An Ignoble Invitation- the Aelven Dominion

by Dani Morrison

  “My home is yours.”

  Epilogue

  Aisalan

  “I can’t believe you’ve managed it,” Taris said, slapping Aisalan on the back. His friend was in surprisingly good spirits for an Aelv with a mark on his head.

  The assassination attempt had left him shaken at first but only increased his resolve to become a better heir to his stronghold.

  Rather than buckle to the pressure of a select few powerful voices, Taris was among the first in the Kolan stronghold to propose standing in neutrality in the face of the dominion’s demands for warriors and weapons. It was far easier for Omel Dorei to declare war than for the strongholds of the human realm to fully support it.

  With Ulther Otravian loose in the wilds, and as many humans supporting him as not, Aisalan knew the rebellion would drag on for however long it took until either side could no longer afford to fight.

  His thoughts strayed from the tides of war when the new Lady Vinhar swept through the room. The young female Aelv in a soldier’s kit and human magi, beside her, would have been an unusual sight among a sea of courtiers, but whatever his intended demanded, she received.

  Convincing Miri to stay for a night had been easy, but it had taken months to convince her to stay permanently. With the Otravian war raging in the wilds, her nights were often longer than his and he, more than once, had crept down to her small laboratory to check on her only to find her asleep at her desk.

  “New shipments of Farshot should be arriving in Kolan within a couple of days.” Taris continued, “My father is considering placing The Philtre and Crown under patronage.”

  “She will never allow it.” Aisalan laughed, “But you are free to try my friend.”

  He left Taris to his drink and circled the room, keeping his eyes on the smooth expanse of copper skin delightfully displayed in a backless silk gown. He edged closer, his imagination swimming with the idea of pulling her into an alcove to steal a few moments of her precious time.

  It wasn’t to be. Aisalan stifled a groan when the sound of tines hitting crystal caused Miri to turn in his direction, and before he could piece together what was happening, her small hands were wrapped around his own and pulling him toward the dais where his mother and father sat; the Progenitors of their line.

  “A toast,” his father began, his tone crisp and clear despite old age, “As these two are joined, may we all join them in celebrating new life and possibilities.” He lowered his glass, extending it to Aisalan and Miri both, “To a long life and peaceful future.”

  The swell of applause surrounded them as honey was poured over a statue of Elias displayed in the center of the room. The announcement of their impending joining required political finess, but none could deny their match.

  Aisalan took Miri’s hand and led her to the makeshift altar. He watched as she poured some of her drink over the statue, closed her eyes, and spoke a silent prayer.

  The festivities could continue, but before they could slip into a night of revelry and debauchery, Aisalan leaned over a single question on the tip of his tongue, “Are you disappointed yet dhaoiri?”

  The smile she turned on him was dazzling and made his heart almost stop in his chest, “No.” Miri replied. “Never.”

  As an Aelv of his word, Aisalan Vinhar would do everything in his power to ensure that never changed.