“I have found your temperament to be quite pleasing, especially when caged and plugged and sitting so handsomely in my carriage like a very good boy.”
His voice rumbled through me, warm and intimate, causing me to shiver while a familiar heat flared in my nether regions. The strain against his cage intensified, as did my arousal. “I believe you say these things to provoke a reaction from me, my lord.”
His devious smile only widened. “Guilty.”
The carriage stopped then and Lord Vasil parted the curtains with his rod to peer outside, squinting from the muted light of the overcast sky. Elemental sorcerers had spun the clouds to block the worst of the sun’s rays for the comfort of Lord Vasil and his vampyre relations. A man who could command the skies surely deserved the title of king.
Outside our window were a dozen or so people dressed in drab gray robes, chanting, each of them holding a book in one hand and a scepter with a crystal prism in the other. The crystals refracted light from all angles, temporarily blinding me.
“Keepers of the Light,” Vasil said before I could ask. “The prisms are meant to ward off the vampyre. If you’re blinded by the light, then your blood is impure.”
“Light reflected off a prism would blind anyone,” I said, scoffing at the utter nonsense. “Why don’t you have them arrested?” I asked, for my mother would have swept the area clean of their insubordinate presence before even arriving.
“That would only embolden them, and as I’ve said before, it’s poor form to arrest people who’ve committed no crimes. In the elvish realm, you are free to have contrary opinions, lucky for you, Cedrych.”
I appreciated his attempt at humor, but the presence of the Keepers put me on edge. “What do they want?” I asked.
Vasil said with a long-suffering sigh, “At best, my removal from lordship and a replacement with one of their own. At worst, my death.” His admission chilled me to the bone and I was struck silent as Vasil continued, “Remember to stay close and follow all of Commander Farrow’s instructions.”
“Yes, my lord,” I said with a renewed commitment.
“You know what will happen if you disobey me,” he warned.
“The welts on my ass have only just healed,” I said with some remorse. It wasn’t that I’denjoyedthe punishment, but his attentive care afterward had been absolutely lovely.
“And I won’t hesitate to stripe your ass again,” he said sternly.
“I will follow your protocol to the letter,” I promised.
He smiled warmly and took my hand. “Then come with me, Your Highness. An adventure awaits us.”
A seaof vibrant banners fluttered in the breeze, creating a colorful spectacle against the backdrop of the ancient forest surrounding the tournament grounds. Despite the overcast sky, the mood was merry in the sprawling meadow where Lord Vasil’s Tournament of Champions was being held.
Tents had been erected along the perimeter of the field where vendors touted their wares–weapons, jewelry, tunics, home appliances, healing crystals and enchanted elixirs. There were dream weavers interpreting dreams and fortune tellers reading palms and kitchen sorcerers praising their various shampoos and creams for those wishing to have long, luscious hair andunblemished skin. There were demonstrations too, of the latest elvish innovations, including a small metal bird that could fly and a machine built like a large beetle that could thresh wheat.
Vasil’s royal guard kept the throngs of people at bay, but we did stop for a spell to observe the master bladesmith I’d met while on a tour of the forge. Levolor had set up a demonstration booth, complete with an anvil and hearth and was hammering away at his latest creation.
“What is he making?” I asked Lord Vasil as we watched the steel transform into a beautiful blade with an elegant curve.
“That’s an Awelon blade,” Vasil said, “forged to mimic the native Awelon Falcons who roost in the Cysgodion Cliffs. You see how the blade is slightly curved? It resembles the wing of a falcon in flight. As a lad, I kept a gorgeous snow-white Awelon named Vapor, a loyal and lethal hunter.”
“Don’t tell me you have falconers in your army as well?” I said.
He grinned and said not a word while the shopkeeper added, “The Awelon blade combines the grace of its namesake with masterful, elvish craftsmanship and is the perfect complement to your sword hand, Your Highness.” The shopkeeper bowed slightly, nodding with deference toward Lord Vasil. “Levolor will be smithing all day if you’d like to come back later to see the finished product?”
“I’d love to,” I said.
Vasil thanked the man politely, prompting the shopkeeper to beam. Vasil’s praise did have that effect. We moved on soon after to the food vendors where the lord treated me to fresh fruit tarts–still warm from the oven–and meringue kisses, while he ate a curry kebab. We each drank a citrusy elderflower elixir garnished with mint. All of it had to be sampled by the royal taster, another first for me, but the precaution was understandable. Vasil also purchased a bottle of local honeyfor me to sample, which the vendor touted as the sweetest in all the land. It was certainly the most expensive, something I commented on when we were out of earshot.
“The price of honey is higher here,” Vasil explained, “for our meadowlands are not as plentiful.”
“It must be a costly endeavor to feed and house a fae prince,” I surmised with good humor.
“And exceedingly worth it,” he said and took my hand.
Amidst the revelry were games of agility and strength alongside sparring demonstrations, axe-throwing, and equestrian events with both horses and riders decked out in leather, some representing the royal guard in their recognizable elvish blue. I admired the beautiful beasts from afar while Lord Vasil said, “In elvish culture, the horse chooses the rider, which is always a cause for celebration. It’s followed by a bonding ceremony where the rider names their horse. They then take full responsibility for the horse’s shelter and care. Some riders even move into the stable or build an attached dwelling to accommodate them both, as the two are bonded for life. And if the horse and rider are parted through some misfortune, each will go through a period of mourning.”
The more I learned of the elvish, the more enchanted with their culture I became. “That is a beautiful custom, my lord. Something I admire about your people, is their commitment to excellence, whether it is perfecting a trade or training an animal or simply making a delicious fruit tart. Everything in your realm is done exceptionally and with pride.”
