It must be admitted that I was still hungry when I sulked off to my rooms. I just wanted Father to know that I wasn’t going to take this marriage business lying down.
“Go to the kitchen,” I told my maid, “and bring me dessert.”
“Your father will scold me…”
“You are my servant, not his!”
She rushed off. I barely noticed, not even when she came back. I was in the fog of despair, poking my fork through the icing of my ample slice of cake.
I suppose what made it particularly awful is that deep down, I knew Father was right. Unmarried women were not usually permitted to age gracefully, despite their best efforts. There was nothing wrong with Lady Pelmore. She was a kind woman and a good conversationalist, but she was not a sparkling wit and her hair had turned a wiry silver. She had committed the even graver sin of growing fat. I glanced guiltily at my cake and saw my own fate on the horizon. (But then I kept eating it. It was too delicious to ignore.)
Still, I circled back around to the original problem. My writing. I couldn’t imagine Prince Adam would understand it, or King Damian would approve of it. They would probably say that it was too much of a risk to my reputation to continue publishing my works. The very best case scenario was that I would be allowed to pen proper things, like poems about flowers or sugar-sweet stories about ladies who were always good and religious.
I would rather have my bowels purged.
And besides, no man could live up to the conjurings of my mind. How dare that Mr. Elmwood… And how did he find out where to send the letter in the first place?
I picked up my quill again.
Dear Mr. Elmwood,
You claim that high elves have such prowess with the ladies? It seems to me that this is just as much of a stereotype as my villain. I wonder if a high elf has ever stolen a lady from you. That would explain your assessment. As for your criticism of the name Lord Stormwild, well, I suppose you have never picked up a history book to read of Lord Wolfsbane, who led the armies at Roth, with no less ‘ridiculous’ a name. It is common in the old heroic epics to give very evocative names to the characters and so I was just following in the grand tradition. But perhaps you don’t have access to so grand a library as I do. I shall chalk it up to ignorance.
Speaking of Lord Wolfsbane, if high elves are not inclined to bloodshed, then how do you explain their military victories? Lord Stormwild is not meant to represent all of elven-kind. He is an individual. If you go back to the section where he tells Lady Celeste his past, you will note that he was not raised by elves, but by pirates, from the age of eleven onward (following his parents’ tragic death) which I think explains his tendencies.
As for the river Ayl—
I paused. He had me there. But I certainly wasn’t about to admit I was wrong.
I will have to look it up. I thought that the river and the mountains came close in certain regions. Perhaps my atlas is inaccurate. Although I think you are putting too much effort into picking at the details of a story which has obviously pleased so many readers, including yourself.
I signed the letter with a flourish and sealed it, to give to Irvin tomorrow. Then I thought I should work a bit on my next tale. This one was about a brooding elven landowner with a grand house on the rocky cliffs of Bondino, who was periodically possessed by a demonic spirit. I had been struggling with it somewhat, because my last book was set on rocky cliffs and involved a ghost.
I read over what I had so far. The heroine was traveling through several southern towns, and crossing a mountain range.
Suppressing a frown, I thought I should probably get out a map of Bondino before I went any further.
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About the Author
Lidiya Foxglove has always loved a good fairy tale, whether it’s sweet or steamy, and she likes to throw in a little of both. Sometimes she thinks she ought to do something other than reading and writing, but that would require doing more laundry. So…never mind.
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Rapunzel and the Dark Prince Page 14
