The King's 11th Wife

Chapter 6: Taken In

Little Morielle gasped, ducked and plunged the stick in the ragha’s stomach. With all her little might, she buried it deeper and pulled in a slicing motion. The animal groaned in pain before it hit the ground. Its blood spurted to her face and ran down her small hand, wrist and arm.

Morielle, however, did not waste time to see if it was still alive or already dead. She continued to run in the dark to flee, afraid that the Naims or other wild animals were after her. Bushes scratched her arms and face, even her legs. Her feet already hurt and wounded. But these did not stop her from running toward the border between the two kingdoms. She just knew she’d be safe once she had crossed it.

Thinking that she had a cloth around her shoulder, she took it off before she finally crossed the border, without the guards seeing her. It was through the forest anyway, so it was easy for her to sneak through the trees and tall bushes. A ten-year-old Reoc like her could easily do it.

But her throat was already dry. She was parched as she had been running for a long while, not knowing for how long. Her heart felt like it was going to burst. She wheezed and saw black spots in her vision. But she kept running.

Her wound bled again, and she knew it was bad. She just prayed to the Orabean gods that she could endure more of this pain. She then heard the sound of the river. She thought of going there, thinking that she would be fine if she could only drink some water.

She knelt down on the bank of the river upon arriving there. The cool water tasted fresh and sweet. She was still breathless from her predicament, and she grimaced as the wound in her back hurt even more. She could feel her warm blood already soaking her clothing. In spite of what she felt, she stood up to continue her plight but she swayed.

No, please… I’m not… going to die. Oh… Orabean gods! Please… help… me…

Her vision completely became pitch black as she felt herself falling to the ground.

***

The ten-year-old girl slowly opened her dark blue eyes. It was hazy at first despite the light she perceived, but it became clearer as moments passed by.

“Oh, she’s awake, Master Tallahir!” A quiet, calm male voice spoke.

In just a second, someone hovered close to her, peering down at her. “Huh! So, this little Naim is alive after all.” The owner of the gruff voice stated.

Upon hearing the word “Naim,” Morielle quickly sat up and scurried in the corner of the bed that was pushed to the wall. Her heart almost leapt out of her chest. She saw two almost gigantic males in the room.

She quickly scanned it. The room was neat with beautiful light blue curtains that covered the window to her left. The room was quite large, perhaps twice the size of their own abode back in Reocht. She remembered their houses were burned to the ground, even the palaces of the royals.

Screams of agony came back to her. Her parents and uncles and friends were shot by arrows, mutilated and burned as well. She was the only one who successfully fled from the deadly mayhem, as she was urged by her uncle to run.

From hunting wild animals for meat and fur, they were on their way to their respective homes when the attacks began. She saw how everyone dear to her died before her innocent eyes. She had no idea why the Reocs were annihilated. They didn’t do anything bad, did they? At least, not her family. They lived peacefully near the mountain and forest. They paid to the royals what they ought to pay, a small percentage from their income, and they didn’t break any laws, although she did practice a little of black magic, which her wizard uncle taught her  just in case she needed it in the future. But neither of them harmed anyone. Her uncle always reminded her that it was no good.

“But why did you teach me then?” her innocent question.

“You can use it to defend yourself or you can use it to identify if you’re being harmed,” his answer.

Now Morielle let out a little sob, as her young heart mourned for her losses.

“P-please, don’t kill me!” she whispered in a hoarse voice, misty eyes pleading to the two Naims near the bed. She realized her throat was so dry that she could barely swallow some spit.

The thinner one slowly approached her with a small smile on his pale lips. “I’m Aelor, the head servant of this house. This is my employer, Master Tallahir. He’s the head of the saighs, King Raithen’s personal elite warriors and keepers.”

Morielle stopped sobbing as she stared at the good-looking Naim with beige eyes. He wore a gray uniform that had built-in body armor. It told her he was indeed a warrior just by the look of it. But his uniform was different from those Naim soldiers that killed her family and friends. They had indigo-colored uniform and armor.

“Worry not, child. You’re safe here,” Aelor added gently and gave her a glass of water, which she reluctantly accepted.

“What shall we call you, child?” Master Tallahir asked her.

She blinked after swallowing half of the liquid. It did soothe her parched throat. “M-Morielle.” She thought that there was no harm in using her real name since the Reocs were dead. Sadly. No one would be able to recognize her and tell these Naims that she was actually a Reoc.

“Morielle.” Master Tallahir scoffed a little. “It stands for ‘strong flower,’ doesn’t it?” The yellowish brown color of his eyes danced while regarding her.

Morielle nodded slowly. “M-my father g-gave me t-that name,” she answered, averting her eyes and finished the water.

Aelor glanced at his master before taking the glass from her small hand. “Where are your parents, child?”

“I-I don’t know… I d-don’t remember well…”

The two males exchanged glances again.

“You don’t remember why you were at the river?” Master Tallahir’s eyes bored into hers, which made her heart beat faster.

No, I won’t tell him why I was there! He might suspect something, she thought.

She shook her head. “B-but I d-do remember that a… a ragha w-was after me.”

“Can’t you tell us where you live at least? We can go there. Maybe we can find your parents at your home,” the master of the house proposed.

She shook her head again. I have no more home because you burned it down! And you, Naims, killed my family! I vow that I will take my revenge on all of you and your King!

She swallowed, casting her eyes down. “N-no… I-I can’t remember. I-I am so s-sorry, Master Tallahir,” she whispered, touching her head.

Without moving her head up, her downcast eyes raised to steal a glimpse of the two Naims that faced each other as if having a telepathic communication. She immediately looked down when Tallahir’s head moved to look at her again.

“Well, then… until we find your parents, you’re going to be the daughter of this house, Morielle,” Tallahir decided.

Morielle’s eyes went round as she looked up at him. “B-but, M-Master Tallahir…” she muttered in a low tone.

“No, you don’t impose, I promise you that. And… you may call me ‘Father’ from now on.”

Morielle’s heart pumped harder. “F-Father…?”

But her young mind was drawn to her real and biological father, from whom she inherited his eye color, lips and nose. She remembered his loving smile, his warm embrace, his contagious laughter and affectionate nature. Then, this memory was now fading away as Tallahir’s face appeared.

“Father,” she whispered again, looking at the good-looking Naim, the head of the saighs.

“Well, little mistress… have a rest after your meal. You may stay here until you feel much better, all right?” Aelor’s kind voice sailed in the room.