An Ignoble Invitation- the Aelven Dominion

by Dani Morrison

  “You did not think this through.” Her lips quirked into a small smile but her tone was hollow and resigned.

  That much was obvious. He had not foreseen the burden her role could place on anyone, let alone the casteless human woman whose only offense was snaring his eye in the first place. “Not the most upstanding way to begin an affair.” He murmured.

  Miri huffed, “Wise words.”

  “Taris.” Aisalan replied. “At least one other knows the truth of our association.”

  “Believe me Aisalan, Taris is not the only one.” Miri replied with a derisive snort. “Many just choose not to tell you.”

  The faces of the Aelven females from the supan flashed before his eyes and he immediately wondered if they had approached her again. He did not recall seeing them at the dinner, but with his attention entirely focused on the woman at his fingertips, it would have taken a full scale attack on the stronghold for him to notice much of anything else.

  Only through her absence was he made aware of the subtle shift in the mood of the dining hall when a group of men he did not recognize entered. The pressure drop before a storm, their presence caused eyes to avert or brighten depending on some criteria Aisalan was unaware of. His nerves already frayed by Ulther Otravian’s intransigence, Taris soothed him by remarking that he too had noticed the new guests and their effect on the dinner’s attendees.

  He shook his head. It was all speculation and he was no closer to achieving any of Myrenden’s goals.

  “The Otravians want war.” Miri said. “A lot of people do.”

  Aisalan’s shoulders relaxed and he wondered when discussion of war became easier than telling a female he wanted nothing more than to leave this stronghold and sequester them away where the world could never find them.

  He could feel her slipping through his fingers, the bond barely woven in the hushed hours of the morning already strained by their positions. He could give her anything she asked for save what she desired.

  “If I could go back in time and undo much of our role in this, I would.” He said.

  He didn’t know if she believed him and, even if she did, mere words would never be enough. For him, the annals of history were merely chronicles of a time long passed, an era so far removed from their own that assigning emotion to it was as pointless as drinking water from a sieve.

  It had never occurred to him that what was merely history to him translated into so much more for her. She was barely a bit player in her own world. Order meant nothing if one could scarcely control something as simple, and precious, as their own fate.

  He stood, “I do not know the way forward and, even if I did, it is unlikely many would take heed. I came here hoping to appease the Otravians, but it seems they have made their decision.”

  He heard Miri rise and turned to face her, “They would not be able to defeat the dominion, and Myrenden would be expected to carry out Omel Dorei’s declaration.”

  “Then, all of this was for nothing,” Miri said, her eyes searching his.

  “Ulther has until tomorrow midday to provide valid justifications for his demands, or stand down, but I fear all of this was arranged as a final show of false faith.”

  A breeze rushed through the courtyard, bringing with it the sound of diners filing out into the palace’s main hall. He would need to speak with Taris again before he could retire for the evening, but something still plagued him, her disappearance had yet to be explained and words lingered, unspoken.

  She was subdued, her eyes missing the inner spark that usually nourished him.

  He raised his hand to her cheek, “What else hides within you, dhaoiri?” He whispered, “Your eyes are full of secrets.”

  She looked into him, or through him, he was not sure. “I think the day is catching up with me.” A safe enough response. “I’m ready to retire for the evening.”

  He felt her shiver, a slight motion that made him want to wrap himself around her. As her intended, he was well within his rights to do so. It would make the fiction he wove around them all the more convincing. He chose restraint.

  “I will have one of the guard escort you to our rooms. I must speak with Taris.”

  Miri

  Miri was thankful to have a few moments alone. Aisalan’s company, while confusingly welcome, only served to remind her of the stranger’s words. Something terrible was about to happen, and whatever it was involved someone she had come to know and care for.

  The man’s insults were secondary. He wasn’t going to be giving her a letter of introduction anytime soon and it was always easy to find people to throw away.

  She had never seen war but had heard enough about it to know it would be disastrous, a quagmire of sorrow and death that would further and deepen the suffering already experienced by many who lived on the fringes of society.

  She walked to the mirror and observed her reflection. For a moment, Miri barely recognized herself. Like staring through a bowl of water, the harsh truths of objective appraisal left surreal impressions of reality in their wake and she had to admit that her personal feelings were involved as well.

  She liked him.

  Miri exhaled a deep breath at finally being able to admit it to herself without caveats. Her primary goal was always in mind, but underneath that lay the simple truth of avoidance. She didn’t want to get hurt, and all signs pointed toward their affair ending in pain if she allowed herself to fall under the spell Aisalan easily crafted.

  Her fingers lingered on the hooks at the side of her gown as she carefully released them. The expensive fabric felt coarse and foreign against her skin, another reminder of the impermanence of the reflected vision.

  The dress removed and tossed aside, she threw herself down on one of the chairs, choosing to remain in her shift for the rest of the evening. A fire had been stoked at some point during the night, and the remaining wood popped and crackled, the sound soothing her frazzled nerves.

  The door opened, and she watched Aisalan converse with someone in the hall before closing the door and pinching his nose between his fingers.

  “What’s happened?”

  His hand dropped to his side, and he walked over to a small cabinet next to the fire place. He removed a bottle from it before joining her in the seating area. The cap was quickly discarded and he tipped the bottle up for a hearty swig, a visible shudder running over him as he swallowed its harsh contents.

  “They’ve decided to move the last session to a new location.”

  Miri shifted in her seat, righting herself instantly. “Why?”

  “We do not know, but it is suspicious. It does not give our guard much time to learn new floor plans or patrol schedules.”

  She leaned forward, plucked the bottle from his hand, and took a small swig. It was now or never. “A man approached me in the courtyard.”

  Aisalan paused, his fingers lingering on the hooks of his trousers, “Who? What did they want?”

  “They didn’t give a name.” Miri replied, “And I didn’t think to ask. The encounter was so unexpected I...” She shrugged and shook her head, not knowing what to say.

  “He wished to remain anonymous.”

  “I’d imagine so.” She continued, “They intend to incite rebellion and I was asked to keep you occupied throughout the night.”

  Aisalan ripped his trousers off, frustration evident in his motions. “That was a very bold.”

  “They only have one target,” Miri said quietly.

  He took the bottle back from her, but his eyes narrowed from behind it. She should have said something earlier. There was a slim chance the man was a dinner guest, and with his face still fresh in her mind, she may have been able to identify him discreetly.

  She was surprised when Aisalan, instead, pulled her to her feet. “You have fought many battles on this field.”

  “Duriah warned me about how dangerous the courts could be.” She chuckled, “I shouldn’t be so surprised.”

  Aisalan huffed and shook his head. “A brothe
r of the Iron Hand would have more exposure to the seedier aspects of court life than most.”

  He gently clasped her arm and drew her to the bed, extinguishing lamps along the way until only one remained lit. A hush fell over them, and Miri wondered if he was still processing the implications of the day's events.

  He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her between his legs while wrapping his hands around her hips .“Shouldn’t you be warning Taris about what I’ve told you?”

  “I will.” He replied, his eyes traveling up her body before meeting hers, “When there are fewer eyes.”

  She had completely lost track of time. Somewhere between the encounter with the man in the courtyard, and now, it seemed to stand still and rush forward all at once. “What are you doing?”

  He continued his appraisal, his gaze now settled on the crook of her arm, “Committing you to memory.”

  Miri laughed, “By the gods, Aisalan, really?” She stepped back, only to have him pull her forward and tumble her onto the mattress.

  “You have wounded me.” He replied with a smile, “I thought that was poetic.”

  “It might be best to continue your current path as treasurer.”

  One more day. Unbidden, the reminder played across the back of her mind. She rubbed a hand down her face, “Even with the letter of introduction, I highly doubt the High Administrator will approve anything a human asks for once Omel Dorei declares war.”

  Aisalan frowned and rested his head against his fist, “That should have no impact on your approval.”

  Miri snorted and cut her eyes to him, “You think that’s how things work?” She turned on her side to face him, “No. It will become far more political. Before we were just a curiosity, he’d reward us for our audacity. If the dominion declares war?” She allowed the sentence to trail off, giving Aisalan the benefit of the doubt and hoping he could at least put those pieces together.

  “Such actions could further endanger Myrenden’s cohesion.” Aisalan replied, his tone laced with worry. “I would do everything in my power to prevent our stronghold falling into civil unrest, but there are far more hands than my own involved.”

  Everyone had their place, and even someone with Aisalan Vinhar’s reach could only extend so far. The title of Grand Treasurer masked the role of a civil servant. There were far more powerful titles that would benefit significantly from the hysteria and destruction of a renewed push into the human realm by the dominion.

  His fingers drifted over the exposed skin of her shoulders, the thin fabric of the shift doing little to block the heat of his touch. Then finally to her face, delicately tracing the curve of her lip before capturing her chin to tip her face upward.

  One more day and it would all be over, but it wasn’t losing the maidservants or gowns that caused her chest to seize with loss. She met him halfway, tangling her fingers in his hair to pull his lips to hers.

  They barely stopped to breath, the dam of pent up frustration and worry combusting into an inferno of impulsive passion that led to Miri’s shift being undone and tossed aside within moments.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Aisalan

  Her muscles fluttered under his touch as his hands sought out whatever they could greedily cover in heated reverence. Aisalan pulled Miri closer, rolling her body under his and groaning at the feel of her through the fabric of his braies. His attention drifted to her neck, where her pulse hammered in a tantalizing staccato he had to taste.

  He danced his tongue over the delicate patch of flesh, and relished in the small sounds that emanated from her throat. He rolled his hips against her and groaned when the evidence of her desire caused a delicious combination of slide and friction between them.

  Miri moaned, arching into his mimicked thrusts and he withdrew, moving lower to tongue the peaks of her breasts, intent on fully consuming every inch of her. They stiffened in the room’s cool air and he couldn’t resist the urge to gently tug them with his teeth, enjoying the way she offered them to him with a delighted lack of restraint. Aisalan fisted himself through his braies and prayed to Elias that he would be able to hold off his completion until however long it took to bring on Miri’s own.

  In the morning, he had brought himself to ecstasy imagining her quivering thighs wrapped around him. She haunted him during the day, always dancing to the forefront of his thoughts at the most inopportune moments. His initial theory that she would be a welcome distraction had been proven true in the worst and best ways. To have her now almost induced delirium.

  He continued exploring her body, nibbling the rounded flesh right before her mound and sitting back on his heels to truly take in the picturesque vision her lustful state inspired.

  Miri stared back at him, her eyes heavy-lidded, and lips swollen from their kisses. A shiver ran through him when she rose and leaned on one elbow. Her other hand reached forward to pull at the strings of his braies and his control snapped. In an instant, his lips were on hers and he feverishly rushed to remove the last barrier between them.

  He hissed when the naked length of him pressed against her dewy folds, and gritted as teeth when Miri’s head flew back, and she ground herself against him. His hand flew to her hips, stilling them. “It is your turn to exercise patience.” But he couldn’t stop himself from reaching between them to rub the tip of his shaft against the fecund wellspring of her entrance.

  She smiled, a lascivious thing that curled her lips into something devious he hoped to draw out of her again and again, “You are no one to lecture me on virtue.”

  Aisalan chuckled, nipped at her jaw, and began his slow slide into her. “Fair point.”

  She tensed, and his muscles protested under his restraint. He could simply thrust through and bury himself into the welcoming heat of her willing body. He returned his attention to her neck as he reached the full depth of her womb, and groaned at the sensation of her around him, squeezing and massaging his length while her body adjusted to the intrusion.

  His thrusts began slow and shallow, barely withdrawing before sheathing himself again. Her hitched breaths soon mellowed, and before long, the rocking of her hips mimicked his own until he finally withdrew entirely and delved into her again, eliciting a passion-filled cry that spurred him further.

  He wanted her greedy for him, as needy as he was whenever she was out of sight or just beyond his grasp. An all-consuming desire that threatened to immolate her from the inside until she was nothing more than a pile of ash. He shifted enough to work a hand between them and slowed his thrusts as his fingers swirled around that sensitive bundle of nerves that produced the sweetest sounds when plucked.

  She arched and her mouth fell open into a voiceless scream. Aisalan’s hips stuttered as he continued his attentions, a steady application of light pressure that caused her to spasm around him. He could feel her silken vice tightening, and he raised himself on one arm to bear witness. Her release came over her like the dawn, brimming with potential and promise before erupting into the full splendor of day.

  Her keening wail was swallowed by his lips, and not too soon. His breaths were ragged, sweat clung to his back causing chills in the cool night of the room, and Aisalan could only continue for few more moments before he buried himself fully. White exploded behind his eyes, and the pressure released like bottled steam, his body desperate to spill his seed as deeply into her as possible.

  He needed to possess her fully, and he almost scrambled off the bed when the thought railroaded its way to the front of his mind. The pleasure they shared was mutual, but pleasure wasn’t the only thing he sought from Miri Third-Born. He wanted all of her.

  Miri

  He would leave soon, and the sooner he did, the sooner Miri could piece together the confusing set of emotions threatening the fragile peace she had made with their relationship. The silence that descended between them was weightier than the others, a slew of words left unsaid seemed to build a barrier against the camaraderie they usually shared while alone.

  She had n
ot thought laying with him would change anything between them, but as they remained in that moment of stillness, she took the time to perform the action she had just scolded him for earlier in the evening. Her eyes swept over him, and she committed him to memory. The strong planes of his chest, the narrow v that joined his abdomen to his hips, the silvery mass of hair the Aelven were generally far too vain to cut, and his eyes, a shade of violet she would be able to pick out in a crowd.

  He rose and walked over to a small trunk perched on top of a side table, causing Miri to sit up, “I think your pants are somewhere on the floor.”

  “No.” He was only occupied for a few moments before he returned, a large scroll in hand, it’s bright jeweled seal catching the lamplight.

  Miri huffed and rolled her eyes, “Excellent timing, Aisalan.”

  He at least had the wherewithal to nervously clear his throat as he handed it to her, the key to her future in the palm of her hand. As they arranged. “Why are you giving this to me now?” She asked, cocking her head to the side, “Payment for services rendered?”

  His eyes comically widened before he stammered out a response, “What? No!” For once he appeared uncomfortable under her scrutiny. “I mean you no dishonor.” His voice was subdued but sincere and her eyes fell to the thick rolled vellum.

  Even the material the letter was written on spoke to the wealth of the individual who commissioned it. The seal sparked when her finger brushed it before unlatching to allow her to read the letter’s contents.

  The Aelven print was precise, executed in perfectly straight columns descending the page. It was as much a work of art as it was a simple document. A letter of passage bought and paid for with a pound of flesh. Her eyes almost watered at the thought.