Children of the Knight (70 page)

“Very well, Jenny. The time of destiny be at hand. Come.” With Chris walking between them, Arthur called out to the others, “Come, my knights, we march.”

All the boys assembled as they had on the cleanup campaigns and dutifully followed after their king and queen toward whatever destiny Fate had in store for them.

S
INCE
neither Lance nor Jack had their phones, and neither ever wore a watch, and with no windows in their holding cell, neither boy had any idea how much time had passed since they’d been thrown in there. But they knew for certain that time was running out for Arthur, maybe for the entire Round Table, unless they figured out what to do.

They lay up against the wall side by side, thoughtful and brooding, lamenting choices made and not made. Words said and not said. But none of it mattered anymore, because neither boy really believed he’d come out of this alive.

“He’s gonna kill us,” Lance finally said aloud, though he’d been thinking it for hours. Thinking about that. About Arthur. About Mark. And about Jack. A
lot
about Jack. And the “g” word. Did it even matter anymore if he was gay? After all, death didn’t care what you were.

“Soon as he takes down Arthur,” he finished, his soft voice hopeless and accepting.

Jack sighed with resignation. He’d reached the same conclusion, but found he wasn’t tight with fear. No, he actually felt at peace. It would be okay. Dying didn’t scare him like it did most people. Mark was out there somewhere, waiting. Maybe he’d finally get up the courage to tell the boy how much he’d loved him….

“Well, I know for sure
I’m
toast,” he affirmed stoically. “You heard what he said about faggots.”

Lance looked over sharply, anger welling at the humiliating way Jack had been treated. “Don’t use that word! You’re Jack, and you’re good. Fuck him!”

Jack smiled sadly. “Don’t worry about it, Lance. I’m used to being called names.”

Lance’s eyes burned. “Well, you shouldn’t be!”

Jack just grinned gratefully, his body suddenly warm, his heart restless. This boy was
so
amazing. He found himself staring at Lance, biting back the urge to reach out and pull him in close. “It doesn’t matter anymore. He
will
kill me, Lance, I know that. You might have a shot, though.”

Lance snorted in disgust. “For what? To work for that scumbag? I’d rather die first!”

He paused and met Jack’s eyes.

The older boy nodded and smiled back appreciatively, heart still edgy, limbs tingly.

Sudden awkwardness overwhelmed Lance, and he couldn’t meet his friend’s gaze, couldn’t look at Jack’s handsome, battered face, or into those sad and fatalistic brown eyes. He fought the lump in his throat.

“What’s the matter?” Jack asked uncertainly, fisting his tunic to quell his shaking hands.

Lance looked up shyly, hesitantly, his heart suddenly uneven and afraid. “Well, we both probably won’t make it and, well, I been thinking a lot about, well, I been kinda wondering if… well, about what you said before, about the things we
don’t
say to each other?” He turned red and fell silent, eyes downcast.

Jack felt mystified and flustered by his own confused feelings, but he tried for nonchalance. “Hey, badass boy, this is your best friend over here. Spit it out.”

Lance suddenly looked him right in the eye before he lost the nerve. “Can I kiss you, Jack?”

Jack blanched, his face displaying guilt and hope and shock all at the same time. “What?” It was but a wisp of breath, almost inaudible.

Now Lance dropped his gaze, his chest constricting, his cheeks burning. “I’m sorry, it’s stupid, I know. It’s just that, well, Reyna kissed me one time, and I know I liked it, but, well, I’d just really like to kiss you too. I know I sound crazy!” He felt almost breathless with embarrassment.

Jack understood, or thought he did, and reached out to gently grasp the boy’s tremulous hand, hoping to steady his own. “No, you don’t, but you’re
not
gonna die here, Lance. I’m gonna make sure of that.”

Lance almost looked ill he was so mortified. “I just have a bad feeling, you know, and I been wondering what it….” He trailed off again, lowering his head in disgrace.

“What it would feel like to kiss another boy?” Jack finished for him, suddenly flashing back to his own first kiss and how his whole body seemed to melt right down into his shoes.

Lance lifted his heartrending eyes, almost offended. “No, Jacky. I been wondering what it would feel like to kiss….” His gaze dipped beneath his lashes for a second, and then he peeked timidly back out. “…
you
.”

Jack’s eyes went wide with surprise and staggering comprehension, the blood drained from his face, his fingers unexpectedly going cold and numb with fear.

Lance saw that guilt-ridden look in Jack’s eyes. That look of betrayal. Betrayal of Mark. “Never mind, it’s stupid. Just forget I said anything. God, I’m such a pathetic loser!” He pulled his hand back and looked away shamefully. His stomach plummeted, his heart caught in his throat, and he wished he could just disappear into the floor.

Jack paused, breathing suddenly stopped, hands shaking as he once more recalled Mark’s words to him in that letter:
“You two would be good for each other….”
Mark had given him permission. Had Mark somehow sensed the effect Lance would eventually have on him, and him on Lance? Could he even have seen Jack’s love for him but believed Lance more worthy of it?

Since the moment Jack had accepted that he wasn’t bi, that he would never be attracted to the girls who hovered around him like bees to pollen, he somehow knew he didn’t want to be a player and treat boys like so many guys on the football team treated those girls. He was lonely, and his parents’ indifference toward him only reinforced his pervasive sense of unworthiness. But even then, at fourteen, he knew he wanted someone to love who would love him back, someone amazing and special and one of a kind.

Someone like… Lance….

Jack turned his body and reached out to cup trembling hands around his friend’s soft, smooth face and forced their eyes to meet. “You are
so
not a loser, Lance. Oh my God, no.” He hesitated then, all poignant eyes and unsteady heart. His breath seemed to waver uncertainly on his lips. “But you know I… I still love Mark.”

Lance nodded desperately, those deep green eyes so doleful and heartbreaking. “I know. I just wanted to, you know, see what it felt like. With
you
.”

Shame and remorse filled him, and he was sure Jack would say no.

But Jack didn’t say no, because he didn’t want to. He leaned in before Lance could say another word and pressed his lips gently to those of the younger boy.

Lance remained still a moment, closed his eyes, and kissed him back. Jack’s lips felt so soft against his, so achingly perfect, and Jack’s fingertips caressing his face seemed feathery light and warm.

It was a lingering, tender, and loving kiss. Lance felt such an overwhelming rush of excitement alight his every nerve ending that he thought for a second he might pass out, and Jack, too, felt an astonishingly intense jolt of pleasure overpower him, and then the boys hesitantly pulled away from each other.

Lowering his shaky hands awkwardly, staggered by his own reaction, Jack blew out a short breath and skillfully hid his turmoil as he eyed Lance carefully. “Well?”

Lance smiled uneasily, pulling his own wavering breath back into his lungs, and touched his lips with trembling fingertips. “I don’t know.” He
did
know, but he didn’t want Jack to feel even
more
guilty. “I’m not sure how it made me feel.” He dropped his gaze so Jack wouldn’t see the lie plainly written in his eyes.

Jack nodded, his own rush of excitement troubling and thrilling him in equal measure. “You want my advice?”

Lance nodded eagerly, his head still lowered, his body warm, his heart fluttery.

“Wait till you fall for someone, and then it’ll be the Fourth of July.” He glanced down a moment, fearing Lance might see what
he
was really feeling.

Lance raised his head to smile uncertainly, a smile tinged with bittersweet sadness. “Thanks, Jacky.”

Jack nodded again, sensing the reason behind that sadness, and deftly fought to veil his own unsteady nerves. He needed to change the subject. “I promise you, Lance, whatever happens to me, I
will
save you.”

Lance grinned slyly, needing to still his own timorous heart. “Not if I save you first.”

That broke the awkward tension, and Jack laughed. “Deal,” he said and they bumped fists.

Both boys settled back against the wall, and Lance’s eye fell on the toilet across the room. An idea began to form in his crafty mind. “You know, Jack, I been thinking. They
might
take us with them when they go to do, you know, whatever. You heard R.—he might need us for negotiations or something.”

Jack shrugged. “So? What can we do?”

“We need to arm ourselves,” Lance whispered, just in case the place was bugged.

“With what?” Jack whispered right back. “They took our dirks, our phones, everything.”

Lance nodded. “Yeah, but I just got an idea.” A wonderful, crazy idea. He nodded his head toward the toilet.

Jack eyed the toilet and then turned back to Lance with a quizzical look on his face.

Lance just grinned.