He suspected she had few, if any, sexual encounters to her name. But, it wasn’t her relative inexperience that drew him to her. It was her disarming, alluring, inability to maintain artifice. Aisalan imagined every gasp from her lips would be as sweet as they were surprising, bubbling up as he strummed notes of pleasure from her body.
He wished to finish what was started before the baths. He gently grazed her cheek with his knuckle before firmly cupping the soft curve of her jaw. The breath she released was as shaky as his own. “I need to change.”
If he could have his way, she would never ask for clothing in his presence again, but Aisalan knew when to withdraw.
It was still early enough for a meal, and the priestesses would be expecting their presence in the dining hall.
When the knock he was expecting came, he opened the door to find Lyrei, worry evident in her eyes.
He had a feeling the young maidservant had grown friendly with Miri during their short time together and, as a member of a lower caste, doubted his intentions towards her. Her relief as he stepped aside and motioned in Miri’s direction was palpable. “I trust you can bring her to the dining hall when you are finished?” he said, hoping to cut the remaining tension.
“Of course, Lord Vinhar.” Lyrei replied quietly before walking to Miri’s side.
A stilted silence remained and he got the sense they were waiting for him to depart. “I’ll leave you to it then.”
Miri
“Are you alright?” Lyrei asked the moment Aisalan shut the door behind him.
Miri released her held breath to give a not that convincing ‘Yes.’ She was determined to spurn his advances if only to prove that he wasn’t nearly as irresistible as he thought he was, but she knew her own body and it was swiftly betraying her.
She couldn’t even be sure that, had he made a move to kiss her, she would have been completely against the idea. When alone, and close, something always threatened to blossom between them. Something glorious and fraught. It was by the grace of whichever gods were watching that she finally brought herself back into reality when he touched her.
Aisalan encapsulated many of the things she loathed about the Aelven but he had not shown himself to be dishonest or malicious, so far. He was arrogant, but she had met few Aelven who were not. There were far worse specimens she could have ended up with in this demon’s deal and it was with this that Miri struggled.
As frustrating as Aisalan could be, she could feel the pull between them.
“Where are you staying?” She asked, scrambling for any subject to pull herself out of her cyclical thoughts.
“In the sisters’ quarters.” Lyrei said, “That’s where guests usually stay.”
Miri nodded, “I guess this arrangement made the most sense considering the circumstances.”
Lyrei bit the inside of her cheek before continuing, “I’ve never known Lord Vinhar to be the kind of male who...” she paused and finished securing Miri’s belt, “Forces himself upon females but-”
“He won’t.” Miri interjected, “We aren’t.”
She smiled weakly when Lyrei’s shoulders dropped, and the Aelven female exhaled, “That’s good. I was concerned.”
Despite some of Miri’s more prickly moments, Lyrei had been nothing but accepting and patient.
Besides Kyra, she was the only other person who genuinely seemed to grasp Miri’s situation, and while she never spoke about it outright, Miri sensed solidarity from her temporary maidservant, enough to confide in her during this disorienting time.
“He’s...not as bad as I thought he would be.” Miri murmured. It was odd being dressed by someone else. She stepped into the gown Lyrei chose for her and remained dutifully still as each hook was latched.
“But he’s still horrid,” Lyrei said, running her hand down Miri’s flank to smooth the fabric. There was a beat of silence before their laughter filled the room. It was a needed release, the pressure of the situation alleviated by shared humor.
Lyrei attached a delicate headdress made of thin gold links to Miri’s hair and stepped back, “You are sure to inspire envy.”
Miri rolled her eyes, “I doubt that.” She turned, “Is there anything I need to know?”
Lyrei tapped a finger on her lips before replying, “If there are two seats available, be sure to sit to his right. Courtesans sit to the left.”
Miri was filled in on other small do’s and don’ts as they walked to the dining hall, and when they passed through the entryway, she was glad to find the room wasn’t nearly as formal as she feared it would be. Multiple long tables were arranged in such a way that all diners could see each other, and she spotted Aisalan sitting next to one of his guards with the seat to his right left open.
“You will do fine.” Lyrei said, giving her arm a light squeeze, before leaving back the way they came.
Miri’s pulse thundered in her ears as she wove through the guests to Aisalan’s side. She could feel eyes on her, and her anxiety spiked when she took in the other guests. There were few humans in attendance, and she found herself quickly looking away from each violet gaze she met until she finally reached her dinner partner.
“Thank you.” She said when Aisalan rose and pulled out her seat.
“You look splendid.” He whispered in her ear once they were settled, and she almost shivered when his thumb caressed the exposed skin of her shoulders before he turned back to the guard seated to his other side.
The dinner was surprisingly intimate considering the number of diners in attendance. The murmuring chatter of the room never grew louder than the odd boisterous laugh.
“Is there anyone here I should know?” Miri whispered. For much of the meal she had been left to her own devices, with Aisalan’s attention occupied by the male beside him. They spoke in low tones and she imagined their conversation had to do with the Otravians. She had little desire to pry. They were right to be wary.
Aisalan motioned for one of the temple servants to refill their wine and his eyes narrowed before he subtly directed her attention toward an older Aelven couple seated a few tables away. “Those are the Progenitors of the Helefyr.” His nose brushed against her ear as he murmured into it.
“Are they the ruling family of a stronghold?” Miri asked. They certainly looked the part. The female’s deep blue gown was a voluminous affair that practically swallowed those seated next to her and her husband’s silk doublet was probably worth more than Miri would be able to save in a year.
Aisalan chuckled, “No, but Ruvyn Helefyr likes his wife to warm his bottom when he displeases her.”
The wine in Miri’s mouth almost came out of her nose and she glowered at him as she coughed through his laughter. “I would say that makes them interesting to know.” His smile was conspiratorial, as though the salacious sliver of gossip was a forbidden sweet shared between two children. “Wouldn’t you?”
Miri hid her smile with her fingers and peeked at the couple again. “How do you know that? Why do you know that?”
“Knowledge is a powerful tool.” Aisalan replied, dabbing at his mouth with a cloth napkin. “And wealthy drunkards are terrible at discretion.”
“I can’t think of a reason why I would need to hold onto that kind of information about anyone.” She was genuinely perplexed. It seemed so intrusive.
“In the court halls, glory and infamy are as valuable as they are interchangeable. Reputation can make or break a Progenitor’s line.”
Duriah’s words came back to her, his warning about the dangers of the court tickling the back of her mind and causing their dinner to curdle in her stomach. As confident as Aisalan could appear, his voice held a hint of weariness as though the reality of his statement weighed far more than he could ever let on.
“That sounds terrible.” Miri said after a few moments of pause. “To have to watch over one’s shoulder at all times. Man wasn’t meant to live that way.”
“We are not humans.” Aisalan said pointedly. His gaze drifted down to
her lips and Miri immediately looked away. She had not forgotten, but the stark reminder cut through the haze of their good humor. Despite sharing an existence within the dominion, they lived completely different experiences.
She wondered if he found the constant game of politics tiring. He was attentive, but his eyes always scanned the room, lingering on some guests longer than others.
Her anxiety was caused by the precariousness of the situation, a fear of the unknown regarding what could occur between them. Aisalan’s disquiet seemed to come from the fact that every pair of eyes in the room were seeking a perceived weakness or potential scandal to be used at a later date.
The best outcome for both of them relied on delivering a stellar performance and the similarities in their circumstances did not escape her even if she believed Aelven hardships were simply consequences of their own customs and decisions.
Her skin tingled when his thumb brushed across her shoulder again. She had not noticed when he placed his arm around her and took stock of their current positions. Angled toward him, her knee close to touching his, they could easily pass as casual lovers at least.
The rest of the meal was spent discussing the food and Aisalan’s culinary experiences across the region. Though she attempted to remain at a distance she could consider professional, Miri found herself leaning into him, laughing at some of his more colorful tales and enjoying the ease of their banter as the sweet wine lulled her into a light, fuzzy, calm.
Miri
The scent of jasmine floated on the night air, an intoxicating fragrance Miri couldn’t get enough of.
“I can’t believe you liked that disgusting mush.” Aisalan said as they entered their quarters. The dinner concluded and their bellies full, the walk back to their room was more of a lazy stroll.
She laughed, “Well, at least now I know one of your weaknesses.” she rested a hand on her hip and couldn’t help but tease him, “The great Aisalan Vinhar, unmanned by Pomegranate pudding.”
“I am far from unmanned.” Aisalan replied. His tone was purposefully haughty but a spark of mischief danced in his eyes.
He chuckled when she quickly demurred and rushed behind one of the privacy screens to strip down to her shift. They finished undressing in silence though Miri was acutely aware of his presence. The sounds of clothes rustling, the knowledge that she was about to share his bed, filled her with a strange combination of anxiety and anticipation.
She lingered behind the screen far longer than necessary and closed her eyes when she heard sounds indicative of the bed coverings being turned down.
“Are you hiding Miri?”
Bastard.
“No,” Miri said, stepping out from behind the screen a bit too quickly for her tastes. If she was hoping to convince him she wasn’t hiding away like a coward, she probably wasn’t that convincing. “I wanted to give you a chance to choose your side of the bed.”
She could have smacked herself. That sounded even less plausible than her initial response. They were sleeping. She had slept plenty of times before and shared a room with someone for most of her life, barring times when she was ill. This would be easy. Simple.
At least that’s what she told herself as she padded to the side unoccupied by a large, topless Aelven male now looking at her as if she were something to be devoured. A single oil lamp sat on his side of the bed, leaving him cast in shadow, but his eyes were unmistakable, catching the light and naked in their appreciative appraisal.
She hesitated briefly before climbing under the covers and released a trembling breath when Aisalan leaned over to dim the lantern. His body heat returning to her side was a stark reminder of just what she had signed up for over the next few days.
“I’m finding it difficult to sleep.” He murmured, and Miri would have loved nothing more than to smother him with a pillow.
“You did just blow the lamp out.”
“Tell me a story.” He replied.
Miri wasn’t sure whether he was joking or not. In the dark, with the dimmed lamp the only light in the room, she couldn’t see his face, and she didn’t want to risk the closeness of looking closer to check.
“I don’t know any.” She quietly said, hoping that would be the end of the conversation.
“Not a single one?” He sounded incredulous, and Miri grit her teeth. Sure she knew a few stories but only snippets, short moral tales relayed to her in a childhood long passed, and by detached Hearth Mistresses as a bare bones introduction to Aelven culture and customs.
“I heard stories as a child, but I’ve forgotten most of them.”
There was a moment of silence before she felt him turn. Whether in her direction or not, she wasn’t sure at first. She closed her eyes, and her hands tightened their grip on the bed coverinngs as she felt the puff of his breath against her cheek with his next words.
“I guess I’ll have to entertain us both tonight then.”
This entire conversation was surreal.
“The goddess Elias was once the patron goddess of the Aelven. Our realm is named for her after all.” He began, “But her worship led to a war that lasted a thousand years.”
“Oh?” Miri said. She wasn’t all too interested in Aelven mythology, but she would happily let him bore her to sleep.
“Originally, she had only male priests.” Aisalan continued. Miri felt a slight tug on one of her curls. He was playing in her hair again, “As well as performing rituals devoted to her, they created paintings, poetry, and sculpture in her honor.”
“They were devout.”
“Some believed they were in love.” He replied, “Very few who devoted their life to Elias could do so without falling to her graces, and that madness would become all-consuming.”
“A priest by the name of Orinth was overtaken by her to the point of going far beyond simple prayers and offerings of wine. He was consumed with fire for Elias, and, because of that, he began draining his blood to her as an offering. Every day he would give a bit more of his life force to the statue he commissioned in her honor.”
Miri remained silent. Though the story of Orinth the Mad Priest was one she had heard before, it certainly wasn’t this highly disturbing version. In the rendition from her childhood, Orinth decided to pursue a life of solitude and contemplation with the statue. His story was meant to convey the importance of silence and enduring passion without giving into it. There was never any mention of blood sacrifices.
Aisalan shifted impossibly closer, “Elias rejoiced in his sacrifice. No other had shown her such devotion, and she decided to reward him for his service and dedication by gifting him a small piece of her.”
Miri’s response came out as a whisper, “How did she do that?”
In the quiet, in the dark, in that intimate moment, she was as enraptured in Aisalan’s tale as she was the way his fingers had moved from exploring her curls to trailing up the skin of her arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake.
“She instilled a bit of her essence into the statue and breathed life into it. He awoke one morning to find a beautiful maiden asleep in his bed. He praised Elias and vowed to worship at her feet in this life and the next.”
“Were the other priests jealous?” Miri asked.
Aisalan chuckled, “Quite the contrary. The other priests of his order sought to crown her as a living representation of Elias’ bounty. They rejoiced for him and wished to gain even more of her influence, making similar offerings themselves.”
“That still sounds rather covetous.”
“Perhaps it was.”
Warmth spread through her as his fingers continued their exploration over her collarbones and down her other arm.
“How did something that seems like such a blessing lead to war?”
“Elias is a generous agent of chaos.” Aisalan replied, “Where one Aelv gains, another desires what he possesses, and as word spread of the beautiful daughters of Elias, the dhaoiri, others sought to procure her blessings for themselves. Where they walked, honey flowed
like water from the hives, and livestock gave multiple births in one season.”
She ignored the explanation of his name for her and turned to face him, “So they were attacked.”
“Yes, by Aelv and god. Aelven rulers sought to bring the dhaoiri to their lands while some of the gods rallied against Elias for sharing an aspect of the divine with mortals.”
The story was fantastical and Miri’s imagination went wild picturing the kind of creatures and armies that approached the temple to obtain or destroy, gifts from a goddess. The Aelven realm was said to be filled with ferocious beasts; giant serpents far larger than a tree, birds that burst into flame only to be reborn out of the ashes, fierce predators with the face of a raptor but the body of a lion and powerful wings.
Any of these could be harnessed and bent to the Aelven will. Whatever battles took place must have been fields of carnage and destruction.
“No one knows how they managed to withstand the onslaught. Some say Ryfrenth, the trickster god, sided with Elias and caused random misfortunes to fall upon those who attacked her children. Others say she made love to the god Vul so that she could birth a race of beasts to protect them, but in the end, she, and they were overwhelmed.”
“And they were all destroyed?” Miri asked through a yawn.
Aisalan’s hand drifted to the small of her back, and she couldn’t suppress the bubble of warmth that erupted when his fingers flexed against the fabric of her shift. Her eyelids were already feeling heavy, and she fought the urge to fall asleep so she could hear the end of the tale.
He was close, so close she could almost feel his lips against hers as he spoke, “No. Not all of them.”
Miri rolled her eyes and smiled through her sleepy haze. “That was terrible.” She said before finally allowing her eyes to close.
His soft laugh wrapped her in a cocoon. “Really? I thought it was rather good.”
“Goodnight Aisalan.”
An Ignoble Invitation- the Aelven Dominion Page 9