Disregarding Fate (D'Vaire Book 8)
DISREGARDING FATE
JESSAMYN KINGLEY
Copyright © 2018 Jessamyn Kingley
All Rights Reserved
All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Editing: Flat Earth Editing
Cover Design: 2018 © L.J. Anderson, Mayhem Cover Creations
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Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Epilogue
About the Author
Chapter 1
57 AD
Cadlyr was doing his best to adjust to the heavy weight of the beads in his hair. He had come of age the previous year and was attending his first elven gathering. The day before, his mother, Chieftess Taliya, had insisted one of the ladies in the tribe decorate his waist-length tresses so everyone would know he was the son of the chieftains. His parents had high hopes for him; they wished for him to meet his mate and add children to his family.
Chieftain Aniernan wanted a dynasty of great warrior elves to aid him in his many skirmishes. There were two things Cadlyr’s father seemed to enjoy most: criticizing him and battling. Not that Chieftain Aniernan personally fought—he preferred to send others to combat. As his only offspring, Cadlyr had thus far been spared war, but he knew it was only a temporary respite.
From Cadlyr’s point of view, being a Cwylld elf did not have any advantages. It was an endless cycle of soldiering and he wanted no part of it, but there was no way out. So he did his best to do what was expected of him—which was why he was donning his finest lavender tunic to join the rest of the people in celebrating the start of the entire event. Once he had his shirt on, Cadlyr tugged his long mane out of the collar.
“Cadlyr, you’ve tarried long enough. It’s time to join the festivities,” his father yelled from outside the tent.
“I know,” he muttered as he walked out to join his parents. He could smell the fires burning and heard not only the loud music but the raised voices of excited attendees. The trio made their way to where the food was set out on long tables.
“Go on, your mate is likely waiting for you,” his mother said as she pushed him with the flat of her hand. “Return when you’ve found her.”
Cadlyr had no idea how his parents could be so confident he would meet his other half. Elves had infinite lifespans—barring any injury to vital organs—and he was but nineteen years of age. It was presumptuous to assume Fate would gift him with his mate so young, but he did as he was told and began walking through the throngs of people. It was a sea of beautiful tunics and dresses in a rainbow of colors. Cadlyr found it a stunning display, but the way everyone reacted to him was most irritating.
The lavender at the ends of his blond hair as well as on his clothing told of his heritage, and his tribe’s warring was legendary. More than one community had been cut down at the end of a Cwylld sword, and it seemed most of the participants wished to give him a vast amount of room to walk. They backed away because they feared getting on the wrong side of him, which might ignite yet another battle. Cadlyr decided it was best to hold his head high and ignore them. He had done nothing to invite their trepidation and he would allow no one to begin a conflict on his behalf.
After heading for one of the tables laden with food, Cadlyr selected a piece of cheese. It was right after he bit into it that his life changed. A smell hit his nose—an unusual mix of the ocean and an earthy hint of heather. Like all unmated elves, Cadlyr lacked sexuality until, standing there at the gathering, his member roared to life. As his body went wild, Cadlyr glanced to his left and saw a stunning man staring at him. His exotic skin, the color of a summer sky, told Cadlyr he was from the Valzadari tribe as did his black hair and his deep blue eyes, which were wide in his elegant face. Unlike the Cwylld who wore mostly pale purple, the man was dressed in a tunic that was three shades of blue and accented with lilac.
“You’re my mate,” Cadlyr blurted out after swallowing the morsel in his mouth.
“I hadn’t expected to meet my mate. It’s my first gathering,” he said, his eyes lit with what Cadlyr hoped was happiness.
“It is mine as well. I’m pleased to meet you. I know you are Valzadari, but might I have your name?”
The man beamed. “I am Evlithar. I don’t know how to recognize the tribes. Will you tell me your name and from which one you hail?”
“I am Cadlyr of the Cwylld.”
“I have heard of your people,” Evlithar replied, and Cadlyr saw his smile falter. “You have a great many beads in your hair. You must have high status in your tribe.”
“I am the son of the chieftains. I know the Valzadari do not decorate their hair as do the Cwylld, but your clothing is not that of someone without status.”
“I have status though not as high as yours. My cousin is the chieftain.”
Cadlyr was thrilled to hear it. Elven tradition dictated that a newly mated pair joined the tribe with the highest status, but both he and Evlithar were related to their chieftains. Joy filled his heart—not only would he now have a companion in life, he could leave the Cwylld behind him. He would have no problem at all living with the Valzadari and since it was also a tradition to be mated within a day or two of meeting, he would never have to return to the village where he had been born. His stern parents would be a part of his past, and it was this lovely blue man who would be his future.
“Not so far below me,” Cadlyr said. “They will be holding many mating ceremonies on the morrow. Shall we join the other lucky elves who have met their other halves this day?”
“It will be expected when we announce we are mates to our families,” Evlithar replied.
“Yes, but you have not given me an answer to my query.”
“Fate has chosen us. I will find my cousin to alert him.”
“Must you go now?” Cadlyr asked. While he was anxious to see his ceremony planned, he hadn’t meant to run Evlithar off.
“There are preparations to be seen to. I wouldn’t have anything get in the way of our destiny.”
“Will your cousin make the arrangements, or shall I speak with my parents?”
“My cousin will be more than happy to see to it,” Evlithar replied. Cadlyr was elated to hear it. While his parents had anticipated him meeting his mate, they wouldn’t be pleased to find he was male and that there would be no children. At least he would not have to worry about them being upset when they found out he wished to leave. With no way to add anything to the tribe, they’d be delighted to see him go.
“Might I kiss you before you leave?”
Evlithar’s dark azure eyes darted around, but he nodded his head. Cadlyr took three steps so their bodies were close. Evlithar lifted his head, as he was nearly a foot shorter than him, and Cadlyr offered him a grin then pressed their mouths together. The Valzadari elf had soft lips and though Cadlyr would have liked to deepen the caress, they’d have time the following day after promising their eternal lives to each other. Cadlyr pulled away and studied the remarkable face in front of him before sending up his heartfelt gratitude to Fate.
“Thank you for the kiss. I will send word when my cousin has made the arrangements.”
“I can hardly wait, Evlithar. I look forward to our ceremony.”
“As do I,” he said. “Be well until I see you again, Cadlyr.”
“And to you.”
Cadlyr watched as Evlithar turned on his heel and walked away. He was blissful down to his bones. After losing Evlithar in the massive crowd, Cadlyr helped himself to a few more pieces of cheese then headed back to the tent. As he would have predicted, he found his parents dining inside; they had likely only ventured out long enough to procure their meal before returning.
“Father, I’ve exciting news,” he announced as soon as the flap closed behind him.
“Have you done as I asked and found your mate?”
“Yes, Father, I have.”
“You see, Taliya, perhaps our son does not lack worth after all.”
“We will
need to make arrangements for your mating ceremony,” his mother said.
“No need. My mate is kin to his chieftain and has promised to take care of it. We are to be mated on the morrow.”
“Look there, Aniernan. The boy has even managed to find a mate of prestige.”
“Cadlyr, from which tribe does she hail?” his father asked.
“My mate is Valzadari. His name is Evlithar.”
“Aniernan, did the foolish lad just say his mate is a male?”
“Cadlyr, stop these foolish games. Tell your mother you didn’t make the mistake of acquiring a male mate.”
He lifted his chin. “I cannot for it would be a lie.”
“Stupid child, two men cannot have children. You have cost the Cwylld many future warriors,” Chieftain Aniernan said.
“He has always been a disappointment to us. It shouldn’t be a surprise he has managed to muddy this up as well. This is why I wanted no children of my own, but you insisted we needed to further our bloodline,” Chieftess Taliya complained.
“It is Fate you have a quarrel with,” Cadlyr replied. He was well used to his parents discussing him as a disgrace with no value, and their reaction was anticipated. Cadlyr could not care less; the following day he would be exchanging blood with Evlithar and leaving the Cwylld far behind.
“Do not speak that way to us. We gave you life, though you’ve never thanked us for it. The least you could’ve done was to do as we asked of you,” his father remarked.
“You told me to meet my mate and I have done so.”
“All your life, I’ve told you of the need for more Cwylld warriors. You cannot be a help to your tribe without offspring.”
“I care not. My plan is to leave the Cwylld and join the Valzadari. They don’t have a constant need to quarrel with every tribe who has the misfortune of meeting the two of you.”
“How dare you? I have given you every advantage, and yet you throw hateful words at us. You are no son of ours. The Cwylld will forget your existence when you go. We won’t allow them to speak of you,” Chieftain Aniernan shouted.
“Hateful child. The Valzadari will grow weary of your constant need to spew such insufferable speech and when they do, you will not have the Cwylld to return to,” his mother added. “Someday you’ll live to regret the way you’ve disregarded us and our orders. Leave us. You’ll need to find another place to rest your head this night. We’ll attend your ceremony as tradition dictates but after that, we need never speak again.”
“At least I won’t find myself with a sword in my belly ending what should’ve been an immortal life due to your need to constantly be at war.”
“Chieftess Taliya has told you to begone. You’ll heed her words until you say farewell to the Cwylld,” his father spat out.
Cadlyr did not bother to reply to the man he would not call father again. He whistled his way back to the food tables, so he could fill his belly. The exchange with the Cwylld chieftains had gone much the way he had expected. They had never shown him love or caring, and it would have been foolish to think they would start because he’d met his other half. He was thrilled Fate had found a way to ensure he wouldn’t have a child who would be lost in a battle with no purpose. Once Cadlyr found the tasty cheese he had sampled earlier, he concentrated on nothing but his burning desire to begin his life anew with Evlithar of the Valzadari.
Chapter 2
Evlithar raced away from the food and the Cwylld elf he had just met. After several minutes, he turned back and managed to find Cadlyr’s blond hair. He was enjoying bites of cheese, and Evlithar wished Fate had made a different choice. While he had wanted to meet his mate, he had not imagined he would find one from the most hated tribe among their people. Cadlyr was tall, blond, and gorgeous. Those first few moments in his presence had been absolute bliss until he learned from where he hailed. Were he anything other than the son of the chieftains, Evlithar would have the right to demand he join the Valzadari but since he was, there was no escaping his fate. Evlithar was expected to make his home amongst the warring Cwylld, and he had no clue how to fight.
All his life, Evlithar’s mother had insisted he had no need to learn defense. Since her death three years before, Evlithar hadn’t gone against her wishes that he remain an elf of peace. He wondered now if his lack of weaponry skills would lead to his death within days of tying his soul to Cadlyr’s. Evlithar turned away from the view of Cadlyr and within seconds was once again in a full sprint toward his campsite. When he finally reached the Valzadari tent, he shut himself inside and waited for his cousin’s return from wherever on the festival grounds he happened to be. Hours passed while Evlithar’s mind whirled from one traumatic battle scene to the next. It was useless to try and hold back the tears, so they fell down his cheeks unbidden.
“Evlithar, why are you sitting in the corner crying?” his cousin asked when he finally opened the flap and joined him inside.
Gathering what little courage he had, Evlithar swiped the moisture from his face and stood. When he spoke, the words shook with fear. “I’ve met my mate.”
“I’ll make arrangements for you to be joined on the morrow. What is her name and from what tribe does she hail?”
“He’s a man, not a woman,” Evlithar replied as he wrung his hands. “His name is Cadlyr of the Cwylld. He’s the son of the chieftains.”
Chieftain Kalthekor’s brows rose in surprise. “Fate does not often pair two male elves together, but I sense that’s not your cause for concern.”
“Cwylld.”
“Yes, I heard you.”
“I have no wish to die in a war. The Cwylld are much the same as the Eilsolan, are they not? I will die much as our fathers did.”
“I have no wish to speak of our parents,” Kalthekor replied. “And the Cwylld are far worse than the Eilsolan who so cruelly cut down the lives of our warriors.”
“What can I do?”
“There are no choices, Evlithar. You will tie your life to this Cadlyr and join the Cwylld.”
“I’m scared.”
Kalthekor appeared unmoved. “As well you should be. The Cwylld fight as others plan meals.”
“I have no skill with weapons.”
“In a tribe such as the Cwylld, you will likely be taught what you need to know.”
“But—”
“Cease fighting your fate. You’ll be mated on the morrow. This is the life decided for you. You’ll call yourself Evlithar of the Cwylld, and your destiny is to likely die in one of the many wars of your new tribe. There’s no use worrying over what has been chosen for you.”
Evlithar’s eyes welled up and once again, his face was wet with tears. Kalthekor was right, but it did not make him any less terrified. In fact, his cousin’s words were only reinforcing his fears. There were no options; Fate could not be denied. “I wish I hadn’t come to the gathering.”
“You came of age this year—you know it’s tradition to begin attending gatherings. Many elves wait hundreds or thousands of years to meet their other half. Be grateful you’ve been spared the wait.”
“I would find myself more grateful were I not being sent off to die.”
“Evlithar, I’ve arrangements to make. You are not the only Valzadari I must attend to. Pack your belongings, and then retire for the night. I’ll send the details of your ceremony to the Cwylld.”
Evlithar could only nod and do as he was told. He desired comfort, but there was nowhere to turn. Kalthekor had carried the weight of being chieftain for three years since the death of their parents, and it made him sterner with each passing month. It was at times like this Evlithar yearned for the reassurance he could always find with his late mother. How he wished the Valzadari hadn’t gone to war with the Eilsolan.
Once Evlithar had gathered all his clothing and the beads he had been given at the ceremony to honor his late parents, he eased himself down to his pallet to seek out rest. He wondered how he would find a way to quiet his mind enough to doze and knew tears were likely to soak his pillow. He wished Cadlyr had been an elf of lesser rank or from any tribe besides the Cwylld.
Cadlyr was gorgeous, and his soft kiss had made Evlithar’s pulse pick up in the few seconds their lips had touched. It had managed to cut through the terror circling in his brain, which had seized him the moment he’d heard the word “Cwylld.” As the pull of slumber tugged at his consciousness, he tried to focus on the lovely pair of lavender eyes and gorgeous beaded blond hair instead of the horror of war. Evlithar fell into a troubled sleep, and he cursed Fate for what she had done to him.