Chapter Eighty One: Between Kingdom and Fire
The council chamber smelled faintly of ink, parchment, and burning cedarwood as Kael leaned forward in his chair. The great table stretched out before him, lined with his council — dwarves, elves, humans, and beastkin — their eyes sharp, waiting for direction.
Spring was only weeks away, and with it came opportunity… and risk.
"The first matter," Thalos began, clearing his throat, "is trade. Our stockpiles are strong — grain, smoked meats, furs, ores. But spring will bring demand from outside. What is our plan for the caravans?"
Fenrik spoke up next. "We've enough iron tools and weapons to barter. Dwarves have been working double shifts since the snow deepened. But it'd be wise not to show all our steel at once. Best to trade what we can afford to part with, keep the rest hidden."
Kael nodded, fingers drumming the wood. "Agreed. We can't risk giving rivals the sense that we're overflowing with wealth. We trade modestly, but strategically — food and tools for knowledge, contacts, and safe passage routes."
Lyria leaned forward, her voice steady. "And for medicines, Kael. Our healers do well, but without herbs from warmer lands, we'll be vulnerable. Prioritize remedies."
Kael met her eyes, giving a slight smile. "Done."
The discussion turned next to defense.
"Onlookers have been sighted near our southern borders," a human scout reported, laying down a crude map. "Not raiding, not approaching, just… watching. Weeks now. They're waiting to see what we'll do."
That sent a ripple of unease around the table.
"We'll not cower," Kael said firmly. "We'll expand. Watchtowers on the north ridge and south border. Double the guard rotations. If they want to watch, let them see a people not afraid to be seen."
Druaka, seated beside Fenrik, smirked approvingly at that.
The meeting continued — discussions of housing expansions, strengthening the inner wall, creating new workshops. Scribes recorded every word, the growing stack of parchment soon to become the foundation of their law and order.
Finally, after hours of debate, Kael rose to his feet. "We've done well. With spring, opportunity arrives. Our people will be ready. The Hollow will not just survive — it will thrive."
One by one, the council members bowed their heads, satisfied, and slowly filtered out.
Kael stretched his shoulders, the tension of long hours making his muscles ache. He had barely stepped outside into the crisp night air when two shadows flanked him — one lithe and elegant, the other tall and powerful.
Lyria on his right. Druaka on his left.
Kael froze instantly. He knew that look in their eyes.
"So," Druaka purred, crossing her arms under her chest, "you've been kingly all day. Serious, commanding, strong. Tell me, Kael… when does the 'man' part of you get attention?"
Kael blinked. "I—I don't—"
"Don't pretend," Lyria cut in smoothly, her tone sharper than Druaka's teasing growl. "You've shared a bed with me already. But Druaka hasn't had her chance, has she?"
Druaka's grin widened, tusks catching the moonlight. "Not yet. But I'd wager he's curious. Aren't you, Kael?"
Kael nearly choked. "This—this isn't the time or—"
"Oh, it's exactly the time," Lyria interrupted, her silver eyes glittering with a mischievous fire Kael rarely saw. She leaned in close to his ear, whispering, "You've been avoiding the matter for weeks."
"Because," Kael sputtered, "you two keep—"
"Fighting?" Druaka offered, her hand suddenly resting heavily on his shoulder. "Or is it competing? Because I can promise you, elf, he'll choose strength over subtlety."
"And I can promise you," Lyria said coldly, stepping closer until Kael was squeezed between them, "that elegance and refinement leave deeper impressions than brute force."
Kael's face burned hotter than any fire spell. "I—I am right here! You're both talking like—like—"
"Like you're the prize," Druaka finished, chuckling.
"Because you are," Lyria added, her voice velvet and steel.
Kael groaned, covering his face with both hands. "Gods… kill me now."
The two women only laughed — Druaka's deep and rolling, Lyria's light but sharp — as they each hooked an arm through his and began dragging him down the snowy path, continuing their playful, heated bickering about who would "bed him next."
Kael, caught between them, muttered under his breath: "Strongest warrior in the Hollow, yet completely powerless here…"
And the Hollow's king disappeared into the night, two women on either arm, his fate more uncertain than ever.
The path toward the communal fire was quiet, snow crunching softly underfoot, but the silence lasted only a heartbeat.
"So tell me, Kael," Druaka began, her voice a low rumble of amusement, "when you're in bed, do you prefer whispers or growls?"
Kael nearly tripped. "What kind of question is that?!"
Lyria smirked, gliding on his other side. "He likes whispers. I know because I've given them to him."
Kael's ears burned red. "Lyria!"
Druaka laughed, leaning closer, her tusks flashing in the torchlight. "Then maybe I'll give him growls. See which one he prefers."
"I am right here," Kael groaned.
"Yes," Lyria purred, her tone like silk sliding across glass, "you are. And you're blushing so hard the snow should melt under you."
Kael opened his mouth to argue, but Druaka cut in with a grin. "Look at him! Redder than a forge-fire. What if we both tried at once, Lyria? Whispers and growls?"
Kael's jaw dropped. "You wouldn't—"
"We would," they both said in perfect unison.
The next few minutes were torture.
Druaka leaned in, deliberately brushing her arm against his. "Strong hands like yours shouldn't go to waste."
Lyria followed immediately after, her breath grazing his ear. "And a sharp mind like yours should be guided… carefully."
Kael clenched his fists, every muscle tight as he tried to walk faster. But they matched his stride effortlessly, their teasing volley relentless.
"Oh, and tell me," Druaka went on, her voice rich with humor, "who kissed you better? Her delicate lips, or my little peck the other day by the sparring ring?"
"You what?" Lyria snapped, turning her head sharply.
Druaka grinned wider. "Didn't I tell you, elf? A kiss on the cheek. Nothing scandalous. Yet."
Kael groaned into his palms. "Please stop."
But it only fueled them more.
Lyria smirked, eyes glinting dangerously. "Then perhaps I should even the score, Druaka. A kiss now, in front of you, Kael. Would that make your head spin faster?"
Kael stumbled. "Lyria, don't you dare—"
She darted in and planted a swift kiss on his cheek. Druaka roared with laughter.
"Your turn, ogre," Lyria said sweetly, almost challenging.
Druaka didn't hesitate. She kissed his other cheek, lingering longer, then leaned back with a victorious grin. "Balanced."
Kael froze, utterly trapped, both women smirking at him like cats who'd cornered a mouse.
He exploded.
"Enough!" His voice cracked louder than intended, echoing off the snowy wall. "I've had enough! You—both of you—stop treating me like some prize to be won! Just—just leave me alone for tonight!"
He stormed off down the path, his cloak whipping in the cold wind, leaving two stunned women behind.
For a moment, there was silence. Then Druaka's deep, booming laugh broke out, shaking her shoulders.
Lyria tried to hold composure, but soon she too was laughing, covering her mouth with delicate fingers. Within seconds, both women were doubled over, tears in their eyes, howling with laughter at Kael's flustered retreat.
"By the gods," Druaka wheezed, clutching her stomach, "he looked like a rabbit chased by wolves."
Lyria wiped at her eyes, still laughing. "Our king, the great conqueror of shadows and chaos… undone by two women teasing him."
Their laughter echoed long after Kael had disappeared into the night, cheeks burning, muttering to himself about how impossible they both were.