Aurora E-Book

Beth Ball

• Herausgeber: Grove Guardian Press
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020

Beschreibung

The story of how it all began...

Dorric Themear has experienced the giddy flutterings of new love before. But not like this. Behind the sapphire eyes of Lady Emelyee Amastacia lies a long-awaited destiny that neither of them can sense or stop.

However, forces darker than Emelyee’s husband are prepared to stand in their way.

Ridel, one of Lucien’s most trusted servants, is less than enthused about her assignment to watch the lovers. If only her master had been visionary enough to see that a child cannot result if the parents are dead. She’ll do her best to comply with his orders to watch and to wait—at least for now.

High in the Frostmaw Mountains, Yvayne has seen the signs of a turning of the age before. Perhaps this time, with the proper intervention, she and the druids can make a play for Azuria after all.

Leseprobe

Aurora

An Age of Azuria Novella

Beth Ball

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

The Adventure Continues

About the Author

Map of Azuria

Also by Beth Ball

Acknowledgments

Chapter 1

“It began at a dance,” Dorric would recount for years afterward, “as these stories often do.” He and the other elven diplomats had gathered in the courtyard beside the gardens to make their grand entrance. Flowers exhaled sun-warmed pollens, tempting traveling elves and bees with their heady aromas.

Dorric had traveled from Thyles Thamor, a city embedded in the forest, but the mingling of sharp and subtle florals on the sea air brought back memories of Invae Alinor, his childhood home—moments of laughter, of reading by the docks, of gazing out at the sea. Six weeks had passed on the Infinite Ocean, sailing vast expanses of practically uncharted waters toward the sunny shores of Caldara, but they had arrived at last.

Linolynn was a small kingdom, and quite young, only a century or so older than his own grandparents, but its crown prince had great plans for his city-state’s future and aimed to make it a presence felt on the world stage.

Their captain had docked the fine elven craft in the estate’s natural harbor, and Prince Arontis himself had greeted the delegation on the dock and ushered them to the estate, its white stone and glass exterior winking brightly at them as the sun tiptoed toward the horizon. Now, feasts, revelry, and new acquaintances awaited them.

The ballroom swirled with color, gemstones flashing as men and women paraded across the dance floor in fine evening dress. A twirl of sapphire and gold swept past Dorric, accompanied by a fragrance that took him a moment to place. Gardenia. The human woman’s long, loose curls performed a waltz of their own as she spun across the floor, each tendril of golden hair bouncing in time to the enchanting symphony.

Her partner, an elderly gentleman, was far from her equal as a dancer, yet the two looked happy together. The adagio rose to a crescendo, and the couple drew closer, then apart, bowing with the final chords. Gloved hands patted together, muted applause for the court’s musicians. The two parted, and the older man walked away.

Dorric bowed low with a flourish before him. “Dorric Themear, at your service, sir.”

The man’s bushy eyebrows muted any surprise he might otherwise have expressed at such a blunt introduction, but what were grand balls for if not to meet and be met? “Master Ketch”—he smiled and bowed his head—“though you may of course call me Laurence if you like. No one else does.” His eerily pale blue eyes twinkled.

Dorric laughed. “Perhaps Master Ketch would be best then, for the time being.”

“Quite so, quite so.” Laurence grinned again and gallantly offered Dorric his elbow to show him over to the drinks table. Crystal goblets held sparkling beverages of pale gold, and shades of orange glinted off the glass faces with the deepening light outdoors. “May I ask how you find Linolynn thus far, master elf?”

“Very engaging, sir. In other circumstances, I might add that first impressions of a place can be deceiving, but I have an unshakeable feeling that Linolynn is just as captivating as it has thus far appeared to be.”

The laughter of Master Ketch’s dance partner bounded toward him from across the finely appointed hall. The marble flooring was inlaid with lapis lazuli, and the ceiling was painted the palest sky blue and gold. The curving white walls and mirrored doors shimmered, and wide terraces opened onto another branch of the estate’s gardens, allowing the sea air to drift in and among the guests.

“Pardon me.” Dorric shook his head. “It’s just that the appointment of this room . . . I have traveled through many human settlements, some as old as Thyles Thamor, others barely settled. It is not often that I have encountered such . . . hmm, is ‘modest elegance’ the best phrase?”

Laurence nodded, gazing around the room, forehead wrinkled to raise his brows above his drooping lids.

“To speak more directly, sir, I’ve never been any farther north on this side of the world than Cyrinia, which isn’t really north at all. I find it absolutely enchanting.” Dorric sighed, turning to take in the movement of the room alongside his new acquaintance.

“Her name is Emelyee. Lady Emelyee Amastacia. Soon to be a duchess.”

The sparkling bubbles in Dorric’s drink nearly choked him. “Pardon?” He muffled his cough with the cuff of his sleeve.

Laurence chuckled. “The woman you’ve been staring after. Lady Amastacia, one of the brightest jewels of our court.”

“I, um, yes, thank you. She’s quite beautiful. My apologies, I mean no disrespect.”

“I did not perceive any, my young friend.” A teasing grin played out in the man’s bright eyes.

Surely he knew of the long-lived nature of the elves? Even if Laurence was one hundred, he would be only half the age of the youngest diplomat present.

Laurence sipped his champagne. “This is her family’s estate, you see. Aurora. Though her husband, that man over there”—he indicated a cluster of human men in their late young and early middle years—“has his sights set on expanding their fortunes even further with more profitable properties.”

Dorric’s heart slumped against the wall and slid to the floor. He bit the inside of his lip. “Her husband, which one did you say he was?”

“Ah, yes, they do look rather alike from here. That one”—he nodded again—“with a slightly yellowing complexion and frown.”

The man Laurence indicated had a severe look and calculating eyes. He leaned forward, arguing with his companions. “Thank you, Laurence, I appreciate it. Might I find you again, later in the evening, as I make the rounds?”

“I would appreciate that, Dorric Themear.” The elderly man patted Dorric’s arm and wandered away to investigate the selection of cheeses.

A pleasant fellow. Had he meant the comment about the soon-to-be duchess as a warning? If so, the intent hadn’t been unkind. Any desire of that sort on his part was impractical, traveling as he did. And it would take the council several years to nurture a new diplomat and raise them to even half his level of expertise. The woman, Lady Amastacia, glanced in her husband’s direction now and again but, as far as he could tell, those looks were never returned.

Dorric mingled among several of the other nobles and their guests. Each person he met was charming, and they were all easily amazed by any mention or tale of the world beyond their own borders. Did this court not travel?

Each conversation pulled him closer to the beautiful young woman. As Dorric watched, a man with brown hair and a full beard whisked the woman’s friend away across the floor, and she was left alone.

Her eyes flashed in his direction, the blue of the summer sky ringed by the blue of the open sea, and Dorric was at her side.

He bowed deeply and then extended his hand to take hers. “Might I ask you to dance, Lady Amastacia?”

A bright smile, like he was the first to request this honor. Full lips, mauve, and a slight flush against her beige skin. “You may, sir, though I haven’t the pleasure of knowing your name as you know mine.”

Dorric gently squeezed her proffered hand and led her out onto the dance floor. They joined the group of dancers near her friend. Her long fingers fit perfectly inside his. “Is it not a diplomat’s business to learn such things?”

The music began and he pulled her closer, her waist warm through the silk of her gown.

“It very well may be,” she said. A closed-lip smile. “And do you claim such motivations for yourself?”

“I do, dear lady, though I could not in good faith promise that my happening upon such knowledge was motivated by duty alone.”

Emelyee laughed as she twirled away to another partner, as the dance required.

Dorric took the arm of an older woman with graying hair for their turn about the room. What might Lady Amastacia say in response? Would she be offended? He ought to say something to the woman beside him, or at least inquire her name. He turned to speak, but the chorus resumed. His new partner winked at him as they parted, and Emelyee reappeared. He took her hand once more.

However uncomfortable, he would wait for her to speak. Her eyes evaluated him behind long lashes. Curious, but not disapproving. Likely elves were as foreign to her as they seemed to be to the rest of the court.

Suddenly Emelyee stiffened, her back rigid and hand tensed. Dorric spun her around. Her husband had looked at her at last. Dorric twirled her once more, back to face the opposite end of the ballroom from where her spouse stood in his cluster.

“My name is Dorric Themear, Lady Amastacia.”