Page 85 of Forged in Cursed Flames (Crown and Crest 2)

Henrik intercepts, giving Ayan a sharp look.

“Can’t blame a man for trying,” Ayan mutters to Lawrence.

We follow Audra and Pranmore into the boat, where the attendant waits with a professional, distant expression upon his face. If he has an opinion about Lady Audra parading around with a Woodmore on her arm, he doesn’t make it known.

It only takes a few minutes to reach the main pier, where more attendants loiter about, waiting to help well-to-do elves from the dinghies.

When we’re near, the man directing our small boat tosses a rope to the attendant who breaks away from the crowd to assist us. The man on the pier tugs us in, pulling the dinghy as if it’s no more than a child’s toy. He then ties the rope to a hook, securing the boat so we may step out without hovering precariously over the water.

“Lady Audra,” he says graciously, bowing deeply at the waist. “Welcome back to Revalane.”

She stands, accepting the man’s outstretched hand. “It’s good to be home.”

The attendant glances curiously at the men in our party, his eyes lingering a smidgen longer on Pranmore than the others. “Shall I secure a few dories for your party?”

“That would be fine,” Audra says.

A few minutes later, we slowly skim down a flower-lined waterway as we get our first glance of the elven capital.

Most of the cities of Caldenbauer are a blend of old elven and new human architecture, but Revalane is a jewel of modern elven artistry, shining in the middle of a swamp. Half of the city is built upon solid ground, and the other is connected by a grid of canals.

The High Vale citizens travel by small, elongated boats, just like the ones we’re riding in now. The vessels are directed by men who sit upon a raised seat at the rear, controlling small, sleek propulsion apparatuses. There are also stone walkways for foot traffic, constructed of a series of arched, interlocking bridges. They span the waterways, their lines graceful, designed for beauty as well as function.

There is nothing jarring about the elven city. It’s lovely and tranquil, ethereal both in the dappled light of the occasional weeping tree and the warm sunshine that glints off the water. The entire city is a reflection of the culture it represents.

How the High Vales managed to create this beautiful oasis in the middle of a murky bog is beyond me.

There are dozens of small courtyards along the canals—places designed for people to enter and exit the waterways. After traveling into the heart of the city, our dories come to a gliding stop in front of one such courtyard.

This one, however, is backed by a massive iron gate, flanked with two pillars that support large flowering urns. A pair of elven guards stand in front of us, their faces perfectly expressionless.

Nearby, Palace Eloudore rises on a slight incline in the center of the district, its elven spires shining in the golden afternoon light. I take it in eagerly, wondering what it will look like inside.

Audra says she will introduce us at court tonight, once Ayan is safely hidden away in her family’s estate. Instead of sneaking into the palace, we will waltz in as if we belong, pretending to be in Revalane to celebrate the upcoming nuptials of Lawrence’s beloved sister and to offer our congratulations to the betrothed couple.

Henrik will learn the palace's layout, and then he will remove Camellia at the first opportune moment—hopefully well before the wedding. It’s a task that will be made far more difficult if the princess has no intention of leaving, but as Ayan says, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.

Audra has assured us her mother and their family guard will gladly aid us in our mission as long as Lawrence agrees to sign an alliance contract, stating he supports the removal of Augmirian in favor of Ayan and will negotiate for better terms between the elves and humans.

It’s comforting to know we’re not the only ones who would like to avoid war between our people. There is unease in the duke’s court, and this bizarre, and unsettling, business with the human princess has only heightened the High Vales’ fears.

As for Ayan, Audra says her mother will likely reveal his identity at the next council meeting. It’s a quarterly affaire, and the next is scheduled to take place on the fifth of Sempra, only five days after the wedding. Surrounded by the highest-ranking noblemen in Ferradelle, Augmirian won’t be able to cover up Ayan’s existence again, nor deny the legitimacy of the late duke’s will.

I, personally, am glad we won’t be in the province for the messy political coup.

“This is my family’s estate,” Audra says, motioning to the gates, which the guards have already opened for us. “From here, it’s only a short walk to the manor, although I can send Lyredon ahead to call for a carriage if any of you would prefer.”

As she says it, she tosses a look at Lawrence, perhaps suspecting the prince will be too fussy to use his own two feet as a mode of transportation.

“The weather is pleasant,” he says wryly, clearly picking up on her meaning. “And as far as I am aware, fresh air has never hurt anyone.”

Satisfied, Audra and Lyredon lead the way into the estate grounds.

“My lady,” the guards say in unison as Audra passes through the gates, dipping their heads to show their respect.

She gives them her greetings and then motions to us. “These are my guests. Please remember their faces. They are free to come and go as they please.”

“Of course,” one says.

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