Page 15 of The Ivory King (Crowns of Melowynn #2)

OUR FIRST STEP IN LAYING THE FOUNDATION to bring the Mossbells to justice was for Raewyn and me to make our first courtly appearances. With a few well-placed whispers in the right pointed ears—Pasil’s pipe-loving cousin and a few washerwomen that Merrilyn had run into—the news that the Stillcloud heir and his intended had arrived in the wee hours of the night began to spread throughout Castle Avolire.

Raewyn and I had little time to get settled into our new roles. Baths were brought up to Umeris and Fylson’s suites, the ladies taking the secretary’s room temporarily while I washed and changed in my grandfather’s suite. Umeris napped while I readied myself for morning prayers and the march of the fallen king to his tomb. V’alor and my guards had slipped off to the guard’s barracks to wash up, change their underclothes, and buff their armor.

The first peal of the bells in the capital’s church rang out just as the sun crested the surface of the sea, turning the Silvura a brilliant scarlet color with small white caps rolling toward the shore. I stood on the balcony, my leather armor on the floor, my skin clean and smelling of crushed pine and wax wood, my hair brushed out. On my left biceps, I wore a black satin band.

“We’ll ring for staff to clean your armor,” Umeris called from his bed. I gave the sea one final look and then turned to reenter his room. It was just us now. He was stretched out on the massive bed, looking more and more frail every time I looked at him. “Aelir, this is a good plan, one that I wish I had more of a role in.”

“You need to play your part as we decided. And that is for you to be bedridden with a severe case of podagra and unable to leave your room. That will give them confidence. Once Fylson announces that he is planning to return to his home along the Galesdi Gulf that will seemingly move another keen eye from the castle.”

“Fylson will be hard to disguise,” Umeris said as he sipped some tea and nibbled on sweet crackers. I sat down beside him and plucked a honey cake from his tray. One bite took me back to Renedith and my boyhood.

“His helm will conceal his identity well enough,” I said between bites of golden cake dripping with rich honey. “Widow Poppy has not lost her touch,” I announced as I sucked the last drops of sticky honey from my fingers. “If we stay—”

“Oh we will stay, Aelir. If you do not take the throne, Melowynn will fall into chaos.” Umeris handed me a cloth. “Wipe your fingers. You are no longer a snotty lad running about after a wood elf seeking slugs in the garden to taunt your tutors with.”

I smiled at the mental image. “I miss Kenton.”

“I’m sure once you are seated on the ivory throne, you will summon your reformist friend and his entourage to Avolire to spread their woodland nonsense among the court,” Umeris huffed, but the umbrage lacked real ire.

“I shall name him Grand Nonsense Spewer,” I teased and got a snort from the old bastard that may have been a sound of amusement but only to those who knew him well. The second bell rang, splitting the calm air as the faithful were summoned to prayer and to the final march of Raloven’s body to the tombs in the massive shrine. “I must go fetch Raewyn.”

He waved me off with his teacup, his sight on me as if he wished to speak. When he said nothing more, I stepped into the hall. There stood V’alor in his copper armor, a new helm on his head, his dark eyes moving over me in my finery.

“It has been some time since I have seen you with your hair down and velveteen on your body,” he commented as his gaze roamed my face. “It suits you, my lord.”

I wanted to say something tawdry but another guard joined us, Fylson, in full copper regalia borrowed from Pasil. He nodded silently at me. We moved down the corridor, passing other nobles who, like us, were slowly filing out of their rooms to attend prayers and the walk of flowers. I paused at Fylson’s door, knocked politely, and waited in the hall for Raewyn to appear. A small gaggle of young women in fine clothes skirted us, whispering and bowing as they did until Raewyn opened her door with a smile. She was dressed in a lovely gown of muted mustard yellow that made her dark hair glow. The young women gasped before darting off. I caught the flash of pain on her scarred face.

“Pay them no mind,” I said as I offered the lady my arm. Merrilyn appeared behind Raewyn in a demure, soft, doe brown gown, her hair pulled up into a serviceable bun at the back of her head. “You rival the sun for warmth.”

She placed her dainty hand on my arm. “You’re a kind man, Aelir. For years I wished for other young women to spend time with, but now I am not so sure I wish to spend time with them if they are so cruel.”

“Not all are so petty. Give them no further thought.” I patted her hand and led her through the castle, our heads high, our smiles bright as the new sun. Our silken slippers had barely touched the floor of the grand entranceway, the ebony bunting of mourning being hastily removed by scurrying staff, when we ran into the Dewfalls and Mossbells waiting for us outside the viewing chamber. I drew in a breath. Now the drama began. I should have been given acting lessons as a child instead of dance instruction. “Ah, there they are!” I called out as we neared the small gathering of titled elves in soft mourning colors, black bands on their arms as was dictated while the king lay in state.

I grinned even wider at the twins as they rushed to us. “Aelir! The rumors of your return arrived with our morning tea. And this vision must be Lady Raewyn. Your beauty is blinding,” the two said in unison, both vying to grab Raewyn’s free hand to drop a kiss on her knuckles. My sight touched on Bonnalure in her wheelchair, her deformed legs covered with a thick covering of dark blue that matched her gown. Behind her, his hand on her slim shoulder, stood her fiancé Ja’nor Dewfall, and to his right, his future mother-in-law, Lady Si’ofra, wearing a gray gown with a circlet of gold atop her head. I bowed politely as Luchas and Larium drooled over Raewyn. After a plaintive look from Raewyn, I nudged the dolts aside, getting a raised scarred brow from Larium. The affront melted away like snow on a spring day quickly as he looped an arm around my shoulders.

“Come now, Aelir, no need to be so physical. We’d not dream of stealing her away from you,” Larium cajoled as they led us into the stateroom. The coffin containing the king lay closed, his likeness carved into the stone coffin lid draped with flowing bouquets that would be the base of a million flowers tossed onto the rolling casket.

The nobility chatted amongst themselves as if they had not a care in the world. The king lay dead among us, his body now cold and starting to rot, and this band of chittering sandterns discussed the latest shoe fashions. Truly, I disliked the court more and more. The vapidity was appalling as was the sycophantical swamp mash flowing from the mouths of two men I once considered my closest friends. The twins jabbered on about hunting trips that we could take and sailing adventures we could participate in now that a Frostleaf was returned to us. They whispered to me about women and men in court who were eyeing them and me, and if I would wish to join them after the old man was in his crypt.

I shied away from all of their invitations, citing my need to stay close to Raewyn as we had plans to make for our wedding. That brought on more chatter from Larium and Luchas as the bells tolled six and the coffin was lifted by a dozen kings’ guards. Out into the early morning sun we went, following our dead leader, as the coffin was placed onto a cart of gold and white ivory. Six massive white horses, wearing white and gold finery across their muzzles, backs, and over their fetlocks.

“Once the plans are in place, Aelir, we will find you a brothel fitting of your nobility where you may set up a concubine,” Luchas whispered to me as we all began the walk down from Avolire to the shrine upon the sea. Guards rode along the procession on both sides, keeping the growing crowds of common elves from the nobility. The poor threw wildflowers on the king’s coffin. I glanced back at my guard. Fylson marched along in time, but his eyes were damp. My gut lurched at the tears. Not that they were out of sorts for many people were weeping openly, but because his grief was still so raw. Yet here he marched in hot armor, being jostled by crowds, to ensure his vision was on the Mossbell twins. I doubted any of them would try to end me here on a city street. To be honest, I felt little danger from them, for the nobles did not dirty their hands with such things.

“I have no need for a concubine,” I replied tartly. My betrothed walked at my side. What kind of pig would say such things in front of a fine lady such as Raewyn?

“Oh ho, that is right! You have not only a furry muff to sink into but an iron staff to ride upon at your beck and call!” Luchas howled as we turned a sharp corner to face the towering edifice of the shrine of Ihdos that sat along the rocky shores.

I spun to face Luchas, my hand fisted at my side. “You are a braying ass of a man to speak so in front of those that I hold dear. If not for the fact that this is a funeral for a great man, I would beat you to a pulp for your disrespect!”

“We need to move along, my lord,” Fylson said, taking the lead to move me into the shrine. Larium and Luchas stood stunned, and their gazes narrowed as my guards nudged me inside amid a cascade of blooms falling from the wet walls of the citadel. “Do not seek to engage them now,” Fylson spat as V’alor came up on my other side.

“I cannot abide their crude speech in front of Lady Frostleaf,” I snarled before leading Raewyn into the holiest of places in Melowynn to say our goodbyes and pray to Ihdos.

Most would be asking for insight, intelligence, and wealth. I would be requesting patience and his watchful eye over those that I cared for. Once Raloven was in his tomb, the elder council would reconvene to decide who would wear the crown while I was meeting with the exalted cloisterer in an attempt to have him wed me to three other people. That was, of course, unless I was dropped like a skink sunning on a warm tree by the family now glowering at me from afar before a discussion with the exalted one could even take place…

Morning prayers dragged on and on. The exalted cloisterer, an elf even older than Umeris, delivered a scathing sermon on the duty of all elven kind to follow the dictates and rules set forth by Ihdos. Ya’mar Duskmoon, the highest ranking cloisterer and voice of Ihdos, spoke loudly despite his age, his rheumy eyes locked on me for much of his discourse. Surely his lengthy devotional had been written for my ears. Either that or he could hear the rumbling of Raewyn’s stomach throughout the long session.

“I hope we are dismissed soon, for my stomach is feasting on my gall,” she whispered when Ya’mar finally returned to prayers for our dead king. Another hour of appeals to Ihdos. “Do you think he hears it?” She rubbed her flat stomach.

I leaned to the left. “I doubt he hears much of anything to be honest.”

Merrilyn snorted softly. She was quiet, yes, but she was diligently devoted to my oldest friend. The woman was growing on me. The fact that she was seated with Raewyn amongst high-ranking elves did not go unnoticed by my fellow nobles. Raewyn had insisted and so, in her kind but firm way, her human handmaid sat with the Stillcloud family. V’alor, Fylson, and Tezen were all in the back of the shrine, the cool sea air washing over them but not making it to the front benches where the elite sat. As sweat trickled down the crack of my ass, I would have gladly given up my bench to sit with the armed guards of each family.

When the prayers ended, we rose and fell into a neat line to walk past the king’s casket one final time. Each of us bowed one last time and then moved on to the back of the shrine.

“I thought he would never shut up,” Luchas said when we had moved into the sun and moist salt air. My guards appeared as if by magic, each hidden well in their helms, although all in attendance knew Tezen. She was the only pixie in the guard regiment.

“His words offered great comfort and guidance,” Bonnalure said as her future husband wheeled her out into the courtyard. Hundreds of elves waited behind tall, locked golden gates to enter the shrine later for a blessing from under-clerics. “You both would do well to listen to the exalted cloisterer instead of flipping your chins at every young man and woman you find attractive.”

Lady Mossbell was speaking to a group of other matrons, her sight touching on us momentarily, before returning to her discussion. The twins rolled their eyes. “Lady Raewyn, I am having a small affair with tea and baked treats when the sun is at its apex, a light repast with several of the higher-ranking women of our circle. It will be a lovely afternoon in the western garden. Please say you’ll join us. I know you long to spend time with your affianced, but surely we can pry you away from Lord Aelir for a few hours?”

Raewyn looked at me and back down at Bonnalure. “I’d be delighted to attend. It will be wonderful to meet those of my station.”

Bonnalure smiled sweetly. “How grand! I’ll let the kitchen know to add food and drink for one more.”

“You’re very gracious,” I said, bowing slightly, to Bonnalure. A robed cleric appeared at my side, whispering to me that the exalted one had summoned us to his chamber. “We must go. We have matters to discuss with the exalted cloisterer.”

“Ihdos bless you, my friend, for if I had to listen to him any longer I’d expire,” Larium joked, delivering a sound slap to my shoulder as he laughed at his own pun. “While the ladies are sipping tea, why don’t you join us for a ride? The coast offers many beautiful sights as well as taverns where we can wet our whistles and maybe play some cards?”

That was the last thing I wished to do. “I’m sure a fast ride and a cold ale will sit well after a meeting with stuffy old Duskmoon.”

The twins hooted with glee. We left then, following the under-cleric back into the shrine. Our footfalls echoed loudly as we made our way to the back of the shrine to a doorway that led to a vast library. Walls filled with scrolls and tomes and flickering torches set into the white stone walls cast dancing light on the old wooden shelves.

The under-cleric stopped short of a long table where Duskmoon sat, still in his funeral vestments, for he had just placed Raloven into the cold damp tombs below the citadel.

“Only those who are to be wed are to venture forth,” the young elf said, his sight on his pale white slippers.

I looked at Merrilyn, V’alor, and Raewyn. We closed the distance, leaving Fylson and Tezen with the under-cleric. They were offered chairs and water but declined.

“Sit,” Duskmoon croaked, his voice craggy from hours of leading prayers and delivering pointed lectures. He closed an old leather book with a slam, his gnarled fingers pressing down on the cover of the tome as his watery blue eyes raked over the four of us. “Sit down.” We pulled chairs from other tables and lowered ourselves into them. “Now, I will hear from you why you think Ihdos should bless a union of four elves. No, forgive me, three elves and a human. Explain your thoughts to me, for I cannot make sense of this blasphemous request.”

I glanced at V’alor, who was incredibly ill at ease, as was Merrilyn if her tight jaw was any indication.

“Exalted one, we come to you with this request for we all love each other.” One wild white eyebrow rose. “My words are true.”

“Your words are drivel.”

“No, my words are the truth. I love V’alor.”

“Then you should wed your guard captain.”

“I would gladly do, and wish to, but I also wish to wed Raewyn and Merrilyn.”

His nose crinkled. A fat candle on his right spit and flashed. The sound of the ocean lapping on the other side of the library wall was rhythmic as well as disconcerting. Why the old elves built their shrine to Ihdos so close to the water was a mystery. The seepage was a constant problem to be fixed by masons from the Witherhorns at a great yearly cost to the kingdom.

“Young Stillcloud, I vaguely recall the rush of youth and its effects on the brain as well as the body. Ihdos, in his wisdom, knows that young men and women are at times overcome with urges that make them think they are besotted with one or more people. Those urges are not a sound basis for a wedding between nobility. Why would you seek to take these other lesser elves as a part of your lineage?”

“Because I love them.”

He sighed wearily, then rubbed at his old eyes with equally old fingertips. “I dislike this wild precedence, Stillcloud. If I grant you permission to marry four people, who is to say that the next noble elf will not come to me begging me to wed them to six people? Or eight? Or ten? Or to an oxen?”

I had to fight with myself not to lose my temper. An oxen. How foolish. Surely a smart elf would marry a goat. It was comments such as those that made my patience snap like kindling wood. “Exalted One,” Raewyn said, slipping in with perfect timing. “Our people are loving souls. Each elf holds the capacity within themselves to love a myriad of souls. We love our parents, we love our teachers, we love our friends, we love our god, we love other elves we have yet to meet as Ihdos teaches.”

V’alor shifted beside me, his helm now in his hand, his dark eyes locked on the man who could end this plan with a pass of a quill. Ya’mar squinted at each of us as he bobbed his head to her words.

“We ask only to love each other in our own ways so that when Ihdos blesses us with a child, they will be raised surrounded by love. Surely a union of four souls who care so deeply will ensure the next generation will be shown what true love and respect is as opposed to forcing people to wed those they dislike. Is not the child of loving adults given a stronger base than a child whose parents are unhappy and adulterous?” V’alor said, surprising me thoroughly. His sight met mine for a second. I took his hand as I reached for Merrilyn’s hand. Love was a strong word, true, and while I could use it freely for Raewyn whom I love as a dear friend and sibling as well as for V’alor whom I love as my soulmate, I knew that in time I would find deep affection for Merrilyn. Perhaps as another sister. Being an only child, the prospect of having two sisters was a happy thought.

“And you would think of any child as belonging to the four of you?” Duskmoon queried.

“Yes,” we answered in unison. The exalted cloisterer tapped his long nails on the tome in front of him as he thought.

“It will be well loved, well protected, and well raised,” Merrilyn tacked on before falling silent again.

His fingers continued rapping as he mulled. My palm was sweaty as I clung to V’alor and Merrilyn’s equally damp hands. Raewyn simply stood quietly, head lowered, as if she were still an acolyte of the sister of the steppes.

“I find myself in a difficult situation,” the exalted cloisterer eventually stated, his gaze moving from me to the others and then back to me. “I have spoken to Umeris just this morning, and he assures me that your troth to each other is solid and true. He also informed me that you are a young man with lofty goals and a deep drive to reform the old ways. As I am old, I find I bristle at that, yet I also know that Ihdos breathes his will into each of us, and if our lands are to grow, then it is his wish to see that change occur. And since I can find no writings by the heralds of Ihdos pertaining to the number of persons joining each other in marriage, I cannot deny your request.” We all exhaled in relief. He held up a bent finger. “Know that the church will be watching your union closely, for it may well bring forth others with the same odd desires. We will be scrutinizing you four closely as you move through your lives, and your behavior in this multi-party marriage shall tint any other requests accordingly.”

We all lowered our chins to our chests. “Thank you for your kindness and tolerance of our request. We shall all act accordingly under the eye of Ihdos is ever upon us,” I said as I lifted my gaze from my boots. “I know that change is often frightening for those who are set in the old ways, but a society stagnates and dies when it refuses to move forward.”

“Hmm, you sound just as Umeris described. Go now. I have marriage papers to draft. Return to this room at dusk and you four shall be wed.”

Ah, so old Umeris had pushed the importance of my being wed to Lady Frostleaf to the exalted cloisterer. Perhaps the grumpy sod was right. Perhaps I did need to learn how to play the games and kiss the boots of those who would, someday, return favors granted. I doubted that would happen anytime soon, if ever, for my parents would surely have never done so. And as was often pointed out, I was their son.

“Thank you again. Glory to the wisdom of Ihdos,” we all murmured as we bowed and turned on our heels.

We strode out of the shrine with haste, eager to celebrate in the courtyard with shared hugs. Merrilyn stiffened when I embraced her. V’alor did not. He gathered me close and kissed me with a passion that had several elves who had lingered by the sea to whistle and taunt us.

I caressed his cheek before turning to Raewyn, who was enveloped in the arms of her lady love.

“So, I see that there is joyous news to share?” We turned to find Bonnalure smiling up at us, a thick blanket on her lap. There was no sign of her mother or brothers. “Word travels quickly. You have my congratulations on your upcoming vows. The lands all the way to the Galesdi Gulf will soon be yours, Aelir. As may the crown if your grandsire can sway a stubborn old crone. That crone being my mother.”

I stared down at her in shock. “Lady Mossbell is surely not—”

She lifted a small hand. The wash of the tide over nearby rocks rolled over us, the mist settling on our clothing as the common elves still waited on the other side of the golden gates.

“She surely is. It is my mother who refuses to cast the final vote to see the three noble houses voting unanimously. It is most vexing when any fool can see that my brothers are too dimwitted to find their cocks in their breeches most days, and I am unable to produce a full-blood heir. You are the wisest choice, Aelir, and one that I would most graciously endorse if my say were given any credence.”

“I thank you, Bonnalure.” I kneeled down beside her and took her hand between mine. We had known each other for many years, she and I, and her calm presence had always been a pleasant diversion from my grandfather’s curmudgeonly temper and her brothers’ loud crude ways. “Once things are settled, we shall have a party to celebrate our vows. We’ll be sure to send invites to you and your future husband.”

“That would be lovely. I wish you all well. I find that I’m chilled and tired. I’m going to retire to my chambers to await the decision of the elders.” She raised her hand and a guard wearing the Mossbell crest appeared to wheel her back to Avolire. When the gates were opened, we made our way back to the castle as well, the four of us with Fylson and Tezen. The pixie was flitting about our heads like a honey bee drunk on pollen.

Fylson was quiet. I did not think he would be chatty after standing at the back of the shrine as his love was lowered into the ground. Tezen made up for it.

V’alor walked at my side, his gait slow to accommodate Raewyn’s and my shorter legs.

“I hope I can attend the vows! I’ve not been to a wedding in many years. We pixies have wedding fetes that go on for a fortnight. The couple sneaks off to a private spot to fuck like rabbits while their families and friends get drunk in the royal hall and fuck like rabbits! The last time I was at a wedding it was for a cousin, dumb as a dust mote he was, but a likable male. I may have overindulged a bit, for when I woke up the next morning I was tangled up with two lovely lasses on the back of a sleeping duck. If we fucked on the duck, I cannot recall, but I did have down betwixt my arse cheeks.”

“We should be wary of the twins’ invitations to a ride,” Fylson said as we moved through the throngs of elves going to prayers or heading to the village market to sell their wares. His helm hid his face well, only allowing his eyes and chin to be fully viewed. Flocks of gray geese waddled by driven by barefooted elven children with sticks, men rushed past carrying sacks, and women pushed around us with baskets filled with fresh bread or clothes to be washed at the shore. My guards moved us along with speed. A shame really, for I had always enjoyed the street stalls set up in the heart of Renedith. “And of being among this many people. We should have left with the other nobles.”

“I concur.” V’alor moved us along with more speed, his hand on my back. “This is not at all safe.”

“Well, it is what it is, for we had to speak to the exalted cloisterer. As for the twins, I do not trust either of them as far as I could toss them. I’ll take V’alor along for the ride. Fylson, you can get some rest. It was a long night. Pasil and Tezen will split the watch of Umeris in the council meeting,” I said.

A young boy ran up to Raewyn, gaunt and in shabby rags, his brown eyes huge in his slim face. On his arm, he had a basket filled with seashells as large as he was. “A copper for a shell, my lady?”

“I will take a dozen and wear them in my hair,” Raewyn said, dropping down to pat the lad’s dirty cheek before dropping a dozen copper coins into his basket. The sale was made, and the shells were placed in her palm. The boy grinned and shot off with a hoot, leaving Raewyn smiling after him, twelve sandy, rather ordinary seashells in her hand.

“You are too softhearted when it comes to begging waifs,” Merrilyn said as she stood on guard behind Raewyn. V’alor agreed with a huffing sound. “Be warned, my lord. Your home will soon be overrun with stray kittens and warblers with mending wings.”

“That is why you love me,” Raewyn tossed over her shoulder as she rose. “That and my ability to use my whip to remove the ash from a cigar and not harm the cigar.”

Merrilyn grunted, a sound so much like V’alor’s huff of a yes that I chuckled. This new menage I was about to be joined with would work well. If only I could be so sure of what awaited me when I joined the twins for a ride along the shores of the Silvura Sea. I trusted them not at all and was glad that Raewyn would be with Bonnalure in the safety of a garden sipping tea and eating tarts, her skill with a whip notwithstanding.