Page 30 of The Ivory King

So there were people out there who wished me dead for being thrust into a situation I did not wish to be in. Why? To what end? And perhaps the most important question, among a thousand now darting about inside my beleaguered skull, was who.Whowould wish to see me dead?

THE NEXT MORNING I WOKE TO SUNSHINE. Bright, crisp, and shining on the mottled forest floor. Damp, stiff, and yet oddly excited to see the sun, I sat up, looked around our camp, and found that V’alor was the lone sentry watching over us. Everyone else was still sleeping off the exhaustion of a day in the saddle after nearly being killed.

We’d ridden hard yesterday, putting as much distance as we could betwixt ourselves and any more possible assassins. We’d ridden after dark at the behest of V’alor, weaving amongst trees and prickly bushes. Beiro finally called a halt after the moons were overhead, citing that the horses were being put into too much danger after his surefooted gray gelding stepped wrong and had nearly gone over a washout by a raging stream. There was water everywhere. Each little brook was now a rushing virago as the storm moved over the Witherhorn range, dumping more rain on the steep snowy slopes. Snow melt joined with rain created even more flooding. Everyone from the dwarves in Winterbrecht, their capital city resting on the northern side of the mountains, to the elves in Celear were going to be in dire straits come winter. I could only imagine how much snow melt was pouring into the grand dwarven city at the moment. Even the mightiest of stone doors had cracks…

So much loss of property, crops, and yes, even lives would ride hard on the king’s weary shoulders.

The king. I rubbed at my eyes. The short sleep we’d managed to catch not nearly enough to remove the strain of knowing that it might well be me carrying the weight of this natural disaster. Instead of dwelling on the future, I lay there and watched a heron soaring overhead with long wings and graceful legs. The bird was probably looking for a calm eddy to fish in. I wished him luck. We’d abandoned traveling along the riotous waterway.

Following the river was pointless as the Vilhall was in no hurry to recede. So, we entered the Glotte in the gray-speckled robes of the assassins we’d left lying for the vultures to snack upon. Beiro had suggested we don their robes to better blend in and then ride with all speed to Lake Tolso. There we could find some fisherfolk he knew who would be happy to offer us a night’s lodging and some fish stew in one of their stone huts before we continued onward. If we were amongst people, the assassins might not be so bold. And we could enquire about them. As it stood now, none of us were familiar with the cartel that was after us. We had all agreed on this plan and so today we were bound for the cold blue lake at the base of the Witherhorn. A bed, even in a stone hut, sounded glorious, as did stew of any kind. Pithy peaches had become tiresome quickly. As had this chasm between V’alor and me. I had to try something—anything—to bring him closer to me again. I refused to lose him. I would do what needed to be done by hook or by crook as the elder elves said.

And so I rose, letting my blanket fall to my feet, and padded over on wet socks to sit beside V’alor. He looked like he had ridden hard and wild for days. Which he had. He’d had little sleep. He wore his worry like the assassin’s cloak around his broad shoulders.

“My lord,” he gently said. I sat before him on the damp forest floor, my back to him as he sat upon a rounded stone.“You should get what rest you can. We will have an arduous ride if we hope to reach Lake Tolso before nightfall.”

“I would have you plait my hair,” I said, sitting on my heels before him, my eyes on the dewy clover and tiny ferns growing at the base of several dark red oaks.

“My lord, nobility does not—”

“I am aware of what nobles do. I am also aware that if not for this ridiculously long hair that assassin would not have been able to wrest me from my mount with such ease.”

He sat in silence behind me as a woodlark began his morning song.

“That is why I always found the military style much to my liking,” he finally replied, his words stiff and awkward. I hated this distance between us. We had once been so close, lovers that spent hours abed discussing the most intimate of things. Now we could barely hold a civil conversation.

“Having such hair is vainglorious and foolish if one ventures from their chaise lounge for longer than a moment,” I said and got a snort of amusement. That sound made me feel lighter much as seeing the sun had. “I would cut it off if I did not think that Umeris would pass over to Ihdos the moment he laid eyes on my shorn head.”

“The grand advisor would surely have words for you,” he commented. A moment passed, then another. A small, blue-breasted bird flitted down to drink out of a puddle to our left. It quenched its thirst and darted back into the trees. “I am not sure that I should do something as intimate as braiding your hair, my lord.”

I sighed in exasperation. “We are not wood elves. There is no greater meaning in you braiding my hair other than as a means to hide my nobility. Either plait it or use your sword and hack it off.”

There I kneeled, waiting, as V’alor sat like a potato on a platter. Then, as if my hair might contain scorpions, he lifted the golden mass. My eyes drifted closed, feeling the brush of the back of his fingers on the nape of my neck.

“I will braid it, but it will not be as well done as Kenton’s,” he said in a smoky voice that sent shivers down my spine. I knew that gruff tone well. I’d heard it every night as he made love to me. My body reacted instantly, my cock stiffening in my damp trousers.

“Looks are not important,” I replied as he laid the long tresses out in thirds, one shank over each shoulder and then one between my shoulder blades. “It is for functionality.”

“Mm, yes, you are not made for this kind of life. You are made for fine clothes, plush beds, and a soft brush to run through your hair.”

I felt a blush warm my chilly cheeks. “You describe a concubine and not an heir of the vills.” I turned my head to look back and up at him. “Do you really see me as so soft?”

“No, I do not see you as soft, Aelir. I know you are hard and firm. What I describe is how I envision you when I close my eyes. I see you in your bed as I come to you, soft and pliable, eager, with this magnificent hair spread out under you. That is how I wish you could always be. Safe, sated, and without a care.”

I felt my heart stumble over itself. “V’alor…”

He shook off the moment of sentimentality. “But life has decreed this course for you and so we shall follow it. I will see you and Lady Raewyn delivered back to Umeris safely.”

“And then what?” I asked, sliding around on my knees as he held two long handfuls of my hair. “You speak as if once we are back at court, our lives are irrevocably changed, but they need not be.”

“Aelir, you cannot have a lover whilst married to a devout woman such as Lady Raewyn.” I opened my mouth to reply.“No, I know what you will say. Yes, many nobles have lovers on the side, for many nobles marry for status and not love. But you are not like most nobles. You are too truehearted to be disloyal to your lady wife. Perhaps, if she were a noble familiar with court life, then perchance she might understand. Hells, she would probably take a lover herself, but Lady Raewyn has lived her life amongst the sisters. She is pious and pure. You cannot sully such a fine lady by allowing a lowborn to climb into your bed right after she leaves it.”

“You are not lowborn and I do not love her,” I said as he allowed my hair to glide over his fingers.

“You may in time. But even if you do not come to care for her as you do me, you will be thankful that you treated her with respect.” I shook my head. He cupped my cheek. “You cannot come to me like this again, Aelir.”

“Come to you how? With a simple request?”

“No, with that look in your eye and a plea on your lips. I am not a golem. I cannot resist you and well you know it.” He bent down to press his lips to my brow and then rose from his rock. “Perhaps you should simply pull your hair back into a tail. I am off to ready the horses.”

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