Chapter Eleven #3
I wiggled over a bit to make room for Le’ral.
Prescott was given his own carriage with Lady Merrilyn and Guard Commander V’alor.
He’d not been happy about the separation, but I told him Lady Merrilyn carried rum candies, so he agreed to ride behind us.
I suspected right now a soaking wet page boy was toting rum candies to the second state carriage in line to depart the castle.
The twins were running late. Cranky after a late night with their beloved new uncle in the library, they would arrive shortly before the proclamation or after.
It depended on whether they threw any royal fits.
“As you know, Your Majesty, a life on the sea is a noble calling,” I parried, moving my cutlass to the left to keep it out of harm’s way. I’d not felt right carrying a royal blade. This was the cutlass of the Caderes, and so it belonged on my side.
“Agreed, it is, if the life is spent on the side of lawfulness and right,” the queen replied.
“Please, may we not fall into this tiresome argument this morning?” Aelir interrupted before I could rebuke the queen’s comment. “This is a joyful day for the realm. A missing prince has been found and returned to us. Let’s spend this morning without bickering, please?”
Raewyn nodded her intricately coiffed dark head then set to tapping her fan on her thigh.
“Sorry, I’m always a little fussy when I’m about to be foisted off to a temple filled with nobility who would sooner spit in my eye than shake my hand,” I blathered then fell silent.
“They would not dare spit in the eye of the elf who has been granted the lands and titles of Renedith. Nor will they speak out of turn to my brother, who has been bestowed a crown of Melowynn. Speaking of which…”
I frowned. “I’m not comfortable in a crown, Aelir. I’d rather just wear a little silver circlet if I have to wear anything on my head at all.”
“Hmm, well, I suppose that will work for this?” Aelir looked at Le’ral.
“This morning’s proclamation reading is surely a fine time for the new prince of the realm to be introduced in a circlet.
The shock of seeing one of the holy crowns of Melowynn sitting on the head of a privateer who possesses blood that is not wholly regal might be difficult to swallow for the noble houses. ”
I pointed at Le’ral. “That’s what I wanted to say. We don’t want to stuff me down their throats.”
The queen rolled her eyes. Aelir snickered.
Le’ral turned a fine shade of plum. The carriage lurched forward.
My guts were in turmoil. The lucent in my pocket was ice cold, pulsing with each thump of my heart.
My magicks were tightly spun, the lack of sleep and tension wound inside me making the powers that normally sat softly inside my breast feel…
I couldn’t place the feeling, but it was as ugly as the weather.
Rain poured downward, winds buffeted the carriage.
Not for the first time this day, I wondered what kind of idiots would venture forth to a cathedral that sat next to a violent sea in courtly finery to welcome a prince who wished to be anywhere but in that fucking cathedral.
When we rolled through ornate gates to the seaside shrine of Ihdos, I peeked through the closed windows to see dozens and dozens of carriages being battered by waves and wind strong enough to blow a horse over.
There were scant few commoners at the gates.
Seemed only the nobles were daft enough to ride through a typhoon in their finery to gawk and titter.
We were rushed inside. Footmen and pages with large coverings held over our heads escorted us into the main vestibule. Prescott hurried to my side as we were led into a side room where the oldest elf I had ever seen bowed and blessed the king, the queen, the consorts, then turned to me.
“This is the new prince?” the ancient one asked. His sight flew to Prescott, who was making large fingerprints in the warm wax at the base of a candle. “And this troll is under the full control of your brother?”
“Yes, Exalted Cloisterer, this is my brother, Coelum Stillcloud, the new Lord of Renedith. The half troll is Sir Prescott, duly appointed sentry of Lord Coelum, and is a trusted ally of the crown,” Aelir said while underlings of the church patted at the hems and shoulders of V’alor and Merrilyn’s speckled attire.
I didn’t miss the fact that my paternal last name was no longer said.
Just as if Pontious Cadere had never existed, his name was stricken from all the decrees and scrolls of lineage, I assumed.
Only my mother’s name was to be used, and only in disgraced tones.
For she had spread her legs for a dirty pirate.
The shame of it all. It didn’t sit well in my craw, to be honest.
The old elf droned on at me, kissing my knuckles, blessing me with scented smoke from a dozen censers carried by under-clerics.
We filed out of the antechamber into a damp room, lit with thousands of white and gold candles, many as tall as the mainmast of the Cloud’s Shame.
Massive stained-glass windows surrounded us, the tempestuous sea slamming into the delicate-colored glass over and over.
My eyes were drawn to the towering statue of Ihdos.
He stood above us, eyes blank, hands raised, his hair spread out about his bare feet.
Each pew was filled with elves in finery and jewelry so resplendent that the temple itself dimmed in comparison.
Each of the slightly damp nobles eyed me like a new dish to be placed before them and pulled apart to discover its secrets.
Le’ral guided me to where I would stand throughout the morning prayers, to the back and left of Aelir, where the twins would stand once they arrived.
Behind the key heirs, as the ambassador and Le’ral had explained over and over.
When I was officially announced as a prince of the realm, I would step forward to take my place ahead of the royal consorts.
Even though I possessed not a drop of royal blood.
It was all utter nonsense. Yet, here I stood, with sweaty palms, my eyes on the ocean beating mercilessly against the windows.
The nobles were all quietly looking me over, whispering behind silk fans, their faces painted and dusted white, their ears long and sharp, their eyes narrowed.
Each one surely picking at each disgusting trait of the pirate prince.
Mentally plotting, hissing like cats that a half-bred stain on the name of Stillcloud was being brought amongst them.
Why surely the king was mad to expect those of noble elven blood to accept this foul swine!
You may dress and perfume a pig, but it was still a pig. Even I, the pig, knew this to be true.
Scanning the crowds as the opening benediction dragged on, I spied my crew, far in the back, standing among a neat row of church acolytes.
Hyla waved as our eyes met, then she pointed at her wooden leg and the new yellow slipper upon it.
Pith, Simon, they were all here, and all looked quite nicely kitted out.
I’d have to thank my brother for allowing them to witness their captain becoming something far different from what he had been not so long ago.
For a flash of a moment, I dreamt of throwing the silver circlet resting on a fat pillow beside the Exalted Cloisterer into the sea and running hell bent for leather to my ship.
I spied Beiro and Asdren in the back with my crew. My eyes went to the stone scrollwork in the ceiling to find…ah, yes, there he was, sitting atop the ornate curved stonework like a cat. Jaculi, tail wrapped around his body, bright blue eyes bored.
Then the twins arrived, bringing smiles to all in attendance as they took their place in front of me, each taking one of my clammy hands.
Locating a white candle the height of a tree in the corner, I focused on it…
the flicker of the flame, the way the wax ran down the slim taper until my sight drifted to the stone wall.
The Exalted Cloisterer was talking about Ihdos and his love for those who came into his temple to renounce their simplistic ways to attain a spiritual metamorphosis.
I stared at the droplet of water seeping through the stone.
I watched it as it slithered down the wall to join other puddles of seawater that lay unheeded by the masses.
Candlelight reflected off the pools. The nobles packed into this ostentatious temple seemingly uncaring about the gathering of ocean water at their feet.
Surely their silken slippers would be stained if nothing else.
The longer I stood under the light of a thousand candles, the stronger the urge to bolt.
This was not me. This was what Aelir wished me to be, and for the life of me, if I did not speak out, I would—
The largest puddle moved. I blinked, sure that the smoke of all the fucking candles mingling with the aroma of a hundred or so differing perfumes had blurred my vision.
Shifting to the left slightly to see the largest pool around a noblewoman of such girth she required a third of a pew to rest her arse on and stared at the mere.
A shimmer ran across the surface much like a ripple in a glass of water when Prescott plays leapfrog with Simon.
I moved right to see around the large woman and caught a small undulation in the pool.
Shaking free of the sticky grip of my nephew for a moment, I slid my right hand into the small coin bag on my belt.
My fingers skimmed the lucent, jerking away as it was ice cold.
Another billow moved over the large puddle then another.
I glanced at the other pools at the base of the walls.
Each one seemed to be swelling, the seawater congealing and then slowly rising from the puddles.
A watery head rose from the pools of brine.