An Ignoble Invitation- the Aelven Dominion

by Dani Morrison

  He dropped into a low bow. Were they in The Hidden, among her kind, Miri would have laughed at him, but, standing in the middle of The Magistra, she was at his mercy. She curtsied in return. “I’m afraid we haven’t officially met.” She said, her eyes darting in Duriah’s direction. She did not need him thinking she was in the habit of seeking out Aelven males above her station. All kinds of assumptions could from that.

  A row of book cases blocked them from view, and she cursed the older Aelv for leaving her alone with him.

  “Oh?” He replied, his voice as smooth as she remembered. “I had hoped I would have made a better impression, Miri Third-Born. Though I will say...” he stepped closer, and his scent washed over her; a combination of fresh outdoor air and whatever expensive concoction he used as cologne, “You certainly left quite an enviable one on the High Administrator.”

  Miri flushed. She certainly hadn’t thought her behavior gossip worthy. “To what do I owe this honor?” It was far better to get down to business. It wouldn’t take long for Duriah to become impatient and whatever this male wanted wasn’t worth that kind of hassle.

  “I was dismayed to hear that you were not granted a permit to trade within the Convent.”

  Were she some naive whelp, Miri would have, could have, believed him, but something about the way he offered his condolences rubbed her the wrong way. She took a deep breath and narrowed her eyes. Whatever he was selling? She wasn’t buying.

  “I’m sure.” She said, crossing her arms over her chest, “If you don’t mind, I don’t have much time.”

  He smiled. “To business then. I can provide you a letter of formal introduction.”

  Miri’s world collapsed into a single point. The magical words she never expected to hear. The necessary fix to all of her and Kyra’s problems. They would, finally, get out of The Magistra and into the rest of their lives. There would be no legitimate reason to refuse them.

  Her heart hammered in her chest and she closed her eyes to gather her scattered thoughts.

  She opened them to find him quietly watching her, his gaze sliding over her in a way she had seen one or two times before.

  There had to be a catch.

  “And what do you want in return?”

  Aisalan

  She was smart. Considering she had managed to navigate the antiquated, convoluted, edicts and rules of procuring a trade permit, she would have to be. Aisalan didn’t know what to expect when he managed to track down Miri Third-Born, but he had hoped it would be easier going than the stubborn woman standing before him.

  Arms crossed, and soot-black braids loosely tied behind her into a bun that seemed to be falling apart at the seams, she managed to strike an imposing, if disheveled, appearance. But, it was her eyes that drew him in, like chips of polished amber settled in a heart-shaped face. She would be beautiful by any male’s estimation regardless of her decidedly prickly nature. He imagined the young woman he saw with her at the Tribunal Hall would have been much more obedient and eager to please, but he got the feeling Miri held no Aelv in high regard.

  “You are astute.”

  Miri snorted, and, if Aisalan were a wagering male, the slight tick in her jaw was a valorous attempt at biting her tongue.

  “As you have said, you are currently working, so to delay you further would be an affront to your employer.” He stepped closer to her, attempting to gauge how far he could push her in this single encounter. For what he wanted her for, she would need to be able to stand her ground.

  He was relieved when she did not retreat but, instead, squared her shoulders and met his gaze. “I propose we meet for an evening meal to discuss what our exchange would entail.”

  He watched the emotions flash across her face in rapid succession. Humans were so expressive. Even when they thought they had everything under control, the slight quirk of a lip, the subtle shift in their brow, told more about their true thoughts than many of them realized. Confusion, worry, and curiosity all blended into a single sentence, “Fine. Where and when?”

  Perfect. She would be perfect. “At the Pirim Inn. At sixth toll.”

  She shook her head, “I’m out of here by fourth and don’t like coming back into the Convent if I don’t have to.”

  Aisalan was briefly stunned. He expected her to eagerly agree, if only because he held the most leverage. But, as it stood, she also held a powerful bargaining chip. He was the one who approached her, not the other way around. “What do you suggest?”

  She worried her bottom lip between her teeth, and he watched the spark of mischievous glee surface in her eyes. “Cala’s...in The Hidden. Fifth toll.” Her hands went to her hips, a silent challenge.

  He weighed his options. He could always attempt to procure another human female, but doing so came with risks. Hiring a professional could lead to his name appearing on a client’s list, and he had little desire for that. Finding a high born woman willing to play the role would be even more difficult. As one of the more eligible bachelors in the stronghold, he had no guarantees things would remain strictly professional. Or as professional as the situation could be considered.

  Time was running short, and there was no point in deviating from his, admittedly haphazard, plan. He nodded, “Agreed.”

  He didn’t know where this ‘Cala’s’ was, but he would be a fool to enter The Hidden without a guard, and, more than likely, one of them would know of the place. He didn’t know why, perhaps to throw her off-kilter, but he reached forward and gently grasped her hand. His eyes remained trained on Miri’s as he raised it to his lips and placed a gentle kiss across her knuckles.

  The pungent scent of herbs greeted his nostrils. The hands of an alchemist. She appeared stunned for a moment, allowing the limb to hang limply in his own before he released her and turned on his heels. He gave a curt nod to the shop’s owner on his way out and stepped into the Convent streets.

  He rounded a corner and was dumped onto the main thoroughfare that would take him back to his quarter. There was business to attend to in the Tribunal Hall, particularly finalizing his travel plans for the upcoming negotiations but, there would be time for that in the morning.

  If he were honest with himself, he could admit the oversight was entirely his own. Males his age were expected to be partnered, and he would be viewed with suspicion if he arrived alone but with a full retinue of guards. The fact that he had entirely left off this last bit of planning caused a knot to form in his stomach — a strange sense of foreboding.

  If something so simple had already managed to slip past him, what else was he missing? The city heralds spun words of calm for the town square, but Aisalan knew the real reason this summit made him tense. Reports of attacks on outposts in the wilds meant the rebels were getting stronger, and they could only do that if someone were funding them. The Otravian Stronghold had long been suspected, but only now did the Progenitors of Myrenden think the threat serious enough to send a representative.

  A combination of new economic initiatives passed from their fingers to his eyes only added to his doubts regarding their innocence. Despite his years of service, Aisalan got the distinct feeling he wasn’t prepared. Perhaps a woman with more experience in providing pleasant company of many varieties would be a better option.

  No. This was discrete, and discretion was one of the most critical aspects of this arrangement. That he also found her alluring was secondary. Once the summit was complete, Miri would slot back into her prior existence and him into his. But a small smile came, unbidden, to his lips as he remembered that dancing flame in her eyes.

  Chapter Three

  Miri

  “You cannot be serious.” Kyra said, her cheeks stained a deep red with frustration, “You hate the Aelven. Why on earth you even consider this?”

  Miri sighed and continued wiping down her workspace. She asked herself the same question the moment Aisalan turned his back to her. Nothing good could come out of this association, and she had a niggling feeling whatever deal he was goin
g to propose was going to cost her far more than a potion.

  “He said he could give us a letter of introduction.” She chucked the worn rag into the bucket of water waiting at the end of the table, “I’m going to hear him out.”

  Kyra shook her head, “You know what he’s going to ask of you, right? There’s no way this won’t involve...” She swallowed and nervously rubbed her hands against her arms.

  That was what Miri feared. A life of self-sufficiency had led her many places, but never into a male’s bed. It wasn’t that she was afraid of losing her virginity, but the prospect of doing so seemed to come with little reward and far too many risks: illness, pregnancy, or both. Neither of them seemed to be worth the rapturous words that were written, or spoken, about the deed.

  “I’m one of the best alchemists in the stronghold.” She replied, attempting to convince herself as much as her friend, “Maybe he needs something he can’t get from a more reputable source.”

  Kyra’s face said it all. Doubtful. As a wealthy noble, he’d have access to just about anything he desired. That, in and of itself, raised an interesting point. “Besides,” she continued, “If he was looking for that, I’m sure there are plenty of females who would gladly throw themselves at him.”

  She hated to admit it, but Aisalan Vinhar was an exceedingly handsome male. His face was broader than the average Aelv, with a strong jawline, and she imagined many found the combination of looks and effortless charm irresistible.

  She shook her head again to clear it and was not amused to find Kyra peering at her with an almost too knowing gaze, “I just want you to be careful.” She said quietly. “Angering a guard is one thing, but provoking a noble really could be the death of you.”

  “I promise I’ll be on my best behavior,” Miri said, placing her fist over her heart. “I’ll even wear something nice.”

  “You own nothing anyone could classify as ‘nice.’” Kyra replied, wrapping her fingers around the last word, “But we’ll find something to make due.”

  “You should probably find out if Duriah needs anything before we go.”

  Once Kyra was out of the room, Miri quickly removed a small bottle from a counter drawer and palmed it. She was glad to see that Kyra had already said her goodbyes, and was gathering their things, when she made it to the front of the shop.

  “I made it a bit more potent this time, so don’t overdo it.” She murmured, slipping the bottle into the front of Duriah’s apron.

  She didn’t need or want a “Thank You.” They both knew their arrangement was a detriment in the long run, but she patted his shoulder and gave a slight wave as she followed Kyra out.

  Their walk back to The Hidden was, thankfully, uninterrupted, and she set about searching her clothing chest for something, anything that could reasonably pass muster.

  “He really agreed to meet you at Cala’s?” Kyra asked.

  “Yes.” Miri lifted one of her nicer chemises over her head to inspect it for holes. Finding none, she tossed it on the bed, “Whatever he needs, he must be desperate.”

  She fished out a simple green cover dress. It complimented her skin tone and was the only thing remotely close to fashionable that she owned.

  “You’re going to be late!” Kyra said her voice fading as she left the room.

  Miri cursed herself for pushing their rendezvous up an hour. Meeting him at the sixth toll would have given her time to get ready. As it stood, she only had a few minutes to wipe the grime of the day off her body with a wet cloth and unravel her braids.

  “You look lovely,” Kyra said as Miri emerged from their bedroom. She hid her smile behind her hand. “I think this is the nicest I’ve seen you look since the last Festival of Sol.”

  Miri rolled her eyes and secured her leather purse to a belt around her waist. “If I’m not back by eighth toll, assume I’m dead, and you can push our beds together.”

  Kyra’s smile faded, “Don’t joke around like that.” She swallowed and approached, bearing a small white flower she gently tucked behind Miri’s ear. “I feel like I’m sending you to the slaughter.”

  “Stop it.” Miri said, as much for her sake as Kyra’s. “Everything will be fine.”

  They hugged briefly, and she was out of the door and onto The Hidden’s streets. Headed toward Cala’s and, hopefully, their destiny.

  Aisalan

  Even with small group of guards in tow, Aisalan didn’t like the look of Cala’s at all. Dingy and covered in grime, he wondered just how stubborn Miri was to choose such a location over the better restaurants found in the Convent. Even if she were prideful enough to insist he meet her on advantageous ground, most would appreciate a setting that didn’t seem to be brimming with filth.

  From the corner of his eye, he spotted two men sizing him up, likely attempting to determine if he had any coin on him they could rough out once he left. He raised two fingers in signal to his guards, drawing the men’s attention to their presence. He was thankful when they averted their gaze.

  He could hold his own in a fight if need be but didn’t want anything standing in the way of getting what he needed and would rather not frighten off his quarry with a violent display.

  Their contemptuous glances reminded him of how important this impromptu dinner meeting was. The rebellion in the wilds surely had its supporters within the city walls. Rebellion was a contagion, easily spread from one citizen to the next. The sooner the humans could be soothed, the better.

  The fifth toll sounded, and he released an annoyed sigh. Punctuality was rarely a human strong suit.

  The lamplight in the room did little to alleviate the overall glum ambiance of the establishment, and the small bottle of honey wine deposited on the table was covered in a thin film that made him wary of its contents.

  The jingle of the door drew him out of his reverie, and his breath caught in his throat as he took in Miri’s entrance. She must have been running. A faint red blush was scattered across her cheeks, and her hair appeared untamed and windswept. Like the mane of a wild cat, it sprayed around her shoulders and arms, a writhing mass of curls and tendrils with minds of their own.

  She didn’t have the striking beauty of an Aelven woman, icy and aloof, but of something else entirely — the dhaoiri, mythological women born from idols carved for a goddess. Her cat-like eyes scanned the room, and when they finally landed on him, he had to wonder just who was hunting whom.

  She gave an exuberant wave to a table of laborers, her face breaking out into a grin he doubted would ever be directed at him.

  She hesitated, warily eyeing the guards, before taking her seat.

  “I’m late.” She said, and he wondered just how often such a complaint had been lobbed at her by the Aelv she worked for. “I underestimated the time.”

  No apologies.

  “Not by much,” Aisalan replied smoothly as he reached over to fill the cup the waitress left for her. “I did not doubt you would come.”

  They sat in silence for a few moments before the barkeep approached them again to tell them the day’s offerings. Miri quickly ordered for both of them before he could even wrap his head around the menu.

  “They only serve two things here that are safe for consumption, stew or dumplings,” She grimaced and began fiddling with the spoon in front of her, “You don’t want the dumplings.”

  “You come here often?”

  “All the time.” She took a sip of the honey wine and reached for the bottle, “I’m sure they’re very happy someone finally ordered this stuff.”

  “Did you like your gift?” Aisalan replied, intrigued by the way she seemed to avoid meeting his gaze.

  She frowned for a moment before her face cleared, and her eyes snapped to him, “That bottle of Qist came from you?”

  Aisalan nodded and raised his glass to her, “A token of admiration. Very few attempt to take on the High Administrator. I wished to signal my regard.”

  “My colleague certainly appreciated it.”

  “But you
did not.” He smiled, “That was a rather expensive bottle, you know.”

  “We could tell.” Miri replied, “So, are you going to tell me why you invited me here?”

  Aisalan chuckled, “If you insist. I require a companion for negotiations with the Otravian Stronghold. In exchange for agreeing to accompany me, I will provide you with a letter of introduction.”

  Miri

  While Miri may have expected him to ask for something extravagant, she wasn’t expecting to be asked to act as an escort to a political event where some of the highest in human and Aelven society would be gathered. She wasn’t the right person for this. Not by a long shot.

  She spent her time in backrooms bent over cauldrons and crucibles. Nothing in her existence provided her a lick of expertise in mingling among the well-off.

  She had none of the high breeding or formal training of some of the well-known courtesans of the Convent and couldn’t imagine herself rubbing elbows with anyone there without unintentionally offending someone.

  “Wouldn’t it better for you to take someone...” She looked for the words but found herself struggling to find a way to describe what she meant without inadvertently insulting herself or someone else.

  “A bit less hostile? Slightly less stubborn? Perhaps a-”

  “I get it.” Miri cut in. “You know what I mean.”

  “I require absolute discretion.”

  “Why not just hire an actual prostitute then?” She hissed, hoping to avoid the eavesdropping ears of The Hidden.

  “I would prefer my name not circulate among the stronghold’s more unsavory elements.” He replied. Steaming bowls of stew were placed in front of them, but Miri found herself without an appetite for the first time in years.