Duke Dominis' father died some years ago, leaving him the sole survivor of his family. He had aunts on his mother’s side that lived further south and cousins he must hardly visit. His father remained an only child after his younger siblings died of illness. His mother died during childbirth which might explain the distance from his aunts. 

So, Baron Rooke sought the advice of the only man he answered to. King Rhys Lekapenos, the first of his name, protector of Zadrin, the Nile Isles, and the gatekeeper to the Basilk desert. He’d, of course, inherited such titles from his fathers before him who waged conquests across their lands. Before he ascended to the throne, rebellions sparked along the southern edge and into the Nile Isles. A problem that stretched from his prince hood into ascension and to today. The southern cities kept the peace for now, while the Nile tried at every turn to cause much-unprecedented trouble. 

Baron Rooke suspected that before long, another war would rage across the plains once more and call his kin from the mountains to aid his sire. He prayed that whoever Gyla married missed the horn’s call. He wished her happy, not widowed. 

King Rhys welcomed the last minute conference and together, they huddled by the fireplace in his study. A sturdy, round table sat between them with a full bottle of wine and two golden goblets. The king poured their drinks, a never faltering smile on his face. 

The two men could not be more different from one another. Complete opposites in appearance. 

Rhys maintained a youthful appearance with long blonde hair, light enough to be sunlight itself, and sky-blessed eyes. A great catch of a bachelor back in the day. Minus his hotheaded foolery and temperament.

Rooke appeared his age, a belly growing underneath his finery and the stubble of a beard peppered gray. He too grew his hair long, decorated in beads of orange and blue like his father. 

Both their noses crooked from fights and scars along softening muscle. Rook had not held a sword for many years though he carried one. The peace of the north caused complacency in those old enough to know the first rebellion. 

“Your daughter wants a meeting with Duke Dominis?” The king’s smile widened as he caught his friend’s eye over the wine. “If I recall correctly, old friend, you came to me when your wife hunted you through the Bellesea festival and I told you to marry her before someone else did. Now, your daughter, the perfect replica of your beautiful Theodora, is hunting the poor duke.”

“Indeed,” Rook raised a goblet of wine to his king and drank it full. 

The king laughed.   

“I thought,” he said with a teasing smile, “to facilitate a meeting between your daughter and the Duke of the Essex, Colrin.” 

Essex is the largest of the Nile Isles. A worthy match for the house so trusted and valued by the king of the realm. 

“He is nothing but trouble,” Baron Rooke stopped short of spitting the words. 

The Duke of Essex stopped merchants from continuing up the coast a few years back. Ships carrying precious cargo that would last Rooke’s people through the harshest winter of his life. If not for that, then he might have agreed to try it. 

“I would think she should be able to reign him in,” King Rhys sipped his wine and leaned back. “Clean up the whole mess of the south.”

“She is only one woman,” Colrin argued lightly, knowing full well Rhys only meant conversation. “And while I know I’ve written to you about her wild tendencies, she is a proper and fair lady. I fear it would be an ill match.” 

“I have every bit of confidence Gyla would break that foolish man before he broke her. But,” Rhys raised a finger to stop Colrin’s argument, “I have no interest in betraying your faith. I am only pondering ill-thought plans. Besides, I would like to see my northern houses strengthened. You are, after all, the true strength to my reign.” 

“I know my fellow lords well, my king.” The baron poured himself another goblet full. “They would not follow any weak sovereign into the heart of a southern rebellion. We wish to see them complacent, even happy, but I doubt that would ever happen.”

“They don’t know the meaning of the word,” Rhys laughed. 

The baron laughed alongside him and they drank quietly for a moment. 

“I shall arrange for Dominis to host your daughter for a week or two this summer. A festival should be happening around that time but if she can’t woo him over as your Theodora did with you, then I am afraid my gentle persuasion may not be enough.” The king would not force but his words did cause heavy influence. 

“Are there many after the duke’s hand?” Corlin feared the trouble his daughter might cause if so. 

“Unfortunately, no. The Dominis family have always been loyal and fair to their people. I would like to see the line continue.” The king sipped his wine and added, “You have been nothing short of faithful to me. You held every promise, even the ones I knew were too great, and delivered in my times of need. I would like to see your daughter happy.” 

“As would I."

Baron Rooke’s grandfather rose to the challenge of Bellesea and Colrin himself, rode to Rhys’s aide with his able knights giving him enough of a breather for his prince’s guard to regain themselves. It had been the then prince’s first day of battle. The following three days in the trenches of Vrath solidified a 24-year friendship. Years have passed since then. Both married with children now, though Rhys’s were many years from their own respective engagements. Fifteen years separated them and yet, neither could see the gap in the friendship.

“Then, I shall have Dominis host your daughter. Should I invite others to not rouse suspicion?” Rhys tapped his chin. “Farida might have an idea on how to approach this.”

Queen Farida would make a fine matchmaker, having managed herself Rhys when he was still young and hot-headed from battle. 

“So long as they do not try for the duke’s hand, they should be fine.” 

They laughed together at that.