The King's 11th Wife

Chapter 3: Presence

King Raithen’s heart suddenly skipped a beat before it resumed so fast and hard.

The cold autumn wind blew, separating the colorful leaves from the branches of the trees nearby. Some small pink and orange leaves even dropped in front of him like confetti. But this hadn’t perturbed the king as he watched the lady perform. The sword seemed to be weightless as she moved gracefully and suavely but fiercely. He could very well see she was used to holding such heavy swords that they appeared light.

As he watched the breathtaking woman, his heart pumped hard, and his throat went dry. “Who is she?” he murmured almost huskily, referring to the female sword exhibitionist who was performing non-stop, not noticing his presence. He slowly swallowed and blinked.

The guests were awed and clapped their hands now and then as they watched the flawless performance. No one even noticed the Naim King arrived since the butler failed to announce it. He was like hypnotized as well just like the others. They were obviously taken by the performance of this exquisite woman, whom he couldn’t take his eyes off from.

“A-ah! That’s General Morielle, Master Tallahir’s daughter, my liege,” the butler answered him upon hearing his question.

His head snapped at the servant. “What? That’s her?” His heart suddenly somersaulted, remembering the little child he saved one afternoon.

Is it already a decade ago? he mused, almost unbelieving. He barely noticed that years had passed by that fast. And here she was now, all grown up! But he couldn’t see her as the child he saved then but the ripe and attractive woman she was now.

There was a kind of exhilaration he felt at the moment, something that he hadn’t experienced before.

“We all apologize again for not waiting up for your presence to be welcomed appropriately, my liege. You see, Prevoya Viarren arrived just in time for the celebration.”

“The respectable high priest is here?” he almost growled, emphasizing the second word with detest. “Tallahir invited him over, just as he invited me for the first time in his residence?”

Aelor shifted on his feet with uneasiness.

King Raithen could excuse for the celebration to start even without his presence, since they could’ve thought that he wouldn’t be coming over, since he was never late and Naims valued time as they valued their beliefs. But to invite the high priest at the same time as he, it was like inviting a hurricane to one’s home. He hated the sixty-five-year-old high priest for as long as he could remember.

“Uh… He didn’t invite Prevoya Viarren, my liege. It was General Morielle who did. She invited the high priest before she was informed that you’ve been invited by her father. She didn’t expect it either, since it is uncommon to invite the King in one’s humble abode. But this, this was different. Master Tallahir thought it would be an honor since his daughter has given him honor as well.”

“What? She invited him?” he bellowed upon hearing the reason.

Now it was time for the other guests to notice his presence. His eyes swept the yard. All the guests stood up as though they were all pulled from their seats at the same time.

“Y-you see, she is somehow close to the high priest since she was little, my liege. She used to go to the temple to look for her parents and pray,” Aelor continued to defend his employers, somehow.

King Raithen’s eyes narrowed as he looked again at the head servant, and Tallahir dashed to his side and greeted him.

“My apologies for not meeting you, my liege!” Tallahir bowed and apologized profusely. “I thought you weren’t coming, but I still did have Aelor wait up for you just in case you arrived or a messenger comes to deliver your word if you couldn’t make it. I deserve punishment.” His trusted head keeper (Khran) couldn’t meet his eyes.

“But of course, Prevoya Viarren is here, so your presence to greet me at the entrance was missed. You can’t let him wait around, too. It’s going to be disrespectful for the high priest. Funny, the Naims believe that it will be an ill omen for the entire family if his presence is insulted as it means they disrespect and insult the gods, too. It would thus give the family misfortunes. And that’s leith cr*p!” the agnostic king expressed with such outrage.

Aelor winced while Tallahir just kept his head slightly bowed. They did know King Raithen hated their Naim religion for a reason no one knew about, but he wasn’t this vocal as now. He used to merely keep it to himself, but he just snapped at the moment for some reason. Nonetheless, the guests also bowed their heads, so the music was halted as soon as he was heard the first time. Hence, they all heard his cussing.

King Raithen’s eyes were back on Morielle, who stopped performing as well. The swords were still in her hands, and she regarded him with emotionless face as their gazes collided. His heart was bumped by something that it beat faster once again. It got him confused and curious at the same time. Her effect on him was too strong that he did not want to analyze it yet, given that Prevoya Viarren sauntered toward him to give his greetings to him as well.

The high priest wore a long teal robe with long sleeves, and its hem touched the ground, hiding his booted feet. The robe was distinctive from the lower ranked priests by the chain of green tree embroidery near the hem of his robe.

The priest was tall, almost as tall as his six feet and two inches height. Prevoya Viarren though was thin unlike he who had a well-built body, a result to everyday training.

He then stared at the oval face and kind dark eyes of the high priest. The latter’s long hair was white and straight down his back swayed a bit when the breeze blew softly, whereas his long undercut past-shoulder hair was caught in a high ponytail.

Prevoya Viarren bowed to King Raithen slowly, while the King’s keepers quickly stepped forward, alert.

“Good evening, my liege,” greeted Prevoya Viarren.

“Prevoya Viarren,” he acknowledged in a clipped tone, nose raised up in the air and hands folded behind him.

“Had I known you’d come, I would have excused myself,” the older Naim proceeded. “And yet, I couldn’t help myself but congratulate General Morielle for her new role in your kingdom. After all, the Yet’hoda, your Naim army, is now penetrated by a lady warrior, who’s actually truly capable and deserving. That is why I bless her on her special day. Surely you don’t mind it, do you, my liege?”

King Raithen would have blasted the high priest with some kind of retort if the woman in question had not slowly sashayed her way to their group. Aelor and the other servants stepped back to give them more room.

“My apologies for the late greetings, Vacushta (Your Majesty).” Her stunning dark blue eyes met his greenish gray ones for a moment, before she dropped them to his booted feet, almost shy.

No, she isn’t shy, his mind deduced. She just deliberately does it for a reason. Out of respect perhaps?

He could not read her, unlike other women. He almost could not breathe at her nearness, as she stepped closer to him—more than the others that faced him, about three meters away. She was now less than a meter away from him, and her feminine, irresistible and unique floral scent reached up to his straight nose.

His keepers, mainly Rhyphas and another one, pulled their swords to bar General Morielle’s further approach. She still had her sharp swords in her hands after all, which he noticed that she gripped tighter as if she was ready to strike.

To strike me or what? he asked himself, staring at her beautiful face with curiosity and suppressed awe.