Sweet as Peaches

Sweet as Peaches

King Eiden stares up at the ever-changing bright blue sky and watches the billowy clouds floating on the tranquil sea.

“I see a hare bounding through the meadows.” Nuria's soft voice purrs into King Eiden's ear. 

“A hare? It looks more like a fox to me.” Whispers, King Eiden in reply.

“A fox? Since when does a fox have rabbit ears?”

“Since when is a cloud an animal?”

Nuria rests her head in the nook of King Eiden’s shoulder. She peers through her long, silky black hair, looks deep into the king’s eyes, and plants a longing kiss on his aging cheek. “You’ve caught the sun. The touch of summer suits you.”

“True enough, these fine summer days do wonders for old bones.” King Eiden strokes Nuria’s hair.

“Then let’s stay for a while longer, at least until the first snow.” Nuria stretches out, her long legs wrapping around the king. The lovers embrace beneath the creaking trees. She runs a playful foot up Eiden’s green silks.

“Snow. In Thiel? Winter’s kiss doesn’t come this far west, not for over fifty great cycles. Winter’s embrace is for the east, and Galt will be buried in snow soon enough.”

“Ah, snow. I’ve heard so much about it, but I’ve never seen a single drop of it.” Nuria’s playful foot wanders to Eiden’s crotch.

“Snowflake, my love. Snow stretching as far as the eye can see. Deep as the clouds.”

“Sounds romantic.” Nuria purrs into the king’s ear. “I have visions of magnificent castles sitting on soft pillows of white with roaring fires and cozy nights.” 

Nuria takes a big, squelching bite from a juicy peach. The sweet juices run down her chin as she sucks her sticky fingers. “We can huddle together for warmth and make a child. If I am to bear an heir, then we best make the most of this long winter.”

“Keep your voice down, my love. I’m sure the men have heard enough of our endeavors.” King Eiden glances to the corners of the orchard glade, where his armed guards stand on the edge of earshot, carrying long pike head spears that shine like gold in the autumnal sun.

“Endeavors? Am I such a chore?” Nuria’s thick eyebrows rise in skepticism. “Such a laborious affair. I am not so innocent. It is expected of me to bear an heir.”

“Aye, it’s expected. Every lord, man, woman, and child will wait for the news once we’re wed." Eiden gives a gruff cough.

“Then we should hasten with our activities. Unless, of course, your weary old bones can’t cope with such a bothersome chore.” Nuria’s hand drifts to Eiden’s rising crotch.

“It is no chore; of that, I can assure you. My love, we go back to uncertain times. I do not doubt our love. I doubt how my people will receive us.” King Eiden stares up at the carefree sky with troubled eyes.

“You’re having second thoughts?” Nuria’s words quiver in a whisper.

“No.” Eiden runs his hands through Nuria’s silken hair. “You have given me life, Nuria.” King Eiden sits up, his words trailing off as Nuria nuzzles and kisses his neck. “We have peace with Thiel, but back in Galt, trouble stirs.” 

King Eiden looks down on Nuria and rests a comforting hand on her slender back. “I received troubling news.” King Eiden reaches into his silk robes and plucks a small piece of parchment. “Lords and lands have been falsely claimed; Madon is making a bold move for the throne. My love. Galt is no longer safe. We are not like these fine Thielian’s with polite treaties. Galt is a scattered kingdom, with lords spread from the borderlands to the mountains of Kazuk.”

Nuria gives a petulant shrug and purses her plump lips.

More father to daughter, Eiden brushes a finger over Nuria’s soft cheek. “Before these better times, Galt was divided into seven warring kingdoms. Each with a claim for the other. We suffered generations of bloodshed, war, famine, and slaughter. It was my grandfather who finally brought peace. It was under his rule that Galt found a way to live together. My father united Galt in war, and in my rule, I finally found peace with Thiel. But at what cost? My own kingdom? I’ve wasted too much time in Thiel and neglected Galt.”

Nuria’s eyes blaze with a woman’s cold fury. “Is that what I am? A waste of time.” Her words spit like venom from a snake. 

“That’s not what I meant.” Eiden barks back in agitation. “You are the best of me, Nuria. I will not risk your safety and gamble with the safety of a future child, the future heir of Galt.”

Nuria sits up in silence as her eyes blaze with growing fury.

“I must return to Galt with all haste. There is too much at risk, and I will not risk your life for my foolishness.” Eiden runs both hands through his hair and stares down at his heavy, dull crown sitting in the grass. “If the lord’s support Madon’s claim, then—

“Then what?” Nuria snaps.

“Then perhaps it’s for the best.”

“My love. My king. What do you mean?” A wide-eyed look of surprise hits Nuria like an unexpected slap.

“Like I said, for the best.” A hard, resigned grimace falls on Eiden’s face. All youthfulness evaporates, and sitting before Nuria is a frail old man. “If all the voting lords support Madon, then it is better to have peace than war. I can’t hold the kingdom without the accession council’s full support; I’ll have no choice but to abdicate.” Eiden slaps his lap in frustration. “If Madon upholds the alliance with Thiel along with my terms, then I may be able to abdicate the throne without bloodshed.”

“Then we are not destined to be king and queen?” Nuria watches her dream evaporate before her eyes.

“I wish I could tell you.” Eiden places Nuria’s dainty hands between his own old bear paws, their fingers intertwining.

“Then let us stay. Forget your troubles. Talk with King Adal and remain in the safety of Thiel.”

“I am the King of Galt,” Eiden cuts in, “I will return to my kingdom and do what I must. We leave at sunrise, and you will remain in Thiel until spring.”

“So, this is your command, my love?” Nuria hisses like an angry cat.

“Nuria, it’s settled. King Adal has granted you a place in his court, under his protection. Queen Aina will teach you the intricacies of court and introduce you to Thiel’s elite social circles. We hope you and Queen Aina will forge a strong bond of friendship. It is all agreed upon. Adal will provide a small regiment of his own household guard for your personal safety.”

“So, I am to be a bargaining chip in your games?” Nuria slumps, defeat washing over her. “How long have you known?”

“I made the plan last turn. I will decide on Adal’s new union in the spring when I return. We will speak no more about this.”

“As you command, my king.” Nuria lifts her head and forces a feigned joyous smile. “Guards,” Nuria says, rising to her feet and clapping her hands twice. “Come, drink with us, for you are to return home. Let us celebrate this day. Let us drink into the evening. It is the tradition from my homeland to never say farewell on dry lips.”

“What are you doing?” King Eiden rises to his feet.

The circle of guards turns to face the couple.

“I am doing what needs to be done, my king.” Nuria dances before Eiden with mischievous sidesteps. “If this is our farewell, then let it be happy memories. Let us remember this night.”

“As you wish, my queen.” Eiden bows to Nuria and links her arm. “Come, men of Galt, you have been away from your loved ones for too long. Tonight, feast and drink with us. At the rising of the sun, Eiden pauses for effect, beaming a youthful grin from his withering, aged face. “We ride for home.” A half-hearted cheer emerges from the guards as they approach with hesitant steps.

One guard winces as he speaks, his clumsy words tumbling from his lips. “We ain’t used to drinking with the king and his, uh, queen. We’re on duty.”

“Nonsense. The king commands it from you. Isn’t that right, my love?” Nuria’s eyes fix on Eiden with an uncompromising stare.

King Eiden contains his agitation. “Men of Galt, you are relieved from duty until the rising of the sun. Come, drink, and make merry with us.”

The guards lay their pike head spears on the soft green grass. “As you command, my king.”

Nuria snatches a goblet of wine from the grass. She takes a long swig and then drains the cup dry. She tips the cup upside down for effect. Not a single drop falls from the goblet’s lip. “I fear we will need more wine, and lots of it.” Nuria rolls her accent with a purr. “Servant, don’t just stand there. Go fetch more wine.”

At the edge of the orchard, a young olive-skinned serving girl bows and scurries back into the main villa.

King Eiden forces an awkward smile. “Captain Aiwelf,” a tall guard steps forward, “you will remain in Thiel with Nuria. You must always be by her side. Should you encounter trouble, you may speak directly to King Adal.”

“As you command, my king, I will protect Lady Nuria with my life.” Aiwelf gives a deep bow to Lady Nuria.

“I know you will.” Eiden can’t hide his relief. “I trust you with all that I hold most dear.” Captain Aiwelf nods. “Ensure we are ready to leave before sunrise. We ride to the border of Ossan escorted by the king’s own regiment. Ensure your men are fit to ride.”

“Forgive me, my king. Is it wise for the men to spend the evening drinking?” Captain Aiwelf lowers his gaze away from Eiden.

“Wise? No, but your queen has spoken. Attend to your duties.” King Eiden attempts to hide his weary sigh.

“As you command, my king.” Captain Aiwelf’s unwavering eyes linger on Nuria, then he turns and strides toward the stables.

Later that evening, drums beat beneath the sweet peach trees. The men of Galt sing and dance with carefree abandon, arm in arm, swaying and singing up to the night sky.

“Men of Galt, you have such a fine way with words.” Nuria rolls on the grass in giddy, intoxicated laughter, her legs exposed beneath her fine silk that blows open in the breeze. 

King Eiden hangs his head at the crassness of his guards. “Now, let me fetch more wine; I want a taste of home.”

The guards give a loud roar of approval and thud back onto the grass on drunken arses. King Eiden peers at Nuria with narrow-eyed suspicion.

“What? Perhaps you and your men will be so drunk, you will not leave my side.” Nuria stifles a sob.

Eiden winces and sips at his wine in silence.

“Gentlemen.” Nuria stands tipsy, swaying from side to side. “Let me find my favorite drop. It’s from my vineyard, the finest in Aradesh. A taste of home for a final farewell.”

The servant girl steps forward from the shadows of the orchard with a bowed head. “Lady Nuria, I will bring the wine you seek.”

“I could do with the walk. You may accompany me.” The servant nods and lowers her submissive gaze as Nuria totters on drunken feet from the bright moonlit glade. 

Nuria stumbles out of sight, and her wayward steps become sure-footed, sober strides. The servant follows behind at a respectful distance. Nuria comes to a standstill and whispers over her shoulder. “Sister, it is time.”

“He suspects you. He is no fool.” The servant hisses back in a whispered response.

“Maybe, but we are out of time.” Nuria stares up at the stars. “Just be ready, Amelia.”

“Are you sure about this, Nuria? You’re playing a dangerous game.”

“Shut up and fetch the bloody wine.” Nuria barks back her response.

The servant girl, Amelia, strides towards the villa. 

Nuria takes a deep, settling breath.

“Lady Nuria?” The voice catches her off guard as she spins to face Captain Aiwelf. He peers at Nuria with a look of concern through the shadowy darkness.

“Captain Aiwelf, you startled me.” Nuria rests a playful hand on his broad chest. Her fingers play with his buttons as she gathers her wits. “Do you not drink with your own men?”

“Not all men drink, my lady." Aiwelf musters a solemn grin. “I serve better when sober and haven’t touched a drop since my twentieth great cycle.”

“Well then, captain, who am I to turn you into a drunk, but will you not share in a parting toast with your king?”

“Forgive me, my lady.” Aiwelf nods with careful politeness. “My father was a drinker, and my mother felt his fist too often. I won’t touch a drop of the stuff.” He brushes Nuria’s hand away from his chest. “King Eiden knows this only too well, and he will not ask it of me.”

“Then, captain, I suggest you resume your duties.” Nuria turns her back to the captain.

“I bid you goodnight, my lady.” Captain Aiwelf turns and walks with long strides through the shadowy garden back towards the stables.

Nuria puffs out a deep, withheld breath and glances back up at the radiant sky. She walks in small circles, letting the breeze brush against her face and blow through her hair.

“I told you, he suspects you.”

Nuria spins to face her sister, who holds a silver pitcher of wine. “I thought you meant Eiden.”

“No, Eiden can’t see past your tits and sweet cunt.” The servant girl cackles with low, mirthful laughter.

Nuria rolls her eyes.

“If only Coilette could see you.” The servant girl gives a mock pout, holding her breasts and beating her eyelashes. “Oh, men of Galt. Spit roast me in under the moon's silver light. The shame you bring to our family name.”

“Shut up, Amelia.” Nuria ties her silk gown tighter and glowers at her sister. “Now hold still.” She reaches inside her low-cut silk gown and rummages for a concealed pocket, then emerges with a glass vial of clear liquid.

“Is it enough?” Amelia peers at the tiny vial, skeptical.

Nuria spins the vial between her delicate, manicured fingers. “Enough to knock out a stable of horses.” She pops the cork from the vial and pours the liquid into the pitcher of sweet red wine. 

Nuria’s sister, Amelia, gives the pitcher a slight swirl and passes back it to Nuria. “You know what must be done. You must be swift. If questioned, you are running a personal errand of high importance.”

“I know what to do. It’s not the first time, nor will it be the last.” Amelia rolls her eyes at her sister and asks, "What of the captain?”

“He’s only one man. Won’t be the first, won’t be the last.” Nuria shrugs.

Amelia turns and walks into the night, towards the stables.

Captain Aiwelf spies the unfolding deeds from the deepest shadows of the orchard.

The boisterous soldiers of Galt laugh and dance as the drum beats into a frenzy. They sway as one, singing for their king.

“Proud and free.” King Eiden rises to his feet and toasts his guards.

“My king.” Nuria saunters from the orchard’s shifting shadows into the illuminated moonlit glade, back into the merry fray. “I fear I grow weary. A final toast, and then let us retreat to our private farewells.”

King Eiden conceals his blush as his guards raise their inebriated brows.

Nuria fills the empty goblets with wine. In the distance, on the vaguest edge of hearing, hooves trip-trap on the courtyard floor and then break into a gallop. 

The guards’ ears prick, but Nuria raises her empty goblet to toast. “To Galt. Strong, proud, and free. To King Eiden.”

The guards empty their cups, chugging down the wine and toasting their king. Eiden drains his cup dry.

“Forgive me, men of Galt.” Nuria wraps her arm around the king’s. “I must bid you farewell and retire, for our last hours are precious.”

Nuria tugs at Eiden to leave, and together they stroll into the villa.

The guards sit down, slumped together beneath the sweet peach tree.