Hi Friends!
Well, sad news in my family once again...I lost my grandpa yesterday. It was very sudden and unexpected but he lived till the ripe old age of 91. I was blessed to have so many years to enjoy with him. Well, needless to say, I needed something to take all the sorrow off my mind for a little while...so I focused my energy on writing.
This chapter is mainly a flashback (in italics) for Spencer but it was necessary in bringing my timelines together. By the end, both Derek and Spencer are on the same day of the week.
Please forgive my mistakes, they truly are unintentional.
Thank you for all your reviews and comments.
Enjoy!
Spencer sat with his shoulders slumped and his head down on the top of a large chocolate stallion. His wrists were bound in front of him and the rope was attached to the pommel of the saddle. He was doing his best to block out the arms that were wrapped around his waist, holding him steady as they rode over the rough terrain on their way to Georgia.
The young king had barely registered any of the ride. His mind had completely shut down from the news he had overheard two nights ago and he had been unable to process anything since then. The only thing that he had been able to do was relive the moment that his world had shattered over and over again.
King Charles had been furious when he realized that Jennifer had escaped his clutches. Even though his misappropriated slave had nothing to do with the girl's getaway he took his anger out on the boy. Spencer couldn't count how many punches, slaps, and kicks he endured before the monarch got tired.
After the king had released all of his aggression on the slave he released him from his bonds and pulled him to his feet. Spencer fell down immediately due to the injured state of his left foot.
"Stand up, you weakling," the man snarled. "Since you helped the young lady escape you're now going to take her place."
Spencer wavered as he struggled to stay upright. He didn't respond to the man but flashed him a confused look at his comment.
"Honestly, I don't know why we didn't think of it earlier," the king stated, grabbing the slave by the scruff of his neck. "You know all the hiding spots in the castle, don't you? What slave doesn't? No, we should have done this from the beginning. Come on, you're going to lead us through every single hallway, alcove, and room. If you dare to leave just one stone unturned than I'll make this last beating look like a lover's sensual spanking."
The co-king silently nodded and allowed his hands to be bound in front of him. The king used an extra length of rope as a crude leash which he fasted to the boy's wrists.
It took them hours to scour the castle. The Georgians were incredulous as to how many hidden hideouts were concealed by moving bookcases, monstrous tapestries, wooden floorboards, and façades of fake stone. Spencer did his best to lead the troop of men to all of the spaces he knew without a doubt would be unoccupied and tried to avoid the one he was sure his friends were all utilizing.
Once the exhausted group had searched the final spot, the secret passage that led into the co-king's bedroom, Charles turned to the slave and grabbed him by his disheveled, "Is this the last one, boy?"
"Y-yes, Sire."
"You're not lying to me, are you boy?"
"N-n-no. I swear this is the last one that I know about," Spencer stammered.
"So you're saying there could be more?"
"I-I don't know."
"Raphael, grab some of the clothes from the changing room. See if they can pick up the coward's scent and weasel him out."
"Of course, sire."
Spencer gulped down his panic, wondering what King Charles would do when the dogs lead Raphael back to him.
"Let me know what if you find anything. I'm going to bed," he said gruffly before tramping out of the room and back to his tent, pulling Spencer along behind him.
When they had gotten back to the king's quarters, Charles dropped the rope and told Spencer to lay down on the bed. The boy looked between the man and the bed a few times, wishing he could wrap his arms around his body to protect himself.
"What are you waiting for boy? Move."
The youth scurried over to the massive bed and sat down on the edge. Charles went and took care of nature before turning around and looking at his newest slave.
Perturbed that the young man had not completely followed orders he strode over to the slave and stood in front of him. Spencer kept his gaze concentrated on his bound wrists, studying the rough twine holding them together, while he took shuddering breaths in anticipation of what was going to happen next.
Charles brought his hand up and grazed his thumb over the boy he knew as Reid's angular cheekbones, pressing deeply on some of the bruises that had formed on the translucent skin. The young man whimpered as his tender flesh was manipulated which triggered the king's groin to start stirring.
He continued his caressing of his prisoner, tracing a line down the boy's swanlike neck. His finger got about halfway down when it hit the metal collar. Charles pushed the fabric of Reid's shirt away, exposing the supple skin encapsulated by the band. "Such an expensive collar for a mere slave," the sovereign commented as he fingered the jewels embedded in it. "Who was your master?"
"I-I've had m-m-many masters, Sire," Spencer stuttered nervously.
"Don't be smart with me, boy. Who fixed this magnificent piece of work around your neck?"
"K-king William demanded that I wear it," he answered honestly.
"Ha! I don't doubt that he did, but I know a miser when I see one and William would have never condoned such valuable gems being wasted on a slave. So I'll ask you again, who gave you the jewels?"
Spencer's mind was whirling a mile a minute as he tried to come up with an acceptable answer. He didn't want to mention Derek at all, so he went with his next best choice. "It was the queen mother, Sire. I was her personal slave."
"Even after King Derek foolishly abolished all slavery throughout his lands?" he ask shrewdly.
The co-king was taken by surprise at the man's knowledge of Derek's decree but he continued on with his lie nonetheless, "Y-yes. She…she demanded that she be allowed to keep me. I-I was the exception to the rule."
Out of nowhere the Georgian king pushed Reid back onto the bed, "I can't say that I blame her. Well, don't worry now boy, you've got a new master…and I know just how to use you."
Spencer tried to stifle a sob but it broke free anyways. He had thought this part of his life had been left behind. Memories of that horrid night down in the dungeons with that evil man Foyet taunted his brain. He had believed that once Derek had been crowned king of the realm he would never have to deal with being someone's slave and plaything ever again.
Charles walked around the bed, eyeballing the heaving chest of the young man prone on the fluffy duvet. He went to the other side and crawled on the mattress above the boy's head. He reached down and grabbed the rope leash that was still attached to his slave's wrists. He pulled the young man's arms above his head and attached the twine to the bedframe, rendering his victim helpless.
He stalked back around climbed up onto the bed, straddling the youth's waist. He removed a dagger from his belt and sliced the white shift he was wearing away from his body. A thrill of delight coursed through his veins at the sight of the milky white chest that was swirled with black and blue marks.
After marveling at the exquisiteness that was beneath him, he took his hands and stroked the tender skin. His meaty paws took their time and explored every crevasse only stopping when they landed on a short necklace poking out from underneath the silver collar.
"What's this?"
Spencer, whose eyes had been clenched shut the whole time, opened them wide when he felt the pull on his neck. He remained silent, his heartrate speeding up at the thought of losing his only link to Derek.
Charles pulled the chain out from its hiding spot, revealing the key that the necklace had been woven through.
"Is this the key to your collar?"
The co-king stayed mute on the subject and waited to see where the monarch's mind was headed.
"I can't believe they were stupid enough to give you the key to your own freedom! But what I really don't understand is why you haven't used it yet. Never mind, I'll fix this faux pas." The king gripped the key tightly in his fist and went to yank it from around Spencer's neck when the youth finally spoke up.
"N-n-no! It is the key to m-my collar but-but I can't use it."
Charles stopped, his critical eyes narrowing suspiciously.
Spencer licked his lips and swallowed, "K-king William thought it was funny, a form of torture for me, to make me wear the key to a collar I could never remove."
Charles furrowed his brow, "Explain."
"King William had the collar fused shut with molten metal. It can never come off. The key is useless. He said that he wanted me to wear it so that I was always reminded of my station and my inability to ever rise above it."
The man let out a loud boisterous laugh at the justification, "It's a wonder I wasn't better friends with that man. We would have gotten along so well." He dropped the key back onto the boy's chest, "Keep it. I insist. I might have to look into doing something like this with my other slaves…"
Charles missed the relief that passed over Spencer's face when he allowed the key to remain around the co-king's neck. Instead, he turned his gaze on the gaunt body's waist and the small trail of hair that peaked out above the waistband of his breaches.
His stout hands reached down to undo the belt securing the pants firmly to the skinny waist. He had just released the latch when he was once again interrupted from his endeavor.
"Father! Father, I have news," shouted Tobias as he flung the curtained door aside in order to enter the tent. The prince skidded to a halt the second he saw what was happening upon the bed tucked into the corner of the room. "Oh…um…I-I…"
Charles stayed seated on Spencer's lap and growled, "This better be good, son."
"I-I-um…i-i-it is…I mean…S-Sir-
"Spit it out already!"
"Sir Buford! He's here with his troops. He is seeking an immediate audience with you."
Tobias didn't need to say anything else. The king jumped off the bed immediately and said, "Well send him in at once."
His son bowed his way out of the tent and went to retrieve the man in question.
Reid, forgotten on the bed, dropped his head back against the mattress in relief. His brain didn't want to process how close he had just come to being violated once again.
"Stay put, we'll finish what we started later," Charles muttered, walking over to the dining table and taking a seat.
Spencer closed his eyes at the statement and turned his head away. His hopes of getting out of this had been dashed with just a few simple words.
Tobias came back into the tent just a few minutes later and announced, "Father, Sir Buford is here to see you."
Charles stood up and held out his hands in a welcoming gesture, "Carl! Come in and have a seat. Tobias, go fetch us some wine a refreshments."
"Yes, father," the young man said before heading out to complete his father's orders.
"Now, Carl. I see that you are here in one piece, so you must have good news from the battlefield."
Carl, gave a slight grimace and said, "Unfortunately, sir. I bring good news and bad news."
The king's demeanor changed instantly; his eyes grew stormy and his mouth twisted from a smile to a sneer. "You had better hope the good news outweighs the bad."
Sir Buford met the king's fierce look with a carefree smile, "I assure you, Your Highness, that you will be very pleased by the end of our conversation."
"Then begin," the sovereign ordered with a wave of his hand.
The knight leaned back in his chair and held out the empty tankard to Tobias, whom had just gotten back with the requested sustenance. He allowed the boy to fill his mug with plenty of wine and took a long swig of it before starting his tale, "Well, the bad news is that technically we did not win the battle. They may have had only about five hundred men or so but somehow King Derek devised a way to surrounded us and closed in on our forces from both sides. I lost quite a few men and had to call a retreat."
The king's countenance seemed heated at the man's nonchalance, "You mean to tell me that we vastly outnumbered them and you still lost the battle? Then what the hell is the good news?"
Spencer, still flat on his back wiggling his finger trying to get loose from the ties, felt a flood of happiness hearing that his husband's success on the battlefield. That meant he mustn't be too far behind the Georgian knight and his troops. He knew then that if he could just hold on a few more hours, maybe even half a day, his knight in shining armor would be here to save him.
"Ha, now this you're going to like, You Grace. I may not have won the battle but I sure as hell won the war," Buford gloated.
The monarch leaned in, interested in hearing the information that had his best knight so satisfied with himself. Over on the bed, Spencer was straining to hear the news too. The glee he had been feeling moments ago fleeting in the face of whatever this man was about to reveal.
"Your Highness, I singlehandedly killed King Derek Reid. I am happy to announce that the Kingdom of Quantico is all yours," he said, raising his mug in triumph.
With those words the captive king's heart burst into a thousand pieces, ripping his soul to shreds and carving out a hollow spot in his once fulfilled life.
Derek groaned as the wagon wheel struck a deep rut in the road and jostled his injuries. They finally packed up and left camp on Thursday night. They traveled almost the whole day on Friday, only stopping for meal breaks and to rest the horses. It was now mid-afternoon Saturday and the scenery around them was very familiar. He was pretty sure that when they crested the next rise the castle would be visible out in the distance.
He sat up straighter and tried to peer around the knight driving his cart, excited to finally get a glimpse of his home.
Abruptly, the wagon jerked to a halt. The king, confused as to what caused the sudden stop, called out, "What's going on? Why'd we stop?"
The driver turned around and said, "Sorry, Your Majesty. The horses at the top have stopped. I had no choice."
Derek grumbled a complaint under his breath and made to get out of the cart.
"Your Highness, please stay with me. We don't know when the journey will start up again."
The young king, never one to practice much patience, obstinately ignored the man's plea and hefted himself off the back of the makeshift carriage. He then grabbed the crutches that one of the squires had fastened out of large tree branches and trekked up the hill.
The stubborn young man could feel his body protesting his actions but his desire to get home overruled his senses. When he got to the top he saw Sir Hotchner on his horse consulting with Sir Kassmeyer. They were both utilizing spyglasses and looking off in the direction of the castle.
"Sir Hotchner, what is the meaning of this holdup?" Derek shouted as he limped toward their horses.
At once, the knight in question jumped off of his steed and made his way over to his sovereign. "Your Highness, you should not be up. Please, let me take you back to the cart and I'll fill you in there."
"Absolutely not. Now I can see that something is wrong just by the look in your eyes and I demand to know what it is!" Derek argued, undeterred by the knight's good reason.
Aaron's shoulders slumped in defeat, knowing that he wouldn't be able to convince the headstrong youth into listening to them. "It's the castle, Sire."
"What about it?" he asked cautiously.
"It looks to be invaded," Sir Hotchner explained grimly.
Derek's face paled, "I-I need to see for myself."
Aaron put his hand up to ward the king from moving around him, "I don't suggest that right now, Your Grace. It's better if you wait here and let me take some men down to assess the situation better."
Derek, suspicious at the knight's suggestion, ignored the man, "Give me your spyglass at once, Sir Hotchner. I want to see this invasion for myself."
The knight nodded his head in defeat and watched as the king hobbled up higher on the hill. When Derek found a spot that he was satisfied with he held out his hand. Aaron gently settled the delicate instrument into the monarch's grip.
The king dropped one of his crutches and brought the glass up to his eye. He peered through the tool, looking down into the valley. The first thing he spotted was the portcullis and how it pulled up with a multitude of enemy troops scattered about it. He then ran the lens up to the ramparts and saw more enemies still.
He wouldn't admit it out loud in front of his troops but his concern for his lover and family was tearing him apart at this point. Were they even alive? What type of condition were they in?
The king was just about finished with his inspection when a tall metal spike that was stationed on parapets the just above the castle entrance caught his eye. There, up for the whole world to see and for the crows to feast upon, was his dear mother's head, mouth gaping open in the afternoon sun.
Derek didn't even register dropping the spyglass as he dropped to his knees and let out a wail of anguish.