Below the Peak (Sola)(38)
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.
---
Chapter Thirteen
Forod Kingdom
House 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.