Page 12 of The Last Knight (The Cursed Kingdom #5)

Chapter Nine

E ven the dimness of the castle didn’t diminish the lightness in Gunther’s chest as he observed the proceedings.

Two days since returning from the other realm and still he could feel the softness of Aubrey’s body against him, the feel of her plump lips against his.

Each time he inhaled, he expected the aroma of wildflowers that had clung to her hair.

The woman was like none other he’d ever been with.

Her cinnamon skin, dark brown eyes and full lips could drive a man mad.

She was tall, perhaps five foot eight, a perfect fit against him as he was well over six feet.

Then there was her hair, a riot of soft curls that ranged in colors from golden to rich brown.

Everything about Aubrey was a siren to his senses.

“Do you agree with the punishment,” Kel, one of the generals brought him back to the present.

Two Torant warriors were being punished for the brutal beating of another warrior who, according to the accused, had annoyed them.

“Yes,” Gunther said, not caring what Torants did to one another.

The species seemed eager to find any occasion for fighting and warring.

The accused, who looked as if they’d already been punished, were dragged out and the darkness within him seemed to come alive at the sight.

Thoughts of watching the torture gave him a surge of pleasure at what he was about to witness.

As long as he was able, he wouldn’t succumb.

He looked to the generals, behind them four guards each. “What else?” he growled, annoyed that they pretended what he said was worth anything. They would do whatever they wished regardless of his orders. Unless he interfered, which he didn’t care enough to do.

“Bring in the prisoner,” Joc ordered.

A Yori was half carried in and dropped to the stone floor. He lifted his head and spat at Gunther. No one in the room said anything or stepped forward.

Gunther waved a hand sending the prisoner and the two guards who’d brought him in rolling across the floor, landing in three heaps.

“Why is the Yori here?” He turned his attention back to the generals.

The generals watched the guards stand and once again bring the Yori forward, this time not as close to Gunther.

“He was caught at the border between our realms. Part of a patrol.”

“It is expected. We do the same,” Gunther said in a bored tone. “What made your warriors decide to take him?”

“They were overheard talking about an upcoming attack on our realm.” Came the curt response. “He was brought to be questioned.”

Gunther looked to the prisoner and delved into his mind. Mostly he was thinking about escape and his impending death. When he went deeper, the fact the Yorians were indeed planning to attack became clear.

“Do not kill him. Allow him to heal from his wounds but give him no healing treatments. Food and water, to keep him alive. We may be able to use him as a bargaining chip.”

The prisoner was taken away.

All others were dismissed except for Gunther’s personal guards and the two generals.

Joc spoke first. “We must fortify our borders. Multiply the number of Torants patrolling.”

“Already we have defense stations,” Kel added. “They will be manned at all times. But we need more warriors.”

Gunther gave them a droll look. “In other words, you are doing now what you should have been doing all along.”

The generals barely managed to restrain their anger, their nostrils flaring in annoyance, glares directed past him as they were not stupid enough to disrespect him directly.

“After the battle with Esland and the humans, our numbers were depleted. Master, you have not conjured additional fighters. And although we’ve recruited additional Torants, the numbers are still not where our army should be.”

Gunther stood and walked down the two steps from his throne, which he found pretentious, but nonetheless used to assert his station.

“I do not recall either of you briefing me about the army’s numbers.

As you are aware, I am not Torant and, although living here for many years, I was not privy to such information. ”

The Torants were silent, unable to defend themselves against the truth.

“Go. Return tomorrow with information as to the army’s strength. I wish to know who was killed or is missing. Names of Torants and numbers of the conjured, if they had any.”

“Yes, Master,” both generals agreed in unison. They called him Master, not out of respect, but because they knew he hated it.

The generals turned to go, but he stopped them. “And…stop calling me Master. I am Gunther.”

Phillippe joined Gunther for dinner. The one thing he enjoyed since becoming ruler was the delicious meals. This night, there were thinly sliced beef in gravy, red potatoes and roasted vegetables, accompanied by steaming buttered rolls.

Meliot had brought livestock and other necessities from the other realm so that he could eat as if he were still there. The one and only thing he was grateful to Meliot for.

“How was Meliot’s relationship with the generals?” Gunther asked as he cut into the meat.

The scribe chewed his food before replying. “I would say they tolerated each other. Meliot rarely agreed to anything the generals proposed, often preferring to oversee the warriors himself. Battle plans were his and, as you know, he personally oversaw any questioning and punishment of prisoners.”

“It would seem the generals would relish a ruler who gives them more freedom.” Gunther speared meat and potatoes onto his fork, eating the bite with relish.

“Torants are not the kind to relish anything,” Phillippe replied, matter-of-factly. “Quite the opposite. They thrive in disagreements and chaos.”

Gunther nodded. “So I have noted.”

“They plot to kill you,” Phillippe said in a light tone, as if it was non-consequential. Then again in that realm, it was probably the norm. He already knew the Torants had planned Meliot’s demise regularly.

“I am not surprised,” Gunther replied. “How successful do you suppose they will be?”

Phillippe shrugged. “As long as you are so powerful, it will prove difficult. I tell you because if you die, then I will be of no use to the Torants. They only tolerate me because Meliot protected me and now, you seem to as well.”

The scribe could prove useful, Gunther thought. However, he wasn’t foolish enough to confide in the man or trust him fully. For all he knew, Phillippe could be turned to betray him if tortured by the Torants. It was best to let the man think he trusted him.

“If you know this, why not ask to be returned to the other realm?”

The man shrugged. “You remain quite powerful. There is little that can destroy you. For now.”

For now.

Gunther decided to table the subject of his demise for the moment. “Did Meliot have any plans for the Yorian Realm? I didn’t see anything in the tomes you provided.”

“If he did, he never told me or had anything recorded. I was banned from the room whenever Indros was here. No one except Meliot’s and Indros’ personal guards remained with them.”

Interesting . Meliot’s personal guards were killed the same day that Meliot was dispatched.

“Why do you suppose that was?”

Phillippe placed his silverware down carefully.

“Because they both plotted to destroy one another while pretending to be working towards a union. After one of Indros’ meetings, I entered the room preparing for the briefing to the generals.

It was just Meliot and I. His guard was down.

He blurted that Indros thought him a complete idiot, that he knew the other ruler’s plans to conquer this realm. ”

Gunther wondered why Indros had not taken advantage of Meliot’s weakened powers to strike. “Indros was more powerful than Meliot in the end.”

“Yes, he was. But Meliot used up all his strength, making a show of power during the visits, even if it left him weakened for days after.”

“Were the generals aware of his weakness?”

Phillippe shrugged. “I do not think so. Meliot was a master of deception. His powers came and went. When strong he sent for the generals.”

They ate in silence for a long moment.

“Can you travel to our native realm?” Gunther asked a startled Phillippe, whose eyes widened as he lifted his left wrist. A magically conjured band around it was so tight, it was embedded into the man’s skin.

“I cannot,” Phillippe replied. “I am not sure that, even without this, I know how.”

Gunther studied the bracelet for a moment, then removed it, the object disappearing, leaving a visible indentation in Phillippe’s wrist.

“No need for that,” Gunther said. “If you wish to return, you can. I prefer not to keep captives from our realm against their will.”

“There is nothing for me there,” Phillippe stated, his eyes locked to his arm. “Where would I go?”

Gunther shrugged. “Decide and I will help you get established. The darkness is gaining power in me. Soon I will not be inclined to generosity.”

“I will remain for now. When the time is right, I will leave.” Phillippe’s reluctance was understandable.

Gunther himself wasn’t sure what he’d do if Aubrey was ever able to help him escape permanently.

After centuries away, living in a completely different world, the idea of a normal life seemed a fantasy.

“How was it you ended up here?” Gunther asked the scribe.

For the first time since meeting him, Phillippe’s face hardened. “Defending my family. I gave myself as a slave to Meliot in exchange for him sparing their lives.”

“And yet you never seemed to be resentful of him.”

“I was in the beginning. After many years, I came to accept that he stuck to his part of the bargain. He treated me fairly.”

Gunther shook his head. “Nothing about Meliot was ever fair.”

The man studied him for a long moment. “I do not expect you would share your story.”

Measuring his words, Gunther gave a noncommittal shrug. “Like you, I made a reckless bargain with the devil.”