Nectar of War: The Song of Verity and Serenity (The Nectar of War Series Book 1)
Nectar of War: Part 2 – Chapter 26

LAVEN HEPHAESTUS ARVENALDI, II

E sme elected to ascend to Nadrexi on her own—this is not a shock to me; I supposed she did not wish to ascend with me. What I did not expect was for Maivena to go with her. She has been imperceptibly out of reach following last night. I would ask, yet I know she would lie or undoubtedly change the subject of conversation as if I never asked.

It could be plausible that Esme would take Maivena to Xenathi and not Nadrexi to free her of Vaigon, and if I were asked of it, I would lie. I would say I set her free from the shackles of my nation through the Intimacy Arrangement since that is the only way to allow a servant their freedom, but not without great argument from the government.

Unfortunately, my brothers and I may rule as the highest next to Lorsius, but there are specific particularities in our Court that must go through our entire government—releasing servants is one. If one is freed they all will want freedom, and that is another war that would beckon.

To get to Nadrexi, I must go over the Terseian Mountains. It will be simpler for me to go through Terseius and surpass the border to reach the lands behind Xenathi by the mountains. That is where Nadrexi will be. I have been there once before when my brothers and I went on a horizon run that we should not have gone on due to risking the chances of New Quamfasi locating us. They would have had every right to kill us upon sight.

If I recollect one thing about Nadrexi it is the sunset view from their ground area. That is how I know I am close, by the passing of deep oranges and pink through my ascension.

Nadrexi, The Sunset Province, is a land that has no governmental structure. They do not have legitimate protection other than the men and women who are their Warriors to guard the grounds. But then that makes me question governed lands. Nadrexi is a small nation of people who have lived on without a King or Queen for all these years. They prove there is no government needed for them to make it on their own.

The only qualm I have for Nadrexi is how open their land is to the rogues. Could there be a possibility of the rogues replaceing a way around the mountains and to Nadrexi? The journey from Vaigon Citadel to New Quamfasi Citadel alone is days’ worth of travel. There are possibilities of the trip being a fortnight if you go by carriage—and that is without stopping. If you are proficient enough, it will be minutes, if not seconds, to ascend. That meaning, it would take a prolonged time to replace your way to Nadrexi.

I cease my ascension when I know I have arrived. Then, not far off in the distance, Maivena and Esme are standing at a gate that was not there years ago.

Maivena stares at the initial on the black, iron gate securely between stone pillars leading to the palace doors.

A large H is what the initial on the gate reads.

There are Warriors behind the gates, intently watching the three of us. Maivena and Esme are hand in hand as they wait.

“A messenger went off to have the gates opened,” Esme announces.

“Do you know whose initial that may belong to?” I ask.

“Hatsiverso, it is the last name of Lana and Jorja,” Maivena answers.

The gate lifts upward, and two warriors are stepping in our direction. They are dressed in burgundy leather armor, similar to the design of Quamfasian armor. Except for their stitching, it is black and silver.

“You will be seen in the Throne Room.” One of the Warriors speaks.

Without delay, he turns on his heel, directing toward the doors of the palace. The three of us quickly follow behind.

The construct of the palace is pristine, but it does not seem brand-new. On the contrary, the age of the stone appears only a couple of years old.

Exceeding the palace are hundreds of acres of land before you see a short view of a city, and I am confident beyond that are villages upon villages.

The floors are dark wood, but the walls are rustic and white. There are paintings strung on the walls of people I do not recognize; under the icons are names I also do not identify with.

We are led deeper into the mansion before coming upon a large hall. Above us, the ceiling is curved with carvings of the Gods implanted in it. Chandeliers hang from the top, and each is nearly six feet apart as they span across.

Windows span from the floor and up the walls before the ornamental ceiling curves. The windows allow a marvelous view of the sunset broadcasting into the hallway, hurling golden rays over the floor we walk on.

Finally, we reach the entrance of the Throne Room. The doors are pulled open, and a man is standing there with a female Warrior going over a map she is holding.

“One moment,” he says, respectfully interrupting her.

The sleeves of his white undershirt are rolled up his arms, the strings of his collar are undone. It loosely hangs open revealing his brown skin and a portion of his chest. It seems as if he was busy before our arrival, but I have no messenger in Vaigon who can replace the location of Nadrexi. I now know why since their small country appears to be wholly reformed over the years.

His eyes lock with Maivena’s before approaching.

He is confounded the closer he steps; I deem it is because of her enthralling features. Yet, there is no denying the immediate connection between Maivena and him. It is tormenting, although captivating, to see the instantaneous bond between them, and they have not even gotten more than ten feet of one another.

“Zevyk,” Esme speaks first. “Who knew you would want to become a King?”

He lustrously laughs. “I am no King, Esme.”

If not a King, then what?

He smiles in my direction before holding a hand out. “Zevyk,” he introduces himself. “You are?”

“Laven,” I nod, taking his hand.

His eyebrows raise. “High Prince Laven?”

There is a wariness that takes over his posture.

Because of Lorsius, there will ceaselessly be a red flag hanging over my head due to his actions. It is impossible to compel people to understand that I have tried to be nothing like him for years.

I nod. “Yes.”

“Well,” His spurious welcoming smile continues to hold. “It is nice to meet you.”

His gaze diverts from me and toward Maivena.

“Ivella,” Zevyk graciously speaks.

Ivella?

He offers out his hand, and Maivena hurls into his arms as she races onward. She collides against him hard enough to knock a stray golden hair over his forehead. His eyes close, burying his grey orbs.

He is taking in every drop of her.

“If you must continue with what you were previously doing, we can escort them elsewhere to await your arrival.” The Warrior who brought us here speaks after . . . Maivena and Zevyk part.

Ivella. I say to myself once more.

What am I missing?

“They are fine, Gavyn.” Zevyk addresses the Warrior. “I will escort them wherever they need from here, thank you.”

Everyone but Esme, Zevyk, Maivena, and myself leave the room.

Maivena looks up at him as she steps back.

“What can I help you all with? Or were you only coming here for a resting stop?”

“Oh,” Maivena turns to me. And I know for that split second, she forgot I was here.

There is a grin on her face as she reaches out and pulls me forward.

“Yes,” I begin. “I require to speak with you on the matter of alliance.”

“I would despise to deceive; I am not the one you would come to for alliance. Nadrexi is now a Court of New Quamfasi, their Southern Court. You would have to travel to Xenathi and speak with King Vallehes and Queen Penelope. Any matters that I would handle here would have to go through Vallehes and Penelope first. They ascended home this morning; they were here for a while helping me set several laws in place.”

So he is the Duke of Nadrexi, a formal Leader in Vallehes and Penelope’s Circle.

If I attempt to speak with Vallehes and Penelope myself, I know it would take days, if not weeks. There is a chance of never.

“It is nearly time for supper. Will you be staying?” Zevyk asks, glancing between the three of us and the small bags of clothes we brought along.

“Yes, we planned to.” Maivena counters. “Does my mother still reside in the same house?”

His face turns to distaste after the mention of her mother. “She does. And the house your father owned is still prospering as well. I have an additional home for anyone to stay in if more people are coming.”

“I will take the key to your additional residence, please.” Esme swiftly declares. Maivena’s eyes narrow at her, and Esme shrugs. “I want a clean home for my stay. Who knows when the last it was that your father’s house was touched or cleansed. And I will kill your mother before I stay in that forsaken home.”

Zevyk crosses his arms as he chuckles. “No worries over it. I have your father’s home cleaned weekly, Ivella.”

That affectionate smile Maivena distributes in moments of sheer thankfulness appears.

“Thank you.” She modestly says.

“I would ask you where you have been all these years, but I will conserve that conversation for later.” A hand runs down her arm, and it only leads her closer to him.

The movement is all too natural.

“Unfortunately, I do have to meet with my General again, she is who just left us. If you need me, send word, and I will be there.” He steps to leave but stops before turning to Esme. He holds out his hand, and the key to the home he spoke of appears in his palm.

“Thank you,” Esme says before taking it from him.

“I will inform my mothers of your arrival,” he tells Maivena. “I am sure they will be itching to see you. I will direct them to wait until tomorrow so you can settle in for tonight.”

* * *

The home that belonged to Maivena’s father, Naius, is a stone built mansion secluded in the vast forest and just near a waterfall that calmly blankets down. It replicates a cottage, but largely more expansive.

The inside is intricately embroidered; the brick walls are painted over in a cream wash. The fireplace is a relatively generous size to warm the entire home. First, there is a small shelf with books filling it to the brim, then there is the reading corner in the windowsill that outlooks the waterfall.

I can envision Maivena sitting there rendering nearly every book on the shelf while carelessly gazing at the water every now and then.

Maivena bestows a chamber for me to stay in. Not far down the long hall is her room and two others.

“Did he call you Ivella?” I eventually ask my itching question.

Maivena nods after looking around the chamber. “Yes. I did not want to be known as Ivella while in Vaigon. Although I valued my time as Ivella, I felt like a radically altered person after being delivered to the servant grounds. That was when I knew I would be distinguished as Maivena.”

You were forced to become a different person.

I nod and sit down on the bench in front of the bed I will be sleeping on.

“Is Ivella what you wish to be known as now?” Even to me.

I regret asking; perhaps I am envious of Zevyk discerning a side of Maivena I do not know. Maivena is all I know and I hold on to her admiringly. I want to be able to address her as the person he does not know.

Setting my possessiveness aside, I wait for her response.

She appears disinclined. Then, all her own, I see it. I see her. That profound vigor I knew was always in her.

Ivella is her strength.

“Yes, I would like for you to call me, Ivella.”

* * *

We did not speak again after she told me she wished to be known as Ivella.

And I did not ask who Zevyk was to her.