Iron Elf - A Race Reborn (Book 2) (15 page)

“The elves have no stomach for prolonged warfare,” Bedvir said. “A few decisive battles and they shall roll onto their backs and present their bellies.”

I almost stood up, but Vitus brought a hoof down on my toes. I managed to keep a straight face. “The elves fought the dragons to a standstill. They drove the dwarves underground. I’d say they have the stomach for centuries of warfare.”

“Ancient history,” Medroth said. “They are long past the days of empire. We, on the other hand, are nearly at our peak. Let us take what we need from these decadent fey and ensure a future for our children.”

“Oh dear.” Tamril laughed. “Aren’t we too serious? And you’re all repeating the same old arguments. Can someone offer any new points? Ladies?”

“My sisters and I will do what we’ve always done,” Morgawse said. “We will go onto the field once the fighting is over. We shall gather the honoured dead and bring the home.”

“It’s, like, our eternal calling,” Sophia said.

“What interests me is the chance to develop new potions.” Stennik’s dirty blonde hair made a scruffy halo. “I have often wondered at the properties of elven blood.”

“Please let me know before you begin,” Grahothy said. “I shall be sure to stay well away from your experiments.”

They laughed. Capran magic was unpredictable and I’d never heard of them using it in combat. Apparently they specialized in potion-making. Instead of risking everyone’s lives on the battlefield, a capran alchemist risked only his own. I’d toured an alchemist’s workshop on my last visit. It had three strong walls and a lightweight roof, to minimize the danger from the inevitable explosions.

Tamril told them something and they laughed again. Their horns glittered in the gaslight. Even at arm’s length they smelled faintly of goats. I drank deeply and choked down the urge to rush straight home.

The dinner was a success, or as much as such an occasion could be. I didn’t back out of the fight, and neither did Hafgan, but at least we survived a meal. Nobody died over brandy and cigars. Soon enough Tamril and I saw our guests out the door.

“Till next we meet, o king,” said Nivian.

“Great party!” Sophia said. “We should do this again!”

Medroth grasped my arm with both hands and shook it. “You’re a man of principle and I admire that. I’m sorry it has to be this way. I would not have nominated my own son as champion if I didn’t think it was important.”

His gigantic son nodded at me. “It’s nothing personal. But I’m going to kill you.”

And they left.

“Heh,” I said. “That went well.”

Vitus walked up. “I’ll see you in the morning, elf. We start your training early.”

“Unless you can teach me to be seven feet tall, I don’t see how it’ll do any good.”

He fixed me with a look. “Quitting so soon, boy? You don’t even know how the duel’s set up.”

“No magic, right? And at some point it involves swords? Then I’m dead.”

“Yoo-hoo!” Tamril said from the Great Hall. “Where are you, my royal lover? Come on up, I’ll tell your fortune!”

I already knew what she saw in my future. “On the other hand, it is a good way to avoid her. See you tomorrow.”

Faced with certain death and given access to a liquor cabinet, I did what any man would do. It was a bad way to use Arawn’s personal store, but what was I to do, sneak into the kitchen for cooking sherry?

Actually, yes. Drunk as I was, I was still enough of a Corinthan to appreciate that Arawn had excellent taste. He had wines that were like flowers in the mouth, wines that were like the summer sun. There was something that could only be mourning wine. It was bitter and earthy—like drinking graveyard dirt. A nice wine for when you’re crying into your drink. There were quite a few bottles of it, which made me wonder. I decided to seek a less melancholy vintage down in the kitchens.

I found Nanette. She was dressed to travel and giving last-minute instructions to the kitchen staff. “Goodness, milord, why didn’t you ring? Would like some warm milk? Maybe a sandwich?”

“I didn’t want to trouble anyone.” I began opening cabinets. “Just looking for a nightcap.”

“We’re done here,” she told the others. “Off with you—I’ll take care of His Majesty.”

She sat me at the breakfast bar and gave me a glass of sherry and a glass of water. “At least try to minimize the hangover.”

“Thanks.” I dipped a finger in each. I had no idea how Arawn treated this woman, so I hoped my tipsiness would hide anything said out of character. “I’m not keeping you from anything, am I?”

“I was about to join the other staff and my husband, but the carriage can wait. You look like you need someone to talk to.”

“Maybe. How’s your husband, by the way?”

“I hope he’s getting a good rest. But knowing him, he’s probably worn a rut in the ground waiting for me. He worries about everything, you see.”

“You’ll have to remind me what he does for a living.”

She laughed. “He calls himself a trader. He’s fair though, and only makes a little profit. We do quite well, but I wish it wouldn’t stress him so much. The last time he took a vacation it was our honeymoon!”

“Sounds like a real workaholic.” I took a sip of water. “A man’s job can seem like his entire reason for being.”

“You must know all about that. I don’t suppose a king can stop being one, can he?”

“Not if he’s good at his job. If there’s no one else, he can hardly step down, can he? He has to be a king even if it kills him.”

She looked straight at me. “You could always let them invade, Your Majesty. What did the elves ever do for you?”

“I wish I knew.” I drained both my glasses. She refilled them and I continued. I said, “It’s the right thing to do, of course. Elves may not be the most loveable of people, but nobody deserves to have their homes taken away.”

“But you’re afraid you won’t survive the duel.”

I took another drink. This was good cooking sherry. “I’ll probably get killed and they’ll invade anyway. But not for a year. I have that much time left to me.” I was reaching the stage where I couldn’t believe I was drunk.

“I’m surprised you aren’t making the most of it with your young queen.” Her eyes crinkled in amusement. “She’s almost as beautiful as I was when I was young.”

“You’re still beautiful. Why, were you not a married woman—”

“Oh, stop!” She giggled. “You are a charmer, Highness, but you I reserve all my love for my husband. And on that note, it’s time to go.”

I stood up as well.

Grahothy was waiting with the carriage. “Your escort is ready, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Sir Grahothy. I hope I haven’t kept them waiting.” She turned to me. “Your Majesty, I doubt things are as hopeless as you think. And even if they were, there’s a certain comfort in knowing the exact day of your death, isn’t it?”

She was easily younger than I was. How do halflings get so wise so quickly?

“Spare me such comforts,” I said. “I’d rather live with uncertainty.”

Grahothy and I watched her go. Her escort was nearly as large as mine had been. It was made up of many of the same soldiers. I watched her go, then returned to the kitchen.

I don’t recall going to bed. I vaguely remember trying to go into a detoxifying trance and realizing the disguise ring was blocking it. I must’ve taken it off in my rooms and fallen asleep with the spell running in my head. I know this because the ring was off my finger—and I wasn’t dead.

“Wake up, elf. Training starts today.”

“Uuurrgh.”

I felt dead. The trance had undone the worst of the alcohol poisoning but my hangover was what other hangovers wanted to be when they grew up.

“Gods, but you’re a mess. Didn’t I tell you to sleep early? Did you drink all those bottles on the table?”

“But Coach, it helps me relax.”

“We don’t have time for this. Put the ring on and join me for breakfast.”

“Can I take care of this hangover first?” I started digging in my head for hangover spells.

“We don’t have time for that, either.” He reached into a pouch for a phial. “Drink this, it’ll get you on your feet.”

I drank the potion and almost hit the ceiling. It was a four-poster bed so I only slammed into the overhead canopy and fell back to bed. “Ow.”

“Spontaneous levitation. That’s new.”

“My heart’s pounding, my teeth are chattering, and my skin’s too tight. But the hangover’s gone.”

“That’s normal. I’ll trust you not to binge again.”