Hello everyone.
My apologies to those who follow this series. I am incredibly sorry about my delay. I recently had two deaths in my family, both of whom I was very close, and, one of which, was very tragic. I've been in the pits lately and been up to writing. Once again, I do apologize for my lack of updates. More to come!
Please, enjoy.
~E
Chapter Ten
Black robes swished through the gaping hall as the figures quickly strode through the stone interior, their footsteps echoing throughout the entire castle.
Word had been spreading of her appearance. Word about the missing girl with the purple eyes, the one they'd been looking for, for almost two decades. She had been taken from her room, an orphan babe in the Adraemor Kingdom palace, by thieves who'd wanted to sell her. She was the last of the Ravelon line; the rightful heir to the throne of Adraemor.
Her family had been slaughtered, all ten of them in their sleep but she had been stolen just hours before the uprising. Before the now empress resided over the kingdom.
Fat lot of good the previous emperor had been. Ruling with his emotions rather than logic had him spiraling down into a bout of near chaos with his kingdom. When she took over, the empress wanted to straighten the land out and did so with both her power and her skilled verbiage. She had been able to convince her subjects and advisors with just a slip of her tongue.
The queen had ruled Adraemor, side by side with her husband and with the best intentions and regards while also searching for the lost princess, Avelyn, somehow raising three sons in the process to become the future ruler. She would be damned if the last Ravelon child were to resurface and claim her prize, the golden throne. Empress Jehenne's men and advisors were the reason she now ruled Adraemor and she was not willing to let that go.
After birthing three sons, she knew she had to establish her bloodline for the crown and ensured that none of her subjects would question if she belonged on the throne or not.
However, there was one being in the entire world who could thwart her plans and that was Avelyn. She sported the telltale violet eyes of the Ravelon family and anyone who could travel with a mouthpiece would surely recognize her. Jehenne forbade all talk of the color purple so her people would not remember who was supposed to sit above them.
The Seekers entered the grand throne room, their boots clacking on the marble flooring, causing the queen to jerk her head up upon their entrance. Her indigo eyes cut to the four men bowing before her, hope evident on her face. She turned away the advisor who didn't glance in their direction but rather kept speaking about the importance of feed and land. He seemed annoyed but bowed his head and climbed down the five-step dais, leaving the meeting for he knew was not invited.
The Lead Seeker, Sir Syne, stood up and held his arm to his middle. "My queen, it's wha' we've thought."
The queen rose, her black gown hugging every curve of her slender form, the bodice causing her breasts to appear plump and round for a babe. Her dark eyes looked down her thin nose at the rugged man, a silver eye patch covering one gray eye. He had a scar under the patch, and she would know, she'd seen him without it many times. Her ruby lips were pressed together before she uttered the word, "And?"
His chapped lips smiled at her. "It's her, yer highness. It's Princess Avelyn and she's trapped in Ieslal under King Cassius' care as a slave. Know' by her new name of Devyn."
The name sounded familiar to Jehenne. Where had she heard it before? Perhaps in passing from years ago when she was but a child. No matter now. The Seekers had located her, the only ones allowed on the surreptitious task to bring the girl to Adraemor. No one was allowed to know she was still alive.
"We will travel to Iselal. I will retrieve that girl if it's the last thing I do," she threatened as she stepped down the dais.
She passed Sir Syne and placed a hand on his shoulder as she did so, an indication for him to await her in her chambers for later. With the current Emperor visiting neighboring kingdoms and doing gods know what, she needed the company for the night.
He nodded and motioned for his men to leave before he followed them.
"Princess Avelyn will not die by a Broslan's hand," she said, hearing the echo resound out around her. Jehenne glanced down at her left hand and saw the shadows forming between her fingers in sparks.
She twitched her fingers and it spread up her arm before she shook it to snuff the shadow out. Aye, the power was bubbling in her veins but she would wait until the time was right.
Chapter Eleven
He hadn't done this in quite some time, so he may be considered weak by the others.
Cassius cracked his neck and wrapped knuckles as he entered the tavern on the outskirts of Ieslal. One of the massive towers stood just to the left behind the giant wall. It was imposing in the late evening and sent a long shadow over this part of the kingdom. The King's Inn was where Cassius would go when he was much younger and in need of a violent release.
The owner was a stout old Broslan who was blind in one eye and sported a mean right hook. She was lovely once one got to know her, however she ran an underground business of providing a natural cavern beneath her inn for just what Cassius was needing.
He needed to fight.
Upon entering the tavern, he nodded to Odora who stood behind a wooden bar, scrubbing mugs and filling them at the same time. She may have been aged but Odora could work until she no longer was able to walk.
Flarin, his advisor, was directly behind him as he followed the lengthy line of Broslans down a winding staircase to the open cavern. A roaring crowd of pounding boots and raised voices greeted Cassius when he made it to the bottom. A group of muscular Broslans stood to the far back and waved him over. Pulling the black hood further down to conceal his identity, Cassius weaved in and out of the numerous bodies of Broslan males that thrashed against one another.
These were his confidants and sometimes, his bodyguards. Part of the Thirteen, these Broslans chose to serve and sacrifice their life for their king. King Riynor had his own set of protectors just like his father before him and so on. It wasn't that they were particularly needed as Cassius could defend himself if need be yet the extra help was welcomed.
The Thirteen escorted Cassius on political runs and visitations to other kingdoms. Typically, they all rode together on one of the many Midnight Rides the king demanded.
Syriaca grinned widely, his sharp teeth glinting in the low light from sconces adorning the walls. His cerulean eyes lit up at the sight of Cassius. Syriaca was his oldest and dearest friend and he was also the leader of the Thirteen. Having been raised together, albeit in separate parts of the castle, Syriaca knew the hardships Cassius had been through with his father. He even endured them with Cassius so he would never be alone. A jagged scar marred his right cheek, angry and brown, it contrasted vastly with his pale skin that he'd received the night Cassius nearly lost his eyesight.
"Syriaca," the king grunted and patted the Broslan on his back.
Syriaca nodded his greeting, knowing the law the king had in effect. However, Cassius did make exceptions for the Thirteen seeing as how it would be needed. Cassius often wondered why he made that law up. For control? Possibly. For reverence? Most likely.
You want them to fear you
, he thought to himself and knew that's what he wanted. After all, his father taught him that being a monarch was the most powerful anyone could be.
"How is the competition?" He asked in his native language.
Leuce, Syriaca's second in command, stepped up beside his cloaked king and bowed slightly so as not to draw any stares or to alert the others. "Fair game, sire. The champion, Thalanil Dorna, still presides over the title. He has beaten your score, your highness."
Brash and uncaring, Leuce would speak up to the king regardless if he was asked to or not. He was boyish in his appearance but he possessed a dark past of nonstop abuse by his mother. Like most normal Broslan families, one or both parents usually were domineering and foul in the upbringing of their offspring. It was horrendous.
Cassius groaned. He had been the reigning victor under the pseudonym, Kane, for many years. Ever since he reached the age of three and ten, he'd come into the cavern and fight. Until his father found out and had him beaten within an inch of his life. From then on, he'd sneak out of his tower with the help of Syriaca and Leuce so they could take their frustrations out on unsuspecting combatants.
There was a massive Broslan who stood in the middle of the crowd, his hands on the bare chests of two fighters, both sweating and heaving from their round. But they weren't finished yet; this little pause was merely an intermission so they could collect themselves.
"Remember, no magic," the arbitrator hissed before releasing the two, hormone filled males.
