One of the women swayed half-naked before him in a sort of dance, while the other stood off to the side of the bed, completely nude, her hands shyly tucked between her thighs. Bromir, propped up on his elbows, also half-naked, was eating grape after grape, his gaze shifting between the two. The second woman intrigued him more. She was beautiful, with red hair, pale skin, and small breasts. Such women were only born in Meihar, though this one didn’t seem to be from there. She lacked the telltale red freckles on her face—unless, of course, her father had been some barbarian, though most of those there were barbarians.

  The other, the one dancing in front of him, was more robust, with large breasts that drew attention away from her otherwise plain face. Her black hair swayed in rhythm with her movements, but none of this interested Bromir. The few times he had bedded her had made him lose all interest, and the only reason she remained was because of her shy friend. However, the older woman was starting to annoy him.

  “What’s wrong with this one?” Bromir pointed at the shy, red-haired girl, who now tried even harder to avoid his gaze.

  “It’s her first time,” the other woman replied without stopping her dance.

  “People may call my father ‘the Wolf,’ but I certainly don’t bite,” Bromir smiled. The girl tried to return the smile. “Garvin!” Bromir called out to the man at the far end of the room. The man shot him a dismissive glance. “Never mind, never mind. I won’t trouble you.”

  Garvin, as always, kept his distance from Bromir’s whims, but he always made sure to be close by to prevent him from straying too far off the path. Bromir had often tried to foist one or two of the whores on him, but Garvin always refused. Sometimes Bromir thought he preferred men, so he had even offered him a few of those, but Garvin declined them as well. Yet he insisted on being with him, even here, where nothing could harm him—except perhaps the teeth of one of these loose women. After all, he was the heir to the throne, and bearing bite marks on his neck would not be the most kingly of appearances.

  “Come here,” Bromir extended a hand, beckoning the girl with his finger. She glanced around, looked at the older woman, removed her hands from between her thighs, and timidly rose. “Come, come. I won’t harm you,” Bromir insisted.

  “Stand up, Elizara,” the black-haired woman spoke with an almost maternal tone, furrowing her brows before quickly returning to her smile. “The lord is calling you.” She approached Bromir and tried to touch his thigh. Bromir made her pay for her boldness, and she recoiled, clutching her wrist.

  The brief scene frightened the red-haired Elizara even more. She found herself seated in the same spot, her hands tucked between her thighs once again. Bromir stood up. He was naked, his gaze following her. She avoided looking at him. Instead of waiting, he sat down beside her.

  “You’re trembling. I can feel it. Why are you here? Why are you with the whores?”

  “To…” The words came hesitantly from her lips.

  “Yes?” He pressed her on purpose.

  “To satisfy all your needs, my lord.”

  “Well done. The madam has taught you how to answer. Is this your first time?”

  “No, my lord.”

  “The second? Your friend said you’ve never been with a man before.”

  The girl nodded in agreement. Bromir stood up before her and offered his hand. She took it, rising to stand before him. He was tall, and she only reached his shoulders.

  “It’s a pity you’ve become a whore,” he whispered to her. “You would have made a fine addition to the royal court. My Loren is beautiful, too, but having someone like you around would be an asset.”

  Bromir leaned in and kissed her neck, feeling her trembling breasts in his other hand.

  “Unfortunately,” he continued quietly, “everyone already knows about you. You’re just another whore now. And for you, a life beyond this hole of a brothel is impossible.”

  The red-haired girl nodded sadly. Bromir felt her faint sobbing. He placed his hands on her shoulders and roughly turned her around, pushing her onto the bed. All that could be heard was her sharp cry, which was quickly stifled. The older woman moved toward her.

  “Enough,” Garvin had placed a hand in front of her, stopping her. The black-haired woman obediently went to the far end of the room and sat on one of the chairs. She didn’t seem upset, but rather worried.

  Bromir stood up from the bed and grabbed a towel, first wiping the sweat from his face, then the rest of his body before tossing it onto the girl lying on the bed. She was no longer sobbing, just staring blankly at the ceiling.

  “In the end,” Bromir spoke as he alternated his gaze between Garvin, whose expression revealed nothing, and the black-haired woman in the corner of the room, who was of no use to him today, “at least she can boast that her second was the future king of Volkar. If her first was some peasant, this is quite an accomplishment.”

  Bromir laughed, but Garvin did not join him. He seemed impatient to leave this place. Bromir was as well.

  “My lord, you’ve paid for me too. What can I do for you?” The black-haired woman stood and approached.

  Bromir pulled out five more gold coins and tossed them onto the bed beside Elizara. At that moment, he realized how beautiful her name was. And she was beautiful. But no lord would ever want her now.

  “Help her get cleaned up,” Bromir gestured toward her. “We’ll meet again soon. And not a word that I was here.” Bromir tossed another five coins. One of them landed on the red-haired girl’s body. She didn’t move, still quietly whimpering. The black-haired woman rushed over and grabbed the coins first.

  Bromir and Garvin quietly left the brothel through the back gates. They passed through the bakers’ quarter. Bromir wore a hood that concealed most of his face. He knew the bakers recognized him even with the hood but also knew they wouldn’t say anything, for their heads were on the line. It was also evening, and most had already gone home to their wives, while the others would soon choose between the tavern and the brothel from which he had just emerged.

  Somewhere nearby, dogs were barking. Soon, the royal wolves would begin to howl. And when they did, the dogs would fall silent and hide with their masters.

  “Bromir! Bromir!”

  Yorick was running toward him.

  “The old fool,” Garvin muttered in displeasure.

  “How did he know we were here?”

  “He’s probably been in this place for a hundred years. He has ears everywhere. That’s why I told you we needed to be more discreet.”

  Yorick was nearly running toward them, breathless.

  “Bromir, your father awaits you at the castle. He wishes to speak with you.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me sooner, Yorick?”

  “I couldn’t find you. I searched the entire place. Finally, I found out…” Yorick stopped, caught his breath, and continued, “I found out where you were and headed there.”

  “You don’t know where I was.”

  “You’re right. I don’t. But your father…”

  “I’ll see my father. Tell him to wait. I have something else to attend to.”

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “Something else? Your father is waiting for you.”

  Bromir quickened his pace, and Garvin followed suit. They left Yorick behind. Bromir could still feel his gaze on them.

  “When I take the throne, I’ll remove him. He’s too soft for my liking. I’ll put you in his place.”

  Garvin didn’t respond. They had had this conversation before, and he should have known it by now.

  “You can’t hide from Yorick, my prince, but how do you hide from your future wife?” Garvin’s question was more teasing than serious.

  “She doesn’t let me in her bed anyway. I hate these unwritten laws, Garvin. What difference does it make whether I sleep with her now or after the wedding?”

  “I’m on your side, Bromir. But it’s in your best interest to maintain propriety. Many people in the kingdom want to be like you and look to you as an example. After all, you’ll soon be king.”

  “Hopefully sooner rather than later, because I’m losing patience. My father is too soft on these sycophants. Especially on Yorick, his advisor. I’m sure it’s Yorick filling his head with nonsense. My grandfather was the same way…”

  “Yorick was your grandfather’s advisor too. It shouldn’t surprise you that he acted the same way.”

  “It doesn’t surprise me. But it would be better if both he and my father retired.”

  “It will happen sooner than anyone expects, prince. Especially if the messenger comes.”

  “The messenger?”

  “You know what I’m talking about. We’re waiting for a sign. If we get it, things could happen even before your wedding.”

  “And if not?”

  “You’ll have to wait two years until the battle.”

  “And I have no intention of waiting even a day longer.”

  For the first time that day, Garvin smiled. Sometimes there were entire days when he didn’t. The first wolf’s howl of the night echoed through the air. Bromir glanced toward the forests beyond the northern part of the kingdom, where the sea ended, and the woods began. The howl carried from there to the castle courtyard, where the three royal wolves were kept. They responded to their wild brethren, and the wolves in the forest answered back. The exchange continued until Bromir could no longer hear them as he pushed open the heavy door to the throne room.

  “Bromir!”

  His father’s voice was cold. Bromir could swear the tone reverberated off every wall, and his name pierced his ears like a needle, driving straight into his brain.

  “Where have you been?”

  “I had business, Father.”

  Bromir approached and bowed as tradition dictated, though even he sensed a hint of mockery in it.

  “Business? Your business is here. Especially when I summon you.”

  “News travels slowly to my ears.”

  “Yorick personally made sure to find you.”

  “Well, he succeeded, albeit belatedly. And I don’t trust others, Father,” Bromir glanced at Garvin. “I have my own man.”

  His father didn’t react. He waited for his son to sit at the table, then rose from the throne and sat close to them. Garvin took a seat beside Bromir.

  The door opened again, and Yorick stepped toward them with small, quick steps.

  “Yorick, where have you been wandering?” His father’s anger extended to him as well.

  “I was searching for the prince, my king.”

  “Well, he’s here now. Sit down.”

  “Why is he here?” Severin didn’t wait and pointed at Garvin.

  “Garvin is with me, Father.”

  “That much I can see, but we need to speak privately, Bromir. These are important matters concerning the kingdom. I don’t want foreign ears listening.”

  “Then send Yorick away, and Garvin will leave too.”

  His father waved Yorick off, and he quickly left the hall, clearly displeased.

  “Now it’s your turn.” The gesture was clear.

  Bromir gave Garvin an uncertain look. His man winked quickly and reassured him. Then he rose and left the hall as well. Now, only he and his father remained, along with the two guards, who stood like statues in the throne room, staring at the walls without a trace of emotion.

  “It’s about your wedding, Bromir.”

  “Oh, that,” Bromir smiled and leaned back in his chair. “Everything is settled. I’m to marry Lady Loren of House Jarr.”

  “Be more serious.” His father’s tone had softened. “A wedding is not just about drinking and finding ways to visit as many brothels as possible without your wife finding out.”

  “Oh, and here I thought that was exactly what it was about.”

  “Don’t think I’m old and foolish. I know where you go.”

  Yorick! It must have been him who ratted him out. He’d pay for that.

  “As long as you’re under my roof and in my kingdom, I know your every step. Just as I know your brother’s.”

  “My brother? He’s preparing to flee to the sea. Why are you worried about him? He’ll be gone soon.”

  Severin placed his hands on the table and leaned back as if Bromir’s words were striking him in the face.

  “First, watch how you speak to me. I’m a king first and then your father,” his father leaned forward, “and second, I don’t agree with Borin, but what can I do? And right now, it’s more important that everything with the Jarr family goes smoothly. That concerns me far more than whether or not you bed your wife. And if that isn’t happening, make sure your problems don’t disrupt my relationship with her father.”

  “Sometimes I feel like you’re the one getting married, Father.” Bromir tried to soften his tone. The fact that his father knew about the brothels and everything else had calmed him. At least now he didn’t have to hide anything. “No one knows except Garvin and the whores in the brothel.”

  He saw his father’s expression change.

  “And Garvin? Do you trust him?”

  “Yes, my king.” His father furrowed his brows. Bromir loved to play with his moods. He knew it would irritate him. “And I trust him far more than your Yorick. Even more than you trust your Yorick.”

  “Yorick has been in this palace since before you were born and before I ascended the throne. And I hope he remains even after me. I won’t allow you to speak of him that way. Not in my presence. When you take the throne,” his father slowed and pointed to the throne behind him, “then you can do as you wish.”

  “I agree that Yorick is an important part of your rule. But that he’ll be here after I take the throne… well, that I can’t promise you.”

  “Then let’s hope I live to a ripe old age.”

  “I wish it for you, Father. As for the Jarr family… rest assured. Lady Loren is in my hands. She loves me so much that she’d even forgive a few dalliances in the brothel. After all, none of the women there are on her level. I can admit that. But,” Bromir felt a growing excitement in his voice and satisfaction with every word he spoke, “you, as a man, must admit that a few side pleasures aren’t entirely unnecessary.”

  His father leaned back again in his high chair, placing one hand on his thigh and leaving the other stretched out on the table, staring him straight in the eyes. His gaze was so sharp that it seemed to be trying to penetrate his mind. The silence was deafening, and it felt like it lasted an eternity.

  “In a day or two, we’ll have guests from Sunrock. Loren’s family is coming to negotiate the wedding. Her brothers will likely be here too. See that you keep your pants on until then. Don’t make me drive every woman out of the village and shut down the brothel. Because that won’t be just your loss.”

  “And where will the knights go at night? At least those who aren’t screwing each other?”

  “Bromir!” His father’s shout echoed through the hall and struck the stones at every point. Only the two guards standing by the door didn’t flinch. As his father’s face filled with blood, Bromir wondered how many secrets those two had heard over all this time. One day, when he sat on that uncomfortable throne, he would kill them and replace them with simple peasants. Peasants he would kill every few days. He didn’t need ears in the hall other than his own and Garvin’s.

  “Bromir,” his father said his name again, but this time calmly and much more quietly. “I want everything to go smoothly. I’m asking you for this. If everything goes well, you might sit on the throne sooner than you think. In two years, the next Great Battle for the throne of Shilan will take place, and if the Gods are with me, I will sit upon it. And all of this will be yours,” his father spread his arms wide.

  Bromir didn’t reply. He looked his father in the eye, but this time he saw the King of Volkar, or as they colloquially called this place, the Wolf’s Gate. The resolve his father possessed was unmatched. What he wanted most from him was to inherit that. But his father had a problem—a problem with his kind heart and warm soul. He followed the minds of others, rarely had his own opinion, and above all, he trusted that Yorick. This would be his undoing. But it would be a boon for his heir. The battle was indeed approaching soon, but he didn’t believe Tristan would win. He didn’t believe that battle would decide anything. He didn’t believe there would even be a battle, to be honest.

  “Alright, Father. I’ll do what’s asked of me.”

  “This isn’t even a request, Bromir. This is the normal behavior of a prince, especially the heir to the throne.”

  “Normal? Why must we all follow these outdated norms of behavior?”

  “Because we are the highest in the kingdom. And the people look to us as an example. I’ve tried to teach you that since you were young.”

  “Behavior, norms, queens, princes… It’s all the same, Father. People know that when night falls and we hide behind the great doors of the castle, we’re just like them. We use chamber pots, we sleep with the servants, and we cheat on our wives.”

  “When you become lord and succeed me, do as you wish. Until then, you live under my roof and by my rules. Norms created by your ancestors, and which I will not break.”

  Bromir slowly stood.

  “If you’ll excuse me, Father. I need to return to my future wife, whom, according to these norms, I cannot touch until the wedding. But don’t worry,” Bromir turned his gaze toward the door, where he would soon be walking. “I’ve already satisfied all my needs for today. I’ll try to hold out until the beloved Jarrs leave. But I can’t promise anything.”

  Bromir walked past the guards, patting one on the shoulder, opened the door, and headed up the stairs. Garvin wasn’t in the corridors, though he wanted to see him again. Instead, Yorick was there. Bromir winked at him and left him to go to his father.

  As he ascended the stairs, he was smiling.