Page 35 of The Ivory King

“The grand cloisterer bid you use this robe until we can find clothes fitting a lord of the vills and his guardians,” an older woman with dark blue eyes said.

“That will be fine, thank you, sister,” I replied and went to a corner to read over the first of the four notes from Umeris.The formal funeral services had commenced just today, as was customary, as the body must be prayed over by the clerics for seven passes of the sun before being placed into state for the whole of Melowynn to view. The elder council had been arguing nonstop, the second missive stated with none brought forth so far that would sit the throne better than me, a note that I crumpled into a ball and threw into the low fire in the smoky hearth.

The last two notes were short and direct. Get the lady bound to me with haste and return with all speed. And a quick explanation that ground death weave mushroom from Sandraya was found in the king’s favored biscuits. When the baker was approached, he dashed to the seawall, shouted for equality for all elves, and then threw himself to his death on the jagged rocks below.

I exhaled as I rubbed my temple. With the poison being Sandrayan, it would stir up a white hornet’s nest when the public found out. Even though the Sandrayan people were distant cousins of ours, much like the wood elves, the worshippers of Ihdos disliked and distrusted them. They worshipped false gods. They had dark brown or green skin, and they possessed magicks. The list of reasons that elf hated elf was long and beyond foolish. We all bled red when cut. If the crown came to rest on my head, this was an issue that I would have to navigate with delicate diplomacy. May Ihdos bless me with skilled and patient advisors.

I glanced up when Pasil cleared his throat. “I am sorry, my lord, for pulling you from your reading, but your bath awaits.”

My gaze touched on the tub filled with steaming water. “I was lost in the missives from my grandfather,” I hurried to explain the fugue I’d slipped into. All the sisters were gone. How long I’d stood in the corner staring at my grandfather’s slanted,bold hand I had no clue. “I’ll be glad to soak in some hot water. Please, go find your own bath, Pasil.”

He nodded, but I knew he would stand outside my door until he deemed it safe to leave my side. Whenever that would be. We’d not seen signs of anyone following us during our mad sprint from Lake Tolso. As I peeled myself out of my filthy clothes, I tried to reach out to V’alor for the poets who claim that two hearts that beat as one could, on occasion, touch the other over great distances. Try as I might, I could not find V’alor, and so with a sigh, I sat down in the tub, wincing at the hot water as it hit my balls, then slipped down into the scented water until it rested on my chin. My hair was littered with forest debris and thick with dried mud, blood, and silent tears. My feet were caked with dirt and cuts and would require scrubbing with a stiff brush.

The bath felt divine. The soap was lavender, the bar a soft purple color. Rubbing it over my arm, a cloud of scent filled the room, easing my aching muscles. Pity the bath did not soften the tense knot of worry in my mind. I needed to send a raven to my grandfather as well as to the fisherfolk at Lake Tolso. Umeris would be thrilled to know that I had arrived and would be presented to Lady Frostleaf this eve. The raven for the fisherfolk was to enquire after their well-being as well as ask about my guards. Sliding down under the water, I pulled my hair in to be washed and then surfaced and began the tedious work of washing and rinsing the mass of blond hair that V’alor so enjoyed stroking. My soul ached for him.

Yes, ravens first, then the meeting with my betrothed where I would present myself and request her hand in marriage. It all felt so rushed, so cold, so not what a lifetime union should feel like. My mood was melancholy when I finally rose from the cold bath and dressed in the robes of the sisters. Using the hairbrush, I tugged the knots out of my hair and exited my room. Pasilstood at the door, his face and hair clean, so either he had snuck off to wash, which I doubted, or he had had water brought to him. His armor had also been sponged off to remove the signs of a bloody struggle. He looked flush with vibrancy, a sure sign that he had been fed well. The past few days had been lean in terms of sustenance with our meals consisting of foraged berries and tree nuts that Beiro had scrounged. Game was plentiful, but we dared not light a fire so we subsisted as best we could.

“My lord, the grand cloisterer bids you to come to her in the solarium at your earliest convenience,” he informed me.

“Any word of V’alor and Tezen?” I foolishly asked. If my love had arrived, he would have come directly to me to ensure my well-being.

“None yet, but I am sure they shall arrive shortly,” he answered, his tone upbeat. He, too, would not give up on our brave companions.

“Yes, of course they will. I need to travel to the rookery, then we shall meet with the grand cloisterer and Lady Frostleaf in the solarium. I need to reply to Umeris with haste.”

He bobbed his head. We set off to find the aviary, which was tucked into the mountain overlooking the purple steppes. It was a small building with only several black ravens resting on roosts. The floors were immaculate and the birds were glossy with good health.

“It is at times like this that I wish Kenton were with us,” I stated as I looked over the ravens, who were eyeing us with shiny black eyes.

“I can help,” Beiro announced, coming up behind us on cat feet. Pasil spun to face our guide with a frown deep as the valley below us. The two of them glowered at each other before Beiro slipped around us, his gaze leaving Pasil to touch on the ravens. A mere moment passed before one of the birds, a large one, flewfrom its roost to Beiro’s shoulder. The two of them had a silent conversation as Pasil studied the slim redhead intently.

“This one is named Tisk and is willing to deliver your message,” Beiro said, then turned to face us. “He asks where he needs to fly to.”

“The capital.” I handed the small missive over to Beiro, who slid the paper into a small wooden tube attached to the raven’s leg. The raven took to wing the moment the lid on the tube was closed, gliding smoothly out one of a dozen wide windows to disappear from view.

“He shall deliver it with haste,” Beiro informed us. He, too, looked cleaner than the last time I had seen him.

“Thank you. That is a skill that I wish the city elves had held onto,” I confessed. Speaking with beasts would be incredibly helpful.

Beiro blinked softly but said nothing. He was a hard person to read.

“The grand cloisterer and the Lady Frostleaf await us,” Pasil reminded me, shaking me from my wandering thoughts. I was so tired and so very scared. People wanted me dead. I knew not why they longed to see me slain. It was truly terrifying.

“Yes, let us go meet them,” I softly replied, wishing I had clothes more fitting of my station to meet the woman who had written so faithfully over the seasons.

We left the rookery and the caws of the ravens behind. Beiro fell in at my side, his green gaze flicking from the sisters we passed to Pasil and back to the women.

A stout woman of indeterminate age met us at the door of the shrine, leading us around the holy tree to a set of small side doors. She opened them, the hinges silent, and then bowed deeply as we passed, closing the door behind us.

The grand cloisterer sat on a simple stool amid potted plants and small trees with leaves that brushed the domedceiling. My sight flew to a slim woman with long chestnut hair sitting demurely beside Eldacar. Lady Frostleaf was clad in a simple yellow gown with small white pearls on the bodice. She was not a voluptuous woman, but she had curves that were pleasing to the eye.

I knew her face from the tiny oils we had shared with each other, although in the miniature portrait, the brownish scars from the widow’s touch fungus on her cheek and brow were not visible. Lady Raewyn smiled at me, her brown-green eyes soft and welcoming as she rose to her tiny slippers and offered me a slim hand. Behind her lingered a tall woman, human, with blonde hair with streaks of ginger and pulled into a thick plait, light blue eyes, and dressed in a demure black frock. The lady’s maid was strongly built, with wide shoulders and thick arms that strained the plain cotton blouse under her dress. She curtsied in silence.

I walked to Raewyn, took her soft fingers, and placed a kiss on her knuckles.

“My lady, it is a pleasure to finally meet you.” I straightened, still holding her hand, as I addressed her. “I feel as if I know you so well already, for our years have been filled with joyous correspondence.”

“AndIfeel as if we have grown up together, my lord Aelir,” Raewyn replied with a voice that was cultured and merry. “I fondly recall your first letters about badgers and stick bugs and how you hoped I liked picking up toads and stealing honey cakes.”

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