Darian felt a sudden rush of warmth enveloping him. A sense of serenity and lightness washed over him, easing his racing heart. The scent of his mother, a heady mix of milk, fragrant flowers, and sweet mint, greeted his senses, further soothing his troubled mind.
Despite coming to see his newborn brother, Darian found himself lost in the moment, lost in the embrace of the tranquil atmosphere. The worries that had been weighing him down seemed to fade away as he stood there, taking in the comforting ambiance. For a brief moment, the world outside the room ceased to exist, and he was left with nothing but peace and tranquility.
“Nome was very big when he was born, a true Incurian one and truly King’s son.”
Despite Nymira’s voice droning on in the background, Darian found his attention drifting elsewhere. His gaze was fixed on the delicate straps of her nightgown, his fingers itching to touch them. It was as if he was under some kind of enchantment, captivated by the alluring garment that clung to Nymira’s curves.
As his fingers brushed against the strap, a jolt of electricity coursed through his body, and without thinking, he pulled it off. The fabric slid off her shoulder, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of her skin and exposing half of her breast, and Darian felt a surge of desire coursing through him. For a moment, he was lost in the sensation, the feel of her skin under his fingertips, the heady scent of her perfume filling his senses.
But before he could fully comprehend what he had done, she quickly covered herself up and slightly pushed Darian away.
“What the hell are you doing?” she hissed, her eyes flashing with anger. “Have you lost your mind? Are you still drunk?”
Darian recoiled, feeling the weight of his mistake crashing down on him. “I…I’m sorry,” he stammered, his voice laced with shame. “I didn’t mean to do that. I was just…I don’t know. I must still be drunk.”
He could see in Nymira’s eyes that he had crossed a line. He felt like a delinquent youth, caught in the act of doing something terribly wrong. “I’ll go,” he said softly, turning to leave. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say.”
As he walked away, his mind was a jumble of emotions. He felt guilty, embarrassed, and confused all at once. He knew he had to make things right, but he had no idea how.
He left the room and tried to catch his breath. A high-pitched voice pierced the darkness of the corridor. It was Councilor Lokir, his tone laced with a mixture of lust and envy.
“The most beautiful women are always the ones who have just given birth,” Lokir crooned. “They’re the sexiest, sweetest, and juiciest. I envy the king. He’s going to have a lot of fun tonight.”
Darian felt a wave of revulsion wash over him as he listened to Lokir’s lewd remarks. The thought of someone finding pleasure in the vulnerability of new mothers sickened him.
As he turned to leave, Darian caught a whiff of something foul in the air. It was the stench of corruption, the rot of a system that allowed men like Lokir to hold power and prey on the innocent. He felt a surge of anger rising within him, a fire that threatened to consume him.
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