Page 50 of D'Vaire or Nothing
“Yeah, could get tricky, but the important thing is we’re going to have fun.”
Blowing a kiss at Donnell, Josh used sorcery to twist himself into a version of Dylan and made himself a sword that appropriately had a watery blade. Across from him, a bear composed of four elements appeared, and Josh honestly didn’t know how his life could get any better.
Chapter 8
Chieftain-mate Evlithar Cwylld-D’Vaire grinned as he stepped into a fabric store with his other half, Cadlyr, at his side. For most resorts, a shop full of baubles, material, and pattern options would be low on the list of priorities. But thankfully, the royal family included a successful clothing company.
The sprites of Tiri’s Textiles were incredibly talented, and Evlithar reveled in any opportunity to work with them. As a proud employee of Elven D’Vaire—which had started as a small group of elves wishing to experiment with clothing in a vast array of colors but was now part of what was formerly called the Valzadari Beading Company—Evlithar loved to promote the arts.
But, more importantly, in his soul, he remained a simple elf with a fondness for embroidery. As he glanced up at the tall blond dressed exquisitely in lavender and blue, Evlithar admitted to himself that Cadlyr was his greatest inspiration for new projects. It was why Cadlyr’s closet was fuller than Evlithar’s. Something the Cwylld chieftain complained about often.
Cadlyr was generous and routinely sewed things for Evlithar, but he insisted on adding traditional Acwellan beadingto everything. The beading added time to his projects. That didn’t bother Evlithar. He loved the way his clothing sparkled thanks to the gorgeous beads and thanked Cadlyr effusively.
Like Cadlyr, Evlithar was well versed in the art of Acwellan beading, but he saved it for special designs and mostly stuck to his favored embroidery.
Perhaps sensing the way Evlithar was staring at him, Cadlyr turned his head and smiled. To Evlithar’s delight, Cadlyr placed a gentle kiss on his lips.
“It’s a wonderful shop,” Cadlyr said.
“Yes, but not nearly as fantastic as my mate.”
“You flatter me, Ev. And, for the record, my other half is the best elf. Where do you want to start in here?”
Evlithar chuckled. “You should know the answer to that question. I want to see what they have available in purple.”
“Don’t you dare sew anything else for me,” Cadlyr stated in a tone usually reserved for arguing against Council bills in the Main Assembly Hall on the rare occasions when he attended the weekday sessions. “My closet is overflowing.”
“But I had an idea to embroider an entire outfit with little cheese wheels for you.”
“I don’t love cheese that much.”
Delighted with the scowl on his fierce chieftain’s face, Evlithar tugged on his hand and dragged him to the purple fabrics. Evlithar could put up with Cadlyr’s protests, but he refused to stop creating beautiful things for him.
“This morning I wondered about making a cloak with a sword embroidered on it like the one Fate gave you to lead the Cwylld.”
“I rarely wear cloaks,” Cadlyr argued. “Make one for your cousin. He’s a regular in the Main Assembly Hall and would have many more opportunities to show it off.”
Evlithar closed his eyes and switched his vision from a lavender cloak to one befitting a Valzadari chieftain mated to a black centaur.
“I could do the sword in blue beads on a piece of Rafe or Aleksander’s dragonskin,” Evlithar murmured.
“Mix the two dragonskins. The blues and blacks will shift as Kalthekor walks.”
Excited about Cadlyr’s suggestion, Evlithar kissed him. “I wonder if I should call Kalthekor. Would he prefer the sword in the deep blues of his actual mark from Fate on the day he was made chieftain of the Valzadari or in the lighter color of our skin? It would be a better contrast against the dark dragonskin.”
“You know he’d leave that decision up to you,” Cadlyr responded. “Kalthekor trusts your instincts.”
For centuries, Evlithar had worked for a terse, unhappy Kalthekor and hadn’t realized until he resolved his issues with Cadlyr how misused he had been by his cousin. But nothing about their lives was the same. Kalthekor and his first mate had a child, and Pyxlevir had altered his father into a man driven by his feelings.
To Evlithar’s disbelief, Kalthekor had apologized to him, and they were the closest of friends now. The only person closer to Kalthekor was the second person Fate had paired the Valzadari chieftain with after the death of Pyxlevir’s mother. Chieftain-mate Aristos Valzadari-Centaurus was a wonderful partner to Kalthekor and, along with every centaur, doted on the now-grown Pyxlevir.
Tugging his phone out of his pocket, Evlithar unlocked it and tapped on his contacts. “I think I’ll text him anyway.”
Cadlyr grinned. “Of course you will, headstrong elf.”
Since Evlithar had once refused to stand up for himself, he was proud of the way he now trusted himself to make hisown decisions, even if they were little things like choosing to call someone he loved.
Evlithar received an immediate response from Kalthekor and smiled at Cadlyr, who kissed him. “They’re shopping nearby and are going to pop in here.”
