Aisalan winced, unable to deny the accuracy of Taris’ assessment. With each passing hour he spent in the company of Ulther and his council, it became obvious how little was going to be achieved during these negotiations and how much time was being wasted on them that he could be spending in Miri’s arms.
The knowledge set him on edge and tore what little patience he possessed to shreds.
Taris laughed, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this. My word. She really does have her hooks in you.”
“There are no hooks.” Aisalan said his voice cool, “Certainly none to match the talons of those harpies you attempted to introduce her to at the supan.”
Taris raised his hands in defeat, “For that, I must apologize.”
They regarded each other for a few moments before Aisalan sighed, “She said their behavior was not unexpected but I have no desire to see her harmed by this arrangement.”
Taris frowned, “This was not the most upstanding way to begin an affair.”
“I did not intend to...” Aisalan raked a hand over his face, “I did not think anything would come of it.”
“So now, you have a human woman in your bed who thinks this is just a matter of trade while you are busy pining.”
“I am not pining.” Aisalan snapped.
“You have never been one to hold poor treatment of a human against an Aelv before,” Taris said softly. “As any Aelven male would, you found an appealing female and used whatever measures necessary to obtain her.”
There were many things Aisalan could admit but Taris’ observation was the most difficult to accept. In truth, he had desired Miri the moment he saw her and had thought nothing of using his position to bring her under his influence. It was an all encompassing lust that had him extremely conscious of her presence as he led the two human women through the Tribunal Hall.
It had been easy enough to get the High Administrator to divulge her identity. Miri had left enough of an impression that he was chomping at the bit to rail against her impertinence and lack of manners when Aisalan approached him seeking information.
That she happened to possess the kind of qualities necessary to act as his intended was a boon that made obtaining her favor even more of an obsession. He should not have mixed business with pleasure and had jeopardized the negotiations seeking Miri’s intoxicating company. He needed to get himself under control.
He rose, “I have been remiss in my duties.” He ignored Taris’ exasperated expression. “Convincing Ulther Otravian to retract his demands is my top priority. I am committed to maintaining peace between man and Aelv, but it seems he views our graciousness as a weakness.”
The thought left a sour taste in his mouth. War would be devastating, especially against the Otravians whose armies matched the Myrenden’s own. Inevitably, reinforcements would be sent from the Aelven realm in the thousands, and few Progenitors in Eliathaeas would be against ensuring Ulther’s downfall set an example to span the ages.
The amount of uprisings had been steadily increasing over the past generation. Omel Dorei was beginning to grow weary of man’s constant defiance.
But Miri’s words replayed in the back of his mind. Regardless of how long the two species had lived together, the Aelven would always be viewed as invaders. Rebellion was inevitable.
“No one wants war,” Taris replied. “It would be disastrous. The Otravian stronghold would be destroyed.”
Aisalan froze, his hand on the chapel door’s latch, and he looked over his shoulder at his comrade. “I believe it is time someone reminds them.”
Miri
She was distracted and was probably terrible company for Lyrei as they toured the public art gallery they stumbled upon during their afternoon walk.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” Lyrei whispered.
Miri wasn’t sure. Throughout the morning, she could barely focus on the light-hearted conversation Lyrei attempted to rope her into, only for the Aelv to eventually stop altogether.
“I should be,” Miri said softly.
“Did Lord Vinhar...”
Miri knew what she wanted to ask. After Miri let Lyrei in the room following Aisalan’s departure, she quickly ducked into the washroom, something she hadn’t done the previous mornings. She was unsure whether it was her paranoia that caused her to believe Lyrei would know what occurred between them.
“No. I mean...”
She was hesitant. While she appreciated the kindness the Aelven female had shown her over their short time together, this was a subject best left to Kyra; another human who could understand why she was so conflicted about sharing her body with him.
Admitting how conflicted she was would also force her to voice an uncomfortable truth she fought to hide from herself. She had begun to feel an attachment to Aisalan, an unwise proposition considering their positions. The tragic ending of the supan reverberated through her mind. It was like an omen from the gods.
“As your maidservant, I am bound to keep your confidence.” Lyrei said, “Nothing that passes between us may be divulged to another.”
Miri smiled weakly at her, “I appreciate all of the help you’ve given me.”
Lyrei nodded, “Despite our differences, I...would like you to know that I consider you a spirit in kind.”
Miri’s shoulders sagged, and a wave of tears rushed to her eyes that she quickly blinked away, “I didn’t know what to expect but...” She took a shuddering breath, “Knowing it’s going to end was supposed to be the best part of this.”
She released a shuddering breath when Lyrei wrapped an arm around her shoulder and they allowed the silence to continue between them.
Lyrei was the first to speak. “You know, this is something straight out of a supan.”
Miri laughed, a loud bark that drew the attention of other patrons of the gallery, but she didn’t care. At that moment, the levity was welcome.
“That was my first time seeing one.”
“My mother always said they are a waste of good magic,” Lyrei said and led her to a small stone bench on the gallery’s patio. “Do you plan on revealing your feelings to him?”
“I’m not that naive.” Miri replied sardonically and shook her head, “No. I plan on fulfilling my end of this bargain and opening my shop in the Convent as planned.”
She could see it in Lyrei’s eyes, the desire to comfort her, to offer some reassurance that if she confessed her heart, there would be a happily ever after to span the ages. It would be a love story told around fireplaces to eager young girls who still believed in fairy tales, but her silence said enough.
Miri
“Then Aisalan steals the poor old Aelv’s horse and tells him he’ll return it while he’s riding away on it.”
“By the gods, you didn’t!” Miri turned to Aisalan, her hand covering her mouth as she attempted to stifle her laughter.
“Had I known you would spend this evening regaling my intended with tales from our youth, I would have asked to be seated elsewhere,” Aisalan said from behind his wine glass.
Taris smiled and raised his own in a mocking toast, “He’s reformed now, of course.”
“I am not surprised you left out your role in that little misadventure.” Aisalan replied, “After all, it was you who dared me to steal the horse in the first place.”
“Your father was furious.”
“I was not allowed to leave the house for days.”
Miri tried but couldn’t picture him being upbraided by anyone, but the mischievous glint in Taris’ eyes belied the kind of tricksters they were capable of being while together.
The dining hall overflowed with dignitaries and regular courtiers jockeying for position among the powerful. Despite her misgivings, Miri found herself enjoying the surrounding company at their table. From the boisterous older human woman who spoke of her journeys in the wilds to the young Aelven noblewoman Taris escorted for the evening, each member of their table brought their own stories and good humor.
“I
t seems you’ll have a lot to reign in once you’re wed.” The older woman said to Miri with a wink.
Miri nervously laughed, “I’m sure he’ll be able to manage himself. I’ll have own affairs to attend.”
“As it should be!” The woman’s husband responded, his voice filled with pride, “One of our daughters is going into civic service. Never ending work until the end of her days.”
Miri shook her head, “I’m just a simple alchemist.”
“A noble profession.” Taris interjected, “The great mag Cylmist was a renowned alchemist. No battlefield or healing sanctuary could function without one.” He raised his glass and gently clinked it against hers. “A worthy addition to the Vinhar line.”
Miri swallowed and could only offer a small smile in return. The full breadth of their deception had completely slipped her mind, lost as she was in the flurry of daily activities. Aisalan’s fingers grazed her shoulder, a simple touch that took her back to the morning, and a subtle shiver overtook her.
“I need to refresh myself.” She said, rising a bit too quickly. The room had, all of a sudden, become like a prison. Tight and cramped despite the general size and splendor of it. The conversations around her began to muddle into an indistinct roar.
She needed a breath of fresh air, a moment of separation from everything to think and piece her resolve back together. Casting an apologetic smile on the rest of the dinner party, she swiftly sought an exit.
The outer hall was a whirlwind of faces; servants and courtiers, Aelven and human. The peace she sought wouldn’t be found there. Careful to keep her steps measured and calm, she was glad to see the doors leading to the main courtyard were open and released her held breath once the crisp night air hit her face.
The courtyard was surprisingly empty considering the circus the palace had become during the night, and she took the time to wander among the various statues and topiaries artfully arranged around the common area. Many of the figures were unrecognizable to her, likely heroes of the Otravian stronghold.
But one statue, in particular, drew her eye and her feet towards it. The woman was unmistakably human, the rounded ears enlarged to remove any trace of doubt as to her origins. Rather than the beatific smile found in the serene works of the art gallery, her lips were twisted into a fierce snarl, and her stone brow was carved into a furious expression.
Her feet were in an offensive posture, the left foot at a point to signal forward movement, but it was her hands that were the most dynamic, a clenched fist for one and a dagger clutched and raised in the other. Were she alive, the blade would be plunged into her victim with all of the force of a thunderous wave, and she would be unstoppable.
Miri scanned the surrounding area, looking for a plaque that would tell her who this powerful warrior woman was. Footsteps approached from behind, causing her to freeze and steel herself in preparation to provide an explanation for her prolonged departure.
“Syrilla Dolstroy.” A voice said, and she turned to find a human male, no older than 40, gazing at the statue in admiration. He was no servant, his clothing as fine as any Aelven noble with a cerulean broach securing a heavy wool cloak to his shoulders.
“Oh?” Miri turned back and frowned, “I’ve never heard of her.”
The older man laughed, a snide sound that set Miri on edge in its lack of sincerity, “I imagine you haven’t. The Aelven don’t teach the lower castes their history.”
“What is she known for?” Miri asked, choosing to ignore the barb. She kept her eyes on the statue but was mindful of her peripheral vision. Lady Vinhar’s advice had proven true so far and she got the sense the man speaking to her wished her no better than the Aelven females who had similarly withheld their lineage.
He approached and stood next to her, too close for Miri’s liking. The fabric of his doublet brushed against her bare shoulder, and she instantly wished she was back in the bright confines of the dining hall.
“She was born to a noble human family and married to an Aelv to seal an alliance between strongholds.” He said with a smile, reaching forward to gently brush the cheekbone of the statue. “But she held no love for the Aelven. She remained loyal to humanity even as she was forced to share a beast’s bed.”
“A terrible position to be in,” Miri replied.
“Indeed.” The man turned to her, “Her husband was ruthless towards the humans under his charge but assumed he could buy her affections as he had many other collaborators.”
Miri’s eyes narrowed, not at all appreciating where the conversation was going. “And he could not.”
He grunted, “Obviously. When the horns of rebellion sounded across the wilds and spilled into the city, she took her opportunity.”
Miri’s blood ran cold. “She murdered him.” A reflex. A blind statement based on a knee-jerk emotional reaction. She could never imagine taking another’s life.
“She brought justice to her people.” The man corrected, squaring his shoulders, “That battle began outside the city walls and ended with a slain ruler’s funeral procession.”
He turned back to the statue, “She was executed for her crime, but her action made her a martyr among her kin and humans across the continent.”
Miri remained silent, unsure of what kind of response he was expecting from her. She was in awe of the woman’s courage. In all of her years, she avoided the Aelven as much as possible, secluding herself away from their demands of obeisance unless coin was involved.
She held no grand illusions about rising up and overthrowing the long-established order. That this young woman gave her life was an astounding act of bravery that left Miri humbled as she studied the unmarked memorial of her sacrifice.
Her musings were interrupted, “Many of us were quite surprised when Lord Vinhar arrived with a casteless human as his intended.”
“You are not the first to voice that sentiment,” Miri replied.
“Than I am likely not the first to tell you how ineffective this charade has been.” The man replied coldly, “No one of rank would bring a low born human woman into their household.” His fingers lifted to touch one of her curls, “No matter how lovely she may be.”
Miri stepped back and glowered, “If that is the case, then why are you speaking with me? Surely, if it is as you say, I can have nothing to offer someone of your standing.”
His hand lowered, and he clasped both behind his back, “You have fire Miri Third-Born, a flame only a human woman can possess. You have captivated him and weakened his position.”
Miri crossed her arms and lifted her chin, “You don’t have to speak to low born women in poetry.”
“Fine.” He approached, “War is coming. Humanity wishes to be free. The horns of rebellion sound yet again, and, this time, we intend to finish what was started.”
Her mouth ran dry, “I’m not a murderer.”
The man laughed, an unfeeling chortle that didn’t quite reach his eyes, “Nothing so severe. Your role would merely be a continuation of your current one.” He appeared to be holding back a sneer. “You only need spread those pretty legs for Aisalan Vinhar, and keep him occupied throughout tonight.”
Miri’s mouth fell agape, “I-”
“Whatever he is paying you to pretend he holds humans in any regard can be doubled. A hundred sacks of gold if that is what you wish, any price to secure freedom for our people.” He seemed to loom now, his eyes boring into hers with an enthusiasm that bordered on malicious insanity. “Do you not wish you had a name? Do you not feel the pain of mothers as their children are ripped away from them? How many more indignities must humanity suffer purely because of the misfortune of their birth?”
Miri appraised him, taking in his well-coiffed hair and perfect posture. Despite the intrusions of the Aelven, his own Progenitors had fared well, especially if he was willing to offer a hundred sacks of gold coin though that was very likely a turn of phrase. Her mind teemed with questions, but one jumped to the forefront of her mind, “What are you planning?”
“The less you know, the less likely you are to be implicated should anything go awry. Just know that Lord Vinhar’s presence is unnecessary, and he would only be collateral damage.” The man replied. Smooth and practiced.
“You don’t sound certain of success,” Miri said. She was already gone far longer than she should have been and wasn’t looking forward to figuring out an excuse for her prolonged absence but whatever information she could get out of this man, she would.
“We have one target and one target only.” He turned and touched a palm to the statue, closing his eyes as though in silent prayer. “Your name would never be known.” He adjusted his cloak and rolled his shoulders before, “But only you would have to live with the decision of whether or not you chose to be a traitor to your kind.”
He bowed to her then, a mocking gesture to match the distaste in his eyes. Miri watched him leave before finding a nearby bench and collapsing onto it.
Aisalan
Miri would have been easy to miss, bathed in shadow and tucked against a tree, but panic flooded his senses, and sharpened his eye. Upon finding her, he was prepared to demand an explanation.
“You were looking for me.”
He stopped short, “Your absence was noticed.”
“By whom?”
By him, though he could not say it. The words choked off and died in the back of his throat, a testament to his cowardice in the face of genuine emotion. She kept her profile to him but he did not need to look into her eyes to know her weariness. He could hear it in her voice.
He sat next to her and leaned forward to rest his elbows against his knees. “Subterfuge can be tiresome.”
“I’m not well versed in it.” Miri replied.
Aisalan nodded, “I know.”
He would not confess the dread that consumed him when she did not return to his side. The volatility of their surroundings was not lost on him and his mind conjured grim visions as he prowled the palace’s main hallways, questioning any servant or guard he came across. Were she in danger from the Otravians, their household would be the first to cover up her disappearance but rational thought had log fled where she was concerned.
An Ignoble Invitation- the Aelven Dominion Page 14