Page 17 of The Ivory King (Crowns of Melowynn #2)

IF ONLY THE REST OF THE DAY COULD HAVE BEEN SO PLEASANT.

I was pulled from my husband’s arms with a thunderous round of knocks on my door followed by my grandfather’s bellows to rise. Umeris, clad in his imperial grand advisor robes of white and blue, watched as Raewyn and Merrilyn exited with a nod of their rumpled heads at him before entering with a small contingency of staff who then began moving me and V’alor about the room as if we were dressmaker’s dummies. Into a bath where we were scrubbed, then oiled, then dried off with soft toweling. V’alor muttered throughout as Umeris, seated in the chair by the desk, his silver hair free, a slim coronet with sapphires set into gold atop his head, began reading the day’s itinerary. Another knock, another staff member bustled in, his eyes wide as Umeris glanced up at his arrival.

“Place his clothes on the bed,” Umeris said. The young elf tossed V’alor’s meager possessions to the unmade bed and darted away. “Silly child.” Umeris sighed before returning to tell me what the day held. “Are you listening, Aelir? I do not wish to have to guide you through this by the hand as if you were a lad.”

I glanced around at a young woman who was working a comb through my hair, which was a knotted mess. Each tug made me wince. Each yank pulled an apology from the girl, which I waved off with a smile and watering eyes. V’alor stood in the corner, arms out as an old elf, I had to assume was the royal tailor, flitted about him, pinning a new outfit of plum with gold threading.

“I’m rather sure I can find the shrine,” I snapped back. Umeris studied me. Several of the castle staff made small sounds of unease at his expression. I could only assume they would have fainted if the dark look at been aimed at them. “I did manage to travel to Celinthe to locate my future queen and then return without your hand on my leading strings.”

“Your tart tongue is not required,” Umeris commented.

“Neither is this purple suit,” V’alor mumbled. The tailor gave him a sour look. “Apologies, good tailor, it is a lovely color. Fitting of a king’s consort.”

He got a harrumph in return.

“If we could continue, please?” Umeris asked as a gusty, salty wind blew into the suite. “You will be—” A small rapping on the door cut off my grandfather. “By Ihdos! Come in and leave whatever it is you carry!” Two young men rushed in with trays of food. “Place it on the desk and be quick about it.” They did as bid, then ran out. A guardsman I did not know closed the door. “Why is it that the younger generation of elves are so flighty? Who trains the staff in this castle? When I was a young elf, servants were taught their roles and respect before they were allowed near a noble or royal personage.”

“Much has changed in the two thousand years you have been alive,” I said and grunted at a particularly strong tug on my hair. Umeris shot me a flat look at the wild exaggeration of his age. Yes, he was old, but not that old. Yet.

“Apologies, Your Majesty,” the hairdresser whispered.

“It is fine. I should have combed it before my bath. You are doing well.” I smiled at her.

“I hope your temper this morning runs its course quickly. You have much to oversee, and I will not make apologies all day long for a truculent monarch.” I rolled my eyes at V’alor, who was being pinned in rather delicate places. The man was not amused. “After you are fed and readied, you shall proceed to the shrine of Ihdos via a circuitous route through the streets of Celear so the whole of the city may see you and your…your…” He looked at V’alor. “Your entourage of wedded partners.” That made me smile to myself. “Once in the shrine, you shall be presented with the holy scepter and the robes of wisdom. After that presentation—” He paused when my stomach rumbled. “Would someone please feed the king?”

A half dozen elves rushed to the covered platters on the desk. Dishes of figs, cooked eggs, fruit, bacon, pungent cheeses, warm dark bread, butter, and honey were uncovered. Tea was poured and carried to me, and then V’alor, who reached for the cup, yelped as a pin was driven into his arse. I snorted. The tailor tsked my husband. Umeris held out his hand for a cup of sweetened tea that was immediately delivered.

“Are there no honey cakes?” I asked. I’d been hoping to fill up with some of Widow Poppy’s delicacies. The staff looked between themselves with wide, worried eyes.

“We shall send a runner to the kitchens to inform—” a meek elven lass with short red curls began.

“No, no, that is fine. This is a lovely setting. I was just yearning for honey cakes.” I assured them when a knot the size of my fist was discovered by my nervous hairdresser.

“Apologies, Your Majesty,” she meekly whispered.

“Tell Widow Poppy to ensure that the king has honey cakes for his breakfast from this day forward,” Umeris snapped and four of the staffers quaked. “Aelir?” I looked from the dish that had been put into my hands to my grandfather. “After the presentation of the holy scepter and the robes of wisdom, you will make the oath of regency in front of the nobility of Melowynn and those who have been invited. The gathering will be small given the short amount of time for invitations to be sent out, but there is no help for that. After your oath, the exalted cloisterer will anoint you with holy oil, then you shall be crowned and robed.”

“I have already been crowned,” I pointed out around a bite of hearty bread with rye and sesame seeds.

“That was a provisional crowning. This one will be officially entered into the scrolls of lineage and pedigree.” I opened my mouth. “No, do not argue this point. It is how things are done, Aelir. I am aware you bristle at tradition.”

“I do not bristle at tradition. I bristle at old ways that have outlived their use or bigoted precedent that serves to keep some people in poverty while others live in grandeur. I chafe at—”

“Please, spare us the ramblings of the youthful idealists. I am well aware of what chafes you, Aelir. I have heard your speeches for years. I do hope that when you pick your advisors, you choose men and women who are not going to kiss the ring simply to curry favor.”

“I…I’ve not thought about my choice of advisors yet,” I confessed as I plucked a slice of a pink apple from my dish. “I had assumed you would stay on as one of my two most trusted regents.”

Some of the aggravation left his face. “I would be honored, Your Highness,” Umeris replied, then quickly returned to our schedule. “After the robing and crowning, you shall be taken back to Avolire, where you shall be seated on the ivory throne in the throne room with your queen on your right and the other consorts. I have been advised that new smaller thrones for the consorts are already under construction, but for now, they shall have to stand four steps behind on either side of the royal couples’ thrones. Once you all are ready, homage from the visiting dignitaries will begin. Afterward, there will be a feast.”

“When will I be able to speak with the people of Melowynn? I wish to hear what they have to say about the kingdom and their thoughts on how better to rule it.”

Umeris sighed. “Aelir, they will see you during the processions. Surely you do not wish to simply throw open the doors of Avolire and let murderers flow into the castle? Has one king’s death not been enough?”

“Well, no, yes, of course I merely—”

“You will have monthly meetings with the public to hear their complaints.”

I nodded, chewed, and looked past Umeris, who was now filling my ear about titles. I caught sight of a pair of gray-and-white gulls soaring skyward. How free they were, wings spread, the wind lifting them higher and higher. I wondered if I would ever be that carefree again. Would I ever again run through the woods with Kenton to find seeds and toads and badger dens?

“Aelir, you must pay attention. There are petitions and new peerage titles for you to decide upon.” My grandfather’s sharp voice pulled me from the clouds. What did I know of titles and why did new peerage have to be appointed? Simply because a new king sat on the throne? What would become of the old title holders? What was the basis for giving out new titles? Would those who were not given titles retaliate against me and mine? None of my tutors had ever touched on this topic. Only princes would be taught such things, not heirs of vills.

“You will do fine, my love,” V’alor said as my mind began to spiral with worry. I licked the crumbs from my lips, smiled at my husband, and nodded. Yes, I would do fine. If I kept repeating that to myself for the rest of my life, I might start to believe it. Maybe. If I grew to be as old as Umeris. “Ouch! Why are your pins so sharp?!”

“They would be of little use if they were dull, Your Grace,” the tailor shot back while plucking another silver needle from the pincushion on his thin wrist.

“Your wit is as sharp as your needles, good tailor.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

V’alor and I both chuckled at the tailor’s quick humor, our gazes gently touching.

I would carry his warm gaze and soft chortle with me through what would be a long, boring, and tiring day of pompatus.

If I thought that a day filled with grandeur and overindulgent feasting was excessive, nothing prepared me for the sight of the king’s sleeping chamber.

With V’alor at my side, for the queen and her consort had retired earlier, citing a tightening of the queen’s internals, we stood stock still just inside one of four doors leading into a room the size of the smallest ballroom in Avolire. One door led to a hallway that fed into the queen’s sleeping area. Another led to a room where I would be dressed and undressed daily by a fleet of valets that I had yet to get to know by name. Another door was to V’alor’s chamber, a bit smaller but just as overindulgent, done in shades of dark green and plum.

The sound of flutes filled the room from the six flutists sitting on padded white footstools at the foot of the bed. The bed itself could easily hold a small contingent of people. The canopies were white with blue peonies that matched the walls.

Yes, the walls were white with blue flocked flowers. The floors were made of glistening ivory marble squares, and the wardrobes were deepest royal blue. There were statues of past kings on pedestals in the corners, and in front of a wall of slim windows that opened to the gardens, a small table of purest white birch wood held a huge vase filled with blue peonies.

“I know that Raloven was fond of peonies,” V’alor commented as the six elves playing an old tune about love and fidelity played on. “But the flautists?”

“I think I mentioned to Fylson that I enjoyed flute music over the coronation feast.”

“Ah.”

I took a few steps into the room. “Your music is most enjoyable, but my husband and I would like to undress now,” I told the players.

“King Raloven requested we play on until he was asleep, Your Majesty,” an older woman in magenta robes explained.

“Oh, well, that does sound lovely, but we would like some privacy,” I said as my cheeks grew warm. The musicians all hurried to leave. Only to be replaced by two valets who gave us their names—Parvel and Parsis—twins by birth and then informed us that they were to be the king’s and his consort’s keepers of our private closets. They were handsome men, older than V’alor but still in their prime, who waited patiently for us to make a move.

V’alor threw a look at me. “You are the king,” he said with a touch of wry humor.

“Yes, that I am.” I let out a weary breath. “Good elves of the private closets, as much as we appreciate your dedication to your duty, my husband and I will be undressing each other this night.”

“As you wish, Your Majesty. We sleep betwixt your chambers, so if you have need of us, you need to simply ring the bell on your nightstand,” Parvel informed us before they slipped out the door leading to V’alor’s room.

“What manner of need would we have of them?” V’alor asked as he began to peel himself out of his plum suit. “Would we call out for them should our underclothes become twisted on our balls?”

“If that were to be the case, I would free them for you,” I said as I flopped down on one of the six stools at the foot of the bed. It was still warm.

My body began to melt into the softly padded tuffet. “I am exhausted,” I admitted out loud for the first time in over two days. “Perhaps we sent the valets away prematurely. I might not be able to reach my boots to remove them.”

“We do not need valets. I will happily undress you, Your Highness.” V’alor padded over to me, his body moving with a slight swagger that made my mouth water. Even now, as depleted as I was, my body reacted. Cock twitching in my tight breeches, I watched as he neared, his gaze smoldering. He kneeled. My prick began to stiffen at the sight. I spread my legs. “Your boots must come off first.”

“No titles in our bedchambers,” I gently reminded him as I lifted one leg. “Then remove it, and then the other. We have been remiss in our duties.”

His eyebrow quirked. “Remiss how? We have done everything that Umeris dictated down to feasting on blooded goat.” His face said it all.

“The dwarves consider it a delicacy,” I reminded him as he took my foot, hand on one heel, and tugged my soft white kid boot off.

“I considered it disgusting. Who would serve such a dish? Why would they even suggest dipping your meat into a bowl of spiced blood? Are they ghouls of the stone?” He yanked the other boot off, tossed it aside, and then reached for the ties of my breeches.

“You seem to be in a rush to remove my trousers,” I commented as he plucked the ties open with deft fingers.

“It has been a long time, Aelir, and I yearn to sink into you.”

My prick pulsed with want. Indeed, it had been some time since we had lain together. The needs of Melowynn had come before our own, something that I was sure would happen on a regular basis now that I sat on the throne.

“I yearn for that as well,” I whispered softly as I lifted my ass up so he could divest me of my undergarment and pants in one hard tug. My cock sprang free, slapping my belly, the wet head peeking out of my foreskin. “Also, it will add another duty completed to our long list.”

He buried his face into my belly and sucked a mark on my abdomen that made me writhe in pleasure and pain. I ran my hands over his bare shoulders, up into his short hair, and steered his mouth downward to my aching cock. He sucked me down greedily, the hot wet glory of his throat bringing my ass up off the stool with a shout. “Ah, yes, that is marvelous.”

He rolled my balls in his hand as he moaned low and deep. My stones tightened as his hum vibrated through my shaft and into my sack. “I need you inside me,” I gasped, rolling my hips in a circle as I tugged at my shirt. The tip of his finger found my hole. “V’alor, now…now…please. Please!”

He pulled off my slick prick with a pop, his gaze aflame as his sight met mine. “Such a demanding monarch,” he teased, pressing his finger in just enough to make me squirm like an earthworm.

“I’ve always been demanding when it comes to making love with you,” I said, ripping at my silken shirt in a frenzy to be free from it. A few seams on a sleeve tore. I cared not. All I wanted now was to be under this man. “Damnation, this shirt is a nightmare.”

“Let me.” Sadly, that tempting finger in my ass disappeared. V’alor took hold of the richly appointed formal shirt with both hands. With a smile that sent tingles to my core, he ripped it open. I stared down at the shredded shirt in shock and then, with a wildness that I did not know I possessed, I tore at it further, yanking the ripped halves off and flinging them over my head. “You are a vision.”

I dove at him, pressing my mouth to his. His tongue slid over mine as he wiggled his hands under my buttocks and stood. I groaned into the sloppy kiss while he stepped up onto the raised platform that held the king’s enormous bed. My enormous bed. No, our enormous bed, for I planned on waking next to my beloved for centuries.

He placed me on the thick mattress, the smell of crushed lilac coming from the duvet flowing over us as we lay upon it. My hands roamed over his hot skin while our tongues tangled. His cock settled next to mine, thick and as hard as the handle of the bed warmer resting near the hearth. We would have no need to have that waved under the sheets to keep us warm this night. With a soft whine, I found his breeches blocking me from his bare flanks.

“They must go,” he grunted, pushing back to stand. With a speed that was impressive, he shucked his remaining clothing to the side. His prick stood proudly out from his body.

I licked my lips as I slid a hand down under my balls to tickle my furl. His eyes turned as black as night as his nostrils flared.

“In the nightstand is a jar of blue abalone oil,” I said while fingering myself with just the tip of my finger. “The Sandrayan envoy said it was a gift that would ease the way when one is seeking pleasure with another man.”

His eyebrows dropped into a deep V. “I am not sure I like the idea of you discussing such intimate things with that man.”

“You have no worries, my sweet, trust me. All others pale in comparison to you. Now, fetch the abalone oil that I had delivered earlier, coat your cock, and sink into me before I go mad with want.”

“So imperious,” he teased, low and gruff, as he pulled a small sack of dark red from the nightstand. Small bottles clinked together. He plucked one of three free, popped the cork, and gave it a sniff. “Mm, that is enticing.”

“It smells of the Black Sand Isles, does it not? Spicy and floral with a touch of the sea.” I gave my cock a tug, which, thankfully, got his nose out of the oil bottle. He smeared a handful on his prick before easing two fingers into me. Moaning aloud, I grabbed my knees to bring them to my chest, opening myself up for him. “Please…I need you in me.”

“And I need you ready.”

“I am ready,” I spat, just as he found that magical spot inside me. I cried out, clawed at the bed, and nearly spilled right then. “V’alor, by damn, I am desperate!”

With a grunt, he removed his fingers, found a bolster pillow with delicate embroidery, and shoved it under my ass right before he sank in, down to his balls. My spine arched as he buried himself so deeply it was hard to catch my breath.

“Yes, yes, oh yes!” I shouted, fingers knotted in the bedding. “Now…hard…I wish to travel to the moons!”

“I will do my best to take you where you wish, my love.” He began to move, his hands on my shins, his cock moving in then easing out. I placed my hands over his and gave myself over to the sensations. The pressure, the stretch, the glide of his fat cockhead over the mystical spot. The cries that filled the chamber were mine, the deep huffs were his, the words of love and adoration both of ours. When I hit the stars, my body convulsed, seed spewing over my stomach and chest, several droplets dotting my chin. V’alor tensed, his neck tight, jaw locked, as he exploded deep inside me. The pulse of his cock made my prick ooze more spend. We went thusly for ages, it seemed, my ass milking him until I could take no more.

He seemed to sense my overstimulation, for he eased out, resting on his heels, his breathing labored. I let my legs fall open and my eyes close as I struggled to find enough air to fill my lungs.

“Truly seeing you thusly is my greatest joy in life,” V’alor panted as he trailed a finger down over my balls to press some leaking seed back into me. I quaked at the feeling. “I adore you, Aelir.”

I held out my arms for him. He moved over me, between my legs, and fell atop me. The bolster squirted out from under us, his weight making me chuckle and wheeze as his mouth slanted over mine. I wrapped him up tightly in my arms and legs like a swaddled babe, my tongue sliding over his as the scent of man, sex, and blue abalone oil floated around us.

“And I love you deeply, forever.” I kissed him several times, my eyes growing misty with emotion as we melted into the bedding. “Never move from here.”

“It would be unseemly for you to meet the villagers of the realm lying here on your back with my spend oozing from your pink hole,” he said, nipped at my lower lip, and then eased his bulk from my chest. I held on tight, rolling over with him, to sit upon his sweaty thighs as my damp hair fell down over my back.

“We would wear robes,” I teased as I plucked at one of his tight nipples. He squeaked in a most unmanly way just as a soft rapping at one of the chamber doors slipped into our play. “Ugh, if that is one of the valets come to warm the sheets…”

“Aelir, it is Merrilyn,” my wife—that was a term for her that I would need some time to come to terms with—called out. “Please let me in.”

I looked down at V’alor. He smiled softly. “You had best let her enter. She is not one to put off for long. I wager she would knock the door clean from its hinges.” He was probably correct.

“Momentarily!” I shouted, stole a kiss, and eased off the bed with a tiny wince. My hole was tender, but I was not complaining. That burn would linger and I would revel in it. “We are not dressed,” I added as I found what remained of my shirt, wiped between my legs, and ran to the wardrobe for robes. I found one for myself. “You shall have to hide under the covers,” I said as I pulled the thick white and blue bathrobe over my arms.

“I hope this is not a common occurrence,” he grumbled as he kicked the tangled duvet off his long legs and stepped down to find his breeches.

“As do I,” I whispered as he tugged his trousers up over his ass. I tied my robe tightly and waddled to the doorway that led to the queen’s chambers. Opening it, I peeked out and up at Merrilyn in a demure gown of soft pink. “Is there a problem?”

She handed me an empty glass jar. I blinked at it and then at her. She rolled her eyes. “I am not sure what you wish—”

“It is time.”

I peeked around her down the dimly lit corridor. “Time for what?”

“Time to make an heir,” she flatly informed me. I caught a glimpse of a young female elf carrying a bundle of clothes down the hall.

“Come in, please,” I whispered, moving aside. This was not exactly a conversation that the castle staff should be privy to. Merrilyn moved around me to enter our chamber.

“It reeks like a brothel in here,” she commented with a long look at V’alor, trying to cover his upper half with one of my too-small shirts.

“What shall I do with this?” I asked her.

“Truly?” She seemed less than pleased with my question. “You are to fill it with seed.”

“With you in the room?!”

Her nose wrinkled. “No. I shall wait in the corridor.”

I glanced at V’alor and back at Merrilyn. “How am I to produce what is required of me under such duress?”

“Perhaps your husband can lend a hand.” I stared at her. “When you are done, I shall take it to the queen, and we shall do what needs to be done on our end.”

“Which is?” I asked as I stared at the jar. It was quite large. How was I to fill such a large container? Did these women think I am a bull ox?

“Nothing that the king needs to worry over. Now, hurry. She is lying on the bed in a most unqueenly position.”

With that, she left.

I looked at V’alor. “The mysteries of womanhood are deep and frightening.”

“Would you like a hand with that then?” He motioned to the jar in my hand.

“Perhaps.”

He walked over, slid his hand into my robe, and shoved one shoulder free. “We shall do what we can. After all, the future of the kingdom hangs in the balance.”

“Mm, yes. We do not want to let Melowynn down,” I whispered as I went to my toes to kiss him deeply.

The things a king was called upon to do for his people and his country…