The Wizard's Revenge—Chapter 2

Owyn strode through the halls of the royal palace early in the morning, a spring in his step as Sunneva had woken him this morning eager for intimacy. Sunneva in particular was insatiable when it came to the bedroom; she would make him perform twice a day, every day if Owyn had the time.

With Freya at the magical academy in Gardabaer, Owyn was grateful for Sunneva’s affection. While Sunneva and Freya had been close since childhood, even being secret lovers in more recent times, Owyn had only recently become close to the lithe woman, and mostly due to their predicament. With Freya unable to carry a child, Sunneva was to carry theirs in secret.

Owyn initially had concerns about that arrangement, even though he had been the one to suggest it. He didn't want jealousy to be an issue, especially since Sunneva still had to work as a handmaid anytime they were in the public eye.

Fortunately, things were going well. Sunneva was a beautiful, passionate woman, and she and Owyn had grown very close. Every night she slept in his arms, and every morning she woke him with her lips around the base of his cock. She was as insatiable as she was loving, and helped make Owyn’s new chambers feel more like a home.

Unfortunately, he didn’t have much free time to spend with her. As the new crown prince of Akranes, he had a lot of work to do. Most of that work involved learning; Sunneva had grown up here, so everything was second nature to her. She was able to tutor him on most things he needed to know. After a month in the royal palace, he was finally starting to learn the place.

A serving woman smiled and bobbed a quick curtsey as she hurried by. Owyn bowed his head briefly without slowing his step.

That was another thing he had to get used to; servants. Owyn just plain didn’t like it. He was perfectly capable of taking care of himself in every way, but now as crown prince he had to deal with servants. They washed his clothes daily, drew hot baths for him—he had to admit, he rather enjoyed that—cooked every meal for him, and recently even began helping him exercise.

The king had been grateful for that as well; every few days they would pick up practice swords and spar for the better part of an hour. King Ivar was still a vicious opponent, and only quick wrists kept Owyn from being covered with welts.

Freya had turned out to be a real gem. She was a sweet woman and very devoted to Owyn in every way. Not just in the bedroom, but she checked in on him regularly, ensuring he didn’t need anything. She knew that getting used to royal life wasn’t easy. When she had left for the academy, Owyn felt an incredible sadness at the notion that he wouldn’t see her for two entire months.

Sunneva was also a bundle of joy. Slightly smaller than Freya, she had the same fiery hair and fiery attitude. That always brought Owyn joy; he wanted to be surrounded by strong women like them. He had no patience for milksops, but fortunately the royal family was as hard as the stones that made up the building itself.

Owyn hurried down the stairs and exited a small door near the stables. There, as the early morning sun beamed across the tops of buildings, he saw his old friend, Einar.

Einar’s face was hard planes and deep lines, but it brightened up when he saw his old pupil. The huge man took a few steps towards Owyn and they embraced, clapping each other on the back.

“Owyn, it’s damn good to see you, my boy. I trust life is still good in there?” Einar jerked his head towards the keep with a grin.

“Life is wonderful, and I am incredibly happy,” Owyn said. “There’s just so much to learn, and much of it doesn’t quite make sense. Come,” he said, turning.

Together, the two of them walked around the back of the stables and continued towards a large field.

“If I’m standing, no servant in the room is allowed to sit without my spoken permission,” Owyn said. “Tell me how that makes any sense. What if it’s an old woman coming to get my clothes, and her back hurts?”

“Well, she had better stand around the prince,” Einar said with a laugh.

Owyn shook his head. “Eventually, when the time is right, I will have to make some changes. I don’t enjoy all the bowing and scraping. People need to retain their own honor.”

“Yes, I can see that,” Einar said. “However, remember that you’re a prince, now. You aren’t to be treated like a regular person, because you aren’t one. You’ll rule over the entire nation in the future. People need to see you as something other than a man, so when you give an order, they obey it without question.”

Beneath his gruff, laughing exterior, Einar could be the source of some surprisingly sage advice.

“Just roll with it, my boy,” Einar said, slapping Owyn on the back. “In time you can get used to almost anything.”

They entered the field where a small gaggle of servants had prepared things for them. Owyn smiled, knowing Einar would enjoy seeing this. They walked up to a set of heavy logs on the ground, and Owyn gestured towards them.

“Look at these,” he said. “Five different weights, all perfectly balanced.”

Lying on the grass before them were five logs, each as long as Owyn was tall and in varying thicknesses. Deep handholds had been carved into each of the logs.

“Well, look at that,” Einar said, stepping up to them. “These things are nicer than some of the furniture in my house. Shame to slam them around so.”

He reached down and wrapped his fingers around the parallel grips carved into the smallest log, then heaved it to his waist in a single motion. A grin spread on this face as he leaned back and flicked the log to his chest, then pressed it overhead a few times, as if testing the weight. When he was done, he dropped it onto the ground.

“What do you think?” Owyn asked. “No more lifting old barrels and rocks for me.”

“I could get used to this,” Einar said, looking at the rest of the logs. “No worries of dropping a stone on my head—you remember that poor bastard that did that at the King’s Games? He’s got a wicked scar from it. Looks like he was attacked by a wolf.”

“You might find this amusing,” Owyn said, pulling Einar away. He pointed to a smooth path that looped around the rear of the keep, then circled back near where they stood.

“What’s that path for?” Einar asked.

“Walking,” Owyn said with a grin. “Or running, should I feel the need to make my knees ache for a bit.”

Einar gave him a strange look. “You’re excited about walking?”

Owyn slapped his stomach. He was not a fat man by any means; for all the bulk of his shoulders, he had a trim waistline. He wanted to keep it that way.

“The more I exercise, the stronger my heart is. I don’t want this thing to give out on me one day, so I figured I should exercise it the same way I do my arms and legs.”

Einar shook his head. “You’re a strange man, Owyn.”

Owyn poked Einar in his soft midsection. While his shoulders were equally heavy, his stomach had softened up over the years.

“Perhaps you should join me sometime, old man,” Owyn said.

Einar waved it away. “If I need to get my heart pounding, I’ll just visit a brothel. That’s much preferred to walking.” He looked around for a moment. “Say, you want to hit The Red Lion with me after this? Bran has a new beer that I think you would enjoy.”

Owyn sighed. “I can’t. Aside from the time I get to exercise or train with a sword, my days are busy here. I have years of knowledge that I need to somehow cram into my head, and it’s not easy.”

“I don’t envy you that,” Einar said.

Owyn laughed. “Well, let’s get this over with, then.”

Both Owyn and Einar lifted each of the heavy logs for as many repetitions as they could, doing two full circuits. The largest of the logs was truly heavy—Owyn estimated it was close to three hundred pounds. Einar struggled with it but still managed two reps. The old bear still had the strength of three men.

When they were done, Owyn convinced Einar to walk with him. In some of his limited free time he had visited the castle library. In there, he found a book written by an old wizard that had dedicated his entire life to improving health and the body. The wizard stressed that working the heart and lungs every day was the most important thing a man could do in order to enjoy a long, healthy life.

He told Einar about the book, and the old man grumbled but kept walking.

“You know I’m not built for this sort of thing,” Einar grumbled.

“You mean walking?” Owyn asked with a laugh, but he knew it for truth. Men their size were good at lifting things, but their stamina often suffered. Still, in the weeks he had been walking, he had already noticed an improvement. He could even jog a bit before growing winded.

“Do you have a few more minutes?” Owyn asked when they finished their walk.

Sweat beaded on Einar’s forehead. “Yeah, I have a bit of time,” he said. “I’m training some merchant’s boy on the sword later today. The man is paying me good to teach that boy of his how to fight with every weapon I know.”

“I have something I’d like you to see,” Owyn said.

He led Einar back through the stables, then through the halls of the mazelike keep. Servants bowed and curtseyed at them, and many stared at the sight of the two enormous men striding down the halls.

They stopped in front of a large wooden door that had been carved with wolves and inlaid with slivers of silver and gold. Owyn reached out and grabbed the handle, turned, then pushed the door open.

“Wolves, eh?” Einar asked as he entered the room. “What’s that about?”

“I killed a wolf and tanned the pelt when I went to rescue the princess,” Owyn said. “She still has it, although she demanded it be washed a dozen times before she allowed it into our chambers.”

“So, this is where you live?” Einar said, turning in a circle as he examined the large room.

Columns of stone arched from the walls and supported a high, white-painted ceiling. Large windows offered a breathtaking view of the city, and two more doors offered access to a balcony. The furniture was all dark wood and carved by the most skilled hand. Freya had ensured Owyn’s favorite chair had been carved with wolves as well.

“This is really something,” Einar said. “Can’t say I’ve ever been anywhere as nice as this.”

“Just wait,” Owyn said, struggling to contain his smile. He opened a nearby chest and withdrew a large washed leather purse. He brought it to Einar and slapped it into the man’s hand.

“What’s this?” Einar asked, frowning at the purse. “Owyn,” he began, his eyebrows knitting.

“No,” Owyn said, cutting him off with a slicing motion of his hand. “I won’t hear any of it. The only reason I’m here in this palace is because of you, Einar. Your training and knowledge got me here. You deserve honor and respect heaped upon your name. For now, this will have to do. I only ask that you wait until you get home to open it.”

“Why is that?” Einar asked suspiciously.

“Because if you opened it here, it would be too awkward,” Owyn replied. “Now, go on, old man,” he said, clapping Einar on the shoulder. “I have to get ready for a meeting shortly.”

Einar gave an elaborate bow. “Yes, my prince,” he said.

“Any more of that and I’ll have the guards castrate you,” Owyn said. “Then I’ll throw you from my balcony.”

Einar roared with laughter, but eventually reached out and embraced Owyn tightly. “It’s good to see you, my boy,” he said again.

“Stop by any morning,” Owyn said. “The guards at the stable gate know who you are; I’ve made sure of it. “Just let them know you’re here to see me and they’ll send someone to fetch me. You’re always welcome here, Einar.”

Einar looked around the room once more and grinned. “Thanks, Owyn. Although next time I might redecorate. I’ll make sure to have a beer for you tonight.” He winked, then opened the door and left.

So many things had changed in Owyn’s life. It was good to see that Einar was still the same.

A few minutes later, Sunneva walked into the room. The nature of their relationship had to remain a secret for the time being; King Ivar certainly wouldn’t take lightly to the notion that Owyn was sleeping with Freya’s handmaid, no matter what the reasoning was.

The redheaded beauty brightened upon seeing him. Sunneva hurried into the room, her perky breasts bouncing in her high-necked dress of pale blue silk. While she was officially still a handmaid, Freya had ensured Sunneva had only the best clothing. The woman was treated like royalty in almost all situations, at least as many as possible. It was only in public that she had to keep up the facade of a handmaid.

Sunneva wrapped her arms around Owyn’s waist and hugged him tightly.

“How are you doing?” Owyn asked, looking down at her.

“Better now that I’m here,” Sunneva said.

She stretched up onto her toes and kissed Owyn softly. “How is Einar doing?”

“He’s doing well,” Owyn replied. “It was good to exercise with him earlier. I told him to come by anytime he felt like lifting.”

“That’s good,” Sunneva said. “You’ve told me a lot about him. I’d like to meet him one day. You should have him dress nicely some time and invite him for dinner.”

Owyn chuckled. “Einar and I at dinner? I think the cooks would have to work overtime for that.”

Sunneva giggled and hugged Owyn tightly. He squeezed her until she squeaked.

“I’m so happy we met,” Owyn said. “Unfortunately, I have to go see the Master of Coin shortly, so I suppose I should prepare.”

“Here, I’ll help you,” Sunneva said, tearing at the laces on the front of his breeches.

Owyn laughed as she pushed his breeches down around his ankles.

“You’ll be ready in no time,” Sunneva said, unlacing her dress with a wink. “Trust me.”