I don’t know why I’m surprised. Drake doesn't join us for dinner often, although he does show up when he knows I need him. Which is definitely now. Yet he's missing in action.
A movement catches my eye, and I glance up to find one of my Domestics shuffling in, balancing some plates of what appear to be blueberry cobbler on his forearm.My favorite.
I squint at him, watching his steps as he approaches the table and delivers dessert. Mine first, then he goes to Lauris, then Gem. He seems a bit more rigid than usual, and I don't know why, which of course is driving me insane. Normally, I would know. I could hear it, and his thoughts would give me solace. But right now, I only hear murmurs, like a heart's cadence, and theunknownsets my teeth on edge.
Without glancing my way, the boy darts back toward the kitchen, brushing his silky blonde curls away from his face. My gaze lingers, and I can't make it stop. Seeing him, seeinganyone, without knowing their truths brings on waves of my own insecurities.
I'm no King. I'm no Head Priest. I'm just a fraud.
A scared boy running barefoot through the woods.
I shake myself out of my thoughts and take another sip of my wine. It's cool, crisp, with notes of apple and honey. A great batch from Carlito, which will certainly do good this month. When I look up again, I catch the tail-end of the boy Domestic looking at me with those big, sparkly green eyes. Like jasper, minerals found in the earth.Precious stones.
I've known Abdiel Harmony since before he was AbdielHarmony. I was there when he was born, actually. Well, nottherethere, but I came afterward to hold him, say a prayer, and congratulate his parents. I knew Jenny and Lars well. In fact, I adored them. Which is why it was so tragic when they passed...
I'm still not entirely sure I'm over it, and it's been seven years. Their little boy was shattered, naturally so, because they were good parents, unlike those Drake and I have known in our lifetimes.
Gina and Paul took Abdiel in, which was a blessing. I know they would have done so without me asking, but I felt a responsibility to the boy myself, what with some of the history... But despite that, I've always kept a special eye on him. From afar, of course. I hired him as my youngest Domestic when he was only fourteen, and he's since become a crucial member of the family.
I've come to rely on him, maybe unwittingly, and right now my frustrations are breaking me down. His eyes lock on mine, only for a split second, but I hearnothing. Then his dart to the floor as he continues bringing dessert plates to my wives, while my fist clenches under the table.
I can't deal with this right now. Where the fuck is Drake??
I endure more conversation with the five of them for the next fifteen minutes, remaining quietly pensive and not by choice, until we finish eating and adjourn to various parts of the house. Everyone goes their separate ways, and I decide to head into my lounge, likely in hopes Drake will show up.
He knows where to find me.
I saunter into the room and flop down onto the bed, covering my face with my hands.Silence. No echoed voices I've come to need. No hushed whispers of secret thoughts.
Nothing at all.
Scrubbing my eyes with my fingers, I let out a long breath.Where are you, brother? Can you hear me?
"I'm right here, needy. God."
I spring up, hands flying from my face to find the pale skin, dark hair, and unusual snake eyes I know so well. My brother from another mother, literally.
I smile, though trying hard to crush it. "I was waiting for you."
"Yea. I heard." He steps into the room, tinkering with things on all the dressers and shelves, as if he hasn't been in this room a zillion times in the last twenty-some-odd years. "What's wrong?"
I open my mouth to grunt that he knows damn well what's wrong, but before I can say anything, Kiara comes sauntering through the doorway with Alissa on her arm. She just walks in likesheowns the place, brushing past Drake and taking a seat at the edge of the bed, with Alissa so close she's almost on her lap.
"Good evening, my Lord," Kiara whispers, well aware I hate it when she calls me that, tucking her blonde hair behind her ear as she blinks at me.
"Can I help you?" I sit up and purposely try to put distance between us, though the girls aren't having it, leaning back on their elbows so they’re almost lying next to me.
"You can," Alissa answers, her fingers walking up the bed, inching closer to my leg than I'd like them. "You know you can. But you won't, and it's making us sad."
She pouts, her lips looking even fuller than they already are. I'm sure many other men would be driven mad by the temptation of that mouth. But for me... Well, it's more complicated.
Yes, they're my wives. Yes, I married them, and yes, I'm sure I should be entertaining whatever salacious ideas they've been concocting together; my two wives who secretly despise one another, though they have a tendency to work together on a joint objective... Like getting their husband to fuck them.
But I can't. We've been married for three years, and I still can't make myself do it.
Why can't I? What's the big fucking deal? Just stick my dick inside any one of the five women I've dedicated myself to in holy matrimony long enough to make a baby and shut everyone up.It should be so easy. But again, for me, it's the most complicated thing a King could face.
"Why don't you show him what he's missing out on?" Drake's voice slithers, quite literally, at us from the corner, and we all glance up. “It could help your cause.”