Once he met Betta, he forfeited the chance to be with Arieve. In Mayr's eyes, Betta had been the most beautiful woman in Dahena, his lust lured in by her big, brown eyes, wavy brown hair, and undeniable charm. Convinced that Betta was the one he was meant to be with, he pushed aside his feelings for Arieve and told himself they were nothing but youthful fantasy. He had remained faithful to Betta, unwilling to betray her.
All of it fell apart when Betta left him. Every emotion he had raged forth, including his feelings for Arieve. Mayr had mourned the loss of Betta and Iliane, caught between cursing Betta's existence and pining for what he mistook as truth. His grief attracted not only Aeley's vengeance and his family's disgust, but Arieve had offered unwavering kindness that broke him further. Her thoughtfulness had stung; her sweetness had tasted bitter to his soul. She had been so sympathetic it burned. He had beaten himself with sad laughter to think she was on the pained side of his false marriage instead of that which made her his wife.
Alone and afraid of betrayal, he had seen a second chance with Arieve present itself and wither. For all his affection, he refused to take advantage of her. At the time, he had not been fit to be anyone's lover. It would have been unfair to shove his unhappiness onto her. In a final decision that still rattled his nerves, he had promised he would not reduce her to being the girl who cleaned up the mess he made.
There was also the fact she referred to him as family. Like a brother, a cousin—something equally as close while being so distant.
After Betta disappeared, he had allowed Arieve to console him. Over time, he started to consider Arieve family rather than a potential lover. To keep his distance, he had sought women who were nothing like Arieve—women who ended up breaking his heart.
But whenever those women left, Arieve tried to make him feel better. Not only did he like the attention, he liked her attention…
Realization smacked him hard.
Mayr resisted jamming his fork angrily into the gravy-drowned vegetables on his plate. Was Arieve another reason he had purposely fallen for those women? Had he used them to gain her affections without stepping over the boundaries? Was he that desperate? Goddesses knew how cunning his subconscious was. Arieve always comforted him. He had let her see the wounds bleeding him dry when he was too scared to show Aeley. Arieve had the smooth touch of water, while Aeley had enough mettle to be a battering ram.
There had always been barriers between them. If not age, circumstance, or perception of familial ties, it was a matter of their relationships. He had always been with someone else, as had she. Arieve had gone through a number of lovers, though she had been with her girlfriend, Coye, the longest. Their on-and-off relationship claimed the better of six years.
Regardless, he pined for her from across the furthering distance. Despite his love for Tash—insatiable and consuming as it was—one look at Arieve made him giddy like a little kid. Hundreds of memories danced in the air between them, playing a tune on his wishes with the truth of what could never be.
The warmth drained from Mayr's face as he glimpsed Tash's smile and felt his playful nudge. Tash had already spent a great deal of empathy on Mayr's emotional downfalls from Betta. Would Tash be as understanding if he knew about Arieve?
Never had he been so embarrassed to care about her.
No, not embarrassed—ashamed. Mayr slipped his restless fingers into Tash's hand and squeezed. Because you're sitting here, ready to marry me, and I'm seeing the shadows of what could've been. All I want is to fall at your feet and beg forgiveness.
As Tash kissed his cheek, Mayr sucked in a breath. "I love you," Tash whispered.
The words destroyed every reply Mayr yearned to give. He never should have invited Arieve to dinner. With her and Tash at the same table, Mayr's skin crawled under the grimy silence of a liar. Although he loathed keeping secrets from Tash, some things were difficult to share.
Their conversation at breakfast made things worse. If he could have spat out the words instead of gagging on them, he would have suggested Arieve be the one they asked to share their bed—if only she liked him that way.
I'll forever be an ass. I'll go drown my stupidity now.
"Hey." Aeley poked his elbow. "Still with us?"
Mayr blinked. "Yeah, I'm just—"
"—working?" Aeley smirked. "Or is the excuse closer to home?" Her glance flickered towards his lap.
"Ae." Mayr pursed his lips. "Not exactly dinner-appropriate."
"When are we ever? Have you seen your guests? Why be on our best behaviour when they're perfectly candid?" Aeley shrugged and sipped her drink. The flared sleeve of her white tunic pooled around her elbow, revealing tan skin lightly marred with scars from fights. "It's refreshing, being ourselves with people who don't want any less. Formal banter is boring."
"Speaking of being ourselves…" Lips twisted as he shifted his thoughts, Mayr drew his thumb around the rim of his goblet. "I need to ask you a serious something."
"And I need to give a serious answer?"
"Preferably." Mayr cleared his throat and leaned close to Aeley, his voice lowered. "Tash and I talked about things going forward, except I need to know if you and Lira will support our decision. We’d like to have a family, but this is your home." He avoided Lira's curious expression. "If you don't want kids around, I understand. If you want us to leave, I'll get us a home that's just ours. I did it with Betta, and I can do it again."
Aeley stared at him. The silence between them warped into tense discomfort.
Her cheeks flushed as her stunned gaze darkened into a glare. Aeley slammed her goblet down. Gaffa nectar splashed over the rim, staining the tablecloth with violet drops. "You unimaginably filthy hole of a horse's ass!"
The shout stilled movement around the table. All banter died. Lira glowered at Aeley before casting Mayr an apologetic grimace.
Mayr shrank back. Aeley's anger crept through his skin and bore a hole into his confusion. Even worse, he hated being watched during a harsh reprimand. "What? What did I say?"
"Don't you dare," Aeley answered, jabbing the table on each word. "Just because Lira and I don't want children doesn't mean we hate them. Don't take away our chance to be aunts and spoil whatever brood you have until they're good and rotten."
"Ae…" Mayr coughed into his fist and looked down the table, eyes narrowed as he challenged the surprised glances.
Estara was the first to catch on. "Back to the futility of taxes," she announced, her sharp gaze pinned on Loftin. She rolled her wrist, gesturing to the rest of the table.
"And the joys of human sacrifice," Loftin added, mimicking his sister's motions with emphasis, "because that's what I'm here for. Plus the food. Always the food."
Snorts and laughter sounded, followed by resumed chatter.
Mayr breathed out, only mildly comforted by Tash's grasp on his knee. "Thanks, Ae, because that's definitely the reason I was practically whispering it to you."
"If you wanted it to be private, you should've waited." Aeley folded her arms and leaned back. "What's done is done, so here's what you wanted to know: stay, raise a family. It might be our home, but it's yours too. We won't kick you out, ankle-biting offspring or no."
Lira reached across the table, her hand falling short of Mayr's. "And if you need help, say so. We'd be happy to assist, any way you need."
"Yeah, don't be stubborn." Aeley grunted and shuffled in her chair until she leaned closer to Lira. "Set a good example."
The blatant scolding on Lira's face while she scowled at Aeley made Mayr laugh. Lira was one of the only people who could chastise Aeley without suffering refusal, backlash, or harsh words. Certainly Lira was the only person Aeley willingly fell to her knees for.
The conversation was far from over, even as the rest of dinner passed with quiet conversation. What focus Mayr managed to keep was spent on his food and the sound of Tash's voice. The biggest distraction was Tash's hand kneading the inside of his thigh, his arousal and Tash's fingers hidden by the tableclot
h. Every time he considered brushing Tash's intimate touch aside, he recalled the previous night. This was the Tash he preferred: happy and playful, needing to touch, even if etiquette raged over it.
The touch grounded Mayr. His nerves calmed. Steady desire soothed his restless thoughts, tethering his need for comfort to Tash's discreet, perceptive ways.
When dinner ended, so did his patience. Once the kitchen staff whisked away the last of the plates, Mayr caught Aeley's gaze and nodded towards the hall.
Aeley dipped her head in agreement. After a kiss to the back of Lira's hand, she followed Mayr from the room. They said nothing on the way to Aeley's study, giving Mayr time to sort his words.
The door clicked shut behind Aeley as she followed him into the study. "I'm sorry," she said, leaning against the door. "I didn't mean to embarrass you in front of everyone. I should've waited, but the whole thing threw me. I thought you considered this your home, completely. Then you were talking like it wasn't and I just… froze, I guess."
"Overreacted, more like," Mayr muttered, glancing at the fire already lit in the small hearth. He crossed the room to Aeley's desk and sat on the edge, gripping the wood in tight fists. If his question at dinner stunned her, she was going to hate what else he needed to say.
"Yes, fine, overreacted. But it was a slap in the face." Aeley sighed and joined him on the desk, perched on the edge beside him. The desk creaked in protest but held them both. "You're the only family I have left. Everyone else is dead or gone." She flicked one of the scrolls lying to her right, her voice quiet. "So when my truest brother starts talking like he wants to leave, I can't help but feel abandoned." With more flicks, the scroll fell to the floor. Aeley shrugged and stared at it. "I've got Lira, but I need a little more, you know? If that means having you and a mob of tiny little droolers, I'll take it."
Mayr sighed, letting his gaze wander over the study. The room had changed little since Aeley's father, Korre, died three and a half years ago. Except for the vibrant portrait of Korre above the door, most of the study remained as Korre had left it. The room was a memorial enclosed in red wood and stained glass, both practical in its use and a way to keep Korre close. Hints of Aeley showed throughout: a smooth, black wood box on her desk containing three of the black-feathered quills she favoured; a blue glass bowl with her favourite brittle spiced nut bark in the top drawer of the desk; and worn copies of the books Korre had read to her as a child tucked in the back of the locked bookcase in the corner to his left.
The most obvious sign of Aeley's use was the hole-riddled target painted on the beige wood planks on the wall to Mayr's right. They had assailed the target countless times since Mayr nailed it to the wall with her help, smashing his thumb and fingers with a hammer more times than he could count. Just thinking about it made his fingertips hurt, accompanied by the memory of Aeley's laughter while he had danced around, cursing every nail in existence. By that point, Korre had taken to his sickbed, leaving his Tract Steward work to Aeley. The target had been Aeley's way to work off frustration whenever her duties became too much.
When Korre's sickbed became his deathbed, however, the target had been assaulted by the rage of heartbreak. The night Korre died, both Mayr and Aeley went round after round on the target, throwing knives until their shoulders ached and tears blurred their vision too much to continue. Since then, the red, white, and yellow circles offered a whisper of comfort at stressful times.
Memories. Comfort. Home. The small room gave Mayr more than he could bear to part with.
He let out a slow breath. "It's not just about children, Ae. Our whole lives will be affected. Some things will have to change."
"Like…?"
"We'll have to rely on Pellon a lot more." Mayr crossed his arms and stared at the floor. "I can't be everywhere at once, so if I stop living up to what you want, I'll understand. If you want someone whose attentions aren't this divided, I'll step down," he said, barely able to stop his voice from wavering. He curled his fingers in the crooks of his arms, clenching them tighter the more his stomach churned. "I'll give up Head of the Guard and let Pellon take over. He loves you like I do, and he'll give his life for yours and Lira's."
A raging flush coloured Aeley's cheeks. Her jaws clamped and flexed. In a flurry, she grabbed the brown book on her desk and beat his arm. "You stubborn, over-considerate ass! Stop being so damn selfless! That's not at all what I want, and you know it!"
The corner of the hard cover scratched Mayr as he leaned away, hands raised in defense.
Aeley tossed the book to the floor, disgust on her face. "You need to have your own life, your own family. So you'll probably end up with a couple of little torments that'll eat up all your time. That's life. Some people even call that normal." She folded her arms and huffed. "And guess what? I'm a big girl now. We can work around these things."
"Aeley, lis—"
Aeley shoved her palm into his face, narrowly missing Mayr's nose. "No, you listen. Have I complained about you and Tash? No, and I don't see any reason to." Frowning, she cupped his cheek. "I don't feel like second best. You need to stop assuming I do."
Mayr bit the inside of his cheek, overwhelmed by a deluge of emotions as if a trap door had bottomed out in his heart. "If you say so," he whispered.
"Why are you being so…?" Aeley withdrew her hand. "You love being Head Guard. Why even suggest giving it up?"
"I'm not used to having everything I want," Mayr mumbled. "I'm waiting for something to happen—for all of it to be taken away. Everything will go wrong and it'll be so bad I can't fix it." He wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his black shirt, drying the few tears that surfaced without warning. "I'm afraid I'll wake up one day and find out I can't have it all. Someone's out there, dying to make me choose, I know it. They're waiting for me to mess it all up so they can make it worse."
"Well it won't be your boy that does it," Aeley argued, "and it certainly won't be me or Lira or your family. We're too stubborn." As Mayr laughed, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "You're stuck with us for the rest of your life. Certainly Tash isn't headed for the door—he's itching to crawl inside you and stay there forever. Not many people would go looking for your former wife so you could have closure. Fewer still would encourage you to get along with her so you could see Iliane."
"He even managed to get you to talk about Betta. You actually told him where you found her."
"Yeah, well, he makes compelling arguments." She tapped his forehead. "My point? Don't worry. He's not going anywhere and we're not kicking you out. I won't ever make you choose between us."
Warm as her words were, a malignant shadow toyed with his doubts. "It's not just that," Mayr murmured, his glance falling to her black pants. "It's everything I can't stop. All the people… the hate… There's a death sentence on his head. Now there's Adren and Ress's mess. What do we do when the peace runs out? What happens if the Shar finds him and comes to collect?" He gagged on the last word as if it were tar.
"The best we can do is move on, be vigilant, and protect those we love. Tash will get the same treatment as Lira. They're family, and you and me, we take care of family. As the heart of Kattal beats, so do we."
In a trick of memory, Mayr swore he heard Korre in Aeley's voice.
He hugged her tight enough to make her gasp and hiccup. "Your father would be proud." Mayr laughed as Aeley flushed and covered her mouth with the back of her hand. "Think he'd approve of my marriage?"
Aeley cleared her throat. "He'd run the committee we're forming to plan the wedding."
"Ha, ha. Funny."
The instant he caught Aeley's droll stare, he knew better. A committee would be the least to form.
"At least he wouldn't have to go through the 'what are your intentions' bit," Mayr said, picking at an imaginary piece of something on his shirt. "We're too old for that."
"Don't count on it. He'd have done it all for you. Besides, I did it already."
Mayr froze. "Wait, what?"
"Oh,
yeah, a while back. Tash took it rather well. He and Lira could write my speeches."
Jaw dropped, Mayr studied Aeley's smirk, waiting for her to say it was a joke. When she shrugged, he closed his mouth.
"To be perfectly honest, I'm thinking of asking Tash to be my official primary advisor," Aeley said. Ankles crossed, she swung her feet, the heels of her boots tapping the desk. "I'm tired of relying on Father's contingent. I'd like someone I can turn to whenever I want, and I could certainly do without the headaches of too many opinions." A scowl tightened her lips. "Assuming I could steal him away. I know he's committed to doing something about Adren, plus the monthly Sacred Assembly meetings and the rites and all the things. There's not much time for anything else."
Mayr blinked, lost for words. That evening was one surprise after another. "You could still ask. I'm sure he'd appreciate it."
"You think? It's not too taking-him-away-from-you?" Aeley leaned back onto her elbows, squashing scrolls beneath her as the desk groaned. "He's thoughtful, not afraid of the ugly side of strategy. Then again, he's been on that side, unlike my advisors. They've always played nice, and they're trained to give the right answers. I'd prefer someone who's lived it. He wasn't raised by tutors and wealthy families. He's seen the lower, middle, and upper classes and whatever's lacking in between."
"Not to mention the dirty work."
Aeley sat up. "He knows the reality, not only the sap-coated truths. I can visit villages and talk to magistrates all I want, but I don't hear everything. Tash knows the truth better than I do." She tilted her head, her expression inscrutable. "He has ideas, new options for old problems. Plus he'll argue with me. He honestly cares about people and doesn't have a private agenda. I could use someone like him. Someone I can trust like you and Lira and Pellon."
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