Photo by Laine Cooper of Unsplash
Being thrown against a wall, an arm against her throat was unexpected, but Ezra just lifted an eyebrow, staring down her attacker. Behind the dark eyes and thick black hair of the tall male, she heard her guards shouting, “My Lady” and “Your Majesty” but she did not break eye contact before he turned his head to the side as those guarding her rushed forward. The wizard used his other arm to reach out, green ropes of eldritch energy sliding off his fingers to wrap her guardsmen, lifting them even higher than the six inches he easily held her above the ground with one arm.
After two children and over five years on the throne playing politics and its countless state dinners, intimate crony teas, working lunches, and late-night emergency-solving with snacks instead of needed sleep, her weight was no small thing and she shivered at the strength Malik showed. Still, it was time to end this. “Enough,” she croaked, lightly tapping two quick taps then gripping for a slow squeeze against his arm. Malik turned his head back toward the queen, his lips peeling back from white, perfect teeth in a snarl. “Enough,” she repeated with the little air she had left, spiting the soft word, her eyes narrowing.
His head twitched to the side with annoyance, but he let her and her guardsmen down to the marbled inlaid floor, her descent far more gentle than the quick cut off of magic which sent her men and women tumbling. When her red-suited guard moved to close, Ezra lifted her hand, palm out. “No, leave us.”
“Your Majesty!” Venold protested, as was proper for the deputy of shift. According to law, Erza only could be left alone in her quarters, and even then, they were to be searched every two hours.
She gathered her dignity, tucking her gray streak behind her left ear. “You, my council chambers,” Ezra commanded, pointed at the black clothed man and then to an elaborately carved door further down the corridor. Then she softened her voice to speak to the shift deputy, “Two on the door, plus one runner. No more than that.” The queen snapped a finger of her gloved hand against the dark red cuff at her wrist. “I am safe. This one is sworn to me.”
Malik barked a laugh but could not deny the truth.
Venold’s sword hissed as she sheathed it before drawing blood, the magic angry. The guard’s face was masked in expression equally angry. “He wears the mark of Oodom.”
“That he does.” Ezra snapped her jacket in place over her skirts. “As he should.” She raised an eyebrow hoping the young woman, recently raised to shift deputy could do the simple arithmetic of two plus two. Only one wizard who wore the mark of Oodom swore fealty to the House of the Mountain Knives.
Understanding did not light her eyes, but her head did bow in obedience. The older woman turned and swirled her skirts past the black robes, the fabrics touching a moment, blood red silks and silver embroidery against black linen and gold thread. The wizard smirked and winked an eye at the guard before following the queen. The guard gripped the silver-skull pommel of her naazeen blade.
If Malik had returned, Ezra would need to reacquaint her guards with their duties in relation to the crown’s wizard.
Mostly, just keep the hell out of his way.
She entered the council chambers, leaving the heavy wooden door open behind her and circled the octagon table to her seat, the furthest from the only official door into the chamber. The other one hidden by the tapestries behind her would have a guard shortly, likely Venold herself. But that didn’t matter to her as much as the young-appearing man gliding into the room. She pulled out her chair, it’s size and carvings as elaborate as the other seven around the table except for the delicate gold enameling on the crown on the backpiece, and sat on the hard seat. Her grandfather had all the padding removed from the seats to shorten council meetings, and her father and her hadn’t changed that particular discomfort after reading about just how long and often the now two-hour weekly meetings used to last.
Ezra studied the wizard as he closed the door and sauntered over to the chair with the heraldry for the crown’s wizard carved into its backpiece placed on her left side. Malik pulled it out, dusted it off, and then leaned into a causal sit on its sturdy armrest. His black eyes met her brown.
“You look well,” she said, her fingers tracing the worn track along the rows of crops carved into her armrest, “going up or down?”
“Down.” The wizard reached at a hand and moved her head to better see it in the light of the magic orb he had set in the ceiling soon after Ezro’s Keep had been built four hundred years ago. Her eyes closed a moment as she leaned into the soft touch. “You, on the other hand, don’t.”
Erza pulled her head out of his hand. “We can’t all be immortal, old man.”
“That much is true.” Malik sighed as his eyes roamed over her face.
She let him have his moment of nostalgia before asking, “Why are you here?”
“You invited me.” His black eyes became ice as he pulled out a small white piece of parchment that looked like it had been crumbled, smoothed, crumbled again, and resmoothed. He tossed the abused piece of paper on the table between them. “Bad form that.”
Ezra leaned forward and rotated the paper so the words faced her, a sly smile crossing her face. “I invited all my advisors and high-ranking nobles to the nuptials.”
“And how many of your ex-lovers?” he growled.
“All of them, of course.”
He leaned forward, his feet braced on the chair seat and his hand covering hers on the paper. “How many, princess?” His face was close enough Ezra felt his warm breath, mint, clover, and cloves carried on the angry words.
“You don’t get to ask that question, Malik, and it is queen now.”
“I get to ask all the questions I want, little girl.”
“No,” Ezra said firmly, pulling back to sit properly in the council seat, jerking her jacket into straight lines over her soft curves, “You don’t. You left eleven years ago, didn’t even come back for the King’s funeral. Thank you for the fire flowers though.”
“As I said in the letter with the flowers, I needed time to realign the magics in the land to the new royal.”
“And I remember my training when you had a white beard, it takes less than a month.”
“You actually paid attention during your lessons?” Malik moved back, sliding off the arm rest into the seat proper, then propped his feet up on the table. The black robe fell open to reveal brown heavy-linen dungarees tucked into calf-high mud-stained boots.
Ezra couldn’t help it. Her eyes slid up the revealed shape, his young thighs, thick with muscle, pressed against the stretched fabric, they stopped at the tied off fabric square at the top hiding something she had no business wanting to see again, anymore than she wanted to see anything else he had other than his face. She forced her eyes to skip the flat stomach and broad chest one expects from a working man in his mid-twenties. She met his smirk. She remembered that self-satisfied expression every time he had made her scream, “Sir!”
“I don’t know why I am surprised.” Malik eyes flashed. “You paid attention to all your lessons, such a good little princess.”
“You!” Ezra snapped her mouth closed, and breathed through her nose deeply, before putting on her state smile. “I take it you are staying for the wedding next month?”
“If you plan on going through this façade.”
“Again, you don’t have a say.” Ezra tilted her head sideways and lifted a finger. “Except, to tell you true, I am just following your advice.”
“What now?” Malik’s voice deepened as hers became stately.
“You said, if a royal is not married when they are crowned, they should marry promptly, to solidify alliances and remove questions of succession.”
“You have an heir already, if I heard right, without want of a husband. How does marrying this,” Malik turned the paper around to read the name he had already memorized, “debutant Prince Machell Leavend Roget Audaci of Spear Fields, favored of Jhu-oosh, help you other than a cute bedwarmer. He is what, half your age and a fifth son? He is cute, right?” Malik raised his eyebrows in interest.
“According to the portrait sent, and confirmation by two ambassadors who made the trip, yes.” Ezra shoved the paper at Malik. “If one must marry, and one has a choice, marry for beauty. It’s not like royals have personalities. They only have duties.”
“Ouch, that sounds like one of my quotes from when the bunions are acting up.”
“As opposed to the hormone-driven monstrosity in front of me.”
Malik smiled running a hand down his muscular, thin form. “But it’s hot. Tell me you don’t like it.”
“I liked it just fine when I was equally hormone driven, but I’m thirty-four, been the effective ruler since dad fell, or was pushed, when I was twenty-five, and the crowned head since twenty-eight.” Ezra’s state smile thinned. “I no longer have the personality to care about hot or liking. I only have duties.” She pinched her nose. “Is this a fast cycle or a slow one?”
“In other words, how long before you can trade hormones for bunions?”
“I think I might like the bunions more at this point in my life.”
“The last cycle up and down has been fast; I should hit bottom around the time of the wedding.” Malik lifted a leg to press a foot against the heavy table. “Then we will see about the pacing of the next cycle.” He black eyes sparkled. “It’s about time for a slow cycle.”
“Meaning?” Ezra raised an eyebrow.
“Normal aging. I get to stay young and,” Malik’s teeth gleamed as his voice dropped, “badly, badly hormone driven for eight or so years.”
Ezra leaned forward covering her eyes, pushing back her mostly brown hair, except for one gray streak on her left side. She swallowed before asking quietly, “And how long are you planning on staying?”
“Oh, you have an heir to teach the rules governing magic, and governing those that do magic.” Malik dropped his feet off the table and pulled the wrinkled sheet of paper to him. “That never takes less than five years.”
Ezra shuddered before lifting a state frozen face from her hands. “I have two heirs.”
“Two?” Malik lifted a hand to stroke a beard that wasn’t there. “I must say I’m impressed, princess. I could see one, a head turned since they didn’t know just how kinky you are. But two? How did you managed to get a second lover past the council and your guards after a pregnancy? We barely managed, and I had access as your old beloved tutor and your father’s faithful wizard. And even then half the time I had to use look-away or don’t-see-me charms.”
“They are twins.” Ezra said, standing. “I will send their care-keeper to your tower to arrange for training. Let me send a runner to have the staff prepare your rooms.” Circling the room on the side of the table opposite from Malik, she opened the door and sent off the runner, nodded at her appointment keeper, holding up one finger, before turning around to where Malik still sat. “I’m sorry I have to end this,” her lips pursed as she search her memory for the right word, “enchanting time together, but I do have duties.”
“And you are all duty, just like I taught you.” Malik rested his head above steepled fingers.
“As queen, I can be nothing else.” She gave him a state smile. “I’m sorry.”
“I am too. Tell your guard, I apologize for earlier.”
“My dear wizard, you always have an entrance as loud as your exit is quiet.”
He winced at the dig. “So how old are the brats, you know, so I can figure out what books to dig up to start.”
“They are ten,” she said as she closed the door.
(Words 2,074, first published 10/19/2023)
Series: Duty Calls