The Rise of Nazil- Complete Epic Fantasy Trilogy

by Aaron-Michael Hall

  “The high lords and ladies, and the council,” Urdan said, not meeting his eyes. He stood to leave, pausing beside him. “It’s a good match.”

  Jarin buried his face in his hands once he was alone. He’d never met anyone that captivated him the way Sahma did. How he’d fallen for her so quickly puzzled him. Numerous women attempted to gain his attention and even more, his bed. He received his pleasures often, yet never considered marriage until meeting Sahma. She was dissimilar than any others he’d met, and her beauty was enhanced by both her innocence and kindness.

  He pounded a fist on the table. He’d complete his duties for his family, and Yarah as well. But before he did, he needed to see Sahma again. He was certain that she would’ve accepted his pledge, and he’d almost offered it. Now, he was relieved that he hadn’t.

  With a defeated sigh, he pushed up from the table. If Gwendolyn would arrive in fourteen suns, then he’d go to Sahma before that time. He needed to let her know what was in his heart and what his obligations wouldn’t allow. She knew about the possible pledge; however, she didn’t know that he was against it. He didn’t want her to think that his words or actions were dishonest. At least, he could do that much .

  Half a Man

  Nearly half a glass had passed since Dalia arrived at the door. The swirling thoughts pervading her mind kept her pacing, unable to gather her resolve. Wringing her hands, she attempted to summon the courage to knock. Though, each time she raised her hand, she lowered it again. There was so much she wanted to say, and more that she needed to know. What Sarai had revealed didn’t matter to her, and that, she didn’t understand.

  Dalia raised her hand again, not knowing how to begin explaining her feelings to him, or to herself. Her sister and many others wouldn’t approve of her decision, and she could understand their position. She couldn’t deny Beilzen’s past or how he was perceived, but that wasn’t the man she knew.

  She attempted to knock once more, but her confidence waned, and she shook her head instead. The courage that swelled within her earlier had faded. She sighed, turning to leave. As she raised her head, Beilzen was approaching from the far end of the corridor. When he saw Dalia standing at his door, he smiled, hastening his steps. It had been weeks since he’d seen her.

  “Dalia—”

  She silenced him with a kiss, causing him to stumble against the door. His breathing grew heavy, fidgeting with the door’s handle and pushing it open. They never released each other, nearly toppling through the open door.

  “I’ve missed you,” Beilzen was finally able to say.

  “I’ve missed you, too,” she said, closing and latching the door. “Where’s Fáelán?”

  “He—he’s training with Symeon,” he said timidly, as she unclasped his tunic, gliding her hands over his chest. “I just left them.” His eyes closed tight, feeling the eruption of heat surging through his body. When she reached for his laces, his eyes blinked open, and he took a step back.

  She closed the gap between them, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Then there’s time,” she said, kissing him again and continuing to explore.

  “Wait, please, Dalia wait,” he protested.

  “We’ve waited long enough. I don’t care what anyone thinks about you or us.”

  He staggered back a step, bumping into the end of his bed. “No, Dalia. You don’t understand. I’ve tried to tell you. I—I can’t please you. I wish that I could, truly. There’s nothing more I desire this moment than to taste you and feel the warmth of your touch. But I can’t…I could never—”

  His protest ended when she loosened the laces of her gown, allowing it to fall to the floor. He stared longingly as her bust burst free from her bodice. Lowering to the edge of the bed, he admired her naked beauty, unable to turn away.

  “If your desire is to taste me,” she said, positioning her breasts a hair’s breadth from his face. “What are you waiting for?”

  Without further resistance, he reached out to her, leaning forward. “Oh, gods,” he breathed.

  Dalia’s eyes rolled back, as he took them both at once, causing her knees to weaken. She unfastened the remaining clasps on this tunic, fully exposing his chest. “Yes, we’ve waited long enough,” she said, drawing him in closer while lowering on the bed. His movements never ceased, savoring all that she’d allow. When she lifted his face to hers, he moaned, feeling her tongue encircle his. Beilzen rolled atop her then, sliding his hands down her abdomen. His eyes closed, feeling the immense saturation from her arousal.

  “Beilzen,” she whimpered as his fingers continued to work.

  He kissed downward, his mouth tasting every part of her, leaving pleasured tingles in its wake. As he began his intimate kiss, she squealed, clutching at the man pleasing her like none other. Her body shuddered as her satisfaction peaked, encompassing her in continuous waves of pleasure. She called out the name of her lover, increasing in volume as the intoxicating ecstasies escalated.

  “Oh…yes…” she breathed, twitching and drawing him back up to her. She kissed him passionately, hungrily, clutching at his back and arse.

  The feel of her breasts against his chest made him yearn to be a part of her. He kissed her again, not wanting to be free from this moment.

  “Was I able to please you?” he whispered against her lips.

  “No one has ever made me feel the way you have. I never knew what true pleasure was meant to be.”

  He forced back the emotions threatening to overtake him. Never did he think he could please a woman again, or that he’d even have the opportunity to try. He brushed her lips with his, sliding to her side. He could go no further, though he wished it otherwise.

  “Don’t I please you, too?”

  “More than you could ever know, Dalia. I’ve given you all that I can. I—I have nothing more to offer.”

  She stroked his chest, kissing down his neck. Every soft touch left lingering trickles of pleasure. His body shuddered, enjoying the feel of her warm tongue and fingers. When her hand slid down his abdomen, he raised up, reaching for her wrist.

  “I—I don’t have anything else to offer,” he said, casting his gaze downward. “I’m sorry, I can’t—”

  “You have more to offer than you know, Beilzen. Won’t you let me touch you?”

  “You don’t understand. I—”

  She kissed him again. “I do understand,” she said, sliding her hand down further. Beilzen flinched as her fingers gently caressed where his manhood once stood. Her expression didn’t change as she searched his body, continuing her massage. Her touch was more gratifying than he could’ve imagined. He laid on his back, allowing her to continue.

  He didn’t move when she untied his laces, slipping a hand down into his trousers. As she nestled into his chest, her hand never ceased its movement.

  “I’m in love with you,” he said, suddenly. “It isn’t fair for me to say so or expect anything in return, but I needed you to know my heart. Even half a man can love a beautiful woman.”

  “You’re not half a man, Beilzen. Never have I been so well pleased in both my heart and my body. Still I feel it. There’s nothing I desire that can’t be found in you.”

  “How do you know that you won’t long for what I can never provide? I can please you now, but it might not remain so. I can’t become a part of you, and could never satisfy that yearning.”

  “Will you tire of sharing my bed and my heart?”

  “Never would I. Until you came, I thought myself incapable of such feelings. I’d never tire of loving you, tasting you, or feeling your body tremble beneath me.” He kissed down to her chest while sliding a hand down her abdomen. Her moans were immediate, and he didn’t cease until he’d pleased her again.

  “I’ll never tire,” he whispered.

  He kissed her cheek, and then went to the basin, splashing water on his face. He was overwhelmed by their lovemaking. Though he couldn’t become part of her, he considered it no less.

  As Dalia replaced her dress, he
fastened his tunic, taking a seat beside her.

  “I love you, too,” she said.

  “Yet another blessing that I don’t deserve, but willingly and graciously accept. Are…are you certain that it’s my heart you wish to share?”

  “Are you reneging on what you’ve said, Lord De Braose?”

  He chuckled. “Never.”

  “There’ll be much talk in the citadel soon,” she said.

  “Let them talk. There’s nothing that could dampen my mood this day.”

  “Nor mine.”

  “Dalia, could you…I mean, would you consider accompanying me to my home for evening meal? My father would be delighted to meet you.”

  “Your father? You’d want him to meet me?”

  “Why wouldn’t I? I’ve already told him about the beautiful woman who’s stolen my heart.”

  “I’m human, Beilzen, and once spoiled. Your father might not be pleased about the development of our relationship.”

  Beilzen turned her to face him. “Truly? I’d alter nothing if given the opportunity. I’m the one lacking, and you love me despite that. My father is Nazilian, but he’s never regarded humans as less. He loves me, he loves my son, and he’ll love you, too. We haven’t merely grown close, Dalia, it’s far beyond that. When I introduce you to Perrin de Braose, I’d like to do so as my pledged or promised, either way you’d want to refer to our betrothal.”

  “Promised?”

  “If you feel me worthy, yes. It’s difficult, I know. I’m a man, and yet I’m not. Even with what I lack, I promise to do everything within my power to ensure your happiness.” He held her hands, not turning from her eyes. “You deserve more than I’ll ever be able to give, and if there’re other means of providing you physical pleasures, I’ll learn them. Please, would…would you honor me by becoming my wife?”

  “You want to marry me?”

  “You’re asking as though it’s an impossibility.” He smiled. “I thought having a family, and a wife to share my life would never happen. Even before my…mistreatment , no one accepted my offer of pledge. Now, I understand why.”

  When a look of incredulity crossed her face, he gently squeezed her hands.

  “If I’d married then, I wouldn’t be with you now. You were worth the wait and the pain of those rejections. Dalia, I—I understand if you don’t accept, and I won’t rush your decision. No matter what you decide, I’ll still love you. I know that I can’t please you like a man should, not completely. I promise—”

  “Yes,” Dalia interrupted.

  “Yes?”

  “I want to marry you, Beilzen. Manhood doesn’t lie between your legs. It’s found in your heart.”

  Beilzen felt lightheaded. “Are you another gift from the Guardians?”

  “I’m your promised, Lord De Braose, and soon to be your wife.”

  Healing

  He could feel that early chill in every part of him and still sweat beaded his brow. The goose prickles raised on his arm as the coolness of the season washed over him. However, the chill he felt within was even more overwhelming. That loss—that emptiness couldn’t be soothed. No matter the amount of wood tossed within the hungry orange and yellow spikes whipping out at him, that loss was interminable.

  He walked to the shuttered window, noticing the condensation forming in its corners. The light of the noonday sun dotted the room, as its warming rays attempted to penetrate the heavy wood blocking its path. He squinted when one luminescent beam stretched and met his face. Danimore reached out to a clinging droplet, allowing it to adhere to his finger. He observed that drop roll and shift with the movement of his hands. The coolness caused a shudder, though he didn’t know why. He clasped his fingers around the drop, leaving only the remnants of moisture behind.

  Glancing over his shoulder to his bed, a wistful smile found his face as he reached for another drop. Each one identical, yet different from the last. Each representing an opportunity that he hadn’t taken.

  “Choice,” he whispered.

  Since the death of their son, it was all that occupied his thoughts.

  “Choice,” he repeated. Had he believed more in Nikolina’s lies than the fear of his wife? He asked that question repeatedly. It would forever plague him though he knew the truth—a truth that mattered little now. He hadn’t trusted in Nikolina more than his wife. It was his honor and the need to make right the wrong he’d done. It wasn’t wrong. Howbeit, there was no right of it, either.

  “You took me…all of me,” he lamented, fighting against the forming tears. But it was more than that. More than the violation Nikolina committed. She took their son…his first.

  He sat by the hearth, attempting to remove the chill from his body. That chill that he couldn’t seem to warm, no matter the heat that surrounded him.

  Zeta hadn’t left him, but she wasn’t there with him either—not emotionally. She remained in their chamber, only moving from the bed when Brahanu or Thalassa visited. He couldn’t remember the last she’d smiled. Even having Ayrmeis at her breast did little to relieve the ache she felt—the loss. She loved him, and that made it even more difficult. Except for his coloring, Ayrmeis appeared Nazilian…just as Godfrey had.

  When he heard a soft moan, he gazed across the room. He wanted to go to her—he needed to, yet he didn’t move. Danimore stared over at the bed where Zeta lay. Her thick, red hair lay across her bare shoulders with the covers resting just above her breast. He smiled, thinking of the first time they’d lain together. That night, he’d realized the comfort she brought to him. Everything seemed a distant memory. The heartache they endured then was infinitesimal compared to now.

  He took a deep breath with the recollection. This, all of this he’d done to keep Raithym and Zeta safe. Never could he have known the sacrifice that would be demanded.

  “Godfrey Jansen Benoist,” he said, mournfully. “My firstborn son.” His head lowered as the tears fell freely. He didn’t know how long he’d sat there nor did he care. This was the first time that he’d truly released the anguish he felt. He needed to be strong for Zeta, but he was not. He was not. His heart had broken into a million pieces, and he knew not how it would ever mend.

  “Dani?” Zeta said in barely a whisper.

  His head snapped up. When he saw her hand raise, he was quick to her side.

  “Zeta?”

  “Dani…please…please,” she said, blinking languidly.

  He slid her hair from her face, kissing her cheek.

  “I love you,” he whispered.

  “Dani—”

  “I love you, Zeta. Please forgive me…please,” he pleaded, burying his face in her shoulder.

  “I don’t blame you, Dani, not anymore. The fault was mine. Godfrey would be with us had I—”

  “Don’t, Zeta, please, don’t. You’ve done nothing wrong. I was foolish and didn’t heed your warning. This is why—why she was able to use me so. Forgive me. I only wanted to free us from her scorn. I didn’t know; I couldn’t.” He wept.

  She raised up, embracing him. The pain she felt was unbearable. The Guardians had healed her womb, yet that did nothing to dull her pain. She wept, thinking of her son—thinking of Danimore’s first true son. No longer could she give this to him. Nikolina would birth his child. Nikolina , Zeta thought as her eyes clenched shut and she held Danimore tighter. After raising his face to hers, she lowered to the bed, moving the blanket aside.

  He shook his head, trying to cover her nakedness.

  “Yes, Dani. I need you to be a part of me. I need your child growing within me.”

  Danimore nodded, although he was grief-stricken. He leaned down, tenderly kissing her lips. Not since before Godfrey’s birth had they been intimate. He forced back his emotion, kissing between her breasts and down her stomach. He prayed that his body would respond to his wife’s desires. He prayed.

  Insight

  “To think your opponent can defeat you is to admit limitations within yourself. Once your mind believes defeat is possibl
e, it will undermine your body, allowing that defeat to come to pass.”

  Wosen’s expression was puzzled as he crossed his twin blades down in front of him. No longer did he relax from his defensive posture. That mistake had cost him in their last session. Symeon came on strong, noticing the relaxed demeanor, and Wosen’s bruises were still evident from that lesson.

  “I don’t understand, First Chosen. Didn’t you speak the opposite not long ago?”

  “You hear only half my words, young Wosen. Confidence in your fighting prowess isn’t the same as invincibility.”

  “How am I to believe that I’m superior while admitting my weakness?”

  “There will always be someone who can defeat you, Chosen of Nazil. However, he’ll have to prove that skill in battle. The victory shouldn’t be handed to him as you wage a battle within yourself. A loss could mean your life. Here, in the practice chamber, such dangers do not exist. On the field of battle, the opposite is true. Always fight and defend as if losing means death. To do otherwise is foolish. Know that you can only truly lose once. Let one blade slip through your defenses, and Wosen Neufmarche is no more.”

  With that, Symeon turned, moving away. Wosen ruminated on his statements, digesting both their truth and wisdom. As he lowered his blades, Symeon spun around, advancing furiously.

  Wosen barely managed to bring his right sword up to parry, staggering back at the fierceness of his attack. Symeon pressed forward, completing a combination of moves that kept Wosen on his heels, slicing wildly to avoid a direct hit. Symeon thrust with his dagger, causing Wosen to bring his left sword up, while shifting sideward. Before he could repost, Symeon’s sword half-sliced in a feint, eliciting the expected response from Wosen that allowed Symeon to wrench his sword away while coming up with a knee, knocking Wosen more off balance and grasping his chest.

  Wosen tried to recover, bringing his right blade back up to parry the oncoming sideswipe. The move came too late. Symeon easily batted the sword away, and then clutched a pressure point on Wosen’s wrist, forcing him to drop his remaining blade. Edging his dagger against Wosen’s throat, Symeon locked eyes with him, standing a hand’s breath from his face.