Page 54 of The Ivory King

“We shall send a runner to the kitchens to inform—” a meek elven lass with short red curls began.

“No, no, that is fine. This is a lovely setting. I was just yearning for honey cakes.” I assured them when a knot the size of my fist was discovered by my nervous hairdresser.

“Apologies, Your Majesty,” she meekly whispered.

“Tell Widow Poppy to ensure that the king has honey cakes for his breakfast from this day forward,” Umeris snapped and four of the staffers quaked. “Aelir?” I looked from the dish that had been put into my hands to my grandfather. “After the presentation of the holy scepter and the robes of wisdom, you will make the oath of regency in front of the nobility of Melowynn and those who have been invited. The gathering will be small given the short amount of time for invitations tobe sent out, but there is no help for that. After your oath, the exalted cloisterer will anoint you with holy oil, then you shall be crowned and robed.”

“I have already been crowned,” I pointed out around a bite of hearty bread with rye and sesame seeds.

“That was a provisional crowning. This one will be officially entered into the scrolls of lineage and pedigree.” I opened my mouth. “No, do not argue this point. It is how things are done, Aelir. I am aware you bristle at tradition.”

“I do not bristle at tradition. I bristle at old ways that have outlived their use or bigoted precedent that serves to keep some people in poverty while others live in grandeur. I chafe at—”

“Please, spare us the ramblings of the youthful idealists. I am well aware of what chafes you, Aelir. I have heard your speeches for years. I do hope that when you pick your advisors, you choose men and women who are not going to kiss the ring simply to curry favor.”

“I…I’ve not thought about my choice of advisors yet,” I confessed as I plucked a slice of a pink apple from my dish. “I had assumed you would stay on as one of my two most trusted regents.”

Some of the aggravation left his face. “I would be honored, Your Highness,” Umeris replied, then quickly returned to our schedule. “After the robing and crowning, you shall be taken back to Avolire, where you shall be seated on the ivory throne in the throne room with your queen on your right and the other consorts. I have been advised that new smaller thrones for the consorts are already under construction, but for now, they shall have to stand four steps behind on either side of the royal couples’ thrones. Once you all are ready, homage from the visiting dignitaries will begin. Afterward, there will be a feast.”

“When will I be able to speak with the people of Melowynn? I wish to hear what they have to say about the kingdom and their thoughts on how better to rule it.”

Umeris sighed. “Aelir, they will see you during the processions. Surely you do not wish to simply throw open the doors of Avolire and let murderers flow into the castle? Has one king’s death not been enough?”

“Well, no, yes, of course I merely—”

“You will have monthly meetings with the public to hear their complaints.”

I nodded, chewed, and looked past Umeris, who was now filling my ear about titles. I caught sight of a pair of gray-and-white gulls soaring skyward. How free they were, wings spread, the wind lifting them higher and higher. I wondered if I would ever be that carefree again. Would I ever again run through the woods with Kenton to find seeds and toads and badger dens?

“Aelir, youmustpay attention. There are petitions and new peerage titles for you to decide upon.” My grandfather’s sharp voice pulled me from the clouds. What did I know of titles and why did new peerage have to be appointed? Simply because a new king sat on the throne? What would become of the old title holders? What was the basis for giving out new titles? Would those who were not given titles retaliate against me and mine? None of my tutors had ever touched on this topic. Only princes would be taught such things, not heirs of vills.

“You will do fine, my love,” V’alor said as my mind began to spiral with worry. I licked the crumbs from my lips, smiled at my husband, and nodded. Yes, I would do fine. If I kept repeating that to myself for the rest of my life, I might start to believe it. Maybe. If I grew to be as old as Umeris. “Ouch! Why are your pins so sharp?!”

“They would be of little use if they were dull, Your Grace,” the tailor shot back while plucking another silver needle from the pincushion on his thin wrist.

“Your wit is as sharp as your needles, good tailor.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

V’alor and I both chuckled at the tailor’s quick humor, our gazes gently touching.

I would carry his warm gaze and soft chortle with me through what would be a long, boring, and tiring day of pompatus.

If I thought that a day filled with grandeur and overindulgent feasting was excessive, nothing prepared me for the sight of the king’s sleeping chamber.

With V’alor at my side, for the queen and her consort had retired earlier, citing a tightening of the queen’s internals, we stood stock still just inside one of four doors leading into a room the size of the smallest ballroom in Avolire. One door led to a hallway that fed into the queen’s sleeping area. Another led to a room where I would be dressed and undressed daily by a fleet of valets that I had yet to get to know by name. Another door was to V’alor’s chamber, a bit smaller but just as overindulgent, done in shades of dark green and plum.

The sound of flutes filled the room from the six flutists sitting on padded white footstools at the foot of the bed. The bed itself could easily hold a small contingent of people. The canopies were white with blue peonies that matched the walls.

Yes, the walls were white with blue flocked flowers. The floors were made of glistening ivory marble squares, and the wardrobes were deepest royal blue. There were statues of past kings on pedestals in the corners, and in front of a wall of slimwindows that opened to the gardens, a small table of purest white birch wood held a huge vase filled with blue peonies.

“I know that Raloven was fond of peonies,” V’alor commented as the six elves playing an old tune about love and fidelity played on. “But the flautists?”

“I think I mentioned to Fylson that I enjoyed flute music over the coronation feast.”

“Ah.”

I took a few steps into the room. “Your music is most enjoyable, but my husband and I would like to undress now,” I told the players.

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