Page 86 of A Vow of Wrath and Ruin

“Don’t you start.” Tharan crooked his head at her, brows knitted. “I don’t want you two to treat me differently now that I’m king.”

Hopper stepped forward, fanning out the skirt of Tharan’s robe. “But that’s just it. Youare our kingnow. Not our friend. Not the playboy bastard son.TheAlder King. It is only right we hold you in reverence.”

“Fine. Let’s get this over with so we can find the Well and return to the Woodland Realm.”

“Very Well.” Hopper bowed his head to his king. “I will lead. You will follow, and Sumac and the Hunt will take up the rear.”

Light streamed through the massive windows of the throne room, casting everything in a white light. Tharan tried to keep his eyes on the back of Hopper’s head, but the elegant paintings of the Trinity besting deities long dead pulled his eyes toward the ceiling. Strings of floral garlands hung from the rafters, and the sigil of the Woodland Realm hung prominently above the dais. He wished Aelia was by his side to give him courage and ward off any talk of potential suitors.

Trumpets played as they made their way down the aisle. Hundreds, maybe even thousands of eyes, bored into them. Sylph were rarely welcomed with such pomp and circumstance,but it wasn’t every day the Alder King graced them with his presence.

Tharan wondered if this was where they dragged his mother when Arendir found her pregnant with a sylph’s child. Is this where they killed her? Or did they do that in a more public place so the elven kingdom could see? His chest tightened with anger, but he did not let it show on his face. He would not give these petty elves something to whisper about.

Hopper stopped short, and Tharan nearly ran into him. Bowing low, he announced Tharan’s arrival, “Your Highness, I present to you, Tharan Greenblade, the Alder King, Ruler of the Wild Courts, and keeper of the sacred magic of the Woodland Realm.”

Tharan kneeled before the dais. It was customary to avert your eyes before being acknowledged by the king in an elven court.

“Rise,” an ancient voice echoed through the marbled halls.

Tharan looked up to see a figure bathed in white staring down at him from atop the dais. Long white hair flowed over tanned skin with a face not unlike his own. Sharp features gave way to an elegant mouth and large green eyes—his eyes. A crown of woven silver with a ruby in the center sat atop his head. With the Original Breath still in his lungs, he looked no older than fifty despite being thousands of years old.

In his right hand, he held a staff of carved White Ash. Behind him, a dozen similar looking elves sat, their eyes lowered on Tharan. Were these the king’s children? No. Everyone knew the elves had trouble conceiving. To have two children was considered a blessing from Eris. Arendir looked to have at least twenty sitting behind him. Where was their mother? Mothers?

“My grandson has finally come to visit me,” he said to the chuckle of the crowd.

Tharan gritted his teeth and tried not to roll his eyes. “Greetings, mighty King Arendir. It is an honor to be in your presence.”

“The honor is all mine. It’s not every day your grandson becomes the Alder King.”

You’ve known it was possible my whole life, yet you have refused to acknowledge me.

Tharan cleared his throat.

“It is time our great houses joined forces. I’ve brought you gifts from the Woodland Realm.” He stepped to the side, and the Hunt placed chests of treasures in front of the dais for the entire court to see.

The king’s eyes raked over the gold and jewels.

“An acceptable offering, if meager.”

“There is one more thing.” Tharan snapped his fingers, and the clacking of hooves echoed through the halls of the throne room. Two satyrs trotted astride two white unicorns.

An audible gasp rippled through the crowd.

Arendir’s eyes widened, and he stepped toward the magnificent creatures, moving with the ethereal grace that only comes from millennia of life. “Now, this is a gift worthy of the original Elven King.”

The horses stopped when they reached Tharan, pawing at the ancient tile and champing at their bits. He took their reins and gently ran his hands over their soft cheeks, settling the creatures. “A mating pair so that you may grow your herd.”

The king approached the horses, stroking their muscular necks softly so as not to spook the flighty creatures. “Shh… It’s alright,” he cooed. The unicorns pawed at the marble floor.

“I hope you find this more acceptable,” Tharan said, a smug smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“How did you…” The king shook his head before clapping his hands together gleefully. “Come. We have much to discuss.”Turning to his court, he dismissed them. Elves filed out of the Great Hall, whispering under their breath as they went.

The satyrs followed the crowd with the horses. In contrast, Tharan and his company followed Arendir and his advisors into an elegant marble meeting room with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the bay.

Plush velvet chairs surrounded a white granite meeting table, and a fire crackled in the mammoth fireplace at the edge of the room. Tharan noticed the distinct smell of bergamot and lavender in the air. He took his seat next to his grandfather. Hopper and Sumac took their respective seats next to him, and the Hunt took up residence at the door.

“Wine. Please.” Arendir signaled to a servant who appeared to be human.

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