"'Tis a boy! He looks exactly like you, Ram, except for Elora's turquoise eyes and somewhat strange hair." She looked like she was going to tear up. "He's so beautiful. I can no' wait for you to see him."
The lines on Ram's forehead smoothed away. "You're talkin' about the baby."
Aelsong nodded enthusiastically.
Ram looked adoringly at Elora. "Our baby."
Elora sucked in a breath and jerked her gaze away from Ram. "Song. I’m begging you. Please tell me he has Ram’s ears. I mean, ears like Ram's and yours.”
"And why would he no'? Cosmetic surgery has no' affect on genetics."
Elora froze and stopped breathing. She'd just bungled the cover story. This business of hiding everything about themselves and their real lives was harder than it sounded. Then she noticed the gleam in Aelsong's eye. She knows and is teasing me.
Aelsong's laugh is like the sound windchimes would make if they were vocal chords proving that she was well-named indeed. “Aye. Indeed his wee ears are comely elfin. And his name is….”
“No!" Ram held out his hand like a traffic cop, as if he could stop words in mid air. "Do no' tell us!"
Kay with his ever-steady wisdom and calm demeanor, so necessary for keeping his berserker side in check, was good with solutions. "Look, my friends, the point is this. If Aelsong sees the baby in your future, then the argument is moot. Right?"
Ram seemed to be considering. "Song, did you also see Elora?"
"Aye, and..." She stopped.
"...and what, Song?"
"I do no' want to say too much. Much of the fun of livin' is in the mystery, findin' out what's to be."
"Mouths of babes and all that, Song."
Elora cocked her head to the side and looked at Ram. "What does that mean?"
"'Tis from very old writings, the beginnin' of a sayin' about young speakin' wisdom beyond their years."
"Oh. Well. Why is that part of this discussion?"
"My meanin' is that she must finish what she started because I'll no' abide her hidin' behind adages and the like."
Elora looked at Song. "I agree. Spit it out." Before Aelsong could say anything, Elora sucked in a gasp. "You did see Ram in this vision as well?"
"Aye. You two be at ease. I see the both of you, the sweet babe who is so pretty he could near break your heart with just one of his twinklin' smiles... And somethin' else."
Ram and Elora both spoke at once. "What?"
"He is sittin' in the green grass while black puppies crawl all over him waggin' their little tails and nippin' at his tiny fingers and toes. I can see him laughin' so hard in his adorable baby way that he is gettin' hiccups and his skin is turnin' pinkish."
Ram and Elora exchanged a smile that said they needed the room cleared in a hurry as it was needed for overdue make-up sex.
Kay turned toward the door. "Well, seems my work here is done..."
On the way out, he said to Aelsong. "You know those croissants you were having? Where did you get those? Did they have some deer sausage and gravy to go with that?" As he pulled the door closed, they could hear him tell Aelsong. "My sisters are coming in later with my fiancée, Katrina. You'll like her. Everybody does."
An hour later Ram and Elora had showered, dressed, and were about to go down for breakfast.
"...and they've got us dressing up in these ridiculous sixteenth century costumes. I mean, what is it with royal families and period costumes?"
Ram laughed. "Do no' know. Maybe 'tis a heyday thing." Instead of opening the door he gently pushed her back into it with the front of his body and said in a voice that implied intimacy, "Do you mind? We could just run away to the New Forest cottage and spend a week fuckin' like minks." He nuzzled her ear and then talked into the most sensitive part of her neck. "'T'would be fine by me."
Elora's laugh got caught low in her throat as she felt her body respond to the feel of her mate pressing against her, which was amazing considering that she was so recently and so thoroughly loved and satisfied. On the floor. In the bed. In the shower. All before breakfast which meant that she was hungry. Really hungry. Eating for two and all that.
"There's a part of me that would very much like to take you up on that offer, my darling. All this is way too close to my own upbringing for comfort. But I can't take this away from your mother and your sister. You should see their excitement and dedication. It's become their raison d'être - a modest little affair for fifteen hundred people. How do you think they're going to come up with that many costumes? It's impossible, isn't it?"
Ram chuffed lightly at that one spot in her ear that always made her knees threaten to buckle. "If we're to be doin' this then let's have some fun with it. I very much plan to enjoy showin' you off to fifteen hundred of my mother's closest friends."
She laughed. "If only jokes would sustain me, I would never leave this room. But, alas, I need food as well."
"Did you actually say 'alas'?"
"See? The period costumes screw with your head. Now, feed me or get out of the way so I can find a man who will."
He pulled back and looked at her through half hooded, half smiling eyes. He lowered his voice to the tone he used for raspy pillow talk. "That's no' gonna happen."
Fond memories of the last time he said that to her triggered a rush of images that made her tummy flutter. He gently pulled her away from the door so that it could be opened. In unapologetic contradiction, after just saying no she brushed past him suggestively and had to claim one more sweet, lingering kiss before heading downstairs.
Elora had only met Ram's family a few days before. They had come up with a cover story as to why her ears were different. Supposedly a childhood accident with a bicycle had left one ear irreparably nipped so her parents had decided the best cosmetic result would be to round both ears to match. It was a good story that she had almost blown by babbling about her acute desire that the baby have ears like his da.
Ram had said it was impossible to hide much from someone as psychic as Song, but that she was better at keeping secrets than anyone he knew. "She does no' tell other people's news or thoughts or secrets." There was no mistaking the pride with which he bragged about her.
His parents had turned the kingship over to Aelsblood for reasons that were unclear to her. Ram's older brother was nothing like him, but was very much like his father in looks and temperament. Both had light brown hair, grim, serious personalities and were buttoned up, tightened down, zip locked for better or worse. Judging by her first impressions, Elora was not the least surprised that the king was unmarried. Fate couldn't be so cruel as to mate some poor girl with a man who seemed so cold and distant. Except that, apparently it had happened to Ram's mother, Tepring.
Ram's mother and younger sister both looked and acted like Ram: emotionally effusive, bright as sunshine on snow, lively as a kickin' dance of the reel. Fortune had blessed the three of them with beauty, charm, magnetism, optimism, and golden auras that were just barely out of the range of human visual acuity, but sensed nonetheless.
When they had arrived, Ram's mother burst into tears on seeing the scar on his face for the first time and was inconsolable for two hours. His father, Ethelred, took one look at him and said, "An' how'd the other fella fare?"
Ram cocked his head for a second and then laughed never taking his eyes away from his father. "Come to think of it, the other fella got away with no' so much as a scratch."
Elora watched her father-in-law-to-be draw his mouth into a judgmental purse of the lips. She started to rise up in Ram's defense, but he grabbed her around the waist and drew her into an embrace so snug that she almost lost her breath while his smile never wavered. She got the message. Families do no' know what we do. But - oh, how she wanted to say - "I'll have you know that a few days from now my elf will be the first knight in the whole of this century to be inducted into The Order's Hall of Heroes."
Aelsong's response to this exchange was to laugh and ask Ram if she could have the "other fella's" phone numbe
r. Elora stared at Song. Great Paddy! She's Rammel in female form.
Ignoring his daughter altogether, Ethelred continued to pin Ram with an unflinching stare, accusation all over his face. "An' how is it this happened again?"
"Knife fight in a bar," Ram answered without hesitation and with the same unflinching stare. The thought fluttered across Elora's awareness that Ram might actually be enjoying this exchange on some level. He seemed to like pissing his dad off, at least he wasn't shying away from it.
Not a muscle moved in Ethelred's face and yet a palpable wave of condemnation penetrated the space between Ram and his father. Ethelred was firm in his position of censure. Ram was just as firm in his position, which had all the signs of a third finger salute.
Elora was aware that Aelsblood was watching the warring emotions cross her face. Her peripheral vision was very good and there was no question he'd been assessing, and perhaps evaluating, too.
Of course, in his position he must be practiced at interpreting communication in all its complex and nuanced forms, not just words and, in a flash of intuition, she somehow knew that he knew. Her eyes swiveled to meet his and found a smile there. It did not touch any other part of his face, which is a trick in itself. But, for a fraction of a second, she thought she might have seen admiration in Aelsblood's expression. For what? Wanting to defend Ram? To have the truth be told about who and what he is?
Looking at Aelsblood she tried to project a telepathic question. She asked if this was typical behavior between the two of them. He responded with a nod so slight she could barely discern it, then turned, and left the room without another word.
It was surprising to learn that Irish surnames were passed by matrilinear descent and that Hawking was Ram's mother's name. As soon as they were alone in the suite of rooms that had been Ram's as a boy, Elora had to ask. "So, will you be changing your name to Rammel Laiken?"
"If you wish," he said walking toward the bath without missing a beat.
When she didn't respond, he stopped and looked over to find her staring at the floor and frowning.
"What just happened?" he asked.
She looked up. "I love your name. And I'm not just saying that. I really do. It's kind of fai..., uh, elf-tale-like. It brings up images of falconry or shape shifting."
Ram laughed as he walked over and put his arms around her. "You do have a very fine imagination, my girl."
"The thing is... I love my name, too. I mean... it's mine. Maybe we can keep our own names?"
"Elora, this does no' even show up on my list of priorities. You can call me dickhead so long as I get to be the one who sleeps with my leg thrown over your beautiful body at night."
She smiled and kissed little circles around his throat. "I like the way you think."
"Ha! Since when?"
Elora's time at Derry had felt like a whirlwind of activity. Aelsong and Tepring tried to involve Elora in the event planning, but, with the exception of preference of flowers, she had finally just turned it over to them. Even so, she still had to be available for fittings, for learning how to say the vows in Gaelic and learning how to dance a reel. Rammel had given her a tour of the palace, which took most of the day. Every turn seemed to inspire another story about him being in trouble for this or that as a child.
Finally overwhelmed by tales of a parent's nightmare, she sat down on a step of a little-used, side staircase and began absently stroking her flat stomach with her fingertips. "Okay. You're scaring me now. Just what am I in for here?"
Ram frowned. "Are you tired?"
"Of course not."
Ram gracefully lowered himself to the step next to her and snuggled close, smiling as he put his arm around her. "The babe has two parents who are Black Swan knights. If he was no' a little firecracker, somethin' might be off."
Elora laid her head on his shoulder, turned her face into his shirt, and groaned. He chuckled softly.
"Even if he turned out to be exactly like me, I believe I would handle it better than did my own da. We will sure no' have him livin' on his own like a half feral. You and I, we're goin' to keep him close and smother him with hugs and kisses everyday whether he wants 'em or no'. He's goin' to know we want him.
"As for us, my feelin' is that, if we can survive vampire, we can survive strong willed offsprin' and find a way to have fun doin' it." He had a way of rearranging perspective so that things never sounded half bad.
"I love you, Ram."
"You know, if you did no' weigh near three hundred pounds, I'd be scoopin' you up and takin' you to bed for naps."
She laughed and raised her head to look at him. "Wonder how much the baby's going to weigh. You think you're going to be able to pick him up?"
"Very funny."
He stood. She raised her hand. "Help me up?"
Ram cupped his hands and yelled down the hallway. "We need a winch and pulley in the mud galley stairwell!"
She slapped at his leg, holding her stomach and laughing so hard no sound could come out.
The day promised to be busy for guest arrivals. Kay had come in the night before. He'd caught a commercial flight from Houston and said he was amazed that even first class on commercial airlines was crowded, uncomfortable, and generally barbaric.
Baka was expected from Edinburgh mid morning, Storm in mid afternoon, and Kay's entourage - composed of sisters and fiancé - would be arriving late in the afternoon.
The breakfast room at the palace in Derry, the seat of the Irish monarchy, was a long rectangle with twenty-five-foot ceilings, original wood floors and a wall of tapestries that were almost as old as elfdom. The other side of the room was a wall of windows ten feet high that looked out on gardens built in terraces above idyllic sheep pastures beyond. Spring flowers had begun to show themselves and Elora could see that the display would be dazzling in another month.
Residents and guests had come and gone from breakfast, but Ram and Elora were lingering with Tepring until late morning. The three occupied one end of a dining table that would accommodate fifty, yet, somehow Ram's mother made it seem like an intimate family conversation. One of the staff brought Elora a small silver pot of hot chocolate and set it in front of her with a smile, which Elora returned with thanks and an expression of delight.
"Is the cord ready?" Tepring asked Ram including Elora in the question with a glance her way.
Ram blinked.
"The cord?" Tepring was beginning to look concerned. "Rammel?"
"Um. I did no' think about it. I've no' done this before you know."
Tepring made a regal huff and turned to Elora. "We must have a cord for the handfastin'. Traditionally the bride and groom choose the materials and braid it themselves. 'Tis customary to keep it somewhere prominent in the couples' bedchamber, as a symbol of the way you felt on your weddin' day. 'Tis a gift to yourselves really because there may be days when the physical, visible reminder may help you get through times that are no' so fun. There's still plenty of time, but you should attend to it sooner rather than later."
Elora nodded. It wasn't one of her traditions, but she liked the sound of it and it certainly couldn't hurt. "How long should it be?"
"Split the difference between your heights."
She looked at Ram absently while she mentally pictured how much that would be. "Okay. Any suggestions about materials?"
Tepring looked out at the gardens for a few seconds. A wistful smile took over her expression. Elora thought her mother-in-law could not possibly be remembering her own wedding to that walking coat rack with any fondness. Tepring suddenly jerked her focus back to the meeting in progress as if she had heard Elora's thoughts.
"I've noticed you like to wear clothes made from pure natural fibers like silk, linen, wool, and cotton." She leaned toward Elora and lowered her voice. "No' a thing wrong with a few wrinkles here and there."
Elora assumed she was still talking about clothing and smiled. "You're very observant."
Tepring returned her smile. "No' really. I may
be overly fond of clothing."
Her eyes slid to Ram. She gave the Black Sabbath tee shirt and faded, threadbare, 501's with a tear in the knee a pointed once over. Elora snickered at the implied put down. Ram just smiled, shook his head, crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair as if to say, "No' a thing new."
His mother sighed. "No danger that anyone will accuse you of that, Rammel. Anyway, you could start with thick embroidery threads. Or it would go quicker if you used yarn. As you're braidin' you can weave mementos from your courtship or symbols of what you love into the braid. You both like to ride so you could add some horsehair. Elora, the flowers you chose will begin arrivin' later today. If you weave a few into the cord, they will dry prettily."
Ram looked at Elora. "You chose the flowers? Stargazer lilies, red roses, and no baby's breath."
Ram's mother laughed and clapped her hands. "That's right! Rammel, you turned out to be romantic!"
Ram gaped at his mum. "And since when have elves been concernin' ourselves with romance? I thought 'twas a human thing."
Tepring looked at Elora and rolled her eyes and that was all that needed to be said.
After asking Tepring where to find yarn, Ram and Elora went on quest for cord materials and some quiet time to combine braiding with enjoying each other's company, but, as they were starting up the wide staircase leading to their wing they ran into Baka, just arriving and being shown upstairs.
Elora rushed to give him a hug which he returned far too enthusiastically to suit Ram.
Istvan Baka lived his life as a human for thirty years then lived life as a vampire for six hundred years. As a result of the brand new cure for the vampire virus, developed from the antibodies in Elora's blood that had been hard won at her expense, Baka had very recently resumed life as a human. Because of his long time ties to The Order and his unique circumstances, he had been hired to create and head up a special task force to bring about the great vampire inversion. As part of that assignment, he had been transferred to headquarters in Edinburgh where he was to reside semi-permanently.
The Witch's Dream - A Paranormal Romance (The Order of the Black Swan, BOOK TWO) Page 3
