THE MORNING AFTER THE KING'S BANQUET was like all other mornings in the summerlands; a purple dawn accompanied by a golden sun.
The banquet chamber lay empty as all the Lords and Ladies had retired to their homes after the 'late night's affair'. The cleaning castle servants however could still smell the musk faintly in the hall; the distended beddings and abandoned goblets alerted them as to the party held the previous night, but never in a thousand moons would the servants have guessed the so called banquet had being an orgy.
The Lords and Ladies practically fucked before each other.
Their screams and moans had risen high into the room until the very early hours of the morning. It was at the tolling of the Temple's bells that the dancing girls had finally peeled themselves away from their bronze male counterparts, sweaty and utterly satiated. The Lords and Ladies were then smuggled by loyal guards into carriages that carried them back to their Keeps.
Breakfast was held in one of the many dining halls of the Ivory Castle. The castle alone was a monstrosity of beauty: It had a hundred shined windows, scores of chambers that attended to various needs, a dozen spires that rose high into the sky with flags of the royal crest, and a single foyer that covered more ground than a small field.
The dining hall chosen for this particular morning's breakfast was a massive room with rounded walls, like an oval chamber. A large rectangular table was set in the middle of the room; made of a burnished blackwood, the table was overlayed with a silver tapestry that rested snug over its entire surface.
The royal twins were the first to arrive for their meal. The rowdy princes rumbled into the room, arguing over some tale amidst the efforts made by their elder sister, Esabel to calm them down. The boys were both nine years of age, while Esabel was a good seven years older. The princess followed seconds later and soon the children were seated; Esabel to the left-head of the table and the boys beside her.
King Arlon was the next to arrive. He glided in with a flowing blue robe and his gait was slightly springy. The robe sparked the blue in his eyes which seemed more profound than usual.
As he settled at the head of the table, his daughter turned to him.
"You enjoyed your sleep, father?"
Arlon met her eyes and struggled to hide his creeping blush as he replied.
"Yes I did, Esabel. More than you know."
He patted her cheek and she smiled at him. The royal cooks brought in the first course; a lush spread of hot cream cheese and browned bread. A great serving of roast lamb was wheeled in when the Queen walked in. Lorraine, ever so regal, had her suave air about her as she gingerly took her seat; to the right of Arlon.
Esabel noticed her mother looked happier too, and she wondered if her father and mother had tumbled the sheets. Their smiles were lit this morning. Her mind never guessed her mother had tumbled the sheets with another person, let alone a woman.
The children were totally oblivious to their parents affairs. In their mind's eye, their mother and father were knit at the hip.
The moment the plates dropped and the cooks took away the silvery top off them, the boys salivated, grabbing their forks. Their eyes held the delicacy, particularly the roast part of the meal. They were about to dig in when Arlon's voice stopped them.
"I don't think so boys," he growled. Their eyes flicked up and Tranin mewled.
"Why not, father? It's right there!"
Arlon leaned a little further in his seat and stared with set eyes round the table. Esabel looked on him like a saint; she esteemed him. The boys were indifferent; Arlon just took away their rush for breakfast. Lorraine looked away from his eyes; she feared he would detect her secret.
"Remember the champion of the arena?" he began, looking across the table.
Taroth was the first to quip up. His eyes held fire as he spoke and his peach hair tumbled on his head.
"Yes. Silverheel. The warrior that bashed in Vandal's head..."
"...like butter," his brother added by his side and they both chortled.
Esabel frowned at them from her place beside Arlon.
"The Death Games are no joke. You shouldn't delight at such gore, let alone a man's death."
The boys didn't reply but Tranin lowered his head and mouthed softly to his brother. He'd intended it to be subtle but his voice came out wrong and the entire room heard the words;
"Sis is such a pussy!"
The plates seemed to freeze at Tranin's words and the whole dining hall went silent. Even the few cooks loitering hurriedly walked away.
"Excuse me!" Esabel fired. "Did you little brat just call me a pussy?" The boys knew to remain silent and Esabel turned to Arlon. "Father, did you hear what Tranin called me?" Arlon didn't reply and she nudged. "Father?"
"Enough, Esabel!" Lorraine growled from her place. Her voice held command as she turned to Tranin. "Never derogate a woman with such vulgar tongue. Now, apologize to your sister."
"Sorry I called you a pussy," he whispered, feigning dog eyes but Esabel still caught his lips twitching. She was about to call her father's attention to it when Lorraine went on.
"Good. Now you three listen to what your father has to say."
Arlon gave Lorraine a grateful smile before turning once more to the table.
"As I was saying, Silverheel is to become a ward of this family."
This time, even Lorraine went stiff in her position. A silence ensued as Lorraine became lost in Arlon's words. Silverheel was the only person who knew she'd slept with Rebelle. If he was to talk...
It was Esabel who broke the silence.
"Should I understand you father? You want a warrior who smashes people's skulls to become part of our family. You want to adopt a killer?"
Arlon waited a while before replying.
"Yes, I want him to become part of this family." He paused for a second. "...and he's not a killer. He had to kill. There's a difference. Killers do it for sport. Silverheel is a gladiator."
"Whatever you say, father?" Esabel muttered with a sarcastic smirk. Arlon fired her a look and the grin faded.
"Should I ask how long you've know this mysterious warrior?" It was Lorraine.
"No," Arlon rasped. "I've made my choice." He noticed Lorraine frowned at his tone and he quickly moved to pacify her.
"Love, I always seek your advice on matters of importance so please trust me on this. Silverheel will be good for our family."
At his words, the person in question walked into the room. Arlon stood up at his entrance.
"Everyone, this is Marsil. Marsil not Silverheel. Not beyond the arena at least," he added with a proud grin. "Marsil..." he gestured and began to introduce his family.
Marsil met each of their eyes one by one. Lorraine lowered her head at his gaze. He still had his silver mask on but she could feel his eyes from the hollows. Their new ward was the only one that knew her secret. Their secret...
Marsil met the twins' eyes, blue like their father's.
"Why are you wearing a mask?" Taroth asked. "Yeah," Tranin added. "Is your face scarred. Are you ugly?"
Marsil didn't reply the boys. If he revealed his face, he was sure they wouldn't be sitting down there. They'd be halfway to the door. Arlon introduced his daughter next and Marsil turned to her. When their eyes met, he knew he shouldn't have accepted Arlon's plea to live in the Castle.
Arlon introduced her as Esabel but Marsil was already lost in her eyes. A wondrous blue, a touch lighter than Arlon's; like the summer sky at noon.
Esabel was pretty, the kind of pretty that inspired only bad thoughts. The kind of pretty that made him want to shove her to a bed, hold her down to the sheets and make her scream his name. The kind of pretty described in the erotic scripts burned by the Graces. The kind of pretty that spun new levels of desire; submission, bondage, and sadism.
His eyes narrowed and he wondered why Arlon ever adopted him. Now he had to deal with the fact that the object of his desire was now his sister. His eyes traced low to her lips and he felt blood rush down below. She had lush lips. The kind that made him think of them wrapped around his cock...
Her skin was another thing entirely. Esabel was blessed. It seemed she had inherited all of her parent's beauty. She had Arlon's bold attractiveness and Lorraine's effortless sexuality. With these together, Esabel was a lad's midnight fantasy.
Her eyes held Marsil, moving over his body, and he could tell he wasn't the only one with raging blood. They glinted at his mask and he saw her eyes spark at the hollows in them. She loved the mystery of him.
Esabel arose from the chair and walked to him. Because of Marsil's height, her head came up to his chest.
"Nice to meet you, Marsil," she said.
Their eyes held and in it, he saw sin; flaming and forbidden. Marsil's lips twitched. He knew that behind all her elegant exterior and composed features, that Esabel was a freak. A mistress of lust itself, with pools of desire just swimming under her perfect skin. Gazing into her sky eyes, Marsil knew it wouldn't be long before they would loose themselves in heat.
Sister or not, Esabel had become his need.
"Nice to meet you too," he said, his voice a deeper rumble.
Esabel gave him a lingering smile. Behind the sexy turn of her lips was dangerous lust. The kind they both knew was deadly but hotter than magma.
She walked back to her seat and Marsil was careful not to show he followed the swish of her hips. The last thing he needed was Arlon to suspect anything between them.
Marsil took his seat at the table and they all settled to breakfast. A table swirling with secrets, and with a new one brewing all ready.