by Juliet Lili
The elf! Where does the elf fit in all this? Nara mulled, strange things were happening. It’s far more than a coincidence for the elf to show up right now.
“What is it?” her eyebrows lowered and scrunched together when Barra stared at her too intently.
“What?” he asked blankly.
“You’re looking at me.” she told him.
“Is it wrong to look at you?” Telling him, she didn’t like to be stared at was useless when he already knows how she felt about it but never cared to stop.
Nara shook her head. “No. It’s just the way you’re looking at me, like…” she licked her lips. It was like how he looked at her the last evening in Latrell, his stare was too long than usual and held something she did not want to discern. Barra drew closer, his boots almost touching her clad feet and murmured lowly. “like how?”
“Like…” Nara lifted her eyes to his face and found him looking over her shoulder and called, “Astrid.”
Nara turned and distanced herself from Barra quickly, but Astrid seemed to not have noticed or cared how close they were, rather Astrid was the one who looked embarrassed when she met her gaze. After the talk that night in the woods, everything became awkward between them. Astrid would avoid her gaze or would barely speak to her. Nara was confused, did she say something to offend her?
“May I have a word with you, alone” Astrid averted her eyes to Barra. She felt the cold shoulder.
Alright then. Nara thought to herself. She knew where she was not wanted.
“Tell me when you hear more.” Nara turned to Barra. She could see it in his eyes that he didn’t want her to leave, he still had more things to say, like answering him foremost. Nara glanced at Astrid again, her friend didn’t spare her a look. There’s nothing she could do, If Astrid didn’t want to speak with her, it left her no choice but to leave.
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Chapter Twelve.
Kalil Kingdom
Abasi looked down and studied the servants and guards below the palace’s balcony coming in and out of the palace carrying out duties. He peered beyond the palace to the houses and fields encased by the morning sky. Ridged hills and edged rock mountains formed most of the land while dried grass covered it. It hadn’t rain for over two months, and the sun has been sucking the life out of the land. He hoped the rain would pour down soon before the rivers began to dry. You dwell in rough areas while he mocks you in his riches. He keeps you chained like a dog. Giving you these small territories like bones without enough flesh to keep you tamed. A true ruler conquers what’s his, he takes it in blood and honor. The voice sublime like a chorus of hymns sung by the maidens in the shrines invaded his mind. His weakening frame trembled against the morning breeze, his cloak flapped. His features twisted harshly. Abasi drained all the wine from the goblet he had brought with him out in the balcony and walked back to his room.
He watched his reflection in the large mirror as he dressed in royal garments. The tan color of his skin was paling and thinning, they were dark bags under his eyes. Ugly scars that looked like they were caused by claws of an angry bird adorned his chest and back. His muscles were withering. He had long stopped requesting his servants to dress him after he had seen their questioning looks and disgusts on their faces after they had seen the marks. He had never looked this horrid like the early days of an ill old man. Had he caught an illness or was it the burden that was on his shoulders deteriorating his health as his wife told him countless times. He inserted the black studded belt on it loop and tied it securely around his trousers. He glanced at his satiated sleeping woman on the bed, the streaming sunlight coming in through the opened doors of the balcony, bathed her smooth face.
A wicked smile took form on his lips. The scars he knew who the culprit was. His dressing maids didn’t know and wouldn’t understand his markings were all from throes of passion. The wicked things his wife did to him. Things that brought gratification to him than anything. Their passion was a remedy to his afflicted conscious. He could only find a peace of mind and serenity when his body was in the throes of passion. And lately, just simple coupling couldn’t get him relief, only the seediest actions did.
Mmmh... and his wife knew exactly what he needed. A musing smile played on his lips as he secured the knot of the cape on his shoulders.
He stepped out the room, his guards immediately taking their position behind him, escorting him as he strolled down the long corridors to the assembly court were the counselors and leaders waited for his presence. Red banners dripped from the high ceiling.
Familiar faces frowned at him with displeasure as he sat on the throne. He returned the gesture. He skimmed through the faces-his son Nikolas sat beside the dark skinned Amahle representative in a dashiki with a silver beard, and a stern expression on his face.
Tension filled the room.
“What are these displeasures you want to address?” Abasi asked with indifference knowing too well what the problem was.
“Your Majesty we can’t go to war with Murisa. It will be disastrous!” one of the council members said. Abasi eyed the counsel infuriated woman coolly. Her face scowling. He clenched his teeth and leaned forward. His heart and mind had finally come to terms with the plan of marching against Murisa, he did not need these additional meetings to falter him.
“You will not only put Kalil in danger but each one of us. This is not what Amahle agreed to when we decided to affiliate with Kalil” The Amahle representative spat.
Abasi snapped his eyes at him, then sneered. “You think Lorenz will always be satisfied with the trade deal you made? Then you're mistaken. Tell me hasn’t he started to ship his men to your ports. His men are not there to only watch their cargos and protect their vessels, they are there to study your people and your ways, and when the time comes, he’ll send his army. He’d force you to surrender. He won’t be gentle about it.”
“I do not believe you” the Amahle representative countered.
Abasi sighed frustratingly and called the man’s name. “Ekene, my friend, was I not the one who approached and told you to alert your king of King Lorenz’s father conquering your neighbor Rary and his plans for Amahle. If it weren’t for me, your fate could have been the same as your enemies.”
Ekene remembered that day that had been over seventeen years ago, he also remembered how he and his people had stood ready with weapons and beasts on the shores of the sea of Gali.
He recalled the fear in the Murisa’s General’s eyes when the man saw the feral leemu and faru his people rode. These were not the domesticated ones; they were beasts bred for war. Leemu, a large furry mane mammal with tough scaled skin and long sharp teeth like tusks and sharp claws intended to tear flesh and bone while faru primitive looking with a square long muzzle and long face and massive bodies and horns to impale and stumpy feet to stomp its prey to death.
Ekene looked at Abasi, and the corner of his lips tipped slightly. Abasi was about to exhale in relief, thinking he had managed to convince the representatives and gained firmer ground to draw the others when another person spoke. “Think of our children….” the room erupted with grumbles and protests. Abasi sat quietly and perceived the angry lords before him.
“You have doomed us all. Who knows Lorenz’s force is coming to our doors as we speak.’
“Sitting on the throne had made you bored, and now you wish to entertain yourself with our lives.”
“This is like the Dark ages.”
“We were foolish to allow an Einarr to sit on the throne. From the beginning, they have brought darkness upon us…”
One lord after another raised their voice. Each word got in his ears and pierced his conscience. His head throbbed to each new voice ringing in the hall.
Was I wrong? Abasi agonized as doubt began to crawl and tap his bones with a chill. They look, but they do not see. You see the twisted world we live in. The lords are a belly full of their riches. They have forgotten the ruler who pulls their puppet strings. It is your duty to remind
them, husband. Once they witness a small victory, they’d remember and be on your side. The words his wife had whispered in his ears some night ago, when they were alone sounded in his mind. Abasi locked his jaw, his fist set hard on the armrest of the throne. His lower eyelids twitched with resolute determination. He would see his plan through. He was willing to be the villain in the eyes of his people.
Several minutes passed before the hall was silent again and hostile eyes were back on him, waiting for his response. Anger and hatred were inscribed on their faces. He noticed how rigid they sat as if they were tethered on a tight leash which they could not wait to break free and jump him.
He cleared his throat.
“As the king of Kalil, I declare war against Murisa so let every one of you know and be ready” Abasi announced in a low, dangerous tone. A wave of gasps and disbelief rolled over the high table. He leveled his gaze at the General, Schmerz. A man he knew wouldn’t dare deceive him since his hatred for the people of Murisa ran so deep in him it was terrifying.
“We proceed as decided, devouring them as a snake would its prey. From the head to its tail. Spread the word to every household that no man, woman or child is to travel to Murisa unless they invoke death to themselves.” He watched the fear in other council members’ faces as they glanced quickly at Schmerz. “And for the rest of you, weaklings get out of the hall!” He shouted, his voice booming in the room. He was so tired, he closed his eyes, feet trembling beneath his royal robe, and listened to chairs scrape the floor and feet shuffling as the council members departed from the hall.
Opening his eyes, Nikolas stood beneath the stairs to the throne, hands pinned on his back. Dressed fitly, Nikolas wore a rustic waistcoat with an excellent linen shirt underneath and his black breeches tucked into black riding boots. He also had blonde hair, handsome face with grey eyes. His son possessed the likeness of his late wife. Even his personality was the likes of his dead mother, reserved and sensible, never condoning violence unless necessary and left without a choice. Nikolas was a lover, not a fighter. The only resemblence to him was his tall figure, hair and his deep bass voice that was too sophisticated for a twenty-two-year-old boy. Nikolas hadn’t spoken a word throughout the meeting.
Abasi stared at him. He used to love his son so much because he reminded him of his dead wife, but now he detested the sight of him. Nikolas had become a shadow reminder of his weakness. Nevertheless, curiosity itched him to know what his son wanted to say. “Speak.”
“Your Majesty...Father, may I have a word with you alone” Nikolas asked and looked at the guards standing on his sides and the corners of the room. Abasi signaled the guards to leave the chamber.
“This is utterly madness father! What has gotten into you? Are you that greedy for power that you would jeopardize years of peace?” Nikolas spoke furiously as soon as the last guard fled the room. Abasi noted his red face, nostril flaring, his eyes cold as the winter storms. He has never seen his son this furious, he wished his anger was directed towards his masterful course. It could have been more useful.
What a waste. Abasi pitted. Maybe it was madness taking over his being, but he won’t watch his son or anyone deter him from his glorious plan. He would do what his father and the ones before him had failed to do.
“Don’t lecture me boy!” he bellowed, banging his fist on the chair’s hand.
“I’m doing what all of you can’t do. You’re all cowards. I’m giving you the greatest present that you’ll ever have…sweeter than being with the most valuable whore in the sheets.” Abasi grinned at his own statement, he knew someone who could oppose his statement. Nikolas paced about the floor, his head low then stopped and glanced at him. His forehead creased. “Is it more lands father…? I can negotiate with the Oad and come to proper terms without either of us shedding blood.”
Abasi scoffed.
“We can offer them military alliance in exchange for a piece of their land. They won’t refuse for the sake of protecting their people from the Vires” Nikolas continued. “I have done it before with Amahle. I promise I can do it again” his son’s eyes pleaded with his. Abasi briefly shifted his gaze from Nikolas as a sense of pride, pity, shame and guilt burrowed his heart. He was proud of Nikolas’ ambitions of course.
“When I become a king, I will make the wars stop” his son had said to him once, unexpectedly. He was just a boy then over five summers’ old, riding alongside him in the bright green field as they had their father and son bond time. As a father who was interested in his son’s life, his words had struck him greatly that he’d wished to know the reason why Nikolas aspired to do so.
“It gives you wounds father, and I don’t like seeing you hurt. The mother told me war doesn’t always solve problems” Nikolas said then clucked at the horses overtaking and galloping ahead of him with giggles. His son had grown to do just so, although indirectly, first by locking himself in the library and studying the histories of their kingdom and others, criticizing their alleged justifiable reasons to wage war against the other. Disappointed and riled, he’d called both parties piggish, unjust and other obscene words. And through the men he had assigned to watch over Nikolas discretely as he got older, they had told him of his involvement with reformist clubs. Young scholars whose governing ways were little far-out the traditional customs mostly used, encouraging better life standard for everyone whether slave or not, involving education, family and wages and so forth.
“What of Einarr's treaty? Abasi growled snapping from memory, Nikolas stopped pacing and went still before him. “Or have you forgotten that no matter what we do, we’ll still be Murisa’s slaves as long the treaty is upheld. This the only we can free ourselves,” he added harshly.
“But we can negotiate with king Lorenz, surely he can-”
Abasi stood, shaking with anger and cut him off. “Don’t be a fool! You’re still wet behind your ears in politics, King Lorenz will eat you up the moment you set foot on his land” Abasi said derisively. Easing back on his throne he added, “Let me ask you, do you enjoy seeing that whore of yours selling herself to the Muri?” striking straight to the heart.
Nikolas’s turned stone cold. Hurt, jaw twitching, anger sizzled to the surface of his face for a moment.
Good, maybe that will chase away his childish idealistic attempts to persuade Lorenz.
“There has to be another way” Nikolas ground out and fled the hall.
Abasi sighed, feeling sorry and bitter towards his son.
“What’s with the ghastly looks?”
Dagny walked to him, her dark winged eyebrows arched, hips swaying under the sheer gown she wore. He could see the outline of her legs and hips while the floral embellishment only hid her breasts and that sweet spot he desired to be buried in. Her was hair down. She looked even more radiant under the sun light streaming through the enormous windows. Desire stirred in him and dulled the glum emotions he felt. Dagny approached the throne and stood in front of him.
“I thought if I could take you right here”, he drawled and grabbed her wrists, pulling her forward. She pushed him back on the chair and sat on his lap. His hands began to lift the flimsy fabric she called a dress.
“We can’t.... we shouldn’t”, Dagny replied slapping his hands away.
He smiled at her playing coy. He kissed her fiercely before staring at her again. Her eyes were strangely dark blue and piercing like something unwelcomingly cold resided in them. His grip on her hip quivered. As if hearing his thoughts, her eyelids shut and kissed him back vigorously as her hands grasped and shoved his shoulders. Abasi’s torso hit the throne back with force, forcing a sharp breath to leave his lungs. He gave her a breathless grin.
Dagny gathered her gown up, exposing her thighs and straddled him. She kept on kissing him, biting his lip, her teeth knocking his while she freed his manhood from his trousers and took him inside her. Her eyes dilated, and she moaned.
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Chapter Thirteen
Forod Kingdom
H
ouse of Gwainor
Calemir stood beside the lavish bed on which his father, Gwainor slept. He watched with unreadable expression how the mighty king lay perfectly still, his silvery blonde hair a crown on his head, his paled face peaceful, too peaceful he looked dead. It was only the faintest breath that wheezed out from his nose assured Calemir he was still alive. No one had been able to figure out what caused his father to fall into such state. All the excellent physicians and healers across the lands had failed to identify the source of his illness. It worried him greatly. Calemir’s face hardened and fought hard from driving his fist into the wall. He darted his eyes toward his mother who sat on the edge of the bed, her hands on her lap and fingers clutching the velvety dress she wore. She longingly looked at her husband. Her weary face pinched as if she was about to cry, yet no tears flowed from her eyes. She had taxed her eyes for the last days that she had no more tears to shed.
There was one thing kept him from bowing his head in resignation. He prayed to the skies that Leena would succeed.
“Your majesty, prince Calemir” a female spoke behind him. He regarded the young maiden standing at the door, dressed in simple garments. The young elf curtsied before them then lifted her head.
“What is it?” Calemir asked, his voice gruff from being unused for a while.
“Lady Leena Navari requests your presence in the hall,” the servant said softly. Every muscle in his body stiffened and his gut knotted in both anticipation and worry. He turned his head to his mother, seeking permission to leave.
“I’ll be okay. Now go” the queen urged, her voice raspy from crying. He did not need to be told twice. Calemir advanced, passing the young maid standing at the door. The person who held the only chance for his father’s cure had come.
His boots pattered lightly against the polished floor of the corridors as he agilely forward for the hall where Leena awaited. Tension unwound and wound itself inside him. He perceived her when he rounded the hall, standing at the center of the room, her back toward him and her head cocked up, staring at the colorful stained-glass vault. Leena was cladded in a green cloak, its cape pushed back revealing her silky blonde hair.
