Lokir stepped forward and rapped on the wooden door. “I’m here with Prince Darian.”
The next moment Gertrude, queen’s servant, opened the door and the prince found himself in a small room with a stone table in its center. The pale and lifeless body of King was located on it. Meanwhile Narim, Braga and Nymira were around. His Mother was pale in face, dressed in black dress, hair loose.
“I’m glad you’re still alive,” the queen said briefly. The image from the dream reappeared before his eyes, and he turned away, staring at the cold dead body of the bearded king.
“What happened?” he asked his voice barely above a whisper. “Who did this?”
“I wish someone knew… Perhaps it’s done by our very spy that we still unable to find.” Hastly said Braga. “And look… The king is dead know. I just can’t believe it”
“It was your job to guard him, baldhead!” snapped Lokir.
“He was with queen” Braga glanced at her and immediately regretted what he had said. “”My men saw an unknown man on the wall last night. I am sure the murderer has already fled, and it is the work of barbarians.”
“There is no time for quarrels,” Narim wheezed with his aged voice, his face wrinkled with concern. “The kingdom cannot afford to be without a ruler. We must decide who will now replace the king.”
“Nómé will take his place,” Nymira declared confidently.
“If he is still alive, Queen,” Narim said, his voice carrying a note of caution.
“I am sure my son is alive. Send a pigeon with a letter.” Nymira replied.
Lokir coughed, drawing Nymira’s attention. “I must remind you of the rules, my lady,” he said carefully. “If Nome does not reply to the letter within half a month, then…”
“Darian will be king.” Nymira finished for him, cutting him off abruptly. “I know, Lokir. In the meantime, I want you and Narim to take over the governing functions of our king.”
“Can’t I do that?” Darian asked.
“As long as you’re not king, boy, no,” Lokir said firmly.
“The assassin may target you as well, Darian,” Narim added gravely. “And you may suffer the same fate as our king.” He lightly kicked the king’s body with his stick, and Darian caught a whiff of persistent corpse odor. “You must take care of your own safety.”
“I need to leave the castle,” said the queen again, sighing, her breasts flirtatiously lifted. “It is too dangerous here now.”
Braga, who had been standing quietly in the background, stepped forward. “I will protect you, my lady. I promise.”
Nymira fixed him with a steely gaze. “Just as you protected my husband?”
Darian’s mind raced as he contemplated the possibility of his mother leaving the castle. He couldn’t allow it. Everything he had worked towards would be for naught if she left.
“You can’t go,” Darian retorted sharply, his eyes locked on his mother.
“And why is that? Tartuf and I would be safer elsewhere.”
“Because that’s exactly what they want. Leave the castle and you’ll be attacked on the royal highway, ambushed by those who seek to harm us. The castle, despite what happened, is still the safest place for us.”
The queen squinted as she looked at her son, pulling her head away as if she were seriously considering his warning.
“I think Darian is right, my lady,” Narim interjected, stepping closer to the queen.
“As much as I hate to say it, I agree with the prince. I will ensure your safety within the castle walls.” Braga nodded in agreement
“Then it is settled. You stay with me, mother,” Darian declared firmly, his eyes flickering to Lokir, who had been silently listening to their conversation. “Now I better go,” he muttered, eager to escape the smell of death that still lingered in the air.
As he began to walk away, Darian heard a voice behind him, taunting him. “Somehow he’s not too upset by the king’s death,” the voice sneered, probably belonging to Braga.
“That’s because he’s about to become king, you dickhead,” Lokir snapped, his voice filled with contempt. “If I were him, I would jump for joy.” Darian ignored the jibe, feeling a heavy weight settle on his shoulders
===
The next day, Darian arrived at the royal baths in the early morning, preparing for funerals. The steam from the hot water filled the room as servants bustled about, preparing the Queen for her bath. Darian watched as Nimira changed behind a screen, and then tossed a large, soft towel around herself. As the servants worked to fix her unruly hair, Nymira caught sight of Darian’s reflection in the mirror.
“Come to take a bath, Darian? Come back later, I’m here today,” she said, with a wry smile.
Darian chuckled softly, shaking his head. “No, Queen. I just came to see how you are”
Nymira sighed. “I am utterly exhausted by everything that has been happening in the castle. I do not know who is a friend and who is an enemy, and my husband, our king, has been killed. And my eldest son is nowhere to be found.”
Darian stepped closer to Nymira, and the servants instinctively stepped back. “You can trust me, Queen. I will protect you until Nome arrives.”
For a moment, they stood there in silence, the steam from the baths enveloping them. Darian’s gaze drifted down to his mother’s collarbones, visible above the towel she had draped around herself He couldn’t resist running his fingers over the soft, spotted skin, marveling at how delicate she seemed in that moment. His fingers tracing the contours of her collarbones as he worked his way down to her soft, spotted skin. Nymira closed her eyes, relishing the comforting touch of her son.
“We will get through this, Mother. I promise you,” Darian said, his voice a low whisper. His hands slowly moved lower and lower, reaching down to the towel and dipping underneath it. He felt a thrill course through him as her nipples hardened beneath the towel, a sure sign that she was enjoying his touch, her neck slightly trembered, and wondered if it was from the cold or from something else entirely. The air between them felt electric, charged with unspoken desire.
“Yes… Darian,” she moaned.
Darian hesitated for a moment before continuing. “You know, I still intend to do my father’s last will.”
“Last will?” Nymira stoped his touch and half turned around, her gray eyes wide with surprise with eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
“To marry you,” Darian whispered, making sure that the servants behind him couldn’t hear. “And it’s the only way I can protect you.”
For a moment, Nymira didn’t know what to say. Then she saw the determination in her son’s eyes and realized what he was offering her. With a deep breath, she turned back to the mirror and ran a comb through her hair, attempting to maintain a sense of composure despite the sudden rush of emotions.
“I don’t think I quite understand you,” she said finally. “Or maybe I don’t want to. You can’t marry me, Darian. You’re my son, and I’m your mother. Let’s leave it at that. I cannot go against the laws of nature and society…”
Darian’s face remained impassive. “We can keep it a secret. No one has to know. As for our relationship, it will remain unchanged. We will continue to love and care for each other as we always have. And as for the people…they don’t need to know the details of our private lives. All they need to know is that their queen is safe and protected.”
Nymira took a deep breath, her voice trembling slightly. “It’s not just about keeping it a secret. I love you, Darian, but we cannot marry. It’s just not possible. That’s it. When Nome returns, everything is going to be as it was before… Now leave me. Right now I intend to have a bath if you haven’t noticed.”
As the words left her mouth, Nymira’s heart ached with sadness. She had never imagined that her son would express such feelings for her, and the idea of marrying him…
Darian’s couldn’t hide his dissapointment, but he also comprehended her response. He bowed respectfully and turned to leave.
“Wait,” Nymira called out softly. “I’m flattered by your proposal, Darian, truly. But you must understand that it’s impossible. I appreciate your love for me, but you and I, we share a special bond as mother and son, but that’s where it ends. We can’t let our feelings get in the way of our duties to the kingdom and our people. Promise me you won’t speak of this again.”
Darian nodded, a sense of resignation settling over him. “I promise”
CHAPTER 8. COUNSELORS APPROVE
With his problems, Darian came to someone he had never expected to ask for advice: Lokir.
As he entered the man’s cabinet, the overpowering smell of garlic and socks hit him like a wall. Despite the low ceiling, the room felt cluttered with various scrolls and books scattered haphazardly across the table, the floor, and even under the table. It gave an accurate impression of what kind of man Lokir was: disorganized, but incredibly knowledgeable.
Without a king he and Narim had a lot of stuff to do so Darian didn’t want to bother counselor for too long. But as he was about to speak, a small balding man in black stepped out of the room, barely bowing to Darian.
“How may I help?” Lokir appeared from behind a towering stack of books, picking up some scrolls from the floor.
“I have a serious topic to discuss”
I’m all ears,” Lokir said, throwing up his hands. Something in his voice cracked with mockery. “You may have a seat, if you wish.”
Darian sat down on the uncomfortable little chair, trying to ignore the scattered papers that Lokir had carelessly thrown around them..
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