An Ignoble Invitation- the Aelven Dominion

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An Ignoble Invitation- the Aelven Dominion Page 10

by Dani Morrison


  Aisalan

  Her breaths were slow and even, signaling her slip into the world of dreams, and he regretted dimming the lamp. Aisalan wasn’t usually one to watch his lover's sleep, but he delighted in being able to observe her without interruption or worry of how it would be perceived.

  He resisted the urge to press his lips gently to her skin and taste that hint of salt all humans seemed to possess. His mother would say they reminded her of the ocean; the primordial soup of life on their world and Miri certainly had a similar aroma buried under the fragrance of the herbs she used in her work. A curious melange of rich brine, lightning, and fresh soil.

  He pulled away and rolled onto his back. She was supposed to be a simple distraction from the stresses of the summit, but her presence was beginning to have a larger impact on him than he expected. When she entered the dining hall, he wasn’t surprised to see the eyes of other males swing in her direction. Lit by lamp lights, she positively glowed, and the sway of her hips was as hypnotic as the way her mouth caressed the syllables of his name.

  He had endeavored to announce his claim in as subtle a manner as possible even though he had no claim to her at all.

  Far from maintaining an air of strict decorum, as he had initially planned, he found himself wanting to pull laughter, and more, out of her as the dinner progressed. They were both prisoners of his conspiracy and the more at ease she felt with him, the more likely she was to alert him if something went awry.

  Laying next to her, he felt a strange calm as if the weight of the coming deliberations had shifted and was far more manageable.

  This was inconvenient and not at all part of his well-laid plans. Then again, he had never been good with planning.

  Chapter Ten

  Miri

  The next morning Miri found herself feeling far less nervous than the day before. By the time Lyrei arrived to help her dress in preparation for the procession, she was beginning to feel a bit giddy. The reason behind her partaking in the spectacle wasn’t ideal, but she couldn’t deny the excitement that curled around her as Lyrei fastened the last hooks on the rich cream gown chosen for the morning.

  Aisalan was already bathed, dressed, and out of the room to begin preparations for the last leg of their journey before she had even managed to pull herself off of the mattress. The awkwardness between them had dissipated somewhat, no doubt by his willingness to keep his word. Despite the soft touches and the desire that seemed to arc between them like lightning, there was something far more intimate about sharing quiet words in the dark.

  “You will be formally announced by the stronghold’s herald when you first arrive, so you won’t need to worry about that,” Lyrei said as she gently ran her fingers through Miri’s curls to separate them. “And Lord Vinhar will introduce you individually.”

  Miri was reminded then of depth of their hoax. The Aelven strongholds didn’t treat each other like family, but a high ranking Aelven family allowing humans within their ranks was considered odd at the best of times, let alone with rebellion hanging in the air.

  Bringing a casteless human to this kind of function would be considered eccentric on its own. Saying he intended to marry said human was likely to set tongues wagging across multiple strongholds regardless of the predominant occupying species.

  She would need to act as if she was madly in love with him despite reality and the simmering tensions that seemed to run underneath the calm veneer of everyday life in many strongholds. She would be considered a curiosity to the Aelven but a traitor, or worse, among many humans, all for a piece of creative fiction that would mean nothing when the three days were through.

  Miri had no idea what kind of reception she was going to receive at the Otravian stronghold but she highly doubted it would be a celebratory one.

  “Let’s get you to the carriage.”

  She performed one last sweep of the room, taking an especially longing glance at the comfortable bed before following Lyrei out into Sol’s rays.

  She was quickly hustled into the carriage with the maidservant giving her elbow a light squeeze before leaving for her own horse. Thumps and clunks sounded from above as luggage was reloaded, and when the door swung open, Aisalan stood in profile, saying his last goodbyes to the Sisters of Elias before taking a seat across from her.

  “We are, at most, two arcs away and should arrive by twelfth toll.” He said, though, his attention was focused more on the roll of parchment in his hands than the woman he was speaking to.

  “With these negotiations...” Miri began haltingly, “Are the rumors true? Are the Otravians funding the rebellion?”

  She caught brief bits of news about skirmishes through acquaintances around The Hidden and customers of The Magistra, but she never lingered long enough to get the details. That had always been Kyra’s forte, ferreting out gossip from regulars to relay around the table at Cala’s or in their bedroom.

  Miri’s free time was spent pouring over Duriah’s old formulas and texts he would bring to her when he was in a particularly generous mood.

  “At least Myrenden can say its citizens are well-informed.” Aisalan replied, his eyes lingering on the page before he raised them to hers, “The list I showed you would support those rumors. Some of us believe the Otravian stronghold is supporting the rebels with gold and weapons.”

  “And you’re hoping to stop them?”

  “We’re hoping to remind them of the stability that has lasted for hundreds of years.”

  A knot of bile rose in Miri’s throat. She had heard similar sentiments from Aelven before. The history of how the they came to rule over the human realm bordered on mythology before she was even born but the narrative remained the same. When the Aelven first arrived through the portal opened by human priests looking to commune with their gods and tap into the magic of aether, they had been greeted as ascended beings.

  The Aelven, unaware of another species capable of manipulating aether, expected demons and the human realm bore this mistaken identity forever after as its name. Vultayvi. The realm of the god Vul, a hellish changeable landscape filled with strange beasts and demonic kings.

  When they found aethersick human mages, grasping sorcerers attempting to carve gateways into their realm, the Aelven realm’s fear morphed into fury. The very fabric of their world could be ripped asunder by constant tears through the material of creation and the humans needed to be stopped.

  Tense envoys led to hostile threats as word spread of the ability to enter a realm of unforeseen magic and power. Human cities warred with each other to gain access to Aethryl, a crystalline substance capable of holding, and directing, aether. Many lands descended into chaos, lured by the tantalizing promise of wealth and influence. The Aelven used this to their advantage.

  With the help of humans more interested in acquisition than human autonomy, they were able to bring most leaders to heel. Those who could not be bribed were massacred. A wicked weapon, baelfire, swept through humanity’s fields and villages with such ferocity scars remained on the land for a hundred years.

  At least that was what she had been told. The Aelven had been merciless. Ruthlessly rounding up any humans capable of wielding magic and tearing entire civilizations apart to end its spread. It was a fool’s errand. The first tear lead to more and aether poured into the human realm and, with it, more Aelven seeking their fortunes in newly conquered human lands.

  According to the histories, there was only a brief period of transition between the arrival of the Aelven and the generations of peace and prosperity that followed. But Miri knew the costs of those virtues and that they rested on the backs of many who saw little of either.

  “Stability does not usually lead to uprisings.” She had no intention of goading him but couldn’t resist the urge to ask.

  That humans no longer waged unnecessary wars was a boon, but her own experiences with guards and Hearth Mistresses made his claim laughable at best.

  “We have long known humans to be temperamental and irrati
onal,” Aisalan replied. “We would expect nothing less.”

  Miri bristled, “So none of what the rebels say has merit?”

  It was one thing to condemn the wanton violence of the rebellion but to insist humanity had no reason to rebel at all took a level of arrogance Miri could scarcely fathom.

  Aisalan seemed to be weighing his words carefully. When he spoke his voice was low and barely carried across the carriage, as though he were afraid he would be heard. “I can concede...the dominion does not always act in humanity’s best interest.” He sighed. “But we could not allow humans to continue the path they had chosen.”

  He was the picture of reasoned calm, and for some reason, this made Miri even angrier. “When the priests opened that portal, they believed they were communing with their gods.”

  “I’m sure your gods would have been just as disappointed.” Aisalan’s words cut like a knife. “Your priests were seeking power. They were among the first to welcome the dominion with open arms in exchange for access to aether and wealth.”

  “And punishing all of us for the shortcomings of a few was the only viable alternative?” Miri asked, her temper finally flaring to life. “For beings who claim such vast superiority, it’s striking how primitive your solutions are.”

  He paused, his brow furrowing for an instant before smoothing back out. Miri wondered if she had gone too far but she could not take back spoken words and she would not apologize. Kyra always said her mouth would get her trouble, and she had promised not to provoke him if only to keep herself out of the dungeons.

  “Regardless of the histories.” Aisalan began, “Our lives are intertwined now. Antagonizing Omel Dorei would lead to untold bloodshed and countless lives lost for little gain.”

  Humans were innovative, courageous, and intelligent, but the Aelven were just as capable with superior strength, discipline, and vast resources to call upon should the winds of battle change. Were the rebels allowed to escalate their activities into a full out war, retaliation would be swift and merciless.

  Aisalan’s comment about the priests stung but she could not deny the truth in his words. Even now, there were human sects that specialized in Aelven magic with the hope of transcending their humanity. They viewed the Aelven as saviors even as they were forced to give up their names and swear allegiance to a dominion that doomed countless of their brethren to lives stripped of family, dignity, or love.

  “How are you going to convince them to desist?” Miri asked, schooling her voice to match Aisalan’s detached tone.

  He sighed and placed the parchment to the side before moving over on the bench to sit directly across from her.

  “I will do whatever I can, but I cannot do much.”

  Aisalan

  He could understand her point of view. He too, questioned the actions taken by his forebearers, who encouraged human priests and nobles to gorge themselves on magic before punishing them. The humans needed to be contained but the lengths taken were not those of a measured hand and the same vices of their own realm overtook Vultayvi with reckless abandon once their foothold was established.

  Before the Great Rift, magic seeped into the human realm like sand through an hourglass. A small trickle that was enough to fuel only those with the greatest sensitivity to the ethereal essence. With the opening of the rift and the spreading of aether into Vultayvi, both realms changed. The human realm’s creatures became gnarled, twisted, versions of themselves and human blood curdled at aether’s touch.

  Despite the dangers, humanity pressed forward. Always curious and impetuous. Their only saving grace appeared to be their love of coin but Aisalan was doubtful bribery would work for much longer.

  The human-led strongholds were mighty in their own right, and more Aelven were beginning to side with their hosts. The strict hierarchy of their society seemed like a prison compared to the stories humans told of how they lived before the dominion and human-led settlements were becoming hubs of technological and magical innovation.

  High ranking Hearth Mistresses spoke of increasing numbers of half-Aelven children in hushed whispers around dining halls. When he said their lives were intertwined, he meant it in far more ways than trade and military collaboration.

  “I am the Grand Treasurer.” He said softly, “I intend to offer whatever I can within my purview.”

  “So, you’re going to bribe them,” Miri replied. Her eyes pinned him to his seat, pools of liquid amber brimming with a combination of disappointment and anger.

  “I know you wished for a different answer, but I will not lie to you, Miri Third-Born.”

  She opened her mouth as if to speak again before nodding and turning her attention to the scenery outside of the carriage window. He wondered what she wanted to say, what she decided to hide from him for the sake of their arrangement.

  She remained silent until a thump on the side of the carriage caused her to jump and look wildly about for a potential cause.

  “That’s one of the guards letting us know we are close to the procession starting point,” Aisalan said, wishing he could do more to calm her nerves. She crackled with agitation and seemed ready to jump out of her skin.

  “I got to see a procession once as a child.” Miri said, her voice almost drowned out by the sound of other approaching carriages. “We rarely saw such spectacles in the wilds.”

  “The Progenitors are fond of display,” Aisalan replied. “It serves as a reminder that they are the mothers and fathers of the realms.”

  Bannermen bearing the crests of different families rode by, all in impeccable uniforms that would be removed within an hour. Carriages rolled past, newly painted, their fittings freshly polished and gleaming. A roar began to build, and Miri gasped as they finally reached their spot in the procession line.

  Though they weren’t close to the city gates, a sea of human and Aelven faces surrounded the road, all waiting to catch a glimpse of the arriving splendor. Despite the pomp, there was little expected of the carriage occupants. He watched Miri’s eyes widen as the procession began. Flowers were hurled onto the road by children. Young girls sat on the shoulders of lovers to get a better view.

  When they finally made it through the city gate, her nose was practically pressed to the glass.

  “Three days isn’t enough time to show you all of the city.” Aisalan began, “But we’ll be attending a few functions, and I’m sure Lyrei will make good company if you wish to explore.”

  Miri

  The Otravian stronghold was something to behold. Where Myrenden featured the ornate architecture associated with the Aelvan, human architecture was far more austere and martial though the city had made a show of the occasion by decorating everything in bright flowers and banners.

  Jugglers plied their trade, drawing attention away from the procession of carriages. Fire eaters pulled their death-defying stunts on platforms interspersed throughout the crowd. Human guards stood at the ready, preventing the public from rushing the road and bells tolled to herald their arrival.

  “It’s beautiful,” Miri said right as she caught sight of a man on stilts selling flower crowns to a young human couple.

  “I agree.” Aisalan replied and she would have asked him to tell her more about the city if she had not turned to find his gaze rested on her instead of the extravaganza outside of their window.

  He seemed to be a mess of contradictions: stoic one moment, flirtatious in the next. Being at the receiving end of his advances, she could easily imagine how any woman could fall under the weight of eyes that seemed to smolder and pierce all at once.

  They rolled to a slow stop, and the door swung open, inviting the scent of the city into the carriage. She was reminded of the festival days of her youth, back before she sequestered herself into the back room of The Magistra and the cramped walls of The Hidden.

  She was relieved to see Lyrei waiting for her, and she offered her a small smile and wave before taking Aisalan’s offered arm. Deep breaths. The show was about to begin.

/>   Chapter Eleven

  Aisalan

  “Presenting Grand Treasurer Aisalan Vinhar of Myrenden and the intended Miri Third-Born!”

  All eyes swung to them, and the hush that fell over the room let him know Miri’s presence could cause more of a stir than he initially thought it would. The whispers were low as other delegates and courtiers strained to get a view of the casteless human in attendance. He doubted there would be many, if any, others.

  Her hand reached around his arm, and he gently covered it with his own to squeeze it. A lamb in a pit of vipers, Miri Third-Born could take care of herself but the halls of the Otravian palace were intimidating even to him. The room’s mood was stifling as he walked past the faces of the summit’s many attendees.

  Despite the herald announcing the next arrivals, some eyes remained stubbornly fixed and he could feel Miri’s rising anxiety through her subtly tightening grip. He assumed there would be some simmering hostilities tempered by diplomatic politeness. He had not expected to see outright disdain and cold appraisal among the faces that surrounded them.

  He guided her through the gallery lined with treacherous voyeurs until they were able to join those received as honored guests. They were ushered into an ornately decorated receiving room outfitted in the royal blues of the Otravian crest.

  “Lord Vinhar!”

  Aisalan looked around, attempting to place the voice and was relieved when a familiar sweep of silver-white hair weaved through the milling inner circle to approach them.

  Taris Kolan. He didn’t always understand how they were friends, the other Aelv jovial, boisterous, and far too likely to end up in trouble, but he couldn’t help but smile when the other male extended an arm for him to clasp in greeting.

 

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