Page 22 of The Ivory King

“By Ihdos,” Umeris spat under his breath. I reached down to help him up. He gave me a weary nod of thanks.

“Welcome! Welcome one and all of our cousins, friends, and allies from every corner of Melowynn to this celebration,” Mirolar announced, his deep voice ringing through the hall, his timbre a rival for the thunder booming outside. “It has been my greatest joy to serve you and your vills for so long. I hope you have continued to see prosperous times for your lands and peoples, and that the elven empire continues to thrive and grow.” We all cheered softly. “I have promised Le’ral that I would not speak for ages, for the food that we are now being served is too delicious to allow to grow chilled. Eat, drink, and dance, good people of Melowynn!”

He raised his goblet high. We all did the same, then chanted the king’s name thrice before emptying our goblets. The wine tingled when it hit my stomach. Foolish man that I was, I knew mixing rich sweets with wine would not be pleasant, but my fondness for honey cakes had, as always, won out over common sense.

A quartet of elven musicians in blue and white tunics and leggings appeared off to the left of the king’s table. They bowed to his majesty before taking their seats. One played a flute, one a lute, and two plucked ornate harps. An old song from the days before our king was even born flowed over the assembly.

Once more we sat. Once more I aided Umeris with his pillows. When he was settled, we began the feast. Servers carved the stringy oxen, the fatty boars, the plump geese, and the jellied lamb roasts. The hall filled with conversation and soft music. The king leaned around Le’ral after plucking two fat, soft butter biscuits to sop up the pink juices from the roast ox.

“So, Aelir, it has reached my ear that you are closing down the Renedith menagerie,” Mirolar said before ripping his biscuit in two. “Pray tell why would this be done? The people of Celear love to visit the royal menageries.”

“Well, Your Majesty,” I said, ignoring the dark look from Umeris. He was not pleased about our decision to free our caged fauna. “The delegates from the wood elves have been petitioning that the beasts be freed for many years.” I glanced down at Kenton and Beirich at the noble table where we had been assigned to sit before the king had asked us to sup with him. Bonnalure, Larium, and Luchas Mossbell caught my eye as they were not far from the druids feasting on fruits and vegetables. A look in the gaze of Larium caught me off-guard, for it seemed to be a sour glare. Umeris nudged me on the side. I snapped back to the discussion with the king. “Forgive me, Your Majesty, I was trying to align my thoughts before speaking too rashly or with too much passion.”

“Pah,” Mirolar said while dragging his biscuit through the broth on his plate. “That is what I enjoy about you, Aelir. You are a young man filled with ambition, dreams, and plans to improve this kingdom. You remind me of myself when I was your age. So many of the nobility are content to sit on their wrinkled asses and let time march on, but that thinking does not bring change or growth.”

“I fully agree, Your Majesty,” Umeris announced as he peeled a wood prune and popped it into his mouth. I nearly choked on my bite of pheasant. “Which is why I alwaysencourage Aelir to plan for the progress of Renedith and the rest of the realm.”

I had to mentally tally how much wine I had ingested. Only one or two sips to the king, I was sure. Since I was not drunk, I surely had to be hearing things. Umeris then rattled on about how his visions for the vills that I would soon inherit were steeped in forward-thinking projects. Shaking my head in amusement, I cut into the pheasant breast on my plate, not at all hungry but not eating would be considered a slight. I glanced at the butter biscuits on the platter before the king, wishing it would be acceptable to pluck one and douse it with honey as my grandfather rambled on endlessly.

The king nodded at Umeris, smiling as one does when talking with an elder elf who tended to prattle. The pink in his cheeks paled suddenly. Mirolar began frothing at the mouth. His eyes rolled back, and he fell face first into his platter of roast oxen. The crown of Melowynn tumbled from his head to the floor with a deafening clatter in the shocked quietude of the royal hall. The silence only lasted for a mere second. Then pandemonium erupted.

“Mirolar!” I heard Le’ral bellow as I stared at the king lying face down in meat and vegetables. I saw little of anything else, for it was then that I was yanked from my chair and spun to face a chest plate of hammered copper as V’alor enveloped me in his arms. I heard Umeris yelp in surprise when I was pushed away from the table as the sounds of royal guards racing to cover the several doors leading into the hall now reached my ears.

“Into the antechamber,” V’alor shouted to someone, Pasil, I imagined, as he shunted me from the table, kicking aside chairs that had fallen backward as those previously seated in them had flown to their boots in fright. “Carry him if needs must!”

Shouts and wails now began to float by as V’alor steered me around the chaos of healers rushing to the king as nobles triedto flee the hall. I’d not seen any attackers, but those at the other tables knew only that the king was down. Could it be archers in the trusses painted white and blue? I tried to glance up, but V’alor was not having it. He palmed my head, knocking my circlet askew, which broke the fine fishing lines that Joralf had worked so long to secure. Ruby-red beads fell to the floor as I was forced through a doorway that I’d not even seen when I’d sat at the king’s table. The room was on the small side, with only a few chaise lounges, and I recognized it as the queen’s lady’s in waiting lounge. Since there was no queen, it was simply a sitting room for nobles who wished to slip away from the main hall for rest or medical reasons.

“Lock that door! Let none enter!” V’alor barked as I was placed, none too gently, upon a chaise next to Umeris. My grandfather was as white as the tiled floors and shaking. I draped an arm over his shoulder, shocked to feel how frail the mighty Umeris Stillcloud had grown over the seasons.

Pasil rushed to the door and was pushed aside by royal guards carrying the frightfully still King of Melowynn. Le’ral was at his side, his face ashen, his hand gripping the slack hand of our monarch while clutching the crown in his other.

“Bring the nobles in here,” one of the royal guards shouted. Pasil gave V’alor a questioning look. V’alor motioned him away from the door. Protocol called for the palace guards to take command. V’alor and Pasil stationed themselves behind our settee, swords at the ready should someone break into the antechamber. None came in that were not sanctioned. The dwarven and pixie courts, the Sandrayan emissaries, and two towering yeti delegates. There was barely space for Kenton and Beirich to wiggle in, but I made room on my left for my friend. Kenton sat on the edge of the chaise, his gaze on the king now spread out on a soft rose-toned chaise.

“Beirich and I could aid him,” he whispered to me just as the royal healers appeared, looking shaken, and began forcing antidotes into the king’s slack jaw. The door to the antechamber was shut and locked, with two royal guards positioned with backs to doors. Each window in the antechamber was closed off, the wooden shutters slammed shut and latched.

I shook my head. The king’s healers would never allow a druidic potion or magicks to be used. Such things were considered primitive remedies, for use by the uneducated or simple folks.

“They would not allow it, but your kindness in wishing to aid him is indeed noble,” I whispered, taking his hand in mine to give it a squeeze. Beirich stood silent vigil behind his husband, a hand on Kenton’s shoulder, as every noble in attendance waited on word from the healers. They toiled long and hard, popping corks on this antidote and that antidote, dribbling one after the other into Mirolar’s mouth until the fluids began to leak out onto the rosy fabric of the settee. He was not swallowing the potions, for he was dead. I was no healer, but even I could see that our ruler had joined Ihdos. The wail of a man heartbroken rose into the stuffy air. Le’ral kneeled beside the king, his howl of agony and loss, making the short hairs on the back of my sweaty neck rise.

As Mirolar’s secretary wept over the king’s still body, Umeris cleared his throat and wobbly rose to address the elves in the room.

“Our king has been murdered. The throne sits empty. It is time to invoke the decree of noble ascension so that our kingdom is not thrown into chaos or taken advantage of by others.” I gaped at my grandfather. How unfeeling a pronouncement! I was about to snap at him when the Mossbell and Dewfall heads agreed loudly. “Those who are not of nobleblood will be taken to their chambers to be interrogated by the king’s guard.”

Yeti, dwarf, Sandrayan, and pixie instantly took umbrage to the slight. Kenton glanced at me, then slowly got to his feet. He and Beirich were led out, much like the others, under a cloud of suspicion.

“Raise the flag of mourning on the king’s tower,” Umeris, who was the oldest of all the elves in attendance, instructed the few guards that remained. “Set up the king’s library as our convening spot. Lady Si’ofra, Lord Ja’nor, and I shall change into mourning robes and convene in the library immediately. Who has the crown of Melowynn?”

We all looked at Le’ral draped over Mirolar, the silver crown gripped in his hand as he wept openly.

“Ah, well,” Umeris whispered as he pushed to his feet with a wince. “Make sure that it is taken to the vault and is put under guard until the process is completed and the next ruler is chosen.” Umeris looked at me. “You are to go to your chambers and await my return.”

The younger ones here, such as the twins and Bonnalure, were sent off as if we were little ones being sent to bed to allow the adults to speak. It rankled, but I was not averse to being in my suite with V’alor to hold me until the sun rose.

Of course, that did not happen, for my love was positioned at my door throughout that dark, wild night, for he would not allow another to guard me against the unknown killer in Castle Avolire.

Sleep, when it finally came, was not pleasant nor restful.

Morning came in with a dull sun stuck behind torpid, thick clouds that refused to leave the city. Lying on my side, eyes sticky from lack of sleep, I watched tiny droplets of rain hitting the patio doors. It seemed as if Ihdos himself mourned the loss of our king.

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