The Pastel Prince (Crowns of Melowynn #1) by V.L. Locey

Author:V.L. Locey [Locey, V.L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Perky Rooster Press
Published: 2025-01-17T00:00:00+00:00

Grand Advisor Umeris:

Regarding our search for the stone curse, there is new and vital information that has come to our attention. We beseech you to turn the purge clerics from the Verboten wilds and direct them to the base of the Witherhorn Mountains. This is no plague but a dark mage intent on wiping out all forest elves and druids. Your aid would prove invaluable.

Yours in humble subservience, Kenton Amergin, Liaison from Renedith and prince of the Verboten Territory and its People.

“UGH, I HATE HOW YOU HAVE TO SOUND like you’re planting your lips on his pucker at the end of every damn missive,” Tezen snarled as she hung from my braids. “That’s the problem with the high-and-mighty. They get all slippery betwixt thier legs from having people grovel.”

I could not disagree. My fingers rolled the small bit of parchment into a tight roll. Nin sat above us, the sleek black carrier of what I prayed would save the druid camps from certain annihilation. I clucked softly to the raven as my brother rested on his travois. Beirach and I had dosed him well with the last of our medicines and then added a sleeping potion atop the healing draughts and spells. Our aim was to see him slumber throughout the day as we rode. The journey would not be a smooth one, for we had no time now to trot along at a genteel pace.

“You think they’ll call off the clerics?” Tezen asked as Nin left his roost to land in front of me, hopping about to clean up the crumbs left by our hasty breakfast. None of us, other than Eldar, had found much rest last night. After the beetle attack in the library, Beirach and I returned to the clearing, relayed the event to Tezen, and tended to my brother. Our unease was now tripled for who knew if Maverus was watching us through the eyes of another swarm of corrupted insects. Yes, I knew I should not assume that this evil wizard was Beirach’s son without proof, but my instincts were telling me that it was.

“I pray so,” I replied, calling to the raven once more. He walked to me in that funny way that his kind walked, then paused in front of me. I kneeled down and fastened the missive to the raven’s right leg. “Nin, you must fly with great haste.”

He rattled at me, the call possibly meaning he understood or he wished for more bread crusts. I felt he grasped what I asked of him but had no way of actually communicating with him. When this nightmare was over, I must find a way to begin my studies in earnest. Perhaps a wise, kind, and handsome archdruid would take me under his wing.

I stood, daydreams lifting from my mind as the thin fog did as the day warmed. I whispered a prayer over the raven and then lifted my arm. Off he soared, strong wings taking him in a steady spiral until he cleared the treetops.

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