No Free Lunch in The World

Brishor swung out of bed. He took a look at Chezzal, his General, tucked him beneath the fur and walked naked to the wash basin that was located near the window. Sleep was nowhere. Over the last few days, he was haunted by the dreams of Loreans being mercilessly pulled inside the forest that surrounded Pembrook and being killed, their bodies sucked dry of blood, and thrown to the wild animals. In the heavy darkness of his General’s room, he couldn’t shed the images of those mutilated bodies. 

He opened the window and the morning light that crested the tops of the firs, spilled inside. He grabbed the pitcher and washed his face in the basin. The ice-cold water felt good against his heated skin. Brishor tilted the pitcher and splashed more water on his eyes. The remnant of the nightmares disappeared with the coldness.

“What are you thinking, Brishor?” asked Chezzal, as he turned to look at his mate, dreamily, from the bed. 

Brishor gazed at the snow-covered mountains of his kingdom in the far distance. Dim lights still illuminated the small mansions that dotted the hills against hard and unrelenting snow. 

Dragons were not a large population, just a little over ten thousand. They remained hidden in their realm, which provided them with everything. King Brishor Oighir had ruled for over a thousand years and it was not until two hundred years back that he had found his first mate, General Chezzal. He knew that he had one more mate, a female who would carry their child. 

His mating senses had triggered, because on his last visit to Pembrook forests they had smelled her. It was a very faint smell but enough to put him on the edge. And now he craved her… 

He knew that Chezzal craved her too. There was a void in their heart that was growing deeper by the day. 

Chezzal was only ten when he was orphaned. His parents were found mutilated in the Pembrook forests and Brishor had taken him under his protection. At that time, he didn’t know that Chezzal was his mate. However, as soon as Chezzal turned eighteen, he sensed that Brishor was his mate and then there was no looking back. He was trained by the best soldiers and he had become the best dragon warrior, fit to be the General of the king. Chezzal had one big problem—his temper. He generated fear in his soldiers. But only Brishor knew that his temper was like a sword because he hated getting stabbed. He’d rather stab them. After witnessing his parents’ death Chezzal had never been the same. And the only person who was able to calm him was Brishor. It was his gentleness and patience and love that gave him all the solitude he needed. 

“Nothing…” Brishor replied, taking a deep breath in. He closed his eyes and opened them immediately when those images flashed back in his mind. Warm arms curled behind him. He leaned over Chezzal’s shoulder as he wrapped both of them in the fur. 

“You have just become the head of the Lore’s council,” said Chezzal. “I am sure that we will be able to find the leads.” He brushed his arm from top to bottom and kissed on his neck. “Stop thinking and come to the bed. We have a long day ahead. The council is meeting today in Napane at Duke Alburn's castle.” The meeting was called urgently to discuss who was behind all those killings and the duke was hosting it as the representative of the humans in the council.

Brishor opened his eyes to gaze at the white mountains again. He sucked in a sharp breath and said, “The humans are also affected by these killings. The Loreans often attack them because they think that it is the humans who are killing their people. Right now, there is so much chaos in the Lore that it is going beyond control. Who the hell are these people who attack the Loreans and draw the last drop of blood out of them? They aren’t even vampires. I had a talk with their king and he said that his people did not target the Loreans because they already have blood slaves!” His chest heaved up and down with fury. 

“I know…” Chezzal said. His mind went back to a memory that haunted him like ghosts… when his parents were drawn out of their mansion in the middle of the night by cloaked strangers and stabbed multiple times before being dragged away. His mother had hidden him behind a wardrobe to protect him and sealed him with her magic. He heard screams and gurgles and pleas and then… blood flowed on the floor where he was sitting. For the whole night, little Chezzal sat on the blood of his parents, dazed as hell. He had stopped talking for a year. 

Brishor felt him shudder against his body. He turned to him and wrapped his arms around his neck. “Shhh… We will get to the root of it…” Then he held his arm and said, “Come…” He guided him to the bed, walked back to close the window and then climbed the bed beside him. 

--- 

“Duke of Napane, Alburn?” Meryl asked with disbelief. A frown formed on her white forehead. She picked up her teacup from the table. She sipped once and as she tried to set the cup back on its saucer, the porcelain rattled. 

Valerie noticed that she was feeling shaky. She glanced at her bleach-white face. “Meryl, the Duke of Napane is a nice man. His wife has given birth to a son and they need someone to look after the house. She is unable to look after because her pregnancy was complicated and the doctors have asked her to stay in bed for at least a month.” 

“I see,” said Meryl. Her body felt stiff even as her heart thudded against her ribcage, unpleasantly fast and sharp. Her lace across her breast seemed to squeeze every breath short. She glanced back at Valerie. She knew that Valerie had all the money and could easily help her. But she wasn’t going to help her and the reason was that Valerie didn’t want to be in Judith's bad books. Meryl wanted secret monetary help. She had gone to several of her friends, but they all refused to help her outright. Valerie was her last resort. She was too hopeful, but when Valerie asked her to work at the castle of Duke of Napane, her hopes dashed like waves against tall and rocky cliffs. They would scatter around the cliff and froth with fury, but they were shattered. This is how Meryl was feeling at this time. Shattered, angry, hopeless and now scared. She had never worked like this and wondered what society would make out of her. She was a lady and Valerie was asking her to be reduced to a manager of the house. Well, there was no free lunch in the world—a lesson she had learned long back. 

“Alburn is ready to pay good amount for this, Meryl. He just wants a lady who can help him run the house. You see he is an important man in the society,” said Valerie as she leaned forward to pick up a letter from the table. 

Meryl stared at the letter in her hand. Valerie handed it to her. It was addressed to Valerie. When she read the contents, she tried to breathe around the suffocating tightness of her ribcage. The pay for the job was hundred gold coins per month. That much money could buy numerous things for at least ten families in her estate—equipment for farms, food, clothes, wheels for their carriages. 

Everything was good, except… except this uneasiness… the tiny seeds of which took root in her chest. 

“I think it would be wise that we keep your presence at Napane a secret from everyone,” said Valerie. She placed her teacup on the table and then got up to sit next to Meryl. She took her hands in hers. “I wish I could help you with money, but my father has tightened the strings of our treasury. It is difficult for me to take money without asking him, it would be impossible to ask for you. And you are asking for fifty gold coins. I just can’t—” she shook her head with a shaky breath. “I am so sorry, Meryl… I hope you understand my position.” 

Meryl’s lips tugged up in a weak smile that didn’t reach her eyes. She nodded. “I understand…” If Valerie wanted she could help her, but how could Meryl push her?

Valerie smiled. “So do you agree to go to Napane?”