Page 37 of The Pastel Prince

He plucked a dirty braid from my shoulder and wound it around his finger. My sight lingered on his face, his eyes especially, as he twirled the plait as if mesmerized by it.

“For one so sheltered, your wisdom is vast,” he softly said, his gaze lifting from the braid to lock with mine. “Thank you. For being so understanding. Deep in my heart, I know your words to be true, but the knowledge of that truth does little to ease the pain.”

I moved closer. He opened his arms to envelop me in his solid embrace. “I am no great healer, but if my uttering the simple truth of your character eases your burden, I am happy to linger in your arms and sing a song about your virtues every day.”

He smiled, a wobbly thin thing, but a smile just the same. “There is nothing I would like better than to have you in my arms every day.”

“Then so it shall be,” I announced with as much regality as I could. I buried my nose into his chest, the auburn curls peeking out of the top of his grimy shirt tickling my brow. “We will linger abed every morn, well past prayers, and I shall fill your ears with your glory day in and day out until you believe what I say.”

“Mm, then I shall roll you to your back as the dawn kisses your fair cheeks and regale you with reminders of your mighty magicks.”

I drew in a long breath, filling my lungs with his scent. “We are truly a pair of smelts are we not?” He nuzzled his nose into the top of my head, his arms cinching tightly around me. I laid my cheek on his breast. His heart thumped strong and steady. Two words out of a hundred that would describe this man. “I know we have much to settle once we return, but I would very much like it if you would consider coming to Renedith? I know it is a large city, and your soul, like mine, pines for the forest but there is so much to do yet. The goddess sent me to Aelir for a reason and I do feel that reason has presented itself to me. I dream of being able to teach the youth of Renedith that there is goodness in all faiths, that the creatures they cage deserve to live free as the goddess intended, and that acceptance of others whose skin may be a differing hue is right and true.” I pulled back, just a hair, to look up at him. “If you are not willing to live at the castle then I would—”

“Hush,” he said, placing his lips over mine in a tender, chaste kiss. “The goddess has sent you to Aelir for a purpose. It will present itself when she so decrees. Until then, and after if you wish it so, I would be at your side.”

I grinned widely and shot to my toes to steal another kiss.

“Hey, you two over there by the tree, find a bedroll!” Tezen shouted over the crackling fire.

My cheeks warmed. “Perhaps we should join them?” I held out my hand. “The pain of loss is always lessened when you share it with those who care for you.”

He nodded, and we walked back to the fire, hand in hand, as the moons of Melowynn climbed higher in the starry sky. A sky that all who called these lands home could once more gaze upon.

We had just taken our seats upon our bedrolls when Nin, ever vigilant, let loose a shrill warning call. The horses and donkey began to shift restlessly.

Strangers! Strangers!

We shot to our boots, reaching for weapons, unsure of what it was that might come out of the darkness. Nin cried out a warning repeatedly, bouncing on his snowy bough, before a tall form strode out of the dark, ruby red robes with white trim that proclaimed the person wearing it to be a purge cleric.

“There are no sick elves here!” I shouted, stepping forward as more and more clerics gathered around us. “It was never a plague. Let us explain!”

The sleek hood on the tallest cleric fell back to reveal an elf with bright yellow eyes, a bald head, and bearing the six pronged symbol of Ihdos, the god the city elves worshipped, inked into her brow. She raised a hand to show that no magicks were readied. The others followed suit, bald heads exposed, hands raised in a peaceful gesture.

“We have come at the behest of Umeris Stillcloud to aid you in the eradication of…” She glanced about, her keen gaze falling on the body of Maverus wrapped in four different cloaks. “Are we too late to assist you or is that one of your party? We can bring them back if you wish as long as the heart and brain have not frozen.”

“No,” Beirach interjected. “No, he is not to be resurrected. He will be presented to Danubia once we are back in the Verboten, and there he shall find his next life serving the goddess.”

The cleric looked at me. “What the archdruid says stands,” I said. “You know of our ways. Life and death are natural events that only the goddess should have power over.” I got a cold look from the cleric, but she did finally nod, just once. “His curse is now lifted as his magicks have died with him.”

“Then we shall make camp here for the night and leave in the morning. Does any in your party require healing?” she asked, glancing at the four of us coated in dried blood and gore.

“Thank you, but we have all been healed by a higher source,” I replied and gave her a respectful short bow. “You are welcome to rest with us. The more people, the less chance of crag wolves sneaking in to try to steal us or our horses away.”

“We thank you,” she said, and the band of perhaps twenty red-robed clerics entered the circle of firelight. They sat close to the flames, hands out, legs folded as ours were, warming themselves, curiosity in their eyes. They passed around some jerky and water. Finally, after they had some food in them and were relatively warm, the leader spoke to Beirach, his maturity and bearing as an archdruid the reason she addressed him, I suspected, which was fine. I was too weary and my head too busy to try to untangle things for her. “Your apprentice spoke of being healed by a higher source. It would interest me as well as the clerics counsel in Renedith to know of where and how this healing took place.”

Beirach leaned forward to glance at me. I met his gaze. His thoughts may not be inside my head—praise the goddess—but we exchanged looks that made it clear what the other was thinking. We would do what we could to keep the fountain’s whereabouts unknown to those outside of our druidic followings. The yeti patrolled Mother Moth well. The wellspring would remain a secret of the forest elves for as long as possible. Exposing it to others would open it up to extremists or those not aligned with keeping the earth green and healthy. Bissori sat among the clerics, encouraging them to sample his pumpkin beer while Tezen sat on my shoulder sipping beer and yawning.

“We found the necromancer in yeti lands, battled him, and ended his life,” Beirach explained, his words catching on the falsehood as he spoke. “During the battle, we were injured.Danubia appeared to us, blessed us all for ending his mad scheme, and cast a strong spell upon us as a gift of thanks. Also, to clarify, Kenton is not my apprentice, unless he may wish to be when we are settled back into our lives. He is my beloved.”

Tezen hugged my neck as I smiled soppily at Beirach. “And you are mine,” I replied shyly.

“Do I hear wedding songs in the icy wind?” the pixie asked, giving my earlobe a playful tug.

I said nothing to verify or deny. Only time and the goddess knew what our futures held for us.

A man could wish and hope, though…

AFTER THE PASSING OF SEVERAL MOONS, we rode into Renedith, with Tezen sitting between Atreil’s pricked ears. I had never entered the city with a contingent of purge clerics before and, in all honesty, I hoped to never do so again. The common people of Melowynn gave the bald clerics a wide berth for their reputation far preceded them. I’d found them to be distant, unwilling to engage in talk of any kind other than that which pertained to their tasks. They did offer to cast a spell upon the body of Maverus to slow its decay as we had been bid to report to Umeris before heading to the woodlands to offer the son of Beirach to the goddess.

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