Andru
“It has been over half a century since the late King passed and we have no heir or even pending nuptials in the near future. Such indecision is causing instability and uncertainty in the realm. Furthermore, there are rumours that Your Majesty is engaging in immoral and deviant behaviours that only add fuel to the flames.”
“This is true. Your Majesty cannot hide behind grief any longer. The council and the people demand a solidified future.”
“The King must take a wife. And we insisted that the wedding to have taken place by the next moon.”
My stomach dropped at the very notion of theIroinaidCouncil’s demand. How dare they command me to marry? And in less than a month? Hell, it was only a week before the turn of the new moon, and I was expected to find a bride and have a wedding within the next 7 days.
That was utterly ridiculous.
“You insist, do you, Lord Oremord,” I said, staring the Iron Lord down as he held my gaze firm.
“We do, Your Majesty,” reiterated the man who had been the bane of my existence from the moment I ascended to the throne. “And we have assembled a list of appropriate women of marital freedom for you to look over. All of whom are from good families with the appropriate status for Your Majesty.”
The Council’s squire scurried across the room holding a singular piece of paper, only to be stopped in his tracks by my Equerry. I could barely keep the smirk from curling my lips at the sight of the mouse-like man being dwarfed by the young Alv that stood between everyone and me.
Barely.
Flentley held out his hand and the squire for the Council hurriedly placed the list in it. He turned on his heel and mounted the steps to theplynthmy throne was set upon.
“Your Majesty,” the Equerry said, bowing deeply before me.
Boy, fuck me long and hard.
The thought filled my mind, causing my body to react precisely as one would expect for their lover.
The Council was right to worry about the rumours that were circulating about my deviant and illegal sexuality.
Spot fucking on, in fact.
I found no intimate interest in persons of the fairer sex, preferring the company of discreet men that could please me and stay mum on the activities.
Of course, it was in their interest to keep their mouths shut. I could survive the persecution. I would not protect those who entered my bed from the claws of the vultures I called my Council.
My Equerry had been the latest subtle gentleman to have dared to venture into the thralls of my bedchamber. Coming up 10 years, he had been there. And the Goddess of Destiny had long since waived her magic, tethering us to one another as mates, rather than simple fellow travellers.
The very thought of me being tied to a woman, betraying my mate, made my skin crawl. If she was the wrong woman? I fought the desire to shudder.
I couldn’t imagine the hurt Flentley was feeling hearing this demand and worse, that I had to bow to it.
I had to marry, to save myself and my kingdom from ruin.
I had to conceive an heir and a spare, to secure my bloodline and the future of my throne.
And neither I or Marcal could bare those children.
With a deep breath, I glanced over the carefully curated list of potential brides. Each of the Lords in this very room had a daughter in the race, but there was one name that stood out. Or rather, the absence of it.
Sharlott Oremord.
The first born daughter of the Iron Lord himself and the heir to the empire that was the Ironrary. Both the good and the illicit.
In all the years that I had been King, and even when my grandfather was still alive, she had always been passed over when it come to events and engagements. I had never met the woman that had been all but locked away out of my sight, perhaps in the hopes that I would forget that she even existed.
Fat chance of that happening. Her blood-bound mate was my oldest and dearest friend in the world, a formal lover of mine before he had fallen for and bound himself in passion to the oldest daughter of the Iron Lord. I had never known the man to be so hopelessly romantic, but he pined for the woman like a schoolboy.
“There appears to be a Lady missing from this list, Lord Oremord,” I interjected as the hubbub in the Council Chambers was culled instantly.
“That is all the eligible brides in the arisocracy of Iroinaid, Your Majesty,” the weaselly Lord Culthe replied as I shook my head.
Wrong.
“Sharlott Oremord is missing from this list, Culthe. She is the unwed first born daughter of a member this very council, is she not? Her much younger sister is on this list, so why is the Lady to be missing,” I said, staring at her father, knowing exactly why he had hidden her away from the world.
What lie could the man spin this time?
A diabolical plague? A ravenous fever? Or was it something more imaginative still?
“She isn’t available for the marriage market at this stage, Your Majesty,” the Iron Lord replied, his face set like stone. “She has too many responsibilities to occupy her time.”
“Nonsense,” I replied, unimpressed by the blatant disrespect for my insinuated request. “I insist that she is put on the list and that I meet with her with everyone else. I will not accept any excuse and punishment will effect the family.”
The anger was palpable as it stormed in the man’s eyes.
“As you wish, Your Majesty,” he wisely submitted before the council.
“Good,” I replied, scrawling the woman’s name on the bottom of the page before handing the paper back to my man. “Flentley.”
Dutifully, he took it and disappeared to carry out my wishes without so much as a word of instruction, while the topic of discussion shifted to something less important and yet equally monotonous. But my mind wandered to the plan that had half formulated at the mention of my friend’s mate.
I was a mated man, being forced to marry a woman and procreate.
Not blood-bound like Kaylyr, so I could actually sow my seed. But mated, nonetheless. And to a man, against every law that we had shaping our realm. Laws that I hated, but couldn’t change without backing. Backing I wouldn’t get from the men who sat before me.
Not one of the women my Council proposed would be amicable to my situation. In fact, I was almost positive that that was what they were counting on. A queen that could be wielded like a weapon, to keep me in check and tabs on my bedchamber. It would be a powerful weapon to wield indeed and my entire livelihood would be at risk.
But by taking a wife who was mated herself to a man who legally couldn’t marry her, knowing that they would be in close proximity and that the chances of her straying from my bed as I would stray from hers, that was a risk that could work in our favour.
Of course, I would have to speak to the man I would ultimately be betraying with this act. I’d have to speak to both of them. But I was certain that if all parties were informed, that we had a chance to circumvent this ridiculous strong arming of the law that I was facing.
It made perfect sense in my mind to marry Sharlott Oremord. I just needed to place the chess piece in the right order to win this rigged game that was stacked against me.
By the goddess, did I hope that it worked.
Hooked 😍