by Meagan Hurst
“Jazeria,” Z finished before the Shade could. At his raised brow, she rolled her eyes. “She’s from an old family line that has constantly contested the Islierre’s hold on his kingdom. Her father, grandfather, great-grandfather, and great-great-grandfather all likewise made attempts. It is rumored her mother and grandmother from her mother’s line also made attempts, but those were never fully proven—or disproven.” Scowling slightly, Z traced a design on the table’s surface. “They are exiled from Court, but naturally still live within the main city. She has a younger sister, Azabell, whom Shalion is quite taken with.”
Veilantras leaned forward with interest. “How taken with her is he?”
“The only reason it is an unknown relationship is because I haven’t been able to address the issue with the Islierre. Azabell is nothing like the rest of her family, and she would be an asset to the kingdom.” Z’s smile was grim. “Despite the rumors there has never been anything going on between me and Shalion.”
“He’s always implied otherwise. And his advances have been both public and forward.”
“He likes the game. He knows it’s outside my comfort realm, and he knows I have absolutely no interest in him that way. He enjoys making me squirm.”
Crilyne chuckled. “That is putting it mildly. The Islierre is—and has always been—rather hopeful to arrange a match between you two. He has constantly approached me since Nivaradros …”
“Died?” Z inserted heartlessly. “Stop circumventing the word, Crilyne. I am not going to collapse into a useless babbling mess because one being I cared about managed to get himself killed.” Yet even as she said it the lump in her throat returned, her lungs tightened painfully, and she had to close her eyes.
“Is that why you keep closing your eyes?” Crilyne wanted to know. He didn’t press her further, and that gave her a small break from his mood. “When will you call him?”
“Shalion?”
“Who else?”
“I don’t feel like playing his games right now. I have a feeling his attempt to get up-close-and-personal would only result in him getting a dagger thrown at him—between his legs.”
Veilantras coughed, loudly. “He makes that much of a move?”
“You have no idea,” she told the female Dragon dryly. “He makes Nivaradros’s … Nivaradros’s moves look harmless and innocent in comparison. Granted he never did it outside of his lands, but still. I am not surprised there is a rumor going around of us possibly being a possibility. To give you an idea, one of his most minor games was to sneak into my rooms through a hidden passage, and then leave very publicly at three in the morning.”
Crilyne was staring at her as if he had never seen her before. She’d kept his interactions with Shalion to a minimum, due to Shalion’s personality, and the Ryelention’s dislike of the Shade. Veilantras, however, was now laughing openly. “And he’s not dead yet?” Crilyne wanted to know.
Z squirmed. “I knew it was his idea of a joke. I happen to like Shalion, he’s fun when he’s not trying to imply there’s something between us. He’s got a surprising number of talents, and he’s extremely reliable for an immortal. He’s also even tempered and open to new ideas and working with others.”
“When did he start playing his games, as you term them?” Z was always amazed at how much could be revealed in the cold blackness that was a Shade’s eyes.
“Does it matter?”
“Yes,” Crilyne said tightly. “It does. You’re extremely lucky Nivaradros never found out—”
“Are you serious? He witnessed at least three of Shalion’s so-called passes. He was amused!”
“… Or maybe not. I am surprised that didn’t upset him.”
“Need I remind you he’s only been—” she caught herself and winced. “—had only been possibly interested in me for about a year.”
“It was far longer than that, Zimliya,” Veilantras corrected quietly. “Believe me. Nivaradros has been seeking me out—and those of other races including your own—for a good seven years now. He was trying to figure out how to approach you, but he quickly learned very little of what he was told or picked up applied to you.”
Z smiled bitterly. “Some of it applies,” she said as she clasped her hands, and put them carefully in her lap. She was tired of the subject coming back to Nivaradros, but even she had done it herself a few times. “Shalion, are you going to stay hidden in the shadows?” she called out suddenly as she felt a light touch on her senses.
There was a dark laugh, and then the young heir slipped out of his shadowland and into the tent. His eyes were pearl with their amusement. Shalion had the ability to be the dark cat, and he moved as though to take a seat at the table with his easy but dangerous-seeming movements. The ironic part? Shalion was probably one of the safest immortals to be around, and he was one of the heirs she trusted most. He was—she admitted to herself—something like a big brother. When he wasn’t pretending to make a pass at her.
“Hello, Zeets,” he greeted easily, before proving he still loved to try to get a reaction from her. He kissed her—full on the mouth—and his lips remained on hers until she pushed him away. Afterwards, he grabbed a chair and swung it around until it was beside her. Sitting down uncomfortably close to her, he swung an arm over her shoulder while Crilyne just stared. “Hello, Shade,” Shalion sneered. It was the first time he had been himself in front of Crilyne, and it was obvious Shalion no longer cared what the Shade thought.
Crilyne’s astonished gaze moved to her. “You tolerate this?”
“On a constant basis, but I will say this is the first time he’s kissed me.” Z glared at Shalion even as she felt herself relax. Nivaradros’s constant pushing had had some effect on her, although she was also used to Shalion, so that probably played a huge part in her acceptance as well. His teasing was irritating and discomforting, and yet it was also amusing and reassuring. Someone wasn’t walking on eggshells around her.
“You are a fairly good kisser by the way, when you get over your original shock,” Shalion said nonchalantly. He glanced at Veilantras and raised a blue-black and white brow. “Hello, Dragoness.”
“Ryelention,” Veilantras said coolly. “Have you kept yourself apprised of the situations that have occurred here?”
“Not many of them—just enough to know Zimliya wasn’t here.”
“And you required her to be here before you took up your responsibilities?”
“No, but my father and I don’t always see eye to eye, so I avoid him when possible. Plus, with the internal attacks on our kingdom, I figured it was best I kept out of sight. The men here are mine; I asked them to come. They will not listen to my father when I am present, and he is still the Islierre. To avoid making a dispute arise, I thought it would be prudent if I remained afar until Zimliya returned; both of us are slightly scared of her so he would be less likely to kill me when she is present. Not that I’m supposed to say the last aloud.”
Crilyne snorted. “Wise,” he said coolly. “The last part, not the rest of it. We could have used a mage of the shadows who cares for those not of his own kind.” He held the Ryelention’s gaze. “You noticed Zimliya’s immortality?”
“Naturally. It makes her even more striking. If I wasn’t already involved with someone else I would seriously reconsider my earlier decision to let her be.” Shalion offered her a slight smile while she ignored his jest. “But I didn’t hear how it came about, or what drove it to be necessary.”
“I was dying,” she told him softly. “Nivaradros was trying his hardest to keep me alive, but it wasn’t working; nothing he came up with held for long.”
Shalion’s brow rose sharply again. “Nivaradros? Really?” He didn’t look surprised, and Z detected a hint of approval. “He finally moved to actively working with you?—I mean I know he was with us when we created the barrier around Tenia, but he’s still around?”
It hurt, but it wasn’t Shalion’s fault. Z winced as Crilyne hissed and Veilantras growled. “He doesn
’t know!” she snapped at them. Shalion straightened abruptly, and his eyes flashed with concern. “It’s fine,” she told him quietly. “But Nivaradros is dead.”
Shalion withdrew his arm immediately from her. “Dead?” he whispered in astonishment. “Impossible.” Closing his eyes to shield her from their intense and furious orange, the Ryelention hissed softly. “Oh, Z, I had no idea. I am so, so sorry.”
She blinked. “What?”
“I’m not as slow as you think,” was the immortal’s dry reply. But he sobered a moment later. “He claimed you, didn’t he?” She nodded slowly after a pause. “Damn it to hells, I am going to kill him!” Shalion snarled.
“He is,” Veilantras inserted coldly, “already dead.”
“I’m referring to my father,” Shalion retorted with a whisper that was a slap. His eyes opened and made orange look like a peaceful color. “He never so much as implied anything had happened here outside of the normal fatalities that a war will bring. If I had known—” His hand closed into a fist. “Z, I’m so, so sorry.”
That was the second time he had said that to her. She knew he meant it, but it just sounded so wrong. “It’s alright, Shalion,” she told him softly. “You’re here now; between the two of us we’ll bring this war to an end and move to reclaiming the kingdoms that have been taken from within back one at a time—starting with yours.”
“Why mine first?” Shalion demanded sharply.
“Because it’s the furthest away from my home,” she replied softly.
Veilantras’s eyes moved to hers. “And where is that?”
“Nivaradros’s lair—it’s mine,” she warned the Dragon coldly. “And anyone who wants it gets to go through me first.”
“I wouldn’t dream of attempting to take it from you,” Veilantras assured her hastily. “Nor is it likely anyone else will, but, Z, why?”
“He claimed me,” she answered after a long pause. “And I claimed him.” Shalion’s sharp inhalation almost caused her to stop. “I’m not letting someone else defile it.”
“I’d like details—all of them,” Shalion said when Z fell silent and no one had added anything for some time. “Z?”
“I’m still waiting on most of them,” she said quietly. “Today’s my first day—” she glanced up at the see-through roof on the tent and grimaced. “Never mind, second,” she corrected. Closing her eyes briefly, she rubbed her temples. “Who all is here?” she asked Crilyne finally.
He hesitated. “Zimliya, perhaps we should speak of this later—”
“After we get attacked again?”
“After you take some time to yourself, or perhaps I should say, some personal time,” he replied slowly as he glanced at Shalion.
The Ryelention crossed his arms. “There is nothing between us, Shade,” he said coldly. “Zimliya made it utterly clear that nothing would happen between us. And, as I keep saying,” he continued with exasperation heavy in his tone, “I am already in a relationship, once Z has time to get the facts to my father.”
“I’d rather not add anything else into the mix until the wars—or at least this battle—are over,” she told him with care.
He nodded absently, but his attention wasn’t on her. “If you two don’t plan to do anything useful, why don’t you excuse yourself from this pavilion. Your presence is no longer required.” Shalion stood and grabbed her hand to pull her up with him.
She allowed it because he had a point; if Crilyne and Veilantras intended to be closed mouthed about things then she could spend her time in more constructive ways. Putting up with Shalion had an added bonus as well; his constant sly and intrusive touches towards her were irritating the Dragon and the Shade.
There was also—when she was willing to admit it—a part of her that felt Shalion’s improper attention was something she needed to accept or at least grow somewhat used to. Plus, Shalion was harmless, or as harmless as any immortal ever was to anything else breathing, and she suspected Nivaradros’s sudden changes weren’t just a result of speaking and working with Veilantras. Shalion implied Nivaradros had spoken to him often, and she was settled enough—despite what the damn Shade said—to want to learn what she could.
Crilyne’s eyes glittered in silent rage. “Zimliya?”
“He’s not going to harm me, Crilyne, you should know that by now,” she sighed. “And honestly, he’s right,” she added stiffly. “If you intend to let me fight, I have to know things. Whether you want me on the battlefield or not, that is where I will be—with or without your help.”
Veilantras grimaced. “It’s not that we don’t want your aid, Z,” she told her quietly. “It’s more of the fact that you’re handling this well—too well for most people—and we don’t want to overburden you.”
She’d noticed. “Veilantras, I’m fine,” she repeated for what felt like the millionth time. “Or I will be.” Glancing sidelong at Shalion, she frowned. She wanted to know just what the Ryelention knew about Nivaradros. “Crilyne, Veilantras—you are both dismissed,” she said without thinking, but she heard a tone of authority in her voice that neither the Shade nor the Dragon was used to. Both, however, responded instantly to it.
The Shade had to give her a small amount of sarcasm. Bowing low to her as he rose, he glanced once at the Ryelention. “Remember, tents have thin walls,” he informed her helpfully.
“Oh. My. Thanks,” she snarled at him in shock, knowing she was probably red with both anger and utter embarrassment. “Out, Crilyne!” A chuckle was what he ended up leaving her with.
“He’s in a wonderful mood,” Shalion observed with a dark smile once they were safely alone. He finally released her hand and moved to stand on the opposite side of the tent. “Sorry about that, by the way,” he added absently.
“Sure, you are,” she retorted with a roll of her eyes. “I know you too well.”
“You probably do. Your Dragon has—had—a nice taste in décor.” Shalion’s eyes moved easily over the very, very richly decorated area.
There was the very expensive wooden table they were seated at, with its unblemished and obviously immortal-made matching fifteen chairs, the dark leather couches—three of them—with cushions Z could tell from here were filled with only the finest of materials. The couches were also immortal-made, new, and would probably cost a wealthy human merchant a ten year salary to buy, and that would only be the cost of one of them. The floors exposed no dirt or material—and were covered in rugs that Z knew came directly from Istuion. Again, very, very expensive taste. There was a ‘small’ desk—small meaning only six people could comfortably be around it—that was littered with maps, messages, and other bits of information Z hadn’t had a chance to pick through. She had a feeling Nivaradros had raided the Shade’s tent to get them.
There was also a clear ‘living area’ in the vast space of the pavilion. She had a feeling Nivaradros had probably driven everyone up the wall acquiring everything he had decided was necessary—necessary, she knew, in his mind for her. He had obviously intended to fetch her from Midestol at some point, and it was one of the reasons entering here had been so damn hard.
There was a wardrobe that was big enough to hide several people in that Z knew was hand-crafted by the Kalrye Killsti, of all beings, directly. As the Kalrye had hated Nivaradros, she didn’t even want to know how it was possible. It also matched the bed. And it was a bed. Nivaradros apparently had grown impatient with her cot in the Shade’s tent. The bed was carved with enough animation that Z wanted to head over to throttle the Kalrye. The only small bonus to the bed was the lack of a canopy, but Z saw telltale scorch marks and knew the Dragon had solved that problem himself.
A small circle for preparing food was dead center between the bed and the wardrobe, and Z noticed a curtain—a very deep green and heavy curtain—strung up in a circle in the furthest corner of the living area. Investigating since she wasn’t worried about losing herself to anything at this moment, she found Nivaradros had learned that most of the encampment would
share baths; apparently, he didn’t like that idea either. A three foot tall, four foot wide tub was hidden behind the curtain—which took up about twenty feet of space Z had noticed once she had gotten curious enough to see what it was hiding—and it was, again, something immortally crafted and very expensive.
“Obviously the Dragon was far wealthier than he let some of us believe,” Shalion remarked quietly from behind her.
She had been so caught up in her thoughts, she hadn’t heard his approach or sensed his presence; she jumped slightly. “He was,” Z said thickly, turning away. Shalion grabbed her upper left arm to prevent her from avoiding him.
“Hold.” Pearl eyes edged back towards orange. “You were doing fine, what did I say wrong?”
“Nothing, I’m just a stupid mortal—”
“Not stupid, and mortal no longer applies,” Shalion interrupted coolly.
“Foolish and human then,” she snapped. Jerking her arm out of his grip, she stepped around him as he tried to block her in. At one time, he would have been easily able to accomplish it—it was a painful reminder of just what she had gained when she had gotten her immortality.
His eyes were now a very, very light orange. “Z,” he said dangerously. “You cannot chase me out like you managed to do with the Dragon and the Shade. We have to talk.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “But without contact tonight, Shalion, I can’t handle much more of it.”
“Honesty?”
“Of course, I am a Ranger still.” She closed her eyes as she inhaled and forced them open as she exhaled. “Shalion—”
“The Dragon approached me two years ago,” the Ryelention began as he moved around her and took a spot on one of the couches. He gestured for her to sit across from him in the second couch, and Z felt a hint of relief at his silent agreement to her request. “Between the interactions he had personally with you alone, seen you have with me, and watched you have with others, Nivaradros was very curious to find out more about you without having to ask you. He also didn’t want to attract too much attention while he learned what he desired to about you.”