The King's 11th Wife

Chapter 1: Haunted By The Vow

Young Morielle ran for her life, crying and groaning as the sharp arrow assaulted her soft flesh. It was good that it was not buried deep or that it hadn’t hit her where it would definitely kill her. She hid behind the tree and reached for the arrow to remove it. She whimpered when it was taken off her at last. Then, she heaved and dropped the arrow. She could feel the burning pain of that wound, praying to the gods there was no poison in the arrow.

She looked behind her, peeking from behind the tree she was hiding. She would remember that face, the one who shot the arrow and those others that killed her friends and especially her family. The plump tears that squeezed out of her dark blue eyes rolled down her small dirtied cheeks.

I’m going to kill you all someday!

She felt the sharp and stinging pain of the wound in her shoulder that she grimaced.

“Where’s that Reoc girl?” One Naim saighs on a leith asked.

“I saw her fall back in the forest. She must be eaten by some wild animals by now when they catch a whiff of her blood,” came the answer of the one who shot her. His leith’s legs raised up and put them down alternately like marching in place.

Yes, she did fall back there, but she was here now. She was going straight to the border to save herself. Once there, she just hoped someone would find her and help her, not knowing she was a Reoc. Good that she put on the Naim robe beneath her Reoc one.

The Naim robe was a prank, given to her by her prankster uncle. It was a birthday present to her since she wanted a new robe. She was disappointed to be given such a type of clothing, but she did try it on. It was a bit thick, warm and comfortable, so she just put on her old Reoc robe over it.

Remembering it, she took off her Reoc robe, and with her child strength, she tried hard to tear it apart and wrapped it around her left shoulder to at least apply pressure on her wound to stop it from bleeding. Her father taught her this, and she’d seen enough of her uncles being hurt while hunting doing this.

She sneaked when it was already dark that even the beasts of the enemies wouldn’t notice her plight. She ran blindly in the darkness. She tripped countless times. Her bare feet were already sore and wounded, but she didn’t stop.

She gasped when she heard an animal growl. And then, she continued to run. There was no way she’d stay there and wait for the fierce animal to come to her and make her its dinner. She could even hear it coming after her. Now when she looked over her shoulder, she saw the vicious nocturnal animal that looked like a tiger but with a fur that glowed green, while its eyes shone red. Its white fangs bragged its strength as the animal opened its wide mouth.

A ragha! her mind exclaimed. Her uncles hunted some before, and she just knew where their weakness was.

“Just come to me, you ragha!” she murmured, showing the animal she was not afraid even though her heart quivered.

She slowly frisked for something to stab it with. In the darkness, she felt the stem of the shrub that was twice fatter than her little finger, enough to make it a weapon, so she broke it from the plant. At the same time, the ragha jumped to attack her.

***

Morielle gasped, sitting bolt upright in her bed, panting. Beads of sweat scattered on her forehead, and her face was damp as well. That childhood memory appeared in her dreams again. Grimacing, she got up from her soft and huge bed that was covered by blue and white cotton sheets.

It was already morning, and her adoptive father Tallahir told her last night she’d celebrate her twentieth birthday tonight. It would be a double celebration since she was given a new rank yesterday. She was now the youngest general—and the only female at that. Her father was so proud of her. She was happy that he was.

After doing her ritual in the bathroom, she put on a blue dress robe and checked her perfect orange bun. Her creamy skin glowed with health as she took a glimpse of herself in the whole-body mirror in her spacious bathroom, which had light blue walls, emboss-painted with white lilies that had blue star-shaped leaves.

She went downstairs of their three-story abode to join her father at breakfast. She was sure he was already waiting for her.

Tallahir’s beige eyes regarded her well as she descended the concrete stairs, holding the gold banister. His thin pale lips lifted into a smile when she greeted him. Today, he wore his gray robes as usual, and his undercut shoulder-length brown hair was caught in a hair tie at the nape, emphasizing his slightly squared jaw. He looked so muscular and tall and confident. She always admired how he carried himself. Plus, he smelled good like citrus mixed with cool spices, refreshing to the nose.

“By the way, we have a special guest tonight, Morielle. You can perform a sword exhibition, can’t you?”

She stopped walking beside him at the wide hall going to the dining room. She didn’t expect him to request such as this.

The round window to their right let the sunrays stream in. Outside, the autumn air was crisp, as the wind swayed the branches of the colorful trees that boasted the lively colors of gold, magenta, pink, red and orange.

“What? You didn’t tell me we have a special guest, Father,” she commented with furrowed brows.

He shrugged. “I thought it would be an honor for us, given that you’re already in that rank and you have the privilege to see the King at close range.” He carelessly gestured a hand in the air and sauntered forward.

Morielle’s eyes went round when she heard and caught up with her father. “The King? King Raithen’s coming?”

“Yes, I invited him for the first time in this abode. Why not? I am proud of you, so I can just flaunt you to him.”

Her jaw slackened as she blinked. Her heart also pounded so hard against her chest. She was excited, and she anticipated this event tonight. It had been a decade since she wanted to see King Raithen in person and at close range.

So that she could kill him.