The Royal Affair

Chapter 6

Derek dressed quickly, the events of the previous night weighing heavily on his mind. The woman's lingering fear, the King's casual disregard, and the persistent echo of that childhood trauma all swirled together, creating a knot of unease in his stomach. He felt a sense of responsibility, a need to protect those who were vulnerable, a burden that often felt too heavy to bear. He needed to clear his head, to focus on the task ahead. The journey to the Summer Isles loomed, a crucial mission that demanded his full attention, a voyage into the unknown with the fate of Jericho hanging in the balance.

He made his way to the King's chambers, his footsteps echoing through the silent corridors of the castle. The morning light streamed through the narrow windows, casting long shadows that danced and shifted with his movements. The air was still heavy with the remnants of the previous night's revelry, a faint scent of wine and perfume lingering in the air, a ghostly reminder of the fleeting pleasures and hidden tensions of the court. He knocked firmly on the door, his knuckles rapping against the polished wood, the sound sharp and decisive.

The door opened slowly, revealing the young chambermaid from the previous night. Her golden hair, usually styled with meticulous care, hung loose around her shoulders, framing her pale face in a curtain of shadows. Her eyes, though still possessing a hint of their earlier spark, now held a deep weariness, a shadow of pain lurking beneath the surface, a silent testament to the night's events.

Derek could see the faint tremor in her hands, the way she clutched her simple gown around her as if seeking protection, her posture conveying a vulnerability that tugged at his heart. It was clear her encounter with the King had been far from pleasant, a harsh reminder of the King's callousness.

She tried to offer Derek a curtsy, her body trembling slightly, her movements stiff and awkward, her gaze averted. Derek, his heart aching with a mixture of pity and regret, offered her a respectful bow in return, his gaze gentle and reassuring, a silent apology for his friend's actions. He could see the lingering marks of the King's rough handling, the faint bruises on her arms, the redness around her eyes, the subtle signs of distress that she tried to conceal. It was a sight he had witnessed too many times over the years, a grim reminder of the King's flaws.

He watched as she stumbled down the corridor, her gait unsteady, her head bowed low, her shoulders slumped with exhaustion. He felt a pang of guilt, a familiar sense of helplessness. He had tried, countless times, to dissuade the King from his more... aggressive tendencies, to appeal to his sense of reason and compassion, but his pleas often fell on deaf ears, drowned out by the King's insatiable desires.

Shortly after, Francis appeared in the doorway, his smile wide and carefree, his eyes bright with a lingering excitement, his demeanor radiating an almost careless exuberance. He seemed oblivious to the chambermaid's distress, his energy a stark contrast to the somber atmosphere, his cheerfulness a jarring note in the quiet morning.

Derek's jaw tightened, a muscle in his cheek twitching with suppressed anger. He knew the rumors to be true. He knew the whispers that circulated through the court, the hushed accounts of the King's brutality in bed, the tales of his disregard for the women he took to his chambers. When they were younger, in their mid to late teens, Derek had witnessed the aftermath of the King's encounters firsthand, it was worse when he drank. He had seen the tears, the light bruises, the broken spirits of the women who emerged from his chambers, their innocence shattered, their trust betrayed. There were a select few who seemed to handle his... intensity, women who possessed a certain resilience, and Derek had often tried to steer the King towards them, hoping to mitigate the damage, to protect the vulnerable.

"Derek, my friend!" Francis exclaimed, his voice booming through the corridor, his arm slinging around Derek's shoulder with a familiar camaraderie, his touch almost possessive. "Are you ready for our grand adventure? The Summer Isles await! A land of sunshine and beauty, a land of endless possibilities!"

Derek forced a smile, pushing aside his lingering anger and concern, his expression carefully neutral.

"As ready as I'll ever be, Your Majesty," he replied, his voice calm and steady, his tone measured and controlled.

"It's quite a journey, you know," Francis continued, his eyes sparkling with excitement, his words tumbling out in a rush. "A month's ride to the Port, then another month at sea to reach the Island. A long time to be away from the comforts of Jericho, a long time to endure the hardships of travel." He paused, a hint of doubt flickering across his face, a momentary lapse in his enthusiasm. "Do you think we absolutely have to go in person? Couldn't we just send a letter? An envoy? It seems like such a… hassle. So much time wasted."

Derek chuckled, shaking his head, his gaze steady and reassuring. "If you want to ensure the alliance, Your Majesty," he said, his voice laced with gentle persuasion, his tone patient and understanding, "then it's best to go in person. It shows how important and serious you are about the agreement. It's a sign of respect, a gesture of goodwill, a demonstration of your commitment."

He paused, his gaze softening, a hint of mischief entering his eyes, a playful spark igniting within him. "Besides," he added, pulling Francis a little closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, his tone suggestive and enticing, "have you heard the rumors about the women of the Summer Isles?"

Francis's eyes widened with curiosity, his attention immediately captured, his interest piqued. "Rumors?" he asked, his voice laced with intrigue, his brows furrowed in anticipation. "What kind of rumors? What whispers of exotic beauty?"

Derek grinned, his gaze sweeping across the corridor, ensuring they were alone, his voice low and seductive. "Their sun-kissed skin, the impeccable beauty and grace. They say their smiles could melt glaciers, their touch could drive a man mad with desire, their laughter is like the music of the spheres. And I've heard," he paused for dramatic effect, his voice dropping to a seductive murmur, his eyes gleaming with wicked amusement, "that they taste as sweet as they smell, like the nectar of the gods."

Francis's laughter echoed through the corridor, loud and unrestrained, his eyes sparkling with renewed enthusiasm, his doubts banished by the promise of pleasure. "Then we shouldn't waste any more time, Derek!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with a newfound urgency, his movements quick and decisive. "A two month's journey is a small price to pay for such… rewards. A mere trifle compared to the treasures that await us."

He clapped Derek on the back, his enthusiasm infectious, his energy surging through the air. "Come," he said, his voice filled with a newfound urgency, his stride purposeful and determined. "Let's join the Queen to say our farewells, then we shall set off on our grand adventure. The sooner we depart, the sooner we arrive."

He turned and strode towards the Queen's chambers, Derek following close behind, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. The Summer Isles beckoned, promising both political gain and personal temptation, a dangerous combination that could lead to unforeseen consequences. The road ahead would be long and arduous, fraught with peril and uncertainty, but the potential rewards were too great to ignore, too tempting to resist.

They found Queen Laura in her private sitting room, bathed in the soft morning light that streamed through the windows. She stood by the window, gazing out at the gardens, her expression serene but tinged with a hint of sadness.

Francis approached her with a forced tenderness, his voice laced with a practiced affection. "My dear Laura," he said, his hand resting lightly on her arm, "I am off on a journey, a voyage to secure the future of our kingdom. I shall be gone for months."

The Queen turned, her eyes meeting his, her expression calm but observant. "I understand, Francis," she said, her voice soft and composed. "The kingdom's needs must come first."

Francis squeezed her arm gently. "Take care of yourself, my love," he said, his gaze shifting to her slightly swollen belly. "For you carry our precious child, the future of Jericho. I entrust them to your care."

He offered her a fleeting kiss on the forehead, his touch perfunctory, his affection superficial. Then, he turned to leave, his mind already focused on the journey ahead.

"Derek," the Queen's voice, soft but firm, stopped him in his tracks.

He turned back, his gaze meeting hers. "Your Majesty?" he asked, his voice respectful and attentive.

The Queen's eyes held a quiet intensity, a plea for understanding. "Sir Derek," she said, her voice low and urgent, "I ask you to ensure the King… behaves himself. He is going to be a father soon, and he needs to start focusing on more important matters than who he is going to have in his bed."

Her gaze searched his, her eyes filled with a deep concern. "You are a wise man, Sir Derek," she continued, her voice laced with a hint of desperation. "You know this kingdom is hanging by a thread. This alliance with the Summer Isles will help, but only a little. The King needs to start acting as one, and you are the only person he truly listens to. You are his conscience."

Derek's jaw tightened, his gaze unwavering. He understood the weight of her words, the burden she placed upon him. He knew the kingdom's precarious situation, the dangers that lurked on the horizon. He also knew the King's weaknesses, his impulsive nature, his susceptibility to temptation.

He nodded slowly, his voice firm and resolute. "I understand, Your Majesty," he said. "I will do everything in my power to guide him."

He offered the Queen a respectful bow, his heart heavy with a sense of responsibility. Then, he turned and walked out of the Queen's chambers, leaving her alone with her thoughts and her fears. The journey to the Summer Isles had just become more complicated, the stakes higher, the burden on his shoulders heavier than ever before.