Page 16 of The Ivory King (Crowns of Melowynn #2)
MIDDAY ARRIVED WITH A WARM WIND OFF THE SEA and my beloved pacing my chambers.
“This is not a good idea, Aelir,” V’alor stated yet again. I’d heard his concerns for the past two hours as we ate our midday meal in my room. He’d voiced his dislike of taking a ride with the Mossbell twins at least a dozen times. “We should take more guards.”
“Then it would look as if we suspect them,” I pointed out while standing in front of a dark wood wardrobe trying to decide what to wear on an afternoon excursion with two people who had paid assassins to eradicate you. Was royal blue too much of a slap in the face? Not that I had any knowledge of my name being finalized to be king. None but the noble elders were allowed into the small council chambers in one of the highest towers in Avolire. Umeris had complained bitterly about another day stuck arguing with the heads of the Dewfall and Mossbell houses.
“We do, and they should well know it. This pretending to be simpletons does not sit well with me, Aelir. Being prepared is a good defense. Taking a horseback ride along cliffs is not a good defense. I think Fylson’s mind is addled by grief, for he surely cannot think that dangling you in front of the muzzles of the rabid twins like a haunch of venison is a sound plan!”
I turned from the wardrobe, walked over to my lover, and took his head between my hands. His jaw was so tense I could feel the muscles seized up along his neck.
“Aelir, now is not the time to think of intimacy,” he softly snarled.
Rising to my toes, I placed my lips to his. Once, twice, thrice. Slowly he began to respond to my tender pecks, his hands coming to rest on my ribs.
“I can think of no better way to fritter away some time, my betrothed,” I whispered over his soft lips. “Take me to bed.”
“You have just bathed. Would you ride out smelling of sex?”
“The smell of horse would hide it,” I purred as I rubbed my nose over his. I could feel him weakening slightly when a sharp knock on the door sent him back a full step. I sighed, then reached down to adjust my half-hard cock before calling to whoever was on the other side to state their business.
“My lord Aelir, it is just I, Bonnalure Mossbell,” she replied in her soft, sweet, cultured voice. “I had hopes that we could speak about Lady Frostleaf before our tea later today?”
I gave V’alor a nod and hurried to the wardrobe to pull on a pair of dark green riding breeches with a white shirt. Bonnalure smiled at me as she wheeled herself in, a large wicker basket on her lap, the wheels of her chair silent as a brown wood mouse moving across the stone floor.
“I hope I did not disturb your rest?” she asked, then thanked V’alor as he lifted the hamper from her lap. A soft knitted blanket covered her legs, as was usual, for she was very anxious about her fellow nobles viewing her useless limbs.
“No, I could not find sleep, so I read a bit and then decided to find something to wear for the outing with your brothers,” I explained as she made her way out to the wide balcony. She tipped her head back to gaze at the sky, her long hair falling to the floor as her lashes came to rest on her pale cheeks. A look of utter serenity settled on her pretty face.
“I could not rest either, and so I sent my handmaids out to find some trinkets for your affianced,” she said, eyes still closed before she opened her eyes to glance back over her shoulder at V’alor and me standing in my room like dullards. “Although whispers have reached my ear that I should have looked for trinkets for more than one intended as you are going to wed three this eve?”
My sight darted to V’alor. He raised an eyebrow. “There are few secrets in Castle Avolire,” I replied with a small chuckle that she returned. I glanced back at V’alor. “Lady Bonnalure and I are fine to speak alone. Would you go see that Atriel is readied properly for our outing today?”
V’alor inclined his head to Bonnalure and slipped out after giving my shoulder a soft squeeze. I walked out to join her on the balcony as she opened her basket with a delicate flourish of tiny hands.
“So the rumors of vows betwixt you and your guard captain, a human handmaid, and the Lady Frostleaf are true?”
I leaned my ass on the cool stone railing, the calls of the gulls at my back as was the ocean itself.
“They are,” I answered. Bonnalure was always the thoughtful, intelligent Mossbell child, thankfully the eldest, so she could oversee the vills with her husband with insight. “I have deep feelings for Raewyn as she has been my friend for years, much like you,” I mentioned and thumbed hair from my face. The sea breeze was always hearty on this side of the castle.
“And I feel much the same for you. A warmth deep in my breast akin to what I feel for my brothers,” she said as she dug about in the hamper on her thighs. “Imagine my surprise when my lady-in-waiting whispered that into my ear. The scandal I thought, but then realized that no scandal would befall you, for you are the golden heir of Renedith, the son of legends, the grandsire of the hero of the Bhaston Tundra wars.” Her sight lifted from her basket to pin me to the marble banister. “Never before has an elven noble petitioned the exalted cloisterer for a marriage to three others, yet Aelir Stillcloud had the temerity to do so.”
I folded my arms over my chest, her tone sharp, her gaze lingering on her basket of trinkets.
“I am not sure that temerity is in play at all. It is simply a case of several people deciding to join together for the good of the realm,” I explained calmly, understanding that many in Melowynn would find a marriage between four people unsettling or even blasphemous. “Surely you can see that the heart of an elf can love more than one person at a time.”
Her sight darted to me as she pulled out a silver hairbrush with fine filigree on the back and handle.
“Yes, of course. I can understand that you, Aelir, are given permission to wed your lady, your beloved guard, and some dirty human, but when I petitioned the exalted cloisterer to end my engagement to Ja’nor, my request was denied, for I am not a Stillcloud. I am only a crippled Mossbell woman to be auctioned off to a man who would rather lie with his underage cousins than with me.” She tossed the brush to me, her usually lovely face now a tight mask of hatred. I grabbed the brush as it sailed over my head. Bonnalure wheeled at me at speed, one hand flying out in front of her. Her palm hit my chest. The hairbrush fell to the balcony as I went tumbling over the stone railing, a shout of surprise escaping. I twisted in the air, managing to get a hold of the rounded stone pillars between the base and the top rail of the balustrade.
Below me, the Silvura Sea splashed serenely on smooth, slick rocks.
“Nothing ever goes wrong for you, does it?” she shouted over the side of the rail as she began beating on my fingers with the hairbrush. “You are sickening in your perfection!” She pounded on my fingers as I scrabbled to try to get my bare toes into the crevices of the smooth stone sides of the tower. My brain was awash in panic as I shouted out for help, but only heard the gulls replying. “You’ve cost me thousands in gold and not one of the inept assassins could strike you down! You. Make. Me. Ill.” Each word was followed by a crack from the brush on my swollen knuckles.
So it was the meek, intelligent, chairbound woman and not the shitwit twins. It would sit on my mind for eternity that she had so cleverly fooled me and everyone else when I plummeted to my death. That would teach me to never discount a woman simply because she was a woman. Lesson learned. Pity I would take it to my grave within another moment.
I kicked at the tower wall as the fingers on my left hand slipped free. Bonnalure continued striking at my hold, cursing me and my family, when suddenly the hits ceased and she screamed like a dark monster exposed to the light of Ihdos.
“Help!” I shouted, dangling over the calm waves, my eyes watering, my knuckles now bloody, as yells bounced down to me. “Help!” I bellowed, my sight on the railing, my heart thundering so loudly now I could barely hear the tide or the gulls. “ Help! ” I roared a third time. A large hand appeared between the stone pillars. It clasped my wrist, the grip brutally strong, as more voices began to float down to me.
V’alor wiggled his shoulders between the pillars, his face white with alarm. “I have you!” he shouted down at me. Tears of relief coursed down my cheeks as he slapped his hand into my free one and began hoisting me upward. His forearms were thick, powerful, and straining under my dead weight as he tugged me up to the base where more hands latched onto my shoulders to pull me to the rail. I bent over it, lungs working like bellows, and then was helped over the side by Pasil and Fylson. My knees buckled when my bare toes touched the balcony. V’alor was there to catch me, his arms cinching me tightly to his chest, my cheek coming to rest on his copper chest plate.
“By Ihdos, my love, I thought you were surely gone,” V’alor whispered as he hugged me to him. I clung to him as my breathing began to calm.
“I am not so easily flung aside,” I commented weakly, pulling back to gaze up at him. “I cling like a bog burdock Kenton always said when I was young.”
“Kenton speaks the truth.” V’alor reached up to caress my cheek, wiping the tears of fear from my skin with his thumb. Bonnalure was shrieking inside my chambers, vile horrid things falling from her mouth as the royal guards and Tezen were securing her to her chair with ropes. My pixie guard was ensuring that her bonds were tight enough by the sounds.
“She tried to push me to my death,” I shakily announced. The royal guards nodded, lowered their heads, and placed a fist to their chests. Confusion filled my head. “She also confessed to hiring the assassins who tried to kill me.”
“Her treachery was viewed and overheard by the Lady Mossbell next door who was seated on her balcony as well,” a tall, older man in blue and white armor informed me. “It was she who sounded the alarm.” I nodded to the Grand Lady Mossbell, who wept silently into a frilly kerchief as her daughter was wheeled out of my suite screaming incoherently at any and all within view. “We shall lock her in her room until you decide what her fate shall be, Your Majesty.”
I blinked dully at the assembled guards who, as one, went to one knee. Umeris entered then, waxy with worry, his gait wobbly, his sigh of relief a hearty one when he spied me standing with my guards and Fylson. Merrilyn and Raewyn exploded into my suite wearing dressing gowns with brown creams on their faces, both dashing to me to ensure I was well. Umeris steadied himself with a pinkish-white walking stick, obviously borrowed from an elderly woman with dreadful taste in walking sticks.
“The elders have come to a decision,” my grandfather proudly informed me as the screams of a woman lost in a mind thick with envy and a touch of madness slowly faded away. Umeris bowed as low as he dared, everyone else standing near me doing the same. “Your coronation shall take place on the morrow, King Aelir Stillcloud, Ninth Sovereign of the Sublime Court of Elves, Emperor and Commander of the Elven army and navy, Blooded kin of the Queen of the Seventh Trient, Magnate of the wood, sea, air, and all the beasts within, Unifier of the Realm, Defender of the Moon Sisters, Keeper of the Holy Scepter of Ihdos, and Seeker of Serenity for the whole of Melowynn and her people.”
My heart fell to my cold, damp, bare feet when the exalted cloisterer appeared, his long hair in ribbon curlers, fresh from his bath, the silver crown of Melowynn resting on a dark blue pillow in his hands.
Everyone in the room, even those I would wed this evening, went to one knee as the crown was carried to me by a man with wrinkle cream hiding in the deep crevices of his face.
“Normally, Your Majesty, this crowning would take place immediately after the death of the king and be placed upon the head of the heir apparent. Since this was an unusual circumstance, the elder council begs for your forgiveness for taking so long to come to a decision.”
The ancient leader of the church lowered his head as he, too, went to one knee before me. I glanced around, my throat suddenly dry as the black sands of the Sandrayan Isles, my head filled with a thousand ideas and thoughts, words and exclamations, but all I could do was stare at the ribbons in the exalted cloisterer’s hair.
“King Aelir,” Fylson called softly, shaking me from my stupor.
“Oh, yes, I am…I was not fully expecting this. I am honored that the council has chosen me to rule these lands. I shall do my best to carry on the traditions we all hold dear while placing elven kind on the path of progress for those who reside within our shores.”
Umeris appeared pleased enough. The exalted cloisterer rose with the help of some royal guards and bid me to kneel before him. I glanced at V’alor. He met my gaze, smiled, and watched as I went to my knees. The crown was cold, heavy, and carried with it a weight that I feared I may falter under.
“May Ihdos crown you with the wisdom, grace, and intelligence to rule the lands of Melowynn, and may his light shine down on you and your lineage as the golden age of elves ever evolves,” the exalted cloisterer droned in the same voice he used for the liturgy and the previous king’s funeral. I suspected it was the only cadence the old soul knew. The crown was a little too large and far too weighty, but I lifted my chin as those in my chambers called out, “All hail, King Aelir! Long live the new king! Glory of Ihdos on King Aelir!” before the room fell silent. They all remained kneeling save for Umeris and the grand cloisterer.
My cheeks burned as I realized why. “Rise, please, there is no need for any of you to kneel before me,” I rushed to say.
“You are the king, we all kneel before you,” Fylson gently reminded me as everyone rose in unison. “I’m sure this is all quite a whirlwind, Your Majesty, but much needs attended to quickly before we present you to the people on the morrow.”
“Secretary Le’ral is correct,” Umeris stated while moving to stand before me. “You will now dress for your marriage ceremony. All of you need to be before the exalted cloisterer at dusk to be joined.” I saw there was more he wished to say but held back. “I assume you know what your duties to Melowynn are, Your Royal Highness, so I shall not speak upon it.”
Ah, yes, he was worried that I would spend the night with V’alor and not impregnate Raewyn. Right now, my concern was being able to walk with this crown and not have it fall off my head and clatter to the ground. Where I put my cock this night was of no concern to me at all. The good of the whole of Melowynn now rested on my shoulders.
“I’m sure His Royal Highness will fulfill all of his duties to his spouses and his realm,” Raewyn softly interjected, reaching her hand out to me. “Let us all take a few moments to gather ourselves, then we will continue with our ablutions and preparations for our wedding.”
“As you wish, Your Highness. We will discuss your schedules later,” Umeris replied with a bob of his head to the future queen, his granddaughter-by-law soon, and my soon-to-be wife. One of two wives. My husband-to-be and Merrilyn stood at my side as the chamber emptied, with Pasil and Beiro backing out of the door, and Tezen buzzing around their heads, singing a little bar ditty about the king and his girthy scepter.
“If you wish, I am happy to guide you all through the next few days. It will be overwhelming for such young people, I am sure,” Fylson offered as he lingered by the door that Pasil now guarded out in the hallway.
“Your advice would be most appreciated,” I earnestly said. “I was trained to rule a vills, not a kingdom.”
“They are much the same, Your Highness. Rule with empathy, humility, justice, and integrity, and the people will support you.”
“Thank you so very much,” I said and got a weak smile from him.
“It does my aching heart good to see you wear that crown. Raloven would have approved of the choice as do I. Now, if you do not need me further, I shall take my leave?”
“Yes, please, you are free to go,” I said. Fylson bowed and left, closing the door behind him. I glanced at the small group still with me. “I am not sure I shall ever become used to giving a great man like Fylson Le’ral permission to do anything.” V’alor placed his arm around my waist and tugged me into his side, with Raewyn clutching my hand reassuringly. “This has been a most crazed day.”
“At least you were not wearing rag rolls with a rhubarb and mud facial mask to your crowning,” Merrilyn tossed out with a wave to her puckered face and frilly dressing gown, a gown that I would not have ever thought to see on the woman. The sharp bite of her sarcasm made us all laugh.
Somehow, I felt, with their help and the guidance of those far more learned than I, we might not royally bungle ruling a kingdom.
Years later, if my child or grandchild—should Ihdos bless us with one—were to ask me what took place after the threat to their father/grandfather’s life had been imprisoned, I would be hard pressed to reply. In truth, the next few hours had found me being bathed, fed, undressed, redressed, and then hurriedly taken to stand in front of the exalted cloisterer and wed to a trio of other people just as harried as I was.
Each of us were clad in attire fitting our stations and had been treated with extra dispensation and kindliness even though the exalted cloisterer was clearly not pleased with joining three elves and a human into one union. As I was now the king, his thoughts on whom I chose as my life partner/ partners was mine to make. Knowing this, he was not about to bicker, but I could see the tightness around his mouth as the main shrine was readied for us. A thousand candles, some as tall as a tree, were lit. White and blue flower petals had been scattered over the floor, buntings of the royal colors had been hastily tied to whatever the under-clerics could fasten them to. The towering statue of Ihdos, hands raised, eyes blank, hair puddled on the ground at his bare feet, watched us as we clasped hands.
We’d all been primped and powdered, put into robes that we had never laid eyes on before, and the religious vestments draped over our finest clothes. V’alor and Merrilyn had spent a few hours with the royal tailor being measured and then outfitted in attire befitting of the king’s consorts. My husband was not overly pleased with the attention but as I reminded him while his inseam was measured, he was about to step from a past steeped in shame to stand at the king’s side. When I had mentioned growing his hair out as he would be nobility now, he gazed at me as if Atriel had kicked me in the head.
I stood among the people that I would raise a family with, looking at each of them as the exalted cloisterer, face free from wrinkle cream, began to read from a tome as old as the temple itself. The last rays of the sun lit up the slim windows as the sea, ever-present, rolled up and over white rocks to dampen the glass with sea spray. Normally, a royal wedding would be days long and filled with pomp and circumstance. Given that the elder council was desperate to get us married and mating, and that the people would get a coronation on the morrow, this union ceremony was a rushed affair. I was not offended in the least. None of us holding hands were much on extravagance. The coronation would waste enough money. A wedded party was just as wedded if they spent a few silvers or thousands in gold. It was not the accoutrements that made a joining strong. It was the people involved that crafted the strong bonds.
A long litany of prayers led the ceremony.
“With the blessing of Ihdos upon them, we seek their promises to each other.” His eyes flickered from the yellowed pages to the four of us. “To them all involved.” His unease made me smile as the itchy high collars of the holy robes scratched the back of my neck. “Do you, King Aelir Stillcloud, Ninth Sovereign of the Sublime Court of Elves, Emperor and Commander of the Elven army and navy, Blooded kin of the Queen of the Seventh Trient, Magnate of the wood, sea, air, and all the beasts within, Unifier of the Realm, Defender of the Moon Sisters, Keeper of the Holy Scepter of Ihdos, and Seeker of Serenity for the whole of Melowynn and her people take unto thyself Lady Raewyn Frostleaf, fourth daughter of the noble house of Frostleaf, fourth daughter of the High Table of Grand Testimony, Heiress to the vills of Knight’s Way, and future queen of the realm of Melowynn to be your rightful and—”
“There are two others,” I reminded the priest. His nose crinkled as if he had smelled a rotten potato.
“I beg your forgiveness, Your Highness, for my errors.” He cleared his throat. “The future queen of the realm of Melowynn, as well as Lady Merrilyn Baker, daughter of a baker, and Guard Captain V’alor Silverfrond, son of a…” His gaze darted to V’alor standing at my side, his grip on my hand tightening slightly. “The son of a citizen of Renedith.” I let out a soft breath. “Do you take unto yourself these partners in life and pledge unto Ihdos your fidelity to each?”
“I will take them all before the knowing eyes of Ihdos,” I said so loudly that the under-clerics hiding in the back were sure to hear. The same query was made of V’alor, Raewyn, and Merrilyn in order of importance to the exalted cloisterer, meaning the human went last. It didn’t seem to perturb Merrilyn over much.
More prayers were said before a nervous under-cleric arrived with four thin silver bands lying on a dark blue pillow. Two larger ones and two smaller ones. The rings were blessed and handed to me to slide onto the right index finger of my wedded partners. We had a slight issue with the smaller ring, intended for a woman, for it would not slide past Merrilyn’s knuckle. So I quickly swapped it out for the larger one, then claimed the remaining smaller band for myself. I turned to V’alor with the last band. He plucked it gently from my palm then slid it onto my finger, the fit perfect. I stared into his dark eyes far longer than I should have, but his gaze always held me. Yet more prayers were said until, finally, the exalted cloisterer handed the ancient book to an under-cleric and faced the four of us.
“We shall, of course, bring you bands more fitting. The silversmiths are hard at work as we speak but with such short notice and with so many more bands than usual…”
I waved off his explanations. “Worry not. We shall not require new bands. These are perfectly suited to us. That money can be used elsewhere. Perhaps to aid the orphans’ home?”
“We have no orphan home in Celear,” he replied, then stared at me as if I had sand crabs playing lutes atop my head. “Ah, yes, aiding the poor waifs that roam the streets is a noble cause, Your Majesty.”
“I felt it to be so. Thank you.” I graced him with a smile before leading my spouses through the shrine and out into the now cool night air. A crowd of people lined the golden gates, shouting well wishes and throwing wildflowers as we were hustled into an enclosed carriage pulled by a team of four black horses. Raewyn and I waved to the elves as they parted to let us pass. V’alor and Merrilyn sat stiffly on the plush seats, their hands in their laps, lips drawn over their teeth. I patted V’alor on his thigh. “You are allowed to wave as well. You are nobility now. Your names have been placed in the annals of Melowynn.”
“I think I shall leave the waving to you and Lady Stillcloud.” V’alor peeked out the window and shook his head. “I am not much of a waver.”
“Nor am I,” Merrilyn added before sinking back away from the round window as we clip-clopped back to Castle Avolire.
Raewyn gave her wife a kiss on the cheek as I rubbed V’alor’s meaty thigh. “You two will be the subject of much speculation.” Merrilyn and V’alor exchanged looks and rolled their eyes to the ornate roof of the carriage. “Perhaps the bards will create songs about your aloof and mysterious ways!”
“Ihdos please spare us sonnets,” they both mumbled in unison.
I hoped the pubs were soon ringing with songs about the odd Stillcloud king and his trio of life partners. I was sure the lyrics would be ribald. If only the good people knew that the only ribaldry would be between my husband and me, they would be sorely disappointed.
That night, we all gathered in my suite—the king’s massive chamber was being readied for a new monarch on the morrow—and sat before the fire sipping honeyed wine to calm our nerves. V’alor was still in his wedding finery, as we all were, his dark green vestments matching the autumnal hues of copper, bronze, and deep red we had hastily chosen.
We talked of our hopes and dreams, our plans for the immediate future, and the rebellion that was brewing in the poorer sections of Celear. We all hoped that a new regime with a mixture of noble, common, and human insight would ease the tensions in the streets. The knowledge that a few radical elves had plotted quite successfully to kill the king saddened and frightened us, for we were within a sunrise of being crowned king, queen, and royal consorts. Already there were rumblings from the masses about a human being part of the high court, but Merrilyn would prove to be a temperate consort to the queen, just as V’alor would to the new king.
Knowing that many would question the four of us sharing a room, we purposefully lingered in my chamber until dawn, the women curling up on my bed while V’alor and I wiggled ourselves into a firm chaise by the balcony doors. My head rested on his chest as my eyes drifted closed. The lyrical bells of the shrine called to us when dawn arrived on a soft breeze. I snapped awake when the future queen snorted loudly across the room. V’alor came awake with a start as well.
“Good dawn, husband,” I whispered as V’alor brushed some hair from my face.
“Good dawn, Your Majesty,” he replied before I wiggled up to press my lips to his.
“In our chambers, we are Aelir and V’alor. No titles are permitted,” I corrected quietly as the women snored softly a few feet away. Raewyn’s sleep breaths were incredibly loud. How Merrilyn dozed so easily at her side was a mystery. We both chuckled softly at the whinnies and grunts coming from such a petite woman. “If I did not know better, I would think we had fallen asleep in the stables.”
“Mm, there is a similarity betwixt the mule’s snores and the fair lady’s. Thankfully, she is not as flatulent as the mules.” I sniggered. He traced my right eyebrow with his thumb. “I am most happy to be your wedded husband. I am confident in my ability to fulfill my husbandly duties. What I am not confident about is becoming the king’s consort.”
“You will fulfill that role wonderfully. I have no doubt. What I worry over is my ability to lead a nation.” I tucked my head under his chin, the soft slide of our sleeping robes under a thick covering pleasant on my exposed thigh.
“You shall do well. You are well-liked, temperate, and possessed of a great vision for the future of all those who call Melowynn home, not just the elite.” He ran his fingers through my hair as a gull, the first of many, called out as it rode the warming thermals over the sea.
“I pray you are right,” I mumbled against his chest.
Lying here in his arms, our vows still fresh in my mind, I longed to remain here forever, but that was not to be. The streets were filling outside the castle. The poor and the rich, human, dwarf, Sandrayan, pixie, and elf. Green-skinned, dark-skinned, and pale-skinned, were filing into the capital to see a new king crowned. With a new sun shining down on Castle Avolire, I closed my eyes and let the steady thump of my beloved’s strong heart soothe the worries gathering in my soul. All I, or any elf, could do was our best, and I would ensure the people of Melowynn got my very best.