place."

Andrion fought against the hands that gripped his upper arms and dragged him forward, chains clanging behind him. He ignored the pain in his shoulders, in his mouth, in his knees as they dragged him over the flagstones and threw him onto the center of the circle. Behind him, he heard and felt the heavy shackles being unfastened from his wrists and the clank of chains being dragged away over the stones. A rush of pins and needles burst to life in his shoulders. Before him, the page pressed the golden chalice back into Videric’s hand. The false king took a long draw and smiled with approval.

Three men in dark cloaks appeared from behind Andrion—Videric’s mages—and took up positions around him, keeping a safe distance from the circle. They moved their hands and began to mutter in a tongue Andrion didn’t understand. A bright yellow glow began to emanate from the symbols in the golden circle.

Andrion tried to pull himself to his feet but felt as if the golden circle was holding him in place, searing his knees. His legs felt frozen to the ground. He tried to shout, but all that came out was a muffled, choking gasp as the barbed gag pierced his tongue and he swallowed fresh blood. The golden glow became a wall of searing light, shooting out of the ground and obscuring everything around him. He dragged against the force binding him in place, but it held him fast.

He felt an instant of complete weightlessness as the brilliant light flashed all around him, dazzling him. Then he was falling, or the white ground rushed up to meet him, and he landed in the dark, face down in a pile of snow. The force jarred the gag in his mouth so hard he felt a rush of warm blood spill over his icy, snow-covered lips.

Snow swirled in the howling night wind around him, burning his skin with cold. He pushed to his knees and clawed at the back of the gag until he found the buckle, and after a bit of fumbling managed to open it. He threw the tainted metal to the ground, spitting out gobs of blood as he turned desperately around, looking for the circle. The golden light from the circle, barely visible in the snow that began to cover it, was already fading.

No, he said, his voice no better than a cracked whisper. No! He scrambled to the

Reviews for A Knight's Exile

[Rosinanta · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

It was so sweet, so tender, so beautiful! My heart hurt for them, for their love, loneliness and faith.