Chapter 90 – The Commander and the Flame
The training yard echoed with the dull thrum of chaos-forged boots striking in unison. Kael stood with his hands folded behind his back, shadow magic curling faintly around his frame as a dozen humanoid constructs moved through the drills he had set for them. Their bodies were formed of smoky muscle and hard light, their weapons conjured spears and shields, each one an extension of his will.
But today he wasn't their commander.
"Thalos," Kael said, turning to the towering ogre beside him. "They'll answer to you."
The ogre's tusked grin spread wide, a mixture of pride and disbelief. "Aye, lad. Magical soldiers, listening to me? That's somethin' out of a bard's tale."
Kael smirked. "Consider it a test. They're only useful if they can follow orders not my own."
With a commanding bellow, Thalos snapped the soldiers into motion. He barked orders in his gravelly voice, switching between dwarven and common tongue, testing their reaction to cadence and tone. The constructs moved as if they had minds of their own, falling into ranks, holding formations, thrusting spears in practiced rhythm.
Kael observed carefully. Though their bodies were his magic, their ability to adapt rested on the flow of intent he had bound into them. He felt every flicker of hesitation, every crackle of raw energy, but they obeyed Thalos without straying.
"Not bad," Thalos muttered after a grueling set of drills, sweat gleaming on his stone-like skin. "They move like seasoned recruits. But they lack… unpredictability. A soldier bleeds, fears, flinches. These? They're perfect. Too perfect."
Kael's expression darkened. He had felt it too. "Which means I'll need more than just shadows if war comes." He let out a breath. "Still, they'll serve as the shield that buys our real soldiers time."
The ogre clapped him on the shoulder. "You're thinkin' like a king already. Trust me, lad. With these creatures, no bandit, no slaver, no damned beast will breach our walls without a fight."
Kael nodded, though inwardly he wrestled with the weight of his choices. Power always came with chains of its own.
That evening, after the drills had ended and the yard cleared, Kael made his way to the palace. Lyria was off in the archives working with the scribes, and Druaka had insisted on helping haul wood for the builders even though her immense strength made most men look frail by comparison.
He found her later in their chambers, sitting by the fire. The golden glow of the flames softened the sharp edges of her body. Druaka was every bit the warrior she appeared to be—broad shouldered, thick-muscled, her skin a deep earthen tone with faint scars like brush strokes across a canvas. Where Lyria's build carried the elegance of a blade, sleek and refined, Druaka was a tower, sculpted by survival and battle.
Yet despite her size, there was something unmistakably feminine about her. The way her long dark hair fell in braids down her chest, the curve of her waist leading into the powerful shape of her hips, the warmth in her amber eyes when they lifted to meet Kael's.
"You're late," she said, her voice both teasing and matter-of-fact.
Kael smirked, loosening his new helm and setting it aside. "Training soldiers takes time. Even the ones I make."
Druaka rose, and her presence filled the room. She didn't step lightly the way Lyria did—every footfall was deliberate, certain, as if the ground itself yielded to her.
"You work too much." She stopped just a breath away, tilting her head to look him over. "Always the king. Never the man."
Kael swallowed, the tension between them thick. "I don't know if I can afford to separate the two."
Her hand rose, rough from years of battle, and brushed against his jaw. "You can. With me."
The fire cracked, the only sound in the room. Druaka leaned closer, her height nearly equal to his own, her boldness impossible to ignore. Where Lyria's first kiss had been hesitant, almost questioning, Druaka's lips pressed against his with a fierce certainty.
Kael stiffened, then melted into it, the taste of smoke and strength mingling with her. Her kiss was demanding, passionate, and utterly without shame.
When they parted, Druaka grinned, her tusks catching the light. "So serious. You think too much, Kael. Sometimes you just take."
His heart pounded. He searched her eyes and found no doubt, no hesitation. Only want.
He thought briefly of Lyria, of her softness and the way she had guided him through their first night together. With Druaka, it was different—wilder, heavier, charged with raw energy. If Lyria was the calm flame, Druaka was the wildfire.
They moved together without words, the tension that had hung between them for weeks finally snapping. Her hands were strong as they traced the lines of his back, her body warm as she pressed him against her. The firelight painted every scar, every line of muscle, every mark of survival that told the story of who she was.
Kael let go of thought, of doubt, of the weight of the crown. For once, he was not king, not warrior—just a young man tangled in the arms of someone who wanted him for no throne, no title, only himself.
As they tore off their clothes their minds and bodies seemed to be in complete sync, wanting nothing more than the closeness and warmth of the other. They paused, staring at the others naked form, Kael's body was well built and full of strong muscles from his days of training and physical labor, his member hung midway to his knees. Druaka's massive frame was towering, but her body was also surprisingly feminine, her supple feminine features caught Kael's eye immediately.
"You're staring.." she said, her voice seductive but teasing.
"I'm sorry.. your just.. so beautiful.." He replied.
Druaka seemed to strut towards Kael, a newfound boldness in her eyes,
"Why don't you show me how beautiful you think I am?" She asked.
Kael couldn't help but smiling, taking Druaka in his arms and throwing her onto the nearby bed. She let out a joyful laugh as Kael crawled overtop of her, pressing their bodies as one and connecting. As their bodies slowly adjusted and began moving the more they got lost in the moment, no words were spoken until they finished. Kael was so engrossed with Druaka and her feminine features that Druaka nearly enjoyed from his touch. By the time they had both enjoyed to their hearts and bodies fulfillment, it was late into the night.
When it was over, the two lay in silence, the fire dimming to embers. Druaka's breath was steady, her presence grounding, like a wall he could lean against.
"You're stronger than you know," she murmured, her voice softer than he'd ever heard.
Kael stared at the ceiling, his chest rising and falling. "So are you."
For a long time, they simply stayed like that, the weight of battle and politics and power slipping away. And Kael, for the first time in weeks, felt peace.