King Malcolm

Malcolm, King of Mirantia, looked through the window of his bedchambers and beheld his domain. The clear, starry sky and the bright full moon gave the terrain a dreamlike, serene appearance.

Malcolm, better than anyone, knew how deceptive that appearance was. There was conflict and danger brewing throughout the kingdom and even within the walls of his own Palace. For this reason, the king sat awake at this hour, robbed once again of a night’s rest.

He glanced toward his bed. His beautiful wife, Caroline, slept soundly, blissfully unaware of her husband’s tormented thoughts. The light of the moon fell upon Caroline’s gently breathing form. The bedcovers came across her body in a way that exposed her left breast, bare and inviting.

Malcolm suppressed a sigh. Even a vigorous session of lovemaking with his wife a couple of hours ago did not result in providing his body and mind their needed rest. And now, looking at her beautiful, naked, and inviting form, he felt a stirring between his legs that only reminded him that even his carnal desires could not remain satisfied for long.

Malcolm’s eyes returned to the window as his thoughts wandered. On the surface, there was much reason to be content. He had faithfully sired a male heir and a spare. He had a beautiful daughter who could be offered in marriage to any of his neighboring kingdoms in exchange for national security, power, or wealth. Mirantia, more than any other nation in the known world, had successfully avoided the bloodshed and chaos that inevitably resulted from magical beings and mortals living side-by-side, and this fact alone earned Malcolm the respect of nations far and wide.

And yet all of this hung by a thread — a thread that was in danger of snapping at a moment’s notice, and Malcolm knew this better than anyone because he had a secret. As sovereign of this nation, Malcolm knew many secrets, but there was one that held such dire consequences that it consumed his every waking thought.

Glancing again at his wife and reassuring himself that she was still asleep, he opened the drawer of his desk and retrieved an envelope. Opening it, and withdrawing a single sheet of paper, he read the words again. “Midnight. The usual location. It cannot wait.”

He looked at the clock. Thirty minutes to midnight. With a deep sigh of resignation, he made up his mind.