Blood and Majesty

Chapter Six

- Syra

She had argued for the better part of an hour but Bal would not budge on the woman or the title he bestowed upon her so recklessly. What he did offer was for Ymir to rejoin their service as Nym's own personal physician to ease his unrelenting sisters' concerns. It was not what she had come for, but it was a better compromise than she had expected.

What was it about this mountain woman that had him so enchanted and unwilling to part with her? She had been seen around the palace, but not often and rarely during the day. It was as if Bal had her selfishly hidden away beneath his mattress. It was strange to see a woman share a Basils bed and not spend her remaining days in the harem. Unless she was a favorite. But to be a favorite you had to be in the harem. Favorites only came from the harem.

None of this made sense and he was either bewitched or more incompetent and careless than she had originally suspected.

She would find out.

She tasked Mal'tys with inquiring among his brothers where their Basil was keeping his skunk haired wild woman. Within the hour, he had returned with an answer.

Bal, now preferring to only see his new lover when he chose, had gifted her Ymir's suites the moment he removed the faithful old man from service. It was insulting and shameful, Syra thought.

She was embarrassed for poor Ymir.

When Syra rounded the corner, she saw the large, ornate doors to the physicians' suite open wide with a guard on either side like armed pillars. A bright rectangle of sunlight spilled from the door of the suite and onto the floor of the hall.

Syra knew the feeling of having your privacy intruded upon. She had grown accustomed to it over the years and with Mal'tys at her side she had managed to avoid having to deal with different faces outside her door every night. She was lucky in that regard. But you could never truly be alone.

This woman could not sneeze without someone hearing it. For an outsider, it must be intolerable. Syra almost pitied her.

"Number one. Number two. Leave us," she said out loud stopping at the threshold and choosing the one to her right to suffer her stare. Without turning his head, the guard she had just dubbed as number one darted his eyes to the side and met with her own. The suns light pooled over her, giving the bronze adornments in her braid a lustrous shine and her usually golden eyes were glowing a bright and fierce yellow. They were beautiful, alluring, and unsettling when they fixed on you.

The man cleared his throat, spoke carefully: "Your Highness, we have been instructed to remain and not to leave until told otherwise."

"And now you have been told." She retorted softly.

The man was visibly uneasy. "Your Highness..."

"Who has told you to remain here?" She cut in.

"The Grand Basil," The other man, number two, answered quickly in an attempt to rescue his fumbling friend.

Her head turned in his direction, quick, but smooth, her eyes now taking score of him from foot to head.

He instantly regretted his heroics.

She smiled and stepped close, her floral scent and sweet breath swarmed over him. The small mounds of her cleavage were flattered by the low-cut dress that was left open in the front down to the naval in a V shape of exposed, enticing flesh.

He closed his eyes and tried imagine piles of dead, rotting hogs to keep from looking.

Syra admired his resolve.