Page 11 of The Ivory King

“Thank you, but the Stillcloud fletcher saw to my arrows before we left. What I would wish for you to do for me is to locate V’alor Silverfrond, my guard captain, and inform him that I wish to speak to him on a private matter before we leave for the archery range.”

“Of course, my lord. Your armor is ready. It is most supple and soft. My hands are much the same if you find you have sore muscles.”

I rolled my eyes. I was sore, in spots, but nowhere that this randy elf was ever going to massage.

“No, thank you. Go find V’alor, please, then return to aid me in dressing for the archery event.”

I heard his melancholy sigh before the snick of the chamber door closing.

Rising from the tub, filled with fury and agony in my heart, I stomped out from behind the screen to dry off anddress. Looking at my armor neatly laid out on the covers that V’alor and I had twisted into knots, I had a fleeting thought to take the soiled coverlets and pitch them over the side of the balcony. Of course I did no such thing. I instead found the red undergarments stitched for wear beneath leather armor. That much I could do alone. While I waited, I paced. A small elven woman came to clean the tub and bathing area behind the screen, bowing deeply every time she laid eyes on me.

Finally, Joralf returned looking like a whipped hound. “My lord Aelir, I tracked him to the lady’s salon. When asked to speak to him, I was scolded. Then when I told them that I was here directly on the orders of Lord Aelir of Renedith I was given leave to wait but I did not wish to make you tardy for the opening ceremony for the archery competition for it is known far and wide that your skills with a bow are—”

“Joralf, make your point!” I barked. His face went white. The woman hauling buckets of dirty water to the door startled so violently that water flew from the buckets in her hands. A small flurry of activity took place while the puddle was mopped up with the wet linens I had dried with. Once the shaken woman was on her way, Joralf stood before me with his pretty eyes on his slippers. I took a breath. Then another. It was not the staff’s fault that my love was planning to leave me this very morn. I did not yell at those who worked under me. That was not at all my way. “I apologize for raising my voice before. Did you leave a note for V’alor, perhaps?”

“Yes! I did. I have good penmanship, my lord. I directed him to see you at his soonest possibility. Then I ran back to assist you into your armor.”

“Very good. Thank you. You’re quite conscientious.” He beamed. “Now, let us get this armor on, shall we?”

With his assistance, he was quite adept at his job, I was fully armored in dark brown leather with our gold swan emblem onthe cuirass. Bracers, grieves, knee and elbow cops, then boots, and I was ready. He attached a half cape of dark red with fine silver needle working along the edges. I pulled my hair into a thick tail. Joralf asked if he could decorate my hair, and so, after a brief nod, his adept hands began working small plaits into the tail. Red beads were worked into the braids as were some pristine white swan feathers.

“Where did you procure those feathers?” I asked as he worked behind me.

“I had a messenger boy pluck them off the ground by my lady’s private pond. There are two swans that live there.”

“Very clever.”

“Thank you. I would do anything for my lord Aelir.”

Yes, I was quite aware of that but wasn’t the Mossbell family the ones he should be showering with such adoration? “Your devotion to duty is noted.”

We gathered my bow and front quiver, and off we went. Joralf hustled to stay with me as I rushed through the keep to step outside. Several horses waited for their noble owners to arrive. I found Atriel third in line, saddled, with her dapple coat gleaming in the midday sun. I ran a hand over her neck, speaking softly as I caressed her long nose. Her mane and tail were tightly braided as was the norm for competitions such as this. Joralf coughed to get my attention and then handed me a small carrot.

“From the kitchens for your beautiful steed,” he whispered as he handed the slightly soft carrot over. Atriel lifted the vegetable from my hand with ladylike manners. “Surely she is the most attractive horse taking part in the games today. Would you wish me to serve as your armiger today?”

I gave the man a long look. Usually, I would have V’alor at my side to aid me and also keep his eye on his lord, but since he was off plotting to leave my employ and knowing that V’alor hadnot liked the way the valet had been so flirtatious, I smiled at the handsome young man. Pasil and two other Stillcloud guards sat upon their horses, eyeing Joralf warily.

“That would be most helpful.”

Joralf grinned widely. I threw a leg over my horse and rode off as Joralf jogged along in my dusty wake, holding my bow and quiver as if it were the king’s crown. My guards rode behind Joralf, silently. I could only imagine what they were thinking about this slim valet making eyes at me while their guard captain was nowhere to be seen.

Joralf kept up admirably. Since I had no plate armor for him to carry, he would have to fulfill the duties of shield bearer with my archery gear, which was much lighter to carry.

We rode along a smooth dirt roadway with well-tended flowerbeds overflowing with bright yellow pear-shaped flowers called pouth that healers used in tonics for womanly discomforts and grew only in boggy lands. Fat honeybees buzzed about the sweet-smelling flowers as did several large green butterflies with red dots. The grounds were lush with grass as green as the pines that grow in the Verboten woodlands.

Noble elves trotted along the roadway atop steeds of fine breeding. The men adorned in rich, dark colors sewn in the material that humans called velvet. Atop their heads were small caps with wild feathers, which was all the rage at the king’s court this season. Next season, the courtiers might be seen with purple waterfowl atop their heads if our king woke one morn and wished to plunk a plum-colored duck atop his pate. It was all a bit nonsensical to me as it seemed that our lands had more pressing matters for those in power to attend to. Still, here I was pretending to admire caps with bejeweled feathers.

The women wore flowing robes in pastel tones, most with lacy shawls worn over their heads to shield their milky whitecomplexions from the sun. Their servants would be at their arranged seats with beeswaxed cloaks to hold over their lord’s and lady’s heads should it drizzle as well as hampers packed with gourmet foods and chilled ice wine.

I nodded at those I passed along the promenade, ensuring that no word would fly back to Renedith about my snubbing anyone of import. Umeris and I had enough contentions we did not need a riled aristocrat added to the list.

The range was on the other side of the hedge maze and floral gardens. Stands were recently built for the event, and they were filled already. Banners of the noble houses snapped in the rough gusts so we would have to make accommodations for the wind when we were shooting. Atriel winded the other horses and tossed her head as I rode up to the queue waiting to be formally announced to the crowds.

The twins were ahead of me, the first in line, obviously, but they raised their hands in greeting. The sun and wind felt good on my face. I scanned the guards, who had ridden off to linger along the entrance. V’alor was not among his men. My chest felt tight.

A hail of trumpets broke into my worried thoughts. Joralf squeaked in joy, then handed me my bow and quiver. I gave him one nod as Atriel pranced under me. All the horses were eager to be given a run. There would be two rounds of this event. Standing archery and shooting on horseback. My mare was an excellent horse for these events and had won me many cups and ribbons over the years. Many argue that a certain breed of horse is best for mounted archery. Like the chestnut sand horses from the Black Sand Isles, but I have found it more disposition than breed. Atriel was my most trusted partner. Well, after Kenton and V’alor, but I was too hurt to consider V’alor anything other than a rogue right now. My horse knew what was expected of her and delivered with just a light touch of knee-to-side. Noreins. They were not permitted nor did any elven rider require them when shooting. No race was as adept at shooting from horseback as the elves. I say that without prejudice for it is fact. Humans are too bulky, dwarves too short, and yeti do not ride horses. They prefer to lumber along on foot or in massive carts pulled by hairy beasts with long white coats and large curved horns known as cuth in the yeti tongue.

Perhaps the Sandrayan people are our matches, but I had never seen one of the dark-skinned elves from the Black Sand Isles shoot. They did breed magnificent steeds for archery, though, strong yet intelligent horses, so it would stand to reason that—

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