IN THE KING'S SOLAR

YES, STILL IN ORODEN

That night, King Drokah Rhakys of Oroden inwardly seethed as his companion, King Rhys Banian of Drakonwell, babbled on and on about how his wife wasn't fulfilling him in the bedding department.

It was times like these that made him grateful he was widowed.

"It is as simple as riding a horse," King Rhys began to explain, even though Drokah hadn't expressed any interest in the topic. "I say bend, you bend. I say shift right, you shift to the bloody right. Even the Supreme sympathises with me regarding my wife. She is dreadfully cold, unmoving, and such a bore in the—"

"I am not in the mood for lewd complaints about your wife, Banian," Drokah cut him off and leaned forward in his seat, both hands folded on the tabletop, his patience wearing thin.

"Where is the letter?"

Rhys opened his mouth to answer, but it seemed the words were having a difficult time escaping from his mouth.

"Well, let us not be hasty, Rhakys." He cleared his throat, tugging at the collar of his gold-embroidered coat as his nerves appeared to eat at him. "At least grant me the courtesy of ending my statement first."

In response to that, Drokah's menacing growl reverberated throughout the small room. His solar was not quite as big as one would imagine for a kingdom such as Oroden—because he hardly entertained others in his private space—but it was soundproof enough to contain classified conversations and little noises from alerting the guards or any eavesdropper.

But that did little to dampen the wizard's temper.

Suddenly in dire need of a drink, he pushed away from the trestle table and strode to where the decanters were perched. Grabbing one, he didn't pause for a moment as he quickly poured some of its contents into a wine glass and consumed it in one gulp, revelling in the feel of the liquid warming his insides.

With a hand at his side and the other still holding on to the empty glass, King Drokah watched the other king try to hide his discomfort, pulling at his neck button every now and then. For a dragonlord, one of the most powerful magic bearers in all of Gregon's Land, King Rhys was the exact opposite of what one would expect.

His appearance, however, spoke of character. His stylishly trimmed ginger-coloured beard and equally groomed hair proved his royal lineage, as well as the expensive coat he wore on top of his royal vest. His mark matched the colour of the ocean, a thin crescent-shaped scar just on the right side of his right brow, very much unlike his daughter's horrifying one.

It was such a shame that his mild good looks didn't suit the coward that lay beneath.

In contrast, Drokah's hair was a startling silver with accompanying eyes of similar hue, and he preferred it to fall on his shoulders as it made him look younger than he actually was. His olive complexion was a clear distinction from the other king's fair one, and his mark, which was a striking lime green, crawled beneath his left eye, comparable to the upward curve of one's lips.

To say he was handsome would be an understatement.

The King of Oroden was exceptionally beautiful, and he was well aware of that.

After the wine had managed to calm him a little, Drokah slowly walked around the furnished table to stand behind Rhys, brandishing his presence in a manner in which he knew would certainly intimidate the older magic bearer. So it came as no surprise when he felt Rhys' edginess before he saw the sweat gliding behind his left ear despite the room being reasonably cold that night.

Drokah would've smiled at his handiwork if he wasn't getting more annoyed by the second.

So much for the worthless wine.

"Banian." Staring at the back of the other king's head, he asked again, this time barely reining in his anger, "Where is the letter?"

Rhys pretended to sound confused by the wizard's constant questioning. "Why, in your possession, of course!"

Drokah bent down to murmur in his ear. "If I had it in my possession, would I be asking you?"

The dragonlord cleared his throat again, shifting his body in the wooden chair he had once appeared comfortably perched on. "Well, I never knew you to be careless, Rha—"

"Damn it, Banian!"

Drokah smashed his glass against the hard surface before Rhys, finally letting his anger get the best of him. Not paying any heed to the broken shards that marred his palm nor the ones that accidentally battered the dragonlord's face, the powerful wizard's eyes began to glow as did the pieces of glass in his right hand.

He knew that the amount of energy backing the blue light that shone from the shards would deeply root Rhys' fear of him. Said dragonlord's entire being slightly shook with apprehension, but he tried to appear as unaffected as possible. The strange thing was, Drokah knew that Rhys had the power to partially subdue him if he wished, but he supposed, for a coward, the thought of looking into his eyes alone was enough to make Rhys rethink his actions.

So for the dragonlord's own safety, he always tended to give the wizard what he wanted than to experience his wrath. To which the Oroden King had no qualms about.

"Who has it?" Drokah gritted out slowly, feeling his eyes burn as power radiated throughout his body. He neared his bloody hand closer to Rhys, the impulse to utter a spell lingering at the tip of his tongue.

One word.

It would only take one word for him to rid himself completely of the blabbering fool.

Unfortunately, that would create an infinite rift between Oroden and Drakonwell, which would eventually lead to war, something Drokah was smart to avoid.

Whether their king was disgraceful or not, Drakonwell was a very powerful kingdom, a mighty fortress even the most powerful wizard wouldn't be able to conquer without it causing him a great loss. Drokah certainly wasn't going to be that wizard, even though the temptation was beginning to exceed his reasoning.

Besides that, Rhys was a huge asset to his plans, so whether it killed him to do so or not, he had to acknowledge the other king's usefulness and treat him with adequate respect.

So with great effort, Drokah stepped away from Rhys and strode quickly towards the decanters once more, pouring himself another drink.

That was when he heard the dragonlord sigh and come clean with a confession.

"Look, I have no idea where the letter is," he started, warily eyeing the still bloody hand that held another glass. "I personally handed it over to my most trusted messenger to deliver it directly to you, but he turned out dead the next morning. I swear, I don't know where the letter passed, but I strongly suspect that my wife," he fidgeted with his button again, "is behind this."

Drokah's eyebrows rose at that, suddenly understanding why Rhys was so nervous in relaying the details of the missing letter in the first place. All because of one alluring queen.

"You think Thyrah is behind this?"

A swift nod was the only response he needed. Drokah straightened his shoulders, his voice low and demanding. "Send her to me, if you will. I want to have a chat with her in private."

Rhys thinned his lips and nodded again, as was the only thing he could do after being threatened in such a way. Without another word spoken or asked pertaining to his wife, the fool not-too-gracefully departed the solar to do Drokah's bidding, perhaps hoping that he didn't come out scarred from whatever would result from the encounter bound to happen. 

The wizard, knowing from experience what he was up against, closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for the Queen of Drakonwell. This continued for a while before a single knock broke him away from his preparation and the guards let in the she-devil herself.

If there was one female who could make him lose control of his mind and senses, it was the one who'd just walked into his solar.

"My lord." Queen Thyrah Banian bowed softly after stepping in with an air of sovereignty, hands folded in front of her skirts and strides short yet graceful.

Her mark was similar to her husband's, but her skin was fairer. Thyrah's black hair was braided and folded neatly behind her head, giving Drokah the instinctive feeling that she had been preparing herself for bed.

And like the fool he was, his body was already starting to react to her presence.

Damn this creature, he thought with disdain as he perused her figure.

If their children hadn't been engaged and if he didn't have to interrogate her, he would have succeeded in avoiding her for another decade. But alas, things didn't seem to be going his way, so he was obliged to do what needed to be done.

A number of seconds passed in silence, and when Drokah refused to respond in greeting, Thyrah raised a black brow and stopped at the end of the trestle table just as the doors closed behind her.

"The hour is late. Why have you sent for me?"

"You know why." Slowly, he set his glass down on the small table that supported his wine, not once breaking contact with those beautiful eyes he knew held so many secrets. "Where is the letter?"

Thyrah's expression remained blank, but her words proved she knew more than she let on.

"It is safe."

Anger bubbled inside him so thick that he almost used his binding spell to instil any amount of fear he could in her. However, unlike her husband, Queen Thyrah didn't wait for Drokah to control his temper. Her own eyes gradually began to glow in defiance as she enacted her ability on the wizard, just as he had expected.

It was insane that her resistance pleased him, and yet it did, far more than it should have.

"You are going to use your worthless power against me?" the King of Oroden taunted in amusement, taking a step towards her. "You know firsthand that it does nothing to me."

"Who knows?" Thyrah raised her delicate chin before adding, "You could have gotten weaker over the years."

"Impossible." Drokah couldn't help the small smile that grazed the edge of his lips. But as quickly as it came, he banished it with a frown. There were more important matters to deal with, and he couldn't risk it all just because he thought she was the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen.

Taking extra steps towards the queen's still frame until he was close enough to touch her, Drokah murmured, almost drowning in her faint, rosy scent, "You will tell me where it is hidden, my lady." He lowered his head close enough to feel her tantalising breath waft across his nose, unable to help himself.

"You will, if you truly want to see your daughter again."