An Ignoble Invitation- the Aelven Dominion

by Dani Morrison

  “Lord Vinhar.” He said with a teasing smile, “I present the lovely Halis Terim and Pasha Gedar of Kolan.”

  Miri’s mouth ran dry. Of all places to run into the Aelven females from the fountain, the last place she expected was on the arm of Aisalan’s acquaintance. She curtsied and did not fail to notice the worried glances that passed between the two.

  Her grip on Aisalan’s arm loosened for a moment as the roiling emotions of the encounter came flooding back. She felt his gaze fall upon her before he turned his attention back to his Taris. “A pleasure.”

  “I thought it might be a good idea to introduce Miri to a few connections while we’re here.” Taris said, completely unaware of the daggers shot her way.

  A thoughtful gesture but entirely off base, “We’ve already met.” Miri said, unable to keep the chill out of her voice, “Though I wasn’t fortunate enough to learn their names.”

  Taris’ eyebrow rose, and a slight frown creased his brow before his gaze dropped down to the one he introduced as Halis.

  Aisalan’s grip on Miri tightened, and while his voice remained cordial, his tone brooked no argumen. “If you will excuse us. My intended is peckish, and I would like to ensure she can make it through the performance.”

  Before Taris could respond, he gave a slight nod of his head and lead her away, his grip steady on her waist.

  “Really?” Miri said with a wry chuckle. She cast a glance behind them. “I’m not hungry at all.”

  “Were you going to tell me you were accosted?” He growled, pulling them both into a small alcove.

  Miri sighed, “They put me in a bit of a bad mood. I’m fine now. Their behavior was not unexpected.”

  “It’s the principle,” Aisalan responded, tucking a curl behind her ear.

  “I take it you know them?” Miri asked.

  “I know of them.” Aisalan snorted, “From disgraced noble families, parting their thighs for any nobleman they think can help reclaim their former standing. I’m more insulted Taris believed them worthy of being in your company at all.”

  “And what separates me from them?” Miri asked, crossing her arms. “Am I not only here to procure my fortune?”

  Aisalan scowled, “Your circumstances are markedly different.”

  Miri shook her head, “Are they? We are all here for selfish reasons.”

  “I’m going to speak to Taris about the kind of company he keeps,” Aisalan grumbled.

  Miri laughed and leaned up to press a gentle kiss to his lips, knowing it would catch him off guard. He usually was the one to initiate any physical contact between them.

  “You’ll do no such thing.” She said with a small smile.

  His eyes softened, and Miri resisted the urge to squirm under his gaze, “In the future, you will not hide things from me.”

  The future. A single word that meant so much but so little in the grand scheme of things. Their future extended for two more days, at which point they would part ways. He back to his life, stalking the court of the Myrenden stronghold, and she back to The Hidden. Though his words were meant to bestow trust and confidence, they only served to remind her that this arrangement was temporary, and it would be unwise to let her emotions get the better of her.

  That she had even allowed Aisalan’s hands to caress her and slip under her gown didn’t bode well for her ability to detach from the situation.

  She swallowed the lump in her throat, “Alright.”

  He seemed to relax, and a devilish smile curled his lips as he advanced, pressing her back against the cool white stone of the alcove wall, “Do you think our hero will win his mistress’s favor?”

  Miri peered up, her lips twisting into a wry grin, “We’ll have to wait and see.”

  Her breath caught when a hand skimmed up her side to rest under the curve of her breast. The atrium lamps dimmed and brightened, signaling the end of the intermission, and Aisalan straightened while a silent promise remained in his eyes. “I find myself suddenly interested in how the story ends.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Aisalan

  “Well...that was quite an ending,” Miri said from behind a privacy screen.

  “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen one, but I don’t remember them being that...” Aisalan paused as he searched for the right words to describe the supan’s climax. The plays from his youth generally ended happily.

  “Cynical?” Miri replied, popping her head out and catching his reflection in the mirror. “Depressing?”

  “I thought you would have found it romantic.”

  “What’s romantic about two people killing themselves because they can’t be together?” Miri replied, rolling her eyes and ducking back behind the screen. “The ending served as a warning more than anything.”

  The supan’s ending far from inspiring passion seemed to have the complete opposite effect. The two lovers, unable to remove the yoke of familial expectations and unwilling to face a world that would never approve of them, died in each other’s arms. Startled gasps echoed through the theater as they drove blades into each other’s hearts and collapsed to the stage floor.

  Miri emerged, clad only in a thin muslin nightgown that accentuated her movements.

  Aisalan removed his shirt and tossed it over one of the chairs before popping the first button of his trousers, “And what was that warning?”

  He watched her crawl onto the bed, his eyes trained on the brief glimpses of flesh that peaked through the strategically placed slits in the fabric. She stretched out on her side and propped her head on one fist while her other hand traced the intricate patterns of the bed covers.

  “Everyone has their determined path, and to deviate from it will lead to disaster.” She said quietly. “Both of their lives were destroyed.”

  That was undoubtedly the more dour view to take.

  “Perhaps the playwright was speaking against the rigidity of our customs.” He said as he climbed on the bed next to her. “It wasn’t just the lovers who suffered loss through adherence to tradition. Their families suffered as well.”

  Miri snorted and rolled on her back, giving Aisalan a glimpse into the gaps caused by the ties that ran down the side of the gown. With a single tug on three small knots, he could see every supple inch of her. The supan was rapidly becoming the last thing on his mind.

  “The families lost an heir and a breeding pawn,” Miri said through a yawn, her small hand covering her mouth before drifting to rest behind her head. She softly moaned as she performed a full body stretch and sank deeper into the mattress.

  “You think noble families to be so cruel that no love is felt for the members within?” Aisalan asked.

  She didn’t respond at first, and he finally dragged his eyes up to hers. Half-lidded and on the edge of sleep, those dizzying golden pools stared back at him, unreadable and mysterious. It was as though she were seeing through him, drifting on the boundary between wakefulness and sleep where intuition could take root. Her response was hushed “I don’t really know.”

  He should have been insulted. Should have asked her to explain herself, but the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest as her breathing slowed and her eyes slipped shut made him pause.

  That Miri viewed them as creatures incapable of love further cemented her suitability for their little ruse, but it was a cold comfort. She believed him capable of providing her with pleasure but not much else.

  She shifted, turning to her side and inching closer to him, seeking body heat. Her shift fell to one side, revealing the rounded swell of her hip, and he reached out to rest his hand on the expanse of flesh, testing the plumpness of it. He thought nothing of molding her body to his, despite the evidence of his arousal insisting he do more than hold her.

  What had started as something so simple, a cut and dry transaction between a male and female, had begun to become something else entirely. Aisalan closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, inhaling the scent of her hair and reveling in the sensation of her small frame en
gulfed by his larger one.

  Two more days and she would be gone, vanishing back into The Hidden and her own life. He was already beginning to grieve.

  Miri

  It was hot. Too hot. Why was it so hot? Miri opened her eyes and attempted to move, only to find her body pinned by a significantly heavier weight pressing down upon it. She began to take stock of her surroundings before her eyes landed on Aisalan, his face buried in her shoulder, and his long limbs wrapped around her like vines.

  She was able to move just enough to turn and face him, causing his eyes to flutter and she was soon caught in that amethyst gaze.

  “Good morning, dhaoiri.” He said softly, drunk on sleep.

  Miri smiled and ran a finger down the bridge of his nose then quickly retracted her hand, unsure of why she felt the urge to offer such a touch.

  “Were you worried I was going to fly into the night?” She teased, “You’re wrapped around me like a serpent.”

  Aisalan hummed and pulled her closer, and Miri gasped at the feel of him, solid and erect, pressed against her navel.

  “I would find you.” He murmured.

  “You were able to find me the first time easily enough,” Miri said, thinking back to their meeting in The Magistra only a few days prior. She never imagined the Aelven male would be capable of drawing anything more out of her than begrudging acceptance of their arrangement.

  His lips sought hers, and she met him halfway. Her light mewl accompanied him slipping his tongue past her lips to tangle with her own and the embers of passion, long stoked by denial, erupted into a conflagration. She experimentally rolled her hips, and thrilled when he released her from their kiss to pant against the column of her throat.

  He regained his composure and his next words burrowed down to her center, “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

  She was, and she knew it. She wasn’t entirely sure she was ready to take him into her, to feed the dull throb that pulsed between her thighs now that he was practically cradled between them. She had little time to consider anything before she was rolled onto her back, Aisalan’s arms framing her head, and the thickness of his manhood pressed against her most intimate area.

  Apprehension and lust warred in her mind as he searched her eyes for the answer to a yet unasked question. She almost jumped when she felt his fingers reach for one of the ties of her nightgown, and the unraveling of the knot sent tremors of promise through her.

  “Ah!” His fingers brushed her nipple, causing it to tighten before he rolled it gently between two digits.

  Miri arched off of the mattress, her mind reeling at the blissful combination of sensations. She rocked her hips, pressing herself against the ridge of him in search of friction.

  “So responsive.” Aisalan’s hand traveled to her other breast before he released her to pull her into another kiss. “I can make you sing like a bird.”

  She watched him slip down her body, pressing gentle open-mouth kisses against her as he went. He eventually arrived at her lower petals and his hand palmed one of her breasts as his searing gaze swept over her fully exposed womanhood. As much as she thought she was ready for this, nothing prepared her for this level of intensity, and she flushed with embarrassment at her state.

  Miri’s keening wail accompanied Aisalan’s deep moan when his mouth closed over her and her hands flew to the silky strands of his hair, seeking anything for purchase. If this was what she had been missing out on she could thoroughly kick herself for her prejudice. His tongue swirled around her clitoris, laving it in wet heat, and adding to the dizzying euphoria that threatened to consume her.

  She was rewarded with a dark chuckle that turned into a full purr as she rocked her hips against his mouth. He traveled lower, dipping his tongue into her well of desire in slow rhythmic motions that threatened to drive her mad. She was so close, but he kept her on edge, sometimes sucking her swollen bud between his lips and other times quickly flicking his tongue over it until her cries rose to a fevered pitch.

  Her body quivered with the force of it, and she was on the verge of begging before he finally slid a single finger into her. She felt a pinch and gasped right as he returned his attentions full force where she needed it most. Her head fell back, and her orgasm tore through her like a summer storm, powerful and sudden.

  Through her orgasmic haze, she saw Aisalan straighten and jerk down the thin fabric of his braies.

  “Watch.” He ordered, his voice rough with want. One hand clutched her inner thigh, and he used the other to stroke himself, his eyes traveling over her body before finally landing on hers again. “Watch what you do to me.”

  His breaths were choppy as he increased the pace of his strokes and, within moments a hoarse shout punctuated his release, his essence spilling over his fingers onto the bed coverings below.

  Miri felt weightless and time stood still while she studied the virile male knelt between her legs. A thin layer of sweat covered his body, and his eyes remained predatory. His grip on his shaft loosened and his movements slowed. She never considered herself an innocent but confronted with such a display of male sexuality she had to concede that she had waded into uncharted territory.

  She swallowed, willing more moisture into her dry throat. “Why didn’t-”

  “You were not ready.” Aisalan said, moving to the edge of the bed. Despite reaching his climax, he was still erect, as though his body remained unsatisfied despite obtaining release.

  A line had been crossed, and Miri was lost for words as she slowly rose and rearranged her shift. What could she possibly say? Thank you? That was wonderful? She wished she could tell him he was wrong.

  She remained mute as he leaned over to place a gentle kiss on her forehead before rising, “We will be attending a formal dinner this evening.”

  A temple bell tolled, and Aisalan cursed under his breath. “I shall return to retrieve you.”

  Miri nodded and laid back, staring at the ceiling while he bathed, dressed, and left for the day. She didn’t move again until a soft knock on the door announced Lyrei’s presence.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Aisalan

  Her taste was still with him, and her passionate cries rang in his ears as the Otravian stronghold’s Progenitor laid out his demands.

  “The dominion requires 25 percent of all incoming revenues, and that is preposterous!” A meaty fist pounded on the long wooden table. “Our people deserve the ability to reap the full benefit of their labor. The tribute in commodities we send should be more than enough.”

  Aisalan had to fight the urge to roll his eyes. The Otravians had long ago negotiated some of the lowest tax rates of any of the human-held strongholds. It was almost scandalous, with their tributes being even lower than some of the Aelven settlements on the continent.

  “With all due respect Lord Otravian, your stronghold has already been given far more leeway than many others, and the dominion has yet to receive a valid justification for why your taxes should be lowered any further.” Aisalan began, “Perhaps if your treasurer supplied full, detailed, reports of your stronghold’s income and expenses the members of this esteemed council could support your request.”

  Ulther sputtered, and his skin took on a ruddy hue as the depths of his outrage manifested in his complexion. Aisalan had attempted to dance around the subject since their first formal introduction, but his patience had long worn thin. There could be no appeals to ethics nor honor without a valid cause, and, it seemed, Ulther had none to give.

  “It may be best to take a break to regroup and determine the next topics for discussion.” A human man Aisalan did not know spoke and rested his hand against Ulther’s shoulder in an attempt to calm the perturbed ruler. At this, Aisalan frowned. This man was not present at the first introductions and did not announce himself at the beginning of the session.

  A sea of grumbles met his statement, but Aisalan had little interest in waiting out any objections. His eyes sought out Taris, and the males gave subtle nods to each o
ther before standing.

  “We should reconvene in half an arc.” He said, bowing slightly to the stronghold’s ruler, “By then, I’m sure we will be able to discuss the best way to proceed.”

  The rage simmering in the man’s eyes was all the evidence Aisalan needed. This summit was a waste of time.

  “Won’t be able to gild a few palms this time I take it,” Taris said, his tone lacking its usual good humor. “This way.” He continued, pointing towards a small door. “Ulther has many eyes and ears around the palace.”

  They slipped through and Aisalan found himself in a small chapel room that appeared neglected.

  “How do you know about this room?” He asked, frowning at the dusty altar and pews. Taris replied with a roguish grin, and Aisalan raised his hand, “Forgive me. I no longer wish to know.”

  His friend’s smile quickly fell, “The Otravians are funding the rebels.”

  “Do you have proof?”

  “Nothing concrete, but I do not recognize the man who spoke on his behalf. He must be an outsider.” Taris replied.

  “Without solid evidence, nothing can be done.” Aisalan sighed and sat in one of the neglected pews. “Were it as simple as putting a few more coins in his personal coffers we could be halfway back to Myrenden by now.”

  “Ah, but that would put a damper on your wooing of Miri Third-Born, would it not?”

  Aisalan narrowed his eyes, “There is no wooing to be done.”

  Taris crossed his arms and leaned against one of the chapel’s stone pillars. “I’ve known you for many years, Aisalan Vinhar. Of the two of us, I have always been the better liar.”

  “I think we have far more pressing affairs to be concerned about than my companion for this summit.”

  “Not when that companion is causing you to be testy and distracted.” Taris replied, “You showed your hand too quickly. If you were hoping to maintain the illusion of neutrality, I’m afraid you’ve failed.”