Redamancy Ch. 02-03

Chapter Two

She has violet eyes, Cassius thought to himself.

The slave girl quickly withdrew from his mind has he came upon his sister's black steed, flanked by her husband. Her stomach was plump beneath her sheer purple gown, indicating she was heavy with a child but Cassius was unsure of just how far along she really was.

Velorina never really called upon her brother, most likely due to her new husband's orders.

The pathetic Lord of the Westlands was nothing short of a nightmare to Broslan females, having laid hands upon them when he saw fit. No thanks to their father had Velorina married the Broslan. Had Cassius been king at the time of their betrothal, the Lord would have his head on a spike the moment he dared touch his sister. She was the only family he had left. He needed to keep her safe.

He brushed his hair behind his ears, feeling the smooth cuffs on the tips catch his fingers. He helped Vel down, her green eyes alight with a soft glow of a new mother. Something beautiful could come of this terrible marriage and Cassius felt her excitement.

"Cassius!" Vel squealed when Cas held out a hand to help her down. "Oh, brother, how I've missed you!" She wrapped her arms tightly about him, her long emerald sleeves clutching him forcefully to her.

The king was surprised at her lack of respect but didn't question her. Had another subject done this, they would have been executed on the spot. Though, this was his sister and he squeezed her back, nuzzling her raven hair with his mask, inhaling her sent through the four slits near his nose. She smelled like their mother; warm and inviting yet wise and old. "Sister,'' he whispered and closed his eyes, reveling in the familiarity of her.

When he pulled back, his eyes instantly drew to the harsh marks lining her pale and slim neck. They were palpable in her deep neckline, the gold trim accentuating what her husband has been doing to her. Healed bite marks. The bastard. Sure, Broslans often fed on one another for pleasure but those scars always healed within a day or so. These had been made in an act of violence, done in such a way that her body wouldn't have had time to restore. Add her growing child to that, her body was not able to withstand his attacks.

Cassius suppressed a growl and turned towards his brother-in-law. "Lord Toros," he nodded, calling the Lord by his first name. Impolite, maybe, but this was the least of the Lord's worries.

Toros bowed, sweeping low, hand on his middle. A thick band occupied his third finger in the center, a Dragh's profile emblazoned obviously on the face. "Your highness," he muttered, his voice a little high for a male's. Toros did not speak another word as he waited for the king to begin another conversation.

Cassius held Velorina at arm's length and studied her. He gestured towards her belly and, at her nod, he felt it. The protruding flesh was odd beneath his fingers as he ran them over her stomach. He even felt a kick or two from the little one inside.

The king smiled behind his mask, eyes crinkling from the sweet moment.

"Oh," Velorina thumped his mouth guard. "Why do you insist on wearing such a contraption?" She harrumphed, her eyebrows touching her hairline.

Now irritated, the king removed his hand from her belly and scratched at his scalp. "You know why," he whispered.

As if just realizing the real reason as to why the king never showed his full face, Vel straightened up and tipped her head down. "I'm sorry, your highness. I-I forgot," she murmured and took a step back, casting a glance over her shoulder at the spectators who had gathered around to bask in the glorious beauty of the king's sister.

Cassius waved her apology off. "It's quite alright, Vellie."

She grinned at her childhood nickname.

He held out a hand for her to take. "Come, rest and we will feast tonight. Your journey was long and tedious. I have separate rooms for you."

When Toros shot him a glare, Cassius felt pride swell up in his chest.

Oh, in his own castle, Cassius would protect his sister with every resource he had. Even if that meant wiping that smirk off of that bastard's face.

Chapter Three

"Separate rooms? Is he serious?"

Toros threw a glass against the stone wall. His temper had flared again. He needed to hurt something, someone. The pussy of a king had to hide behind a fucking mask and he even had the balls to separate him from his wife!

If Cassius weren't king, Toros would surely have had him killed, most likely doing the deed himself.

Ah. It had been nearly five years since his last hit and he was itching to murder somebody. It was like a tick deep within him. An invisible need that couldn't be dealt with unless a live being had to die. Typically, he chose a slave, a concubine, or even a peasant. Whoever wouldn't be easily missed. Perhaps tonight he'd break his dry spell.

He was alone in his chambers, a vast room easily adequate enough to fit him and his wife, plus twenty more. Of course the king had told him there were no other rooms available.

As if this were a tavern. Scoffing, Toros flung himself into a plush sitting chair.

This was absolutely absurd. He should be sharing a bed with his wife, the mother of his child, for the gods' sakes! But now Toros was stuck in another chamber, as if he were a love scorned adolescent not allowed to grace the object of his desire.

Alas, he would have to acquire one of the king's concubines given his wife was too far along in her gestation and that did not sit well with Toros.

Sure, Velorina had been purely a political gain, a marriage of bloods to ensure a peaceful treaty between two lands. Granted, the Westlands were a part of Ieslal but they were also their own little territory. Being that Toros's great ancestor fought to keep control of his land, the Westlands had been deemed a sovereign state, by the ancient king Mantoryn.

By means of magic, of course. The pathetic King Cassius outlawed magic due to it driving the late King Riynor mad with power. It was the sickness that came with practicing the craft, the disease that all royals of Broslans are born with. They say that King Cassius was the most powerful until he cast a spell to rid the kingdom of all magic.

Toros stood and crossed to the large window that faced the Westlands, barely able to see over the tops of the great walls Cassius had built. Riddled with charms, the king knew how to keep out those he did not want in his keep. The four black towers at each spiral point kept an invisible field of protection for miles on end. Of course, no one really knew just how King Riynor suddenly became ill. Some say it may have been a sort of dark magic. Others claim his magic poisoned him due to what he had done to his son. The torment he had put Cassius through must have been pure torture.

But that left Ieslal up for grabs when Riynor killed himself. Cassius was the rightful heir however; rumors had been spreading about the boy's heritage. His true heritage. Sure, he was a Broslan but...there was also something off about him. He was a little too lean and tall to be a full blooded Broslan. The people were beginning to question their king, wondering just what was wrong with him to keep his face covered up.

And now, Toros was trying to grab every bit of Ieslal while producing heirs. He could turn her people upside down, make them forget about their king. Make them trust in the lowly Lord of the Westlands.

Oh yes, Ieslal will be his.