Page 42 of The Pastel Prince

“Please rise, Larell. Neither of us cling to protocol so you may call us Beirach and Kenton,” Beirach explained as he knotted the sheet around his waist. Larell glanced at me. I nodded and smiled as I held the cover under my chin.

“I cannot do that, but I thank you just the same. Shall I draw a fresh bath?” He scurried around the room and draped what I now saw were richly appointed court clothing over the back of a padded seat behind the changing screen. One was a deep dark green like the Verboten in summer and the other a royal blue.

“No, that is not necessary,” I said, smiling to myself as I recalled taking several icy cold T P & A—tuppy, pits, and ass as Tezen coined them—baths in brooks and small ponds all over the Verboten.

“As you wish. Then shall I begin braiding your hair, Your Highness?” He showed me a handful of cloth strips, cut thin,that matched the green outfit. “I am quite good at the intricate braids that the children of the forest favor for—”

“I shall braid his hair,” Beirach interjected, stalling the servant mid-sentence. I gaped at the rough edge to his tone. “You may leave us, Larell.”

“But I should at least stay to ensure that the measurements are correct.” Larell waved a quaking hand at the clothes.

“We’ll ring for you if they need to be amended,” I said as kindly as I could.

“As you wish, Your Highness.” Larell dropped the cloth strips onto a silver tray atop a small dresser that held other grooming items, including a hand mirror with red rubies in the handle. The servant made a hasty exit. I let the cover drop to my lap. Beirach ran his fingers through his hair, the late afternoon sun gilding the reddish-brown mass with bright streaks of gold.

“I can feel your displeasure,” the big man said as he slowly turned to face me. “I was…discourteous to poor Larell. I will apologize later. It was just the thought of another man braiding your hair…”

Ah, so that was what prompted his unusual sourness. “No man will ever braid my hair but you. So, if you please, would you gather up the brush from the dresser and come to sit behind me? It will take some time for you to do my braids.”

He gathered the soft bristled brush, the slim green cloth ties, and climbed into bed. I wiggled down from the pillows, the coverlet wound about me, to make space for him to rest his back on the ornately carved headboard. When he was settled, I moved backward on my ass and sighed at the first pass of the brush through my hair.

“I would not have thought you a jealous sort,” I confessed as he tenderly worked the first of what would be many tangles from my hair.

“Nor did I, but it seems that I am quite possessive of my new love.” He dropped a kiss on my shoulder. “I shall work on calming that animalistic nature of mine.”

“Do not calm ittoomuch. I rather like your beastly nature on occasion.”

“I shall remember that,” he said and gave my neck a playful nip.

If this were a taste of what having this man in my bed forever would be like, I would be quite content to never leave our shared bedchamber ever again. Alas, life would pull us apart far too soon, but that was a worry for the dawn.

The bells rang out just as the sun set. Beirach and I were dressed in our finery.

“I feel like a gusseted goose,” he complained as we left our room, my hand on his arm, my hair perfectly braided and gathered into a large bun at the back with dozens of shorter braids tangling from the knot. I’d teased him about the complex hairdo when I’d seen it in a hand mirror.

“You should have been a lady’s maid,” I’d said as I twisted the ruby-encrusted mirror this way and that.

“My wife long admired the plaits of the forest elves and would often ask me to recreate them,” he had confided. I’d lowered the mirror to kiss him on the pale scar on his now cleanly shaved chin. He had cinched me close with one arm, inhaled the skin of my throat, and then let dropped a few pecks to the pulse under my ear. “You shall set the nobility of this vills on their fat, spoiled asses.”

“You have been spending far too much time with Tezen,” I’d joked and got a chuckle of agreement. Now we were moving down the hall to her room only to find her sitting in the hall onthe lip of a vase filled with freshly cut water tulips. She saw us, frowned, and then blew out a wet greeting with her tongue.

“You two look like a couple of court dandies,” she said and plucked at the lacy edges of her lovely purple dress. “And I look like a two copper trollop. Look at this!” She flew into the air, right at us, and hovered a hand space from Beirach’s nose. “Look at my titties! They’re about to tumble out!”

She gave the stiff bodice in the front of her gown a rough tug. “I loathe gowns and stays and fricking petticoats!”

“Do you feel like a gusseted goose?” Beirach asked as the soft sounds of music floated up from the ground floor of the keep to us.

“Yes!” she exclaimed and gave the beaded bodice, which was quite skillfully covered with small white beads no bigger than the head of a pin, a strong jerk. “I have no clue what a gusset is but if it means choking my titties then yes, I feel like that.”

“Actually, I think a gusset is merely a panel of material that—” I began.

“That chokes a goose,” Beirach finished, then gave me a saucy wink.

“Yes, that chokes a goose.” I sighed, letting the two of them complain about their finery all the way down the grand stairs to the first floor. The music grew louder as we neared the ballroom, the sound of voices and laughter mixed with the drums, lutes, and flutes. I did my best to not dwell on the golden flute that had been offered to a yeti for safe passage. Perhaps, someday at a diplomatic meal in Calaer, I would sight a yeti representative playing a flute. Mayhap they would be willing to part with it if I offered them something of great value.

Two guards stood on either side of the ballroom doors, their gold armor polished to shine like the sun itself. They clapped a fist to their chests as we slowly entered the main hall.My eyes flared at the sheer number of people here. A hundred at least, all in their finest dressed and velvet suits, short hair festooned with jewels, feathers, and ribbons that trailed behind the wearer like a peacock’s tail. The musicians were situated by the hearth, four elves in gay purple-and-pink patterned suits with small bells on their high collars. Minstrels then, and a very good band of them, judging from the songs we had heard on our way here.

I spied the table at the front where Umeris and Aelir were seated. There were a dozen seats, six on each side of the grand advisor and his grandson, most empty save for a couple that the mayor of the vills and his lady wife filled. The boy shot to his feet, wearing a grin when he saw us in the doorway. Umeris stalled him with a hand on his arm. Aelir frowned, then dropped heavily to his seat, his gold crown sitting at an angle on his golden head. V’alor stood off to the side, his sight touching on us momentarily before sweeping the crowded hall. Always vigilant.

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