Shackled Sorceress

Chapter 6 - Pillow Talk

For as long as Kalliope remembered, she had trouble sleeping. This might or might not have to do with the attempts on her life, starting when she was five. A Sorceress was rare and prized, but was also a great threat to all and any opposing force. Since she was a child, there had been too many accounts of assassins and kidnappers trying to lay hands on her.

Naturally, Kalliope killed most of them. Earlier on. When she was young, her magic lashed out uncontrollably when she was in danger. The casualty numbers were high. Though it saved her, it did scarred Kalliope for life. She didn’t swear off killing, but she also tried her best to subdue that terrifying side of her magic. 

One good thing that came out of the c*****e was that people knew not to mess with the Witch-child. The attempts on her life became craftier and more thought-out, but so was security around the Princesses’ Wing in the palace. 

That did little to help her sleep better at night, however.

Having Malus, a complete stranger in her bed, worsened Kalliope’s insomnia.

She lied like a plank. Eyes wide open, arms flush against her body, Kalliope didn’t even dare to move. She stared up at the dark silhouette of her canopy, knowing that would not be any rest for her tonight.

On the contrary, Malus tossed and turned constantly. His body bulk made her bed creak with every movement, and he couldn’t seem to position himself right, as he shifted every few minutes or so. After Malus attempted to fluff (or beat up) his pillow for the tenth time, Kalliope blew out a frustrated breath.

“Would you mind? Some of us are trying to sleep here.”

To her surprise, Malus grumbled back, “What do you think I’m trying to do?”

Guess someone wasn’t as charming as he played himself to be, in the face of sleeplessness.

“If you find my bed unsuitable to your preferences, we have a range of guest rooms for you to choose from.”

“Ha ha.” His laugh was humorless, “Nice try, but I am not going to leave my wife’s side on our first night together.”

They sunk into an uncomfortable silence. It was Malus who broke it this time, with a sigh of his own.

“It’s too soft. The bed.”

Kalliope raised an eyebrow, even though Malus wouldn’t be able to see it.

“I have never heard anyone complain about a bed being too soft.”

Much less from a Prince. Kalliope had expected Malus to have grown up the same way as she did, as thus used to such luxuries. 

His chuckle was dry, “Perhaps I’ve been on the field for too long.”

Ah. War-Prince.

“I can understand being used to a harsher environment, as you are forced to live it. But wouldn’t the tent of a Prince be provided with more luxury?”

Rolling over, Prince Malus propped his elbow up, supporting his head to peer down at Kalliope.

“I wouldn’t dream of bringing comfort to a warzone, Princess. Anything unnecessary will only take up limited space, and burden the army. We all fight on the same battlefield, risking our own lives. A tent of my own is enough. It would not be fair to my men, otherwise.”

Tilting her head so she could look into Malus’ eyes, brightly reflecting the hearth, Kalliope was curious.

“But your life is not equal to a mere soldier. You have an entire army willing to risk their lives for yours.”

He huffed out a soft laugh, “Perhaps, but as they say...It’s the thought that counts.”

They sunk into silence for a moment. Not quite as uncomfortable as before.

“...Do you travel for your conquests often?”

“As often as the Emperor wills it.”

“Would I be expected to wait for your return, then?”

She tried not to show it, but there was a note of disdain in Kalliope’s voice. Sharp as Malus was, he seemed to notice immediately.

“Why? Would you like to accompany me to the field, then?”

That certainly had Kalliope taken aback.

“Am I allowed to??”

“But of course. You are not only my wife, but also the famous Sorceress Princess. I reckon your presence by my side would be greatly welcomed, not to mention striking fear into the hearts of our enemies.”

Now that wasn’t something Kalliope had considered. In the haste of her marriage with Malus, she hadn’t thought about who her husband was, and what he was known for. Aleria wasn’t a kingdom known for its military strength like Caelora, in fact, they hadn’t gone to war in a hundred years, with only the occasional, small disputes at the borders with Imgroth and Alari. 

Caelora had always been a potential threat to Aleria and all kingdoms this side of the world. Now that Kalliope thought about it, the potential of Malus leading an army against her own country if she had turned him down would have been too high of a risk to take.

Kalliope didn’t know how to think about that prospect.

“Do you...like war?”

Malus seemed to be taken aback by that question, judging by how his eyes widened. But Prince soon recovered with a chuckle.

“I thrive in battle, that I will not deny. However, only the foolish and those who do not know better want war.”

This one certainly was a treasure trove of surprises, wasn’t he?

“Is conquest not Caelora’s more...successful business?”

The barb in her tongue certainly didn’t go unnoticed, “You wound me, Princess. But as successful as that business might be, Caelora is also known for our masterful crafters. Or was. It seems our fearsome reputation precedes us, and as many become drawn to the glory of war, many either abandon their trades in peaceful time, or simply perish.”

Kalliope blinked, “And you, the War-Prince, dislike this?”

“You certainly are sharp.” The corner of his mouth curled up, but the smile did not reach his eyes, “I admit, I was the one who started this path for our Empire. However, as more lands were acquired and more victories met, it came to my attention that ruling over such vast lands requires more than just a large army.”

So he wasn’t just a brute after all.

“Are you saying that you, the famed Prince Malus and your Emperor, his Holiness Erus, are incapable of controlling the lands you conquered?”

Something shifted in Malus’ expression, “As much as I enjoy your honesty, I would be more careful about what comes out of my mouth when we reach Caelora. Insolence is not well-looked upon by His Holiness.”

“Isn’t that the same story everywhere.” Kalliope huffed, “You needn't worry, Prince. I know enough to understand when I should keep my head down and my mouth shut.”

Malus regarded her with a smile, soft enough for Kalliope to avert her eyes, “And this is why I consider myself lucky.”

She didn’t know how to respond to that. Scheming, calculations and transactions, Kalliope could deal with. Intimate feelings...that she tended to veer the other way.

Before Kalliope could find something witty to retort however, she felt fingers threading into her hair. Flinching, she glared up at Melas, whose movement had paused.

“What are you doing?”

He gave her an one-shoulder shrug, “I figure at least one of us should get some rest. This is your room. Your home. It would be easier for you to sleep than I.”

“Try again.” Kalliope huffed, aware that Malus’ fingers had started massaging her scalp again, “Regardless of where I am, it is always difficult for me to sleep. Much less with another person in the room.”

Malus raised an eyebrow, “Why is that, pray tell?”

“Assassins.”

His hand twitched, “Because you are a Sorceress.”

“Yes.”

“When did it start?”

“Since I was five. Earlier, perhaps, but that I cannot remember.”

“Do you know who sent them?”

“Everyone, I suppose.” Though at odds with it at first, Kalliope started to find the motions of Malus’ hand somewhat relaxing, especially with the warmth he seemed to radiate. The topic they were discussing kept her up, however, “Aleria isn’t known for might, but we hold the best trading routes this side of the sea. The only reason why we haven’t been invaded yet was because of our strategic fortresses, and the Vandorian Mountains covering our back.”

A glint of mischief sparkled in Malus’ endless blue eyes, “And because of your mother’s reputation.”

“Ah, yes.” Kalliope’s chuckle was light, “The Fae Queen of the Sea. Everyone is afraid of retaliation from the deep should a hair on her silver head is harmed.”

Malus curled a finger around a lock of Kalliope’s own silver hair, “And is that true, my Sorceress Princess?”

She smirked up at him, “I don’t know. How about you test that theory?”

Kalliope could feel his chuckle, rumbling next to her, “As tempting your challenge might be, I do believe it would be foolish to try and test our young alliance.”

“What a shame.” She muttered, hiding a yawn, “And here I thought the War-Prince was supposed to be fearless.”

“Now, now, my dear Kalliope.” Malus leaned closer, his palm soothing against her hair, “You should consider rest first, before plotting for world domination.”

“No rest for the wicked.” Kalliope hummed, this time unable to stifle her tiredness.

“Ah, so they say. But even the most wicked of us needs to shut his eyes, sometimes.”

Kalliope made a muffled response. As she drifted off to sleep, she felt his lips touched her brows, gentle like a pair of butterfly wings.