The Wolves Den I
The feast hall was rowdy.
Invitations had been sent to every laird in the kingdom, even to those bothersome few away south in Dunn Kennigh. In reply, riders poured into Rhyd-hal from the far corners of the country, bringing gifts to appease the king and make his acquaintance. Every night had become a celebration.
And Skyre enjoyed it.
He was doted upon with tribute and praise, heralded as a vibrant youth returning the sun to its height. There was music and dancing and the roar of laughter. Food was piled on golden trays, and there was drink—so much drink. Wine and ale pooled in jeweled chalices alongside all the mead and meat they could eat.
The noise and tumult allowed Skyre reprieve. In the commotion, he could lose himself amongst his thoughts.
The Reaffirmation was swiftly approaching—what would be the most important ceremony of his reign. At the ceremony, he would select from his lairds his Aarden Féin, or golden retinue, thus settling his kingsguard. Less excitingly, he would also be made to hear the lairds’ Testimony of Rule, detailing their leadership under the previous Vaich, and determine who should continue to do so under his new command.
“Men with power become accustomed to power,”Medhin often told him when he was young.“But their complacency does not entitle them to keep it.”
Many lairds were children of longstanding dynasties. They would be expecting their titles upheld. But others courted favor with blood and toil.Theywould be expecting to be awarded for their efforts. In the end, there was only so much land to go around.
That, however, was some weeks off. For now, there was still time to play.
“They said you would be strong, but no one mentioned handsome.”
Skyre smirked, polishing off another tankard. “Happy to impress.”
The hall was ripe with beautiful women in beautiful gowns, and they all seemed to gravitate towards him.
“Might His Majesty provide a… demonstration?” The woman—a commendable ginger—pinched her lips into a radiant red smile. “A show of force, that is. Perhaps a trial?”
“If it’s a game you want, you need only come by the pitch tomorrow. But if I ken better, I’d say m’lady is eager to judge me tonight.”
She flushed pink. “My king is so candid…”
“Suppose I am. Even if I have all the time in the world, why squander it with small talk?”
“If that’s the case, we ought not mince words at all.”
“Exactly my position. But I’d be happy to see yours.” He teased the lacing above her bosom with the tip of his finger.
“Though…” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “Is it true His Majesty has taken a queen?”
Skyre felt doused in ice, but fire burned his throat. “He has not. And why should it matter? I am the son of Sun. Is it nae my right to take what I want? Is it you who dictates my appetite?”
“Y-Your Majesty, forgive me!” She looked distraught, and he was desperate to be rid of her. He waved her off before dragging a hand down his face.
“I did not expect to see the blazing Sun himself going cold with fair maidens,” said Greyv, moseying up with a low chuckle. “And just last night they could not throw themselves upon you fast enough.”
Skyre’s eyes flicked towards the tankard in Greyv’s grasp and snatched it up, drinking it down with a heavy gulp.
“Now, now, you can’t drink awaythatembarrassment.” His friend smiled. “But you could stand to mention the whole ‘Chosen of the Sun, ordained by God’ matter a bit less. Especially as defense for your blighted rutting.”
Skyre groaned. “A true friend would have lain me out.”
“I cannae bite your tongue for you.”
“Fire have me. It’ll be a sore sight if I don’t shore up this business. It isn’t their fault for asking.”
“And more will come,” said Greyv. “But the problem still stands. Howwillyou shore it up?”
Even if Skyre had an answer, he didn’t know that he could give it. The more people arrived from afar, the further gossip spread. Before long, all of Cullach would hear the tale of the second prophecy, and, unconfined to his court, he could not command the shape of its impact. Stories of the Moon Queen were already alive and well. Try as he might to ignore it, the trouble refused to make itself scarce.
