Nanny For The Dark Elf King Celeste

King
Visit to download the full and correct content document:
https://ebookmass.com/product/nanny-for-the-dark-elf-king-celeste-king/
NANNY FOR THE DARK ELF KING
CELESTE KING
PROTHEKA PUBLISHING
 Copyright © 2023 by Celeste King

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and
retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Sign up for Celeste King Newsletter

Join my Facebook group here!
 DEDICATION

This book is dedicated to Kaylee, Emily, Taylor, Jordon, Melanie, Jamie, Jennifer, Hannah, Donna
and the whole “Project Protheka” family. Thanks for believing in the world.
 CONTENTS

Books in The World of Protheka

The World of Protheka

1. Grymlok
2. Rory
3. Grymlok
4. Rory
5. Grymlok
6. Grymlok
7. Rory
8. Grymlok
9. Rory
10. Grymlok
11. Rory
12. Grymlok
13. Rory
14. Grymlok
15. Rory
16. Grymlok
17. Rory
18. Grymlok
19. Rory
20. Grymlok
21. Rory
22. Grymlok
23. Rory
24. Rory
25. Grymlok
26. Rory
27. Grymlok
28. Rory
29. Grymlok
30. Rory
31. Grymlok
32. Grymlok
Preview of Mated to the Dark Elf
33. Raziel
34. Selene
35. Raziel
BOOKS IN THE WORLD OF PROTHEKA

Orc Warriors of Protheka Series

Mates of the Burning Sun Clan Series
Dark Elves of Protheka Series
Thoruk’s Prize: A Monster Romance
Naga’s of Protheka Series
Minotaur’s of Protheka Series
Demon’s of Protheka Series
Vampires of Protheka
Gargoyles of Protheka
THE WORLD OF PROTHEKA
 1

GRYMLOK

“T hat’sMyrather harsh, no?”

eyes flick up to the elf across from me. The infamous Archduke of Vhoig, the one whose
frozen heart was thawed by the human. Bright platinum hair and even sharper eyes make his features
look fierce – and he once was infamous for that exactly.
Some think Amelie made him go soft. But I know my brother is even more dangerous now that he
has something to protect, to fight for.
“Kral, you are not blind to what the masses seem to think of the royal family.” He arches a brow,
and I scoff as I lean back in my seat. My fingers are still curved around a letter I have yet to open, my
mind distracted as it usually is when my brother comes to my office. Not that I mind. “They do not see
the strength in aligning ourselves with humans.”
His nostrils flare. “My marriage is not an alliance–”
I hold up my hand, both to stop him and absorb the crackling magic that has been unleashed with
his emotions. He’s known as the most powerful elf on the continent, and while I do not doubt his
powers – so strong that his emotions had to be sealed away when he was a child – people seem to
forget that I am his older brother.
I am no less dangerous.
“Control yourself, brother.” I cluck my tongue. “Don’t go ruining my home over something I did
not say.”
He snorts, already relaxed. He knows I mean no harm toward him or his wife. I was the first
Sorcerer-King to allow human-elf magic – the cross-breed supporter, they called me. Which is what
led to this exact story.
“Who would guess that the infamous King Ishiraya would have such a penchant for keeping an
orderly home? Most would assume your zagfer would maintain your careful organization.”
I narrow my eyes at him and he chuckles. He knows as well as I that my dark elf servants are no
longer allowed in my office. They move too many things out of place, and I am nothing if not neat. I
have to keep my space in order. Chaos around me will lead to chaos of the mind, and I would not be a
fit King for a third of the largest continent if that was the case.
“Would you care to lose your kneecaps as well?” I ask. Kral’s smirk deepens. “I can assure you
that the Duke that dared to refer to your child as a cross-breed did not care for such a punishment.”
At that, his mouth twists angrily.
I sink back in my chair with a self-satisfied smile. “Or was it rather harsh?”
“I thought you were a benevolent King,” he teases. “That’s what they say about you.”
 My smile drops. “We both know that’s not what they say about me. They say that you went soft,
and that I must always have been weak in order to allow such a thing to happen. They find me so
weak that the lesser nobility thought it wise to gossip about me within earshot.”
I lean forward, palms on my desk as I wrestle with my own magic. Our bloodline is arguably the
most potent, and that makes our magic difficult to control at best and deadly at worst.
Kral does nothing to help absorb the magic threatening to burst through me, and I have a feeling he
wants to watch me lose my temper and leave my office in shreds.
I’m practiced enough to force the magic down. I do have to release a few tendrils with harmless
spells – an adjustment in temperature, a flicker of the lights I power, the extinguishing and relighting
of the candles I burn purely for the scent. Once I’m calm, I turn my attention back to him.
“I have been squashing such accusations, starting with Duke Shomra. The entire theater watched
as I appeared before him, telling him that not only was it not appropriate to gossip about the King–” I
grin, rather proud of this moment. “But it was also traitorous not to bow in his presence.”
Kral howls with laughter now that I have fully explained the situation. While ripping apart a
man’s tendons and cartilage sounds harsh, to know I made his kneecaps vanish so he was forced to
fall to the ground before me because of the way he talked about my family is quite amusing.
I might be level-headed, but I am still a force to be reckoned with. And it’s been so long since I
have been able to let that side of me free.
The wars of our early generations have all but fizzled out. I no longer lead battalions against other
races. I lead meetings where we discuss trivial – albeit important – things like trade and production.
It’s not that I do not appreciate my position. Nor do I abuse it like some of the other Kings.
I just miss the excitement that used to come with it. I’m no longer someone to look up to, to fear
and seek honor from. I’m the head of a royal family that is largely ignored, and even my position has
grown boring.
I want more out of my life than this. I just don’t know where to find it.
“Word will soon spread, brother,” Kral says, breaking me free of my thoughts. “People will
remember how the Ishirayas grew to such a position in the first place.”
I nod my head in agreement, my eyes flicking back to the desk. I had dropped the letter in my hand,
and as I reach for it, I see a word peeking out from the bottom of the stack I must have overlooked.
Pushing the other envelopes to the side, I pull out the one that caught my eye with one word:
Liiandor.
Kral’s gaze burns my skin as he studies my sudden change in expression. “What is it?”
“It’s from Liiandor.”
“The Sorcerer-King?”
I shake my head, flipping it over. “It’s not the weight of his parchment nor the handwriting of his
office. Though he could have gotten a new zagfer…”
My words trail off as I open the envelope and the first words strike me hard.
“I’d be surprised if he was reaching out to you,” Kral jokes, but I am no longer listening. My heart
pounds, nearly blocking out his words as I continue to read. “Given that the last time we were there,
the dinner got so heated the entire table was flipped over and their Archduke left with a healer that
was unable to reset his nose. At least on Liiandor, they do not believe the Ishirayas have gone soft.”
I stiffen as I get to the end of the letter. My eyes track back to the top in disbelief, and my brother
has finally fallen silent, sensing this is more than another political dinner that neither of us wish to
attend.
Though we grow bored with the trivial nature of politics, we have always taken up the mantle of
the royal family with pride.
But not every Ishiraya has…
“Kral,” I croak out, suddenly feeling strangled.
And he must know that there is only one person that would make me react in such a way. “It’s not
Ivahi, is it?”
My gut wrenches just hearing his name out loud.
As children, the three of us were close. Very close. Even though Ivahi is the middle child, neither
of us ever saw him as anything less. He was to be a Prince, not the Crowned Prince, of course. That
was me. But he would have been my closest advisor, someone to help carry the weight.
When he declined the title, and with it, lost his caste and status, that responsibility fell to Kral.
I’ve never regretted that, and I hope he hasn’t either. Even if he refused to take our brother’s title, he
still was by my side through it all.
But Ivahi couldn’t stomach the politics and all that was expected of us. He wanted to be so far
from it that he left the continent, going across the sea to Liiandor, and leaving not just his expectations,
but his brothers behind.
It’s something I don’t think any of us ever moved past. We still visited, but as the years passed,
our visits grew more and more infrequent. I don’t think I have even seen my brother since he first met
his mate.
I even missed his mating ceremony.
I feel sick, and now when the magic surges, I am unable to quell it. It whips out of me, and Kral is
quick to stifle it. I allow myself this one moment of weakness, locked away with my brother, the only
one who could understand how painful this news is.
“Grymlok?”
And with that, I snap back to myself. I am not a man who is easily overcome with emotion, and to
allow such a lapse is beyond me. I have faced worse, and I am sure I will still.
So, I set my shoulders and don a grim expression, readying to weather a storm that would cripple
most. “Ivahi’s dead.”
 2

RORY

“O ff soI’ve
soon?” Anders looks up at me as he finishes pulling the hefty net onto the dock.
already shucked off my one piece uniform, the sun shifting toward the horizon and
telling me that my day is over.
I snort. “You know I’ve been here since well before dawn.”
“Yes.” He swipes the sweat from his brow. “But I’m stuck here until the last ship comes in, and I
hear that one is coming in from Vhoig awfully late. Who am I to talk to until then?”
I let my hair down, working my fingers through the knots that have accumulated over a day of the
wind whipping through the strands. “Maybe you should try actually working every once and a while.”
Anders clutches his chest, feigning heartbreak. “You wound me, Rory.”
“I keep you honest.” I shoot him a wink, and he chuckles. “Have a good night.”
“The same to you.” And then he turns back to his work.
I don’t mind spending my days alongside Anders. He’s a nice enough guy, if a little arrogant, and
he doesn’t let his eyes linger for too long. It’s the best I can hope for, really, on this dreaded island.
Liiandor isn’t known for its fair treatment of women – or humans for that matter. It’s arguably the
most dangerous for us, and that’s why I refuse to work for a dark elf.
On the docks, my overseer is an older male and my coworkers are all human. The dark elves
believe that such back-breaking work is beneath them, and for that, I am grateful. I can take the
occasional abuse of a passing elf over being contracted to them.
Besides, I know those I work with well and in my uniform, thick coveralls that hide my physique,
I feel protected. No one can see my figure, and therefore, I draw less of an eye.
The docks are thinning at this time of day, and I let my feet lead me down the familiar path toward
the human sector of Liiandor. We’re shucked to the side like trash to be forgotten, but I don’t
complain. I prefer as little overlap with the dark elves as I can manage.
When I hit the fork in the road where the better area splits off from the threatening slums, I pause,
though. To the right lies small huts that provide at least some shelter and semblance of true living.
But to the left is mostly trash and disheveled tents. The attacks are worse there than in the city, and
it’s nearly impossible to get through without someone pickpocketing all your belongings.
And that is the way I must go today.
I grind my teeth, not wanting to move. I know I need to get going if I am going to get in and out
before the sun sinks. Even as a frequent visitor, it’s a threatening place for me. But my feet just won’t
move.
“Rory!” I turn to see Rachel smiling at me. She lives near me, and I see her around enough.
 “Rachel.” I force a smile back.
She looks past me, obviously trying to figure out why I am just standing in the middle of the
pathway.
But I am not willing to admit to anyone where I’m headed.
That secret can die with me.
“Any more news?” I cut in, trying to redirect her attention.
Rachel works near the city’s center in one of the shops. She’s one of the few that swears they saw
a winged dark elf flying through at dusk a few weeks ago. That coupled with the rumors that the circus
ringmaster was mutilated by some human-dark elf cross breed has worked Liiandor into a frenzy.
The island has been growing restless lately. Rumors of intense magic and mysterious slaughters –
dark elves, not human – are going around. I’m not sure if our masters are just trying to scare us, but I
think there is more blooming on our little continent than many of us are prepared for.
And that’s fine by me. As much attention as possible needs to stay off me.
“No.” She huffs. “They have forbidden anyone from talking about it! I don’t know what it was, but
the dark elves are completely freaking out about it.”
Maybe if I was less worried about my own problems, I’d be concerned. But right now, I am not
going to focus on something that may or may not be out there. I leave that to Rachel.
“I’m sure that you’ll figure it out.” I pat her on the arm. “I have to be going.” It’s really my way of
shoving her off.
“Oh, right. Well, I’ll see you later Rory.”
I turn like I’m heading back toward the city so she’ll walk home without me. And then, once she’s
far enough away, I double back toward the slums.
Deftly, I pick my way down the side alleys, dodging piles of trash and puddles of liquid I don’t
want to examine too closely. Snores, shouts, and coughing fill the stagnant air, and I try not to inhale
too deeply.
My skin prickles with anticipation, and I’m on high alert as I wait for someone to jump out at me.
Every scuff of a shoe or quiet moan has me twisting and turning until I’m practically spinning down
this dingy pathway.
Finally, I round the corner and see a partially collapsed shack that has my stomach roiling. I
desperately want to stay on this side of the door, but I know that is not an option. I have to hurry,
having already burned so much daylight, and if I get home too late, there will be questions.
Questions I don’t want to answer.
Taking a deep breath – that I regret immediately – I push inside the best I can as the door tries to
fall off the rusty hinges. I sigh as it struggles, both from the lack of care and the trash piled behind it.
The stench here is more concentrated, and I feel nauseous as my eyes scan the room. “You have to
be fucking kidding me.”
Moldy food litters what little countertop there is and is scattered on the floor. Rodans dart away
from the beam of light from the partially opened door, but the bugs don’t move away from their meals.
One step, and something crunches beneath my shoe. Of course. It’s glass.
A few unshattered bottles remain, strewn about among their damaged counterparts. They are all
empty – of course they are – and I sigh as I take it all in.
“One week.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “How does someone do this much damage in one
week?”
Once a week I come to this little shack and I sweep away all the glass and clean up all the trash.
And, like a fool, I leave enough money for food that is then wasted on booze.
 For a while now, I’ve been wondering why I even bother.
That’s probably why I refuse to let anyone know I come here. I can barely convince myself that I
should most weeks, and I most definitely don’t want anyone to see that this is where I started. I’ve
come so far, keeping my head down and working, but I still have her bringing me down.
“Mom!” I shout as I try to pick my way farther into the small area. “M–” A deep sigh falls out of
me as I spot her passed out on the couch. One bruised arm slung over her waning face and her mouth
hung open to reveal rotten teeth.
“Right.”
My jaw nearly cracks with the force I’m applying to it as I turn away to start picking up. I use the
little broom in the corner to knock everything on the floor and sweep it into a pile. I don’t even bother
to bag it before sweeping it into the street. The rodans will eat the food and the broken glass isn’t a
hazard out here.
Once the place is at least manageable again, I dig out a few coins and place them on the counter.
Then, I go to my mom.
“Mom, come on.” I jostle her, not bothering to even try to be gentle. It doesn’t matter anyway.
There’s no telling what’s in her veins right now. “You need to get cleaned up.”
I half haul her into a seated position, but she just slumps back. I’d have better luck waking the
dead right now.
I nearly drag my hand down my face, but then I think better of it after I’ve touched everything in
here.
My eyes go back to the coins. Should I even bother leaving them? She’s not going to use them for
food like she’s supposed to. She’s going to spend it on booze or drugs and continue to waste away
until it kills her.
I’m the only reason it hasn’t yet.
“The curse of being the oldest, right, Mom?” My eyes go back to her, her chest barely rising and
falling. Gods, how did I get here?
No, that’s not the right question. I got here through all my hardwork, keeping my three siblings
alive and helping them find safe jobs once they were old enough.
The question is why am I still here?
My siblings don’t make the trek out here? We’re all old enough for our jobs and homes. They left
their dead weight behind, and somehow I’m still dragging it along for everyone.
But for how long?
I keep telling myself I am helping my mom, but I am enabling her. I’m letting her kill herself. If she
had no money, she’d have to stop.
Right?
My eyes are still on her when I murmur, “I don’t know how much longer I can watch you do this.”
 3

GRYMLOK

“W hat?”It’s the first thing either of us have said after I said those two dreaded words out loud.
Kral had been just as stunned as I, and the confession made it sink in harder for me.
I nod grimly, my eyes darting back down to what I now realize are two letters, not pages of one.
The first line, though, is all I can manage before I have to look away again.
Brother.
It’s a day I knew might come, but I suppose I didn’t think I would outlive my younger siblings.
There isn’t that much of a gap between us, but being the eldest, I never thought it would be me that
would be receiving the news of such a loss.
I weathered the deaths of our parents almost completely alone. I didn’t think the Thirteen would
expect me to shoulder another.
“I don’t even remember the last time I saw Ivahi.” His eyebrows scrunch up, and it almost shocks
me. Most of my life Kral has shown no emotion – to no fault of his own – and even in recent years,
they’ve been reserved exclusively for his family – primarily Amelie and their daughter, but to a lesser
extent, me.
Though his anger is free to fall on anyone.
To see him struggle with loss, something he’s never experienced as he had no access to his locked
away emotions when our parents passed, brings out that protective older brother streak I’ve always
had for Kral and Ivahi.
Just Kral now.
“Six years,” I murmur.
He nods. “A trip to the caverns.” His lips curl along the edges. “All we could do was bicker
about who would start the fires and who would hunt the beasts like we were children. Three days of
nothing but rain and arguing, but it felt good to see him again.” Kral’s voice drops down to a whisper.
“Felt right.”
I nod, the same emotion blooming in my chest. It was the closest we got to being a family again. A
chance we passed up for too many years and have now lost.
He seems to recover as quickly as I did, though. As a royal, especially as an Ishiraya, we do not
dwell on things like this. We are meant for action, for decisiveness. Kral’s childhood is a prime
example of that.
“Is it a request to collect the body?”
I shake my head, flipping to the second page. “He requested to be placed with his mate in
Liiandor.” My eyes land on the same line that I reread four times already. He has left behind two
children. “I’m going to collect his kids.”
Kral frowns. “Kids?”
“Yes. He sent us a letter a couple years back about his kids. A son and daughter, I believe. His
mate had died during childbirth.”
He nods. “That’s right. It didn’t shock either of us that he was a parent.”
Nor did it shock either of us that his mate died giving birth. It’s such a common occurrence for
dark elf women that even Ivahi didn’t seem too shocked. Devastated? Of course, but not surprised.
“They have no one left,” I murmur as my eyes dart along Ivahi’s words. I finally fold up the letter,
setting it aside so that I will focus on something else.
The incredulous look on Kral’s face catches me by surprise, though. “You are going to raise two
young children.”
I scoff. “You’re a father.”
“I have a mate, a life outside of the office.” He gestures around himself. “You lost it on a zagfer
for putting a roll of parchment on the wrong shelf, and you think you can manage children.” The
chuckle that resonates from his chest makes me narrow my eyes.
“I can raise children to be appreciative of organization.” At this, Kral howls. Full fledged, bent
forward laughter that has his body shaking. It makes my magic flare alongside my anger. “Kral!”
He holds up a hand. “Wait! Wait!” He struggles to recover his breath. One look at the indignation
written clearly on my face and he burst out into another fit. “You?” he wheezes. “A father?”
I huff. “A caregiver, yes. I think I did just fine with you!”
“I had literally no emotion, brother! I was easy to subdue!” He shakes his head. “Oh, gods. You
better find them someone better suited.”
I grit my teeth. I know he’s expecting me to ask him, but I refuse. I cannot leave them to fend for
their lives on a place like Liiandor without a parent, and I know that Kral and Amelia are trying for
another child. I will not unburden this responsibility onto him.
Even if his smug face is begging for me to ask him.
“I am the Sorcerer-King,” I snarl. “I’ve led armies into battle. I’ve brought men to their knees. I
rule a major city on the largest continent. I can handle two children.”
Kral shakes his head. “You underestimate them.”
“Maybe you’re too lenient.”
At this, his anger flares. “Don’t you dare.”
“I will say nothing against your daughter.” I hold my hands up. “You know I love her dearly. But
she is strong-willed like her mother, and you find it endearing. Perhaps that’s where your struggle as a
father comes from.”
Standing, he slams his palms on my desk, leaning forward. “If you think that I struggle as a parent,
wait to see where you are lacking.” He grins, so self-assured. “You can steal kneecaps and the vision
of those who disobey you.” Both of which I have done. “But nothing you have ever done will prepare
you for what it is like to be a father.”
I twirl a quill between my fingers as I stare up at his harsh expression. “Is it something you wish
to withhold from me?”
“It’s something I wish to prepare you for,” he snaps, but I can already see the fury melting from
him. He knows I do not think he is a bad father. In fact, I’ve frequently told him how great he is with
Bremi. She adores him, and I’d be lying if I said I haven’t been jealous of his little family more than
once.
 He sinks back, eyes never leaving mine. “They’re going to turn your world upside down,
Grymlok. You can’t just force them to submit to you.”
“I have other methods.” I grin at him.
“Bargaining only gets you so far.”
My lips press into a thin line. I forget how well my brother knows me.
“I’ll have to leave soon,” I say, sitting up to shuffle my desk back into order and shifting the focus
of the conversation. “Liiandor is a far travel, and they have been left in the care of the staff at Ivahi’s
manor–”
“Grymlok.”
I stand from my desk, my back to Kral. “Yes?”
“I understand not wanting the children to be orphaned, but surely there is another way?”
I shake my head. “They are family. We do not leave family behind.”
While I am fiercely loyal to my city and my people, I am even more so to my family. As the eldest,
the protector, I am used to shouldering such a burden.
And Ivahi asked me to.
Brother,
I know that I left Vhoig to escape the politics that were thrust upon us much too young. You
have to understand why I do not wish the same for my kids, but I fear I cannot protect them from
everything.
They have already lost their mother, and I don’t know how to tell them that they will lose their
father soon, too.
I am dying, Grymlok, and there is no one I trust more – with that information or the aftermath
– on this wretched planet than you.
You taught me strength, responsibility, and honor. I wish to pass those traits down to Zyrvi and
Kyvok, and for that reason, and so many more, I must ask one last thing of you.
Please take them.
No one will care for them like their own blood. They share the Ishiraya line, and their magic
will soon grow to dangerous depths. They are strong-willed and curious ones, and they need the
guidance you can provide.
I’m not sure my letter will reach you in time, and I can only hope the Guide will inform me of
what happens to them. I trust you, brother. You will do what is right.
You always have.
Ivahi
“I’m not saying leave them behind–”
I spin around to face my brother. I know that he would take them. I know that I could find a home
and a caregiver and pay for it all. I know that theoretically I have so many options.
Please take them.
In reality, there is only one.
“I expect to be gone for a week. Can you ensure that all royal business is handled during that
time?” My tone is sharp, that of a King.
Kral’s eyes widen for a moment. Rarely, if ever, do I use that on him. He sinks back away from
my desk, pulled to his full height. His body has gone rigid, his emotion masked.
No longer are we two brothers at my home. We are two royals in an office, putting our city above
our hurts.
“Yes. I will take care of everything.”
I dip my head to him. “I leave in the morning.”
 4

RORY

I tie another fishing boat to the dock using the thick, damp rope. With my callused hands, it once
hurt like fire to do this for hours on end a day but years of experience has hardened both my body
and mind. Shit, I stand out prominently from all the other dark elf workers here on the docks who
take breaks as soon as their weak bodies beg for it.
I wipe a pool of sweat from my forehead upon loading a stack of boxes onto a ship for exporting.
I’ve already lost track of how many times I’ve entered and exited these vessels today. I try to ignore
the sun with its heat coming down on the dock ever so relentlessly this afternoon.
“A glass of ice cold water sure sounds delicious right now,” I mutter to myself.
After lifting a heavy box atop a pile to be loaded onto another ship, I glance over my shoulder at a
group of dfam workers. They lounge about with drinks in their hands.
They did nothing at all today to deserve that, I think to myself, knowing I’ve done most of the
work thus far.
It didn’t help that humans working here weren’t allowed a water break when we needed one.
How ironic being that we’re beside the sea, I ponder as I imagine diving into the water to cool
down. When my scheduled break finally does come around, I take a seat on the edge of a quiet
boardwalk, away from the others that earn their living around here.
The sea stretches on though not endlessly, for in the far distance I can see a faint outline of
Kaynvu, a continent dominated by orcs. Sometimes I wonder if life would be fairer under their rule.
The water waves around, rising and falling gently against the beams of the boardwalk. Moss
crawls up the walls beneath me, its color fading from dark green to that of a lighter shade the further
up it ascends.
Closing my eyes for a moment, I take a deep breath, filling my lungs as far as they could inhale.
The scent of the sea envelopes me with its warm, sweet, and salty odor. It's an aroma I’ve long
become accustomed to, serving as one of the few comforts of working here.
That is unless the bodily stench of the dark elves didn’t overpower it first. A small wave splashes
against my feet and shins but it doesn’t bother me. It only serves as comfort for my overheated body.
The shrill caws of mynahs break my attention away from the water. I look over to them where they
circle overhead in a busier section of the docks, no doubt casting hungry eyes on fishing boats
docking into the bay.
They attempt making swoops and dives before being shooed away by the fishing elves, who
themselves get back to work carrying cages of caesin, bigrul, and molusket.
After a minute, some of those fishermen elves start walking away, seemingly finished with their
duties for the day. Two walk over across the boardwalk upon which I sit, murmuring amongst
themselves.
“You saw that ship too, right?”
“Aye, it was bloody magnificent, I’ve never seen a mast stretch that high before. I wonder who
owns it.”
“Whoever it is, must be important.”
They walk off before I can hear anymore of their conversation but it’s enough to get me standing.
Important ship, eh?
I start walking back to my assigned station, hoping to see this apparently magnificent ship there
and get a hand in helping the owner with whatever they needed. Sometimes, sailors of such vessels
had no problem tipping us workers if we lended a helping hand.
It’s not long that I imagine what ship I should be looking out for when there emerges a bowsprit
from behind another boat docked at the bay. As I continue walking forward, a figurehead makes itself
known, golden in color.
Soon, I become enthralled as the entirety of the vessel reveals itself in all its glory. Its hull is a
matte black that refuses to glare a reflection from the sun. The gunport is the same shade of gold as the
figurehead.
All its secondary masts stretch higher than all the other ships here but it's the main mast that
towers high into the sky. I’m unable to see just hope tall thanks to the blinding glow of the sun.
Although I’d never been a sailor, nor had the interest in becoming one, I still knew a striking
vessel when I saw one. It was no wonder why the fishermen elves were standing around in awe of it.
Standing on its boardwalk were two intimidating looking guards, watching over the entranceway
to the ship. Liiandor has more than its fair share of criminal scum but I’d never seen anyone as
imposing as those guards.
“Hey,” I call to a nearby dock worker. “Who does that specimen belong to?”
“Rumor has it that it is a King’s ship from another continent.”
Great, another dark elf corrupt with power.
“Another King? Here on Liiandor?”
“I don’t know for sure but that’s what everyone else is saying,” says the worker before walking
off.
What could another King be doing here? I ponder, staring at the ship from afar. Perhaps visiting
King Ennarmis?
Seeing no chance for me to get through the crowd admiring the ship, I get back to work, unloading
more boats and docking others to the bay. As I look around, I notice all of the dark elves suddenly
working harder than they ever have before.
They’re actually… doing their job?
None of them cause any trouble or try to flirt with me like they usually do, instead shutting their
mouths and helping me get things done. They don’t even hang around to drink when our duties
conclude for the day, rather they break off away from the dock.
That’s when I look around and notice a bizarre lack of dark elves around the docks. There comes
a sudden breeze from the sea, sending a chill from the base of my spine upwards to my back. Freaked
out, I waste no time getting home.
If everyone else is on edge, I best not linger around.
I walk back to my shared house quicker than normal. Only when I open the door does the
unsettling feeling finally dissipate from the air around me. I close the door, twisting the lock with a
satisfying click.
“Rory, is that you?” comes a man’s voice from the kitchen.
“Yes Conor!”
“Come in, we’re just putting on some tea,” calls another person’s voice, this time belonging to a
woman. “Want a cup?”
“Sure, thanks Madeline. I’ll be just a moment.”
I rub my arms, still feeling the after effects of goosebumps as I walk into the kitchen. Seated at the
table are my housemates, two other humans by the names of Conor and Madeline.
“Here,” says Conor, pushing a mug toward me.
“Thanks,” I reply, resting my cold hands on the mug’s warmth.
“So, did any of you guys see that ship down by the harbor today?” asks Madeline.
“I heard it’s a royal ship from Vhoig,” says Conor. “Rory, you work down there, surely you got a
closer look?”
“Not really, there was a swarm of people around it. It was a nice ship but I don’t see the big deal
of a royal visit, no one even knows if it’s true.”
“It’s legitimate, I saw the King it belongs to,” gushes Madeline. “ Guys, you know how much I
despise the dark elves but this one was truly the picture of royalty. He was quite handsome too but the
strangest thing was that he didn’t carry himself like a total asshole.”
“Just a little bit then?” jokes Conor.
“Only the bare minimum required of a royal,” laughs Madeline. “But you ought to have seen him,
he was something else.”
“Can we talk about something else?” I snap.
“What’s your deal?”
“Nothing, I just don’t see what all the fuss is about.”
“I just think he behaved nicely, like he didn’t walk around with a stick up his ass.”
“Okay and? So what if he’s not a dickhead, he’s still just another power hungry dark elf who
could do something about changing the treatment of humans on Protheka, but guess what? I guarantee
he’s just like the rest of them, he’ll do fuck all.”
Conor and Madeline exchange concerning looks at each other.
“You know,” mutters Conor. “For someone who claims not to care about the King’s visit, you sure
are all riled up about it.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I snarl.
“Rory, you should calm down,” whispers Madeline.
I sigh, standing up from the table.
Fuck this, I’m not about to come home from work just to drool over some piece of shit dark elf
King.
Throwing on a cloak, I grab a matchbox as well as a xaishet from Conor’s jacket. I step outside
the front door and lean against the adjacent wall, lighting up the xaishet. Its tip glows orange as the
smoke fills my lungs.
Closing my eyes, I try my best to tune out all the shit wrong in my life as I exhale. Everything in
this damn city from the way we’re treated to my fucked up family only reminds me how horrible my
life is.
All I want is for my mother to get herself together and to not feel like my life is on the line
anytime a dark elf looks at me. Is it all too much for a human like me to ask for?
 5

GRYMLOK

I sit in a carriage led by a pair of equus as I gaze out the window, watching the streets slide by.
Everyone in this city stops as I pass, some glaring with beady eyes whilst others stare in wonder
as if never graced by royalty before.
I almost feel like a bullseye for any potential thieves but they surely know better than to target a
royal figure like me. I’ve already been witness to three muggings and a beating since my arrival. The
ground itself is littered with trash and what I swear to be blood stains.
“This city's a mess…” I mutter to myself. “Does there exist any form of law and order here?”
King Kres Ennarmis… Pft, he should remove ‘King’ from his title if this is how he runs his city.
The carriage finally escapes the attention of the inner city, pulling into a lavish lane lined with
flowers and plants of all sorts. I admire them for a while before the carriage pulls up to a manor, no
doubt belonging to my brother Ivari.
The gates through which we pass shine with a strong glimmer against the reflection of the sun. I
almost wish to stop the carriage just to look at them for a while.
The driver jumps down from his seat and opens my door. I step out into the afternoon air, thanking
the driver before taking in the magnificence of the manor that stands before me.
The white building stands tall, looming high with its dark green roofing. Golden ornaments and
stone statues pepper its exterior. Carvings of worgs sit atop the corners of the roof, looking like
they’re ready to pounce onto a passing target below.
At least there is one thing that is well structured around here!
I break out into a confident stride towards the entrance. As I draw nearer, I imagine being greeted
by the most gracious of zagfer servants, taking me to a dining room where the children await my
arrival at a long table lined with food and beverages.
Yes, that would certainly be fitting for a King.
I reach the front door, taking a deep breath before pushing them open with a powerful force.
Stepping through, I’m hit with a sudden realization that I should never judge a book by its cover.
I stand on a rug torn into three separate pieces, upon which sit shards of broken pottery that have
fallen from their now empty stands. Darting to and fro between rooms in the hallways to my left and
right are mindless zagfer servants, none of whom seem to take any notice of me.
There are two couches on either end of the foyer. The cushions are destroyed with fluff littered all
about them and springs protruding outwards. As I grimace at them, I’m suddenly with a foul stench.
“What is that smell?” I exclaim, looking around to see brown marks on the wall.
Are those stains from… No, surely not…
 Paintings hang upon the walls, somehow untouched by the madness.
Just ahead of me is a wide staircase that has seen better days. Its carpet is creased and torn in
several places, with muddy boot marks trampled all about. It reminded me of the dungeons back on
Vhoig.
Just then, an imbecile zagfer wanders out into the foyer.
“You there!” I call to him.
He freezes as though my glare has arrested him in place.
“Come here!”
Wide eyed, the zagfer cautiously approaches like I’m an enemy.
“By the Thirteen, what is going on here?”
“Hello sir,” he greets quietly, nervously darting his pupils around. “May I ask who you are?”
I bow to him, not out of respect but out of instinct. It’s not like he deserves the former.
“I am King Grymlok Ishiraya of Vhoig, Ivahi is- was my brother.”
“Oh! That’s right,” mutters the zagfer.
“Now explain to me just exactly what all of this is? My brother dies and this is how you treat his
property? I ought to have you and the other zagfer wrung out for such negligence.”
The zafger cowers as I shake my fist at him.
“I can explain, Your Highness!” he protests, throwing his hands up. “Ever since the passing of
Ivahi, we’ve had no official orders to follow. As a result, we’ve lost our sense of duties for this
establishment.”
“That’s putting it lightly,” I snarl.
“B- But we have been looking after the children!”
“I highly doubt it, look around you, do you think this is a suitable place for raising a child, let
alone two of them?”
“I… I…”
As the zagfer stumbles over his words, I’m already contemplating what punishment is best for him
as well as the rest of the staff.
Even if Ivahi and I never had the closest of relationships, he does not deserve this level of
disrespect!
More of the servants begin to notice my arrival, stopping in the hallways to look at me from afar.
The thought of execution itself crosses my mind for these fools when there comes a sudden commotion
from atop the staircase.
Looking up, I spot a barrel rolling down at full speed. From it, there comes screaming and
shouting. I step out of the way just in time but the zagfer servant is not so lucky. The barrel hits him,
sweeping him off of his feet as he hurdles to the floor.
He lands with a bang so loud that I’m sure he’s broken something. I glance over my shoulder at the
barrel. From it, two children emerge as they struggle to climb to their feet. They fall down to the
floor, rolling around in laughter.
The smaller of the two is a boy, no more than two years old. He wears shoulder-length white hair,
unkept and messy. He looks up at his sibling with black eyes and an adorable smile. Small freckles sit
upon his cheeks. From the crazed look on his face, I can already tell he’s going to be a handful.
The older sibling rises to her feet. Though she looks to be a four year old, she stands like a full
grown adult, sticking out her chin as though she’s about to issue a command. She wears long platinum
hair styled into a single braid. Her eyes are blue like the sea and wears a set of distinct dimples on
her cheeks.
 “Zyrvi!” exclaims the boy before muttering gibberish.
“Want to do that again Kyvok?” asks the sister, met with an enthusiastic nod from her younger
brother.
They’re about to sprint away before I call them.
“You two!” I yell, startling them. “Come over here.”
Zyrvi recoils, raising her brows as if I’ve personally insulted her. Kyvok on the other hand, comes
strolling over, giggling as he does so. He stops right in front of me, peering up at me like a batlaz
puppy.
I’m so distracted that I don’t even notice Zyrvi by my side until she stomps her foot down
aggressively. I snap to her, seeing her stand there with her hands on her hips.
“What do you want?” she hisses.
“Hello children, your names are Zyrvi and Kyvok, am I correct?”
“Duh!”
“What- Uhm, I…”
“Come on, we don’t have all day, Kyvok and I want to get back to playing!”
“Do you know who I am?” I ask, drawing myself up.
“No… obviously…”
What have I gotten myself into?
“King!” yells Kyvok.
“Yes, that’s right,” I say, smiling at the boy. “I am your uncle, King Grymlok.”
“Okay? And?” grunts Zyrvi.
Flustered, I stand there peering down at the girl with my mouth gaping open. From the corner of
my eye, I see zagfer whispering into each other’s ears and laughing. Zyrvi looks up at me defiantly,
impatiently tapping her foot.
So, looks like these two were the ones running the show here…
“Why are you here?”
“I’m here to take you back home with me.”
“But we are home.”
I glance around me, reconsidering my decision for a moment until a visual reminder of the
manor’s condition sets me straight.
“I’m afraid this place is no longer safe for you children,” I tell them in a kind tone. “It doesn’t
seem to be holding up after your Dad passed away.”
At the mention of her father, Zyrvi casts a downward gaze, her brows crossed in what seems to be
a mixture of anger and sadness.
“I’m sorry your Dad is no longer-”
“Don’t talk about him,” she snaps.
“Daddy…” whispers Kyvok.
He looks around curiously before his eyes land on a portrait of Ivahi. I glance between the two
children, feeling their pain before kneeling down to their level.
“I loved your father very much, he was my brother too, you know,” I whisper, putting a hand on
each of their shoulders. “I think it’s best you two come with me. I promise to look after the both of
you, you can still have your playtime at your new home.”
Zyrvi looks to Kyvok concerningly. As he glances back, I suddenly see in him my now deceased
brother. As I study the boy, it hits me that he is the spitting image of Ivahi at his age, a fact that makes
my heart ache even more than it currently is.
 Despite the attitude presented by the children, I feel a connection to them, a sense of duty that they
are now practically my own children. Through their eyes, I feel the presence of their parents, my
brother and his mate.
I’ll take care of them, don’t you worry Ivahi.
“Will you please go pack your things?”
“Fine but I’m not happy,” declares Zyrvi.
She grabs her brother and leads him up the staircase. As they ascend, Kyvok looks over his
shoulder at me, waving his small hand. I wave back as I rise to my feet. When they disappear, I
suddenly hear the words of Kral echo in my head.
Are you sure you’re making the right choice?
I feel confident in my decision but I knew to expect chaos from them, especially Zyrvi. I pray I’m
prepared for parenthood.
 6

GRYMLOK

W e finally climb out of the carriage after a trip back to the inner city akin to fighting orcs. I
hand the disgruntled driver his payment as well as a very generous tip, mostly due to Kyvok
having chewed his seats apart. Now I know who was responsible for the couches in tha
manor.
On top of the boy’s antics is the endless questioning from his sister. Zyrvi interrogates me as if
I’m a wanted criminal, repeating the same questions when she runs out of new ones. Never have I felt
as drained as I do now, dragging the kids towards the sea port.
That was just a half hour’s ride in the carriage, how am I ever going to survive a full length
boat ride with these two?
I remind myself of my promise to Ivahi, swallowing my worries as we walk through the streets.
People stand out of the way as they see me approach. From the corner of my eye, I catch Zyrvi
glancing around before looking straight toward me.
Please, can’t I just get a moment’s peace without your questions?
“So, who are you exactly?”
“For the sixth time…” I mutter with twitching eyes. “I am King Grymlok, your father’s brother. I
rule over Vhoig of Oshta.”
“Oh, that place,” she retorts.
“What?”
“Father always talked about how bad and ‘political’ that place was.”
“Did he, now? Well, that’s where your new home will be.”
I feel a tugging on my right arm, peering down at Kyvok. He pulls my arm again. I hoist him up to
rest on my shoulder.
“Why do you dress like that?” asks Zyrvi, grabbing the end of my blue robes.
Before I can answer, a sudden burst of pain ignites across the side of my face, courtesy of Zyvok’s
teeth.
“Hey! That hurts!” I yelp, prying his teeth off of me.
I wag my finger and tap his nose before turning back to Zyrvi.
“I wear them whilst traveling.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean why? I’ve got to be dressed, don't I?”
“But why don’t you wear normal clothes like everyone else here?”
“Well, it’s important that people know they’re in the presence of a King when I’m around.”
 “Ahhh,” mutters a satisfied Zyrvi.
Finally, now I can enjoy some peace-
“It sounds to me like you’re trying to show off.”
“What?”
“Some people here aren’t rich like you, you don’t have to be mean by rubbing it in their faces, you
know. It’s like when I have a better toy than my brother, I don’t show it off in front of him.”
I can’t win this fight.
Speechless, I keep my mouth shut as the harbor comes into view. Just then, I feel a tugging from
Zyrvi.
“I’m hungry!”
“Me too!” adds Kyvok, eyeing a fruit stand as we pass it by.
“Children, we’ll eat later on.”
“I want to eat now!” protests Zyrvi, pointing to a nearby restaurant.
“There’s better food on the ship,” I say calmly.
“Wait, did you say ship?”
“Yes, how do you think I got here?”
“Ugh, how long is the journey to Vhoig?” she groans.
“A few days. It’s a long distance away.”
She starts stomping her feet aggressively in protest. It takes every ounce of strength left in me to
remain composed.
Don’t resort to their level, tantrums are for children… That’s all they are, just children!
It’s then that I realize I’m being bullied and pushed around by a pair of them. I’m too drained to
even reprimand them. I have dished out punishments to many a zagfer before but the mere creature that
was a child did nothing but baffle me.
Just ignore her, she’s trying to get in your head. You’ve got to be the dominant one here, show
your assertiveness…
“Children, you will behave!”
Zyrvi casts a sidelong glance at me, clearly unimpressed before muttering something unintelligible
to her brother. They start conversing loudly in a language I don’t quite understand, coupled with
occasional giggles that I guess to be at my expense.
What are they talking about? I ask myself as I listen closer.
It almost sounds like… Orcish? Spoken by dark elf children?
“I’ve just about seen it all…”
After another few soul-sucking minutes dragging the children through the city, I make it back to the
docks. It’s there that Kyvok demands to be set down. I happily oblige but make sure to get an iron grip
on his hand first.
The ship is still some distance away so I begin muttering to myself that I can catch a break if I can
just last a little longer. As we begin walking along the pier, Zyrvi starts dragging her feet along the
ground, anchoring herself down like she’s one of the boats.
“What are you doing now?”
“I’m tired,” she groans.
“Do you want me to carry you then?” I offer.
“Ew, no!”
A bursting pain ignites through the front of my head, something she seems to catch as
she smirks while I grimace in agony. Just then, Kyvok suddenly begins to flail about. He’s the
closest to the water which I guess to be the reason why he’s getting so rampant.
This is what being a parent of two must feel like, I think with one child thrashing around and the
other acting as dead weight.
I grip Kyvok’s hand tighter, afraid he’s going to jump into the water. Passers-by try to hide their
laughter, probably afraid of punishment if they laugh at a royal figure. In a rare instance, I’m jealous
of the ones who bear no children with them.
Below the deck upon which we walk, fishermen elves are docking their boats to the port. In their
small sailboats are cages filled to the brim with fresh catches of caesin, molusket, and ter. Some stray
catches have escaped through the cages, wandering about for a way back to the water.
Zyrvi stops in place, audibly gasping as she peers down at the sea animals. Just then, Kyvok
breaks free from my grip. For a moment, my life flashes before my eyes with the quickness of his
movements.
A relief comes over me when he goes only to join his sister’s side. I rub my temples as the pain
starts to spread.
Get it together Grymlok, you’re the one in charge.
“Children, we must keep moving. Each of you come and take my hand.”
“No, I want to look at all the caesin!” protests Zyrvi, throwing her hands to her hips.
“Me too!” adds Kyvok, mimicking her.
“We don’t have time for this, there’s a long journey ahead of us.”
“Uncle, do you ever go fishing?” asks Zyrvi.
“No.”
“You don’t like caesin?”
“I do, I just-”
“So why don’t you go fishing?”
“Well, I uhm… have others who catch it for me.”
“Oh…” she mutters, sounding aloof.
“Hey now, they’re just like these men , it’s their job to do so.”
“But you’re a King, aren't you?”
“Yes but you see, we-”
“And you’re an adult?”
“Do I look like a child to you?” I retort.
“Sounds like you’re the one who needs caring for, that’s all I’m saying.”
I go to speak but words fail to come out. Resigned, I let out a long sigh.
This is too much for one person, I ought to have brought a helper along. Alas, it’s too late for
that now.
As the children gaze and ponder at the fishing boats, Kral’s words come back to me, where I can’t
help but now think I should have heeded his advice about thinking this through. I didn’t expect for my
brother’s children to be the ones calling the shots.
By now, I’m lucky if I have even the slightest hint of sanity left in my soul. Why was it I could
successfully rule over a third of an entire continent but not over two measly little fiendish children? I
walk over to them, grabbing them both by their hands.
“Come on, Uncle Grymlok has loads of nice things for you to see onboard the ship, would you
like that?” I ask with a smile.
“You don’t have to speak to us like we’re children,” snarls Zyrvi.
“I will for that is what you are.”
 She crosses her brows in anger then snaps to Kyvok, muttering something to him. Suddenly, he
sinks his teeth into my hand. Yelping, I pull it back, giving him the chance to make a run for it.
“Kyvok, get back here right this instant!” I yell.
Beside me, I hear Zyrvi’s mocking snicker.
“Hmm, some control you have for a King…”
“Tell your brother to come back!” I order.
“Are you admitting you can’t tell us what to do?”
Grunting, I pull her along as I scan the area for Kyvok. Near the merchant stands, I spot a flurry of
movement along the ground. I drag Zyrvi closer trying to get a better look while shouting her brother’s
name aloud.
It’s then that I see Kyvok scurrying along the ground like a rodan, my eyes widening in horror as
he makes a beeline straight for a vendor’s stand. I break into a sprint, whisking Zyrvi off her feet as I
pray to catch Kyvok in time before he wreaks havoc.
 7

RORY

L iiandor is windy today.

The stench of caesin and elf spirits hangs heavily in the air.
Liiandor is not exactly my favorite place to work, not that I have experience anywhere else.
The air is always acrid, and I am constantly getting caesin guts all over my clothes.
I suppose it’s unavoidable.
The sun hangs high in the sky, and the light is hot and sharp.
I wipe sweat away as I continue lugging heavy crates of caesin across the ports.
The only thing I like about Liiandor is being close to the ocean.
From where I stand, I can see the ocean stretching on forever and ever. The water is dark and it
looks dangerous.
I will never venture too close to the edge of the piers, but at least I get to inhale the salty ocean
water.
That does make up for the stink of caesin at least.
I hear it then – the sounds of child-like laughter.
The laughter of children is not something I hear often. This child sounds genuinely joyful – and
most people here aren’t very happy.
The sound of the bubbling, bell-like laughter drags my mind back into the past, suddenly,
aggressively.
I am frozen in time, as memories of the past flit through my mind.
Memories of when my family used to be happy. Memories of my brothers and sisters laughing.
But the memories fall away quickly.
A particularly strong wind lifts the ocean then. The water twists and sprays through the air.
The laughter bubbles up behind me again as everyone on my side of the port is drenched with
water.
I turn then, out of curiosity more than anything else, to see a little dark elf child behind me.
He is running around in circles, singing at the top of his lungs, and not looking where he is going.
Another, sudden, memory flashes through my mind.
A memory of my younger sister nearly careening into a wagon, as she did the same thing as the
dark elf child now.
I saved her from being crushed underneath the wheels of the wagon by a hair's breadth, and I jump
into action now too.
The little boy, a slip of a thing really, is looking up at the sky, while running forwards.
 And he is headed straight for a vendor’s cart.
Where she will surely go careening into the sharp edge of the vendor’s cart, and hurt himself
terribly.
I rush forward and grab him by the waist just before he can impale himself on the sharp edge of
the cart.
I am breathless, gasping, as I lift him into the air.
“You should look where you’re going little one!” I gasp at him as he kicks, and tries to get away
from me.
He laughs raucously as I put him on the ground.
Then I place my hands on both his shoulders and look at him seriously.
“No more running on docks, ports, piers, or anywhere close to sharp implements, okay?”
My voice is solemn, but it does not reach the child.
He continues to giggle at me.
I see then, several paces away from us, a dark, shadowy figure.
When I look up, a tall, dark elf is looking down at myself and the child.
His child, I presume.
The dark elf takes several quick steps towards me and grabs the child up into his arms.
After a minute, he puts the child down heavily, and clings to the elf boy’s hand.
Then he turns to me.
I take a step back, completely resigned about the tongue-lashing I am about to get.
“I am so sorry!” The breath leaves my body in a gush. “Did he hurt you? Did he disturb your
work?”
I blink as I take in what he said.
Surely I am dreaming.
Did a dark elf just apologize to me?
“Uhm,” I say dumbly. I cross my arms over my chest. “It’s no problem. He was no trouble at all.”
“Thank you for helping him.” The dark elf says earnestly. His eyes are wide – with panic, I think.
“I saw him run off, but I have my hands full now.”
“Are you his father?” I ask, and immediately regret the question.
What in the gods is wrong with you? I berate myself instantly.
But the elf does not seem to find the question intrusive.
“No, I am his uncle. I just became the sole guardian of my niece and nephew.”
I examine him more closely then.
The dark elf is quite handsome – for an elf. He has long, platinum colored hair.
And his clothing. His clothing is beautiful.
I can tell that he is wearing real silk and leather. His shirt is made of the finest silk. The dark blue
cape that he wears is made of real, soft wool.
His boots are leather; leather so real and perfect that it is a sin that he is standing in a pool of
caesin blood.
Whoever this dark elf is, he comes from a good family. He is probably of the highest caste in the
land too.
I take another step back and swallow convulsively as I do.
I notice something else about him then.
There is a girl, probably a few years older than the boy, and she is hiding behind the dark elf.
But she also clings to his hand fiercely.
 Maybe she has decided that I am not a threat because she comes out from behind his legs.
“Uncle!” Her voice is demanding. At least she is living up to the reputation of dark elf women
from a young age. “Let go of me! This instant!”
Her voice is shrill and tinny, and she stamps her foot angrily to make her point.
“No Zyrvi! You’ll hold my hand as long as I tell you to!” His voice is stern, but caring.
I bend down then, and get to the little girl’s level.
And from the pockets of my jacket, I pull some candy.
I was keeping the candy for myself as a snack. I bought it this morning from a vendor on the far
side of the port.
I hand a piece of candy to the little girl, and another to the boy. They both fall quiet instantly as
they figure out how to open the candy.
I rise then, and look up at their uncle.
“If you keep a piece or two of candy on you at all times, you’ll always have happy children. But
don’t make them too accustomed to it though.”
“Why not?” There is real curiosity in the elf’s voice. I feel very sorry for him in that moment.
He clearly has no experience with children. I doubt he has ever held a child properly before.
“Because if children are addicted to sugar, that will lead to a lot of problems in future.”
I do not know when I gained this knowledge, but it is something that everyone knows.
Everyone except this dark elf.
But then, he probably has people to raise his children.
The dark elf sticks his hand out then.
“I am Grymlok. What is your name, human?”
I take his hand slowly.
“My name is Rory.”
I quickly take my hand from his, though I cannot help but notice how large and strong his hands
are.
I push my hair out of my face.
“I should really get back to work.” I say to the dark elf.
He says nothing, but continues to look at me with his dark eyes. I don’t think I want to turn my
back on him.
If he is an elf of a high caste, then I certainly do not want to disrespect him.
Humans have enough trouble with the dark elves as it is.
Particularly human women.
So I wait, and let him stare at me, no matter how uncomfortable it makes me.
But I realize quickly enough that he is not exactly staring at me. He is… examining me, I think.
I cock my head to the side and look back at him just as unabashedly.
I cannot help but think that the dark elf – Grymlok – has a nice face. And he is clearly a good
person. For an elf.
He clearly cares deeply for these children, even if he has no experience with them.
Grymlok takes a step towards me then.
“I have a job for you.” His voice is darker, deeper. The tenderness with which he spoke to the
children is gone.
“Are you willing to take it?”
I freeze in place and I stop breathing as the words replay in my mind over and over again.
There is only one job that dark elves want human women for.
 They usually only offer human women jobs as sex slaves.
And even then, it isn’t exactly a fair job.
You get room and board, sure. And you get a little money. But the work you do is not really all
that pleasant.
Dark elves are not known for their kindness to humans.
They are known for their brutality towards their sex slaves.
Please, I say in my head. Please don’t let him want me in his bed with my legs spread.
 8

GRYMLOK

T he human – Rory – is friendly. Charming even.

So when I ask the question – the question that might save my life – I notice right away as her
body stiffens.
Her face changes too. She presses her lips into a thin line, and she swallows several times.
Her bright, pretty green eyes darken, harden.
She is afraid of me.
Rory takes a step back from me, and then another.
I had better explain myself quickly if I want her to take this job.
“I am new to having children,” I say, my voice matter-of-fact. “I need help. All the help I can get.”
I watch her body soften, relax, and the tension melts from her shoulders.
She is quite beautiful, I think distractedly.
Too beautiful to be working on this godsforsaken port.
But then I push the unbidden thoughts away. Including the thoughts that the fact that she is so
beautiful helps me feel better about hiring her.
“Listen,” I say. I need to convince her. This is the first time that the children have been quiet since
I got them. I need her.
“You’ll get a generous salary, a reasonable amount of time off, and an entire suite in the house to
yourself.”
Her green eyes light up as I explain everything I am willing to give her in return for her services.
I look at her more closely then.
She is thin, unhealthily so.
Her body is clearly the way that it is because she works too hard and eats too little.
Her collarbones stick out sharply, and her cheeks are slightly hollow.
None of this takes away from her beauty, but still, it worries me.
You shouldn’t worry about her. She is nothing but a human. I speak sternly to myself.
“Well, if you are serious about this, I should tell you more about myself.”
“Let us walk and talk.” I tell her. I lift Kyvok with one arm, and hold on firmly to Zyrvi with my
free hand.
We start walking away from her workplace.
“I am the oldest of four children. I basically raised them.” She begins. “I am pretty good at
dealing with naughty kids.”
She laughs slightly.
 Her eyes are much brighter, and she looks a lot more comfortable than she did before.
“Where were your parents?” I hope the question is not too personal.
I am very interested in the human – Rory – for some reason that I do not understand.
“My parents were both addicts. My mother still is. My father died a long time ago. The drink
killed him.”
Her voice cracks slightly on the last two words.
She is trying to sound strong. But it is clear that her father’s death still affects her.
“And where are your siblings now?” We are close to the ship that I will take to Vhoig.
“They are all grown up,” she sounds happier again. “They are all independent, so they do not
need me anymore.”
We stop walking then.
She turns to face me.
When I look at her, her eyes are shining.
She is proud of her siblings. So proud of them that it shines from every pore of her body.
“So, will you take this job?” I ask her. We have started walking again.
Rory nods enthusiastically.
“I am so pleased,” I exclaim. “Our ship is right here. We can leave soon.”
“A ship?” Her face blanches instantly.
“Yes,” my voice is matter of fact. “I live in Vhoig. And we need to leave soon.”
“I- I can’t just leave.” Rory stutters.
“I hate ships!” Zyrvi stamps her foot, and tries to pull her hand out of mine, with little success.
I bend down then and look Zyrvi in the eye.
“Never interrupt when adults are talking.” I tell her sternly.
“What does interrupt mean?” She asks me innocently. But the wicked glint in her eye is enough to
tell me that my brother already taught her the meaning of the word.
“Why can’t you just leave?” I ask Rory. Anxiety grows inside me as I think about leaving without
her.
I need her.
I do not think that I will find a more capable caretaker for the children anywhere else.
“If I want to say something, I’ll just say it!” Zyrvi shouts at the top of her voice.
I sigh heavily, and then look at Rory again.
Surely she must see the desperation in my eyes.
I think that she does because she pauses. Her sigh, when she sighs, is equally deep.
“I need to pack some things first. And that means that I have to go home.” She says.
“That’s fine. We’ll take the next ship out to Vhoig.” I tell her.
“Okay, well I’ll need to find a wagon going out of town first. I live quite a ways from here.”
“That is no problem,” I say right away. “I have a carriage that we can take there. I’ll even wait for
you.”
Her eyes widen, and I realize how poor she must be then.
For some reason, the knowledge does not sit well with me.
Someone who looks like Rory should not experience any form of poverty.
Even if she is just a human.
Her red hair glints in the sunlight, and I am mesmerized by it. The soft red tresses are the only part
of her that look healthy.
Her hair is thick and shiny, and when she stops in front of me, I catch the scent of her hair.
 Her hair smells like the rirzed herbs that grow in copious amounts all over Protheka.
I swallow slightly and step away from her, adjusting Kyvok’s weight on my arm.
I keep a tight hold on Zyrvi who has been quiet for a while.
I have not known Zyrvi for a very long time, but I know that her being quiet is not a good sign.
But I cannot focus on that now.
“So,” I speak to Rory, my voice clear. “I can take you home with my carriage now. You can pack,
you can say goodbye to your family, and we can be back here in no time.”
She swallows then, and her anxiety is clear to see on her thin face.
Her green eyes flash as she thinks. It is clear that she is uncertain about what to do.
“Listen,” I tell her, and take a step closer to her. “You will be able to see your family whenever
you take a break. You’ll have unlimited writing supplies to write to them. I will also try to get them to
come over on my ship.”
“Your ship?” Her eyes widen even further.
“Yes,” I gesture at the vessel. “This is my ship.”
She nods, her eyes glassy.
“Fine,” she murmurs. “I’ll go with you.”
I lead her to my carriage. My manservant sits in front, and he holds control of the reins that attach
the four equus to the carriage.
I first place the children in the carriage, and I do not miss the way Rory slips them both another
piece of candy.
Then I help Rory get in, after she has given my manservant instructions.
I get in after her.
I realize, as we drive through Liiandor, that it is quite an ugly place to live in.
It is surrounded by high, sharp, jagged rock formations that rise out of the sea.
There is nothing much to look at, and it is quite dry.
How could anyone live here? I think this to myself as the carriage bumps over unsteady terrain.
I think of Vhoig then. It is not perfect, but it is certainly more lively than Liiandor.
Liiandor is not really important. But it is on the way to everywhere important.
My manservant stops in a small village. We stop at the edge of the village, near an extremely
ramshackle little house.
“You live here?” I try to keep my voice neutral.
Everyone in the village has come out of their house to look at the carriage. They are all humans, of
course, and their children point at the carriage with wonder in their eyes.
“Yes,” I must not have concealed my disgust enough because Rory looks at me with hard eyes. “I
live here.”
Then she hops out of the carriage and disappears into the house.
“Uncle, I like her.” Zyrvi says confidently.
“That’s good. She’s going to help me look after you.”
“I don’t want you to look after me,” Zyrvi scoffs. “I just want her.”
“Whatever you say little one,” I say wearily. I just hope that I have done the right thing. “I just
hope that I have made the right choice for you and your brother.”
“You like her too!” Zyrvi announces, loudly enough that the entire road can hear us.
“How do you know?” I ask Zyrvi, with amusement in my voice.
“I just can tell.”
“Okay then little one.”
 Zyrvi goes quiet then. She buries her face in her hands and her shoulders shake.
“I miss my daddy.” She whispers, then wipes her tears away and sits up straight.
“I know darling,” I whisper to her. “I miss him too. You can cry.”
“No,” she says fiercely. “I must be strong. That is what he told me before he went away. I must be
strong. Always.”
 9

RORY

“W ow,“Don’t
his carriage is huge.”
stare!” I snap at my sister.
My younger sister is peering at Grmylok’s carriage through the window. And she is not being
inconspicuous about it.
I am trying to pack, but my siblings are making it nearly impossible.
They – my three siblings that had come by like they normally do on Tuesdays – noticed my arrival
before I even got into the house. I think everyone did.
I groan internally as I think about the gossip that will be flying around.
You won’t be here to listen to the gossip, I tell myself sternly.
Then I stuff some more clothes and a few keepsakes into my bag.
“Imagine you, going from working at the ports to being the nanny for a dark elf of that stature. I
wonder who he is?”
This comes from my other sister. I do not miss the hint of bitterness in her voice.
I knew right away that things would be like this.
This is the kind of job she would have wanted. Never mind the fact that she would never set foot
on the docks, and hates children.
“You’re going to be earning well then.” My youngest sister says.
“I suppose so,” I say stiffly. I know that I will be, and I am looking forward to it. “But that doesn’t
matter.”
“Of course it does,” my younger brother says scornfully. “You’re going to be looking after the
children of an important dark elf.”
“Well, good luck.” The three of them say in unison as I finally finish packing.
“Are you sure this is not some kind of ploy to turn you into a sex slave?” My youngest sister asks
anxiously.
Her question stops me in my tracks.
Could this actually be an entire plot to get me to be Grymlok’s sex slave?
Dark elves are tricky, that is what they are best known for, after all.
My life flashes before my eyes as I think about the fact that I was about to blindly trust this dark
elf.
I was about to let him just whisk me away to another city, and I might never see my siblings again
after this.
And as much as they got on my nerves, I actually do love them.
 But then I remember the pure desperation in Grymlok’s eyes, as he tried to control his niece and
nephew.
There is no faking that.
In that moment, I knew that Grymlok had never had to look after a child before.
And what kind of creep uses children to pick up sex slaves?
Besides, I doubt someone who looks like Grymlok needs a sex slaves. He is handsome enough on
his own to get any woman he wants.
I push the thought away right away. These are not the kinds of thoughts I should be having.
“I’ll be fine,” I say to them. I hug each one of them then. “You all be careful. And you’ll hear from
me all the time. Don’t worry.”
Then I face them.
“Listen, about mum.” I start speaking. Each of my siblings stiffen up at the subject of our mother.
“Don’t let her walk all over you so that she gets what she wants okay?”
If I had time to beg them I would.
‘We’ll try,” my brother says. “And you be careful around the dark elves. They cannot be trusted as
far as you can throw them.”
“Don’t worry about me,” I say, as I smile grimly. “I can throw pretty far.”
“It isn’t a joke Ro,” my youngest sister says. “We’re really worried about you.”
“I know you are. And I promise that I’ll get out of there at the first sign of trouble. Okay?”
They nod in unison, and I heft my bag onto my shoulder.
With one last, one-armed hug, I say goodbye and walk out of the house.
The street is lined with my neighbors who are all gawking at the huge carriage.
The dark elf that is driving the carriage sits with his face up to the sky, as if he doesn’t want to be
caught looking at the humans.
His face is completely devoid of emotion, and I wonder if he is one of those dark elves who
thinks that humans are dirty.
Grymlok might be one of those dark elves, I say to myself.
Then he would not let me near his children, I retort sternly.
Grymlok gets out of the carriage for the first time, and every one of my neighbors gasps out loud.
He takes my bag and helps me into the carriage.
My siblings haven’t left the house, but I see my youngest sister standing in the window.
I don’t miss the mutters and whispers.
I hear the word ‘whore’ spoken over and over again. It is spoken quietly but it is audible,
nonetheless.
It is clear what they think of me, and I shudder to think of the treatment that my siblings will have
to endure.
Grymlok’s driver urges the equus forward, and the carriage starts moving.
When I look at the children, I see that they have both fallen asleep.
Kyvok is asleep with his head in Zyrvi’s lap, and she is leaning on the side of the carriage with
her eyes closed.
Her eyelids flutter as she sleeps, and I wonder what kind of dream she is having.
A good one, I hope.
I am sitting quite close to Grymlok, and I have never been more aware of him than in that moment.
The carriage is built for his height and weight, but I only notice how truly tall he is now that I am
sitting right next to him.
 I shift slightly away from him, even though it means I am pressing my body against the side of the
carriage, which is hot from the sun.
“Traveling to Vhoig won’t be that long,” Grymlok says conversationally. We have left my village,
and we are driving back to the ports. “And since the ship is mine, we’ll have lots of space.”
“That sounds nice,” I reply, my voice nonchalant. “I’ll try and keep the children occupied during
the journey.”
Grymlok sighs with relief.
“You do not know how good it is to hear that.” He says, his tone surprisingly open. “I have no
idea where to start with them.”
“It’s okay,” I say awkwardly. “That’s why I’m here.”
We get to the ports in record time.
Grymlok’s driver takes my bag and helps me out of the carriage, though he barely touches me.
Grymlok lifts both the children effortlessly into his arms, and luckily they do not wake.
He’s strong, I’ll give him that, I think to myself as I eye his tall, muscular figure.
I drag my eyes away from him and look at the ship in front of us.
It is huge – maybe three stories tall – and towers over us.
The ocean is unstable today, and the winds are high.
And even though the vessel is clearly well-built, and probably powered by some kind of dark elf
magic, I still gulp at the thought of going on it.
I may work on the ports, but I do not have to like the ocean to do that.
This is it, I tell myself. These are your last few moments in Liiandor for the foreseeable future.
I turn to look around me.
Everyone, human and elf, is looking at us as we depart.
I know they’re curious about the fact that a human woman is going away with a clearly esteemed
dark elf.
And I know that they are only thinking one thing about me.
They are thinking the same thing that my neighbors were thinking.
They are thinking that I have agreed to be Grymlok’s whore.
The thought rankles, but I have to push it away. The only thing that matters is that I know what I am
doing with Grymlok.
Anyone else’s opinion does not matter.
When I look away from the stares, I see that we are being helped onto the ship.
The children have woken, and Grymlok is stumbling over himself trying to get them on the ship
without hurting anyone.
Well my girl, I tell myself. Your job starts now.
I march forward and take hold of the children who immediately fall silent.
They probably hope I’ll hand them another piece of candy.
Grymlok takes my bag and walks up behind me.
“Why are your hands so hard?” Zyrvi asks me as we properly step onto the ship.
“Because I have worked very hard.” I tell her absentmindedly, as I look around me with awe.
‘Grand’ does not begin to describe the ship.
It is beautiful, though you would never think that from the outside.
The inside of the ship is decorated in hues of dark red and blue. Chandeliers hang from the
ceiling, with flickering candles swaying precariously in them.
There are dozens of staff on the ship, both dark elf and human, and they jump into action as soon
as they see Grymlok.
Again, Grymlok’s status is obvious. He is clearly a bigshot among the elves.
Or very rich at least.
We get shown to our rooms.
I will be sleeping in the same room as the children.
And I realize, with slight horror, that Grymlok has the room next to mine.
10
 GRYMLOK

T he sea cradles the ship as though it is her child, rocking it back and forth while whispering to it
gently in the form of a light wind. The sky tonight is dim, almost pitch black with barely a speck
of cloud to be seen.
The moon hangs high like a massive white pearl, lonesome tonight without a single star to keep it
company. I almost feel sorry for it as I watch from thousands of miles away, resting on the deck with
Rory as we lean our elbows over the starboard.
As a King, I don’t get much social interaction outside of family meals because my time is eaten up
by meetings and other diplomatic matters. Getting to know Rory hasn’t been as difficult as I thought–
she’s incredibly easy to talk to.
All of our interactions have been pleasant, albeit cut short by the children with their nonstop
troublemaking and demanding. I glance over my shoulder at them, watching as they chase each other
around near the front of the ship.
Though they’ve caused so much turmoil thus far, I feel a sense of pride come over me as their
laughter echoes through the air. I wonder if this is what being a parent is really all about, seeing
children enjoy themselves rather than all the scolding and reprimanding.
“They’re proving to be quite the handful for me,” I say, turning back to face the wavering sea.
“That’s children for you. Seeing them takes me back to when I was taking care of my own
siblings.”
“Did you have to do that for a long time?”
She takes a drag of a xaishet, breathing out a ring of smoke before handing it to me.
“Longer than I thought I’d have to. I always expected my parents to get better from their problems
but of course, that never happened.”
“I’m sorry about that.”
“Don’t be, you’re not the one who robbed me of a normal childhood. At least with these guys, I
can give to them what I never had.”
I look at her from the side of my eye, wondering how someone who has gone through so much shit
can come out as a decent person. Rory had every excuse to shun all hope from the world yet seems to
choose a more noble path. If only Protheka had more people like her.
For a moment, I laugh, wondering if I’m over-admiring her as I haven’t known the woman for
long. She turns, smiling playfully at me with her beautiful lips.
“What is it?” she chuckles.
Just then, Zyrhi’s ear-piercing voice comes from behind us.
 “Uncle, I’m hungry, feed me.”
I turn around with a friendly smile.
“Zyrvi, your evening meal will be ready soon, can you wait until then to eat?”
“No,” she replies, crossing her arms.
“Well,” I sigh. “There’s a few small snacks in the cabin, don’t eat too much so you have room for
dinner.”
“Okay,” she says slyly before slipping away.
A few meters away, I catch Kyvok attempting to climb the main mast.
“Hey Kyvok, get down from there!” I grunt.
He sticks out his tongue before descending. Shaking my head, I turn back to a giggling Rory.
“These children will be the death of me.”
“Well I’ll be there to bring you back to life when you need me.”
She gazes out upon the water. The pale moonlight reflects like glitter in her green eyes. Smoke
from the xaishet rise up, fluttering through the air and dancing between us as we laugh with each other.
The wind begins to die down, allowing me to hear Kyvok’s charge just in time. I turn to glimpse
him running up beside us, his feet coming off the floor in an effort to jump into the water. I stick my
hand out, grasping him at the last second.
“Nice catch,” laughs Rory as I set Kyvok down. “Why don't you go join your sister?”
The young boy smiles sweetly at her before heading inside the cabin. More feelings of admiration
for Rory push to the forefront of my mind. I have no doubt she’ll be a good maternal figure for the
children, she certainly seems to have a hold over them.
She has this energy about her, something so serene and calming, yet respectful so as to not make it
seem like she’s calling all of the shots with them.
“What am I going to do with the kids?” I sigh, looking for the answer on the waters.
“Children have this innate ability to humble even the strictest of adults when they least expect it.
Try not to overthink it.”
“Humbling is putting it lightly. I’ve led battalions of elves into warzones with my tone, yet it
barely makes the children flinch. Instead, I’m the one being bossed around. I don’t know what to do,
should I shout at them?”
“Definitely not unless you wish for them to completely abandon all reason with you. Children are
like anyone else, you have to get them to trust you and like you first. Try getting on their level and then
maybe, just maybe, they’ll come around to you.”
The cabin door swings open, out stepping the siblings wiping their mouths.
“All gone!” beams Kyvok.
“Wait, you ate everything?”
“Uh huh!”
“Dinner hasn’t been served yet, you’ve spoiled your appetites!”
“Quit whining, Kyvok and I will still eat,” retorts Zyrvi.
Rory steps forward, kneeling down to their height.
“What Uncle Grymlok is trying to say is that he asked you not to eat everything, so he’s upset now
that you did. Imagine you were in his shoes, how would you feel?”
Zyrvi looks at me then down at the ground.
“Disappointed…”
“It’s okay, next time can you leave the snacks until dinner?”
“We’ll try,” sighs Zyrvi.
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
distributing a Project Gutenberg™ electronic work under this
agreement, disclaim all liability to you for damages, costs and
expenses, including legal fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO
REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT LIABILITY, BREACH OF
WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE
FOUNDATION, THE TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY
DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE LIABLE
TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL,
PUNITIVE OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE
NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGE.

1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you

discover a defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it,
you can receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by
sending a written explanation to the person you received the work
from. If you received the work on a physical medium, you must
return the medium with your written explanation. The person or entity
that provided you with the defective work may elect to provide a
replacement copy in lieu of a refund. If you received the work
electronically, the person or entity providing it to you may choose to
give you a second opportunity to receive the work electronically in
lieu of a refund. If the second copy is also defective, you may
demand a refund in writing without further opportunities to fix the
problem.

1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth in
paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO
OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED,
INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF
MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.

1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied

warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted
by the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any
provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.

1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the

Foundation, the trademark owner, any agent or employee of the
Foundation, anyone providing copies of Project Gutenberg™
electronic works in accordance with this agreement, and any
volunteers associated with the production, promotion and distribution
of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works, harmless from all liability,
costs and expenses, including legal fees, that arise directly or
indirectly from any of the following which you do or cause to occur:
(a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg™ work, (b)
alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any Project
Gutenberg™ work, and (c) any Defect you cause.

Section 2. Information about the Mission of

Project Gutenberg™
Project Gutenberg™ is synonymous with the free distribution of
electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of
computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.
It exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and
donations from people in all walks of life.

Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the

assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg™’s
goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg™ collection will
remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a
secure and permanent future for Project Gutenberg™ and future
generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help,
see Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at
www.gutenberg.org.
 Section 3. Information about the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit
501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification
number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws.

The Foundation’s business office is located at 809 North 1500 West,

Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up
to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s website
and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact

Section 4. Information about Donations to

the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
Foundation
Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without
widespread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can
be freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the
widest array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small
donations ($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax
exempt status with the IRS.

The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating

charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and
keep up with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in
locations where we have not received written confirmation of
compliance. To SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of
compliance for any particular state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate.

While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where

we have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no
prohibition against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in
such states who approach us with offers to donate.

International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make

any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.

Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation
methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of
other ways including checks, online payments and credit card
donations. To donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate.

Section 5. General Information About Project

Gutenberg™ electronic works
Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project
Gutenberg™ concept of a library of electronic works that could be
freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and
distributed Project Gutenberg™ eBooks with only a loose network of
volunteer support.

Project Gutenberg™ eBooks are often created from several printed

editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in
the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not
necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper
edition.

Most people start at our website which has the main PG search
facility: www.gutenberg.org.

This website includes information about Project Gutenberg™,

including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how
to subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.