Who else could this have been; if not it was not him?Mature

Maltrea looked at Lord Serata, his long blonde hair fell in waves up his head and shoulders, he wanted blood, this Serata knew. He could ill afford being able suggest that his son was responsible for seeing his son die. And killing his betrothed.

Serata looked at  Maltrea who handed him his son's glove.  He knew that it was his son's glove. But he could ill afford to say that it was his. Knowing what Maltrea's dukedom controlled, what he could ill afford to lose if he was to suggest this. He  knew he could not be responsible, how could he?

Teraza could find out for certain but he wanted to  more than that tonight, he was amores. Her form was delicatable, he wanted to relax with her, see about this matter tomorro 

"What do you mean by this.  Is this not his glove?" Serata demanded an answer he looked as though he would slay Serata himself and then kill the murderer of his son; after that.

"He left it beside the betrothed body." Maltrea stated he was shaking uncontrol ably from the pain and mortal anguish he was feeling. He was afraid of what he was saying to his friend.  How could he call him, his friend if he had allowed this to happen. He knew his murderous son's behavior.

"I see?" Serata knew this answer, but he did not know of what he could do about this matter as his son was the heir to the throne. Unless she is able to give birth to another child who is male. This man was a fire brand that would cause him nothing, but grief.

"You see? What do you see?" the duke snarled, he closed his fist and raised it into the air, “I want his head, not attached to his body!"

"And if I object!" Serata stated.

"Then I will call my people to arms?" the duke screamed, he glared into Serata's blue as sapphire eyes.  His voice filled with mortal anguish, His beard looked as though it was a mouse's warren instead of a beard.

"You will? Will you? Cartin sees him out!" Serata ordered looking at the board chested man  looked concerned, but knew that Serata would not abide by his calling his son a murderer.  Both he and Serata knew, what drove his son to do this, it was not anything, he could truly deny.

"What is the meaning of this?" the duke snarled as Cartin grabbed him by the arm to draw him outside of the chambers. The duke fought every foot step outside of the chamber like a little boy defying his father, but the duke was no little boy, he could arrange for an army to appear here.  Maybe he would be willing to listen to reason tomorrow.  Serata did not desire a war, no matter what his son had done, he would he stop him from doing this.

"I will see you upon the sun rise.  Then we may talk."

Serata walked back to his chamber; Terraza looked at him as if he had not been away but an instance. She was naked; her black hair fell down her back like a water fall.  There were grey highlights in it.  Her skin was as alabaster is white, her bosom was large and her hips were shapely, her long legs were like that of a gazelle. Her nose was petite, chin cleft, cheeks were full and flush, and her eye brows were thin as a rapier is long. 

She advanced towards him, than she saw the look upon is face, knew something disturbed him, but what she did not know. He drew his head to her pink nipples with which to fondle and suckle like a babe in search of milk. However he looked into her eyes, instead of busying himself with her breasts. That he would not abandon not in all the time she knew him to be, who he was. Something was dangerously wrong. 

 Teraza looked into his eyes, and asked, “What is wrong?"

"Our son has slain the Duke's child and his betrothed." Serata replied knew the mood had ended

"How does he know it is your son?" Teraza asked, looking into his eyes and seeing the cold calculating eyes of her lover trying to ponder away out of this matter

"He left this, behind. He also  saw him there!" Serata stated as he handed her the glove, it had his initials stitched into the glove.  His son was not that stupid, he could not have been. However he knew of what his son was capable of. Murder was something, he did not frown upon. 

 

The End

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