The Sinful Young Master

Chapter 181 King Inadrys, the hedonist

The halls of Illumarhen echoed with thunder, though no storm clouds gathered in the eternal summer skies above the mountain.

The source was Inadrys himself, his footsteps heavy with purpose as he paced the marble floors of his palace. His mind was elsewhere, fixed upon a vision that had captured his attention, his new conquest.

In the Midlands, where rolling hills met ancient forests, he had spotted her—a young woman in her early twenties, whose beauty rivalled that of the immortals themselves. Her dark hair cascaded like silk in the wind as she tended to her fatherʼs olive groves, her movements as graceful as any nymphʼs dance. Inadrys felt the familiar stirring of desire, a feeling that had led to countless conquests throughout the centuries.

But he was not alone in his chambers.

Ivyona watched from her golden throne, her expression a masterpiece of controlled fury. She had seen that look in her husbandʼs eyes countless times before, and each instance was a fresh wound to her pride.

”My lord,” she spoke, her voice as smooth as honey yet carrying an edge sharp enough to cut stone.

”Must we endure this tale again? Have you not sired enough demideities to populate a kingdom of their own?”

Inadrys turned to face his queen, his form crackling with small sparks of electricity - a sign of his irritation.

”You forget your place, wife. I am king of deities and mortals alike. What I desire, I shall have.”

”And what of your promises?” Ivyona rose from her throne, her divine beauty enhanced by her anger.

”Did you not swear fidelity after your last... indiscretion?”

But Inadrys merely waved his hand dismissively, the gesture sending ripples of power through the air.

”Enough!!”

”I have made my decision. The Midlands call to me, and I shall answer.”

Without another word, he transformed into a heavenly bird, his wings spanning the width of the chamber, and took flight through the open colonnade.

Ivyona watched him go, her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

Only when his form had disappeared into the distant clouds did she allow her mask of composure to crack, a single tear of rage sliding down her perfect cheek.

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”My queen?” The voice came from behind a curtain of mist that materialized in the chamber. Akurnni stepped through, his presence bringing with it the scent of sea spray and temporal winds.

He had been watching, waiting, as he always did when Inadrys departed on his conquests.

Ivyona turned to face him, and with a wave of her hand, erected barriers of divine energy around the chamber—ancient spells of concealment that would hide them from Inadrysʼs all-seeing eye.

”He goes to her again,” she said simply, her voice thick with bitterness.

”Another mortal to add to his collection of conquests.”

Akurnni moved closer, his trident casting shadows that danced like waves upon the walls.

”Come with me,” he urged, not for the first time.

”Leave this gilded cage. We shall build a haven for ourselves; we could rule together. My kingdom is vast, and you would want for nothing.”

Ivyona laughed, but there was no joy in the sound.

”And what of my power? My influence? I am Queen of Illumarhen, Akurnni. That title holds more weight than all the oceansʼ depths.” She moved to the balcony, looking out over the divine realm that was her domain.

”No, I will not trade one cage for another, no matter how beautiful its bars might be.”

”Then why do you continue this?” Akurnni asked, gesturing between them.

”Why risk Inadrysʼs wrath if you will not take the final step?”

”Because, dear Akurrni,” Ivyona turned back to him, her eyes glinting with calculation, ”sometimes vengeance is sweeter than love. Every moment we spend together is a victory against his pride, even if he never knows of it. And that is worth more to me than all the freedom you offer.”

Akurnni studied her for a long moment, the god of water recognizing a force as inexorable as his own tides.

”You play a dangerous game, Ivyona.”

”Life among the deities is nothing but games,” she replied. ”And I have learned to play them well.”

She moved closer to him, placing a hand upon his chest.

”But for now, you must go. Inadrys will return soon enough, proud of his latest conquest, and I must be here to play my part—the dutiful, suffering wife.”

”And what of us?” Akurnni asked, catching her hand in his.

”We are immortal, Akurnni,” Ivyona smiled, though it did not reach her eyes.

”We have eternity for our own games. But power—true, power—that is something even deities must grasp while they can.”

Akurnni nodded, understanding even if he did not agree.

With a gesture, he summoned his misty portal once more.

”Until next time, then, my queen.” He stepped through, disappearing back to his watery realm, leaving behind only the faint scent of the sea.

Ivyona dispelled the barriers with a thought, returning to her throne. She arranged herself carefully, ensuring every fold of her gown fell perfectly and every strand of her hair was in place. The mask of the wronged wife settled over her features once more, but underneath, her mind was already working, plotting.

-

But Ivyonaʼs plans extended far beyond the walls of Illumarhen.

After Akurnniʼs departure, she rose from her throne with newfound purpose. If Inadrys could walk among mortals in pursuit of his desires, so too could she.

With a shimmer of divine light, she transformed herself, shedding her regal appearance for that of a beautiful mortal woman—still striking, but in a way that wouldnʼt draw unnecessary attention.

The tavern she chose in the Midlands was carefully selected, situated at the crossroads where travellers from all directions gathered. The evening air was thick with the smell of spiced wine and woodsmoke as she pushed open the heavy wooden door. Her transformed appearance drew appreciative glances, but only one man held her attention.

He sat alone at the far end of the bar, his muscular frame evident even beneath his simple travellerʼs cloak. His face bore the hardened look of a warrior, but his eyes held something else—a shadow of divine heritage that only a goddess could recognise.

Ivyonaʼs lips curved into a knowing smile as she took the seat beside him.

”A lonely evening for such a capable-looking man,” she purred, her voice carrying just enough warmth to intrigue without alarming.

The young warrior glanced at her, then quickly looked away, a hint of colour rising in his cheeks.

”I prefer my own company,” he replied, his voice deep and controlled. But Ivyona could sense the slight tremor in it, the unconscious response to her divine allure that even her mortal disguise couldnʼt fully hide.

He was Myron. And she came to him, finding him here with a purpose.

She leaned closer, letting her breath brush his ear. ”The alley behind this tavern is quite... private. Perhaps we could find better ways to spend the evening than drinking alone.” Her fingers traced a feather-light path across his forearm.

Myron shifted uncomfortably, his blush deepening, but his resolve remained firm. ”My lady, you are beautiful, but I must decline.” His restraint only confirmed what Ivyona had suspected—this was no ordinary man.

”Such nobility,” she whispered, her voice taking on a knowing edge that made him stiffen. ”One might almost think you were born of higher blood.” She saw the slight widening of his eyes, the almost imperceptible catch in his breathing that told her she had struck true.

From within the folds of her dress, she produced a small scroll sealed with wax that shimmered with barely perceptible divine energy. ”Perhaps this will interest you more than my other offers.” She placed it before him, her fingers lingering on the parchment. ”Your father awaits in the Midlands, in the county of Godeylet. He may not know he seeks you, but fate has its own designs.”

Before he could respond, she rose from her seat with fluid grace.

As she passed him, she added in a voice that only he could hear, ”Iʼm sure you are eager to meet him.”

She left him there, staring at the scroll with trembling hands, knowing she had planted the seed of chaos.

Inadrys was not the only one who could manipulate the threads of fate.

While he hunted his latest conquest, he would find instead a son he never knew existed—a son who had grown into a warrior worthy of his divine bloodline and who harboured the mortal heartʼs natural desire to know his father.

As Ivyona stepped into the night air, her disguise melting away like morning mist, she smiled.

Let Inadrys face the consequences of his past indiscretions while pursuing his next.

She ascended back to Illumarhen, ready to play her role of the jealous wife once more. But now she carried a new secret along with her old ones—the knowledge that she had set in motion events that would force Inadrys to confront the chaos he so carelessly sowed in the mortal realm. Sometimes, she reflected, the true power of a queen lay not in preventing her kingʼs indiscretions but in orchestrating their consequences.