Interlude – King Magnus Aaberg, The White Bear, Protector of Winter’s Realm #2
“Go to the harem. Find me the nymph with pink hair and large breasts. Bring her to my chambers.” King Magnus did not turn as he spoke to his guards.
The sounds of footsteps dimmed. Only one guard followed him to his suite.
When they arrived, the king opened his own door.
“Have the nymph wait until I call her in.”
“Yes, Majesty.”
The king let himself into his chambers and went right to the table heavy with the finest Summer Isle wines. The best spirits from the Dragon Kingdom too. He selected one of those fiery spirits, poured himself a large glass, and drank.
“Bleeding Armenils.” He turned, preparing to disrobe and his heart, usually so cold it was nearly frozen, skipped a beat.
He was not alone in his chambers.
“Warden Roar,” Magnus said with forced calm as he took in the high lord with a goblet of wine in his hand and a calculating glint in his eyes.
Half of Roar Lisika’s face bore a hideous scar, as though someone had shoved a hundred pebbles into his cheek. It had not been like that when the Warden of the West fled Avaldenn in the dead of night.
“I’ve been looking for you.”
Roar gave a half smile that made the king’s grip tighten on the goblet. “Have you, Majesty?”
The warden possessed no weapon, not that the king was foolish enough to believe that meant he was safe. Lord Roar could shift into a great beast. And, like King Magnus, the Warden of the West controlled winter magic. Not as completely as the king, but it was still a factor to keep in mind.
The king tugged on his power, ready to attack should he need to, and the temperature in the room plummeted.
Roar chuckled and swirled the wine. “My king, I have no desire to fight.”
“Then why, pray tell, are you in my rooms?”
“I have information that you’ll want to know. Information I didn’t want anyone else hearing, hence I thought it best I wait here for your return.”
So sure, so cocky. Then again, he always had been. All Lisikas were like that.
“How did you get in?” King Magnus asked.
His Clawsguard usually followed him, but when he was gone, his door was warded to not let anyone aside from himself and select slaves inside to clean.
Roar gestured to the window, left open but a crack. “You should close that. Frostflies might get in.”
The king’s eyes widened. He’d known for many turns that the warden shifted into a monstrous snow leopard. He’d heard from Lord Riis that Roar had also achieved the form of great antlered hart too, though that had only been in the last two turns.
“You have a third form?”
“Born of necessity,” Roar drawled. “As you know, since a young age, my wings have not been functional. However, very recently, I found myself somewhere dark and deep within the ground. No one knew I was there, so I needed to get myself out.” He lifted the hem of his pants to reveal a metal leg.
Then Roar turned, and the king swallowed.
The warden’s wings were shorter and more mangled than before.
“The fall almost took my life, but shifting boosts my healing abilities. I had enough power to shift and fly out of the dark and dank. Once safe, I shifted again and again and again, rotating between my forms and healing myself more each time—to a point, of course. Some damage, like my leg and the wounds on my face, were irreversible, but I made it home and to my healer, who minimized the rest of the damage as best she could. The process took many days, so I’ve only just arrived back to your wonderful city despite flying on my fastest gryphon. No longer could I wait, you see.”
Magnus stared at the warden. He seemed sincere. And the story was intriguing and in line with what he knew of shifting powers. “What is it then?”
Roar went to the table and poured himself another glass of summer wine.
He sipped the goblet. Sighed. “You always received the best vintages, Majesty. I dare say you pluck them off the boats from the Summer Isles before the rest of us can even try to breathe the sweet, warm air caught in those sails.”
“My patience is running thin. Give me this news or I shall send you to the dungeons like I have planned to do these past weeks.”
“Ah, about that. This information will buy my freedom. It is worth it. Worth a crown, I’d say.”
The king’s heart froze. Nothing in Roar’s face or standing indicated he meant a crown for himself. But they all knew the rebels continued to spout off about an heir. Had Roar learned who it was? How?
“If it is worth so much, I vow to not harm you, Warden Lisika.”
Roar did not seem worried. Rather, his smug smile grew. “I want more.”
“More than your freedom when I have called for your treasonous head?”
“Indeed. I will keep my lands and title. I will also hold an advisory position to the Crown.”
The skin on the back of the king’s neck tightened. Only information about the rebels—the location of where they stayed—could be so valuable to him.
“Lastly, I wish for a formal betrothal and quick wedding to your daughter—Princess Saga. Within a moon, I’d like to be wed.”
Ire stirred in the king’s chest. The day Saga had been born, many debated over who she’d wed. It did not matter if she turned out to be the most powerful of his younglings and hence, the heir, or not. A princess was always a valuable piece of a king’s power.
House Lisika, the only surviving member of which was young Lord Roar, was a natural suggestion, but King Magnus had never cared for the great house of the west. He used them, oh yes he did.
Any king worth his crown would leverage their mines and large army.
But trust and admiration never struck his cold heart when he thought of House Lisika.
So the White Bear had spurned Lord Roar as a husband for his only daughter, despite the Snow Leopard Heir being a reasonable choice.
“If it is important enough, I will entertain your requests.”
The warden sipped again, unbothered by the fact that he should not be here. That the king should have already killed him. “Well, Majesty, I bring the gossip of the century. After all, it’s not every day one learns that Isolde Falk is alive and well.”