The Lion and the Crow
Love Has No Boundaries
An M/M Romance series
THE LION AND THE CROW
By Eli Easton
Introduction
The story you are about to read celebrates love, sex and romance between men. It is a product of the
Love Has No Boundaries
promotion sponsored by the
Goodreads M/M Romance Group
and is published as a free gift to you.
What Is Love Has No Boundaries?
The Goodreads M/M Romance Group invited members to choose a photo and pen a letter asking for a short M/M romance story inspired by the image; authors from the group were encouraged to select a letter and write an original tale. The result was an outpouring of creativity that shone a spotlight on the special bond between M/M romance writers and the people who love what they do.
A written description of the image that inspired this story is provided along with the original request letter. If you’d like to view the photo, please feel free to join the
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and visit the discussion section:
Love Has No Boundaries
.
Whether you are an avid M/M romance reader or new to the genre, you are in for a delicious treat.
Words of Caution
This story may contain sexually explicit content and is
intended for adult readers.
It may contain content that is disagreeable or distressing to some readers. The
M/M Romance Group
strongly recommends that each reader review the General Information section before each story for story tags as well as for content warnings.
This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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The Lion and the Crow, Copyright © 2013 Eli Easton
Cover Art by Eli Easton
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M/M Romance Group Publication
THE LION AND THE CROW
By Eli Easton
Photo Description
The photo is of the actor Henry Cavill from
The Tudors
, a very handsome and serious-looking young man with brown hair, a light beard and blue eyes. He’s dressed like a medieval knight in a chainmail shirt and shoulder armor.
Story Letter
Dear Author
,
I’ve just won my spurs and a long, hard climb it’s been. Being the youngest of seven sons gives you far too many sets of shoes to fill.
But there are things I haven’t told my liege, things I can’t tell him. These unnatural feelings must mean I harbor a demon. Yet, when I watch him on the practice field… I can’t stop the yearning.
Sincerely,
Angel
Story Info
Genre:
historical
Tags:
knights, first time, slow burn/ust, abduction, abuse
Content warnings:
graphic violence, attempted rape, domestic abuse
Word count:
32,449
Acknowledgements
This story was written for the “Love Has No Boundaries” free fiction event put on by the M/M Romance Group of goodreads.com. The mods of that group generously take on a great deal of work to create these events in order to promote the genre of m/m romance and the writers within it. My thanks to them for providing the platform for this story and to the volunteer editors who reviewed it. Thanks to Angel of the M/M Romance Group for the lovely and inspiring prompt for this story. And a big thank you to my beta readers Kate Rothwell and Kim Whaley.
THE LION AND THE CROW
By Eli Easton
CHAPTER 1
The first time William saw him, he was riding onto the tournament field on a red horse. His tunic was brilliant blue with a white eagle spreading its wings on the front, identifying him as one of Lord Brandon’s sons. Glinting silver armor was plated over his shoulders, his arms, and the tops of his legs. Underneath he wore black leggings and boots.
It is a warrior’s habit to size up an enemy— or a rival. So William felt no shame in staring as he took the youth’s measure. The armor he wore was polished but functional. It was well-used, not that of a mere peacock. A black velvet girdle was slung low on his narrow hips. His shoulders were broad for his frame, but his chest was slender and his waist slim. There was nothing of the larder on him. He rode his mount as light as a feather. William’s eyes dropped to his spurs— gilded. He was a full knight. But William knew well enough that such a thing could be all but bought by the nobility.
The round was archery, and the young knight had foregone any protection or decoration for his head— neither helmet, beads, nor braids. His hair was nearly black, chopped shorter than was fashionable, and bristled on top in a barbaric style. It was a harsh warrior’s cut, but on him it only made a more open frame for his face. It was the finest face that William had ever seen. It was long, narrow, and delicate, with full, quirked lips, a straight nose, a dimpled chin, and broad arched brows over large, dark eyes. His skin was as pale as a bucket of cream. There was a rosy cast on the proud bones of his cheek that any maiden would kill her own dam for. It was a battle flush perhaps, in anticipation of the contest.
William was used to forming an impression in an instant, and he rarely changed them. In his mind there were men made for battle, craggy and crude. Those were the men you wanted by your side— if their tempers were not too odious whilst in their cups. And then there were men made for the pleasing of women, as if God had put such men here for the sole purpose of warming a woman’s blood for her husband’s bed, thus guaranteeing the spread of the human race. The later might well claim to be the former— as good in battle as any man. But rarely had William found it to be the case. Perhaps it was a problem of motivation. What man, given the choice, wouldn’t rather be thrusting between a woman’s thighs than thrusting a spear on the practice field? Beauty was most oft lazy.
This young knight was definitely a woman-pleaser. He was beautiful in a way William had never seen on a man. In truth, he’d never even seen it on a woman. That did little to inspire his trust. He registered the distinctly feminine cheers of welcome the crowd afforded the rider, aptly proving William’s point. And then the young knight rode past William— and looked at him.
It wasn’t a mere glance. His eyes met William’s when he was still ten paces away and held them, unrelenting, as he rode in front of him. He even turned his head as he passed before letting his gaze finally slip from William’s. William did not back down from the stare. He dropped his eyes for no man. But he stood stoically, nothing showing on his face. It seemed forever that the knight passed, that those eyes were locked on his. They were a rich, dark brown and full of warmth and life. Even with the knight’s face placidly composed, those eyes seemed to speak volumes in a language William didn’t understand. They reached inside him and made his stomach clench hard with feeling.
Confusion? Curiosity? Outrage?
What did he mean by looking at William thus? They’d never met. Was it a challenge? A welcome to a stranger? The admiration of a young warrior to an elder one? Had he heard tales of William’s prowess? Or had he mistaken William for someone else?
William had stopped to watch the procession of archers on his way to the stables, where he’d been taking his tired mount after the last victorious round of jousting. Now he found himself in a crowd of the castle’s laborers. One of them was a blacksmith, his beefy form wrapped in a scarred leather apron.
“D’ya know ’im?” he asked William. “The Crow?”
“No.” William frowned as the name sank in. “The
Crow
?”
The man chuckled. “Aye, poor lad. He’s the youngest of seven and his brothers took all the more favorable names.”
Another man, craggy and shrunken with age, spoke up. “Lessee, there’s a bear, a hound, a fox….”
“Badger,” a third man said brightly. “That’s Sir Peter Brandon.”
“Aye. Badger. Vulture’s one, innit?”
“’Tis Sir Thomas,” the blacksmith agreed amiably.
“Lessee. Must be one more….” Craggy Face pondered seriously.
“Lion?” The third man suggested.
The blacksmith glanced at William knowingly. “Nay. None of the Lord’s sons has earned
that
title. And if the first two don’t, you can bet the latter won’t. Elder brothers won’t be outdone.”
“Hence ‘the Crow,’” Craggy Face snorted.
“Boar,” the third man supplied helpfully. “’ee’s the biggest ’un.”
“Sir Stephan! That’s got it done. Boar suits him too. Even the teeth.” Craggy Face barred his teeth and chomped. A stench wafted on the breeze.
William’s eyes were drawn back to the Crow as he moved away, tall and straight in the saddle. From the back his shoulders looked broader still. They narrowed in a defined V to an almost delicate waist. “And that one? The Crow? What’s his Christian name?” William asked.
That earned him guffaws of laughter from all three of his new companions. William looked at the blacksmith in annoyance, his hand going to the hilt of his sword. The blacksmith held up his large paws placatingly. “No offense, Sir Knight. Only his name is Christian. Sir Christian Brandon. ’Tis that what’s amused us.”
William smiled and relaxed. “I see. I must be getting prescient. He’s young to have his spurs.”
“Not
so
young,” Craggy Face said.
“What has Sir Christian, twenty summers?” the third man questioned no one in particular.
“Say what you like, ’ee’s earned them spurs,” the blacksmith said firmly. “Them brothers of his gave him no quarter. Hard as iron nails, every last one of ’em.”
“Let’s go watch ’im shoot,” said Craggy Face, with eager anticipation. They hurried away from William, following the general flow of the crowd towards the archery targets.
William almost followed. He was curious to see the Crow shoot, to see if he had any skill to match that noble bearing. But then he thought better on it, changed direction, and headed for the stables. He did not know what to make of the youngest Brandon, knew not the meaning behind his look. But an uneasy feeling warned him that keeping his distance was the most expedient course. He was here for a purpose. He needed to put his cause to Lord Brandon and earn his help. He couldn’t afford to antagonize any of his sons. And he couldn’t afford to get led astray with wenching, gaming, or fighting either. His suit was too important— to Elaine and to himself.
William walked away, leading his horse to the stables as the
thwunk
of arrows and the roar of the crowd sounded loud behind him.
****
CHAPTER 2
Christian strode through the castle hallways, his blood thrumming in a splendid rush. It had been a good day. He’d taken top honors in archery and had acquitted himself well in foot combat. He’d earned his father’s pleased nod as he handed Christian his cup. And he was bestowed a kiss upon his cheek from Lady Gwendolyn.
Lady Gwendolyn’s lips were soft and perfumed. Christian had been unable to stop his eyes from shyly falling to the ground like a callow youth, which had earned him laughs and hardy slaps on the back from his father’s men. And even as he blushed and grinned, Christian’s eyes had sought a certain face in the crowd, one with lips not soft and not perfumed. Christian hadn’t found him there.
The knight’s name was Sir William Corbet. Christian had learned this from the man who ran the tournament. William was the son and heir of a minor noble, Lord Geoffrey Corbet, whose lands lay fifteen leagues to the southeast. Christian had noticed William in the first jousting bout of the day, when William had beaten six of his father’s knights, including Christian’s brother, Thomas.