Page 32 of The Ivory King

I thanked our hosts, closed the door, and felt a wash of something that was close to relief move over me. The window was open. I moved toward it to stare out at the water and the small boats atop the freshwater lake. The sun shone down on the tiny waves lapping against slick rocks. The sounds of children, women and men, and dogs filled the air.

Tezen flitted up to sit on the chunky wooden windowsill, her hair flattened by the small helm now under her arm. We would need to get V’alor another.

“Do you think us safe here, my lord?”

I glanced down at her. I’d come to know the princess quite well over the past ten seasons. Much like Pasil, I thought of them more as kin than underlings.

“I am not sure I will ever feel safe again,” I confessed and got a sad sigh from my tiny friend and guardian.

V’alor slept through the evening meal.

Tezen, Pasil, and Beiro took shifts patrolling the cozy hut as I lay abed, wishing my mind would slow enough for sleep to find me. Every noise made me startle but eventually I drifted off. It was fractured sleep filled with shadowed faces, sharp blades, and silent footfalls.

Coming awake with a shout, I shook off the quilt with a grunt, sat up as sweat beaded my brow, and stared at the nub of a candle on the bedstand. Licking my fingers, I pinched the wick to throw the room into muted darkness. Soft snores could be heard through the walls as well as the sounds of pots. Easing off the straw-filled mattress, I made my way to the door, cracked it open, and saw Beiro’s grandmother fileting a large whitehead. She glanced up and smiled. Beiro and Thavus were on the floor in front of the hearth, sound asleep on thick mats, their red and bald heads the only sight of them. Tezen could be heard humming a pixie song as she stood guard at the front door, her little form unseen as she rested on the slab of wood barring the door.

“My lord,” Tezen and Hythra both said in unison.

“My ladies,” I softly answered with a short, courtly bow that made them both giggle. I moved to stand beside Hythra at a thick table covered with fish, rising bread dough in a towel-covered bowl, and a dish of something thick and white. “What is it you’re preparing?”

“A dish that my husband has every morning. Whitehead and sour cream on fresh pine seed bread,” she replied as she sliced paper-thin strips of fish from the whitehead’s side. “Nothing posh but filling.”

“I wager all the fish he eats puts some vanadium into his manly sword,” Tezen added from across the room. My face grew hot. Lady Hythra giggled like a maiden.

“Oh aye, that it does. Dwarves are known for their endurance beneath the sheets, so when one adds the potency of red fish meat to their diets, they’re unstoppable,” Hythra confided as a log snapped in the hearth. Tezen’s high-pitched laugh filled the dimly lit room.

“May I help in any way?” I asked although I knew next to nothing about cooking. Widow Poppy would have washed my mouth out with lye soap if I had even asked to help prepare anything in her kitchen. I missed my home so deeply that it was like a rotted tooth.

“No, my lord, you are above such menial things,” Hythra whispered as she filleted slice after red slice. I watched for a few moments as her deft fingers moved with years of practiced ease.

“My lady, may I ask—”

“How an elf of my bearing came to be wed to a dwarven fisherman?” Her green eyes, so much like Beiro’s, lifted from her task. “That is a long story best told around a fire with a few casks of ale. Suffice it to say that I came here after leaving a violent and lecherous spouse who ended up unceremoniously dead after a rather unfortunate hunting accident involving a rampaging bear.”

“Oh, that is…” I wasn’t sure if it was a sad telling or a glad one. If the man was a fiend and lech, then his death was perhaps a good thing. Surely there were enough foul souls roaming about Melowynn that one less would be a blessing.

“Yes, that it was.” She laid her knife aside, wiped her hands on the front of her apron, and stared at me as if trying to pluck the very thoughts from my mind. “You wear the look of a heart carrying a heavy burden. I know that look well. If you would like some herbal tea and perhaps a day-old tart, I would be more than willing to listen. Thavus tells me that my pointed ears capture his words well.”

That made me snicker. “That would be most pleasing, but you must allow me to aid you in preparing our meal in exchange.”

She pondered that for a long moment before nodding once. Within moments, I was being instructed as to how to knead the coarse dough. My arms were coated with finely ground wheat flour and my thoughts seemed to flow from my mouth as I worked the dough into a mass over and over.

“I am on my way to fetch my future bride,” I confided on a secretive breath, feeling oddly about speaking about important governmental issues with a fisherman’s wife. Doing such a thing surely went against all the rules of my upbringing.

“How wonderful!” Hythra beamed as her evergreen gaze left her fish for a moment. I sighed. “Oh, well, perhaps not so joyous news then?”

“No, it is not. There is only one who I wish to spend my life with.”

“Ah, that is a dire problem.” She slid the skeleton of one fish aside and pulled another large fish in front of her. “If I may be bold, my lord, but such is the heavy price one pays to be noble born. Marriages are arranged to serve the crown and the vills and not the heart of the people involved.”

“Yes, and I know that to be such, but I cannot…” I punched the dough soundly, sending a cloud of flour into the air. Tezen, sitting on the door, was uncharacteristically quiet. I was sure her little ears were not missing a word, though. “He will notbrook any discussion of our continued relationship. It is virtuous of him to do so.” I hit the dough again. “He is all things worthy and good. Kind, generous, handsome, chivalrous, brave, and stalwart.” I began to tighten my hands into the ball of dough as I spoke. “His righteousness is just. I should not wish to besmirch the affections of the fine lady that I will wed and yet I cannot simply walk away from him, for he is my life.”

Her fishy hands settled on my forearm. I snapped out of the dough throttling taking place, loosened my grip, and dropped the ball back to the floured table. I glanced over to find her caring eyes on me.

“The path that nobility must walk is not always the gilded road that the common folk think it to be,” she confided. “I married for prestige and found no joy in the man that forced himself upon me night after night. He was a cruel man, happiest when using his fists on those weaker than he. The staff lived in terror just as I did. His death was a joyous thing, even though it should not have been.”

“I am sorry for the misery you have faced,” I said. She gently squeezed my arm.

“Thank you, but much of that was my doing for buckling to my parents’ whims. I do not wish to ever see another person promised to another just to enlarge a vills or coffers. Please, my lord Aelir, do not bend to the dictates of others. If your heart beats only for your guard captain—”

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