Chapter Two
WE THUNDERED INTO THE COURTYARD of Avolire the following morning.
Hasulett was spent, his sides slathered with sweat, his temper high. Sliding from his back, I placed my cheek on his wet neck, my hand on his nose, and opened myself up to him.
You are the fastest horse in Melowynn. Strong, sturdy, the rival of any other horse in these grand stables. I thank you for your speed and companionship.
He turned his head slightly to allow me to see his big brown eyes as he studied me. Then, as he always did after a long ride, he pushed into me slightly, opening his thoughts.
Friend. Trust you. Safe rides. Good feed. Friend.
Yes, you can always trust me. I love you, friend.
A stable boy darted up to us, eager-eyed, dirty as a dime found in the gutter.
“This is my dearest friend on four legs. Curry him well. Give him extra rations of hay, grain, and water. Cover him with a soft blanket, for he dislikes being cold. Do you understand? If he is not treated as well as the king’s horse, he will tell me, and I will be forced to inform the stablemaster. ”
“No, Outrider, no need for that! I will tend to him as if he were the king’s own steed. I will sleep with him as well!”
I patted the lad’s dark blond head and sent him off with a copper all his own. Hasulett plodded along behind the lad, eager for a nice stall with fresh food, water, and a brushing.
The castle was coming alive with workers, even at this early time, but a pallor rode on the winds that blew in off the sea.
Hefting my old woolen satchel, bow and quiver, and sleeping roll to my shoulder, I made my way past the livestock pens, now full as the day’s butchering had yet to commence.
A dozen or so sheep stood in a pen off to the side, shorn, ready to be turned into one of the queen’s favored meals.
The tang of animal dung tickled my nose.
It was not an offensive smell to me. I would much rather inhale the scent of sweaty horse or cow shit than the overpowering scents worn by the members of the court.
Many did not bathe frequently. There is no amount of perfume that can cover the stink of hog shit, my grandmother liked to say.
I missed her. Perhaps someday soon I would get time to visit her.
She had saved me from a life in the bandit camps, or worse, being thrown into a gibbet for thievery or murder, for surely that was where I would have found myself.
Sliding through a side door beside the well room, I slipped into the kitchen.
Selphie was at her table, plucking the first of the ducks for tonight’s dinner, her bright blue eyes lifting from her task when I called out her name.
Widow Poppy whipped around, her gaze lighting on me, a frown settling on her face.
“What the black hells are you doing stepping into my kitchen reeking of horse? Get out before your stench fouls the poultry or we find loose horse hairs in the rising loaves. Go!” She waved a large wooden ladle while a thin older elf, the pantler, eyed me with disgust. “If I find one hair in the bread, you will have to ride to the edges of the uncharted isles to avoid my wrath!”
I darted to a table filled with small tarts coated in fine white sugar, plucked one from the cooling rack, and looked at Selphie.
“Ailmon thinks of you hourly and longs to hold you in his arms,” I yelled, darting out of the kitchen clutching the plum tart, still warm from the ovens. I deftly avoided colliding with one of the scullery maids coming into the kitchen. She yelped. Widow Poppy shouted. The pantler glowered.
With my pilfered treat in hand, I ate as I made my way from the underbelly of Avolire into the castle proper.
Grimy from the road, stinking of elf and horse sweat, I wished I had time to wash up in my rooms beside the barracks but reporting to Aelir was of great import.
So I jogged along, eating my tart, cloth satchel on my shoulder, to the upper levels of the castle.
I was stopped outside the royal family’s chambers by a guard who I did not recognize.
I did take note of the black armband on his biceps.
A sign that someone had died, my assumption that it was Umeris Stillcloud felt more like a sure thing.
But perhaps it was another high-ranking elf or noble person.
“I am Beiro Vahorn, outrider for the king’s exploratory committee, requesting to see the king if he is available to me? He summoned me from the Glotte.”
“Wait here, and I’ll announce you. He’s currently meeting with others,” the guard explained, so I smiled and leaned against a cool, white stone wall to wait.
It could be a while—a common elf did not rush the ruler of Melowynn—so I began to fiddle inside my pack, seeking some paperwork the wilder warden had sent along for Aelir regarding the progress of the logging camp.
All were sealed in wax, still dry and neat, as the king liked.
As I checked them over, the sound of familiar laughter drew my attention.
A jolt of affection raced through me as Pasil’s distinct chuckle floated down on the warm ocean winds that moved through Avolire.
I was about to call out when he and the Sandrayan ambassador Teryn Nouradi moved into view.
Hands clasped, heads together in what seemed to be an intimate conversation.
Pasil’s warm smile for the Sandrayan envoy grew even wider when he saw me.
“Beiro! You’ve returned earlier than we had anticipated!
” Pasil crowed, leading the handsome elf in flowing yellow robes down the hall at speed.
Unsure of what I was seeing but feeling a cold rock of hurt dropping into my gut, I stood straight as a skinning pole.
Pasil released the ambassador’s hand to hug me to him.
A firm, friendly embrace, as one would give a brother, followed by a clap on the shoulder that made me wince. “You smell like Hasulett, my friend.”
“I…I came directly here when I arrived,” I informed him, my sight darting to the pleasant dignitary waiting patiently, hands folded behind his back. “The summons seemed important.”
“That it is.” Pasil held tight to my shoulder.
“Much has transpired since you left on your latest mission.” His eyes flitted to the guards on either side of the solar door and then back to me.
“Please join us for dinner this evening. After you speak to King Aelir, you will have a better grasp of the situation at hand.”
Us? Surely the ambassador was not dining in the barracks with the guards and scouts. “I would be happy to do so. I must bathe and change first. Shall I come to your captain’s quarters or will we meet at a pub?”
“I am no longer residing in the barracks. My cousin now has my quarters.” He reached out for Teryn’s hand, which was gladly given. “Teryn and I have a small holding on the outskirts of Celear. We’d love to have you come out. Spend the night. The guest rooms are comfortable if not overly large.”
“Yes, please, Scout Vahorn, come out to the farm. We have a delightful cook who is learning how to season things properly,” he said in a teasing manner.
Pasil rolled his pretty eyes then gave the hand held in his a kiss on the knuckles.
My gut tightened. So they were a couple.
How? When? Why? My head was filled with a thousand questions, my heart heavy as I saw the devotion Pasil had in his eyes when he peered at the ambassador.
“We would love your company. Pasil speaks highly of your skills tracking and exploring the wilds. I just had Porgo bring over some red tea to tide me over for the next few months. A new blend with a touch of orange peel and saffron. Truly delightful, if I do say so myself. Oh! We can have some of that spring lamb that cook was going on about last night. I’ll send a runner to tell her to place it on the spit after rubbing it down with the dried rose petals as well as the other spices I have passed over to her. ”
“Oh, uhm…” I felt trapped just like a hare cornered by a fox. “I do not eat meat.”
“Forgive me. I should have recalled that about the druids of the woods. No lamb then. A rice dish! Yes, with plenty of beans and red peppers. I will instruct her to bake some twice-risen bread as well to go with the rice and beans. Oh, and a dessert. Perhaps a light cookie or two? Flaky pastry filled with nuts, honey, and cardamom. Yes, that sounds perfect. Let me go send a page to the farm now before we are pulled into another lengthy discussion of wharf measurements. Scout Vahorn, I look forward to hosting you at our little estate. We have a lovely stable as well, so your trusted steed will be well pampered.”
“Go send the page before the queen summons you and you have not even entered your office yet to gather your notes,” Pasil jokingly said, which made Teryn grin.
They shared a long look, a tender kiss, and the ambassador was off in a whirlwind of safflower robing.
Only when Teryn was inside his office did Pasil return his sight to me.
He looked truly smitten, much like Ailmon when he speaks of Selphie.
“You look as if I had just slapped you in the face with a trout.”
“I feel much that way.” I looked around, giving myself a moment to gather my thoughts. The pain in my stomach a low ache…like a bad tooth. The castle was in mourning. That was obvious and would be for a fortnight as the king’s grandfather lay in state. “I…I seem to have missed a lot.”