Page 22 of The Last Knight

Chapter Nine

Even the dimness of the castle didn’t diminish the lightness in Gunther’s chest as he observed the proceedings. Two days since returning from the other realm and still he could feel the softness of Aubrey’s body against him, the feel of her plump lips against his. Each time he inhaled, he expected the aroma of wildflowers that had clung to her hair.

The woman was like none other he’d ever been with. Her cinnamon skin, dark brown eyes and full lips could drive a man mad. She was tall, perhaps five foot eight, a perfect fit against him as he was well over six feet. Then there was her hair, a riot of soft curls that ranged in colors from golden to rich brown. Everything about Aubrey was a siren to his senses.

“Do you agree with the punishment,” Kel, one of the generals brought him back to the present.

Two Torant warriors were being punished for the brutal beating of another warrior who, according to the accused, had annoyed them.

“Yes,” Gunther said, not caring what Torants did to one another. The species seemed eager to find any occasion for fighting and warring. The accused, who looked as if they’d already been punished, were dragged out and the darkness within him seemed to come alive at the sight. Thoughts of watching the torture gave him a surge of pleasure at what he was about to witness.

As long as he was able, he wouldn’t succumb.

He looked to the generals, behind them four guards each. “What else?” he growled, annoyed that they pretended what he said was worth anything. They would do whatever they wished regardless of his orders. Unless he interfered, which he didn’t care enough to do.

“Bring in the prisoner,” Joc ordered.

A Yori was half carried in and dropped to the stone floor. He lifted his head and spat at Gunther. No one in the room said anything or stepped forward.

Gunther waved a hand sending the prisoner and the two guards who’d brought him in rolling across the floor, landing in three heaps.

“Why is the Yori here?” He turned his attention back to the generals.

The generals watched the guards stand and once again bring the Yori forward, this time not as close to Gunther.

“He was caught at the border between our realms. Part of a patrol.”

“It is expected. We do the same,” Gunther said in a bored tone. “What made your warriors decide to take him?”

“They were overheard talking about an upcoming attack on our realm.” Came the curt response. “He was brought to be questioned.”

Gunther looked to the prisoner and delved into his mind. Mostly he was thinking about escape and his impending death. When he went deeper, the fact the Yorians were indeed planning to attack became clear.

“Do not kill him. Allow him to heal from his wounds but give him no healing treatments. Food and water, to keep him alive. We may be able to use him as a bargaining chip.”

The prisoner was taken away.

All others were dismissed except for Gunther’s personal guards and the two generals.

Joc spoke first. “We must fortify our borders. Multiply the number of Torants patrolling.”

“Already we have defense stations,” Kel added. “They will be manned at all times. But we need more warriors.”

Gunther gave them a droll look. “In other words, you are doing now what you should have been doing all along.”

The generals barely managed to restrain their anger, their nostrils flaring in annoyance, glares directed past him as they were not stupid enough to disrespect him directly.

“After the battle with Esland and the humans, our numbers were depleted. Master, you have not conjured additional fighters. And although we’ve recruited additional Torants, the numbers are still not where our army should be.”

Gunther stood and walked down the two steps from his throne, which he found pretentious, but nonetheless used to assert his station. “I do not recall either of you briefing me about the army’s numbers. As you are aware, I am not Torant and, although living here for many years, I was not privy to such information.”

The Torants were silent, unable to defend themselves against the truth.

“Go. Return tomorrow with information as to the army’s strength. I wish to know who was killed or is missing. Names of Torants and numbers of the conjured, if they had any.”

“Yes, Master,” both generals agreed in unison. They called him Master, not out of respect, but because they knew he hated it.

The generals turned to go, but he stopped them. “And…stop calling me Master. I am Gunther.”