King Stefan didn’t need magic to conquer the Eastern Meadows, 82% of the Meadow Region. He only needed his hunger for revenge to invigorate him. When the War King came for him the first time, Stefan was pierced straight into the heart. Stefan’s soul had made it all the way to Vanar when it was aggressively pulled back towards his body. Only days after his supposed death, Stefan plundered the region into total darkness. With the Heart of the Undead, he became the Immortal Conqueror. Through blood and war, he demolished armies and foes. Cold, dark days persisted for what felt like eternity. One by one, the once great cities belonging to the Meadow Gods fell to him. Prophexia. Sonusa. Gardenia. Bellum. A land of lushful gardens, prophetic ponds, and whispering forests became His.
The Meadow War was His Victory.
***
The palace was eerily quiet. After the spectacle in the Grand Hall, everyone dispersed to their own quarters. Prince Mel decided to catch up on rest, while the king decided to head to the library on the third level.
The hallway smelled of strong spice and was poorly lit.
With every step, Stefan’s hand grazed the wall, lightly brushing the faded wallpaper of white doves. Rosar’s choosing.
“Doves are sacred to Diné. They possess the Goddess’ Eye.” She said passionately.
“If they possess the Eye, what is your purpose?” He joked back.
Since becoming king, these walls had seen and heard almost everything. The laughs. The fights. The secrets.
When he reached the library’s door, his fingertips lingered for a second over the wallpaper. He tried to stifle a sob before the sound of a crash caught his attention.
It was coming from inside the library.
Stefan aggressively swung the door open and his eyes immediately found Olara.
“Olara!” He shouted.
The woman jumped, nearly dropping the book she was holding.
“Stefan.” Olara yelped, then smoothed her dress out.
Stefan slowly closed the door behind him. “It’s Your Majesty.”
Olara shook her head with a smile. “Forgive me, Your Majesty.”
The woman was nestled between two towering bookshelves. Above her was a dim, flickering light that cast a warm glow over her. Its warmth illuminated her high cheekbones and bronze nose, making her almost ethereal.
“You love to read.” He said, once he reached her.
He eyed the woman with curiosity.
Olara nodded. “I do. It kills time.”
“Ah. A past time.” Stefan responded, his eyes never leaving the woman.
Olara nodded again.
“What did you find then?”
Olara’s gaze darted to the king's mouth.
The king’s lips were a soft pink, the opposite of her warm brown lips.
Olara kissed those lips before.
“Frost.” She answered finally, gaze returned to his face. “I’m reading Frost.”
Stefan laughed. “Out of all the books, you chose a book about winter.”
Olara frowned. “An old friend once told me, Winter represents Death’s inevitability.”
“Death’s inevitability?”
Olara inched closer to the king. “Every Winter, the dormant spirit of Death returns from the Dreamworld, white shovel in hand, and destroys the fruits of his siblings’ labour. Inevitable death, he brings. The snow falls, the waters freeze, frost builds. Every cycle, Death is inevitable. Frost, Death, the true and only, Arbiter of Life.”
Olara’s pulse was suddenly racing.
The air was suddenly thick, and the once flickering light above was no longer working.
Stefan folded his arms across his chest. “A Lady of Judgement acquainted with the words of Death. I’m impressed.”
Olara began smiling.
“I’m not sure it’ll work on my son, however.” Stefan added.
“Let me worry about your son.” She purred.
The tension was suddenly palpable.
He doesn’t remember. Olara thought to herself. He doesn’t remember I saved him.
“Why can’t I hear your heart beating?” Stefan said suddenly, snapping Olara out of her thoughts.
Olara took a small step back, her back slightly grazing the bookshelf behind her.
“I’m sorry?”
Stefan took a step forward. “I don’t hear your heart.”
Olara lifted a hand to brush a loose hair strand behind her ear.
“Well I’m alive.” She chuckled.
Stefan glanced down towards her chest where a white bow covered where her heart should be underneath.
“Try again, Your Majesty.” She added, no longer laughing.
A fast, pounding drum suddenly emerged. Uniquely fast, though.
“It’s too fast.” He responded quickly, still staring at where the bow was pinned. “Way too fast.”
Olara clasped her hands behind her back.
“Try again.” She murmured, much slower this time.
After a few fast beats, the fast drum was replaced with a much more delicate drum.
But Stefan wasn’t satisfied.
Something was off. He thought to himself.
He lifted his head with a frown, quickly finding Olara’s warm eyes.
“A dead man walking telling me about my own heart.” Olara laughed. “The irony.”
Stefan’s jaw clenched.
“I am no man.” He said through gritted teeth.
But Olara wasn’t fazed.
The young woman took in her bottom lip before closing the gap between the two.
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“And I’m no ordinary woman.” She whispered, just mere inches from his mouth.
Stefan’s left hand twitched.
His lips parted.
“Your mother, Lady Ret, will be unhappy with you.” He said slowly.
His eyes roamed the woman's face standing before him, taking in everything he could memorize. Her tiny freckles, twenty eight of them, splattered across her cheeks and nose. Her eyes, a mixing hue of gold and hazel.
“And why would she be unhappy?”
“You know why.” Stefan responded quickly. “I’m too old for you, Olara.”
A wide grin slowly broke across Olara’s face. “Sure.”
Before Stefan could ask what Olara meant, they were interrupted by the sound of the front door.
The two broke apart quickly.
“Your Majesty.” A gruff voice announced. It was Lord Flip.
The elder lord's eyes bounced between the two, lingering on Olara for a long moment, before he cleared his throat. “Lady Cara requests you in the Council's Room.”
Stefan tightened his robe around his waist.
“Olara, enjoy the library.” He said, not meeting her eyes before quickly departing.
***
The Council’s Room was located on the first level. It was the room with the best lighting. Inside, paintings of the ones came before hung on barren black painted walls. In the center, a round table stood, holding a vase of wilting black roses.
Lady Cara, a member of the King’s Council, stood just beneath the hanging crystallized chandelier. She was wearing a white blouse with ruffled cuffs and a long black skirt. Her wavy locks were pulled back in a low bun, revealing pearl earrings attached to her ears.
“My favorite lady.” Stefan purred as he entered.
The young lady performed a graceful curtsey for the king. “Your Majesty.”
Stefan waved her off. “No one’s here. No need for formal pleasantries.”
When he reached Cara, he pulled her in by the waist and squeezed her tightly.
“Oh.” Cara yelped, eyes wide. “You missed me, I see.”
“Of course, I missed you.”
For nineteen years, Cara has been a member of the king's council. Succeeding her father, Cara easily won the trust of Stefan with not just her wits and beauty but also her skill in reconnaissance.
Cara placed a quick kiss on his lips. “Do you want to know what I found?
Stefan pulled her closer. “Enlighten me.”
“Mesyla is coming down from the Mountains.”
Stefan frowned.
His grip around her waist slightly faltered.
“What are you talking about? Why am I just now hearing about this?”
“A Makarian Witch from East Gard informed me she was contacted by the Queen.”
Stefan raised his eyebrows.
“She’s having trouble conceiving an heir.”
“Ahhh.” Stefan nodded. “She seeks fertility.”
Cara nodded. “She’s had a very hard life, don’t you think? Her mother jumps off a cliff. She falls for the son of a kingdom that killed her own grandmother. Then her brother dies suddenly, forcing her to inherit a crown she never desired. The God of Madness has the perfect vessel.”
Stefan kind of pitied her.
“Maybe we should host her.” He suggested.
“That would be great.”
“Do you know if she’s traveling by land or air?”
Cara shook her head.
Stefan's shoulders fell.
“Any other news, then?”
Cara gently pulled away from Stefan’s hold.
“You are not going to believe what I’m about to say.”
Stefan’s body tensed.
Cara immediately noticed, prompting the shorter woman to grab the king’s hand and lead them to the round table.
The chairs were rather frigid and hard.
“Emmar and Sharra...” She began slowly, gently squeezing his hand. “will announce their relationship in two nights during the Banquet of Oceans.”
Stefan’s jaw dropped. “This has to be untrue.”
Cara shook her head quickly.
“The Isle’s traditions have always been rather conventional.” Stefan retorted, visibly confused. “Unlike our neighbors.”
“Speaking of our neighbors…” Cara said enthusiastically. “Kyrian is taking another wife.”
Stefan’s face froze.
“From Prophexia.” Cara added.
Stefan suddenly stood, anger suddenly coursing through his veins. “Your intel has to be wrong.”
“Her name is Merloa. Her grandmother was a member of the Circle of Vue. Diné royalty. She used needles to see the future.”
Stefan began to laugh.
Cara stared in confusion.
“First, he takes a wife from the Desert. Now, he takes a wife from Prophexia. What is his play, Cara?”
Cara shrugged her shoulders. “What I do know, however, is Sharra should absolutely not trust Emmar.”
Stefan folded his arms across his chest. “Why is that?”
“She’s a Separationist, my love.”
Stefan’s face remained blank.
“Her father was one of the orchestrators of the Dusting bombing. The mystical bombing that killed many of the Isle’s army.” Cara explained.
“And you expect Sharra not to know this?” Stefan asked, frowning. “From my own experience, the last thing you want to do is underestimate those Blood Queens.”
Cara lowered her head. She knew he was thinking about Shioban.
“They are vicious, all destroying, blood thirsty sadists.” He added angrily.
The king began pacing around the round table.
“If anything….”
Cara slowly raised her head.
“If I were Emmar, I would stay away from Sharra.”
“Do you ever wish things with Shioban turned out differently?”
The king stopped walking, his back turned away from Cara. “Of course I do. She nearly decimated our world.”
“Her husband, the king, died on your land.” Cara countered.
Stefan slowly turned around, eyes wide.
He clenched his fists hard. “I’m not the one who sent him to war.”
“An Akarian soldier killed him, my love.”
Stefan closed his eyes, fists still clenched. “That crown has always believed they could take anything they want. The Great Mushrooming, as they like to call it, inflated their egos. Shioban brought her kingdom into a war she had no business in. The death of her love is on her, not me.”
A vein across his forehead looked as if it was about to explode.
Cara quickly rose to a standing position and wrapped her arms around Stefan. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Stefan took a deep breath. “I'm just tired of people blaming me for Shioban’s decisions when she was the one who came here with that staff.”
“I know.” Cara murmured softly.
“Her body was never found. For all we know, she could have abandoned her kingdom.”
Cara pulled slightly back. “You don’t really believe that, do you?”
Stefan shrugged his shoulders.
“What do you think about the ladies?” He asked, desperate to change the topic.
Cara knew it, but she entertained him anyway.
“My bet is Violet. Beauty and magic? The perfect consort.”
Stefan scrunched his nose. “Really? My bet is Paloma. Her beauty is….”
“Undeniable.” Cara interrupted, finishing his sentence. “I agree.”
Cara began stroking his back, tracing larger circles.
“Any more news?” He asked.
“Not related, but the celebration of Queen Rosar begins in three nights and the party list has been confirmed.”
Stefan nodded. “First night of the Flower Summit.”
“Her favorite season.” Cara murmured, voice low.
“Anything else?”
Cara darted her eyes away and began biting her lip.
Stefan shifted, noticing her uneasiness. “What is it?”
Cara let out a loud sigh. “We need to talk about the vote.”
“Cara.” Stefan groaned. “I don’t want to talk about it. No one is voting in the favor of the Reclaimants when we’re still rebuilding our world. Hell, why should I?”
“Why not?” She whined.
“Many of them want my head.”
“The accusations are serious, my love.”
“I know the accusations are serious.”
“If the decimation charges are true……”
“That means he’s taking souls.” Stefan said, finishing her sentence this time.
“It could mean the power…”
Stefan abruptly pulled away from Cara and started shaking his head. “Impossible, Cara. Trust me, that is impossible.”
“How do you know that?”
Before Stefan could confess, the door swung open.
In the entrance, no one was there.
The air suddenly felt thick, heavy.
Only seconds later did Lord Flip emerge, still carrying the sack with Jolial’s head inside.
“The Hunter has arrived.” He announced.