Page 10 of A Serenade To The Elf Queen
King Casimir the Brave, the very founder of Aelfheim.
Multiple chandeliers made of solid gold hang from the roof of the ballroom. They illuminate the stories on the ceiling of how my ancestors saved the realm of mortals from the threat of dark creatures of the night.
Emerald tapestries with the Wiolant house crest bedecks the walls around us. Despite the opulence of the hall and the lavish decorations, everything is practical and pragmatic. Nothing like the fae revelry in the south. Aelfric will usually escort me to my royal throne at the far end of the hall but tonight is the magical Merafall. I circle the room to talk to the Aldarelfs and High Elves under my knight’s watchful eyes from the shadows.
“I heard.”
I whirl to the smooth, silken voice behind me.
Dark-haired, brown-skinned with eyes as blue as the ocean; there is a regal air by which he carries himself in his fine silver clothing. I bow my head to the apparent heir of the Kashran Sovereign, the only neighboring elven kingdom recognized by the Aeonians.
“I miss you, cousin,” Kahedin says by way of greeting, enveloping me in a warm embrace. He still calls me that even though our family ties are distant enough for Rainer to place him in my line of suitors. I would have jumped into his arms and kissed his cheek, but I keep my High Elf mask glued to my face.
He holds me for a long time, uncaring of the spectators around us. I bask in his fresh citrus scent. It reminds me of my mother’s garden in Völundr.
Kahedin parts from me reluctantly. “Far be it from me to criticize the rule of succession in Aelfheim, but whoever invented the Archon must be nuts.”
I stop breathing entirely. “You can’t say that out loud.” I panic, looking around left and right. I pray no one heard his direct insult to the Aeonians.
“Völundr should separate itself from the motherland the way we did,” he says carelessly.
Fear hits me with full force.
Kahedin narrows his eyes to the Aldarelfs around the room. “I could never understand why you flock together like little birds.”
For safety in numbers against the fae. But it also means submitting to the Elders’ brutal rules. I swallow nervously at my cousin’s constant jabs at the Aeonians.
“I haven’t seen Rainer around,” he muses, his eyes scanning the room.
“He won’t be joining us tonight,” I say softly. “I’ll send him your regards and tell him you’re looking forward to a jousting rematch.”
Kahedin smiles, broad and unburdened. “Please do.”
We both notice Aldarelf Hawthorne on our periphery, vying for Kahedin’s attention. The lord has been trying to pair him with his daughter for ages.
“I don’t think you can avoid Leland for much longer,” I mutter with a light laugh. A muscle twitches on my cousin’s chiseled cheekbone.
“This has been nice,” he says with a long heave. “If you need refuge, security, anything. Just name it, and I will provide it for you.”
I smile at the generous offer.
“Although with Rainer around, I doubt you have to worry about the Archon,” he says with conviction.
Kahedin kisses my forehead before leaving. He doesn’t know that my uncle has never been the same since my sister died. The glorious Silver Stag of the East who saved Kashran from theDiarmal rebellion is long gone. All that is left now is a husk of a warrior who craves for one thing and one thing only.
Revenge.
I shift my eyes from my cousin’s retreating back to the abundance of food on the long table. Almost the entirety of it will be discarded at the end of the night. It’s such a waste. None of the people in this hall know what it’s like to be so hungry you start chewing on your fingers. I pray they never will. Blaire and I would have fought tooth and nail for a scrap of what’s on that table. I push away the old memories and listen politely to the members of the court as they volunteer their warriors to be my champion.
“That’s him,” Aelfric suddenly whispers in my ear, emerging from the shadows.
I have seen Gerailt Clayborne in passing before; tall, lean built with bright golden hair loosely tied back and clear emerald eyes. Tonight, the Commander of the Valorian is glorious and charming in his dark wine-red blazer. His beauty is the kind possessed by all dangerous beings like him—panthers, wolves.
“The Prime God he serves is Kvatosh, the God of Chaos and War,” I whisper back, tracking his movements.
“Arawynn too,” Aelfric adds.
“The Goddess of Love?”
