They’d studied together at the academy.
Ryon had even helped the king to bed after a drunken night gone wrong. Never had Ryon seen so much vomit in his life. And he never wished to again.
At the steward’s nod, the guardsman wearing the opulent royal militia garb of red velvet, white fur, and silver halberd, opened the antechamber doors. Ryon entered the king’s private chambers. The room was a personalized mix of a study and a bedroom. The king worked long hours, often late into the night. He enjoyed keeping his work close to where he slept. Made things easier, he supposed.
Feminine titter, quickly accompanied by a softer laugh caught Ryon’s attention. He cleared his throat roughly. Two naked women, hair pinned high atop their head in curls worn with studded tiaras lay languidly on the king’s round mattress.
One woman was brunette and stared at Ryon like a leopard wanting to pounce. All the while she stared, she stroked the blonde woman’s stomach beside her like a pet. The blonde woman was lying there with her eyes closed and looked like she might be sleeping after a rather vigorous amount of play from the king.
Lionel “Lyle” Hargrowe, King of Tarlè, stood out on the balcony at the rear of the room. He smoked a thin, black cigarette and was reading some papers. The creases in his forehead were burrowed deep as he read.
Ryon crossed to him, ignoring the cooing calls from the female companionship on the bed. Lyle didn’t have a wife but he did keep a mistress, or several, as some royalty did. His tastes lay with the beautiful women of which he partook freely.
After his father’s fall into illness, Lionel had taken over the kingship. As king, Lyle had managed to stave off an unwanted marriage since his parents were no longer alive to push such proclamations onto him. He had never been quiet about his disdain for marriage.
The king’s head lifted as Ryon approached. He cracked a welcoming smile. Their friendship had grown deep over the years, becoming more of a brotherhood than a friendship.
“About damn time you made it. What’s kept you?”
Ryon took a cigarette that Lyle offered and lit it. He didn’t smoke regularly but this was an occasion for one. “I went to see Penelope.”
Lyle grinned; the king was unquestionably attractive to women with his shoulder-length coppery hair and hazel eyes. King or not, the man would never have a problem finding a willing woman to bed. He was fit from the military training he kept up during his few free hours. Ryon had been seeing him less and less on the training fields.
The news hadn’t been leaked to the public yet, but there’d been a possible Avagarian attack on a small home in the east of the kingdom. A home was ransacked, then burned and the male from the house, a devoted husband, went missing. It’d been a long time since an Avagarian attack. They had all begun to feel safe under such calm. The burnt house and missing person was a cruel reminder they could never drop their guard.
The sound of a sharp gasp sent him looking back over his shoulder at the two women. Honestly, it didn’t matter if their faces were pretty or not; their bodies were healthy and ripe and naked. That’s all a real man needed. Much as Penelope’s body looked earlier tonight at the pond. He ground his teeth as his cock jumped at the reminder of her. He’d felt her stiff nipples, had cupped the tight flesh at her backside, had felt her tongue caressing his with fervent ardor. She’d wanted him. Had encouraged him. He’d felt her come apart in his bare hand.
“Can’t say I’m surprised to see you’re looking sour this evening. I take it you’ve received your missive then,” Lyle said.
“You’re a rich prick, you know that?” Ryon responded.
The brunette was still watched him with ardent intent in her eyes. The blonde woke up and the brunette pulled the smaller woman against her like lovers hugging. The woman cupped the blonde’s rather sizeable tits and smiled, revealing a row of white teeth. Too bad she was wasting her time on him.
Laughing, King Lyle flicked his burnt out smoke over the railing. It landed on the cobblestone private courtyard below. “I won’t deny it,” the king said at length.
“Why didn’t you tell me beforehand?”
“And spoil the surprise?” The king arched an eyebrow. “Honestly, there was no easy way to tell you. Her name ended up on my dossier. It was my choice. So I chose.”
“Why her?” Bitterness rankled his nerve-endings like grated sandpaper scratched across the tongue.
“Why not her?” he challenged. Lyle headed back into his room without sparing a glance at the action taking place on the bed.
Ryon turned his back to the women, the brunette of which now had her mouth wrapped around the other woman’s breast.