Aisalan was charming and ruthlessly honest. In a world filled with doublespeak and the patently unspoken, he never shied away from her assessments or asked her to temper them for him. He’d only requested her openness in return and didn’t hold it against her when she couldn’t follow through.
Now she had no idea where he was or whether he was even still alive; her last vision of him nearly crumpling to the ground as bodies rushed around him was burned into her mind. The thought instantly caused her eyes to water, and she exhaled a shaky breath.
“It’s best not to dwell on it.” she said softly, “Without the letter, we don’t have a shop, and without a name...”
Kyra’s smile fell, and a look of pity entered her eyes as quickly as the mirth departed. Like Lyrei, she would know better than to try to offer anything more.
Miri
Days turned into weeks, and there was still no sign of him. A servant was sent to The Magistra to deliver a new letter of introduction, of which Miri had no idea until Duriah appeared in the back to press the rolled document into her hands.
“It seems you have gotten what you wanted.” He said a bit too knowingly for Miri’s taste before he disappeared back to the front of the shop.
She simply held it for a few moments at first, her mind swiftly processing what that single piece of paper meant. Freedom. Independence. With their saved gold they would be able to purchase shop space in the Convent within a few days at most, and none too quickly as the drums of war had been struck almost immediately after the disastrous conclusion of the Otravian negotiations.
In the mean while, Miri attempted to kick Aisalan out of her mind. They had only met for a few days, and she understood their arrangement from the beginning. He had distinctly chosen her for the task to avoid any unnecessary attachments, and here she was silently seething and stewing over a matter that had long been closed.
She thought on this as Kyra’s hand flexed in the crook of her elbow. They passed through the gate and were surprised when the guards waved them through as opposed to asking a barrage of questions or demanding entry into Kyra’s satchel.
The city was awash in the sounds of mass production and upheaval. The clang of mallets against metal as blacksmiths worked overtime to create fresh weapons for the field. The faint scent of Tingril, an alchemical agent, used for making leather, hung in the air, and guard stood ready at many of the intersections.
Miri was nervous. This was their second appointment with the High Administrator, and while they came bearing the letter he requested of them, the war against the Otravians was at the forefront of everyone’s mind.
Information trickled down from Kyra to Miri, and what little she did know did not bode well for them. The Tribunal Hall loomed as intimidating as ever, its marble facade gleaming as they crossed the courtyard with its ever-present blooms.
In the back of her mind, there was a vague hope that Aisalan would open the door. That she would get to see him again after so much time apart, but they were escorted to the High Administrator by an unnamed page who quickly scuttled away as soon as they were announced.
Miri took a deep breath and nearly stumbled into Kyra, who stopped short. Miri followed her gaze to see, not the wizened Aelv who greeted them before all formality and condescending praise, but a younger Aelv who seemed to be embarrassed as he searched through parchments stacked haphazardly on his desk.
“My apologies.” His words spilled out in a frustrated huff that he quickly tamped down when he found the roll of parchment he was looking for.
Kyra was the first to speak, “I’m sorry. Are you serving as proxy for the High Administrator? Our petition was reviewed already.”
The Aelv smiled and waved his hand toward the seats opposite his desk, “Please. Sit.” he chuckled, “You are both making me nervous.”
Miri exchanged a confused glace with Kyra as they took the offered seats, backs ramrod straight in the face of a new adversary. He wasn’t the older male who shattered their dreams during their last visit. He was frazzled but far more receptive and he gently took their parchments from them before continuing. “I apologize for any confusion my presence has caused. The council felt it was time to bring in a fresh pair of eyes. Unfortunately, there was not much time to make an announcement. I am High Administrator Jhaeros Valcan of Myrenden.”
Miri looked to Kyra who shrugged, equally confused, in response.
He flipped through their parchments and frowned when he unfurled the letter of introduction.
“This was superfluous.” He said, his voice laced with irritation. “Your original documents are sound.” He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “The backlog...” He trailed off, his eyes momentarily glazing over.
Miri did not know what to make of his statement, but wondered just how many other humans had been similarly curtailed by the prior High Administrator’s mismanagement of their bloated bureaucracy.
Jhaeros jerked, as though remembering he had an audience, and snapped out of his daze. “A courier will deliver your permit to you by tomorrow morning.”
The sound left the room and Miri’s mind worked to catch up with his words, “We’re approved?”
She felt Kyra’s hand clutch her arm and her heartbeat hammer through her chest.
The High Administrator regarded them for a few moments and rose, beckoning the young women to follow him to the door. Miri didn’t even feel like she was walking. She was floating on a delirious high that she wouldn’t allow herself to verbally express until they were on the Convent streets.
“The Myrenden stronghold needs capable, intelligent, business owners during these trying times.” He finally said once Miri and Kyra were on the other side of the door, “My apologies for my predecessor leading you to believe otherwise. I am afraid I have little time to offer more congratulations.”
Miri nodded, still reeling from the euphoria of success as their feet carried them out of the Tribunal Hall and into their future.
She was so caught up in the rush of excitement, it took her a few moments to notice Kyra’s morose demeanor, a sudden clash against her own good mood. Her smile was weak when she met Miri’s gaze.
“What’s wrong?” Miri asked, “We did it!”
Kyra didn’t respond at first, her hand moving up and down her arm before she released a deep breath. “You did all of that for nothing. You were placed in that position for no reason at all.” Her voice lowered, “It doesn’t seem like something to celebrate.”
Miri slowed. Her words were true. The arrangement, the anxiety and fear that came along with it, was completely preventable and all came down to the whims and prejudices of one old Aelv with too much power. The new High Administrator’s seeming interest in fairness toward the casteless humans of Myrenden did not erase her experience or that of any many others.
Aisalan’s face flashed in her mind and her chest tightened. Were it not for that Aelv, however, she would not have had gotten to meet him. Aisalan was not a regular magic user. The chances of them meeting any other way were close to nil. Miri did not believe in fate, certainly not one that could be so cruel, but she struggled to decide if meeting him was worth all of it in the end.
“There are far crueler fortunes.” She said, though the words rang hollow. It would have been better had her arrangement with Aisalan never happened at all, but her sadness came from a different source than righteous indignation.
When they arrived back at The Magistra and gave Duriah their good news, Miri realized she would miss the old Aelv. He didn’t pay them well but he showed them kindness during their employment and allowed her to learn as his own library grew.
“I suppose I knew this day would come sooner or later.” He said, resting his weight against a broom. “Far too smart and ambitious for your own good. I should have hired morons.”
Kyra laughed and walked over to pull the older male into a hug. “You’re free to order stock from us you know.”
“You will be one of my competitors.” Duriah grou
sed and his eyes drifted over to Miri. “And a damned nuisance of one too.”
They would be.
Chapter Eighteen
Miri
“You can tell him I’m not interested.” Two months. Two months since she’d last seen or heard from Aisalan Vinhar and despite how happy she was to see Lyrei, Miri thought she had done a pretty good job of finally getting over him. That was until the Aelven female stepped into their shop. “Our bargain is done.”
Lyrei flinched but nodded, stowing her purchase in the leather pouch affixed to her waist. Her hand lingered in the pouch for a brief moment before she withdrew it again, this time containing a small piece of rolled parchment tied with a simple black ribbon. “If you will not see him, will you at least consider his words?” She said softly, “I am not at liberty to speak freely, but he’s quite good at speaking for himself.”
Was he that good at doing so she would have heard from him long before now, but Miri sighed and took the document, quickly stuffing it in the front pocket of her apron. What happened between her and Aisalan had nothing to do with Lyrei, and she stepped around the counter to hug her. “I’m glad you made it out safely.”
Lyrei nodded and dropped her voice to a whisper, “Lord Kolan had the servants leave the palace right after dinner ended. I did not get a chance to say goodbye.”
It seemed there were many missed goodbyes that night. For a moment, Miri was transported back to the last evening she was in Aisalan’s company. The sounds of wood cracking, the scent of magic and smoke, and the sight of him falling to his knees. No. It was best to move forward. Always forward with her goals in mind. The Philtre and Crown wasn’t doing as much business as The Magistra yet, but with her signature alchemical concoctions and Kyra’s immense skill as an enchanter, they were sure to catch up soon.
Miri had already developed a healing salve that was quickly snatched up by the Iron Hand, courtesy of a good word from Duriah.
She was on her way, and she didn’t need anything taking her attention away from that.
“Have you figured out what you want to do yet?” She asked, resting her hip against the counter.
Lyrei straightened and smiled, “I have. I am joining the Rangers.”
Now, that was a surprise. Of all the things Miri imagined the well-mannered, gentle, Aelv doing, becoming an archer wasn’t anywhere close to the top of that list.
“I will be leaving for training shortly, which is why I needed some of your potions. I know I will not be able to keep up the first few days.”
Miri smiled and popped back behind the counter. She unlocked a special cabinet, where her latest creations sat curing, and pulled out a small vial filled with a blue liquid that pulsed with inner light. “I call it Farshot,” she said, stepping back around to place the bottle in Lyrei’s hand. “It should increase your accuracy. I haven’t made it available to the public yet, but it’s safe.”
“I will write a detailed report.” Lyrei replied, though her next words came with hesitation. “We should share a meal before I leave.”
Miri smiled. “We should, and we will. Just tell me when you’re available.”
Lyrei nodded but remained rooted to the spot. There were words left unsaid, and Miri realized, this time, she wasn’t going to let them lie in peace.
“I’ll read the letter.”
Lyrei’s relieved smile was all she needed to see. Aisalan would likely be interrogating her the moment she returned home, anxious to know whether his pleas had any effect.
The day wound down slowly after Lyrei’s departure, the parchment acting as a brand that seared through the layers of her apron and dress. No matter what she did, her mind wandered back to it until finally, with Kyra taking care of the last customers of the day, she slipped into the back room and pulled it out.
Far from the official splendor of their letter of introduction, this was more personal. The black ribbon slid away from the paper, and Miri had to pause and collect herself as Aisalan’s penmanship came into view.
Dhaoiri,
I know you must be angry with me. I would not be surprised if you burned this letter without reading it, but you are far more merciful than I deserve, so I hope your eyes see these words. These days without your voice have been tormenting, yet nothing could be done. There is much that remains to be said between us. If you can forgive a foolish male, my doors are open from this day to all of the rest.
Aisalan
That he had enough forethought to include his house number beneath his signature did not escape her notice, but Miri scowled. Could nothing be done? That’s the best he could come up with? She threw the parchment down in a huff but quickly picked it up again.
“There’s nothing wrong with loving him, you know.” Kyra’s soft voice said from behind her.
“I don’t.”
“Maybe you don’t.” Kyra shrugged, “But you want to go to him.”
She did. Even if it was to get into an argument. To see him and know he was safe and unharmed was something she had secretly hoped for since that fateful night.
Miri chewed on her cheek before squaring her shoulders, “I’m going, but only out of morbid curiosity.”
“Of course.” Kyra said, not hiding her smile well at all, “Curiosity. I’ll clean up.”
She would attempt to convince herself of that as she weaved down the cobblestone street that took her into the sub-district where Aisalan lived. Her shoulders tensed when she passed a group of guards on standby. Fully expecting them to accost her, she felt relief when they only nodded in greeting.
Her breath hitched as she neared his home, tucked away on a shorter street that ended at his doorstep. It was imposing but due to its occupant and not the elegant entrance she yearned to run to and from at the same time. Her heart leaped with each step she took until she finally stood at his door.
Her first knock was far too timid. A cheap way of saying she tried and failed, but her hand flew up again, forming a fist to pound at the door’s dark wood. There were a few moments of silence, enough time for a sense of shame to wash over her. What was she doing here?
When the door opened, it was as though a dam burst.
“Miri.”
She barely had time to think before she was pulled into his home, and even less before Aisalan pressed her against the door, his lips descending onto hers in a crushing wave of longing and regret. A rush of ecstasy flushed through her. She had missed him as well.
Her fingers flew to his abdomen, desperate to feel the taut planes of his body beneath them again and he hissed. Miri stopped.
“What’s wrong?” She placed her hand in the same area and felt the telltale sign of bandages under his shirt’s fabric, the rough ridges evident against her fingertips.
“Aethershot,” Aisalan replied. “A variety we have not seen before. Far more poisonous to Aelven bodies.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Miri asked, finding her bearings again. “Why didn’t you let me know what happened to you? I could have helped!” She imagined she sounded hysterical, but judging by how much of him was probably covered in healing salves, she had every right to be angry.
A wicked boyish smile came to his lips and Aisalan pulled her against him, ignoring his wound. “Were you worried, dhaoiri?”
“No.” Miri snapped, placing her hands on his chest to push him away, “You don’t get to send me a vague love letter and think everything is fine.” She crossed her arms and stepped around them to create more space. When he was close to her is when he was dangerous. That was when she lost all rational thought and Aisalan Vinhar owed too many explanations for her to lose her wits so easily.
He sighed and ran his hand through his hair, the silver curtain completely freed from its usual clasp. “At first we we were not sure I was going to survive. I have only been out of bed for a few days.”
“We are at war and...I wanted you to be free of this. This is but one aspect of court life, Miri.” He approached and ran hesitant fingers down one of her bra
ids, “I panicked but I cannot be separated from you again.”
Miri remained still, her eyes searching his to determine whether he was speaking the truth. Hints of pain still lingered in his eyes, though whether from the aethershot wound or their separation she wasn’t sure.
He leaned forward and she tipped her face towards his, offering him her lips to kiss. A rumble rolled through his chest and his arms came around her, pulling her into his form and engulfing her in his embrace. His scent, the scent she convinced herself she did not miss in the early morning hours, washed over her and her toes curled in her boots.
They drank from each other’s lips, and she barely registered him bending to scoop her up. Miri laughed as she wound her hands around his neck. Her anger fled out of her, replaced by that familiar anticipation as he walked them to his bedchambers.
“Stay with me tonight.” He whispered against her lips.
“For tonight.”
Aisalan groaned and kissed the exposed skin of her neck before rising and pulling her up to unfasten the hooks of her dress, and she allowed him to do so, the intimacy of the action as tantalizing as what was sure to follow.
She never thought she would see him again, let alone get to feel his languid movements as he thrust into her, the way he moaned her name into her ear as if in ecstatic worhip, or the feel of his hands guiding her hips when she rode him.
Their bodies became a tangled mass of flesh and desire until the last embers in the fireplace died down, and sweat cooled on their skin.
“And tomorrow.” He kissed her lips.
“And the night after.” He kissed her again and folded her body into his. “And the night after that.”
“At some point, I have to go home Aisalan,” Miri said, her voice thick with fatigue. She released an annoyed huff when his body, once again, covered hers. The familiar stretch returned, this time slow and torturous, his body still attempting to recover while simultaneously making up for lost time.
An Ignoble Invitation- the Aelven Dominion Page 17
