The Blood King's Bride
Chapter Twenty Nine

The men proudly walked into the palace hall, and the king counted five of them. An

outstanding one stood in the middle, and his uniqueness could be seen in the way he carried himself, as the other four only walked behind him, moving only when he moved. They paused in the middle of the hall, not making a sound. As if coming to their senses, the king's guards ran towards the men with their swords drawn. The man in the middle merely waved his hands, and the guards were sent flying all over the hall.

"Magic!" The king gasped, feeling fear slowly crawling over him.

"Your highness, we have come to receive the debt you owe us." The one in the middle powerfully called out. The queen removed her hands from the king's, jerking her head towards the one who had spoken.

"What are you doing, my love? Get behind me!" The king whispered, scared when he

saw his wife descending the throne stairs. He tried futilely to drag her back behind him. It was as

if the queen wasn't in control of her senses, as she was solely focused on the one who had spoken. When she had reached the last stair, she paused, still keeping her eyes on the man in the middle.

"Brother?" She whispered silently, her voice strangely filled with hope. The hall was

quiet. The king's eyes widened in shock. No one spoke a word as they were all trying to take in the situation. After a while, the man removed his hood, exposing a bald head tattooed heavily with dark ink in strange symbols. The man had an uncanny set of green eyes, and he smiled, revealing fang-like teeth by the sides of his mouth.

"Yes sister, it's me. I have returned."

*****

The next day came with the sounds of birds chirping happily. Calhoun opened his eyes slowly, soaking in the noise. After being in the dark forest for a long while, this was something he would love to enjoy. The sun rays poured in through the window, illuminating his floor and surrounding walls, though not reaching the place where he slept. He turned and sat up, stretching before placing his feet on the floor. He stood then walked over to the window. He didn't study the window when he had come, so he was curious about what stood outside it.

He paused before it and gave a silent grunt of admiration. The old man was more than what he seemed. He claimed that he didn't have necessities, yet behind his house was a garden much bigger than the one at the front. It was occupied solely by herbs and trees, a place that Calhoun thought would be perfect for resting. He turned from it and went to his bathroom to freshen himself.

He came out after a while, having not spent too long there. Deciding to take a tour around

the house, he opened the door to his room to leave, only to be greeted by the aroma of something delicious. He wondered who had cooked and where the kitchen was. He hadn't seen it when he arrived. He closed the door silently behind him, heading straight for the stairs. Before he reached, he checked on his guards, opening their rooms to find both empty. He walked a little, paused at Firoza's door, and then headed downstairs.

He was greeted with the sounds of chattering and laughter, and he looked to his left towards the sitting room. The hearth has been lit, and the old man, Firoza, and his guards were

currently helping themselves to a healthy breakfast. A heavy silence fell in the room once they acknowledged his presence.

"Oh, you are awake!" The old man called out, standing and then walking towards him. "Well, come join us." He said when he reached him, trying but failing to place his arm around Calhoun's shoulder. He finally settled for dragging his arm. Calhoun let himself be pulled towards the sitting room. His guards sat straight, with what seemed like guilt clouding their features.

"You can continue," Calhoun told them.

"Thank you, my Lord." They replied, the tension leaving them immediately. The old man

led Calhoun to the spot he had just vacated. Calhoun sat down, and the man stood behind him.

"Sir Calhoun?" Firoza called out. He turned to face her.

"I hoped you had a good night."

"Hmm," he grunted.

"Well, I made sure to leave some food for you while we were sharing it. It turns out that our host has a lovely garden behind his house, and he was the one who cooked it."

"Oh don't bother. I couldn't let my guests starve now, would I?" The old man said, totally wallowing in the praise.

"Let me go get it for you." The old man scurried towards a room behind the door of the staircase. That, apparently, was where the kitchen was.

Calhoun found himself drowned in his thoughts again. He was sent to look for a wife, but he forgot the most crucial point.

How does one get a wife?

He gave Firoza a glance and immediately cast her out of his mind. There was something weird about her that he couldn't put his hands on. And for that, he needed to keep her close. After all, it's better to keep your enemies closer. For something that he cannot pinpoint, he'd rather hold it close until he understood it than release it when he didn't, only to come back and bite him. Besides, he didn't have any other feelings except for the strange one he felt around her.

He would have to go out and look for potential females. But for that, he would have to go to the city. He hasn't walked around the town enough yet, but something tells him it would be impossible for him to find a refined lady there. He needed someone that he not only liked but could stand next to him proudly and strongly. His mind wandered, wondering if he would end up like his father.

On the other hand, he also had much investigating to do. The outlaw city was destroyed, with no soul left except Firoza. And the man he found her with had a questionable attitude. He looked almost crazed at the time of his death.

He wasn't as crazed when they earlier found him.

Calhoun started to think about what would have caused it. According to Firoza, she found everyone in the village fighting each other. The man had also mentioned something about a demon, even going as far as to call Firoza a witch. He didn't think it was any small matter. He thought of the presence of magic. He would have cast that thought aside had he not been living

proof that magic did exist. Was it possible that what happened to his ancestors also happened to someone? Was it possible that another person had been blessed with power? Power enough to destroy a whole city? If that was possible, the four nations had a long road before them. It wouldn't be long before a new war started again.

The signs were all there. Even Damianos, the half man half beast, was living proof. It had been hundreds of years since the last magical being exuding such power as Damianos had been seen. Even during the previous war, no one spoke of any supernatural being on their way home back to the Blood Kingdom. It was strange that one suddenly appeared.

He made a mental note to ask the old man about any strange occurrence during the last

few weeks. He would also ask him how one gets a wife in this place.

"Here you go." The old man said, walking over to him. He carried with him a small table

which he placed in front of Calhoun. He placed Calhoun's dish atop it.

"What do you think?" He asked, pride engulfing his whole face.

Calhoun looked at the concoction before him. It was a mixture of some herbs and vegetables, and it not for the aroma, Calhoun would have deemed it unpalatable just for the arrangement. He took a spoonful and brought it to his mouth. Before he ate, he brought his eyes

up, noticing that they were all staring at him expectantly. He ignored them and ate the food that was served to him.

He chewed slowly, taking in all the essence of the food. He continued chewing, and they

all continued looking at him, waiting for his take on the food.

"It is... good."

A collective sigh was drawn as the old man clapped happily while Calhoun continued to eat his food.

The Kingdom of Neba.

The Red Queen's restaurant...

Weeks had passed since Elena was found. She had been paying daily visits to her grandparents, who loved her company and couldn't wait for her to visit. Her grandmother had regained her strength, and even though she wasn't at her peak, she was stronger than most had expected, which according to the king, was a lot. For someone who had been bedridden for years, she carried herself around the castle as if it was a mere cold she was struck with. The king couldn't be anymore happier, wishing that Elena could just stay at the castle if it would help her grandmother become better faster.

Elena was at the castle, carrying out her daily visits to her grandparents. Words had gone out that Elena was the king's granddaughter, and the number of people who swarmed the red queen's restaurant was uncountable. The king helped them by providing them with extra hands, and Mac couldn't have been more grateful. Even Wazir couldn't help but be thankful, claiming that were it not for the food he got to eat at the end of the day, he would have collapsed from fatigue and would use it as an excuse not to work again.

Forest was also stressed out, but his suffering worked in the restaurant's favor. If women came before just to peer upon his handsomeness, they came to study how he worked and stressed himself out. Elena remembered when a female customer sighed upon seeing forest stretch and clean his sweat. The woman had whispered about nothing compared to a handsome man that worked hard. Then the woman made a brazen remark about how she could only imagine him in bed. If he would be as hard-working as he was then. The women with her blushed profusely, fanning themselves with their feather hand-fans while giggling.

Elena shook her head. She didn't know if she should be concerned for Forest or to thank him. He was the one who had brought it upon himself with his excess flirtations, so she could only be happy about the number of customers he brought in with his actions. She made her way toward her grandmother's room. The hyacinths were still there, but the environment was lively, unlike when she first came there. Maids could be seen walking around the wing, holding different pieces of fabric and material. Elena sighed. The queen must be decorating.

Again.

Elena had once asked her grandfather if he was tired of the continuous change of wallpapers. The king laughed and said it was far better than the queen being immobile. She entered the room, pausing when she saw its state of disarray. Her grandmother was seated by her bedside, surrounded by fabric and coloured paper pieces. Maids were around her, picking up the abandoned pieces or handing her new ones.

A maid bumped into her, causing the queen to notice her arrival.

"I'm sorry." The maid bowed and apologized, making her way quickly into the queen's room. Elena still wasn't used to people bowing to her. She had grown up without receiving that kind of respect from people.

"Elena," her grandmother called out. Elena made her way toward her. When she reached, she hugged her grandmother, causing the old woman to smile brightly.

"My beautiful dear," she said, holding Elena to her front to see her clearly.

"Let me see how you are." The queen did that every time she visited. It was like she

wanted to imprint her image daily in her head.

"I should be saying this, grandmother. You are just recovering, you shouldn't be stressing

yourself."

"Oh, posh!" Her grandmother said, waving her hands. "I am far better than I look, thank

you very much. Now, it's good that you are here. I would have loved to keep you for a while, but your grandfather and your uncle await you in the king's study."

Elena looked at her curiously. "Do you know the reason for the unexpected call?"

Her grandmother shook her head. "When you go down, they would tell you. Now hurry

on, but before you go..." She dragged Elena down, placing a soft kiss on her head.

"The heavens be with you." She said, her eyes clouded with mystery. Elena hugged her grandmother one last time.

Had she looked back, she would have noticed the extreme sadness that glistened in her grandmother's eyes.