Mfonemana_Uduak

Dear readers, This is the most edited version of Lucy Wickshire on the net for my readers, whose eyes itch at mistakes.

Synopsis: One misty day, the higher realms call for penance; the head of a mother and child requested. The stench of blood carried on for miles, A whiff of pain trailed down pine-covered hills. A mother's head taken on a spike, a child saved despite great battle. A failure to be dreaded for years to come. Banking on time, the realms prepare for when a child becomes a woman. But the impatient child would never reward enemies with even time. A promise; One should resolve a child's grudge before the breast milk is dry. A prayer; May the realms rue the day they failed to kill Lucy Wickshire.
You are about to read the accounts of Lucy Torgenn of Wickshire and the millions of bodies burned as a backdrop to a child's rage.

Lucy Wickshire

The days passed like water in a stream. In the Juhntt capital, the daylight had rolled in without seize. The villages and lower towns had awoken and with noise on their tail. They moved around without care for silence's sleep, going about work into the day. Hunger; a motive to dare the cold and kill the ice under one's feet to fulfill a stomach growl; better to murder than be killed by the cries of children.

In the palace, King Adrian stared at his advisors with a careless smile.

"Relax," he said, throwing their complaint off his mind as he moved towards his wife's palace. He walked into Amie's study to see her arranging documents and raised a brow.

"You seem busy," he said, alerting her of his presence at the door.

"You should be busy," she retorted and he chuckled in reply before taking a seat. Amie waved away the attendants and then turned to him with a raised brow.

"You need me for something?" she asked.

"This king cannot meet his queen without need?" he asked.

"Shouldn't you be appeasing your council? They looked quite dissatisfied while entering the palace earlier,"

"The kingdoms of the east refuse to send in grain as usual, as doing it now in light of my title, looks to be a tribute," he said.

"Even those already in pacts with us?"

"They have succumbed to pressure. Southern Lan has been moving around slightly panicked," he said.

"You took Northern Lan. They can feel your eyes on them from their rice-built throne. They are not wrong," Amie snorted.

"You think little of me, dear wife," he seemed to have been wronged.

"Southern Lan never had the military might of Northern Lan, it is only right they fear,"

"With this title on my crown, they are betting that I dare not move against them. If I do, I will be telling the entire world that I wish to possess them," he sighed.

"Move against them?" she asked and he only smiled

"Well, that title was going to bite one day, might as well start now," Amie said and returned to the documents she was sorting.

"What are these?" he got up and walked around her to look over her shoulder.

"When the bloom returns, my brother will have to go to one of these," she said.

"Want me to help you decide?" he asked and she froze slightly. He had lowered his head and his breath was now grazing her shoulder.

"Wait till you have received your tribute before making any plans,"

"Word is, the Vigron and Ligrel clan made a pact and changed leadership of the Ostie. The Bloom Thraile Isle will have to follow soon. The way I see it, every submission follows with a tribute," he said and Amie turned sharply, only to meet his face a little too close and froze.

"If the Ancients swear tribute to me, will you be okay with this? After all, you had eyes on them too," she asked and he smiled, staring down at her plum lips.

"Dear Wife, when are you going to give this king his wedding night?" he asked and she turned a dangerous shade of red.

"Answer the question!" she insisted.

"If I answer the question, you will have to bear with the consequences," he said.

"Can you pay for my answer, Amie?" she felt him close in and froze. To her relief and slight distress, his lips did not approach hers, it went for her ears. She could feel the slight stubble on his shaved cheek as it grazed by hers.

"I am sleeping here tonight," he said.

Bk 2: Chapter Five (15)