Page 3 of The Pastel Prince

Twin towers overlooked the vills, giving us a spectacular view while also serving as a watch space for the guards who patrolled the outer and inner baileys. Flags and banners of deepest red—the color of the Stillcloud name—flew high atop each tower. Many said they envied my position here in the castle. I never went hungry or grew cold. I had warm robes, good shoes, a bath to myself, and a library at my disposal whichwas more than many who toiled in the farms that fed the vills, I knew, and many times I felt guilty for complaining to my family in my weekly letters about my situation. While I was surviving here, I felt I was not truly living, but my duty to my goddess, my family, and my ward Aelir would keep me here.

The bird held gently in my cupped hands was stirring when I reached my room. Huffing from the climb of the spiral stairs, I padded past the rookery, one of the few places aside from the gardens where I felt at peace, and scurried into my room. Using my hip to close the door, I strode to the window with haste, leaned my elbows on the cold gray stone, and opened my hands.

Dark eyes blinked at me.

“Get yourself righted,” I said to the creature. It moved to stand, wobbly at first, then with more awareness as my magicks wore away. “I know you are far from home, but if you fly north perhaps someday, with Danubia’s blessings, you shall find the mountains once more.”

The bird chirped once. I sensed that he understood. Then he took to the air, his wings carrying him northward. I leaned on the windowsill, eyes on the bird until I could no longer see him. Feeling blessed to be doing the goddesses work in whatever small ways I could, I let my sight roam. North, in the direction the oriole flew, lay the mountains far from view. I’d never visited the craggy, snow-covered peaks but had seen a few dwarven and yeti delegates at the yearly feasts held at the capital. I’d traveled as Aelir’s companion several times, my green skin pulling some uncomfortable looks from the upper echelon.

To the south lay the capital city that sat along the shore of the Silvural Sea.

To the west were the settlements of Kanazem and Ballybar. Scattered bands of humans were given permission to live there. Most resided near the Galasdes Gulf and many of them fishedthe wild waters that held the Black Sand Isles and where the Sandrayans lived in seclusion.

After the wars and the illnesses that the humans seemed to harbor, it was surprising that any would be found in Melowynn, but Aelir’s father and mother had been compassionate people. They’d petitioned hard for humans to live within our borders. It had taken many years, but the king had relented, with many provisos and medical checks. I could relate in some ways. While my skin and hair set me apart, I was still elven, just a much poorer, improperly religiously educated, and incredibly distant relation. The humans were not much cared for and thought to be a mere step above animals.

I’d not had much interaction with humans but found that I much preferred to spend time with the beasts of the forest than many of the entitled, elitist elves that looked down their pasty, long noses at those not like them. Mayhap the humans would be like the creatures of the woods, friendly and misunderstood…

The creaking of my door pulled me from my musings. One of the castle guards stood in the wooden frame, their red half cape signifying she was one of Umeris’s personal guards.

“The Grand Advisor would see you in the southern solarium now,” the woman informed me, giving my room a fast, disapproving look before backing out and closing the door with a snap. No reply was required.

When Umeris Stillcloud, Grand Advisor to King Raloven and Ruler of the Vills of Renedith, bid you to be in the southern solarium now, you went immediately.

And so I ran like the wild elf they all assumed I was.

BARE FEET SLAPPING SLATEmined in the Witherhorn range, I nearly skidded past the glass and wood door to the southern solarium. Two guards stood on either side of the richly detailed doors, looking at me through their helms with only mild disdain.

“He waits,” the taller on the left of the door informed me.

“My thanks,” I panted, placing a hand on the left door and giving it a gentle push.

The hinges were silent, the left half of the ornate door filled with stained glass bearing the bright red tones of the Stillcloud crest easing inward. I stepped inside, inhaling the dry, hot air as I did my best to block out the unhappy emotions each potted plant and tree in here exuded like pheromones. The room was large, bigger by far than the other solariums in the keep. Several long, thin plaits slid over my shoulder. I hurried to gather them into a knot and tie them at the base of my neck. Since only the nobles here were permitted to have long hair, my braids were considered a slap in the face of those who housed and fed me.

“Come closer, boy,” I heard Umeris call from the farthest corner of the room. I moved among fronds of plants that needed more moisture in the air. Each one I passed, I touched, sending some tender care into the plant. Many grew new shoots at my touch, the sight easing my upset at their less than stellar care. “Be quick. I have a full docket to tend to today.”

“Yes, of course,” I softly replied, easing past a large plant with pink flowers the size of a mammoth’s foot. The stamens, bright yellow and covered with pollen, turned to me. I touched them gingerly, then moved a step to rub my now sticky fingers on the eager stems of another flower. There were no natural pollinators in here as insects were considered dirty and distasteful. And yes, many were, some carried sickness, but not all should be banished from the castle. Surely, a few bees entering the keep would bring no harm, but what did I know? Casting my eyes to the domed ceiling internally, I walked toward the floor-to-ceiling windows, my eyes catching the splatter of bird droppings on the hem of my robes. I lifted my hands and gasped when I spied dried white shit on my palms.

“Do not dawdle among the plants, boy, come forth now,” Umeris barked.

I hurried to shove my hands into the pockets of my robes, my fingers diving into soft bits of herbs, leaves, and some moss that I had picked in the garden for my potions. I stepped into the light of the sun as it fell on the silver head of the patriarch of Renedith.

Umeris was an aged elf, well into his seven hundredth year, and was just now starting to show the effects of his advanced age. Elves aged quite slowly in comparison to humans, dwarves, or the yeti we shared our world with. Much like the stone folk of Witherhorn, we are born as infants and grow at a rate comparable to them. We reach adulthood physically at twenty summers, as I am now, but are not considered to be mature adults by our people until we are over one hundred. Although we still look as we did at twenty, for at that age, we cease to show signs of aging—other than the graying once blond, black, or brown hair—and the body does tend to grow a bit frail after seven hundred, we are able to live close to a millennium if we tend to ourselves well.

Dwarves do not live as long as we do. Many cite the dangers of mining as part of the reason. Many say it is just their way. Most pass at four hundred, but a few do reach five hundred summers. Humans are graced to see a hundred. None knew how long the yeti or Sandrayans lived.

“Come closer,” Umeris beckoned with a wiggle of two long fingers heavy with gold rings. I strode closer to where he sat on a plush chaise. His floor-length hair was parted in the middle and laid on the floor in a puddle. He was clothed in deep gray robes with red satin stitching shot through it. His lap was covered with a white pelt the size of my bed, the fur rich and thick. It covered him from chest to toes, his feet propped upon pillows, the tassels peeking out from under the pelt. Ah, so his foot malady had kept him from morning prayers in town. He had probably used the small chapel here in the keep and sent Aelir in his stead. I tore my sight from the fur and bowed deeply. “Did you just leave the rookery?”

“No, Your Grace, I was…”Stealing one of your birds and setting it free?“I was cleaning the bird cages in the gardens. The birds are plump but seem to be unhappy at being caged.”

“Do not bother me with the twittering of birds that should be grateful for the food and gracious living spaces they are given free from roaming cats.”

“Yes, Your Grace, I do apologize.”

“There on the desk is something for you to examine.”

I glanced up. Umeris studied me with blue eyes that held great wisdom, but also a spattering of what appeared to be mild concern. My eyes touched on an oddly colored raven lying on its back.

“Oh, a missive. Did the raven not return to the rookery?” I asked, confused about being summoned here to get a letter from home. I glanced at the table he referred to, a long one of sweetswamp oak, with a matching chair from where he usually did his paperwork.

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