The music stopped. The talking stopped.
Aelsong said, "Great Paddy. The crap has hit the wind."
Ram looked at Song and Elora and said, "Stay here," forcefully enough to let both know he meant it. As she slid out of the booth right behind him to follow and cover his back, Elora wondered who in the world he thought he was talking to.
When Ram reached the middle of the room he was facing several perturbed-looking Fae, but he was also flanked by a recently cured vampire and three Black Swan knights, one of whom was a berserker and another of whom was his wife who could destroy the building if she had cause.
He said to the crowd in general. "We do no' want trouble. We are here on official business. If our presence makes you uncomfortable, we'll be leavin'."
One of the Fae staring down Ram smirked, raised his voice and said, "Hey, Duffy. The Fen is sayin' he's here on official business."
Aelsong's angel came through the crowd and stood in front of Ram. As she approached, she noticed he was as tall as her brother, which meant he was tall for a Fae. She stopped beside Ram in a show of solidarity.
The angel looked down at her. "You're with him, then?"
"For all eternity. He's my brother."
The prince's mouth turned up at the edges. Then he looked at Ram. "And what be the nature of your official business?"
"Again, we do no' want trouble and are willin' to leave, but why should we be tellin' you our business?"
One of the challengers pointed a thumb at Song's angel. "Are ye daft? You're talkin' to Prince Duff Torquil. You could be sayin' he's the last word on official."
Prince Torquil noticed that Ram showed no outward sign of being either intimidated or impressed.
Aelsong raised her chin and let her eyes wander over him again. A dark fae.
"'Tis no' for public consumption," Ram said.
"I see. And is your sister privy to this intrigue?"
"Aye."
"Very well. Have her come o'er here and whisper it in my ear."
"My sister is no' chattel. I do no' tell her what to do."
At that so very public statement of confidence, Aelsong's heart swelled with pride and affection. She looked at her brother with unconditional adoration for all of two seconds before she walked to the Scotia prince purposefully and stood on tiptoe to whisper, "Black Swan," in his ear.
Duff experienced a moment of sensory overload, a little light-headedness, when Song came near enough to kiss. He couldn't decide whether to focus on her very arousing scent which would have to be called Carnal Knowledge if it could be bottled, or the warmth of her breath on his ear, or the sound of her tinkling wind chimes voice, or the actual words she said. When he managed to restart his mental processes, it registered that she had mentioned The Order.
He looked down into those hypnotic Hawking blue eyes and said loud enough that everybody in the bar could hear, "The elves are in Scotia under my protection." Under his breath, quietly enough that only she could hear, he said, "Fae's gods, it can no' be."
Aelsong swallowed and looked up with wide eyes, her heart shaped mouth forming a silent "o". She started to take a step backward, but he grabbed her wrist. "What's your name?"
"Aelsong Hawking."
He looked like his future had just turned inside out and his brows drew together as he looked down at her. "Hawking?" His heart was sinking.
She backed up a couple of steps unable to look away then Duff's boisterous friends grabbed him and dragged him away.
EXCERPT II The Witch’s Dream
They had allowed Aelsong to come since she was officially employed by The Order and was the inductee's sister. Only one other honoree was still living and, at eighty-seven, said he wouldn't have missed it. The royal family had sent the prince as their representative.
When they removed the silk draping from Ram's portrait, Elora didn't even try to stop big tears from rushing down her cheeks and falling on the wool sash of her dress uniform. He looked exactly as he had that Yuletide day she arrived at the cottage in New Forest with his hair pulled back behind his ears, in hunting costume, and his Black Watch Tartan gathered around his shoulders. The artist was as masterful as Rembrandt. The portrait, beautiful beyond description with mere words, but not nearly so beautiful as the elf himself. He beamed as she pressed her lips to his ear and told him there never had lived a male more glorious.
It hadn't escaped Elora's notice that Prince Duff Torquil and Princess Aelsong Hawking continually stole furtive glances at one another throughout the ceremony. She was hoping it had escaped the attention of everyone else.