Walking down the elven road

Chapter 18

"Please lift your arm, my lady," the seamstress asks. She is measuring the length of Melya's arm.
The last few days have been very hectic. She hasn't had the chance to make up to Arion yet. If only she was able to do that... She probably crushed his soul, the memory of what happened feels like it happened just a minute ago instead of six days.

A single tear rolled down his cheek.
"What?" he asked, his voice hoarse.
"I had no choice," she desperately tried to explain.
"So they forced you into this?"
"You don't understand. It was either marrying him or being beheaded for being an elf."
"You don't love him, do you?" he says. She stays silent for a little while. "Do you?"
"He's always been kind tome. I don't think he would be a disastrous husband, even though he acts like a child. But I don't love him. I think that'll take some time. At the moment, I am just grateful that he saved my life."
"You can't marry him."
"I'm so sorry and I wish it was different, but as I just explained, I don't have a choice."
Arion puts his hands in his pockets and stares at his feet. Suddenly he stands up, takes Melya's hand into his and places a little item in them.
"This is what I think of this," he says, and then he walks away.
Melya sits frozen in her place, and manages to slowly open her hand. A necklace is in it. Silver, and a big white gem is attaced to it. A moonstone. The traditional elven proposal.

She has not seen him since. He has left to the lords of the eastern part of the Kingdom, to inform them of the royal wedding.
Speaking of the wedding, it is happening soon. Next week she will say her words at the altar. The elven envoy has been sent back to Xoriah. She surely wants to attend her son and heir's wedding. She won't let the chance to poison the bride slip through her meager fingers. The seamstress is measuring her so her dress will be a perfect fit. Melya actually didget a say in the design of the dress, so its a combination of the human and elven traditional wedding dresses. She can only hope no-one interferes during the making of the dress. Not everyone is happy with the situation. Melya can't go anywhere without guards because disappointed highborn girls or envious servants would attack her and try to take her place. And that's without them knowing she's of elven ancestry.
"We should go meet the King and Queen at dinner," she tells her guards. They follow her as two huge shadows with swords. Six days, and she already has grown tired of them. They seem just as envious as the maids, but she doesn't understand why.
She hasn't talked to the King since his son's betrothal. The Queen is even more a mystery to her. The woman just ignores her, doesn't say anything, doesn't seem to approve of her daughter-in-law-to-be. That might just pose another problem.

The dining room where the Royals eat most of the time is very different from the one where they welcome their guests. This one is much more sober. The staff calls it the "holly room". The doors are made out of the wood of the holly, whereas the doors of the common dining room are of birch wood. The table is also entirely made out of holly, just like the eight chairs surrounding it and the floor beneath it. Not that there is much to be seen of the floor. The Queen has placed her favorite gray rug on it, and the thing is so large it covers up the entire floor. A true nightmare for the servants to clean.

Melya is starting to like the Queen less and less. Her chair is, contrary to the others, covered in soft furs and cushions. Probably her but is too fragile to sit on a wooden chair, Melya thinks, or her ego to large to sit like a common woman.

The King and Queen are already present when she arrives. Kithan isn't, of course.

"Good evening," she greets the couple.

"A good evening to you too, Melya," the King answers. The Queen's mouth twitches at the hearing of the girl's name. "Please, seat yourself."

An awkward silence follows when she seats herself. The Queen refuses to look her in the eye, the King does but he refuses to say anything.

Finally, after about ten minutes, Kithan enters the room and seats himself next to Melya. Maids immediately enter the room to serve the first course, bisque. It smells. Of lobster. Which is to be expected, because bisque is essentially soup made of poor lobsters boiled to death.

"And, how was your day, Father," he asks.

"Nothing important," the King answers, "An elf arrived to announce that Queen Xoriah is going to attend your wedding. He didn't want to eat with us, so he isn't here now. He said he didn't want to disturb our bonding time."

"That's very considerate of him," Kithan says, "And the wedding preparations?"

The Queen answers that question: "All is well. Today I made sure the decorations and flowers are the right ones. And I made a plan for where our guests should be seated if we don't want to offend anyone."

"I am sure you did a great job, love," the King says.

"And, Melya," Kithan says, "What about your dress?"

"You'll be surprised when you see it," she answers, "I won't say anything else. It should be a surprise to as much people as possible. I was wondering though, should I show my ears?"

"Yes," Kithan says.

"If you think you won't be killed on sight," the King agrees.

"No," the Queen says agressively.

"Why not?" Melya asks, "It's not like I can hide my ears forever. Maybe people would be offended to find out after the wedding I am elven. Especially the lords and ladies would be pleased if they knew before Kithan and I said our words." The Queen quickly retreats.

"You're right," she says. 

Spineless, Melya thinks, absolutely spineless.