Page 51 of D'Vaire or Nothing
“Poor Kalthekor is about to be bombarded with design questions he’ll have no clue how to answer,” Cadlyr teased.
“He’s an intelligent elf and knows what he likes; Kalthekor will be fine.”
“It’s been my experience that no Valzadari lacks a strong sense of self, and they all have endless opinions.”
It was tempting to roll his eyes at Cadlyr since he was headstrong and opinionated too, but Evlithar chose to focus on the lavender fabrics instead.
Cadlyr sighed. “I guess you’re still thinking of adding something to my closet.”
“Or maybe I want some purple for myself.”
“You look gorgeous in purple, Ev. You’re beautiful in everything, but purple and blue suit you best.”
“I only wear blues and purples,” Evlithar argued.
“Because you’re an artist with an excellent eye.”
“Evlithar?”
Turning at the sound of his cousin’s voice, Evlithar poked his head around a fabric display and waved. Kalthekor and Aristos were there, and so was their son, Pyxlevir. The elf—who’d recently left his teenage years behind him—was smiling. Unfortunately, it didn’t reach his deep blue eyes.
Although Pyxlevir had been a sunny child who rushed exuberantly through life, he wasn’t anymore. His best friend had taken off on a trip a couple of years prior and never returned. Gramlithyn Verdanyth was purportedly traveling the world and no longer responded to anyone, including his parents and his former pals.
Pyxlevir hadn’t taken the abandonment well and was far more reserved as he balanced working full time for Elven D’Vaire and completing a degree in business through the prestigious Spectra Wizardry education system. It saddened Evlithar. He wanted his nephew to have happiness in every aspect of his life.
Evlithar was also angry at Gramlithyn. If he’d wanted to end his friendship with Pyxlevir, he should’ve been direct. Mistakes were inevitable, and Evlithar had done plenty that he regretted. He’d thought only of himself nearly two thousand years ago when he’d faked his death to avoid a matebond with Cadlyr, and it had hurt the man Fate had given him.
While Pyxlevir and Gramlithyn weren’t mates, they’d been inseparable since they were six years old. The last thing Evlithar had expected was that either of them would act selfishly, and Gramlithyn’s decision not to be honest about his desire to discontinue their friendship rankled. Evlithar hoped Pyxlevir would someday have the chance to confront the elf-zebra hybrid to tell him how mean he had been, but he doubted his nephew was interested in a confrontation with Gramlithyn any longer.
“Did you invite us here to pick out some fabric for Cadlyr?” Aristos asked, humor dancing in his dark eyes. “I’m thinking orange.”
“Dad, you know elves wear their tribal colors,” Pyxlevir replied with a roll of his eyes.
“Maybe change it up and live a little.”
“You wish us to change up a tradition that dates back tens of thousands of years?” Kalthekor asked. “I had no idea you found our culture so boring and staid.”
“Maybe I just don’t like lavender,” Aristos teased.
“That’s fine, I suddenly have a strong dislike for centaurs,” Cadlyr drawled, his smile highlighting the palepurple-and-blue scrollwork Fate had put on his cheek the day his soul was bound to Evlithar’s.
“You don’t have to live with a bunch of them,” Pyxlevir muttered.
“Says the elf who finds the hardest puzzles known to this planet to torture his family with,” Aristos argued.
“Please, I haven’t made you guys do a puzzle in ages,” Pyxlevir argued.
Pain darkened Aristos’s gaze. “I know. I miss puzzles.”
Pyxlevir shrugged moodily. “I’m going to check out which Elven D’Vaire beads they have in stock.”
“Kal, I didn’t mean to piss him off,” Aristos remarked as he gently kissed Kalthekor’s temple.
“It’s not your fault, Aris. My once-radiant son has grown into an often-sullen adult. It’s fine if he doesn’t want to do puzzles any longer; I just wish he wasn’t so unhappy. Yes, Gramlithyn’s course changed, and he’s been traveling for years. We worry about him. His parents vacillate between anxiety and anger. But losing friendships is unfortunately part of life. Either Pyxlevir requires some kind of closure or he needs to broaden his horizons to make new companions. Whatever it is, I wish he’d find it so he has joy again. That is what I wish most for him.”
“We all want that,” Aristos assured his other half as he wrapped an arm around him. “I miss feisty little Pyx who’d sing songs to get them stuck in my head or force us to carry around his stuffed animals. Now, they’re tucked in a fucking box. No one told me losing a child to adulthood would hurt so fucking bad.”
Kalthekor remained concerned about Pyxlevir, but he chuckled. “Aris’s brothers told me that if they’d known having Pyxlevir grow up would be so hard emotionally, they wouldn’t have allowed me to move him in after Aris and I combined our souls.”
