Tag: M/Mfiction

  • The Reluctant Consort – 1

    Chapter 1

    In a time of prosperity, four kingdoms came together and formed an empire.

    The great Kaveh Miran, an accomplished general from Silver Nation, led the great political alliance that made Sun Kingdom, Iron Land, Blood Nation and Silver Kingdom into one.  A great alliance that became known as The Akasha Empire.

    By joint decision, the kings of each nation named Kaveh Miran the Emperor of Akasha, making him and his family responsible for keeping the peace between nations and ensuring a long-standing empire.  Kaveh accepted the mandate and built an imperial city in the middle of the Akasha Empire.  Making it easy for any nation to approach his palace for assistance as needed. The Miran Family would then take on the duty of protecting and serving all in need.

    Akasha was abundant with resources: cultivating land, minerals, food, and water.  What they did not have they made up for by trading with neighboring countries.  Merchants in Akasha grew prosperous businesses, and rose to fortune and fame in a glorious era known as The Miran Era.

    When Kaveh Miran grew tired, he left the care of the empire to his three children: Kiyan, Kastan and Kyra.

    Kiyan became Emperor of Akasha, Kastan a Prince of Akasha, while Kyra married a foreign king to strengthen Akasha’s allies and became Queen of Tanad, moving to the North of Akasha.

    Of all his children, Kaveh Miran had always thought Kastan as the strongest.

    For that same reason, Emperor Kiyan made Prince Kastan the commander of Akasha’s army.

    Kastan took on the role of protector of the Akasha Empire, and lived his life for the safety and care of the empire and its people.  When he turned twenty, he too married a princess from Blood Nation to strengthen the royal family’s ties.

    For this marriage, Kaveh granted Kastan a Dukedom in the middle of a lush valley named Silver Shore.  Kastan took his new wife to live at Silver Shore, glad to escape the many pressures of the Akasha Palace.

    Princess Jian was two years younger than Kastan.  She was beautiful and reconciled to her fate.  She married Kastan out of duty.  Their marriage was a mutual alliance and when she got pregnant, they were both happy that their new home would have an heir to carry on their lineage.

    Kastan did not count on his wife being too delicate to give birth.

    He certainly did not think that Jian would die in childbirth and leave him responsible for a newborn son.  The night Jian died, Prince Kastan held his newborn son in his arms and promised himself that he would never allow another weak partner near him.

    *~*~*

    Ten years after Jian’s death, Prince Kastan had established Silver Shore as his permanent home, choosing to visit the Imperial Palace when it was necessary.  His reasons deeply tied to his ten-year-old son, Rashan.

    Silver Shore was a lush valley surrounded by rolling hills, green fields, wild forests and a stunning silver river that flowed through the valley heading to the ocean.  Under Prince Kastan’s care, the people living in the valley prospered, and Silver Shore became a coveted utopia.

    It was an unattainable utopia, as most of Silver Shore’s residents were family members of Prince Kastan’s core army.  These families turned Silver Shore into both fortress and paradise for those who were lucky to call it home.  These men and women who lived within the valley protected it with fierce devotion.  Until it had became prestigious to marry into a family living in Silver Shore, or to meet one who called Silver Shore home.

    Silver Shore residents treasured Kastan and affectionately called him Duke Silver, a nickname started by his best friend and right hand man, Temu.

    The people also spoiled Kastan’s son, Rashan, calling him Little Prince when he ran around in town with his nanny and guardian.  Kastan was grateful for the residents of Silver Shore as their devotion added a layer of protection for his most precious son.  No one would dare touch Rashan at Silver Shore.

    Kastan’s manor, which stood in the most secure part of the valley, was called Sun-filled Manor.  Kastan’s father had named it when he came to visit and discovered that the morning sun filled the halls without prejudice.  Kaveh Miran decided the name Sun-Filled suited the manor, and deemed it a perfect home for his grandson, Rashan.

    Kastan and his son called Sun-filled Manor home.  They lived with Kastan’s three loyal friends, Temu, Safan and Naveed.  There was also Rashan’s nanny, Fara, and Yasmin, the housekeeper who managed all of Sun-filled Manor.

    At the start of Rashan’s eleventh year, seven people stood in an open field that led to a cliff behind the manor releasing lanterns to the sky.

    Kastan watched his son carefully hold his lantern, and then send it up to the sky.  The higher it rose, the wider Rashan smiled.  When his son closed his eyes to make his wish, Kastan stepped closer to listen in.

    Rashan always spoke aloud on his wishes, hoping his father would hear them and help make them come true.

    This year was different.

    Kastan frowned when Rashan decided to murmur his wishes with a sense of fervor this year.

    “Please make my wish come true this year,” Rashan murmured.  “I’ve asked so many times already.  You have to fulfill it this year, please.”

    Kastan’s frowned deepened.  He was sure he had done his best to fulfill all of Rashan’s wishes the past year.  From giving him a black horse like his father’s, to redoing the east wing of Sun-Filled Manor to accommodate Rashan’s sword training, he had done it all.

    Why was this kid still making a desperate wish this year too?

    This wasn’t the first time he had heard this murmur, Kastan thought.  He remembered the same hushed tone when Rashan turned nine.  It disappeared when Rashan turned ten, but now it was back in his eleventh year.

    Curious, Kastan placed a gentle hand on Rashan’s right shoulder making his son look up at him.

    “Shan, is there something you want that you don’t have?” Kastan asked, sure that his son was not missing anything material.

    He worked hard to make sure that Rashan had everything he needed.

    Rashan bit his bottom lip, worrying it a bit, before he shook his head, no.

    Kastan lifted his right brow in question, and his heart squeezed when Rashan smiled at him.

    “Fara told me that this little wish of mine must be granted by a higher power.  Even if the people call you the god of war, my wish can only be heard by the god of fate,” Rashan said, dropping his hands to his sides.  “Fara said I must be pure in my wish for it to come true, otherwise he won’t hear my prayer.”

    Kastan glanced at Fara who was standing with Yasmin as they watched the lanterns float into the night sky.  This was a good start of the year, and he had promised them a bonus envelope to take to their families.  They looked happy.  He was glad for it as they took care of his most precious person. 

    Kastan wondered if Fara knew what Rashan’s wish was, his frown deepened when he remembered she liked to keep his son’s confidence.  Meaning, if Rashan wanted a secret kept, she was more than willing to help Rashan.  The only exception was if the secret was one that could harm Rashan, then she was the first to run to Kastan’s study.

    Since Fara had not told him this secret, it was not harmful to Rashan, but…

    “Rashan, remember what I’ve said before.  We must make our own way, our own path,” Kastan felt compelled to say.  “You must state what you want to get, and set your mind to getting it.  This is how the world works.  One must not leave anything to chance.”

    “Fara said that would be your answer,” Rashan said with a thoughtful nod.

    A few minutes passed in silence.  They both looked up at the sky watching the lanterns float away, lighting the dark night.  Then Rashan took Kastan’s left hand, his small hands wrapping around Kastan’s much larger one.

    “When I’m sure it can come true, I’ll tell you, Pa.”

    Kastan crouched low to his son’s height, and brought the hands holding his left one to his lips.

    “I’ll look forward to it, Shan,” Kastan said with a small grin, eager to discover what wish his son kept so close to his heart.  “Now, are you ready for the new year’s dinner?  Why don’t we go inside and discover what Yasmin’s made for dinner.”

    “She spent the whole day cooking,” Rashan said, excitement filling his cheeks with color.  He squeezed Kastan’s hand tight, before he rushed off to Yasmin’s side, declaring his hunger.

    Yasmin and Fara each took one of Rashan’s hands and started in the direction of the manor, their pace unhurried.  Kastan watched them, smiling as they talked about the colorful moon cakes Fara made, roasted chicken, lotus root soup, the list seemed endless.

    Kastan straightened to his full height when the trio entered the kitchen using the back door.  He turned to look up at the lanterns, which had travelled a distance away.  He was conscious of the three men he trusted with his life moving to stand on each side of him.

    “Your Grace,” Temu spoke first, standing on Kastan’s right.  “When will you respond to the summons from Emperor Kiyan?”

    “After the new year’s celebrations end,” Kastan answered with a heavy sigh.  He folded his hands behind his back, dragging his gaze away from his son’s lantern to the rest of the valley sprawled before him.

    The night filled with lanterns released by hopeful souls living in Silver Shore.  The streets were alight, celebrations taking over the main square in town.  The sound of joyful music echoed in the air.  His people were happy and in peace.

    Kastan hated to break the spell with foreboding.

    “None of them will fault you,” Naveed said from Kastan’s left, answering his thoughts.  “We are all content with the path we’ve chosen.  Silver Shore has enjoyed five years of peace because of your staunch support, Your Grace.  The Akasha Empire is our home too.  We shall fight with you to guard what we’ve all built together these last five years.”

    Kastan looked at Naveed’s profile.

    Naveed was the most sentimental one of the three while Darian was more quick to anger and action.

    “War is not confirmed, yet,” Kastan reminded Temu and Naveed.

    He wasn’t ready to think of war just yet.

    “I’m only answering summons from my Emperor Brother.  He could be asking for a peacekeeping tour.  The problems at West Nation’s border are all solvable with a competent diplomat.”

    “The palace is full of conspiring politicians,” Safan said, the third and most important man in the trio said.  “A summons reaching Silver Shore means one of those old men has aggravated relations at the west border and forced the Emperor and Tanad Kingdom into a tight corner.  Whether it is peacekeeping or war, you’ll need to be cautious, Your Grace.”

    “You are all right,” Kastan said, after a minute of thought.

    His oldest brother tried to keep direct summons to a minimum.  Kastan appreciated that as it meant that he managed all armies at will.  Every turn of the moon, Kastan made an appearance at the palace where he met his brother, and discussed any pressing problems in the different provinces.  They managed an amiable working relationship.

    Summons were scattered, Kastan disliked them as they meant an extended stay at the palace.  He did not like the idea of leaving Rashan alone at Silver Shore.  Worse, he never wanted to entertain the idea of Rashan moving into the palace.  That thought made him shudder.

    “Whatever the order, the outcome cannot change,” Kastan murmured.  “Silver Shore stays intact and protected.”

    “Yes, Your Grace,” they all agreed.

    Kastan smiled this time, his lips curving wider.  He was glad that he never had to worry about these three.  They made the mess in the palace easier to face.

    “Duke Silver,” Temu said, his tone teasing.  “I have a serious craving for Yasmin’s roasted chicken.  The lanterns won’t return now.  We’ve set them free; they’ll land where they will.  Why don’t we head back to the house to eat?”

    Kastan had yet to thank Temu for the interesting nickname that had spread through the valley like wildfire.

    “Who has stopped you from racing to the kitchen?” Kastan asked.

    “Duke Silver no one dares eat while you’re standing out here staring at the sky with that mournful look,” Naveed said.

    Safan moved around Naveed and came to wrap an arm around Safan’s shoulders.  He was a hulk of a man, with bulging muscles gained from his love of using a hammer and axe in battle and in the homestead.

    Safan turned Kastan around with a simple squeeze and led Kastan toward the house, launching into a tale about Rashan breaking into the chicken coop earlier in the afternoon.

    Kastan loved listening to Safan’s tales about Rashan.  He loved it more that Safan managed to dispel the anxiety growing from their coming uncertain future.  His message clear: enjoy the quiet and peace for now.

    ~*~*~*~

    Three days after the New Year’s celebrations ended, Kastan rode his black warhorse into the capital, wearing his colors.  His silver coat decorated with embroidery to fit his station and a blood red cape cascading down his back with a black tiger crest right in the middle.  It was the symbol of his army.

    Temu and Naveed followed Kastan close, the thundering hooves of three black warhorses cleared the road faster than any shout from the street officers.  People moved to the side when they saw them racing down the streets of the Imperial City Akan.

    Kastan paid them no mind, and did not slow down until he saw the large black gates of the Akan palace ahead.  Slowing down the pace of his horse, he watched the gates slowly start to open; the soldiers guarding the gates all formed a neat line on each side of the palace gates, their black uniform with gold embroidery matching.  They saluted Kastan as he rode through the open gates into the Akasha Imperial Palace.

    Kastan led his horse to the foot of the series of stairs that led to the front doors of the palace’s greeting hall.  A man’s luck depended on what he found at the top of the stairs.  It could be a cool reception, a warm greeting, or nothing, at the extreme one found death at the end of a sword.

    Kastan walked up the stairs with a sense of nostalgia.  He grew up in this palace, running up these steps with his sister and brother.  As he turned ten, his interests turned to the extensive training grounds beyond the main palace where learned to wield a sword the right way.

    His training master insisted he learn how to use all weapons in the palace’s arsenal.  The challenge was welcome and with it, his thirst for adventure.  The solid walls around the palace started to feel stifling, and he longed for a life outside the Imperial City.  Everything he had done since he turned twenty and married Jian was to gain independence to live outside the palace.  He dared not imagine the idea of returning into this opulent cold palace.  Silver Shore was far more comfortable compared to this place.

    “We have a reception,” Naveed murmured, his instinct for danger alive and at work.  “I count five people.”

    Kastan nodded and finished the last set of stairs, his senses alert.  Standing ten steps away was his brother, Kiyan, and his sister, Kyra: an Emperor and a Queen.  Behind them were two of Kiyan’s aides and Kyra’s shadow guard, Sanin.

    Kastan did not slow his steps, but Naveed and Temu did, stopping right by the stairs. 

    “Kas,” Kyra said, racing to him without a care for decorum.

    Kastan braced himself as she launched herself into his arms.  He lifted her up and turned around on the spot, pleased to see her so well.  He missed her dearly.

    “Kyra,” Kastan kissed her cheek when he set her on her feet.

    She was beautiful in a moss green silk dress cinched at her waist with a wide gold belt, with long sleeves and its long skirts sweeping the floor.  Her long dark hair fell down her back to her waist, with intricate gold leaves keeping it in check.  She looked every bit a queen.

    “You grow more beautiful with time.”

    “I would say the same, Kas,” Kyra said, reaching up with her left hand to caress his right eyebrow and the scar there.  “This still makes you look dashing.  How many hearts have you broken since I last saw you?”

    “None,” Kastan said.

    “That can only mean countless,” Kyra said with a laugh, as she took his right hand, and led him to their Emperor brother.  “Kiyan, why do you restrain yourself when you’re as glad to see Kas as I am?”

    “He is commander of armies, not to be jumped on at will,” Kiyan said when they reached him.

    Still, Kiyan stepped closer and pulled Kastan into a tight hug.  Kastan held his brother, relieved his siblings were in good spirits.

    Kiyan let him go, reaching out to arrange Kastan’s red cape with a small smile.  He looked around Kastan, taking in Naveed and Temu who bowed in greeting, still his gaze remained searching.

    “Rashan?” Kiyan asked after a minute.

    “With Safan at Silver Shore,” Kastan answered, noting the quick wave of disappointment that flashed over both Kyra and Kiyan’s gazes.  “We needed to ride fast.  The journey would have been taxing for him.”

    “I miss him,” Kyra complained.  “I last saw him when he turned ten.  It was his birthday a few days ago.  I wanted to give him a gift.”

    “You’re welcome to Silver Shore at any time.  You could send the gifts to him too,” Kastan said.  “You must visit Silver Shore before you return to Tanad, Kyra.”

    “What about me?” Kiyan asked.  “Must I leave the palace to visit my nephew too?”

    Kastan sighed.  His Emperor was unhappy about his choice to keep Rashan away from palace life.  That much was obvious.  Still, Rashan adored both Kiyan and Kyra. 

    “I will make arrangements for him to make a short visit soon,” Kastan said, though he sounded reluctant even to his ears.

    Kyra glanced at Kiyan, before she tucked her hand in the crook of Kastan’s left arm.

    “Come in, Kastan,” Kyra suggested.  “I made sure there was plenty of food and drink ready for when you arrived.  Your men can follow us and we’ll get them settled for the night.”

    Kastan turned and nodded to Naveed and Temu who followed them.

    “Thank you for answering my summons so soon,” Kiyan said as they went down a long hallway.  “I imagined you might be delayed for a week or so.”

    “I always come when you ask,” Kastan reminded his brother.

    “You’re the only one I can count on,” Kiyan said, his tone enough to make Kastan pause. 

    Kiyan was the most powerful man in the empire.  He should fear nothing, especially with Kastan by his side.  Still, an Emperor had more worries keeping him awake.

    “Kastan, can you trust me with Rashan?  It’s dangerous to leave him alone at Silver Shore.”

    Kyra squeezed Kastan’s arm, and he caught her censoring gaze when he looked at her.  She wanted him to take it easy with Kiyan.

    “Your Majesty’s offer is hard to ignore,” Kastan said.  “I’m afraid I would have to wait to give you an answer.  Your servant is weak when it comes to his son.  I can’t force him to do anything.”

    “Aren’t you being too nice a parent?” Kiyan asked, leading the way into an elegant greeting room with tables laden with food and drink.

    “I still have a lot to learn,” Kastan answered, noting that the servants moved in silent coordination leaving the room and closing the doors tight.  “Is the Empress not joining us?”

    “She is occupied with our sons,” Kiyan said, indicating for them to take seats at the largest dining table.  “Besides, what I want to discuss concerns the empire.”

    Kyra sat directly across him on Kiyan’s right, while Kastan and his men took the left side. Kastan waited for Temu and Naveed to settle beside him before he pulled out his chair and sat. 

    Kyra and Kiyan allowed Kastan and his men to eat and drink in silence for a few minutes.

    Kiyan was the one to break the silence first.

    “Kastan,” Kiyan said, making Kastan look.

    Kiyan watched him with a somber gaze.  Guilt bloomed in his gaze and Kastan looked away, sipping his wine, unable to take that guilt.

    “West Nation has become a problem,” Kastan said, bringing up the topic on his brother’s behalf.  “All your attempts at negotiation must have failed.”

    “So you already understand the situation,” Kiyan said with a heavy sigh.  “West Nation is matching on our border.  All attempts at reaching an amiable agreement have dissolved.  They sent me the head of the last envoy I sent to them.  All because they want the iron mines at Mount Kin.”

    Mount Kin spanned the length of Akasha’s west border with West Nation.  The mountain was in Akasha land, and the people living at the foot of the mountain were skilled metal forgers.  They mined iron from the mountain caves and were a huge source of income for the land.  The Emperor would need to respond with force on any aggressive move against Mount Kin.

    Kastan met his brother’s gaze.

    “Say it,” Kastan said giving his brother an assuring nod.

    “Are you sure you will not send Rashan to stay with us in the palace?” Kiyan asked instead.  “He is important to us, as much as he is to you, Kas.”

    “Rashan is happiest at Silver Shore,” Kastan said, noting the flash of disappointment in his brother’s gaze.

    “Then, Commander,” Kiyan said, his tone hard.  “Akasha is at war with West Nation.  I’m leaving the west border to you.”

    Kastan placed his goblet on the table and gave his brother a single nod in answer.  He knew his brother would repeat this same order before the royal court tomorrow morning.

    Kastan turned to Naveed and Temu.  He gave them a short nod and they both got up from the table, excusing themselves.  They headed out to start discrete preparations.

    “This war is on two fronts,” Kiyan said, lowering his voice once Kastan’s men left the room.  “One shall be fought at court, dealing with the Minister of Trade and the Empress’s father, the other by you, at the border.”

    “I have pledged my Queen’s Army to you,” Kyra said, her gaze on Kastan.  “You’ll need all the support you can get.”

    Kastan pushed his food away, and concentrated on understanding the plot at court that had lead them to war.

    *~*~*~*

    Prologue

  • New Fiction Snippets – Upcoming Stories

    A Prince & His Royal Guard
    This story is something I’m playing around with of late. It will be short, it will be sweet. I have had fun writing it!

    The thud of a bullet hitting a tree too close startled the black thoroughbred stallion into a run.  Leon swallowed bile and leaned over his horse, gripping his reins to keep control of Starburst as they raced through the wild forests surrounding his home.  A second shot sent birds flying from the branches.

    A harsh hiss left his lips when he felt the painful sting on his right upper arm.

    Leon leaned lower on his horse not daring a glance back.

    Starburst ran fast, scared and unsettled.  Leon needed all his wits to keep control of him.

    He thanked his luck as Starburst emerged from the forest and onto an open field a minute later.  The horse kept up his fast pace, heading to the stables.  When they were halfway there, Leon turned back hoping to see his assailant.  His heart thudded in his chest when he saw no one standing at the tree line aiming at him with a gun.  It was little relief.

    Starburst slowed down when they were closer to familiar territory.  Leon brought him to a stop outside the stable and jumped off the saddle with a wince.  Pain lanced up his upper arm, blood dripping down his sleeve.

    The groom who came to take Starburst gave a short gasp taking the reins from Leon.

    “Your Highness, you’re injured!”

    Leon glanced at his right upper arm with a grimace.  The bullet grazed his arm hard and left a deep furrow that dripped blood down his arm.  It stung.  He didn’t want to think about taking a shower with it.  The next few days would be uncomfortable.

    “Your Highness,” Dax, his royal guard and attendant, came running from inside the stable, horror clear in his eyes.  “Oh God, how did this happen?”

    “Don’t start with me,” Leon said, turning away from Dax, intent on running to his rooms.

    Dax grew up in the service of the royal family.  He knew the rules and regulations of running a palace front and back.  When he moved to Castle Arguro, those rules and regulations remained.  His unparalleled dedication to Leon often left him unsettled.

    Having grown up wild and unchecked, Leon often chafed under Dax’s constant attention.  The man took everything that happened to Leon too seriously.

    Ten years of Dax and Leon still had not found a middle ground with the thirty-one year old attendant.  Dax’s concern seemed to deepen with time.

    “Stop,” Dax ordered, running around Leon to stop his progress to the castle.

    Dax’s gentle hands took Leon’s right arm.  Leon winced when Dax ripped the holder on his sleeve wider, his gaze narrowed as he studied the angry bleeding gouge.  A soft hiss escaped Dax when he recognized what injured Leon.  Meeting Leon’s gaze, Dax let go of Leon’s arm and took a step back.

    “It’s time to report this,” Dax stated, his tone enough to tell Leon there was no arguing.  “This is no longer an accident.”

    Leon let a heavy sigh escape, unable to refute Dax, thinking back on the last three weeks.

    His yacht blowing up minutes before Leon boarded two weeks ago.  A week after, the tires on his favorite Ferrari had blown up on a particularly scary stretch of curved road.

    Leon could not avoid reality any longer. Three accidents in the space of weeks was no longer a coincidence

    “Someone is trying to kill you, Prince Leon,” Dax said, his eyes wide with worry.

    Leon’s gaze shifted to the castle beyond the stables, an uneasy feeling brewing deep inside him.

    Castle Arguro was home to the Kingdom’s royal second son.  Leon had called the castle home for twenty-five years.  Arguro was his parents’ home first.  When Leon turned twenty-one, his mother and father died in a tragic car accident in Monaco.

    Leon then became Castle Arguro’s master.

    Four years after their funeral, he now looked forward to living a quiet life in this place.  Content to focus his extensive resources on businesses and the charities his parents founded and supported.  He wanted no political power or official duties from the Kingdom’s Palace.

    Leon never ventured into the royal court, or involved himself in the constant running intrigues that ruled the Kingdom’s seat of power.  He was fourth in line to the throne, and hoped to become twentieth.  If only his cousins would marry and give birth, as expected, ensuring his freedom.

    With that in mind, Leon turned to Dax.

    “Do not go running to grandmother’s officials with this.  Use Castle Arguro’s resources first.  Reach out to private security firms.  Keep it discrete,” Leon warned, when Dax smiled.  “They can also handle security around the castle until we find the culprit.”

    “Okay.” Dax nodded, looking pleased now that Leon was placing importance to the incident.

    “Let’s get you inside and see to your arm.  It annoys me to see your blood staining the grass.”

    Leon chuckled and gave the wound on his right arm a wary glance.  He still couldn’t believe someone had gotten close enough to graze his arm with a bullet.

    ****

    The Unexpected Consort

    I’m on a roll with princes this season. Here is a look at a story I’ve been hatching for a while. The title may change. I ‘m not in love with the current one. It will be long, and gives me the vibes for Crown Prince Yoshi, which I enjoy and love so dearly. This one will be longer than the one above. I’ll post it as the year goes, after working on Seiryu Spirit.

    Chapter 1 – A Resounding Peace

    Kamran Estate, Wild Lands

    “Taste it.”

    Jihan stared at the pink fruit.  Its juices slid down a slender wrist, dripping to the ground.  The hand holding the juicy morsel moved to his lips once more and he gave in.  He opened his mouth and took in the fruit.

    Sweet and tangy taste exploded in his mouth and he smiled at the woman who had fed him the fruit.

    “Delicious,” Jihan said, his gaze returning to the ledger he was writing.

    “Delicious,” she mocked his tone, then laughed, jumping off the platform where he sat.  She ran down the stairs to the open space below. 

    “Ishan! Did you hear him?  The peach is clearly tastier than anything he has ever had.  Why does he sound like he is bored?  Tell me, Ishan, what am I to do with this little brother?”

    Jihan noted down the number of peaches they were getting from Ishan’s orchard and glanced up to see Ishan wrap an arm around Andiya’s waist.  His older sister laughed when Ishan twirled her around, holding her tight against him.  Jihan placed his pen on its holder and watched them tease each other.

    The courtyard was alive with activity.  Work men coming in from Ishan’s orchard, carrying crates of peaches to be taken by Jihan’s work men.  The women working in Ishan’s estate cooked in the corner, in anticipation of feeding the many workers visiting today.

    Ishan and Andiya moved between each group keeping up morale.  Or so it would seem to others, but Jihan knew how much Andiya loved Ishan.  How much Ishan wanted Andiya to become Mistress of the Gura Estate.  Jihan envied them their connection.

    “Jihan,” Andiya called to him, and he blinked watching her raise two huge peaches to her eyes.  She made a pout and he chuckled at the sight of her.  Ishan grinned and the courtyard erupted into laughter at Andiya’s continued antics to make him laugh.

    Jihan indulged her for a few minutes, until the next batch of crates came into the courtyard and he had to pick up his pen to note them down.  He worked steadily for the next hour, and right as lunch was ready, he looked up to see his shadow guard, Shen, walk into the courtyard.

    Jihan finished writing the number of fruits he was taking from Ishan, and the cost in his ledger.  He pushed it aside when Shen reached him and crouched beside him, the grip on his sword tight.

    “Master Jihan,” Shen greeted.  “News from the Kingdom’s Capital.”

    “The war?” Jihan asked, afraid the Second Prince had failed in his defense of the Wei Kingdom’s west border.  Second Prince, Feng Wei, commanded the Kingdom’s army on behalf of the king.  He was to drive out invaders from West Nation.  The war at the west border was three months old now.  The fear that Second Prince would lose was taking root in everyone’s heart.

    “Prince Feng Wei has suppressed the invaders,” Shen said, he produced a note from his pocket and handed it to Jihan.  “Our sources played an important role, your father has received a commendation from the palace.”

    “So, what’s the news from the Capital?” Jihan asked, unrolling the note to read later.

    “King Feng Jun has made a royal decree,” Shen said, his expression filled with urgency.  “He insists on a royal wedding between a Kamran child and Second Prince, Feng Wei.”

    Jihan sucked in air, his gaze on his sister who sat next to Lord Ishan adding grilled fish slices into his bowl.

    “Father?” Jihan asked.

    “He is delighted by the idea of his family tied to the royal family, even though it is a second marriage for Prince Feng Wei,” Shen said.  “Your father is making preparations for the wedding as we speak.  He will come to take Andiya to the capital personally.”

    Jihan looked away from his smiling sister and stared at the note he held.  Heart pounding with worry at the thought of Andiya forced to marry into the royal family.  His sister was happy.  She loved Lord Ishan.  Their father would never understand that love.  He would force her to give it up.

    “Should we tell Lady Andiya?” Shen asked.

    “Not yet,” Jihan said.  “Have them prepare the evening meal in my house.  I shall have no one else attending to this meal but you.  Do you understand?”

    “Yes, Master Jihan.”

    “Prepare everything, and contain this news.”  Jihan glanced at Ishan and Andiya, nodding when Andiya smiled at him.  “You and I will need to work hard to reduce the damage from this royal decree.  I’m afraid Kamran Estate might suffer a huge loss at the end of it. There can be no mistakes.”

    “Yes, Master.”

    Shen got up and hurried off, leaving Jihan to read the note from one of his trusted troop leaders supplying Second Prince’s army at the west border.

    Master Kamran,

    Beware of the gift given by the Dragon Seat.  This war has exposed Kamran, leaving your Wild Estate open to jealousy and envy from court officials.  Your network is powerful and The Dragon will seek to own it.  If you cannot escape the gift, then cultivate a friendship with the fierce commander at the west.  He is grateful to Kamran for the help and support you gave in secret.  He will look at you with kind eyes.

    As always, my hope is to grow our alliance and create a harmonious and prosperous atmosphere for our families.  I know your sister’s happiness is in danger if she reaches the Capital.  Your faithful friend,

    Swallow.

    Jihan reread the letter twice, and then reached for the bowl left by Andiya an hour ago for drinking water.  He sunk the letter into the bowl, soaking it with water.  His gaze on the ink fading from the paper, his thoughts on the difficult future ahead.

    Jihan could only hope his father was not too eager to be father in-law to a prince.

    ***

    They are both stories about love and adventure. I can’t wait to get them out to you!

  • The Morgan Lore – 2

    Chapter 2 – The Scent of Change, Strangers descend on Portento

    Shooting nails into the doorframe to secure it in place, Rory felt a sense of unease probe at him.  The shift was subtle, almost non-existent, but Rory knew trouble was coming.  Turning off the nail gun, he stored his tools in the carrier at his feet.  Rory snapped the tool box closed and stretched his arms above his head to ease the tension in his shoulders.

    “Rory!”

    Rory jerked into motion, rushing out of the section of the house they were extending.  Outside, the morning sun danced over the trees to light their large front yard.  Connor Morgan stood on the gravel drive, hands at his hips.

    “Dad?”

    “Go find a shirt, we have to get to town.  Chris was racing that Dolon kid on his motorcycle and they crashed.  They were raced to the hospital.”

    “Shit.”

    Rory went running to the main doors of their house.  He took the stairs two at a time until he reached his suite.  Going into the bathroom, he splashed water on his face at the sink, washed his pits and his arms.  Splashed water on his chest and grabbed a towel.  Wiping himself with negligent jerks, he rolled on some deodorant, and hurried out of the bathroom.  He grabbed a clean t-shirt from the closet, adjusting his jeans, he removed his work boots, jamming his feet into sneakers.  He was out of his room in three minutes, and racing downstairs to his father’s pickup truck.

    The car was already running.  Once in the cab, his father took off down the drive, speeding down the dirt road through the forest, heading to the main road.

    “I don’t understand why Chris has to constantly get himself in trouble.  This is the second time this month.  Do you know what’s going on with him, Rory?”

    Rory didn’t know.  About three months ago, Chris’s girlfriend walked out on him.  She got on a plane and flew out to L.A. saying she wanted to be in the movies.  Chris was devastated.  His grief so tangible, it was hard to be in the same room with him.

    “Do you think Lori was his mate?” Rory asked.  “I mean, she’s—

    “No.  If she was, and she walked away from him, Chris would be under anesthesia, and not running around like a mad man.”

    “Well, then I don’t know what’s wrong with him,” Rory said, shrugging his shoulders.

    His father drove too fast.  They got to town faster than was legal.  Luckily, Connor was the town sheriff, no one would bother ask him questions.  Finding a parking spot close to the entrance, Connor and Rory walked into the only hospital in their town.  The nurse on duty waved at Connor, and directed them to the second floor.

    They heard Chris’s laugh before they saw him.  A woman was talking to him, her words heavy with accent.  Italian?  Or maybe Spanish?  Rory couldn’t place it.  The scent of citrus and bay leaves mixed in with disinfectant, and Rory glanced at his Dad.

    “You’re very healthy,” the Italian woman was saying.  “You are lucky.  Surviving such a terrible accident is no easy feat.  I can only imagine how your parents would have taken the news if things went the other way.”

    “Not well,” Chris said.  “Luckily, I’m agile.”

    “Agile is an interesting way to put it.” She laughed, the sound musical.  “I would say you are blessed.  Many people would have broken arms, legs and head injuries.  Chris, you must stop racing through life so reckless.  I’m a great doctor, but even I cannot bring back the dead.  Promise to be careful?”

    “With that smile, I’d promise the world to you, Doctor Ilaria.”

    “Such a Casanova,” the doctor said, her tone amused.

    Connor pulled the curtain open, to find Chris lying back on the hospital bed, and the doctor applying ointment on the angry scrape on Chris’s left thigh and knee.

    “Yes, how may I help you?” the Doctor asked, when she saw them.

    “I’m Connor Morgan, his father.”

    “Oh, yes, good you have come.  I’m almost finished.  Chris has deep abrasions on his left knee, and thigh.  We have cleaned the wounds and treated them.  Your son was very lucky.”

    “He really is,” Connor said, glaring at Chris.  “Thank you so much Doctor…”

    “Ilaria.”

    She removed her gloves and held out her hand, her smile wide and beautiful.

    “Ilaria Takeda,” she said, shaking Connor’s hand.

    She turned to Rory, and when he took her hand, the scent of citrus filled his nose, coupled with soft tones of the most enticing scent in the world.  Holding her hand, Rory took a step closer, moving around the bed.

    What was it?  That maddening scent, so fresh, so….mandarins!  Fresh mandarin oranges, the kind that had you gulping up a whole mandarin in one second.  The scent disappeared and he leaned even closer, making Ilaria’s eyes widen.

    “Rory.”

    His father’s voice pulled him back from the precipice, and Rory let go of Ilaria’s hand.  A frown dancing on his forehead, he took a step back from Ilaria and gave her a sheepish smile.

    “Sorry, your perfume smells really good.”

    Ilaria’s brow lifted in surprise, and then she shook her head and took Chris’s records from the end of the bed.

    “Teenagers, sorry, about them,” Connor said with a sigh.

    “I have two at home, I know how it is,” Ilaria said.

    She returned the clipboard to the end of the bed and smiled at Chris.

    “I think you can go home.  If your father comes with me to the front desk, we can get you on your way.  Remember, no more accidents.”

    “But I like seeing you Doc,” Chris complained.

    She chuckled and started to walk away.

    Rory moved to stop her, curious about that scent.

    “Doctor Takeda—

    “Please, call me Dr. Ilaria,” she said.  “Dr. Takeda is my husband.”

    “Are you new in town?” Rory asked.

    “How did you know?”

    “Small town,” Connor said his tone full of assurance.  “Everyone knows everyone.”

    “I can’t wait to be the one that tells the next new person that,” Ilaria said with a laugh.

    Rory bit his lip.  He wondered if it would be all right to tell her that new people moving into Portento was a rarity.

    “Speaking of which,” Ilaria said, her brown gaze meeting Rory’s blue.  “Please tell me you go to Ashland High.”

    “I do,” Rory nodded.

    “He’s a senior,” Connor said.  “Chris graduated last year.  Why?”

    “I have a son going into eleventh grade.  He will be new and I was hoping…”

    “Rory will look out for him,” Chris interrupted her.  “Right, Rory?  Doc has been so good to me.  We should repay that favor.  What’s your son’s name?”

    “Milan,” Ilaria said with a wide proud smile.  “He’s fragile, but very stubborn.  It will be nice to know he has someone he can ask questions.”

    Milan, nice name.

    “Yeah, sure, no problem,” Rory agreed.

    “Thank you. Mr. Morgan, if you would come with me.  We can get Chris sorted out.”

    Rory watched his father walking beside the short doctor.  He looked animated, far from the gruff man he usually was.  Ilaria’s laugh was charming, and it had Connor smiling.  It was nice to see that.

    “If only she was single,” Chris said from the bed.

    Rory sighed, and turned to look at his older brother.

    “Why the hell were you racing Dolon?”

    “Don’t start lecturing me.”

    “Why not?” Rory scowled.  “It was your leg this time, who knows what will happen to you next time?  If you smash your brains out, no one can put them back in to that empty head.”

    “Dr. Ilaria looks capable,” Chris said with a sheepish grin.

    “Be serious, Christopher.”

    Rory sat on the edge of the bed, careful to choose the right side.  Chris’s thigh looked very angry, even as the skin knitted in the healing process.

    “Don’t wrinkle your nose at my leg.  It was much worse,” Chris said.  “The healing process kicked in before the paramedics showed up.  I don’t know how I ended up under the care of Dr. Ilaria.  It’s a good thing it wasn’t so deep when she was working on it.”

    “Scrapes are easy to deal, she won’t know the difference.  Best to keep out of her sights for the next month or so.  She’ll expect to see scabs if you meet her next week.”

    “You’re right.”  Chris looked toward the door.  “How do you think she moved into Portento?”

    “Who knows,” Rory shook his head.  “I’m sure Dad will get right on that mystery.  Meanwhile, he’s freaking out about you.  Is this about Lori?”

    “Fuck Lori.  Dolon said some shit I didn’t like, so I challenged him.  Don’t ask me the details, he got what he deserves.”

    “Chris.”

    “I’m a Morgan first.  Trust me, Rory.  If I challenge a bastard, it is for a good reason.  Don’t push it.”

    Rory sighed, knowing there was no way Chris was going to tell him.  He patted Chris’s right leg.

    “Alright, but maybe you should talk to Dad.  Before he starts thinking you are losing it.”

    “I’ll find the time,” Chris said.  “So, excited to meet this Milan kid?”

    “Why?”

    “I saw you leaning into the Doc.  You must have scented something good.  Must be from the Doctor’s family.  A lingering scent from someone close to her.”

    “Whatever.”

    Chris shook his head.

    “I can’t wait for you to find your one, Rory.  I really can’t.”

    “What is that supposed to mean?”

    “I’m just saying,” Chris said with a shrug.  He touched the edges of his bloody shorts.  “Help me up.  I need to piss, and my leg is killing me.”

    “You can always do it in the bottle.”

    Rory got up when Chris scowled at him.

    “Will you help me hold it?”

    “Fuck no you’d enjoy it too much.”

    Chris laughed, and shook his head.

    “Just help me up, will you?”

    ***

    ←Chapter 1

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