A Keen Eye

Spring, Lyle

Leif stretched his arms out and groaned with pleasure, there was nothing quite like the release Meli offered. She lay splayed on the bed before him, watching him with a keen eye. They had met on the journey to Lyle, and her company had cured him of the boredom of travel. Although he had thought to stop his involvement with her after they arrived, her closeness and availability had made that difficult. She was quite pretty, in certain lighting. She had a plain face with dreary brown hair, but it was the blue of her eyes that had drawn him in.

“Are you off to see the king?” She asked him, perched on the bed.

“Maybe,” Leif answered mysteriously.

He loved the way she doted on him, always looking up at him as if being a member of the church somehow made him divine.

“Is the new queen beautiful?” She asked.

“I haven’t seen her face.”

He was getting annoyed with her, despite a part of him understanding her curiosity about such things. He went to turn away, hiding his disgruntled frown.

She whispered, “I think I’m carrying your child.”

“What makes you think that?” He looked back at her, scanning her naked body for any noticeable signs.

“I have a feeling,” Meli grinned at him.

There was something magical about her smile, something that broke the barrier of seriousness in him, causing him to smile as well.

“I can’t marry you,” he said, still smiling.

“I know.”

It was true although senior priests were allowed to take wives and have families; he was only new to the church. And if he ever did decide to marry, he doubted it would be to someone like Meli, as much as he did like her.

“If it’s a boy –”

“I know,” she repeated, interrupting him. “If it’s a boy then I must send him to the Brotherhood.”

“Yes, and I’ll be able to recognise him as my son.”

“And if it’s a girl?”

Leif shrugged, finally turning away from her, a girl would not concern him.

Modest Aura

Spring, Lyle

Ryker Theyrn was finally going to have his own kingdom. He had been taken from his birth parents because of a mark on his cheek, and raised as a prince. It was a system that had worked for more than a century now; babies who were born bearing the mark were taken in by the church and later gifted land to rule over. The Brotherhood believed that those who had the mark were descendant from their prophet and hero, King Theyrn. Theyrn had gathered all the savage men and women, ending all wars and creating the empire of Glyndwr. Ryker was the first commoner born with the mark in fifty years, and his ascension to kinghood was finally here. The Brotherhood had chosen an island called Lyle, which had been inhabited only by a few mercenaries for several years now.

Ryker and his advisors had arrived barely a day ago; the land was very flat, consisting of diving valleys that stretched out toward the horizon. The island was small; however the open fields almost tricked the eye. The air felt cleaner somehow, and Ryker felt a swelling in his chest for the island. Lyle would be a good place, he believed, a good place to raise a family and live harmoniously, he would make sure of it.

“Sire,” Arni called from behind where Ryker stood. “Are you ready to meet your queen?”

“I’m not king yet, Arni” Ryker replied over his shoulder. “And she’s not my wife yet, so how could she be my queen?”

Arni laughed cheerfully in agreement. Ryker was not certain on his thoughts of the men the Brotherhood had sent to be his advisors. Arni – the senior of the two, had a large belly for a man sworn to serve the church. And the other, Leif, appeared to be younger than Ryker himself. But in a way he was relieved to be away from the constant gaze of the Brotherhood, as he was finally being given the freedom to become his own man.

“Sire?” Arni asked tentatively, appearing at Ryker’s side. “You’re being very quiet.”

“I’m full of thought,” Ryker answered. “What do you know of this woman they’re sending me?”

“She’s very beautiful,” Arni said persuasively.

“You’ve already told me that,” Ryker replied with a snigger. “What about her temperament? And her personality?”

The older man gave a desperate shrug, and Ryker turned away from him with a sigh. He supposed it didn’t matter, he had to marry her no matter what she was like. The Brotherhood had spent a long time trying to find the right woman for him, so he’d been told. Originally he’d been informally betrothed to Princess Neith – daughter of the High King Rylan. He wasn’t completely informed on why that betrothal never went ahead, but he’d never really imagined himself married to Neith either.

Ryker looked up hesitantly as the ramp was lowered onto the sand; he cleared his throat and nervously straightened his back and squared his shoulders. Three figures made their way deftly down onto the beach, each hooded and cloaked with their faces hidden. Two of the women stood either side the one who Ryker guessed to be his future wife. He stepped forward as the women came to stop in front of him.

“Welcome,” he said. “This is Lyle, and I am Ryker.”

“If you’re Ryker,” the woman on left blurted. “Where’s your crown?”

“He has yet to be crowned,” scolded the woman on the right.

Ryker nodded, hiding a smile. “That’s correct, I’ll be crowned once the building of the church is completed.”

“As it is written, ‘a church of the Brotherhood cannot be called so without the crowning of a king to bless the stone.’”

Ryker blinked and looked at the woman who had spoken; she stood with a reserved kind of grace and was noticeably shorter than the other two. Her head was dropped low and he couldn’t quite see her face, but Ryker felt the flutter of excitement in him. He swooped toward her and reached for her hand. She pulled away at first, surprised by his sudden approach, but relaxed her hand into his. 

“I’m Ryker,” he said to her alone.

“My… Name is Leda,” she replied shyly. 

He did not move away – he stood there waiting and watching her. She stared away from him, with her head tilted down. He still had not seen her face. Slowly, she began to inch her gaze up at him, and he waited patiently. He liked her already, for some reason. Perhaps it was the softness in her, the quiet and modest aura she possessed. Whatever it was, he told himself, he would have to send a thank you note to the Brotherhood.