The King's 11th Wife

Chapter 2: Empty No More

King Raithen’s brows were deeply furrowed as he regarded his two sons with deep annoyance. He was supposed to be out of the fortress over half an hour ago, but his upset second wife, Tazzen, reported that his two ten-year-old sons were having a fight at the archery grounds, and no one could separate them.

“Have their keepers drag them in the family room!” his order to the thin Tazzen, who quickly followed. She was his wife of fifteen years.

And now, here they were in the spacious family room on the second floor of the huge castle that had twelve stories. It was mainly inhabited by him and a few of his ten wives. His other wives who wanted to live outside the castle had their own smaller palaces near the left and right wings. Meanwhile, the back of the castle was a huge training ground with a secret garden that no one knew about but King Raithen himself. The ones who created it were executed by his mother’s order when she was still alive, without his or his sister’s knowledge.

The garden was actually his haven, where he could relax and whenever he wanted to be alone. It was a memory of his mother and younger sister, who died about decades apart, after the death of his father when he was only fourteen, and he had to take over the throne then, with his mother’s guidance.

The three of them used to go to the garden secretly. The entrance was connected to their respective rooms, and the garden itself could be a hiding place just in case. Not only that, it could also be a route for escape going outside the fortress. Until now, no one was allowed to enter his sister’s and his mother’s rooms, which were adjoined to his on the third floor. None of his wives or children was also allowed on the said floor. In fact, there were guards assigned on the third floor as well. The entire third floor was his, while he gave free rein to every family member on other floors of the castle. He didn’t care whether or not they stayed in the same room.

King Raithen now paced slowly in front of his two sons, who had their dark blond heads bowed. He could very well see the smudges of red blood on their faces and hands. On the other hand, their respective mothers—Tazzen and Gossoni—stood quietly in a corner, near the huge inverted triangle window that was made of glass.

“This isn’t the first time you’re fighting, but why again? What’s wrong with you two, Chesran, Zenry?” King Raithen interrogated them.

His two oldest sons looked like him, except for the eye and skin colors that they inherited from their respective mothers. Zenry had dark brown eyes and olive skin from his wife of fourteen years, Gossoni, while Chesran had black eyes and brown skin from Tazzen.

The boys started to answer him at the same time, blaming each other.

“I told Zenry to wait for his turn. He couldn’t! I was just—”

“Chesran is supposed to be done by that hour. I didn’t—”

King Raithen’s eyes narrowed. “Enough! I don’t have time for this childish and endless bickering of yours. You two are old enough! As a punishment, you aren’t going to sleep tonight. You both go to the archery grounds together, and train together ‘til the morning comes. And if I hear you’re fighting again, you’ll both go to the dungeon next time. Understood?”

The two boys almost shuddered when they heard the word dungeon, where their father and his saighs usually torture their enemies. They certainly wouldn’t want to go there as it could only mean one thing.

They both knew his threat was real this time. But could they help it if they just couldn’t stand each other? But for now, they had to stay up all night.

King Raithen blew his face and held the cheek of his sons. “You are my oldest sons, and I’m proud of you both, all right? You and your siblings, I care for you all equally. There is nothing to fight over. All we have in this fortress are all yours, equally.” His eyes bored into each of theirs and lightly slapped their cheeks, to prove his point. Then, he embraced them both and patted their backs. “Now, go. Don’t upset your mothers, will you? I hate it when they come to me crying!”

His two sons swallowed and nodded. Their keepers followed when his sons exited the room, while his two wives barred his way when he was about to leave as well.

“What now? I’m already late for Tallahir’s daughter’s birthday celebration!”

They both smiled at him.

“Can we go with you outside the fortress?” they both asked. There was excitement in their eyes, as though they already forgot about the commotion their sons just created.

His greenish gray eyes narrowed. “Don’t tell me having your sons fight was a way for you to have a reason to see me and ask me this?”

They both shook their heads quickly. “No! Not at all. They did it on their own!” they said in unison as if they rehearsed it well.

Sometimes, he had no idea if his wives were working against him or not. And most of the time, he had no idea if his wives were plotting something behind his back. He really paid no attention to them. He had a new wife just last year, his tenth, but he only bedded Adrae once, on the night of their marriage out of duty. He felt no love for all of them, as they were either his family’s or advisers’ choice to strengthen his reign, but he was well aware that they were all in love with him. He should feel lucky and happy, but for some reason, he wasn’t. He felt empty inside instead.

***

The royal closed carriage pulled by two leith was driven by a young coachman. It stopped in front of Tallahir’s three-story home that was brightly lit with crystal lanterns of different colors—gold, red, blue and green. The house was made of sturdy bricks painted in yellow, decorated with some precious red and orange stones. Its gable roof was gold and looked domineering. The abode was far from its neighbors, with occasional trees on the sides of the road.

The roads all over the kingdom were made of flat red rocks, so the carriage ride was always smooth. Even though the fortress was a day away by foot, it was only a five-minute run by leith.

The gate was open, with four guards in front of it. One stepped closer to greet and open the carriage door for him, and his keepers that rode on their respective leith jumped down to follow him. Some of Tallahir’s servants quickly greeted him as they immediately spotted his kingly shiny robe of black color with the Naim royal emblem of a fierce mythical blue creature called friccanda—a three-horned dragon with three sharp tails—neatly embroidered in the lower part of his clothing. The servants then took care of the beasts, leading them to the stable, through the right wide pathway.

Tallahir’s middle-aged head servant, Aelor, in a green robe uniform bowed to him. He obviously waited for him to come.

“My liege, welcome! Master Tallahir and Young Mistress Morielle convey their apologies as they are now entertaining their guests inside the compound. It’s our great honor to have you here tonight. Let me escort you where the banquet is.” His hand motioned to let him enter the beautiful home of his head keeper of twelve years.

He nodded, though slightly disappointed that he came late, so the host and hostess weren’t there to welcome him.

He could hear the music playing when they crossed the spotless threshold. Then, he saw the circular table arrangement at the vast backyard lawn. The guests were quiet as a lone performance started, with drums beating in a perfect rhythm.

King Raithen stopped a few meters away to watch the beautiful orange-haired woman, who moved gracefully at the center with a long sword in each hand.