Page 9 of The Ivory King (Crowns of Melowynn #2)

THE NEXT MORNING I WOKE TO SUNSHINE . Bright, crisp, and shining on the mottled forest floor. Damp, stiff, and yet oddly excited to see the sun, I sat up, looked around our camp, and found that V’alor was the lone sentry watching over us. Everyone else was still sleeping off the exhaustion of a day in the saddle after nearly being killed.

We’d ridden hard yesterday, putting as much distance as we could betwixt ourselves and any more possible assassins. We’d ridden after dark at the behest of V’alor, weaving amongst trees and prickly bushes. Beiro finally called a halt after the moons were overhead, citing that the horses were being put into too much danger after his surefooted gray gelding stepped wrong and had nearly gone over a washout by a raging stream. There was water everywhere. Each little brook was now a rushing virago as the storm moved over the Witherhorn range, dumping more rain on the steep snowy slopes. Snow melt joined with rain created even more flooding. Everyone from the dwarves in Winterbrecht, their capital city resting on the northern side of the mountains, to the elves in Celear were going to be in dire straits come winter. I could only imagine how much snow melt was pouring into the grand dwarven city at the moment. Even the mightiest of stone doors had cracks…

So much loss of property, crops, and yes, even lives would ride hard on the king’s weary shoulders.

The king. I rubbed at my eyes. The short sleep we’d managed to catch not nearly enough to remove the strain of knowing that it might well be me carrying the weight of this natural disaster. Instead of dwelling on the future, I lay there and watched a heron soaring overhead with long wings and graceful legs. The bird was probably looking for a calm eddy to fish in. I wished him luck. We’d abandoned traveling along the riotous waterway.

Following the river was pointless as the Vilhall was in no hurry to recede. So, we entered the Glotte in the gray-speckled robes of the assassins we’d left lying for the vultures to snack upon. Beiro had suggested we don their robes to better blend in and then ride with all speed to Lake Tolso. There we could find some fisherfolk he knew who would be happy to offer us a night’s lodging and some fish stew in one of their stone huts before we continued onward. If we were amongst people, the assassins might not be so bold. And we could enquire about them. As it stood now, none of us were familiar with the cartel that was after us. We had all agreed on this plan and so today we were bound for the cold blue lake at the base of the Witherhorn. A bed, even in a stone hut, sounded glorious, as did stew of any kind. Pithy peaches had become tiresome quickly. As had this chasm between V’alor and me. I had to try something—anything—to bring him closer to me again. I refused to lose him. I would do what needed to be done by hook or by crook as the elder elves said.

And so I rose, letting my blanket fall to my feet, and padded over on wet socks to sit beside V’alor. He looked like he had ridden hard and wild for days. Which he had. He’d had little sleep. He wore his worry like the assassin’s cloak around his broad shoulders.

“My lord,” he gently said. I sat before him on the damp forest floor, my back to him as he sat upon a rounded stone. “You should get what rest you can. We will have an arduous ride if we hope to reach Lake Tolso before nightfall.”

“I would have you plait my hair,” I said, sitting on my heels before him, my eyes on the dewy clover and tiny ferns growing at the base of several dark red oaks.

“My lord, nobility does not—”

“I am aware of what nobles do. I am also aware that if not for this ridiculously long hair that assassin would not have been able to wrest me from my mount with such ease.”

He sat in silence behind me as a woodlark began his morning song.

“That is why I always found the military style much to my liking,” he finally replied, his words stiff and awkward. I hated this distance between us. We had once been so close, lovers that spent hours abed discussing the most intimate of things. Now we could barely hold a civil conversation.

“Having such hair is vainglorious and foolish if one ventures from their chaise lounge for longer than a moment,” I said and got a snort of amusement. That sound made me feel lighter much as seeing the sun had. “I would cut it off if I did not think that Umeris would pass over to Ihdos the moment he laid eyes on my shorn head.”

“The grand advisor would surely have words for you,” he commented. A moment passed, then another. A small, blue-breasted bird flitted down to drink out of a puddle to our left. It quenched its thirst and darted back into the trees. “I am not sure that I should do something as intimate as braiding your hair, my lord.”

I sighed in exasperation. “We are not wood elves. There is no greater meaning in you braiding my hair other than as a means to hide my nobility. Either plait it or use your sword and hack it off.”

There I kneeled, waiting, as V’alor sat like a potato on a platter. Then, as if my hair might contain scorpions, he lifted the golden mass. My eyes drifted closed, feeling the brush of the back of his fingers on the nape of my neck.

“I will braid it, but it will not be as well done as Kenton’s,” he said in a smoky voice that sent shivers down my spine. I knew that gruff tone well. I’d heard it every night as he made love to me. My body reacted instantly, my cock stiffening in my damp trousers.

“Looks are not important,” I replied as he laid the long tresses out in thirds, one shank over each shoulder and then one between my shoulder blades. “It is for functionality.”

“Mm, yes, you are not made for this kind of life. You are made for fine clothes, plush beds, and a soft brush to run through your hair.”

I felt a blush warm my chilly cheeks. “You describe a concubine and not an heir of the vills.” I turned my head to look back and up at him. “Do you really see me as so soft?”

“No, I do not see you as soft, Aelir. I know you are hard and firm. What I describe is how I envision you when I close my eyes. I see you in your bed as I come to you, soft and pliable, eager, with this magnificent hair spread out under you. That is how I wish you could always be. Safe, sated, and without a care.”

I felt my heart stumble over itself. “V’alor…”

He shook off the moment of sentimentality. “But life has decreed this course for you and so we shall follow it. I will see you and Lady Raewyn delivered back to Umeris safely.”

“And then what?” I asked, sliding around on my knees as he held two long handfuls of my hair. “You speak as if once we are back at court, our lives are irrevocably changed, but they need not be.”

“Aelir, you cannot have a lover whilst married to a devout woman such as Lady Raewyn.” I opened my mouth to reply. “No, I know what you will say. Yes, many nobles have lovers on the side, for many nobles marry for status and not love. But you are not like most nobles. You are too truehearted to be disloyal to your lady wife. Perhaps, if she were a noble familiar with court life, then perchance she might understand. Hells, she would probably take a lover herself, but Lady Raewyn has lived her life amongst the sisters. She is pious and pure. You cannot sully such a fine lady by allowing a lowborn to climb into your bed right after she leaves it.”

“You are not lowborn and I do not love her,” I said as he allowed my hair to glide over his fingers.

“You may in time. But even if you do not come to care for her as you do me, you will be thankful that you treated her with respect.” I shook my head. He cupped my cheek. “You cannot come to me like this again, Aelir.”

“Come to you how? With a simple request?”

“No, with that look in your eye and a plea on your lips. I am not a golem. I cannot resist you and well you know it.” He bent down to press his lips to my brow and then rose from his rock. “Perhaps you should simply pull your hair back into a tail. I am off to ready the horses.”

Damn the man. And damn his honor.

I rode out that morning with my hair in a long tail, my hood up, and in a mood most foul.

My sour mood did not lift until we reached the rocky shores of Lake Tolso at midday. The cold water lake was massive, a deep blue that reflected the puffy clouds and scraggly pines that had begun to elbow their way into the forest for the past hour or so. Small boats dotted the lake as fishing birds strolled the shores, picking what they could find to eat amongst the smooth black rocks.

Situated to the left was a small fishing village of squat stone homes. Thin dogs of brown and black sounded the alarm as we emerged from the Glotte. Heads turned from their menial tasks of hanging out wash, smoking fish, and tending fishing nets. They were poor people, that was obvious, of mixed heritage. Many were shorter than most elves, indicating some dwarven blood in their past. Most had small, pointed ears, and many had facial hair, which was a trait that we elves did not possess. They seemed a wary lot at first, many children dashing from their games of rock toss to hide behind their mother’s skirts. Heads of red, yellow, brown, and black all assessed us before one old woman, thin, obviously elven for her ears were long and tapered, broke from the gathering of elderly women scaling fish to toddle toward us.

“Beiro!” the ancient elf shouted as our guide slid from his tired horse and ran to her. They embraced with tears of joy wetting their cheeks. I glanced over at V’alor. How he had not tumbled from Sirdal’s back was a mystery. His exhaustion was evident and worrying.

“When we find shelter, you will eat and sleep,” I said to him. He gave me a look. “That is a command.”

“Yes, my lord,” he replied with little fire, a sure sign of his fatigue.

The rest of the Lake Tolso villagers, seeing that we were with Beiro, who was a friend, came charging at us, smiles on their faces. The little ones shouting and clapping was something that Atriel was not overly fond of, and she began nipping at the short fingers that were reaching for her soft nose. I patted her neck to soothe her, whispering nonsense to the horse as I had seen Beiro doing time and again on this slog of a journey.

“Move aside now, little ones.” A man with a coarse red beard worn in a plait as thick as my thigh pushed through the throng of women and children to offer me a fish. His head was bald and covered with bold tattoos, his face wrinkled with age, and his clothing smeared with fish blood and entrails. “You look the noblest among your party and so our welcome gift of a fresh yellow salmon is made to you.”

“Thank you.” I took the fish and passed it to Pasil. Tezen was flying over the heads of the little ones now, covering their hair with purple dust as they ran in circles, trying to catch the pixie princess. “We are seeking a place to rest for the night.”

“Yes, that is obvious. You all look as if you had been shat out of the damp end of a rock crab,” the dwarf stated.

“We feel much that way,” I confessed as I slid off Atriel’s back to shake hands with the spokesman for this village. “It is a pleasure to meet you. My name is—”

“No need for introductions. Even a dullard like me knows the Stillcloud sigil your men wear and the look of a noble elf. Lord Stillcloud, it is a pleasure to welcome you to the shores of Lake Tolso. I am Thavus Whitehead, the village master of Tolso on the Water. My wife is Hythra, grandmother to Beiro.”

“The pleasure is mine, Lady Hythra,” I said as I bowed courteously to the elderly elven woman in the dark red dress.

“Such breeding and manners,” Hythra said as I straightened to toss my hair over my shoulder. The tail I’d tied it into was sloppy but workable. “And noble hair. Not that I would require hair to show me that your blood is rich with aristocracy. You honor our village and our home with your presence, my lord.”

She curtsied as a lady would at court. Only the skirts that she held out to the sides were not of fine lace. They were homespun and speckled with fish blood.

I nodded and smiled as my tired mind tried to find one sign of dwarf in our guide and came up empty. One need only glance at Beiro to see his lineage was that of a finely bred elven line. Not nobility surely but above the working class and laborers. No, Beiro was decidedly an elf, but that opened up another question. Why was a woman of such obvious education and gentility living here among fisherfolk with a dwarven mate?

“The honor is ours, my lady. We thank you for your hospitality.”

Beiro stepped up. “I will tend to the horses.”

“Pasil will assist you,” V’alor told Beiro in a tone that brooked no backtalk.

“I would rather he not,” Beiro snapped. The tension radiated off the two men, causing the children nearby to quiet.

“I am the guard captain. You shall listen to my orders,” V’alor barked.

“But you did not hire me, Lord Aelir did, and so I heed only his words,” Beiro fired back, his hands already gathering reins.

“Go, tend to the horses,” I interjected. V’alor shot me a glower that did little to intimidate me. “We have been invited to dine with the village master, and that is what we shall do.” I turned from my stunned guards—all three of them—to address Thavus. “Please, Master and Lady Whitehead, lead us to your home.”

Thavus led us through the crowds of fisherfolk to his hut, a large stone abode crafted from dark black river stones. Racks of drying fish stood outside the home, much the same as all the others, as a brown pup with a fishtail in its mouth dashed by with four other puppies on his stubby tail. “Hythra just dropped the sweet water roots into the stew so it will be a bit until they’re cooked enough to chew, but please, my lord, enter our home and use it as you would your own.”

We stepped into a home filled with roughhewn furnishings, hardy tables, and woven mats of dark red and green on the wooden floors. A hearth burned nicely on the far wall and round windows looked out on the lake. A modest home with a lingering smell of fish, but a home that would offer a few hours’ respite to our haggard band. There were two rooms off the main living and cooking area, both with large beds piled high with quilts and plump pillows.

“The bedding may not be what you are used to, my lord, but the quilts are ones that I made myself and the pillows are stuffed with the down of the snow geese,” Hythra proudly informed me as she showed me to the main bedroom. “Your men may rest in our spare room and the little miss may pick her place.”

“I shall stay with my lord if he will have me,” Tezen hurried to say. I nodded. She lighted on my shoulder and whispered into my ear, “Your captain is dead on his feet. Send him to bed, my lord, lest he fall on his face into the fish and root soup later.”

“That was my plan,” I softly replied, then turned to face V’alor. “Captain, go rest. Lieutenant, you shall take first watch outside. Tezen will relieve you so you can eat and sleep. We shall leave at the first break of dawn.”

“As you wish, my lord,” both the men in copper armor replied. V’alor gave me a look that was hard to interpret as he moved to enter the smaller guest room.

I thanked our hosts, closed the door, and felt a wash of something that was close to relief move over me. The window was open. I moved toward it to stare out at the water and the small boats atop the freshwater lake. The sun shone down on the tiny waves lapping against slick rocks. The sounds of children, women and men, and dogs filled the air.

Tezen flitted up to sit on the chunky wooden windowsill, her hair flattened by the small helm now under her arm. We would need to get V’alor another.

“Do you think us safe here, my lord?”

I glanced down at her. I’d come to know the princess quite well over the past ten seasons. Much like Pasil, I thought of them more as kin than underlings.

“I am not sure I will ever feel safe again,” I confessed and got a sad sigh from my tiny friend and guardian.

V’alor slept through the evening meal.

Tezen, Pasil, and Beiro took shifts patrolling the cozy hut as I lay abed, wishing my mind would slow enough for sleep to find me. Every noise made me startle but eventually I drifted off. It was fractured sleep filled with shadowed faces, sharp blades, and silent footfalls.

Coming awake with a shout, I shook off the quilt with a grunt, sat up as sweat beaded my brow, and stared at the nub of a candle on the bedstand. Licking my fingers, I pinched the wick to throw the room into muted darkness. Soft snores could be heard through the walls as well as the sounds of pots. Easing off the straw-filled mattress, I made my way to the door, cracked it open, and saw Beiro’s grandmother fileting a large whitehead. She glanced up and smiled. Beiro and Thavus were on the floor in front of the hearth, sound asleep on thick mats, their red and bald heads the only sight of them. Tezen could be heard humming a pixie song as she stood guard at the front door, her little form unseen as she rested on the slab of wood barring the door.

“My lord,” Tezen and Hythra both said in unison.

“My ladies,” I softly answered with a short, courtly bow that made them both giggle. I moved to stand beside Hythra at a thick table covered with fish, rising bread dough in a towel-covered bowl, and a dish of something thick and white. “What is it you’re preparing?”

“A dish that my husband has every morning. Whitehead and sour cream on fresh pine seed bread,” she replied as she sliced paper-thin strips of fish from the whitehead’s side. “Nothing posh but filling.”

“I wager all the fish he eats puts some vanadium into his manly sword,” Tezen added from across the room. My face grew hot. Lady Hythra giggled like a maiden.

“Oh aye, that it does. Dwarves are known for their endurance beneath the sheets, so when one adds the potency of red fish meat to their diets, they’re unstoppable,” Hythra confided as a log snapped in the hearth. Tezen’s high-pitched laugh filled the dimly lit room.

“May I help in any way?” I asked although I knew next to nothing about cooking. Widow Poppy would have washed my mouth out with lye soap if I had even asked to help prepare anything in her kitchen. I missed my home so deeply that it was like a rotted tooth.

“No, my lord, you are above such menial things,” Hythra whispered as she filleted slice after red slice. I watched for a few moments as her deft fingers moved with years of practiced ease.

“My lady, may I ask—”

“How an elf of my bearing came to be wed to a dwarven fisherman?” Her green eyes, so much like Beiro’s, lifted from her task. “That is a long story best told around a fire with a few casks of ale. Suffice it to say that I came here after leaving a violent and lecherous spouse who ended up unceremoniously dead after a rather unfortunate hunting accident involving a rampaging bear.”

“Oh, that is…” I wasn’t sure if it was a sad telling or a glad one. If the man was a fiend and lech, then his death was perhaps a good thing. Surely there were enough foul souls roaming about Melowynn that one less would be a blessing.

“Yes, that it was.” She laid her knife aside, wiped her hands on the front of her apron, and stared at me as if trying to pluck the very thoughts from my mind. “You wear the look of a heart carrying a heavy burden. I know that look well. If you would like some herbal tea and perhaps a day-old tart, I would be more than willing to listen. Thavus tells me that my pointed ears capture his words well.”

That made me snicker. “That would be most pleasing, but you must allow me to aid you in preparing our meal in exchange.”

She pondered that for a long moment before nodding once. Within moments, I was being instructed as to how to knead the coarse dough. My arms were coated with finely ground wheat flour and my thoughts seemed to flow from my mouth as I worked the dough into a mass over and over.

“I am on my way to fetch my future bride,” I confided on a secretive breath, feeling oddly about speaking about important governmental issues with a fisherman’s wife. Doing such a thing surely went against all the rules of my upbringing.

“How wonderful!” Hythra beamed as her evergreen gaze left her fish for a moment. I sighed. “Oh, well, perhaps not so joyous news then?”

“No, it is not. There is only one who I wish to spend my life with.”

“Ah, that is a dire problem.” She slid the skeleton of one fish aside and pulled another large fish in front of her. “If I may be bold, my lord, but such is the heavy price one pays to be noble born. Marriages are arranged to serve the crown and the vills and not the heart of the people involved.”

“Yes, and I know that to be such, but I cannot…” I punched the dough soundly, sending a cloud of flour into the air. Tezen, sitting on the door, was uncharacteristically quiet. I was sure her little ears were not missing a word, though. “He will not brook any discussion of our continued relationship. It is virtuous of him to do so.” I hit the dough again. “He is all things worthy and good. Kind, generous, handsome, chivalrous, brave, and stalwart.” I began to tighten my hands into the ball of dough as I spoke. “His righteousness is just. I should not wish to besmirch the affections of the fine lady that I will wed and yet I cannot simply walk away from him, for he is my life.”

Her fishy hands settled on my forearm. I snapped out of the dough throttling taking place, loosened my grip, and dropped the ball back to the floured table. I glanced over to find her caring eyes on me.

“The path that nobility must walk is not always the gilded road that the common folk think it to be,” she confided. “I married for prestige and found no joy in the man that forced himself upon me night after night. He was a cruel man, happiest when using his fists on those weaker than he. The staff lived in terror just as I did. His death was a joyous thing, even though it should not have been.”

“I am sorry for the misery you have faced,” I said. She gently squeezed my arm.

“Thank you, but much of that was my doing for buckling to my parents’ whims. I do not wish to ever see another person promised to another just to enlarge a vills or coffers. Please, my lord Aelir, do not bend to the dictates of others. If your heart beats only for your guard captain—”

My eyes flared. “I know not what you mean!”

“I have eyes. They may be weak but they see the devotion betwixt you and he. Do not let your duty override your heart or you shall live a life of sadness.”

I thumbed some hair from my face, the tickle of a cool breeze on my neck welcomed in this warm little hut. The small window behind us let in the sound of the lapping waters and a few lonely toads.

“If only it was that easy, my lady.”

She released my forearm, gave my biceps a pat, and smiled sadly at me. “Nothing in our lives worth having is ever easy, my lord.”

Unsure of how to thank her enough for her guidance—I’d never had a feminine figure to interact with as a child—I moved in to place my right hand on her left shoulder. A small touch, not an embrace as she was not kin, but a kindness returned. I thought to say something warm and personal.

I opened my mouth to reply when Lady Hythra fell into me with a grunt. I grasped her to me, spying a dagger buried in her neck as she went slack in my arms. I jerked to the side as Tezen shouted, “To arms!” and darted toward me.

Another blade flew into the hut, slicing my cheek as I twisted downward to place Lady Hythra’s limp form on the floor. Warm, thick blood coated my shirt as her life essence spurted from her. I heard shouts as the others in the house came awake. A hand dropped to my shoulder, easing me from the dead woman and guiding me under the table where just a moment ago, we’d been making breakfast.

My sight found Beiro, his green eyes growing damp as he looked at his grandmother bleeding out in front of us. His ginger head bowed to her unmoving chest.

“Guard him with your life!” Pasil bellowed as chaos erupted around us. Doors flew open, shouts filled the cool night air, and warning horns echoed off the lake. I threw an arm around our guide, turning him from the body lying by our thighs.

“She was a kind woman with noble bearing,” I whispered, then darted out from under the table where I collided with V’alor backing into us, his shield coming up in a blur of silver to deflect an arrow.

His dark eyes flew to me, sleep still clinging to his face. “Get to safety!”

“I am safest next to you!” I replied, spinning on my heel as a dark figure slid in through the window. Thavus was already outside, his roars to his people bouncing off the icy cold lake. The poor man, not knowing his wife lay dead just six steps behind me.

V’alor shook his head and shoved me into Beiro, who was scrambling to get to me. “Get him to the horses! Ride south to Celinthe!”

“No! I will not leave you!” I yelled at V’alor, but Beiro was already shoving me toward the bedroom V’alor had just left. Pasil swooped down on me, pulling me around the table with the dough and fish, shoving me along as I battled to return to V’alor.

“We are leaving, my lord,” Pasil barked, pushing me into a small room with a tousled bed. “They will catch up. Now, my lord, we must go!”

Beiro climbed through the window with his bow and quiver, his cheeks wet, and pulled me closer even as I battled. The two of them manhandled me along, my feet tangling, as men and women fought against wraiths. I managed to grab my arrows and bow before I was shoved like a sack of lemons out the window into sheer bedlam.

I had no clue how many of the hired killers had descended on the small village, but enough to cause alarm. Or perhaps there were only a handful, but the shock of the attack had stirred the villagers to blind panic. Whatever the case, the fisherfolk were no match for trained assassins, of that I was sure. We ran to the stable, our horses nervous in their stalls. Pasil hoisted me onto Atriel’s bare back. I clutched her mane tightly, laid down close to her neck, and nudged her sides. We raced out of the tiny stables, a dapple mare, a gray gelding, and a golden mare, side by side.

A gray-cloaked form leaped from an overturned cart. Pasil beheaded the assassin in one swipe, his sword glinting in the moon’s light as we thundered along the shore of Lake Tolso. Water sprayed up over my bare feet as the horses galloped through wet rocks and foam.

I glanced back to see if V’alor and Tezen were coming up behind, but I saw naught except for round huts, a crystalline lake, and two moons gilding the water’s surface. Then the Glotte woodlands enveloped us even as tears streaked down my face as I recalled the great loss of a fine and noble elven lady. Even though I had just met her, Lady Hythra would remain with me always. As would all the brave people who had taken us in at great risk to their own safety.

I whispered a prayer to Ihdos that V’alor and Tezen would rejoin us soon. I vowed that when I next saw him, I would not allow his honor to push us apart ever again.