Page 13 of The Ivory King (Crowns of Melowynn #2)

THE MOONS WERE SLIVERS AS WE MADE CAMP , twin slices of pure white in a sky adorned with a thousand twinkling lights.

We’d ridden hard and fast, or as fast as two mulish asses would go. They were surefooted beasts, but when they wished to stop, they stopped and would not budge.

“They are not accustomed to long distances,” Beiro explained as he curried the mules while V’alor and Merrilyn set up perimeters around our little area. We’d chosen a clearing not far from a cart path. A small fire burned in the center of our sleeping mats. “They’re used for pulling carts of lavender from the steppes to the storage sheds behind the rookery.”

Raewyn verified our guide’s claim. “How does he know all of that?” she asked in a whisper when Beiro fell silent, probably speaking with the mules with his mind.

“He possesses beast-speak magicks,” I explained as I pulled a roasted red squirrel from the crackling fire and handed it to her. “Your dinner, my lady fair.”

Her smile was bright. “Thank you, my lord. You do set a most exquisite table.” She waved a hand at the spotty trees on the side of the mountain. The air had a bite to it.

“Only the best for my future bride,” I teased gently, and she nudged me softly with her elbow. With delicacy, she began pulling the meat from the bones and placing the greasy bits into her mouth. I did the same. Tezen had eaten a whole leg and promptly fell asleep curled into Sirdal’s long mane. Her watch would begin at midnight with Pasil, who was seated under a scraggly pine chewing on a tough squirrel leg as he watched Beiro intently.

“This is perhaps the most challenging meat to chew that I have ever encountered,” Raewyn said after wiping her fingers on her armor. The fat would only serve to condition the leather since we had no tallow, which was preferable. Courtly manners dissipated on the road.

“I once had a slice of rippled seal meat at a state dinner for the Sandrayan vahasi that makes this old squirrel seem like the finest cut of lamb,” I commented between bites. Thinking of butter called up the memory of last night’s lovemaking with V’alor. Not that I needed the mention of butter to do that as my ass was quite tender from being on the saddle all day after riding my lover so boisterously last night. “They say that the seals swim down from the uncharted isles to the north every year to calf. They’re massive things with tusks the size of a young child and blubber thick as my thigh with meat as tough as boot leather. The Sandrayan cooks coated the meat with savory spices that did little to make the chewy slab palatable but the vahasi and his partner seemed to enjoy it.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I dislike spicy foods. The sisters grow peppers that are bright orange, the seeds imported from the Black Sands Isles. I sampled one just once and vowed never to touch another again. There was not enough goat milk at hand to wash the fire off my tongue.”

I chuckled softly. “It seems our tastes in seasonings are similar. Widow Poppy will be pleased.” I paused then sighed. Perhaps if I wore the crown one of my first acts as king, other than sorting out the mess with the upset Sandrayan court and settling the uproar that the new ruling family would not be the usual the elder elves were accustomed to, would be to invite Widow Poppy to be the king’s personal cook for no one made better honey cakes than Widow Poppy. She would enjoy ruling over the kitchens of Castle Avolire with her wooden spoon. I missed her. I missed my life at Renedith. Things had been much easier when I was a lad whose only concerns were hiding from my dance instructor and following Kenton into the farmlands to peek at badger pups and eat too many brickle berries. Those days were long gone now…

“You look lost, Aelir,” Raewyn commented, bringing me back from my childhood memories with a start.

“I was thinking of my boyhood, my apologies. Did you say something?” I shifted about on my mat, legs still crossed, to look at her profile. She was a lovely woman. If my heart did not rest in V’alor’s hands, I would have been drawn to her on a physical and emotional level, for we were well-suited in many ways. But she was rapidly becoming a sister to me.

“I thought you were perhaps admiring the way your guard captain looks in his armor,” she whispered and waggled a thin, dark brow. I snorted.

“He does look fine in it…” I paused. “And out of it.”

She laughed out loud and blushed when Merrilyn and V’alor, both deep in conversation about something quite serious, glanced our way.

“You are quite a scoundrel.” She giggled and tossed the bones from her dinner into the fire, causing the flames to spit and leap for a moment. “I find it fascinating how our chosen partners are so similar. I know that V’alor has been at your side since you were young as has Merrilyn been with me.”

“Mm, yes, he has always been there for me. I cannot imagine ever not being able to glance back and find him there,” I confessed.

“I feel much the same with Merrilyn.”

I asked a question that had been plucking at me for several hours. “Do you worry that you shall outlive her? We elves age much slower than humans.” She rolled her lips over her teeth. “I’m sorry. I should not have broached such a delicate subject.”

“No, it is fine. Honestly, I try not to dwell on that, but it is always there. She will indeed age quickly compared to me. I will bury her before I even have one crease of old age. But the heart desires what the heart desires, does it not?”

She glanced at me. I nodded. “That it does. I’m sure she will live for many years.”

“With Ihdos’ blessing,” she softly replied as her gaze flicked to her lady love.

The night passed without incident, my turn at watch ending at dawn. I sat close to the horses and mules with Tezen on my shoulder, her light chatter making the watch pass quickly. With the sun kissing the sky, we all rose with grunts and groans, none of us looking forward to another day of hard travel. Beiro watched the sky for signs of ravens returning from Celear, but none appeared as we kicked dirt over our firepit and set out once again.

The second day passed much as the first, as did the third, with miles spent in the saddle and sleeping mats on the ground. We tried our best to avoid any villages we spied, keeping to ourselves as best as we could. Raewyn and I stood out as nobles, even with our hair braided like wood elves. The length of the plaits shouted loudly about our bloodlines. We discussed cutting our tresses off, but our lovers both balked at the suggestion.

On the night of the third day, we found an abandoned barn on the outskirts of Kanazen. The roof had long ago fallen in on one side, but the walls were stout. The horses and mules were happy for old hay to rest on, and for once, we had protection from the frost that had followed us down the Witherhorn range.

We’d had no luck hunting, so our dinner was cold dried meat and the last of the fresh fruit. Water was easily found in an old well next to the remains of a burned-out home. A once proud elm stood blackened and split next to the home, the tree a testament to a lightning strike. Tezen and Beiro had nosed around inside the blackened shell, returning to the barn as night settled on the rolling farmlands to inform us that there were charred bones inside the house. Upon returning, Beiro found a place to observe us in the partially collapsed hayloft.

“We should lock the barn door,” Tezen whispered nervously, her little wings stirring up dust from the rafters that she was darting through.

“If there are ghosts, they can surely enter through the hole in the roof,” Pasil pointed out with a wave of his meat stick at the gaping hole above our heads.

“Stupid fucking roof,” Tezen grumbled, the pixie seated on a beam above us, purple dust falling down over my head. “You do know that the undead haunt places where they die a horrid death.”

We knew there were undead, yes, but they were generally raised by necromancers. And since the last necromancer of note had been killed ten years ago by Beirich and Kenton, the chances of the poor souls in the house hunting us down seemed slim. But I did not point that out to Tezen. Pixies were incredibly superstitious creatures. Science had proven many old folktales to be false already and more would fall by the wayside with the slow spread of Ihdos worshippers. Even the wood elves, with their love of Danubia, had seen a decline in the worship of the wood mother over the past few hundred years. The Sandrayan people were not as inclined to give up their gods for ours, and so that was another bone of contention in our diplomatic relations.

“I am sure the dead have been given the proper rites,” Merrilyn commented from her post at the rickety barn door. She and Beiro were on the first watch. I looked forward to curling up with V’alor for a few hours. I’d not touched him for days.

“What rites?! They lay there on the floor with their bones showing! That is no rite. They should be moved to the trees like the wood elves do, or incinerated as you city elves do, or laid to rest wrapped in the petals of a winter tulip and placed in a small burrow as my people do. Hell, they could even be chucked into a muddy pit like you humans want to do!”

I glanced to my right. V’alor sat beside me, his shoulders loose, his legs out before him. “She seems distressed. That was many dos,” I whispered as Tezen railed on about spirits coming for her in the night and dragging her into the bogs. She disliked bogs, it seemed. I’d never heard why swamps were so disliked by my tiny guard, but surely there was a story there.

“Pixies are always easily agitated about such matters,” he quietly replied.

“I heard that!” Tezen shouted from above, disturbing a few pigeons that had roosted on the barn beams high above. “We are not easily agitated! We are simply attuned to the dangers that the undead possess and if you elves were—” Her tirade stalled. “Did you hear that?!”

We all chuckled. Our pixie friend called us all withered ball sacks and pruned pussies right before the roof creaked loudly. V’alor looked skyward. A dozen or so hooded figures dropped through the hole in the roof.

This time, however, we were not caught unaware. Our weapons were at hand. Swords and bows and war picks flew into action as our attackers hit the hard-packed dirt floor.

We were outnumbered true, but we had two new fighters added to our ranks. I tried to step in front of Raewyn as I drew a dagger from my boot, but she was having none of it. With a gentle push, she moved around me, tugged her whip from her belt, and sent it out with a sharp CRACK that cut through the cool air like a scimitar. One of our attackers cried out as the whip tore through the cloth mask on her face, blinding her instantly. She fell to her knees as the other assassins leaped into action.

Even though it was dark outside, we did have the blessing of the twin moons’ light falling into the gaping hole in the roof. It struck me as a tall male came at me, daggers out, that the fight was incredibly quiet. There were no bellows or rage-filled shouts, just the shuffle of feet, elevated breaths, and the sound of steel on shield. My sight was locked on the man darting at me from the left, for he was dual-wielding, his eyes locked on me. Around me I could hear the others, the sound of an arrow from the hay mound impacting flesh, the whimper of pain as a sword entered a chest.

I sidestepped the first attack, using my blade to deflect the first strike. The second dagger found my hip, the blade glancing off the leather sheath that held my eating dagger. A lucky moment, for I could only assume the blades would be dipped in poison. I spun on my heel, driving out as the man sailed past. My dagger cut deep into his biceps, but no sound of pain escaped him. His eyes, the only part of him revealed, flashed angrily. I’d drawn first blood. Something about the shape of his eyes tugged at a memory, and then it was gone as the crack of a whip rang out in the barn. A slim figure was pulled from their feet. Tezen descended on the wildly flailing attacker, her shriek high and piercing, her picks driving deep into the assassin’s throat. He stopped struggling quickly as the dry ground soaked up his blood.

My attacker was lithe, quick, and agile. He moved around me, blades flashing as he struck out over and over, missing just by the width of a hair several times. A shield impacted someone to my left. A body fell. I ducked a platinum blade aimed at my face. I struck out like an asp. The blade of my dagger went deeply into the thigh of my assailant. He grunted, the tone of his voice also strumming my memory. I’d heard this man before. Perhaps he had been with the other groups that had tracked us over Melowynn.

I pulled my blade free, dropped to one knee, dug my fingers into the powdery dirt and years of chaff, and flung a handful upward. My attacker rubbed his eyes with the back of one hand as he blindly cut through the air. Knowing I had mere seconds, I did as I had been taught by V’alor. I did not waver. I pushed my blade into his stomach, twisted it, and then yanked it free. The blade made a sickly sucking sound as it exited his body. He went to his knees, one hand over the gaping wound in his belly, the other lashing madly at me.

An arrow raced by us, pinning the man to the ground, a long willow shaft vibrating still as it held his shoulder to the ground.

I wiped my blade clean and rose to stand above him. He was mortally wounded, a pulse of blood puddling under his leg. To my right, I heard Merrilyn mumbling something as she ended the life of another assassin with her mighty sword. V’alor appeared at my side, speckled with blood, his breathing harsh.

“Aelir, are you unharmed?” he asked as Pasil and Tezen arrived, both gore-coated but unharmed, it seemed.

“I am fine,” I replied, my heart hammering in my breast. “This one still draws breath but his time is short.”

Raewyn stepped up beside me, her cheeks bright red from exertion, her whip curled in her tiny hand. “Question him before he joins Ihdos.”

I nodded, kneeled beside the man, and reached for his hood. He made a fool’s move with his dagger, a weak strike at me. Raewyn stomped down on his wrist. The blade fell from his fingers and Merrilyn kicked it away. I pulled it free and stared into the raging eyes of Joralf, the valet. I gaped in shock at his handsome face, now drawn into a hateful sneer.

“I warned you of this one,” V’alor growled, stepping up to place the bloody tip of his sword under the valet’s chin. There was no sign of meekness or fear now. “His mewling ways and fawning always sat ill with me.”

I shook off the disbelief of seeing a young male who had been so kind to me.

“Joralf, why are you here?” I asked. It was a stupid question, yes, but my thoughts were scattered to the winds. This man had beaded my hair, fed me honey cakes, dressed me…

“The moose shall kill the swan,” he snarled and with an ungodly strength that I would not have assumed the timid valet had, he lurched upward and drove V’alor’s blade into his neck as the arrow in his shoulder shook madly. He convulsed, but then the light of life left his eyes. His head lolled to the side. I sat back on my heels, surrounded by the dead bodies of trained assassins. Why would a valet seek to harm me? What had I ever done to him, or the Mossbells, or anyone for that matter?

“What does that mean?” Raewyn asked, pulling me from my aimless thoughts. “The moose shall kill the swan. Does that have a deeper meaning?”

V’alor reached down to touch my hair. A few strands had come free of the plaits during the short skirmish.

“The swan is the Stillcloud family crest and the moose the Dewfall crest,” he answered, his dark gaze resting on me as I looked up at him for succor or strength or a combination of the two. A long blond strand fluttered down to my shoulder. “I fear that these assassins were sent here by the Mossbell family to eradicate Aelir.” Beiro leaped from the hay mound, landing with a soft thud, then padding over to remove his arrow from Joralf’s limp form. “With Aelir gone, the most able noble to take the throne, they would shove one of their dimwitted sons forward, petition the elder court for your hand, and then sit on the ivory throne.”

“I am not some bangle or statuary to be handed from one man to another!” Raewyn snapped, her gaze now stormy. “Did they think I would simply agree to wed some stranger?”

“Greed warps the mind,” I whispered, slowly pushing to my feet. “I thought them to be my friends. We played together as young boys…”

“I fear for Umeris,” Pasil said from the right. “We should ride hard, day and night, to reach him, for he is alone in Castle Avolire surrounded by murderous wolves.”

Yes, we needed to reach Celear with all due haste. As much as my grandfather and I bickered, he was the only family I had left. I love the crusty bastard.

I glanced at our guide. “Beiro, can you summon a raven or crow or owl? Anything with wings that will carry a message to my grandfather?”

“Yes,” the ginger replied and ran from the barn, his bow and quiver on his back.

“I shall go with him in case of lingering snakes,” Pasil announced. V’alor nodded at his lieutenant. Tezen flitted about the barn, peeking under masks, poking each fallen attacker in the eye to ensure they were all truly dead.

“We will need to saddle our mounts,” I said, my head clearing. I would have to deal with the anger of betrayal of those I thought to be friends later. “We have much land to cover.”

Raewyn reached out to touch my arm. “My lord Aelir, I am sorry that those you thought to be allies have turned on you. Know that you can count on me to remain a faithful friend throughout.”

“Thank you. I have the greatest trust in all who are with me.” I smiled feebly at my friends, my guards, and my beloved. Tezen flew over to sit on my shoulder, her pointy teeth drawn into a grin that appled her cheeks. “I know we are bound to each other in many ways, some that will draw scorn and disapproval, but I could not think of better elves—” Merrilyn and Tezen cleared their throats. “Elves, humans, and pixies to cleave onto. Now, let us gather our bedrolls and head out.”

V’alor, uncharacteristically, stole a kiss in front of many eyes. “I will always be at your side, my love.”

I took a moment to lean in and let my chest rest against his. “I know this to be true.”

He slid one arm around me. Eyes closed, I drew from him the power needed to face the rest of this journey.

“You two make my heart swell with joy,” Raewyn whispered, stepping up to give us each a sisterly hug. “Come, let us ride. The sooner we reach Celear, the sooner I can knock a few deceitful noble elves on their asses.”

Merrilyn smiled proudly at Raewyn. Hand in hand, they walked to their mules, whispering amongst themselves, affording V’alor and me a moment of privacy. Well, privacy with a pixie on one’s shoulder, which isn’t privacy at all.

We both looked at Tezen wiping her war picks on the neck of my undertunic. “Oh fine, I’ll go locate the other two fools. It’s not like I’ve not seen you two swapping spittle before. Hell, there was that time we rode to Ballybar for a summit and I came awake to the cries of—”

“Go find Pasil and Beiro,” V’alor interrupted, for that was a tale that need not be repeated within earshot of Lady Frostleaf.

“Right. Yep, off I go,” she said then took to wing.

I rose to my toes to kiss him on the mouth. “You own my heart and soul.”

“And you mine. Now, let us saddle our horses.” He caressed my cheek, just a brush of the back of his fingers, but it was enough for the moment. It would have to be, for we had a long trip to the capital where a nest of vipers now slithered through the halls of Avolire.