Chapter 19 #3
“Your belongings will be delivered directly to the Silverwing Estate,” Moira said.
“Princess Liraen approved the use of her private estate for your visit.” The envoy’s stride was measured, unhurried, yet there was something in her posture that suggested she wished to put distance between them and the watching eyes at the harbor.
As they arrived at the crossroads, a tall figure stepped forward from the small group. The captain of their escort’s eyes widened before he schooled his features back to neutrality. “Princess Aeryn,” he said, bowing low before straightening. “My lord. Welcome to Thiarra.”
A waiting carriage stood a few paces away. Unlike the ornate royal conveyances of her father’s court, this vehicle was elegant in its simplicity—sleek lines of pale wood inlaid with silver filigree. Two pale golden horses stood in harness, their coats nearly luminous against the sky.
“Your transport to the Silverwing Estate,” Moira gestured toward the carriage. “The journey will take approximately an hour.”
Aeryn glanced at Khaeric, noticing how his gaze swept over the carriage, calculating its size, its sturdiness, whether it would bear his weight without complaint. “After you, Princess.” The captain opened the carriage door.
Gathering her skirts with one hand, Aeryn approached the carriage. “Thank you.” She accepted his offered hand for balance as she climbed into the carriage.
The interior was lined with cushions of light blue silk, their softness a welcome relief after a day at sea. Aeryn settled onto one side, leaving space for Khaeric. The carriage dipped significantly as he ducked through the doorway.
The wooden frame creaked in protest but held firm as Khaeric folded his large frame into the space beside her. His knees nearly touched the opposite seat, and he had to hunch forward slightly to avoid scraping his head against the ceiling.
“The carriage was constructed with... different proportions in mind,” Moira observed Khaeric’s discomfort. “But I trust you’ll find your accommodations more suitable.”
The door closed with a soft click. The carriage swayed as the vehicle lurched forward, the horses’ hooves clattering against the cobblestone path.
Through the small window, the harbor slipped behind them as the path climbed and curved.
The white stone buildings gave way to trees, their branches forming arches over the road.
“I forgot how beautiful it is here,” she said.
“Aye,” Khaeric agreed as he looked through the small window. “Different from what I expected.”
“Different how?” Aeryn asked, turning to study his profile.
“I’m no’ sure.” His gaze remained fixed on the passing trees.
As the carriage rounded a final bend stood the Silverwing Estate, nestled among ancient silver-barked trees.
Twilight had descended fully now, and lanterns illuminated the estate with a soft glow that made the white stone shimmer.
The estate was a series of graceful structures, unlike her father’s castle or Beinn Ork’s halls.
These structures spread outward, connected by covered walkways and bridges over streams.
The carriage drew to a halt before a sweeping staircase, and the footman opened the door, offering his hand first to Aeryn.
Then, after the briefest hesitation, offered his hand to Khaeric.
The orc declined with a slight shake of his head, ducking low to exit the cramped space as the wood groaned in relief.
Aeryn’s legs felt stiff after the long ride.
She stretched discreetly, taking in the full majesty of her mother’s estate.
“Your Highness.” A slender woman in flowing robes of pale blue appeared at the top of the stairs, bowing deeply.
“Welcome to the Silverwing Estate. I am Eliara, keeper of your mother’s household.
We’ve prepared the west wing for your stay.
” Her eyes flicked to Khaeric, widening before she composed herself.
Aeryn inclined her head. “Thank you, Eliara. It’s been too long since I last visited.”
“Indeed, my lady. Almost five summers now.” Eliara’s gaze remained neutral as she gestured toward the entrance. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to your chambers.”
The entrance hall opened before them, with its high ceiling and graceful arches of pale stone. Their footsteps echoed in the vast space as they followed Eliara deeper into the estate.
“Your mother wished for you to feel comfortable during your stay,” Eliara explained as she led them down a corridor lined with tapestries depicting the ancient forests of Thiarra. She stopped before a set of double doors. “These will be your chambers.”
Eliara opened the doors to a spacious room. Tall windows looked out onto sea gardens; a large bed of carved wood claimed one wall, and a copper bath for two sat near a balcony with views of the darkening sky.
“I trust you’ll find everything to your satisfaction.
” Eliara clasped her hands together. “Your evening meal will be delivered and served in your chambers. The kitchen has prepared a selection of Thiarra’s finest dishes, along with a few heartier options that might better suit your. .. diverse tastes.”
“Thank you, Eliara. That’s most thoughtful,” Aeryn said.
“Fresh clothing has been laid out in the wardrobe,” Eliara continued, gesturing toward an elegant cabinet of light colored wood inlaid with mother-of-pearl.
She moved toward the door. “If there’s anything else you need, please ring the bell beside the bed,” she finished, gesturing to a small silver bell on the bedside table.
“A servant will attend you immediately.” With a final bow, she withdrew, closing the doors behind her.
“Well,” she said, turning to Khaeric, “we’ve arrived.”
Khaeric moved cautiously through the room, ducking beneath a hanging lantern. He tested a chair, uncertain it would hold his weight. “Everythin’ here seems…” he paused, searching for the right word. “Fragile.”
“It’s built for elves, not orcs,” Aeryn said, moving to the windows that overlooked the sea garden. “My mother’s people value elegance, but it should still be sturdy.”
Khaeric grunted, unconvinced, and approached the bed to press one hand against its surface. “At least this might hold.” The mattress yielded beneath his touch; the frame remained solid.
The enormity of what they were attempting settled over Aeryn anew; an orc in the heart of elven territory, challenging centuries of animosity with his very presence. She placed her hand gently on his arm. “In the morning,” she said softly, “a tailor will come to take your measurements.”
His brow furrowed. “A tailor? What for?”
“For more... suitable attire during our stay.” She hesitated, choosing her words with care. “The Council expects certain standards of dress for those attending formal functions. Your current garments, while practical, won’t be acceptable in court.”
“Ye mean I look too much like an orc,” Khaeric said, eyes narrowing.
Aeryn sighed, running a hand through her hair.
“The Council expects a certain... presentation.” She walked to the wardrobe, opening it to reveal garments in shades of silver and blue—colors of her mother’s house.
Her fingers traced the intricate embroidery along the sleeve.
“The elven court places tremendous value on appearance. Clothing is a language of its own. Every pattern, every color carries meaning.”
Khaeric crossed his arms over his chest, his jaw tight. “And my garb speaks the wrong words.”
“Well… yes,” Aeryn said, turning to face him. She moved closer, placing her palm against his chest. “But I’m not asking you to become someone else. Just to adapt, as I have had to adapt in Beinn Ork.”
His expression remained stoic, but there was a slight relaxation of his muscles beneath her palm. “Very well,” he conceded, his large hand covering hers. “I’ll wear their pretty silks and speak their pretty words if it gets us what we came for.”