Her King - Kingdom of Raultshire

I have not been home for seven years now, and nothing has changed. It is oppressive and dark, something I hope to change now that I am king. Every room holds terrible memories, and I can’t fathom moving into my father’s bedchamber, but a king must do as he should.

“Good riddance. May God have shown you mercy,” I whisper to the room.

My coronation was not a lavish affair, but a perfunctory one as it should have been in a time of mourning, but at the end of the day, I found loyal men who aided me in the first days of my reign, and I have rewarded them handsomely.

Now I just need a queen and an heir, but I vow to do things differently than my father did.

Chapter 1

Christofur

Raultshire

January 1875

I have ruled over these lands going on five years now. I am surrounded by enemies that would see me dead, enslave my people, and pillage this land. I cannot allow that. After a particularly bloody battle with Caerleon, the godless bastards to our north, I am bone-weary and tired of riding my horse, Dread. These skirmishes take a lot out both sides, so why we do it, I will never know. I take the road home, my most trusted and thankfully still breathing allies flanking me. On the way, we pass through the small village of Baileymeena. It is little more than a tavern, a few houses, and a stable. We have been riding hard for days. On a whim, I decide to stop for the night. I signal to Carlisle to ride ahead to the Lyon and Thistle. He will know what we require for the evening. We are less than thirty kilometers from Castle Corlach, my main stronghold, but something is pulling me here. The residents are not prepared for a visit from the king, but they are accommodating. Though they will not say so, I am sure they are annoyed. I would be.

After an ale and a surprisingly delicious hot meal, I seek my bed for the night. As I walk down the long hallway, many whores seek me out, never once bowing to me. The look on their faces says it all. Many commoners do not think of me as their king, and as much as I may want to have them thrown in the stocks, I can’t very well lock them all up. It really would not matter, since I have never been interested in that type of woman. They only want money or the position I can propel them to, whereas I want a queen. It’s better to avoid them.

As soon as I open the door to the small, stale room, I am greeted by a nice round ass in the air. She’s bent over, looking for something underneath the bed.

“Can I help you?” I ask, clearly startling her. She drops what she’s holding and turns around. Then she dips into a deep curtsey before staying down. “You may rise. What is your name, girl?” She stands up and stares at me. Usually, I see the disdain that crosses every woman’s face when they look at me, but I see no such look on her beautiful, pale face. Her long brown hair is a mess of loose curls, and she’s wearing a black dress with a white apron over it. She smiles at me, and my heart melts.

“My name is Braya, Your Majesty.”

“Braya,” I repeat. I am an educated man, but words are failing me right now.

“I was, uh, getting some soap for you. I made it, you see.”

“Soap?” I am having a hard time thinking about anything other than her.

“My father, the proprietor, said you were in battle. I may have foolishly assumed you would want a bath. I have brought hot water up from the kitchen.” I look over at the large tub she has set up by the fire. It must have taken her twenty trips, at least to fill that tub.

“A bath sounds lovely,” I tell her. She smiles and bows. She turns to leave the room, but I grab her arm, bringing her close to me.

“Your Majesty?” she gasps.

“Stay. Assist me. I have no valet.” I will do anything to keep her here.

“This isn’t appropriate, Your Majesty.”

“I decide what’s appropriate,” I answer simply, smiling at her. She shivers.

“That is not fair,” she whispers. “You’ll ruin me.”

“Not that long ago, it was an honor for the king to bed a woman, any woman.”

“I am not that kind of woman,” she says quietly, and I believe her.

“Then again, that king was far more handsome than I.” She frowns and lifts her tiny, soft hand to my bearded cheek. The touch is refreshing. No one touches me. It is just not done, but she has no regard for proper protocols if she even knows them.