Page 51 of The Ivory King

My sight darted to V’alor. He raised an eyebrow. “There are few secrets in Castle Avolire,” I replied with a small chuckle that she returned. I glanced back at V’alor. “Lady Bonnalure and I are fine to speak alone. Would you go see that Atriel is readied properly for our outing today?”

V’alor inclined his head to Bonnalure and slipped out after giving my shoulder a soft squeeze. I walked out to join her on the balcony as she opened her basket with a delicate flourish of tiny hands.

“So the rumors of vows betwixt you and your guard captain, a human handmaid, and the Lady Frostleaf are true?”

I leaned my ass on the cool stone railing, the calls of the gulls at my back as was the ocean itself.

“They are,” I answered. Bonnalure was always the thoughtful, intelligent Mossbell child, thankfully the eldest, so she could oversee the vills with her husband with insight. “I have deep feelings for Raewyn as she has been my friend for years, much like you,” I mentioned and thumbed hair from my face. The sea breeze was always hearty on this side of the castle.

“And I feel much the same for you. A warmth deep in my breast akin to what I feel for my brothers,” she said as she dug about in the hamper on her thighs. “Imagine my surprise when my lady-in-waiting whisperedthatinto my ear. The scandal I thought, but then realized that no scandal would befall you,for you are the golden heir of Renedith, the son of legends, the grandsire of the hero of the Bhaston Tundra wars.” Her sight lifted from her basket to pin me to the marble banister. “Never before has an elven noble petitioned the exalted cloisterer for a marriage to three others, yet Aelir Stillcloud had the temerity to do so.”

I folded my arms over my chest, her tone sharp, her gaze lingering on her basket of trinkets.

“I am not sure that temerity is in play at all. It is simply a case of several people deciding to join together for the good of the realm,” I explained calmly, understanding that many in Melowynn would find a marriage between four people unsettling or even blasphemous. “Surely you can see that the heart of an elf can love more than one person at a time.”

Her sight darted to me as she pulled out a silver hairbrush with fine filigree on the back and handle.

“Yes, of course. I can understand that you, Aelir, are given permission to wed your lady, your beloved guard, and some dirty human, but when I petitioned the exalted cloisterer to end my engagement to Ja’nor, my request was denied, for I am not a Stillcloud. I am only a crippled Mossbell woman to be auctioned off to a man who would rather lie with his underage cousins than with me.” She tossed the brush to me, her usually lovely face now a tight mask of hatred. I grabbed the brush as it sailed over my head. Bonnalure wheeled at me at speed, one hand flying out in front of her. Her palm hit my chest. The hairbrush fell to the balcony as I went tumbling over the stone railing, a shout of surprise escaping. I twisted in the air, managing to get a hold of the rounded stone pillars between the base and the top rail of the balustrade.

Below me, the Silvura Sea splashed serenely on smooth, slick rocks.

“Nothing ever goes wrong for you, does it?” she shouted over the side of the rail as she began beating on my fingers with the hairbrush. “You are sickening in your perfection!” She pounded on my fingers as I scrabbled to try to get my bare toes into the crevices of the smooth stone sides of the tower. My brain was awash in panic as I shouted out for help, but only heard the gulls replying. “You’ve cost me thousands in gold and not one of the inept assassins could strike you down! You. Make. Me. Ill.” Each word was followed by a crack from the brush on my swollen knuckles.

So it was the meek, intelligent, chairbound woman and not the shitwit twins. It would sit on my mind for eternity that she had so cleverly fooled me and everyone else when I plummeted to my death. That would teach me to never discount a woman simply because she was a woman. Lesson learned. Pity I would take it to my grave within another moment.

I kicked at the tower wall as the fingers on my left hand slipped free. Bonnalure continued striking at my hold, cursing me and my family, when suddenly the hits ceased and she screamed like a dark monster exposed to the light of Ihdos.

“Help!” I shouted, dangling over the calm waves, my eyes watering, my knuckles now bloody, as yells bounced down to me. “Help!” I bellowed, my sight on the railing, my heart thundering so loudly now I could barely hear the tide or the gulls. “Help!” I roared a third time. A large hand appeared between the stone pillars. It clasped my wrist, the grip brutally strong, as more voices began to float down to me.

V’alor wiggled his shoulders between the pillars, his face white with alarm. “I have you!” he shouted down at me. Tears of relief coursed down my cheeks as he slapped his hand into my free one and began hoisting me upward. His forearms were thick, powerful, and straining under my dead weight as he tugged me up to the base where more hands latched onto myshoulders to pull me to the rail. I bent over it, lungs working like bellows, and then was helped over the side by Pasil and Fylson. My knees buckled when my bare toes touched the balcony. V’alor was there to catch me, his arms cinching me tightly to his chest, my cheek coming to rest on his copper chest plate.

“By Ihdos, my love, I thought you were surely gone,” V’alor whispered as he hugged me to him. I clung to him as my breathing began to calm.

“I am not so easily flung aside,” I commented weakly, pulling back to gaze up at him. “I cling like a bog burdock Kenton always said when I was young.”

“Kenton speaks the truth.” V’alor reached up to caress my cheek, wiping the tears of fear from my skin with his thumb. Bonnalure was shrieking inside my chambers, vile horrid things falling from her mouth as the royal guards and Tezen were securing her to her chair with ropes. My pixie guard was ensuring that her bonds were tight enough by the sounds.

“She tried to push me to my death,” I shakily announced. The royal guards nodded, lowered their heads, and placed a fist to their chests. Confusion filled my head. “She also confessed to hiring the assassins who tried to kill me.”

“Her treachery was viewed and overheard by the Lady Mossbell next door who was seated on her balcony as well,” a tall, older man in blue and white armor informed me. “It was she who sounded the alarm.” I nodded to the Grand Lady Mossbell, who wept silently into a frilly kerchief as her daughter was wheeled out of my suite screaming incoherently at any and all within view. “We shall lock her in her room until you decide what her fate shall be, Your Majesty.”

I blinked dully at the assembled guards who, as one, went to one knee. Umeris entered then, waxy with worry, his gait wobbly, his sigh of relief a hearty one when he spied me standing with my guards and Fylson. Merrilyn and Raewynexploded into my suite wearing dressing gowns with brown creams on their faces, both dashing to me to ensure I was well. Umeris steadied himself with a pinkish-white walking stick, obviously borrowed from an elderly woman with dreadful taste in walking sticks.

“The elders have come to a decision,” my grandfather proudly informed me as the screams of a woman lost in a mind thick with envy and a touch of madness slowly faded away. Umeris bowed as low as he dared, everyone else standing near me doing the same. “Your coronation shall take place on the morrow, King Aelir Stillcloud, Ninth Sovereign of the Sublime Court of Elves, Emperor and Commander of the Elven army and navy, Blooded kin of the Queen of the Seventh Trient, Magnate of the wood, sea, air, and all the beasts within, Unifier of the Realm, Defender of the Moon Sisters, Keeper of the Holy Scepter of Ihdos, and Seeker of Serenity for the whole of Melowynn and her people.”

My heart fell to my cold, damp, bare feet when the exalted cloisterer appeared, his long hair in ribbon curlers, fresh from his bath, the silver crown of Melowynn resting on a dark blue pillow in his hands.

Everyone in the room, even those I would wed this evening, went to one knee as the crown was carried to me by a man with wrinkle cream hiding in the deep crevices of his face.

“Normally, Your Majesty, this crowning would take place immediately after the death of the king and be placed upon the head of the heir apparent. Since this was an unusual circumstance, the elder council begs for your forgiveness for taking so long to come to a decision.”

The ancient leader of the church lowered his head as he, too, went to one knee before me. I glanced around, my throat suddenly dry as the black sands of the Sandrayan Isles, my head filled with a thousand ideas and thoughts, words andexclamations, but all I could do was stare at the ribbons in the exalted cloisterer’s hair.

“King Aelir,” Fylson called softly, shaking me from my stupor.

“Oh, yes, I am…I was not fully expecting this. I am honored that the council has chosen me to rule these lands. I shall do my best to carry on the traditions we all hold dear while placing elven kind on the path of progress for those who reside within our shores.”

Umeris appeared pleased enough. The exalted cloisterer rose with the help of some royal guards and bid me to kneel before him. I glanced at V’alor. He met my gaze, smiled, and watched as I went to my knees. The crown was cold, heavy, and carried with it a weight that I feared I may falter under.

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