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With a weary flourish, you stamp your royal seal on the last of the decrees and toss it on the stack of parchment that sits in the Out Tray, for your chancellor to deal with later. It has been a productive day of administration. You have earned a break.
Despite being alone in your study, you twist in your seat to scan the room. Your ears strain to hear any minute noise. Even here, in your private sanctum, you feel that your wife or her spies are somehow watching. There have been times when you swear you hear creaking of floorboards from within the walls, or that the eyes upon the tapestry are turning to follow you around the room.
But today you hear or see nothing that could suggest eavesdroppers. You slip a simple wooden locket from your pocket and flick it open. Inside is coiled a lock of golden hair. Gently you lift it out, twisting the beautiful strands over your old war-callused fingers, smelling the sweet fragrance. Your lecherous mind conjures the image of the amorous young scullery maid when which the lock came, skin smooth as milk, a body like a ripe peach. You had met only briefly. There had been time only for a few stolen kisses and hastily uttered sweet nothings, but it left you wanting more. Today you will get more. That will be your reward for being such a responsible ruler.
Pushing back your chair and striding across the room, you throw open the door.
"Going somewhere, my Lord?"
The guard outside the door stands to attention. You don't recognise him. He is fresh-faced and eager. Without a word, you stomp past. The guards footsteps keep pace with your own. "Why are you following me? What are you doing?" you snap.
He gives a smile with the faintest hint of a sneer. "Guarding you, my Lord. I am a guard after all. Wherever you go, it is my duty to escort you there."
"Not today. This is a private matter."
"Private matter or not, sire, orders are orders. It is for your own safety after all."
"'Orders'? 'Orders'?! I am king! My command overides your 'orders', as you should damn well know! How long have you worked here?!"
"Oh, quite a while, sire! At least two weeks!" he beams.
The man is on kingsguard duty after two weeks! Then you notice it- the silver ankh of the Goddess hanging on a chain around his neck - and you understand. This man is a spy. You've long suspected your wife of sneaking her own agents into the castle guard. Their eyes are everywhere.
It would be easy enough to dismiss this guard, yet to do so would only confirm your wife's suspicions that you were hiding something.
Muttering, you turn around and storm back to your office, slamming the doors behind you. The guard returns on the other side of the door. Somehow you must give this young lad the slip.
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