Page 19 of D’Vaire or Nothing (D’Vaire #44)

C hieftain-mate Evlithar Cwylld-D’Vaire grinned as he stepped into a fabric store with his other half, Cadlyr, at his side.

For most resorts, a shop full of baubles, material, and pattern options would be low on the list of priorities.

But thankfully, the royal family included a successful clothing company.

The sprites of Tiri’s Textiles were incredibly talented, and Evlithar reveled in any opportunity to work with them.

As a proud employee of Elven D’Vaire—which had started as a small group of elves wishing to experiment with clothing in a vast array of colors but was now part of what was formerly called the Valzadari Beading Company—Evlithar loved to promote the arts.

But, more importantly, in his soul, he remained a simple elf with a fondness for embroidery.

As he glanced up at the tall blond dressed exquisitely in lavender and blue, Evlithar admitted to himself that Cadlyr was his greatest inspiration for new projects.

It was why Cadlyr’s closet was fuller than Evlithar’s.

Something the Cwylld chieftain complained about often.

Cadlyr was generous and routinely sewed things for Evlithar, but he insisted on adding traditional Acwellan beading to everything. The beading added time to his projects. That didn’t bother Evlithar. He loved the way his clothing sparkled thanks to the gorgeous beads and thanked Cadlyr effusively.

Like Cadlyr, Evlithar was well versed in the art of Acwellan beading, but he saved it for special designs and mostly stuck to his favored embroidery.

Perhaps sensing the way Evlithar was staring at him, Cadlyr turned his head and smiled. To Evlithar’s delight, Cadlyr placed a gentle kiss on his lips.

“It’s a wonderful shop,” Cadlyr said.

“Yes, but not nearly as fantastic as my mate.”

“You flatter me, Ev. And, for the record, my other half is the best elf. Where do you want to start in here?”

Evlithar chuckled. “You should know the answer to that question. I want to see what they have available in purple.”

“Don’t you dare sew anything else for me,” Cadlyr stated in a tone usually reserved for arguing against Council bills in the Main Assembly Hall on the rare occasions when he attended the weekday sessions. “My closet is overflowing.”

“But I had an idea to embroider an entire outfit with little cheese wheels for you.”

“I don’t love cheese that much.”

Delighted with the scowl on his fierce chieftain’s face, Evlithar tugged on his hand and dragged him to the purple fabrics. Evlithar could put up with Cadlyr’s protests, but he refused to stop creating beautiful things for him.

“This morning I wondered about making a cloak with a sword embroidered on it like the one Fate gave you to lead the Cwylld.”

“I rarely wear cloaks,” Cadlyr argued. “Make one for your cousin. He’s a regular in the Main Assembly Hall and would have many more opportunities to show it off.”

Evlithar closed his eyes and switched his vision from a lavender cloak to one befitting a Valzadari chieftain mated to a black centaur.

“I could do the sword in blue beads on a piece of Rafe or Aleksander’s dragonskin,” Evlithar murmured.

“Mix the two dragonskins. The blues and blacks will shift as Kalthekor walks.”

Excited about Cadlyr’s suggestion, Evlithar kissed him.

“I wonder if I should call Kalthekor. Would he prefer the sword in the deep blues of his actual mark from Fate on the day he was made chieftain of the Valzadari or in the lighter color of our skin? It would be a better contrast against the dark dragonskin.”

“You know he’d leave that decision up to you,” Cadlyr responded. “Kalthekor trusts your instincts.”

For centuries, Evlithar had worked for a terse, unhappy Kalthekor and hadn’t realized until he resolved his issues with Cadlyr how misused he had been by his cousin.

But nothing about their lives was the same.

Kalthekor and his first mate had a child, and Pyxlevir had altered his father into a man driven by his feelings.

To Evlithar’s disbelief, Kalthekor had apologized to him, and they were the closest of friends now.

The only person closer to Kalthekor was the second person Fate had paired the Valzadari chieftain with after the death of Pyxlevir’s mother.

Chieftain-mate Aristos Valzadari-Centaurus was a wonderful partner to Kalthekor and, along with every centaur, doted on the now-grown Pyxlevir.

Tugging his phone out of his pocket, Evlithar unlocked it and tapped on his contacts. “I think I’ll text him anyway.”

Cadlyr grinned. “Of course you will, headstrong elf.”

Since Evlithar had once refused to stand up for himself, he was proud of the way he now trusted himself to make his own decisions, even if they were little things like choosing to call someone he loved.

Evlithar received an immediate response from Kalthekor and smiled at Cadlyr, who kissed him. “They’re shopping nearby and are going to pop in here.”

“Poor Kalthekor is about to be bombarded with design questions he’ll have no clue how to answer,” Cadlyr teased.

“He’s an intelligent elf and knows what he likes; Kalthekor will be fine.”

“It’s been my experience that no Valzadari lacks a strong sense of self, and they all have endless opinions.”

It was tempting to roll his eyes at Cadlyr since he was headstrong and opinionated too, but Evlithar chose to focus on the lavender fabrics instead.

Cadlyr sighed. “I guess you’re still thinking of adding something to my closet.”

“Or maybe I want some purple for myself.”

“You look gorgeous in purple, Ev. You’re beautiful in everything, but purple and blue suit you best.”

“I only wear blues and purples,” Evlithar argued.

“Because you’re an artist with an excellent eye.”

“Evlithar?”

Turning at the sound of his cousin’s voice, Evlithar poked his head around a fabric display and waved. Kalthekor and Aristos were there, and so was their son, Pyxlevir. The elf—who’d recently left his teenage years behind him—was smiling. Unfortunately, it didn’t reach his deep blue eyes.

Although Pyxlevir had been a sunny child who rushed exuberantly through life, he wasn’t anymore.

His best friend had taken off on a trip a couple of years prior and never returned.

Gramlithyn Verdanyth was purportedly traveling the world and no longer responded to anyone, including his parents and his former pals.

Pyxlevir hadn’t taken the abandonment well and was far more reserved as he balanced working full time for Elven D’Vaire and completing a degree in business through the prestigious Spectra Wizardry education system.

It saddened Evlithar. He wanted his nephew to have happiness in every aspect of his life.

Evlithar was also angry at Gramlithyn. If he’d wanted to end his friendship with Pyxlevir, he should’ve been direct.

Mistakes were inevitable, and Evlithar had done plenty that he regretted.

He’d thought only of himself nearly two thousand years ago when he’d faked his death to avoid a matebond with Cadlyr, and it had hurt the man Fate had given him.

While Pyxlevir and Gramlithyn weren’t mates, they’d been inseparable since they were six years old.

The last thing Evlithar had expected was that either of them would act selfishly, and Gramlithyn’s decision not to be honest about his desire to discontinue their friendship rankled.

Evlithar hoped Pyxlevir would someday have the chance to confront the elf-zebra hybrid to tell him how mean he had been, but he doubted his nephew was interested in a confrontation with Gramlithyn any longer.

“Did you invite us here to pick out some fabric for Cadlyr?” Aristos asked, humor dancing in his dark eyes. “I’m thinking orange.”

“Dad, you know elves wear their tribal colors,” Pyxlevir replied with a roll of his eyes.

“Maybe change it up and live a little.”

“You wish us to change up a tradition that dates back tens of thousands of years?” Kalthekor asked. “I had no idea you found our culture so boring and staid.”

“Maybe I just don’t like lavender,” Aristos teased.

“That’s fine, I suddenly have a strong dislike for centaurs,” Cadlyr drawled, his smile highlighting the pale purple-and-blue scrollwork Fate had put on his cheek the day his soul was bound to Evlithar’s.

“You don’t have to live with a bunch of them,” Pyxlevir muttered.

“Says the elf who finds the hardest puzzles known to this planet to torture his family with,” Aristos argued.

“Please, I haven’t made you guys do a puzzle in ages,” Pyxlevir argued.

Pain darkened Aristos’s gaze. “I know. I miss puzzles.”

Pyxlevir shrugged moodily. “I’m going to check out which Elven D’Vaire beads they have in stock.”

“Kal, I didn’t mean to piss him off,” Aristos remarked as he gently kissed Kalthekor’s temple.

“It’s not your fault, Aris. My once-radiant son has grown into an often-sullen adult.

It’s fine if he doesn’t want to do puzzles any longer; I just wish he wasn’t so unhappy.

Yes, Gramlithyn’s course changed, and he’s been traveling for years.

We worry about him. His parents vacillate between anxiety and anger.

But losing friendships is unfortunately part of life.

Either Pyxlevir requires some kind of closure or he needs to broaden his horizons to make new companions.

Whatever it is, I wish he’d find it so he has joy again. That is what I wish most for him.”

“We all want that,” Aristos assured his other half as he wrapped an arm around him.

“I miss feisty little Pyx who’d sing songs to get them stuck in my head or force us to carry around his stuffed animals.

Now, they’re tucked in a fucking box. No one told me losing a child to adulthood would hurt so fucking bad. ”

Kalthekor remained concerned about Pyxlevir, but he chuckled. “Aris’s brothers told me that if they’d known having Pyxlevir grow up would be so hard emotionally, they wouldn’t have allowed me to move him in after Aris and I combined our souls.”

“They’re idiots,” Aristos muttered.

“One of those idiots was chosen by Fate to rule the centaurs,” Cadlyr drawled.

“From my experience, Fate is excellent at choosing soulmates, but she can be shit sometimes at picking leaders,” Aristos said. “My father was one of the worst choices, for example.”

“I was expecting a dig at me,” Cadlyr mused.

“If you’d like me to insult you, I can, but we both know you’re the most honorable Cwylld chieftain ever born,” Aristos stated.

“I agree completely,” Evlithar remarked as he beamed at Cadlyr and took his hand.

“Your opinion is biased, Ev.”

“As it should be,” Kalthekor insisted. “Now, what did you wish to show me in here?”

Evlithar quickly explained the idea he and Cadlyr had envisioned.

“Personally, I love the idea of you perfectly recreating the Valzadari sword Fate put on his chest, but either way, Kal’s going to look gorgeous,” Aristos enthused.

“I have little concept of artistic design, but I agree with Aris,” Kalthekor said with a smile.

“Thank you for thinking of me; it brings me great pleasure to wear your wonderful creations, and I delight in showing off in front of the other chieftains in dragonskin since that is nontraditional for elves.”

“Hmm, I wonder if we could find a fabric with horseshoes on it,” Evlithar remarked as his brain readily supplied more ideas. “Like something small and relatively subtle. We could line the cloak with it so you got a peek as you walked.”

“Use Aris’s hoofprints and have Dra’Kaedan use magic to create it exactly as you want,” Cadlyr suggested.

Evlithar couldn’t clap with enthusiasm without releasing his mate’s hand, so he did an excited little hop. “I love that. Perhaps in a deep blue with black hooves?”

“Any chance this could be a matching-cloaks situation?” Aristos asked. “You’ve made me a couple of them now, and I’m almost no longer afraid of stepping on one so I land on my face in public.”

“Aris does wear traditional elven clothing to events regularly,” Kalthekor added with an amused glance at his other half.

“My apologies, Aris, I should’ve suggested that from the start,” Evlithar said. “Yes, you’re both chieftains; I’d be happy to make you one too.”

“Let’s not do matching,” Cadlyr suggested. “Make Kalthekor’s in Aleksander’s dragonskin and Aris’s in Rafe’s. That way they’re unique. We haven’t discussed how to trim them. I suggest each of them be different embroidery or beads.”

“Kal’s should be beaded given his company,” Aris said.

“And yours can have embroidery,” Evlithar remarked. “We will need to sneak in at least one centaur.”

“Why am I getting so excited about new clothes?” Aristos asked with a grin.

“Because we are lucky enough to have two of the most talented artisans creating ensembles for us,” Kalthekor told Aristos.

“You flatter us,” Cadlyr said. “Now, go find some beads that match the swords on your chest.”

“Kal, you may have to take off your shirt for me to match them perfectly,” Aristos commented as the couple walked away.

Evlithar chuckled at the purple flush in Kalthekor’s cheeks and couldn’t hear his cousin’s response.

Valzadari tunics were traditionally open at the throat, so it was easy to view Kalthekor’s mark from Fate, but Aristos loved to tease Evlithar’s cousin.

It was wonderful to know that Kalthekor was as happy in his relationship as Evlithar was with his beloved Cadlyr.

“I guess we have an enormous project to tackle,” Cadlyr said.

“Yes, and we’ve discussed the cloaks but not the pants and tunics to pair with them,” Evlithar replied. “Thanks for volunteering to help me.”

“You’re my favorite person to work with.”

Evlithar shifted and embraced Cadlyr. “I will need your help later when we are alone.”

“Ev, I’d be happy to strip you out of these clothes and listen to you order me around as we make love.”

“I hope this day proves to be a short one.”

“Me too,” Cadlyr replied as their lips met.

Evlithar sighed into their kiss and thanked Fate for all the bounty she had brought into his life and the lives of everyone he adored.

The extended D’Vaire family had been heavily blessed by the goddess, but Evlithar still mourned for the people he loved who didn’t have their mates yet.

If they were lucky, Fate would pair them soon.