by Marian Tee
Shock reverberated through the High Circle.
“At the request of Misty herself.”
This time, they were not just shocked. They were aghast. Even Lysander didn’t believe he had heard Milo correctly. What woman in her right mind would willingly shun marriage to Domenico Moretti? The man was not just any Lyccan royal. If the rumors and the legends were to be believed, Moretti was supposedly destined to unite all Lyccan packs under one rule.
“And why would she choose to follow us?” Lysander didn’t see which of the High Circle had asked the question, but he was interested to hear the answer to it as well. She must have an ulterior motive.
Milo answered shortly, “Heartbreak.”
More gasps and mutters filled the chamber.
“Moretti himself would be the first to admit that she had been of great help to him in uniting warring packs. She can do something similar for our race. Most of us have spent our entire lives within this realm. Even though a long time has passed since the Great War, we all still bear its scars.”
Aware of the gazes that strayed to him, Lysander maintained an impassive face at the mention of the event that decimated his entire family. Once there had been hundreds of Allards---a family known for its proud and noble ancestry. Their courage was a legend among their kind, but it was that courage that also pushed to be the frontline of defense for the Faeries. It meant that they had been the first to die, too.
He had been the youngest in the family when the war started, and when it ended he was the only one left. If not for the High Circle taking Lysander in, the grief would have driven him insane.
Milo continued, “We distrust humans and I know there are some who still harbor great bitterness for the lack of help we received in the past war. If we send one of our own, the past may color his or her judgment and prevent the Alliance from being fulfilled.”
Milo looked at each member of the High Circle one by one, demanding all of their attention. “All the races need this Alliance to survive. We know so little of our enemies, but it is clear to us all that something – someone - powerful is leading them, one that’s utterly evil. Our true enemy wears the face of a vampire, but we all know it can’t be.”
Lysander knew Milo was speaking the truth. Vampires were ruled by their thirst for blood, and only something more powerful could prevent them from succumbing to their base and greedy desires. Something more powerful and more evil, and Lysander knew it was the latter that troubled them all.
What kind of creature could be more evil than vampires?
Whatever it was, Lysander understood that the Alliance would indeed be necessary to defeat it. Even so, he was still skeptical of the mortal’s ability to represent them in such an important occasion. “She needs to have someone to guide her about the rules of our world---” He stopped speaking at the smile that Milo gave him.
He always had the deepest respect for Milo although many of the older High Circle members despised the other man for his homosexuality. Lysander didn’t give a fuck about it. Milo had more than proven his worth in the battlefield, his courage unequalled, and that was all that mattered to him.
In a voice that rivaled Lysander’s with its smoothness, which instantly put him on guard, Milo said, “I have already considered that, Lysander, which is why I think you – as the one closest of age to Misty – would get along best with her and together the two of you will make the best pair for representing our race.”
~~~
Misty jerked in her seat with a gasp, causing Daryl, seated next to her, to gasp as well. The sounds echoed throughout the cavernous hallway, where they had been waiting for the High Circle’s summons for over half an hour.
“What is it?” Daryl demanded, jumping to his feet, his eyes darting nervously around. Nowadays, most of the Faeries were jittery as their race’s impending formal alliance with Lyccans and Caros had become public knowledge.
She slowly shook her head, unable to pinpoint exactly what had made her cry out as if someone had stabbed her. One minute she was all right, and then the next moment she wasn’t, as if half of her soul had been torn away.
Domenico. It had to be him. Did it mean he had read her letter? Tears stung her eyes at the thought.
“Misty?”
She lied, “Somebody walked over my grave or something.”
Daryl returned to his seat. “Oh.” A hesitant expression crossed his face as he turned to her. “Maybe…it’s done?”
“What’s done?” She frowned when she saw how Daryl looked like he suddenly wanted to take his words back. “I don’t understand---”
“The cutting of ties, Misty,” Daryl said softly. “Maybe it’s done.”
Her senses started to fade into numbness as the full import of Daryl’s words sunk in.
Just then, the huge twenty-foot doors in front of them finally opened, pushed by a pair of uniformed guards. Magenta, the only member of the High Circle whom Misty knew personally aside from Milo, came out with a kind smile on her wrinkly old face.
“It has been approved,” she told them with a beam.
“Thank the stars,” Daryl exclaimed as he exchanged air kisses with Magenta.
“Thank you for supporting my plea,” Misty said fervently, stepping forward to hug the older woman after. Although Daryl’s partner, Milo, was one of the most powerful Faeries in the realm, he was also one of the youngest and more controversial members of the High Circle. His vote alone would not have swayed the elders to approving the alliance without Magenta’s help.
“It is for the good of our race as well, Misty,” Magenta answered. “However, the High Circle thinks it is best that our race is also co-represented by one of our own. I hope that is fine with you.”
She nodded quickly. “Of course.”
Magenta ushered them inside, saying, “From here on, you will be accompanied by one of our younger members.”
“Milo?” Daryl asked immediately.
The older woman waved one bejeweled hand in negation, the long silk bell-shaped sleeve of her amethyst-colored robes falling to her elbow. Like all members of the High Circle, Magenta was dressed in the traditional attire of Faeries, which - to Misty’s inexperienced eyes - appeared like a fusion of medieval and carnival, because of its Old World style and extremely shiny colors.
“Misty’s partner will be Lysander Allard,” Magenta answered with a pointed look.
She followed the other woman’s gaze, and her jaw immediately dropped at the sight of the boyish-looking…giant standing next to one of the marble pillars in the hall, speaking with another member of the High Circle.
She had heard of him of course. It was impossible not to when all the faeries looked up to him as some sort of living legend. But he was also infamous for his reclusive ways, which was why it was only Misty’s first time to see the man who was said to have killed a hundred vampires when he was still a boy.
He was tall – even taller than Domenico, perhaps by an inch or two. His hair was an interesting shade of black, one that gleamed violet under the light. His skin was pale, his body lean and obviously hard as his form-fitting white formal jacket and breeches proved. The most eye-catching part of his attire was the lace cuffs that peeked past the sleeves of his jacket, something Misty had only seen Tom Cruise wearing when he played the old-fashioned vampire Lestat in Anne Rice’s Interview with the Vampire.
Lysander turned partially towards them, allowing Misty a glimpse of his face just before he bid the other man goodbye with a deep bow.
Dark, perfectly sculpted brows, eyes the palest shade of lilac, cheekbones carved like a marble statue, and thin, equally perfectly shaped lips. That face was too beautiful for words.
“Be blessed,” the older man said before walking away.
She watched Lysander pull a lace fan out of nowhere. Every move he made was an execution of elegance, from the twist of his wrist to the snap of his ornately designed fan as it spread open with a flick of his long, thin fingers.
“He’s gay, r
ight?” Misty blurted out.
Daryl smirked. “Oh, yes.” His answer dripped with sarcasm, but Misty wasn’t to know that, not until much, much later, when it was too late.
Misty’s words floated to Lysander’s ears, but he made not even the slightest indication that he heard the mortal speak. Only when he turned his back to them did Lysander allow a smile half playful and half dangerous to touch his lips. It completely transformed his face, revealing the rogue under the princely guise, the man who fucked so beautifully he made every Faerie woman cry tears of regret the moment he withdrew his cock from between a woman’s thighs.
He closed his eyes, savoring the innocent interest in the human’s eyes. There was nothing so delicious as taking a woman's innocence. Virginity was just one of its many forms. There were so many others, and the woman gazing at him with curious wonder had it in spades. Her aura defined purity itself, and it aroused Lysander like he had never been aroused before.
Misty Wall.
He would have so much fun with her.
~~~
Ten minutes later, and Misty was smiling sheepishly as Lysander Allard clucked his tongue while gazing at her chipped nails.
“I can’t keep them long since I have sword practice daily,” she explained. Her voice sounded a little breathless, and it made Misty cringe. Gay, gay, gay, she reminded herself. With Lysander standing too close to her, his head bent down as he took her other hand and gently touched her nails, it was impossible not to be a little overwhelmed by his looks.
She tried distracting herself with her surroundings. The chamber Magenta had led her and Lysander into was as wondrous and vast as everything was in this realm. The ceiling and walls were of marble, its azure shade making Misty feel she was inside a rich fish’s version of an aquarium.
Misty cleared her throat. “Do you, umm, have any questions about the Alliance?”
“Hmmm…” He nodded, an absent-minded air about him. His gaze suddenly lifted to hers, the unique lilac shade of his eyes making her blink in surprise. There was also a gleam in them that she couldn’t quite understand, causing Misty to feel skittish.
She was nervous. Good. It would make her more likely to tell the truth. Did this human truly understand how important the Alliance was to non-human races? To test her, he murmured, “I would like to know more about certain matters of defense.” Lysander was stunned when she nodded back at him.
“You’re wondering what kind of aid the other races would provide to help defend your realm, right?” Misty started to fidget when it took Lysander a long time to answer.
Lysander slowly dropped Misty’s hand before taking a step back. This time, he took a really good look at her.
Her hair was dark and straight, somewhat old-fashioned with its style and length, reaching almost her waist now. Her gray eyes were made bigger by her long fine lashes, and her heart-shaped face, with its tiny nose and rosy red lips, was wondrously feminine. When he took it all in, with her peasant-styled blouse and skirt, there was just one fairytale character that came to mind:
Snow White.
A naïve princess lured into the forest by the huntsman – and he was that huntsman, but the difference was that he wanted her body and not her heart. He had thought she would be another easy conquest, another woman to seduce from her so-called “love” for another man.
Milo was an honest man, or so Lysander had thought until now. His mouth twisted cynically as he gazed at Misty. A cynical twist to his mouth, he finally realized that Milo had been teaching him a lesson. Milo had known he was one of those who strongly doubted Misty Wall’s abilities, and now he was hearing for himself how much he had greatly underestimated the girl before him.
“I’ve read as much as I can about your race’s history and this realm that you created,” Misty was saying earnestly. “I know I still have much to learn, but even this early I know there are issues that have to be addressed.”
He lifted one brow at her. “Like what?”
“I know the Realm is shielded. No one uninvited can come in, which takes care of vampires. But what if – for some unknown reason – they do manage to come in? What then? How will Faeries defend themselves? And what about the Faeries who do leave the Realm once in a while? Can they protect themselves?”
Misty peeked at Lysander’s expression, fearful that he’d be insulted by her questions. But he looked somewhat astonished instead.
“Those are extremely good points, my pretty,” he conceded.
Her lips formed a spontaneous grin. “You make me sound like Gollum’s precious ring.”
In spite of himself, Lysander chuckled. “And you are the first one who does not appear enamored with the endearment.”
The sound of his dark chuckle sent mental warning bells ringing in her ears again. Was he really gay?
Lysander snapped his lace fan open then, and the sight and sound of it immediately put her at ease.
One look at her expressive face and Lysander knew he had Misty Wall completely fooled. Ah, my pretty, you will be naked and groaning in my bed very, very soon.
Misty tried imagining Domenico Moretti using the same lace fan. Her lips twitched even as the thought pinched her heart. Just thinking of him was bittersweet, and so incredibly dangerous to her sanity that she quickly pushed the thought away.
“If I were to ask you to rate the abilities of my people to fight against our common enemy, how would they fare?”
She couldn’t answer right away, not when the truth wasn’t something they both wanted to hear.
A faint wince went over his frame. “That bad?”
“Milo has intensified their training,” Misty answered with usual optimism. “I’m sure in no time everyone will get better.”
“Have you gotten better?”
Misty answered slowly, “I have to say ‘yes’. But it’s only because my younger brother was one of their victims. I want to be strong enough to defend not just myself but the people I care about if ever we’re in danger.”
So different, he mused silently. Faerie women were raised to be dependent on their men. Could her novelty be enough reason to explain this increasing fascination Lysander felt for her?
Seeing that she was gazing at something else, he let his eyes trail all over her body once more, noting the generous swell of her breasts above the modest neckline of her blouse. Ah, what he would do with those breasts when it was his to play!
A groan escaped him, for his imagination had already gone wild at imagining Misty underneath him.
The groan made Misty turn back at Lysander. “Is something wrong?”
Fuck! Lysander abruptly turned away, doing his best to suppress his cock’s burgeoning erection. Knowing that standing still would only alert Misty more quickly to his current condition, he said lightly, “I think it is best I see for myself how our defenses are doing.”
They walked together to the courtyard, the silence curiously strained between them. Had she done something wrong?
She asked timidly, “Is it that time of the month?”
He lifted a brow, bemused.
Misty cleared her throat. “Umm, you know…PMS, gay version? Daryl has it every month like a girl.”
Lysander prided himself to be a man of sophistication, one whose refinement was beyond his years. But at the words of the human before him, it took every bit of his so-called worldliness not to choke. “Aaah, no. I was merely thinking about something…personal…a problem that I must unfortunately solve on my own.”
“Are you sure I can’t help you with it?”
No, Lysander thought. Not when how I can get you in my bed as soon as fucking possible was the problem. He shook his head. “It’s okay, my pretty. I thank you for the concern.”
Seeing the frown on Lysander’s face and never the type to do nothing when someone appeared troubled, Misty ventured hesitantly, “Do you want to hear a joke?”
Again, he did his best not to choke. Could this truly be the woman the Moretti heir was allegedly so obsesse
d about that he had let her ruin him?
Seeing Misty’s hopeful expression, he said without thinking, “I would be honored to.” It was a lie, though. He despised jokes, considered them the worst form of art.
She brightened. “You won’t regret it. I have really good jokes.” Domenico used to---Misty had a sudden urge to cry. She was trying so very hard to focus on anything but him, but none of it---not even the pressing matters of the Faeries could stop herself from thinking about him.
“The joke?” Lysander asked gently, seeing Misty’s clouded expression and correctly interpreting it.
She cleared her throat. “So there are these two guys, Jim and Jack…” Misty paused, almost hearing Daryl groaning in her mind. In the time they had spent together, he had become exasperated with her endless supply of Jim-and-Jack jokes, but every time she had a new one, he would always want to be the first to hear it.
