Page 23 of My Princeling Brat (Tales from the Tarot #2)
Tents had been erected along the perimeter of the field where vendors touted their wares–weapons, jewelry, tunics, home appliances, healing crystals and enchanted elixirs.
There were dream weavers interpreting dreams and fortune tellers reading palms and kitchen sorcerers praising their various shampoos and creams for those wishing to have long, luscious hair and unblemished skin.
There were demonstrations too, of the latest elvish innovations, including a small metal bird that could fly and a machine built like a large beetle that could thresh wheat.
Vasil’s royal guard kept the throngs of people at bay, but we did stop for a spell to observe the master bladesmith I’d met while on a tour of the forge. Levolor had set up a demonstration booth, complete with an anvil and hearth and was hammering away at his latest creation.
“What is he making?” I asked Lord Vasil as we watched the steel transform into a beautiful blade with an elegant curve.
“That’s an Awelon blade,” Vasil said, “forged to mimic the native Awelon Falcons who roost in the Cysgodion Cliffs. You see how the blade is slightly curved? It resembles the wing of a falcon in flight. As a lad, I kept a gorgeous snow-white Awelon named Vapor, a loyal and lethal hunter.”
“Don’t tell me you have falconers in your army as well?” I said.
He grinned and said not a word while the shopkeeper added, “The Awelon blade combines the grace of its namesake with masterful, elvish craftsmanship and is the perfect complement to your sword hand, Your Highness.” The shopkeeper bowed slightly, nodding with deference toward Lord Vasil.
“Levolor will be smithing all day if you’d like to come back later to see the finished product? ”
“I’d love to,” I said.
Vasil thanked the man politely, prompting the shopkeeper to beam.
Vasil’s praise did have that effect. We moved on soon after to the food vendors where the lord treated me to fresh fruit tarts–still warm from the oven–and meringue kisses, while he ate a curry kebab.
We each drank a citrusy elderflower elixir garnished with mint.
All of it had to be sampled by the royal taster, another first for me, but the precaution was understandable.
Vasil also purchased a bottle of local honey for me to sample, which the vendor touted as the sweetest in all the land.
It was certainly the most expensive, something I commented on when we were out of earshot.
“The price of honey is higher here,” Vasil explained, “for our meadowlands are not as plentiful.”
“It must be a costly endeavor to feed and house a fae prince,” I surmised with good humor.
“And exceedingly worth it,” he said and took my hand.
Amidst the revelry were games of agility and strength alongside sparring demonstrations, axe-throwing, and equestrian events with both horses and riders decked out in leather, some representing the royal guard in their recognizable elvish blue.
I admired the beautiful beasts from afar while Lord Vasil said, “In elvish culture, the horse chooses the rider, which is always a cause for celebration. It’s followed by a bonding ceremony where the rider names their horse.
They then take full responsibility for the horse’s shelter and care.
Some riders even move into the stable or build an attached dwelling to accommodate them both, as the two are bonded for life.
And if the horse and rider are parted through some misfortune, each will go through a period of mourning. ”
The more I learned of the elvish, the more enchanted with their culture I became.
“That is a beautiful custom, my lord. Something I admire about your people, is their commitment to excellence, whether it is perfecting a trade or training an animal or simply making a delicious fruit tart. Everything in your realm is done exceptionally and with pride.”
Vasil’s head dipped and for a moment he looked almost shy. “You are a surprising young man, Cedrych.” The look he gave me wasn’t threaded with lust but with unbearable tenderness, and I didn’t know how to respond. I much preferred the aching in my loins to the one in my chest.
“The archery tournament is set to begin soon, m’lord,” Anika said. She’d been at the front of our retinue, her gaze sweeping back and forth like a hawk.
“Lead the way, Commander,” Vasil responded.
There was a tent reserved for Vasil, myself, and our attendants, apart from the stands and elevated from the archery field by a platform on large wooden beams. We waited at its base while Anika scouted the premises and during that time, another royal retinue approached.
The young man at its center was pale and slender with long, snow-white hair that fell quite becomingly around his face.
Only his eyes reminded me of Vasil, nearly black and rimmed by flame.
“My cousin Sinclair,” Vasil said as the young man approached and held out one hand, not to Vasil, but to me.
Before I could utter a word, the man said in low velvety purr, “Lord Kazimir of the Kazimir clan. Charmed, I’m sure, as am I.
You must be the infamous betrothed. And a fae prince, no less.
What a catch, Mercier. I can smell your blood, little prince, sweeter than fae honey.
” Sinclair licked his canines, sharp and predatory, and smiled. “So, how does he taste, dear cousin?”
Sinclair’s gaze shifted to Vasil as the lord pulled me backward and angled himself so that I was half-hidden behind him. One of our guards named Erlander eyed the two of them with one hand on the hilt of his sword.
“How’s your mother, Sinclair? Pity she couldn’t make it today,” Vasil said in a voice that could freeze water.
“You know as well as I, someone must stay behind in case some misfortune befalls me.”
“Not on my watch,” said a deep voice.
My gaze slid to the mountain of a man at Sinclair’s side.
Human? Or perhaps part giant. With dark auburn hair and a stern expression, his gaze swept our surroundings before landing on Sinclair with gruff affection.
The scar that ran the length of one side of his face only enhanced his rugged handsomeness.
With broad shoulders and thighs as thick as tree trunks, he was the sort of man I used to pick fights with, and I had no doubts he would win.
Sinclair laid a delicate hand on the man’s bulging bicep and said, “Surely not, Sir Grantham. I didn’t mean to imply any failing on your part, only that there are murmurings of an uprising amongst the elvish and wouldn’t a tournament be the perfect staging for some nasty bit of business?
But never mind that. I was just telling Sir Grantham it’s been too long since we’ve last seen you, dear cousin.
Are you well?” Without waiting for a response Sinclair continued in his lilting voice.
“It’s so seldom that you entertain these days.
But I can see how you are passing the time in that drafty fortress of yours.
How delighted you must be to find the prince has grown into such a sturdy, delectable morsel. Are you certain he’s not a spy?”
There were so many speculations and accusations in that brief soliloquy that my head was spinning. Anika returned then with the all-clear and Vasil said, “Commander Farrow, please escort Prince Cedrych to our viewing tent. I’d like to have a word in private with my cousin.”
“Yes, m’lord,” Anika said with a terse nod.
Having been effectively dismissed, I followed her up the wooden steps, even though I could have flown up to the platform in half the time.
I was trying my best to follow instructions, even while straining my ears to hear the conversation between the vampyre cousins, but their voices were too faint. Curses.
“Is there bad blood between them?” I asked Anika, knowing the answer already.
“Lord Kazimir has behaved poorly in the past and our lord is slow to forgive,” she said in her diplomatic way.
“Do you think the Kazimirs did it? Poisoned Vasil’s parents and Master Kane?”
She shot me a stern look. “My job is to protect Lord Vasil and you, Your Highness, not to speculate. But if you’re keen for some advice, it’d be best for you to stay away from Lord Kazimir. He sows discord and chaos for his own amusement.”
I mulled over her words, then asked, “And who is the giant?”
“Half giant, Your Highness. His name is Sir Grantham Breckon, the son of a decorated general from the War of the Realms. His father fought alongside Lord Vasil’s father but the man perished in battle.
His son was sent to the Kazimir clan as a gesture of goodwill and to protect the heir until Lord Kazimir ascended the throne.
Sir Grantham is Kazimir’s guard of honor. ”
The halfling was Sinclair’s bodyguard? But the way he’d looked at Sinclair seemed more than just an obligation. “Is there something between them?” I asked.
She smiled and shook her head. “Come along, Your Highness, and let me tell you what I know of the archery contestants.”