Aislin of Arianrhod (Land of Alainnshire)

by S. L. Jesberger

  As they walked, Aislin saw several targets, standing on tripods off to the side of the garden. “Are you an archer?”

  “I am. How about you?”

  “No. Unfortunately, my father never taught me archery, or any other defensive skill for that matter. My brother was a first-rate archer. He could turn around on a horse, and shoot without taking aim.” The memory of Fionn on a horse made Aislin smile. “It’s something I should have learned, but didn’t. It might have come in handy.”

  “Would you like to learn?”

  “I...I don’t know.”

  “I could teach you. I teach all the young Sylvan to shoot the bow.”

  “As you wish.” Aislin privately questioned the wisdom of teaching a prisoner to defend herself, but said nothing. He was being disarmingly kind, and she was enjoying it.

  They finished the tour and sat down on the edge of a rock near the waterfall. Aislin inhaled deeply. “I must admit I didn’t take you for a botanist.”

  “My mother loved trees and flowers. She started this garden, and I grew to love it too.”

  “Where did you get some of these plants? They aren’t native to Blackthorne, are they?”

  “No. We brought many of them with us from Elinbourne when Colven, my father and I moved the Sylvan here.”

  “You came here from Elinbourne? That’s quite a journey! What made you bring your people here?”

  She thought it was a perfectly innocent question, but it triggered a volatile reaction from him. He snorted...snorted...at her, his nostrils wide, his lips tight. Something moved in his eyes, and it made the hair on the back of her neck prickle. He was suddenly tense with barely controlled violence. Aislin held her breath, wishing she had kept her mouth shut.

  “It’s none of your business. I don’t wish to speak of it; certainly I don’t wish to tell a human,” he said curtly.

  Somehow, she’d hit a nerve. Something awful had happened to the Sylvan at the hands of humans, and it was still very raw for him.

  “I’m sorry. You have obviously had an unpleasant experience in the past with humans. I didn’t mean to bring it up and cause you further pain,” Aislin said, hoping an apology would defuse the tension.

  He lunged at her with the same vicious black look on his face that she’d seen when he mentioned his sister.

  Before he could grab her, Aislin jumped up and stumbled back away from him. Tristan’s face was twisted, his eyes luminescent with a crazed anger she didn’t understand. Terrified, she spun and ran for the stairs, but she slipped in her haste and went down to her knees. She was quickly up on her feet, but it was too late.

  Tristan caught her roughly by the shoulders and dragged her up close, his hands a painful vise around her upper arms as he glared down at her.

  “Unpleasant? Is that what you think it was? Unpleasant?” He was forcing every word through gritted teeth. “It was not unpleasant—it was horrible! To see so many die...the Sylvan are practically extinct because of humans! I watched that bitch drain the life right out of her, and I didn’t get there in time!” He shook Aislin hard and screamed at her. “Do you hear me? I didn’t get there in time! I couldn’t get there in time!”

  Aislin went completely still, her face inches from his. His eyes bored into hers, but he didn’t seem to be looking at her. Whatever had happened to him, he seemed to be back in that place and time, reliving it all again.

  Slowly, Tristan came back to the present, staring down at her as if she were an insect he wanted to crush. “Humans. You’re all an abomination to this land. You deserve to die, and I should have killed you the night I caught you,” he said in a low growl. He shoved her backward away from him and headed toward the steps that led up to his apartment.

  “Why do you do that?” Aislin called after him.

  Tristan turned back toward her. “Why do I do what?”

  She walked briskly up to him, her arms crossed as she stepped in front of him. “Why do you assume all humans are the same as the ones who hurt you?”

  His eyes widened; his mouth dropped open. She got the feeling that no one ever challenged the volatile and obstinate Sylvan chieftain about anything.

  He’ll either listen to me, or he’ll kill me, but I can’t stop now.

  “I ask to be judged on the things I have done, not the evil done by others. I don’t know what humans have done to you, but I hope by now you can see that I’m not like that,” she said.

  He opened and closed his mouth several times before he answered her. “You don’t understand...”

  “Then help me to understand. Tell me what happened to you!” she pleaded.

  He turned away and said nothing.

  “More than half of the people in the village of Arianrhod died almost eleven years ago. I held my own brother in my arms as he died from the sickness. Granted, that’s not the same thing as having intentional evil done to you, but that helpless feeling of knowing things are beyond your control, that you can’t fix it, that you can only hold on as tight as you can until it’s over...well, I’ll bet that feels the same.”

  He stood silently with his back to her for several minutes. She held her breath as the tension in his body gradually eased. Turning around to face her, Tristan took her hand in his, and asked, “Can we start over?”

  “I think that’s a good idea. I’m not your enemy, Tristan.”

  He reached out and softly touched the marks that were beginning to show on her arms. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Why don’t you give me my first archery lesson?” she suggested, hoping for a smooth change of subject.

  He lifted his eyes up to hers, and she felt her heart slam into her ribs yet again. She was totally unprepared for the flood of feelings that rushed over her as she looked into his face.

  By the gods, when was the last time I felt like this? I can’t...it’s not... Her mind stuttered as it tried to steer back to rational thought. The brick wall she’d built around her heart had served her well over the years. She now had a disturbing premonition that it was in serious danger.

  “I’ll be right back!” Tristan sat her down and ran up the marble steps to his apartment.

  When he returned several minutes later, he carried with him two bows and a quiver full of arrows. He’d also changed his clothes, and his khaki brown body was completely bare except for a soft suede loincloth.

  Aislin stood as he approached and began to back away. “What...are you doing?”

  “Is something wrong?”

  “You...changed...your clothes.” She tried not to look at him, but her eyes were drawn to certain...things. She didn’t fail to note that he was extremely fit, his stomach rippled and lean. The loincloth revealed the muscular curve of his buttocks, and those muscles transitioned in a very sensuous way to long, powerfully built legs. He’d been undeniably beautiful before, but now he exuded an animal magnetism that scared her to death.

  He looked down at himself and then back at her, puzzled. “This is what Sylvan men wear to shoot the bow. Is this a problem?” He seemed genuinely confused by her state of agitation.

  “No. No, it’s fine.” She was sorry she’d brought it up. She wanted to go back to her cell, but it was too late to back out now. He seemed eager to show her his skills.

  He pulled the targets out into the center of the clearing and arranged them side by side. Aislin hung back. What’s wrong with you? He’s the same man he was an hour ago.

  But that wasn’t true at all. In the short span of time she’d been in the garden with him, she’d felt something stirring within her. It felt strange and dangerous, thrilling and forbidden. She wanted to push it as far as it would go and call it to an abrupt halt all at the same time.

  “Come!” he said, motioning for her to join him.

  Aislin went to him reluctantly, eyes dow
n. If he sensed her discomfort, he didn’t let on. He simply handed her a bow and an arrow.

  After a few attempts, and despite Tristan’s best efforts, it became clear she wasn’t going to be very adept as an archer. She didn’t seem to be able to pull the bowstring back far enough to launch the arrow into the target. Instead, it made a pitiful arc and fell to the ground.

  “It’s hopeless,” she laughed, after she’d almost put an arrow into her foot. “I guess my father knew best after all.”

  “I can’t imagine why your father wouldn’t teach you some type of defense,” Tristan mused. “Sylvan women may not use the bow, but they are all fairly skilled with the pike.”

  “What’s a... pike?”

  He pulled a long leather satchel down from a nearby tree, and withdrew what looked like a perfectly straight walking staff. It was as long as Tristan was tall, blunt on one end, but sharpened to a deadly point on the other.

  “What do you do with that?” Aislin asked.

  He lunged forward with his right foot, and began to spin the pike so fast it was a whistling blur, using one hand and then the other, demonstrating thrust and parry. He finished by sticking the pike into one of the targets.

  Aislin was impressed. “Do you think you could teach me that instead?”

  “Get one out of the satchel, and I’ll show you a few moves.”

  They started with basic defensive moves. Tristan showed her how to anticipate an enemy’s movements beforehand so she could react with the pike. He stood behind her, his body barely touching hers, his arms around her as he showed her how to grip the pike, left hand over, right hand under, and swing it to deflect a blow.

  The heat of Tristan’s body swept her concentration away. She could smell his unique scent: leather, smoke, and something exotic and heady that she couldn’t name. Her mind raced as she wondered what it would be like for him to kiss her, to have those strong hands keeping her up all night.

  His hand curled over hers on the pike. Aislin stared dumbly at his fingers, long and slender. Gentle fingers that she knew were capable of...

  Stop it!

  She blinked and shook her head to clear it. She could hear him talking to her over her left shoulder, his breath in her ear, but she couldn’t understand a single word he was saying. There was no point in continuing with this lesson if he was going to send her brain tumbling end over end after itself.

  He must have sensed her inattention, because he shook her a little. Exhaling sharply, Aislin pulled her eyes away from his fingers and focused on the stairs leading up and out of the garden. She wanted to be on them, away from the strange heat that was rendering her senseless.

  “Listen to me!” Tristan demanded, shaking her again. And then he molded the front of him to the back of her, and instinct took over.

  The breath left her body in a noisy rush. She pushed back against him, her spine curved in a provocative request, even as her mind screamed: What do you think you’re doing?

  Heat passed between them, and she was aware of an exquisite ache as his hardness pressed into her. He gave his own breathless gasp as he dropped his hand from the pike and gripped her hip. For one breathtaking, dangerous moment, he pushed his fullness against her. It was a sensuous question, a question she wanted desperately to answer as she felt a slick rush between her legs. Her knees wobbled under her as she fought desperately for a coherent thought.

  Aislin had always prided herself on her tightly maintained composure. Her self-control now stood mocking her, laughing at her helpless reaction to this...elf. Damn him, he was more male than anyone she’d ever been near. If he turned her around and started kissing her, could she stop him? Would she stop him?

  No. And no.

  Aislin took a gulping breath and spun out of his arms. She met his stare and tried to catch her runaway heart. It was important to show him that he hadn’t shaken her, but for the life of her, she didn’t know why.

  Her eyes tangled up in his. If she were struggling for control, he was fighting the same battle. She could see the veins in Tristan’s neck hammering a beat as his startled gaze searched her face.

  An awkward look hung in the air between them; the span of several desperate heartbeats passed by.

  Tristan picked up his pike and swung it at her, scattering the tension. He caught her completely off guard, hitting her on the arm.

  “Stop!” she laughed. She swung back at him, but he easily countered her.

  Aislin took a few gentle blows from him at first, but she quickly caught on and began to fight back. She realized by watching him closely, she could anticipate what he was going to do next. It was exhilarating to be able to counter every strike from him by blocking it.

  After awhile, Tristan stopped and, breathing heavily, leaned on his pike. “You are by far the best student I’ve ever had the first time out. We’ll continue these lessons at another time, but for now, I’m worn out!”

  Aislin grinned. “I was hoping you‘d say that!” Teasingly, she said, “Aren’t you afraid I’ll stick you with this and run?”

  The smile left his face. “Would you do that to me?”

  “Would you give me a reason?”

  “I don’t think you would kill me even if I gave you a reason.”

  How dare he make assumptions about me? “You think because you’ve seen some of my memories, you know me well. I assure you, you haven’t even scratched the surface,” she said hotly.

  “All in good time, Princess. All in good time.” The hot look in Tristan’s eyes unnerved her. She tore her gaze away reluctantly.

  “I’d like to see Roderic.”

  Tristan looked startled for a moment. “That’s not possible.”

  “Why?” Aislin started to panic. “What have you done to him?”

  “I’ve done nothing to him. You simply can’t see him.”

  “I don’t understand. If you’ve done nothing to him, why can’t I see him? I don’t even have to go into his cell. I just need to see that he’s not been harmed. And he’s probably worried sick about me.”

  “No. Don’t ask again.” Tristan turned away from her and began to gather up the arrows.

  Aislin was stunned at his refusal. Something didn’t feel right. She moved around to face him.

  “What are you up to?” she demanded as she searched his face.

  “Aislin, don’t anger me. I’ve told you that you can’t see him, and that’s my final word. Any further questioning from you and I’ll chain you in your cell with nothing to eat tomorrow. Don’t push me any further.” Tristan’s tone was brusque. She knew he would do it.

  He spun on his heels and walked away from her.

  What’s going on? There didn’t seem to be a way to make him tell her.

  She clenched her hands in tight fists at her side. Hearing the word ‘no’ and being completely shut out was a new experience for her. She could sense that being demanding would only cause her more problems.

  Drawing a deep breath, Aislin said, “I’m sorry. I just worry about him. He’s had some tough times. He means a lot to me and my family.”

  “I told you he’s fine. That’s all I’m going to say about it.”

  She had no choice but to accept him at his word. Sick with worry and feeling deceived, she began to help Tristan gather the arrows from the clearing.

  They finished gathering arrows in silence and climbed the marble steps to his apartment. She waited by the door until he finished putting his things away, and then he returned her to her cell.

  “You’re a natural at the pike. I swear I’ve never seen anyone catch on that quickly. I’d like to come and get you tomorrow.”

  Still troubled, more confused than she’d ever been in her life, she considered refusing him. She just wanted to stay in her cell where it was safe. But his private ga
rden was beautiful, the physical activity felt good, and she had genuinely enjoyed her first lesson with the pike.

  “If it pleases you. I did enjoy the day,” she said demurely.

  “It pleases me very much. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He bowed slightly as he closed and locked the door behind him.

  Aislin slept fitfully that night. She kept dreaming Jariath was stripping her naked, only to have him turn into Tristan. After the third such nightmare, she decided she would just stay awake and wait for morning.

  Lying awake led to thinking, and that was just as disturbing. Her stomach in knots, she tried to rationalize her body’s explosive reaction to Tristan. But there was nothing rational about it. She wanted him. Wanted him in a way she’d never wanted anyone. She’d been ready to let him take her right there on the ground amid pikes and arrows and targets.

  You are losing your mind. Aislin rolled onto her side, closed her legs tightly, and tried to corral the explicit sensual thoughts blooming in her mind.

  Think of Jariath, think of Bryce, think of Maeve. Focus. Focus on your purpose, Aislin. You have to get to Wyndham. You have people counting on you.

  It took tremendous effort, but she finally managed to subdue the searing heat he had stoked in her. She took a shaky breath as cold, logical thought returned.

  There was a time when she would have moved mountains for the opportunity to get to know Tristan, elf or not. But she’d resolved never to let anyone get close to her after she was made regent. She was never sure whether it was her or Arianrhod that was attractive to a potential suitor, and so she’d swiftly closed that door to avoid the issue. In a way, it was a good thing that Jariath had warned everyone to stay away from her. It certainly made things easier.

  The physical aspect of relationships troubled her the most. Resolving to stay single for the good of the kingdom had done nothing to squelch the hunger she felt to touch and be touched, to share herself with a lover. At times, it had been unbearable for her. She’d taken great pains to wall off that part of her psyche, and somehow, Tristan had put a very large crack in that wall.