Kings or Pawns (Steps of Power 1)

by Sherwood, J. J.

  Saebellus grimaced slightly. He looked back down at the parchment, taking a deliberately long time to read it just to watch his captain squirm; his slender feet were now tapping as well, his lean frame shifting from side to side. It would do the male some good to learn patient discipline.

  Finally Saebellus looked up, folding the letter and setting it slowly aside. He took a long moment to draw his black hair behind an ear and make his tall form comfortable in the high-backed chair.

  Vale waited expectantly.

  “I almost pray to the gods that the council recalls Jikun just so Adonis can return and you can cease your incessant whining. But I already have plans for Jikun.” Saebellus heaved a long sigh. He leaned forward abruptly, jerking the knife out of Vale’s hands, and slammed the blade into the table. His expression grew more serious, his tone darker. A deathly silence had descended over the room and the shadows along the wall flared and twisted in a mad cackle of delight. “But you asked for a job, Vale. I will give you something to do.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Alvena stifled her giggles as she worked, twisting one strand of golden hair around another. She quickly fixed herself with a stoically serious expression as Hairem lifted the mirror to view her progress. She saw his brows knit skeptically.

  “Are you sure you know what you are doing? I’m not sure about thi—” he began.

  Alvena reached out a hand and pushed the mirror aside. ‘I’m not done yet!’ she wanted to reprimand him. She stifled another giggle. No, certainly not done. She felt a little guilty as she worked. But just a little. He was only going to see Ilsevel today, after all.

  Hairem settled the mirror back onto his lap, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. “Have you been following the politics as of late?” he questioned, turning his head slightly to see her nod. She waited for his head to go back to looking straight ahead. “I just met the latest council member. Lord Valdor, his name is. He arrived in the city yesterday.”

  ‘And what is he like?’ she would have politely asked if she could. But she was glad that she did not have to follow such conduct. There were benefits, at times, to being a mute.

  “He was exactly as I hoped,” Hairem continued, as though reading her mind. “A military mind and civil genius. I believe he will contribute greatly to the council. They’ve been practically unbearable since I ‘disobeyed’ their wishes about their male of choice.” He scoffed, “Of course, that’s assuming they were bearable before.” He laughed to himself, charmingly amused by his own wit.

  Alvena shook her head with a smile. It was cute how he carried on to himself sometimes. She added another strand to the work. Well, this was certainly coming along nicely.

  “In fact,” Hairem sustained, “Lord Valdor’s first political discussion with me was about General Jikun. You know about the plague, right?”

  Alvena nodded. Then gave his hair a little tug, remembering he could not see her. Of course she knew about the plague! The servants told horror stories about soldiers’ eyes melting out of their skulls and males eating their own flesh in their madness: as though there wasn’t another thing in all the world more interesting than that. She shivered, wondering if those rumors were true.

  “Well, the council has refused to recall the general, despite the situation,” Hairem continued. “Lord Valdor was trained in the same academy as Saebellus—long before the war with the sirens,” he inserted. “He became a Droth Guard, but was honorably discharged after receiving the injury that partially blinded him. He has some interesting insights on the warlord from his time at the academy, but I’ll get to that later.” He paused, as though having forgotten his line of thought. “Right,” he started up again. “The council refuses to recall the general. Well, that’s the next thing to be done. I heard even his captain has fallen. I should have taken steps earlier, but I kept trying to work with them. The council, I mean.”

  Alvena hesitated in her braiding, regarding him a bit fearfully. Return the plague-ridden army to the city? Her eyes widened. That was… madness!

  “What is it?”

  Alvena focused back on the king. He had raised the mirror and turned it to see her expression. She could see the concern in his eyes through the glass and she shamefully looked back to the braid.

  What was Hairem supposed to do? Leave General Taemrin and his army to die?

  “I know what you are thinking,” Hairem spoke softly after a moment, lowering the mirror. “The army will be quarantined outside the city. We have to get them out of the swamp to fresh food, water, and care.”

  Alvena nodded. Of course. She did not envy him. The decision to recall them could not have been easy, and she did not blame the council for their disagreement on the matter. Or Hairem for choosing to do something other than abandon them in the swamp. She found herself smiling slightly. Even though she feared the plague the army might bring to the city, such compassion was admirable. Or perhaps she was a little biased—it was Hairem, after all.

  “On to lighter matters,” Hairem interrupted her thoughts. “I was talking about Lord Valdor.” He paused. “Right, I was about to tell you about Saebellus as Lord Valdor knew him. Really quite intriguing—”

  There was a knock on the door of the room and Lardol’s voice followed in quick succession.

  “My Lord, Lady Ilsevel has come to see you. She is down in the Great Hall.”

  Hairem straightened, almost pulling his hair loose from Alvena. “Here? I will be down shortly.”

  “I will inform her, My Lord.” His footsteps faded down the hallway.

  Alvena pursed her lips. And here she had been having a fine time with the king. The least Ilsevel could do was wait for him to come see her. She hurried through the rest of the braid and tied it at the end.

  “Thank you, Alvena,” Hairem said, standing and setting the mirror aside.

  She frowned as he strode to the door. Was he so wrapped up in his thoughts about Ilsevel that he had not even bothered to check her work? Alvena snickered. Then stopped. Well, wasn’t she getting spiteful? ‘Shame on me!’ she reached out to catch his arm, but the king was already halfway to the door. She hadn’t actually meant for him to go out looking like that!

  But too late. The king had reached the door, turned, and vanished out of sight.

  Alvena dashed after him as he hurried down the stairs. Well, wasn’t he in a rush to see her! It would almost serve him right to show up looking like that if he was in such a hurry! ‘I mean, it is not like she is going anywh—’

  “ALVENA,” Lardol bellowed behind her.

  She drew to an abrupt stop, flinching.

  “By Sel’ari, where do you think you are off to? The king’s room needs to be cleaned, and it will not be tidying itself. Get back upstairs and do your work.”

  Alvena turned around and shot him a dirty look. She knew that, obviously!

  “And do not give me that look!”

  Alvena pivoted sharply and headed back up the stairs, watching Lardol vanish back down the hallway. What did he do? Wait all day just for that moment to catch her out of place? By the gods, that old elf was everywhere! She slid her hand along the banister. ‘I wonder what Ilsevel and Hairem are doing…’ She gave the hallway one reproachful look as though it was going to warn Lardol, and turned back around.

  She reached the entryway into the Great Hall just as Hairem and Ilsevel had finished their greetings. Ilsevel looked a little flustered, her dainty hands wrapped around Hairem’s strong arm. “Yes, I would love to see the courtyard.”

  Alvena leaned back against the wall, watching the two of them walk toward the grand doors leading outside. Once they had stepped outside, she scurried across the room and crouched down before the doors. She could only see the purple of Ilsevel’s skirts through the crack.

  ‘Move over! I can’t see a thing!’

  “Oh, My Lord, it is… beautiful!” Ilsevel gasped. “Why, I have never seen a garden as lovely! And so vast!”

  “This, too, would be yours.”

>   There was silence for a moment and Alvena’s stomach knotted.

  “Ilsevel, I spoke to your father last night.”

  They had moved far enough from the door now that Alvena could distinguish the back of the king. And his sloppy braid. He turned enough toward Ilsevel that Alvena could see his deep smile.

  “As you know, your father and I do not often agree. But there is something that we share a similar love for… and that is you, my dear Ilsevel…”

  Alvena could see Ilsevel’s smile broaden as she looked up at the king with sickening adoration.

  “I think about you every moment we are not together, and I miss you every minute that passes. Politically, there could be no better match than the daughter of the El’adorium and the king. But if it was only for politics, I would not have given you a second glance. It is not politics that drives my affections, but only complete and ardent love for you.

  “Ilsevel, I love you with all that Sel’ari has given me and ask you with all my heart—” Alvena’s eyes widened as Hairem went down to a knee before her. “To be my queen, my wife, and the mother of my heir. Would you grant me these greatest of honors?”

  Had… Hairem just… Alvena’s hand pressed against the door. Hairem had told her Ilsevel was the one… but to see it happen was so…

  It was so final.

  She could see the elation in Ilsevel’s face, the excitement as she clasped the king’s hand.

  “My dearest king, I could never ask for more!”

  Alvena leaned away for a moment, feeling guilty for having witnessed such a private moment. Damn Lardol! He had encouraged the king to begin with—but she found no anger in her heart. Sad. Yes, she was sad. And yet, the king was happy. Not just happy… She had never seen Hairem so blissful.

  “The timing of this could not be more perfect,” she heard Ilsevel begin. Alvena leaned inward to spy through the crack. The lady was wrapped tightly in the king’s arms, nestled into his chest. “I was planning on traveling west in three days to visit an ill relative of mine. The news will surely bring her health! I will be gone only for a few weeks.”

  Alvena could see Hairem lean back slightly. “How will I survive without seeing you for a few weeks?! Sel’ari! I shall not live!”

  Ilsevel laughed, smacking him playfully on the chest. “Oh stop! I will be back soon. I have to visit her. They all expect it of me.”

  Hairem leaned down and kissed her deeply. “I shall miss you,” he began again in all seriousness.

  Alvena felt a bit relieved. At least she would have him to herself for a bit.

  Hm. That didn’t really cheer her up.

  “And I will miss you,” Ilsevel replied, giving him a gentle kiss on the chin. “Now… I must ask. Forgive me… but who did your hair? It’s…”

  Hairem reached a hand up and ran it down the braid. Alvena saw his brow knit in concern. “What? What is it?”

  Ilsevel chuckled, shaking her head quickly. “Oh, nothing. It’s lovely. Come, show me this garden.” She tugged him away from his hair and spun about into the scenery.

  Alvena giggled despite herself. Hairem was happy. And… maybe Ilsevel wasn’t so bad.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The dawn was brilliant that morning, golden rays radiating down from Emal’drathar as though the gods themselves had gathered to watch what was about to unfold.

  “Your Majesty!”

  Hairem glanced up from where he had stopped at the bottom of the steps to the council’s hall and raised a hand in acknowledgement to Nilanis’ greeting. He returned his attention to Erallus. “Wait here.”

  “Yes, My Lord,” Erallus acknowledged with a bow of his head. A few loose strands fell forward in disarray, coming free of his braid. “And have a pleasant day at the council,” he added with a wink.

  Hairem gave him a dismissive smack on the shoulder. “Go!” he barked with a smirk. As his bodyguard turned to stand guard outside of the council chambers, Hairem began his ascent up the steps. It was the sight of Nilanis still standing at the top that caused Hairem to shift his smirk into a broad smile—no doubt Ilsevel had told her father about the proposal. The mere thought of their wedding sent his heart pounding. Things had happened so fast… but he had never loved a female as he loved Ilsevel. Even the sight of the snake could not dampen his glorious mood. “Good morning, Lord Nilanis,” he spoke as he reached the top. “A very pleasant day, is it not?”

  Nilanis beamed back. “Most certainly, Your Majesty. I—”

  Hairem raised a hand. “You can refer to me as ‘My Lord’ now. After all, in a few months’ time, we shall be family.”

  Nilanis bowed his head, but Hairem could see the El’adorium’s smile broaden. He knew what the elf was thinking: nothing could add to the male’s power like his daughter gaining queenship. But Hairem did not care—Ilsevel would not fall under the manipulation of her father. She was so much stronger than that.

  “Ilsevel is thrilled to start planning the wedding when she returns from Elestri. I can only imagine this unusually timed meeting is to inform the council of this most exhilarating news?” Nilanis queried, following Hairem attentively as he turned for the council’s doors.

  Hairem chuckled once to himself. “Yes,” he replied shortly. And that wasn’t entirely untrue. He did plan to inform the council of his decision—but far more important for them to know was his decision to recall the general from the Sevilan Marshes. Now that would cause quite the uproar. “I imagine,” he began, weaving in a little manipulation in hopes that this meeting would go less sourly than those previous, “that you would like to tell the council? Who better to share the news than the speaker of the Sel’vi and Ilsevel’s father?”

  He broke away from Nilanis before he could possibly disagree and stepped up beside Lord Valdor, who was standing behind his seat in a stoically expressionless fashion: as though the entirety of the events would merely pass him by. Although a morally just male, he was a bit of a dreary fellow; Hairem had yet to see the elf smile. “Lord Valdor, may Sel’ari bless this morning.” Or perhaps he should have greeted him by Noctem? Unfortunately, to the other elves present, this would be rather blasphemous to invoke the blessing of one of Sel’ari’s greatest foes. No, and he did not need to upset them even further this day.

  Valdor nodded his head in solemn greeting. “Your Majesty,” he returned in short.

  Either way, Hairem doubted it would have made much of a difference to the Noc’olari. He surveyed the hall to pleasantly find that the council’s usual punctuality had sustained even this sudden meeting. They appeared quite irked to have been called away from their personal affairs, shifting irritably in their seats and drumming their slender fingers across their desks.

  But he didn’t need their agreement this time.

  Hairem stepped lightly to his own place, passing their grim and aggravated expressions with an unabashedly cheerful smile. It was difficult to be cynical when he was about to wed the most beautiful lady in the land. Even their scrutinizing scowls could hardly put a damper on his spirits. He waited a moment for Nilanis to reach his place before he sat.

  “My Lords,” Nilanis began, raising his hands to welcome the other council members to the meeting. “This meeting brings with it my greatest pride.”

  ‘Wait until I bring up what I have done with the general,’ Hairem thought with an inner grin.

  “As you all know, I am the proud father of the most beautiful and honorable lady, Ilsevel. It is with extreme elation that I inform this council that His Majesty and my daughter are to be wed.”

  The rest of the council looked to Hairem for a reaction, but he was already meeting their inquisitive gazes with a broad smile.

  “Your Majesty, there could not be a better match,” Mikanum spoke first, clapping his hands thrice with a nod toward the king.

  Cahsari twisted a strand of black hair and sneered softly in response. Hairem felt his smile waver. What reason did he have to sneer? Hairem regarded him with a brief scowl. What an arrogant
bastard, even at a moment such as this.

  “My family and I are overjoyed for you,” Heshellon interrupted his thoughts, gesturing to his heart in the Eph’ven sign of well-earned fortune.

  Hairem focused his attention away from the spiteful Helven and smiled once more. “Thank you, Lord Heshellon.”

  Nilanis gave Fildor, Valdor, and Ilrae a moment to pass their congratulations to the king before he continued, “I am certain His Majesty and my daughter will make the kingdom into an even safer and grander place for our future generations. I—”

  Hairem stood slowly and the speaker fell silent. “Oh, if there is more, please continue,” Hairem nodded his head.

  “No, please, speak, Your Majesty,” Nilanis urged.

  The king smiled. Why, Nilanis was just where he wanted him. He cast his gaze over the other council members, his smile oddly fixed, not giving them a chance to become defensive. “The wedding will take place after General Jikun and his army have recovered from their time in the swamp.”

  Nilanis’ brow knit. He looked back at the other council members as though to defend himself with visible confusion.

  “As I know how pressing the matter of my marriage and future heir is, I shall waste no time in ensuring this occurs as quickly as possible. As such, I have recalled the general and his army from the swamps of the centaurs. They will be isolated to the south until the plague passes. I have already spoken to the proper individuals earlier this morning to ensure their needs are met. I look forward to the coming wedding!” And without a moment’s pause, he stepped from his place and strode toward the doors.

  Heshellon hesitated. “Your Majesty, why—”

  Hairem raised a hand in cool, planned response. “It is Ilsevel and my deepest wish that those fighting for our throne may have the honor of attendance. The wedding will not go through without the return of the army.”

  “Your Majesty,” Ilrae started, getting to his feet. “We cannot allow a plague to get so close to the city!”