Touched (BETA)
A family of royals aims for perfection and tradition, but a series of whirlwind romances could send the veneer of perfection and desire for tradition up in flames.
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A heart-fluttering “romantasy” following the relationships of three couples. You will find slow-burn, fast-burn, LGBT representation, secret relationships, family dynamics, and journeys of self-acceptance.
Touched:
BLACK Edition
SPICY | OPEN DOOR
I'd love your feedback! Specifically, I'm interested to know about overall content/pacing (Does this feel good as a novella, or should it be expanded into a book? Does it feel rushed, or is the pacing appropriate?) and respectfulness/comfortability of erotic scenes.
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Touched will be available in two unique editions: BLACK and PINK. The PINK edition will be the "clean, closed door" edition. For now, I'm seeking input on the BLACK edition.
CH 0: EXPECTATION OF PERFECTION
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The celebration was in full effect, but as usual, Erryn found himself standing to the side of the reception. This was all for him, for his thirtieth nameday, but as he looked out over the ballroom, a sense of unease took hold in his chest. These people—eating, mingling, dancing merrily—would one day look to him as King. It was a long way off for now, but his father, King Merit Ephtas, had already begun asking Erryn if any of the maidens caught his eye. Becoming a king was a long and arduous process, and it would begin with an exhausting search for someone suitable to court.
If at all possible, Erryn was supposed to find someone Touched. Someone like himself, with ancient blood, who would be able to look over the kingdom by his side in the next century. When in good health, the Touched lived to be about 200 years old. They were kept in high regard, holding thrones and stately manors throughout the continent, but they were somewhat rare. Procreation proved difficult, and tradition mandated that under each monarch there could be only three claims to the throne, so families remained quite small.
King Merit had married a woman of common blood, and Prince Erryn was born amidst much celebration. It took an additional 22 years to conceive Prince Drake, and Queen Phedra did not survive the delivery.
Erryn’s eyes found his brother as he danced clumsily with a gaggle of girls his age. Drake was eight now—still a child, still aging at the same rate as his peers. His hair was dark, his eyes a charming hazel. He had been dressed in fine wool for the occasion, but so had the other children in attendance, so Prince Drake would have blended in if not for the perceptible point at the tip of his ears. Erryn watched as Drake spun one of the girls around, completely out of time with the music. When Erryn had been eight, his father had demanded perfection on the ballroom floor, and in every other formal presentation as well. He wondered if the king had lower expectations for Drake as he would likely never see the throne.
Had Erryn been so popular as a child? He didn’t think so. Of course, he had been loved by the queen, and cherished by the public, but he hadn’t been surrounded by admirers the way Drake was. Drake was already so confident, so exuberant, and others were drawn to him like moths to a flame. He was so free—from worry, from the expectation of perfection—and it shone.
A chalice of wine was held out in front of Erryn. “My prince.” It was the estate manager, a man named Curtis. He’d been the king’s right hand since before Erryn was born, and Erryn could remember when Curtis was younger and had perfect posture. Since then, his shoulders had begun to move forward, and his ginger beard had rapidly begun to gray. “Happy thirtieth.”
“Thank you, Curtis,” Erryn replied, offering him a smile and taking the chalice; it was the crystal set, reserved for special occasions. “How are things? I’ve hardly seen you this past week.”
Curtis gave Erryn a look as if contemplating whether or not Erryn was ready to hear what he had to say. With a quick upturn of his lips, he decided that there was no reason not to include him in the latest news—he was 30 now, afterall. A grown man ready for the century ahead. “There are signs of dragons,” he said simply. He was measuring the prince’s reaction.
Erryn’s heart skipped a beat. “Here or elsewhere?” he asked quietly. He glanced around the ballroom again, for fear that someone might have heard Curtis’ words, but the people in attendance were completely unaware. Again, Erryn felt a sense of separation from them. Blissfully unaware.
“Here,” Curtis assured him, and Erryn exhaled gratefully. Dragons were exceptionally rare. They were fiercely intelligent, wickedly powerful, and troth to the Touched by an ancient pact. They were also the single greatest cause of war. The threat dragons posed was too great; if ever a kingdom should hear of dragons in a neighboring realm, hunters and assassins would be sent until the threat was terminated. Still, the promise of dragons within one's own land was often a trouble worth having.
It was stirring news, but Erryn would have to ruminate at a later time; Curtis had brought a hand to Erryn’s elbow, collecting his attention. He nodded now toward the ballroom entrance, where King Merit was entering, accompanied by a noblewoman from Umbris. She was pretty, dressed ostentatiously, and she may have been around Erryn’s age—it was impossible to tell, because from the point of her ears it was clear that she was Touched.
“He wastes no time,” Curtis snickered. He was sure that the king would begin the matchmaking process tonight. He looked at Erryn, expecting a similar expression of amusement, or even irritation, but he was surprised to see just how flustered Erryn had become. “You needn’t force yourself,” Curtis said kindly. “A queen will not make you a king; you on your own are more than enough.”
Erryn inhaled and exhaled, trying to regain his composure. “I believe I need some air,” he said suddenly. He stepped quickly away from the entrance, away from the king, who had begun to scan the crowd for his eldest son. Erryn skirted along the wall, avoiding the dancers, the minglers, and everyone raising their glasses toward him as he passed. He exited the far side of the ballroom, through the large glass doors which had been opened onto the west lawn. He walked into the garden, to the tiered fountain which stood steadily bubbling and streaming down into itself. A stone bench circled the fountain, and he took a seat on the far side, hiding himself from view.
Sometimes Erryn needed moments like this. To sit and to breathe and to hear himself think. He glanced down at the crystal chalice in his hand. It held an Ephtas vintage, produced in the year of Erryn’s birth; it was a tradition with the birth of each royal. It was a rich, complex red, and it had aged alongside Erryn and would continue to do so in the years to come. This, his thirtieth nameday, was the first occasion to bring it up from the cellars. It would also grace his wedding, his crowning, and his retirement or his funeral, whichever came first.
Erryn stared at the reflection in the wine. Dark hair and hazel eyes, like Prince Drake, and King Merit, and King Wesley before him. He looked like a King of Ephtas, like the namesake he was, but despite his lifelong aim for perfection, he had never felt further from perfect.
CH 1: 33 YEARS LATER
Erryn had been in a somber mood that morning. Curtis had run into him in the hall, looking hurried. “My prince,” he had greeted rather furtively, barely slowing his stride toward the king's quarters.
Erryn asked him what was the matter. The assurance that nothing was amiss could not quite make its way from Curtis’ lips. Instead, he pressed them together in a tight line, stopping to face Erryn with a measured look. “Your father neglected to inform me that we are expecting a guest to arrive today, that is all.” Curtis ran a quick hand down his grizzled beard. “Obviously, I will need to inspect all of the preparations.” He gave an apologetic smile. “I'm afraid I won't be able to join you on the hunt today.” With that, Curtis had swiftly continued on, a full day of managing ahead of him.
It wasn’t Curtis’ absence from the hunt that upset Erryn; Curtis was a welcome companion on the hunt, but he was nearly 80, which meant a slow ride suitable more for conversation than proper hunting. What troubled Erryn was what Curtis had said. It was unlike Merit not to include Curtis in anything, but particularly in matters concerning the estate. And Curtis had certainly seemed preoccupied—was it because of this oversight? Or was there something more that he hadn’t said?
As it was, Erryn walked the estate grounds alone, up the sunny path toward the stables. As he approached, he saw no horses out in the paddock. In the stables, he presumed. Being fed or groomed. The stables, like the estate itself, were large and stately, yet surprisingly modest for a royal family. The land of Ephtas had no castles. Instead, the family kept a large, private swathe of land with a beautiful manor, but otherwise invested much of their wealth back into the surrounding towns of Ephtas.
“Being Touched is a privilege,” Queen Phedra used to tell Erryn, “but it does not guarantee the loyalty or trust of the common blood. Follow in the path of your father, and not those families who reign in complacency. The ancient blood held many gifts, lending power over nature and animals alike, but centuries have come and gone, and that power has waned. Now, you must strive to earn their veneration at all times; take nothing for granted.”
It was why Prince Erryn had always strived for excellence, and why King Merit demanded it of him: because the people deserved it. Despite the pressures of service, it was also one of Erryn’s joys. He had a gift for remembering names and faces, and the people of Ephtas found him to be personable and undoubtedly nice, though he was also a rather reserved and private person.
Simply put, Erryn did not share much of himself. However, within the borders of the estate, with certain trusted individuals, he was more likely to let his guard down. A genuine smile graced his face as he walked to the stable bell and rang it; Mr. Pelton, the stablemaster, was a cheerful man who would always crack a rather unprofessional joke and send Erryn off in a fine mood. Perhaps Mr. Pelton might join Erryn on the hunt in Curtis’ stead.
But it was not Mr. Pelton who answered. “Come in!” an earthy voice called from deep within the building. Erryn stood with furrowed brow. After a moment, he took hold of the sturdy wooden door and slid it open. Halfway down the line of stalls, a man sat on a wooden stool, holding a golden yellow apple in one hand and using the pocket knife in his other hand to cut it, dropping the pieces into a tin bucket in front of him. A sack of apples had sat on the ground next to him, but it seemed that he had nearly finished with them, having prepared them all for the horses to eat; a few of them were nickering impatiently, while the others dutifully chewed their roughage and grains.
“You mustn't fuss,” the man gently chastised the horse in the stall next to him. “What would the prince think-?” He froze, seeing the prince now standing there watching him. “Oh!” he said, at a loss for words. He had the wherewithal to stand, but nothing more. He was of average height, with a markedly sturdy build. His head was home to straw-colored curls and impish cerulean eyes. Erryn was sure he had seen him before, working in the pasture, but always from a distance.
“Where is Mr. Pelton?” Erryn asked, looking around for him.
“At home,” the man answered. “I’m afraid he’s unwell today.”
“I see,” Erryn frowned. He took a breath, his melancholy gnawing at the edge of his morning. “Oh, I’m terribly sorry,” he added. “I don’t believe I know your name.” He started to enter the stable, but the man held his hands up in an appeasing gesture.
“That’s quite alright,” he said. He tossed the last pieces of apple into the bucket, then folded his pocket knife and put it away. “I am Rolfe. I am the stablemaster’s right hand.” He offered a quick, polite smile. “Do you require a horse, sir?”
Again, Erryn’s brow had furrowed. “Yes,” he answered. “I’m out for a day of hunting.”
“Will Curtis be joining you?” Rolfe asked. He dusted off his palms, ready to fetch the proper horses.
“No,” Erryn answered succinctly. He waited. Rolfe waited too, considering something.
Finally, Rolfe gave a short nod. “I’ll prepare Etiquette and send him out to pasture for you.”
Without another word, Erryn turned from the building and walked to the bench that stood against the pasture fence. He removed the hunting rifle strapped across his back, rested it against the fence, and took a seat on the bench. What a curious day this was. Erryn hoped Mr. Pelton would feel better soon. His stablehand, Rolfe, was rather perplexing. He was not quite rude, but he had clearly received no sort of estate training and did not know proper decorum. Erryn wasn't offended—veneration must be earned—but he was indeed surprised.
A few short minutes, and Etiquette came galloping into the field. He was a hotblooded dark bay, a tall and elegant stallion. He approached Erryn immediately, saddled and reined and ready. Erryn stood, grabbing his rifle and casting a glance back at the stables. Rolfe was there, and he gave Erryn a parting wave.
“Rolfe!” Erryn called out without thinking. “Fancy a hunt?” He wasn't sure why he offered, and he was sure Rolfe would decline. To the surprise of both men, Rolfe held up a hand, instructing Erryn to wait, and a minute later he reemerged on horseback. He rode a broad palomino draft horse, a mare called Heart of Endurance.
Rolfe couldn’t explain what he was doing. He knew he had come off as rather coarse, making the prince stay outside and failing to bring his horse directly to him, but it was for good reason—he was supposed to keep his distance. But when Prince Erryn had called out to him, inviting him for a day in the country, it felt like too gracious an invitation to decline. It was ridiculous, to draw the line here, but to refuse the prince was simply not in Rolfe’s nature.
His chest was tight as he approached Erryn. The prince smiled kindly at him, and Rolfe thought that perhaps his worries were unfounded. However, as soon as Rolfe drew near, the amicable smile on Erryn’s face faded away. Erryn was sensing something peculiar. A kindred kind of recognition: ancient blood.
Erryn searched Rolfe’s face; at the moment, it gave nothing away. Next, his eyes flitted to Rolfe’s ears; there was no distinctive point, no declaration of the Touched. Despite the expectation to bear few children, certain nobility—fortunate in their virility—sired secret, illegitimate children. There were unknown, undocumented Touched living quiet lives amongst society at large, and they were a potential threat to the official houses, both for those they could lay claim to and for all who placed importance on the rarity of being Touched. Erryn did not feel one way or the other about this, except for the obligation he felt to honor the system of tradition. Still, he felt confident as he looked at Rolfe that this was not a stray Touched before him. But if so, what was the instinctive pull he felt between them?
Before Erryn could begin to ask, Rolfe pulled at the black leather cord around his neck, removing it from under his shirt and showing it to the prince. “Ah. The Touched are sensitive to ancient power, are they not? You must be feeling this, then.” Strung onto the cord was a pendant of precious fire opal. “It belonged to my parents. I’m told it carries a blessing.”
Erryn considered this. Such objects were rare to come by, but seeing as Rolfe did not appear to be Touched, this was a satisfactory explanation. There was still the question of how Rolfe’s family had come to possess such a valuable thing, but Erryn decided it was none of his business. With practiced diplomacy, the smile returned to his face. “Let's away, then.” He set Etiquette moving, to the western trail, where the woods held rabbits and other small game in abundance. Rolfe followed close behind on Heart of Endurance, grateful to have appeased the prince’s curiosity. “You have no rifle,” Erryn observed. “How are you to hunt?”
“Much the way Curtis does, I venture,” Rolfe replied, feeling rather cheery now. “By coming along for a pleasant ride and staying out of your way while you do the proper hunting.”
At this, Erryn guffawed. “Really,” he protested. “I must defend my friend; Curtis was an excellent shot in his day.”
Rolfe brought Heart of Endurance up alongside Etiquette. He was quite the natural rider, Erryn noticed. It was to be expected, given his position. Still, Rolfe was as broad and blond as the horse he rode upon, and that made him look all the more impressive. Rolfe, too, had noticed the sleekness and rich coloring shared between Erryn and his mount. He found himself grinning. “I hadn’t known,” he told Erryn. “I only see the two of you returning from the woods at a distance, and only Etiquette carries home quarry.”
Erryn was not used to indulging in such banter. “How did you come to work for Mr. Pelton?” he inquired.
“Hm,” Rolfe mused. Erryn’s question was genuine, but it held a tactful implication. How does someone so inelegant hold such a respectable position at such a respectable estate? “Does my manner offend you?” Rolfe asked plainly.
Erryn’s pointed ears were warm with embarrassment. He felt called out, seen in a way he was unaccustomed to. “Forgive me-” he began, but Rolfe only chuckled.
“The apology is mine to give,” Rolfe assured him. “There is a reason I keep to the horses and the fields; I’m told my formalities leave something to be desired.” At this, Erryn chuckled as well. “I was orphaned as a result of the skirmish with Umbris some 30 years ago. I was a feral child,” Rolfe added humorously. “I’m afraid I may not have grown out of it.”
The sun-dappled woods stretched before them, and the more Rolfe spoke, the less Erryn paid attention to the animal tracks and the idea of hunting altogether. Rolfe had found Sundry, the large town outside the Ephtas estate, and survived on his own for years before meeting Mr. Pelton and being taken in by him. He had worked several odd jobs in town before Mr. Pelton had brought him to work at the stables. He gave no further mention of his parents.
By the time the conversation had begun to wane, Erryn found that they had wandered away from the usual trail. The woods here were rougher, home to knobby trees with wild roots. The terrain had become unpredictable; to their right, a steep slope dropped off to a bed of moss-covered rocks far below. But up on the trail, the sweet smell of wildflowers permeated the air. Colorful, delicate blooms dotted the trailside. A sunny glade was peeking through the trees ahead.
“There,” Erryn said, and they brought the horses to a stop. Erryn peered toward the glade. He spotted some tall, wild lavender swaying in the gentle breeze, but he was far more interested in the foxhole just beyond it. He reached for his rifle, bringing it forward.
“Careful,” Rolfe muttered. He noted that Erryn had not dismounted yet, seeming eager to take his first shot from the saddle. This made Rolfe uneasy, but he refrained from comment. Once Erryn had taken his first shot, they would dismount and find a suitable place to take further aim.
Erryn pulled a wooden rabbit call from his pocket. With a little luck, he could lure the foxes from their den. He was vaguely aware of a larger animal nearby causing rustling movement, but this was not his aim and so he paid it no mind. With a sharp exhale, he brought the rabbit call wailing to life. The horses were used to this, but it startled Rolfe, who resisted the urge to clamp his hands over his ears. However, the noise quite frightened whatever else had been in the clearing, and its sudden sprint through the nearby brush unnerved Etiquette, who reeled back in alarm.
Erryn was thrown from his saddle, knocking against a tree trunk and slipping over the crumbling slope, toward the rocks below. “Erryn!” Rolfe shouted, leaping from Heart of Endurance. Erryn had thrown his hands out in search of purchase but had found none. But by some great fortune, one of the winding tree roots snaking down the cliff face had caught Erryn's foot as he fell. It wrenched his ankle, but it arrested his momentum and kept him from more serious harm.
“A-Ah,” Erryn managed, disoriented and somewhat in a state of shock.
“Fuck!” Rolfe burst, immeasurably thankful to see the prince still alive. “Oh, fuck!” He got on the ground, flattening himself and maneuvering to the edge of the cliff. Erryn only chuckled nervously. He did not want to be staring at the deadly rocks below, but it was difficult not to look down when down was up. With some strain, he was able to look back at Rolfe.
The root that held onto Erryn was nearly an arms length from the clifftop. Even if Rolfe could technically reach him, he wouldn't have the leverage to lift Erryn's weight. “There should be rope in one of the saddlebags,” Erryn called up. “You may be able to-”
“Hold on,” Rolfe instructed. He shimmied further over the edge. Stray roots and branches scraped at him as he moved forward. With both hands he grabbed round Erryn's ankle, gripping hard to ensure his boot wouldn't come slipping off. He shouldn't have had the strength to lift Erryn from this distance without the proper leverage, but somehow Erryn was raised back toward safety. Once Erryn’s foot was back over solid ground, he could bend himself forward enough to reach a hand toward Rolfe.
Rolfe grabbed his hand, and Erryn was pulled up over the cliff's edge, rolling onto the trail and taking slow breaths. Even in the midst of this harrowing incident, he was trying not to appear too shaken. Rolfe, however, had nearly been a party to the death of the prince, and he was none too shy in his discomposure. “You're alive,” he laughed. “That's the main thing.” He moved to sit on his knees, looking over Erryn, his hands hovering, ready to assist. “Tell me your ankle isn't broken, or I fear this first hunt may be my last. The horses will be happy with Pelton. Only advocate for my swift execution, if you would.”
“What are you on about?” Erryn asked. They shared a brief laugh, thankful for the prince's life. “Help me up.” Rolfe got to his feet and grabbed Erryn’s hand once again, pulling him to his feet. “Ah,” Erryn winced, shifting his weight off of the affected ankle. “Not broken, you’ll be glad to know. Just rather worse for wear.”
“Here,” Rolfe gestured toward Heart of Endurance, who waited patiently on the trail. “You’ll ride her home.”
Erryn looked down the trail, where Etiquette had run a short distance; he was now grazing on wild herbs. “No need,” he replied to Rolfe. “Etiquette may be hotblooded, but he is still finely trained. I would not begrudge him his nature.”
“Certainly,” Rolfe agreed. “But I won’t be fetching him for you.” He grinned at Erryn’s vexation. “Up you get,” he added, gesturing once more for Erryn to take Heart of Endurance. “Do you require assistance?”
With an exasperated huff, Erryn approached the mare. He was limping, only slightly, but enough for Rolfe to follow and offer a steady hand while Erryn lifted himself up and into the saddle. Once Erryn was safely ready, Rolfe turned and gave a sharp whistle. Etiquette’s ears swiveled; he lifted his head and trotted over obediently, turning to give Rolfe access to the stirrups. Rolfe picked Erryn’s rifle off the ground with a frown and handed it to him. With some chagrin, Erryn stowed it on his back, and they were ready to depart.
They rode back in relative silence. A swirl of questions had descended upon Erryn, but he couldn't begin to put words to any of them, so he was reduced to pensive quietness. Rolfe took them past the stables, directly to the manor. He looked slightly out of place, juxtaposed against the stately home. He dismounted, then helped Erryn to do so. “Shall I help you in?” he asked, looking warily up the steps of the manor.
“No need,” Erryn said with a shake of his head. He looked at Rolfe, feeling almost as if he weren’t quite real. “Thank you, for today. I suppose ‘thank you’ doesn’t begin to cover it.”
Rolfe was somber; he too lacked the words for such a parting. “So long, then,” he said, returning to Heart of Endurance and swiftly mounting up with ease. With a short whistle, both horses began to canter back toward the stables. Erryn watched them go for a moment, then turned and carefully climbed the steps and went inside.
CH 2: ARRANGEMENTS
Prince Drake Ephtas was escorting a pretty young maid out of his room when he spotted Dolly fussing with a floral arrangement in the hall. It had been a more understated arrangement, sitting in a matte white vase on a narrow wooden display table. She had made it only yesterday, yet here she was, haphazardly sticking in a few stems of lavender and causing their petals to shed. She gave a friendly little wave to Maude, the maid, who waved back before scurrying down the hall and out of sight. Dolly then turned an exasperated gaze toward Drake, who couldn’t help but grin back at her.
“What brings you here?” he asked her pleasantly. Dolly was both the florist and an assistant gardener. She was short, with a round face, doe eyes, and a bob of thick waves the color of burnt almond. Her work kept her mostly outside, especially in the early hours, but she would often spend the later hours inside the manor, beautifying the halls and rooms with her arrangements.
Dolly did not look to be in the mood for the prince’s charms. “Drake,” she said quietly, breathlessly. “I’m afraid something awful may have happened.”
A frown dashed across Drake’s handsome face. “Are you alright?” he asked, stepping closer to her. He reached a hand toward her, but then his older brother came walking down the hall, so Drake put his hand on one of the flowers instead, feeling the petal’s texture and inspecting the arrangement rather performatively. “Erryn,” he greeted jovially. He took notice of Erryn’s slight limp and gestured toward him. “What happened?” he asked. He took another step closer to Dolly, casting a concerned glance at her, but she was now sighing with relief.
“Your highness!” she breathed, greeting Prince Erryn with an earnest smile. Then she seemed to remember herself, and she quickly ran her hands through her hair, volumizing the waves; they frizzed out like a thick, protective hood over her head. Erryn had noticed this habit of hers before. He attributed it to a nervous disposition.
“Dolly, how are you?” he greeted, smiling politely in return.
“Wonderful, thank you,” she replied briefly, then turned and busied herself with the arrangement again, taking more care this time.
“So what happened?” Drake insisted, gesturing again to Erryn's ankle.
“Right,” Erryn said, nodding energetically. “I'll sit, shall I?” He headed for Drake's bedroom door, then paused. “Unless you're harboring any more maids?”
Drake opened the door and held it wide for Erryn to pass through. “Truly, you were graced with all the humor.” He cast another glance at Dolly before entering the room. He was still quite confused, but whatever she'd been so worried about, it affected her no longer; she smiled apologetically, gesturing for him to hurry along after his brother.
Erryn surveyed Drake's bedroom. The bed was a shoddy mess, and there were clothes strewn across the armchairs. Thankfully, they all appeared to belong to Drake, which spared Erryn the embarrassment of finding any maidens’ things. Drake had always been one to enjoy the company of women. Mistresses were to be expected, but Drake had been incorrigible recently, spending time with handfuls of the staff and earning himself the name of Patron Prince. He seemed to get along quite well with all of them, and he treated them with special care.
Erryn took the undershirt atop the nearest armchair and placed it on the other. Truly, Drake had been allowed a wanton and untidy life. Sitting down, Erryn noticed the chessboard on the table, pieces positioned mid-game. He hadn't thought Drake was one for chess. Shaking his head, he remembered the buzzing feeling with which he had come to speak with Drake. “I went to hunt today,” he said, “and nearly met my demise.”
“Surely not,” Drake said in astonishment.
“I found myself on an unfamiliar trail,” Erryn went on, “with tangled trees and steep terrain. Something frightened Etiquette, and I was thrown cliffside. If not for a twisted root, I'd have fallen to the end of me.”
“Was Curtis with you?”
“He was otherwise occupied today. No, by chance I had gone out with the stablehand.”
“Mr. Pelton?” Drake clarified.
Erryn shook his head. He felt energetic, remembering the adrenaline of his earlier misadventure. “Indisposed,” he answered. “This was his right hand, a man called Rolfe.”
“I'm not familiar,” Drake said.
“He pulled me up from the cliff's face as if it were nothing,” Erryn recalled with amazement. Drake was impressed, and pleased at Erryn's rescue, but Erryn was trying to convey more to him. “He shouldn't have been able to…” he trailed off. Whatever this pressing sense of awe was that Erryn had been left with, it seemed that he would be the only one to feel the weight of it. Drake hadn't been there—he couldn't possibly understand the impossible nature of Rolfe's rescue, or the curious way Rolfe had bantered with him. The witty remarks, the familiar tone. Erryn, he’d yelled as the prince had gone over.
A nameless frustration lodged itself in Erryn’s chest. A few more minutes of conversation, and Erryn felt free to excuse himself and return to his own room. He would rest his leg until dinnertime.
Drake returned to the hallway, hoping that Dolly would still be hovering nearby, but she had already absented herself. With a silent curse, he went back into his room. He eyed the chessboard; he was fairly certain that Maude would be besting him again.
On the other side of the manor, Elena Helm was being escorted into the west parlor. It was a sunny room surrounded by glass, overlooking the blooming gardens. She had been keenly taking in all that she saw, from the estate grounds, to the interiors, to the inhabitants themselves. It was a beautiful manor, she thought, but she was surprised by its small scale. It was rather similar to her own home in Jadewick. Her father, a nobleman, served on the council there. He’d come from nothing, made a name for himself in the gem trade, and had made a small fortune by the time he was given his title. This was a man who believed in the nonstop betterment of oneself, and as such, Elena had been raised to settle for nothing less than perfection.
She had read about Ephtas and what she might expect when she arrived. In her history book, an image of King Merit had been printed nearly a century ago. He’d been a young man then, with a rounded face and wide eyes. She’d been told that these days, the image would be a likely approximation of both Prince Erryn and Prince Drake. Elena still found it difficult to imagine time on such a scale; she was of common blood, and though her parents had placed her in proximity to Touched as often as possible, she had simply not been alive long enough to notice their agelessness for herself. A familiar pang of envy washed over her. She could never be perfect, not compared to them.
The estate manager, Curtis, had greeted her when she’d arrived and escorted her to the parlor. He’d been very kind, but she had artfully observed the tension in his shoulders and at the corner of his brow. She wondered if it had to do with her arrival. Curtis had exited the room, promising a quick return, and in the meantime, coffee had been brought in by a maid.
True to his word, Curtis returned before long. “King Merit Ephtas,” he announced. To the king, he added, “Lady Elena Helm.”
“I am honored by your presence, my lady,” Merit met her with a bow. Elena was too practiced in social introductions to take more than a moment to reply, but within the confines of that moment, she was utterly taken aback. Firstly, there was the appearance of the king. She had seen the image of his youth, and then—knowing him to be 120 years old—she had subconsciously imagined him wrinkled and silver. But the man who stood before her was still mid-life, and he did not look a day over 50. He was no longer fresh-faced and wide-eyed, but angular and mature. His dark hair, while manicured, was kept longer than that of the nobles Elena was used to. His hazel eyes were heavy-lidded, sagacious and ungrudging. He kept a close beard. There was a long-faded scar on his left cheek—a burn, perhaps. The skin was smooth and healed, but a touch darker here than elsewhere.
And then there was his greeting—when was the last time someone Touched had spoken to her so gently? Not since she was a child, actively fawned over. As she’d grown, she’d become sharp for her intellect and prickly to those who would speak down to her. King Merit had read this disposition immediately; he was familiar with the air of the perfectionist. He’d instilled it in Erryn. He’d lived it himself. He’d relaxed with age, and with the knowledge that Erryn would never grow complacent in his role of future king, and now he sometimes wondered if he had lived a life too tightly wound.
Looking at Elena Helm, he knew at once that she carried a great weight on her shoulders, and he found it a pity. She was young, brilliant, and beautiful. Remarkably beautiful, in fact. Her long hair was a deep black inclining toward bluish undertones. Her sharp, bright eyes were that of an ocean storm. Merit had not known what she would look like, only that she was qualified for the role he needed her to fulfill.
“The honor is mine, my king,” Elena replied with a deferential bow.
“I trust you were well met upon arrival?”
“Most graciously, sir.” She stood straight, her hands clasped delicately in front of her, and smiled politely toward Curtis. A single guard had also been present when she arrived, but Curtis had been the proper welcome. She found it somewhat odd that there were so few staff here at Ephtas Manor. The family was known to keep a small home for their stature, but she was struck by the fact that there had been more attendants back in Jadewick. Even the king himself had walked in without an attendant other than the estate manager.
“Do let us know of anything you require,” said Merit. “You are welcome a lady's maid. I'm afraid we've not had need of one in some years.”
“I'll take heed of it,” Elena said gratefully. “At present I'm sure I'll manage.” King Merit fought a smile. How curious she was.
Curtis took a small step forward. “If you'll excuse me,” he said, “I shall check on the dinner preparations.” He left them to their coffee and conversation. He'd had a very long day indeed, and as he helped to set the dining room and retrieve the princes, he feared that there was more yet to come.
Drake had been summoned first, and he went to fetch Erryn on Curtis’ behalf. They walked to the dining room together. Erryn sat in his chair, which was on the right side of his father's place at the head of the table. Drake moved to sit opposite, but Curtis instructed him to move down, keeping that chair empty. “We have a guest, do we?” he quipped, taking his newly assigned seat. He cast a cheeky grin at Erryn. “Will it be the lucky lady?”
Erryn's nostrils flared. He hadn't assumed that the guest would be meant for him. It had been more than a year since the last noblewoman had stayed in the guest quarters. More than that, he had always been told in advance when such a woman would be visiting. His schedule would be cleared, and he would be tasked with entertaining her for the duration of her stay. Surely King Merit would not bring such a prospect here without impressing upon Erryn all her fine qualities and why he ought to court her.
The door opened and King Merit entered. He looked rather serious. “Erryn,” he said, cutting to the heart of the matter. “Lady Elena Helm will be joining us shortly.” Prince Drake snickered. How predictable. The king ignored him. “She will be in your care.”
Erryn squared his jaw. “Very well.”
Merit paused, building the tension, daring anyone to challenge his decision. “She will be staying with us indefinitely.”
“In-?” Erryn choked on the word.
“In due time, you will ask for her hand,” declared the king.
At this, both princes were left with jaws agape. At the far end of the room, Curtis held a troubled frown. It was as he'd feared. Merit had waited decades for Erryn to choose a wife, and he had failed to do so. It was true that Erryn was well past his expected marriage age. It wouldn't be of much concern, but Merit had dreams of early retirement in another ten years or so. He himself had been crowned quite young after the death of King Wesley, and he had worked harder than he'd needed to in building the wealth of his kingdom and the prosperity of his people. Rest was deserved, and Erryn was more than capable of taking over, but Merit was opposed to crowning his son until the next heir was born. One would think, Curtis thought, that such a long life would have afforded Merit more flexibility.
“I…” Erryn was at a loss.
King Merit softened, yet only a little. “Long have I waited, hoping that some maiden would catch your eye. In my aging years, I find it requisite to appoint to you a suitable wife.” He took in the emotions of the others in the room—his sons’ undisguised shock, Curtis’ quiet disapproval. He gained no joy in this, but it was what was best for Ephtas, and that alone was paramount. “I am not so cruel as to mark the date of your own wedding,” he assured Erryn. “You may take your time. Only know that this is all in place with the approval and good graces of Lady Helm’s family. There will be no rescinding of this arrangement.”
CH 3: GATHERING STORM
Erryn was afforded a few minutes to collect himself before the arrival of Lady Elena. He paced wordlessly along the length of the dining room while the others spoke in hushed tones on the other side of the room. Erryn felt a creeping turmoil within. Breathe, he commanded himself. King Merit would not be swayed. It would take time for Erryn to come to terms with this, but in the meantime, he must be able to greet Elena courteously.
She arrived then, standing in the doorway like a painting in a frame, a classic beauty. As if by some spell, Erryn moved forward, assuming his role. “Lady Elena,” he greeted her, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips. “It is an honor to meet you.” She noted his movements, the way he imitated the king with his manner of speech. Perhaps this was someone like her, aiming to fulfill an expectation they could never quite reach.
She smiled at him, endearing. “You flatter me,” she replied, giving his hand a light squeeze while performing a small curtsy. “To be welcomed into the house of Ephtas is more than I could desire.” Erryn withdrew from her, taking in the finer details, attempting to find a spark of something between them. She moved and spoke with the effortless confidence usually held by the Touched, and he had to glance at her ears to be sure. Elena noticed this, and she was both proud of her performance and pained by the certainty of Prince Erryn’s disappointment.
“Greetings, my lady,” Prince Drake said then, breaking the silence before it could stretch out before them. He did not take her hand, only bowed and flashed a smile too playful for the circumstances.
“Good prince,” she replied, a friendly smile in return. Again, she was intrigued by the manner of these Ephtas men. They were courteous and polite, but there was a sort of affable familiarity that invited her to let her guard down. The question, she decided, is whether it is an authentic disposition or a means to disarm.
With the ringing of a bell, dinner was announced, and everyone took their seats. Erryn floated through the evening in a dreamlike state. He learned of Lady Elena’s upbringing in Jadewick, and of her passion for history and politics. They spoke of pleasantries, the benign conversation of fresh acquaintances. When the meal was finished and the table had been cleared, Elena professed to be quite tired. Erryn offered to escort her to her room, but she politely declined, asking for a maid to escort her and help her to unpack her things.
She had surmised that her arrival had come as a shock to the prince. She would tread lightly, appearing only as often as he wished. This courtship had been designed for the betterment of both houses, and Elena took that obligation gravely. There would be no failing on her part. He would be the king some day soon. She would be the queen that any king would wish to have.
Upon her exit, Erryn did not wish to stay. He strode from the dining room to the library, where he would sit in his leather chair, drink brandy, and stare out into the gathering storm that billowed in from the south. He had just poured himself a tall glass when Curtis came in, clearing his throat to announce himself. “May I join you?” he asked. Knowing the answer, he had already begun to sink into the available empty chair, sighing as his old bones settled into the leather.
“Had you known?” Erryn asked, filling another glass with brandy. Rain pattered against the windowpanes.
“No, my prince,” Curtis answered, taking the glass from Erryn and tipping it toward him in a thankful gesture. “Not until shortly before yourself. Still, I had some sense of the impending pronouncement when Merit had not included me in his plans.”
“Would you have rebuffed him?” Erryn took a long swill, sinking lower in his chair. He looked into his glass, into his reflection; it had been 33 years since that memorable nameday celebration, and little had changed. His reflection was the same. His father had brought a maiden to call, and Erryn found himself drinking with a commiserating Curtis.
Curtis took a thoughtful drink, deciding on a course of action. “Did you know I had a wife?” he asked suddenly.
Erryn balked at him. “A wife?” he said incredulously.
Curtis smiled, understanding Erryn’s reaction. “Yes,” he said. “Tristan.”
“I’ve never known you to have had a wife,” Erryn insisted. He worked to remember the name. “Tristan? Wasn’t that a friend of yours?”
“A dear friend,” Curtis agreed with a nod. “You may have seen her only a time or two, but you would have heard me speak of her plenty over the years.” Erryn was perplexed, not just by this information, but by the manner of Curtis’ delivery. Curtis nodded again, reassuring Erryn that there was sense in what he was saying. “We were married for only a few short years, and then she did me the kindness of divorcing me and not hating me.”
“But… why?” Erryn asked.
Curtis stroked his beard, remembering days long past. “I couldn’t love her in the way she wanted,” he answered. “I cared for her, to be sure, but I wasn’t suited for a love of that depth—not with her, or anyone.” Erryn furrowed his brow. “I married her because I thought it the proper thing to do. I had no one to pressure me, only that of being a young man expecting to follow a well-worn path.” He smiled ruefully. “It can take a long time to see yourself, my prince.”
Erryn did not know what to say in response to such soul-baring. He took another deep drink from his glass, feeling as though he could weep. “Are you happy, Curtis?”
A fond look settled over Curtis. “Yes, my prince.” He leaned forward, setting his glass on the table before him. “I confess,” he said, “I have wondered a time or two this last decade if perhaps your heart lies beyond the princesses and noblewomen good King Merit has introduced.”
“I… I don’t know,” Erryn acknowledged, feeling guilty and embarrassed. Composure, he reprimanded himself. He was abundantly thankful for Curtis, for the care he showed, but he was feeling rather interrogated by the query. Was Erryn suited to love Elena, or any woman, in the way she might want? No, he finally admitted to himself. It was a certainty he’d avoided for as long as he could. But was he like Curtis, uninterested in romance altogether? Here, he was unsure.
Erryn’s path had been laid out before him from the day he was conceived. Learn to be perfect. Marry. Sire an heir and become king. Same-sex marriages were commonplace—but not for royalty. Not for the Touched. Reproducing was imperative. The very idea of romance with a man had never occurred to Erryn before. As the crown prince, it was an ethical impossibility. Follow in the path of your father, Erryn repeated. Take nothing for granted.
“I believe I need some air,” he said, setting his glass down, standing, and practically staggering from the library. Curtis had the decency to let him go.
Erryn wandered to the front of the house. The guard gave him an inquisitive look as he stepped out the front door and into the rain but did not question him. Erryn did not know by what design his feet moved him forward, but still he pressed on. The only vague objective was to put distance between the manor and himself. He walked in silence, thunder rolling around him.
That was, until he looked up and saw Rolfe in the paddock, struggling to corral a frightened mare. “Back inside, you blasted thing!” he shouted over the pouring rain. With a start, it ran forward, into the shelter of the stables. Erryn watched as Rolfe marched after it in irritation. Walking quickly now, as if he weren’t already soaked, Erryn headed toward the light of the stables.
Rolfe was inside, securing the stall of the finicky mare. She was a staff horse, kept for generic estate work and whoever might need to borrow her. Rolfe muttered to himself as he got her settled in, then jumped when he turned and saw Erryn standing by the entrance. “Wha-” He exhaled quickly, suppressing his unmannerly reaction. “What on earth brings you here at this hour?” he asked. “And in this weather?”
“I…” Erryn’s voice was rather small.
Rolfe took a long look at him. Erryn looked like the forlorn hero of some great tragedy, beleaguered, caught under a heavy weight. The rain had slicked his dark hair and drenched his clothes; they clung to him as if he and they were sculpted from the same piece of marble. The lingering embers in Rolfe began to crackle. “Come in, then,” he instructed, gesturing for Erryn to close the door behind himself and join him. “Sit by the stove. I’ve avoided your death once today already—I’ll not have you cross me by contracting some grievous cold.”
Erryn closed the stable door and followed Rolfe into the little kitchenette. There was a two-person table, cabinetry, and a charcoal stove for heating meals. Coals still burned from Rolfe’s earlier dinner. Rolfe pulled the chairs to sit in front of the stove, and together they took their places. Rolfe himself had been thoroughly doused by the rain, and he held his hands out to regain some warmth.
Despite the cramped space, Erryn felt that he had regained the ability to breathe. “Thank you,” he said coarsely. He mirrored Rolfe, holding his hands nearer the stove. “How had that horse found its way outside?”
Rolfe clicked his teeth. “She was lent out this morning to a servant of the house,” he said irritably. “On behalf of some maid or groundskeeper or the like. It was during our earlier outing when she was returned, and evidently without care—her stall had not been properly closed. The storm frightened her, resulting in her temporary escape.”
His tone was oddly comforting to Erryn. That uninhibited, informal demeanor was a welcome departure from the realities waiting for him back within the manor. He watched the droplets falling from Rolfe’s flaxen curls. In the wake of the king’s announcement, Erryn had temporarily forgotten his earlier, nameless frustration regarding Rolfe. It was a sort of fascination that filled his chest and subdued all other preoccupations. Rolfe met his eye.
“I’ll ask again,” Rolfe said, his tone more playful now. “For what reason am I graced with your presence?”
Erryn exhaled slowly. “Have you a wife, Rolfe?”
Rolfe’s head cocked to the side. “What an odd question. No, I’ve no wife.”
“And why not?” Erryn pressed. “Because your home is still with Mr. Pelton?”
Rolfe laughed. “How very forward!” He looked at Erryn, who earnestly awaited the answer. An anticipative suspicion began to stir within him. He scoffed. “I’ve no wife because I’ve no desire for one.” Erryn seemed about to reply, but a sharp sneeze escaped him instead. Again, Rolfe clicked his teeth in disapproval. “Really,” he admonished. “Your penchant for self endangerment is infuriating.” He stood, motioning for Erryn to do the same. “You must remove your overshirt, at the very least, or you'll never get dry.”
Obediently, Erryn rose and removed his heavy overshirt. Rolfe took it, wrung it over the little copper sink, and laid it over the edge to dry. “And you?” Erryn asked quietly. His tone held Rolfe in suspense. “I'd rather you didn't fall ill either.”
“I run warm,” Rolfe assured him. “And I've only one layer.” His eyes narrowed by the slightest margin. A roguish grin played on his lips. “Unless it would please your highness for me to remove it?”
Of all the reactions Rolfe might have expected, Erryn stepping over to him and grabbing the hem of his shirt was not one of them. Flush with embarrassment, Erryn drew close, his hands searching to pull the wet clothes off of Rolfe, but as his hands brushed against Rolfe’s skin, he reached up without thinking, mindlessly feeling the muscles of Rolfe’s stomach, the trail of hair beneath his navel. Rolfe inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of Erryn’s wet hair, summer rain mixed with a light floral soap. His lovely pointed ears had turned pink like apple blossoms.
Rolfe grabbed hold of Erryn’s undershirt by the waist and pulled him close. His tongue caressed Erryn’s ear from outer lobe to pointed helix. “Ahh,” Erryn moaned, having forgotten himself completely.
“All at once, your touch strains honor,” Rolfe breathed, hot on Erryn’s neck. “Hitherto I’d been a virtuous servant.” Erryn heard the smile on Rolfe’s face, felt the teeth graze his throat. The ability for banter had long since left him, so instead, Erryn moved his hands to the sides of Rolfe’s face and kissed him. It was like falling into a pleasant dream, like riding through the forest for the first time.
Rolfe yanked at Erryn’s undershirt, and the kiss was broken just long enough to remove it. He felt Erryn’s lean body, smooth and lithe. Rolfe’s hands were broad and warm, and softer than one would expect for his line of work. Erryn pulled Rolfe’s shirt up and over his head, and both garments were discarded carelessly on the floor. Rolfe moved forward, pressing Erryn against the wall and kissing him deeply. Erryn may have stood taller than Rolfe, but he felt diminutive and malleable in Rolfe’s care.
Erryn felt Rolfe’s tongue brush against his. He felt Rolfe’s hands on his waist, his thumbs resting in the crook above his hips. He felt Rolfe—all of Rolfe—pressing against him. Most of all, he felt an unmitigated longing that proved to him once and for all that he did desire romance and all that accompanied it. Tomorrow it might be a curse, but for now, in this moment, it was a blessing. A joyful tear fell from his weary hazel eye.
With a restrained breath, Rolfe pulled back. His sharp cerulean eyes scanned Erryn’s face. “What is it?” he asked gently. He raised his hand and wiped Erryn’s tear away with his thumb, keeping his hand resting tenderly on Erryn’s cheek. “Do you wish to stop?”
Erryn chuckled sheepishly. “Far from it,” he said quietly. He leaned forward then, resting his head on Rolfe’s shoulder and hugging him. He was broad and warm and smelled of the earth. The kindred feeling was back, and he felt that it surely went deeper than a pendant of fire opal—it was something within Rolfe, speaking to him on a base level.
He leaned away then, surveying Rolfe. “Rolfe,” he said slowly, “you don't have your pendant.”
“Pardon?” Rolfe said, quite confused. He reached a hand to his clavicle, but there was no pendant resting there. “What!” he burst, looking frantically around the room as if it should appear. His hand clamped his forehead as he made a realization. “The cliff… the branches…” He could envision it now, the scraping branches snapping the cord of the pendant as he worked to grab hold of Erryn's leg. “Damn it all,” he cursed. He would go retrieve it first thing in the morning.
Erryn was shaking his head, his senses returning to him. “I still feel it,” he muttered. “Ancient blood.” He saw the fearful look that crossed Rolfe's face. “Are you Touched after all?”
“No,” Rolfe said firmly. “I'm… That is, I…” His eyes bore into Erryn's, imploring him. “I'm something else.”
“Else?” Erryn repeated, demanded.
Rolfe could not refuse him. “I only hope you'll not forsake me,” he grumbled. A heavy sigh escaped him. “I am that which spurred my own orphanage,” he said. “The cause of that skirmish with Umbris.”
Erryn's memory transported him to those days 30 years prior. Ephtas had found that female and negotiated her enlistment in the protection of the kingdom. But when Umbris had learned of her, she had been hunted down and exterminated. Erryn had not known of a child, and apparently neither had Umbris. His eyes grew wide. “The dragon.”
“Only by a half,” Rolfe said. “My father, a human in love, did dutifully guard me until I hatched, then promptly died of a broken heart.” Erryn, having known dragons, was not afraid. Rather he was astounded by this turn of events and eager to learn more. Rolfe saw this and gave a timid, wistful smile. “Close your eyes,” he instructed. Erryn closed his eyes. He could envision the face of Rolfe’s mother; she too had been blond and sightly. Had it not been for the royal family intervening in her life, she might still be living in the forests of Ephtas. “Open,” Rolfe spoke, and Erryn opened his eyes.
Rolfe still stood before him, his form partially changed. First were his shocking blue eyes. They had an iridescent shift and reptilian iris. His head was crowned with helical horns. His hand, which he held out before him for Erryn to take, had grown daggerlike nails on each finger. Erryn cautiously placed his hand in Rolfe’s, taking measure. These were the same hands that had caused him to melt mere moments ago. Erryn didn’t know what to say. “You lied to me.”
“Regrettably, I have reason to shield my true nature,” Rolfe spoke softly, afraid to frighten the prince away. He moved Erryn’s hand to place it upon his chest, over his heart. “Dragons die when they are unearthed.”
Erryn felt Rolfe’s beating heart, saw the quiet apprehension on his face. Dragons were threats to kings in neighboring territories; Rolfe’s mother had been killed, when Ephtas had retained her merely for protection. “I would not breathe a word of you without your assent,” Erryn assured him.
Rolfe’s draconic eyes sparked with affection. “I know that to be true, here and now. But I would lie anew if I should pretend that I would not throw myself toward battle at your whim; this heart is yours to command.”
“Nonsense,” Erryn said. “You profess too much.” He retracted his hand with a measured exhale.
“Do dragons not serve the Touched?” Rolfe said in jest, his familiar smile returned to his handsome face.
“Not I,” Erryn shook his head. He retrieved his undershirt from the floor; it had grown cold, and he grimaced as he pulled it back on.
“Are you going?” Rolfe asked, the smile now faded.
“Yes,” said Erryn. “I have much to think about.”
“Tell me now if I should run to the forest tonight and never return,” Rolfe grumbled.
“Of course not,” Erryn assured. He grabbed his overshirt from the sink and shrugged it on.
Rolfe observed this, listened to the rain drumming on the stable roof, and couldn’t help but grumble. “Fine then, off with you. Only do your thinking in a hot bath or under the covers.”
A chuckle escaped from Erryn. Rolfe’s continued concern with his wellbeing was a comfort in the face of these revelations. “A truce then,” he agreed. With that, he left the stables, hurrying through the rain and back to Ephtas Manor.
CH 4: TOGETHER
It had been several days since the arrival of Lady Elena. Prince Drake had not seen much of her, but he had observed the manner in which Erryn had been escorting her around the estate and keeping her company. He was polite, detached. Drake imagined they must both be feeling rather uncomfortable. It made him all the more appreciative of his own circumstances—it may be exhausting, putting on airs and keeping constant watch over Dolly, but at least when they were together, they were happy.
Dolly was with him, her head resting on his chest as they lay in bed together. He traced his fingers across her naked back. “Hm,” she hummed at the lightness of his touch. She turned her face up to him, lashes framing large doe eyes. “Seraphine had asked me to thank you,” she remembered, “for the days off you gave her to spend with her cousins.”
“It was nothing,” Drake replied. Seraphine was an assistant to the cook, helping in the kitchen and with the shopping. She was also one of Prince Drake’s so-called lovers. She was an aspiring poet, and she often read her latest works to Drake while they sat and drank coffee in his bedroom. The ever-present guilt tugged at Drake’s heart. He was not a liar by nature, but he had been hiding himself from the world this past year—or rather, hiding Dolly. He moved his hand from her back to her head, tucking her thick, messy hair behind her ear; it came to a point more prominent than his own.
Dolly was Touched, one of those unaccounted for individuals born in secret and left to fend for themselves. She had been only the girl from the flower shop when Drake had first laid eyes on her during his travels in Illamette, but their whirlwind romance had brought her to the heart of Ephtas. Here they could be together, but it came at the cost of hiding her identity. Drake took precautions, keeping her near, and escorting other maidens to and from his room so that no shrewd eyes would linger on Dolly for too long.
This was also the reason why, several days prior, when Dolly had been picking wild lavender—Drake’s favorite—she had needed to run away when Prince Erryn had appeared in the woods. She hadn’t had Drake there to protect her, to shield her with his ancient blood. She had feared that the elder prince had still managed to discover her secret, until he appeared in the hallway of Drake’s room, none the wiser. Still, she felt some remorse for the injury she had inadvertently caused him by way of startling his horse. He was well mended now, but the contrition remained.
“How does your brother fare?” she asked Drake. She lifted herself onto an elbow, looking into Drake’s charming eyes.
Drake sighed. “I worry,” he confessed. “I had hoped that he would make the best of the hand that Father dealt, but he is no less aloof than with every woman prior.”
Dolly allowed a small smile. “You are good to worry.” She did not wish this somber mood upon either prince. “I can make an arrangement,” she offered. “Deliver it to her room as it were from him.”
Drake looked at her fondly. “A wonderful idea,” he told her. He leaned over to kiss her pillowy lips. She was soft as a petal and just as sweet.
That evening, when dinner had ended and Lady Elena entered her room, she found two gifts upon the table. First, there was a porcelain vase holding a small, artful arrangement of chamomile and white jasmine. Elena read it to mean patience and goodwill in the face of new beginnings. She was quite sure that Erryn wouldn’t have requested these flowers specifically, but it seemed clear that the message was on his behalf. The arrangement was to Elena’s taste; she admired the small blooms and their calming scent.
Elena had spent some time with Erryn in the last few days, touring the grounds and having tea and coffee. She hadn’t expected him to swoon at her, a stranger, but she was disappointed by how little he seemed to be interested in her. Am I not interesting enough? Or simply not what he had envisioned in a partner? As ever, Elena wanted more than anything to be seen and valued. The receipt of these gifts had come as a welcome surprise. She smiled at her flowers. It was a thoughtful gesture, still somewhat reserved, but appreciated.
Near the vase sat a black box with a thick blue satin ribbon. It looked to be the sort of box that typically carried jewelry, and Elena found it unexpected to receive jewelry when the Ephtas men were not ones to lavish themselves. A necklace, she guessed. She presumed that as with the flowers, Prince Erryn would have commissioned a member of the staff to pick something out for her. I will wear it tomorrow and give him my thanks. She untied the ribbon, placing it aside. She opened the box and surrendered a gasp.
Inside were two pointed ear cuffs. Spun delicately of gold, with petite diamonds dotting the outer edge, they were so much more than jewelry—they were a symbol of what she longed to be. Wearing these, she was elevated from common blood and given admittance into a family of the Touched. Tears brimmed her eyes as she caressed the point of the artificial ear. Finally, someone had seen her.
Earlier that evening, Erryn had gone to his own bedroom at the end of dinner. The last few days had been a blur. He couldn’t stop thinking about Rolfe. There was much Erryn wanted to discuss, but now that he knew Rolfe's secret, he was afraid to draw any unnecessary attention to him, and disappearing himself from the house would arouse suspicion. He wanted to let Rolfe know that he would be a trustworthy confidante. He had looked so worried, as if Erryn would be frightened of him.
If anything, Erryn felt more drawn to him. Here was another man who felt he must keep his true self hidden. Erryn had only just begun to discover himself in Rolfe's arms, and he had no interest in returning to a life of pretend—not with himself, at any rate. All through the day, his mind drifted to that kitchenette. He had felt so alive with Rolfe's hands touching him. Erryn let out a frustrated groan. It was already evening; if he made haste to the stables, he wouldn't be missed.
His desires getting the better of him, Erryn made his way to the manor foyer. The guard nodded at him and opened the door. Outside on the steps, Rolfe stood, one hand frozen in a raised fist, reluctant to knock. “Rolfe!” Erryn exclaimed, his voice hushed. Rolfe’s form was as it had been when they had first met—that of the rugged stablehand, common blood and easy to behold. The pendant was around his neck, displayed prominently over his shirt. Rolfe’s eyes widened at Erryn’s sudden arrival. He looked apologetic, ready to turn and scurry away. Erryn quickly considered his options. Rolfe had already been seen by the guard; it would seem odd to turn him away from the door. “Come in,” Erryn said pleasantly. “We’ve much to discuss.”
Rolfe relaxed into a nonchalant smile. He would appear as an invited guest, here to discuss trivial matters such as the stable budget or the training of the newest foal. “Thank you,” he answered politely, stepping into the manor and nodding a friendly greeting to the guard. Rolfe hadn’t expected to come inside, and he felt odd standing in such hallowed halls.
Erryn walked quickly, leading Rolfe somewhere they would have some privacy. They encountered no one else within the halls, and when they slipped into a room and Rolfe took it in, he was surprised to find that they were in the prince’s bedroom. The furnishings were a rich, dark wood. Rolfe presumed them to be antique and quite heavy. It was clear that Erryn liked to read, because books were the most prominent decor across the room, but it was also clear that Erryn was decidedly neat, because even the books currently being read were bookmarked with unwrinkled ribbons and set at pin-straight angles in the corner of each table, desk, and mantel. Erryn closed the door quietly behind them, and at last, they were alone.
He could scarcely believe that Rolfe was here, in his bedroom. “I’m sorry to have kept you without word,” Erryn said. He expected it was the reason Rolfe had ventured to the house.
“I hope I’ve not overstepped my bounds,” Rolfe replied, still looking about the room.
“Quite the contrary,” Erryn uttered. Rolfe’s eyes met his, and the tension was back between them. Erryn cleared his throat. “I see you’ve retrieved your pendant,” he said. He went to the sitting area and settled into a chair, gesturing for Rolfe to do the same.
“Yes,” said Rolfe. He stepped closer to Erryn but did not sit down. He pulled the leather cord over his head, removing the opal and offering it for Erryn to examine. “It’s quite precious to me. It may hold no ancient blessing, but it did belong to my mother, and I do treasure it.”
Erryn took hold of it, examining the glint of the fire opal, the way it refracted the light. It was certainly beautiful. One could easily believe that such a thing held some enchanted power. “I respect the need you have to keep such an object at the ready; especially here, where your blood may be recognized, it seems prudent to have a fabricated explanation.” Rolfe sighed in relief. Erryn was marvelously understanding.
Another question had been gnawing at Erryn. He gently set the pendant on the table, then joined Rolfe in standing. “What of Mr. Pelton?” he asked. “Surely he knows?”
Rolfe gave a fervent shake of his head. “No, he does not know. The man pays no mind to anything but his work and his fishing. And I’m rather clever, you know,” he joked, smiling at Erryn. “How long had I evaded even your perceptive attention?” Erryn chuckled at that. “No,” Rolfe continued, stepping closer to Erryn, igniting a spark between them, “I’m afraid that in this knowledge, I’ve been quite alone.” He raised his hands, gently brushing Erryn’s arms with the backs of his fingers.
“I’ll not have that any longer,” Erryn breathed. He leaned forward, taking Rolfe in a kiss. As before, the relaxing pleasure of being with Rolfe washed over him. He was relieved to find that this had not been a one-off feeling; he was now more certain than ever before that he desired Rolfe entirely, and it made him feel whole.
Rolfe had been pining over the prince, and he realized now that the feeling had begun much earlier than the day they’d gone out on the trail together. Erryn was the vision of handsome elegance. He was nimble and lithe, made to ride, and Rolfe had been taken with him since he had first seen him across the estate fields. Now, he was overcome with lust. He pressed himself against Erryn, his tongue finding his throat, his collarbone, the inside of his mouth, but it wasn’t enough.
“Your cock,” Rolfe breathed, his voice strained. “Let me see it.”
Erryn’s breath hitched as Rolfe’s thumbs tugged at his belt. Erryn had never used such coarse language before. He’d been taught the anatomy, but it had remained a clinical thing, part of nature to be studied through image and text. It occurred to him now that Rolfe’s freedom from tutored learning and structured syllabi had been a gift in some ways; he’d had the benefit of hands-on experience.
Erryn felt his pulse quickening. Rolfe leaned closer, tilting his head up to bring his lips to meet Erryn’s, while his hands slid the belt off and dropped it to the floor with a quiet thud. Erryn busied his own hands with the buttons of his vest; there were few, thankfully, and he shrugged the vest off and tossed it to the side, and he was too distracted by Rolfe’s full lips on his to care if the vest landed on the tufted armchair or fell to the floor.
Rolfe disconnected from the kiss then, bending down. It left Erryn feeling hungry, but his feelings of trepidation had vanished completely, so he quickly continued to strip down, reaching back to grab his shirt and pull it up over his head. At the same time, Rolfe had pulled loose the strings of Erryn’s pants and swiftly yanked them down, and Erryn let out a small whoop of surprise as he was suddenly quite naked. Rolfe kneeled there before him, his sultry eyes drifting from Erryn’s awed face to the lengthy erection bobbing just in front of his mouth. He’s so close, Erryn thought. To my cock. Erryn could feel the hot breath from Rolfe’s parted lips, and it made him shiver.
Rolfe took hold of Erryn, a sturdy warm hand gripping the shaft of Erryn’s cock and making him inhale, then let out a heavy sigh. As Rolfe slowly moved his hand back, the pink head was revealed, and he became transfixed by the dewdrop nestled at the tip. His eyes drifting closed, he leaned forward, caressing it with his tongue, taking in the subtle flavor packed with pheromones. He wanted to drink Erryn in, to consume him completely, but the sharp moan from Erryn made him pause and look up. Erryn had leaned back against the foot of the bed. In one hand, he still held his shirt, wrinkling it as it bunched up in his clenched fist. His other hand seemed to hover next to Rolfe’s head, not quite sure what to do.
“Alright?” Rolfe asked him quietly.
Erryn exhaled in a disbelieving sort of laugh, giving one firm nod. “More than alright,” he replied. It was clear from his tone that he was finding the experience quite surreal. “This is-” But Rolfe, having all the confirmation he needed, did not wait for Erryn to finish his sentence. Instead, he wet his lips, ready to consume all that he desired. He took Erryn’s free hand and placed it on the back of his neck, offering him control. For the moment, Erryn was still, too amazed by the picture in front of him, of Rolfe—perfect Rolfe—kneeling there with his cock in his face, and feeling the heat emanating from the back of his neck.
So Rolfe moved forward gently, his wet lips taking in the head of Erryn’s cock, enveloping it slowly. A moan rose from within Erryn, from some impossible depth he hadn’t known existed. Rolfe took Erryn in further, and his mouth was deliciously warm and slick with saliva. He was so in control, so agonizingly deliberate, that every slight move forward sent another shudder coursing through Erryn’s body.
Then, just as Erryn felt the total completeness of being fully inside of Rolfe, touching the back of his throat, Rolfe pulled back, forming a tight seal and wringing him out. Erryn trembled and moaned, feeling almost as though he were being pulled inside out. His body wanted to collapse back onto the bed, but he didn’t want to lose the grasp he had on the back of Rolfe’s head. So instead, he gripped Rolfe tighter; his thumb rested by Rolfe’s ear, and he could feel Rolfe’s jaw flexing as he wriggled his tongue along the shaft of his cock.
A hot breath escaped from Rolfe’s nose, and the corners of his mouth seemed to fight a smile. He had noticed the shift in Erryn’s posture, the way he was now beginning to tug on Rolfe’s head, drawing him back down onto his cock and setting a new rhythm by flexing and unflexing his pelvis. Rolfe had been rock hard from the moment they had first kissed, but it was these subtler, subconscious displays of arousal from Erryn that really pushed Rolfe over the edge of desire.
His hands took on new life now, one stroking the base of Erryn’s cock, the other feeling all over Erryn’s body, taking in the sheer nakedness of him. It caressed his thigh, his hip, his abdominals and his navel. It wrapped around to his behind, feeling its round firmness and squeezing. Rolfe wanted to take it, to make it his.
But for now, Erryn was twitching, stiffening, making short, quick pumps into the back of Rolfe's throat, which squelched with saliva and the release of Erryn’s ejaculate. Erryn’s head tilted back as he moaned breathlessly. Rolfe took in all that Erryn’s cock had to offer, and when Rolfe finally pulled away, his mouth kept its tight seal as it slid down, keeping every drop of their fluid exchange for himself.
It would have made Erryn mortified for anyone else to hear the whimper that escaped him as Rolfe did this, the tingling sensation almost painful. Instead, he felt only passion and a sort of admiration as he lifted his head back up and then looked down at Rolfe, whose hungry eyes met his as he ran a forefinger across his bottom lip. Erryn desperately wanted to let Rolfe know what this meant to him. He finally let go of the shirt that had been clutched in his fist, and he took Rolfe’s chin in his hands, urging him back to his feet.
Rolfe stood, and Erryn kissed him once more. His mouth was perfect, Erryn thought. Warm and soft and salty and sweet. Erryn had never been so aroused before. He pressed himself against Rolfe, feeling the muscle beneath his shirt and the thick erection still trapped in his pants. Erryn tugged at Rolfe’s shirt, freeing it from the waist of his pants, and moved his hands underneath, feeling Rolfe’s stomach, which was taut from his work outdoors and slightly damp with the sweat of desire.
Rolfe was at Erryn’s ear, kissing his neck and breathing roughly as Erryn’s hands finally made their way to undo his pants. “I want to…” Erryn muttered, still bashful to speak these things out loud, “... to see your cock.”
A sudden knock at the door caused them both to jump, and reality came crashing down around them. Rolfe bent down again, grabbing Erryn’s pants and yanking them back up while Erryn grabbed his shirt and threw it on. He glanced around for his vest, but he didn’t immediately see where it had gone. He winced a bit as Rolfe tightened the strings and pulled the pants tight; he was feeling tender and quite exposed at the moment.
They walked toward the ornate door. Rolfe stood in the corner of the room, where he would be hidden, and began refastening his pants and tucking his shirt back in. Erryn ran a hand through his hair, feeling a strange sense of guilt and nervousness. No one will know, he told himself. It was normal, at this hour, for him to be in a state of half dress. It would take an eagle’s eye.
He opened the door, expecting a guard or a maid, someone he could excuse immediately, but his breath caught in his throat when he saw Lady Elena standing before him.
CH 5: CHARACTER
Elena stood in the hall, looking bashful; it was a great departure from the stoicism and poise she had displayed thus far. She glanced up at Erryn and found that he too seemed nervous. A lightness had appeared in her chest—perhaps this was the beginning of a breakthrough between them. “I’m sorry to intrude so late in the evening,” she said demurely. “I had great need to thank you for your gift.”
Erryn took a moment too long to respond. He was dumbfounded by her arrival, and at such an inopportune time. Flowers, he frantically recalled. Drake had said something earlier in the day about making such a delivery; he’d offered to request an arrangement from Dolly and have it delivered to Lady Elena’s room. Erryn had agreed without any serious thought—flowers were innocuous enough. How odd for them to have affected Elena so strongly that she would present herself to his room. “I’m pleased they were to your liking,” he offered, summoning a benevolent smile.
A sinking feeling suddenly overcame her. Was he speaking of the cuffs, or the flowers? His tone did not match the thoughtful effort of the cuffs, or indeed even the floral arrangement. And then there was the delay of his response, the way he seemed completely unprepared for her thanks. Elena’s eyes scanned him thoroughly. He was half-dressed, which by itself meant nothing at this time of night, but his clumsily tucked shirt and tousled hair suggested something salacious in nature. He looked flushed, warm.
“A-Are you…?” She wanted to ask if he was alone, but she was afraid to hear the answer. She felt like a fool. Yes, it would have been ideal if she and Erryn could learn to love each other, but it had always been a distinct possibility that their marriage arrangement would be nothing more than a political formality. Still, if he couldn’t wait more than a week to begin hiding escorts in his room, she would be disappointed.
Abruptly, Elena strode through the doorway, leaving Erryn sputtering in protest. To enter his room without permission was improper. It was unheard of. It was… it was too late. In her frustration, Elena ignored Erryn’s protest, stepping further into the room. Her eyes quickly swept the length of the room, searching for the prince’s paramour. When she turned around, she was startled to see the stablehand silently moving toward the open door. He halted midstep, and he and the prince exchanged worried glances.
Instead of making his exit, Rolfe quickly closed the bedroom door with a quiet click. Erryn looked at him appreciatively, then took a step closer to Lady Elena. He felt that he could barely breathe. “Please allow me to explain,” he said.
If Elena had harbored any doubt as to what these two had been doing, Erryn’s tone now illuminated everything. She shook her head. “I would rather not hear what you have to say,” she told him. “Rather, let's get to the heart of things: some day not too distant, we are to be married. Know that I expect your collaboration politically and your respect socially.”
“Of course,” Erryn managed. He hadn't imagined this assertive side to Lady Elena Helm; he was both perturbed and impressed. He looked with concern at Rolfe, whom he hadn't told about his impending betrothal. Rolfe had heard the rumblings amongst the staff and so was aware of the arrangement. He'd had no intention of bringing it up with Erryn any time soon, or running into the bride herself, much less in circumstances such as these.
Elena wore a dry smile. “I had envisioned a more traditional relationship,” she said, “but our interests are aligned, without regard for romance.” She was earnest in this. “I am your ally.”
“Swear it,” said Rolfe, drawing nearer.
Elena nearly scoffed in indignation. “Why else am I here but to be a partner?” She eyed Erryn, eager to be in step with him from here on out. “Ephtas is my home now. I will be nothing but an asset to my home and to my king.” She glanced at Rolfe. “I swear it.”
Erryn exhaled in great relief. He took Elena’s hands in his and looked at her gratefully. “How thankful I am that it was you who my father placed before me.”
His words were a tonic of satisfaction to her. “All I want,” she said quietly, “is to be valued.” She cleared her throat. “If this is going to continue,” she said, motioning between the two men, “I suggest you construct a reasonable pretext to be engaged at odd hours.” With that, she left the room, leaving the two men somewhat awestruck by her quick acceptance and candor.
“I’m sorry,” Rolfe said, placing a hand on the side of Erryn’s head, fingers brushing soft hair. “This is my doing, appearing unannounced at the manor door.”
Erryn took Rolfe's hand and kissed it. “I’ll not hear it,” he said. Erryn’s hands trembled with nerves and excitement. To be found out was disconcerting, but he found that it was also freeing. “I worry I find myself at Lady Helm’s mercy, but cautious optimism tells me that to trust in her would be judicious.” He looked at Rolfe, wishing that they needn't part for the night. “I daresay your presence is enough to bolster me through such uncertainty.”
In a separate wing of Ephtas Manor, King Merit wrestled with his own cloud of uncertainty. He sat in his office, working by the light of the fireplace. On his desk was an inventory of Touched living within the borders of his kingdom. These were those living quiet, hidden lives. They weren't officially documented, but Merit kept a list of suspected and confirmed Touched nonetheless. Their existence was illegal, but he could hardly fault them for being born. So long as they kept their heads down, he would leave them to themselves.
The issue arose when they made themselves known. Occasionally, one of them would proclaim their right to a noble household, which inevitably led to political upset. More than that, any perceived excess of Touched would undermine their rarity and dilute their prestige. Merit did not at all believe the Touched to be superior to the common blood, but he acknowledged the political stability provided by long-lived monarchy. And then there was the matter of tradition and honor; he was part of a system of governments far bigger than himself or even his own kingdom.
By rule of law, the individuals on the list in King Merit's hands ought to be gotten rid of, quietly disappeared in the dead of night. But Merit was a man of conscience. Even when his actions seemed cruel or unfair, he always ruled from a place of virtuous intent. It was why he took no pleasure in drafting the order of execution for one of these Touched. This individual had worked on the docks in Sundry and had been a source of fish for the manor’s cook. They had been gathering information on the Ephtas Estate with the intent of reporting back to their blood relations and gaining a place within their household.
Merit did not know if the nobles related to this person were aware of them or had any part of this scheme. As happenstance would have it, these were the Tropins, a family of nobles who lived near Jadewick and the Helms. It was no indictment of Lady Helm's family, though surely they would have attended social gatherings together. No, such a plot demands secrecy.
Still, when morning came and Merit took an early cup of coffee in the east parlor, then was surprised to see Elena enter the room, he was curious to hear her thoughts on the matter. Elena entered the parlor distractedly, not expecting another occupant. She had begun to dress in more comfortable linens now that first impressions were done with. An observant eye could see that she'd had a restless sleep, but Merit found her fresh-faced and endearingly serious while deep in thought. She had nearly reached the lounge seat when she noticed the king enjoying his coffee and watching the birds through the window.
“Oh!” she said with a small gasp and a curtsy. “Forgive me.” She readied to leave the room. “I won’t intrude upon your morning.”
The king chuckled. “Please,” he said, standing politely and gesturing for her to take a seat. “I welcome the company.” He turned to the serving cart beside him and poured coffee for Elena. She took her seat, watching Merit as he prepared her drink. She found it unbelievable that the powerful and respected King of Ephtas should be serving his own coffee, much less serving her. It was an honor, but Merit seemed unaware of this. His humble self reliance was admirable and attractive; it was one reason that his family was held in such esteem by his subjects.
“Thank you,” she said bashfully as she accepted the cup from his hands.
“I hope your night was restful,” Merit said, sitting next to her and taking hold of his own drink once more. Elena only gave him a small smile, and so he did not inquire further. “I wonder if I might ask your opinion,” he ventured, pausing to take an indulgent drink. “Are you aware that there exists an unregistered population of Touched? Illicit manifestations of noble affairs?”
Elena frowned, considering this, her cup resting in her lap. “I admit this is a fresh concept to me,” she told him, “but I find it to be quite believable.”
He nodded appreciatively. “Custom has them discreetly removed.”
“Removed,” she echoed. It was a harsh reality to acknowledge, but she believed she understood. Still, Elena was of common blood, and it was hard to accept that the Touched were more common than they let on.
Merit waited for her response, but she only listened diplomatically, allowing him to get to the point. “It is my belief that until such an individual gives us cause to intervene, they should be allowed a life of solitude.” Elena was taken in by his benevolence. “That said, the opportunity for treachery does occasionally yield unwelcome results.” He paused, watching the birds of morning fluttering between the trees of the east lawn. “Espionage, for instance.”
Elena exhaled slowly, rippling the coffee in her cup. “Then there is no room for error,” she decided. She met his eyes, and he found himself adrift at sea in her gaze. “Such a person would pose too great a danger.”
The king eyed her thoughtfully, surprised at her quick assessment and candid response. Her immediate understanding of the stakes involved impressed him. “I understand you know the Tropins from your family's social events,” broached Merit.
Elena’s head tilted to one side. “Yes,” she answered, curious. “I've met them many times.” Mr. and Mrs. Tropin were relatively young nobles with a child younger than Elena. She found the family to be particularly stuffy and ill-humored.
“Mr. Tropin has a brother,” said Merit. “He lives in the nearby town of Sundry. For some time he has gathered information on Ephtas with the intent to relay this back to Mr. Tropin and formally join the ranks of his house.”
“It mustn't stand,” Elena said firmly. Her familiarity with the Tropins made no difference to her. “I trust this matter is already in your hands, my king?”
Merit brought a hand to his lips, looking thoughtful, though in actuality he suppressed a look of amusement. He had believed that Elena would show good judgment, but he had not expected her to be so forthcoming. It was reassuring to know that she held strong convictions and would be of benefit in handling state affairs. “Rest easy, my lady,” said Merit with a smile. “I only wondered your point of view.”
Elena looked down at the cup in her hands, flustered. Does he really care what I think? She said nothing, only took another drink. When she glanced back at the king, he was staring through the window again, content to observe the early morning in silence. “Ah,” he remembered. “Speaking of social events, we will be hosting the summer gala next week.”
“I’ve heard tale of these galas,” Elena said, her mood lightening as she graced Merit with a smile. The summer gala was a public event, held for the common folk rather than guests of nobility. “I am eager to see this interaction between the Ephtas family and those you serve.”
At this, Merit could not subdue his smile. Most nobles found his views backward and strange, insisting himself to be a servant of the people, and not the other way around. But he felt no sense of irony or placation in Elena’s words. More and more, he felt that she had exceeded all expectations he’d had of her. “I daresay you’ll be the talk of the event,” he ventured.
“Surely not,” she said with a modest blush.
Merit cleared his throat. “I thought perhaps the cuffs would be suitable for the occasion.” When Elena’s lips parted in a stunned expression, Merit felt an uncharacteristic surge of uncertainty. When he had ordered the ear cuffs, he’d done so because he had sympathized with her desire to belong to this family, and to the Touched, but now he wondered if he had misread her. “I hope I’ve not offended you,” he said with a troubled frown. “They were meant only as a gesture of acceptance and welcome, but I see now that they may have been received as an unwelcome remark.”
“Th-that isn’t…” Elena attempted, utterly flustered.
King Merit felt sure that he had insulted her. “I hope you don’t feel as though you must be augmented or embellished to meet some higher standard.” He looked at her, the picture of strength and regality, and he was stirred by her beauty and her character.
Elena was not at all offended; on the contrary, she was moved beyond words. At the same time, she felt stripped bare by the king’s intuition. Was she really so obvious? It was terribly embarrassing. “You are far from insult,” she told him. “You honor me, truly.”
She stood, clearing her throat a little. The king stood too, taking her cup and placing it down on the serving cart. He then placed his hands behind his back, smiling politely. “Thank you for the company,” he said. With a painted smile and a small curtsy, Elena excused herself from the room.
CH 6: INVITATIONS
Prince Drake walked into his father's office wearing the casual, charming smile he had perfected. He wanted to be in Merit’s good graces before the summer gala arrived; when it did, Drake would need to hover near Dolly all evening, and he didn’t want the king to be paying attention to him the way he usually did, when Drake exhibited more scandalous behavior. But as Drake entered Merit’s office, the king was nowhere to be found. Prince Drake frowned, walking absently toward the heavy wooden desk.
The king often worked odd hours, and Drake had been sure he could find him here and greet him before breakfast, then walk with him to the dining room. He ran a hand through his hair. Oh well, he thought with a sigh. The folded paper atop the desk fluttered as he exhaled. Without much interest, Drake took one glance at it, then another. It was an order of execution, to be done discreetly. A most unusual decree. Prince Drake took hold of the paper, reading it thoroughly, and the color began to drain from his face.
Illegitimate heirs were an open secret amongst the Touched, but King Merit had never gone through with their execution before now, at least not to Drake’s knowledge. He’d been confident that within the borders of Ephtas, these people had been allowed to live their lives. It was why he had felt secure enough to bring Dolly back to the estate. He knew they must keep her identity a secret from the world at large, but he had trusted that if she were found out, she would at least be safe from persecution.
“What a fool I am,” Drake uttered, dropping the paper back on the desk and striding from the room.
When he entered the dining room for breakfast, the others had already gathered. After Prince Drake sat and the meal was underway, Curtis began to notice an odd sort of tension lingering beneath the surface of the morning’s pleasantries. He couldn’t know of Erryn’s fear and excitement having to do with Lady Elena and the stablehand, or Drake’s concern for the florist in proximity to the king, or Lady Elena’s befuddlement with Erryn and confusing feelings toward King Merit, or indeed, the feelings stirring within Merit’s own chest that he was hesitant to contend with.
“I’ve decided to bring on an attendant,” Erryn announced during a lull in the conversation. His tone was informational, not an invitation for further discussion, but the others were curious; the Ephtas men did not keep personal attendants.
“Is that so?” Merit asked politely.
“What need have you for an attendant?” Drake questioned.
“It was my idea, really,” Lady Elena spoke up. She looked somewhat bashful. “Only I know that Prince Erryn keeps himself very busy with his responsibilities, and now that I have divided his time and attention, it seems worthwhile to bring help on.” She took a sip of her water. Erryn smiled appreciatively.
Merit leaned a little toward Elena. “Does this mean you’ve reconsidered having a lady’s maid?” he asked her.
“Not at present,” she said with a small chuckle. “I shall be sure to keep you informed.”
“Have you someone in mind?” Curtis asked Erryn.
“Actually I have,” Erryn replied. “A man called Rolfe.”
Drake let out a surprised sort of scoff. Curtis furrowed his brow and stroked his beard. “You don’t mean the stablehand?” he said. Curtis was aware of everyone on staff, though he was not overly knowledgeable about Rolfe himself.
“What’s this?” Merit asked. Erryn resisted the urge to sigh in irritation. He’d hoped to avoid any questions.
“Dear brother’s savior,” Drake chimed in. He looked at Erryn. “It was most wonderful of him to save your life, but do you really think such a position would be suited to him?”
“Did he really?” Merit said in surprise, setting his glass on the table with a quiet thud.
“I say,” Curtis exclaimed quietly.
At this, Erryn was obliged to recount the story of that first outing with Rolfe. “If he should be willing to leave his work with the horses,” Erryn said after he had finished, “then I should be glad to have him as my right hand.”
“I think it’s a fine idea,” Curtis said with a nod.
“Hm,” said Merit, glancing speculatively between Elena and his eldest son.
Erryn was eager to begin this new arrangement. At midday, he walked to the stables and rang the bell. Mr. Pelton answered, coming to the open door and giving a mustachioed grin when he saw the prince. “There he is!” he said, stepping outside and clapping Erryn on the back. “Heard you took quite a tumble.”
“How humbling,” Erryn remarked. Inside, he watched Rolfe emerge from one of the stalls and close it; he leaned on the door and crossed his arms, grinning at Erryn playfully. Erryn cleared his throat and addressed Mr. Pelton. “I wonder if I might have a word with Rolfe?”
“Oh, what a treat,” Pelton huffed. He cocked his head back. “Rolfe!”
“I’m here,” Rolfe called, walking over. As he exited the stables, he seemed to glow golden in the sunlight, and Erryn wanted very much to embrace him. Instead, he put his hands behind his back and smiled considerately. He waited for Mr. Pelton to walk away and give them privacy, but he did no such thing, only looked at them expectantly. “You wanted me?” Rolfe said.
Erryn’s nostrils flared. He knows exactly what he’s doing. “I came to proposition you,” Erryn said, and Rolfe matched his expression. “I’d like you to come to the house. To work for me.”
“You what!” Pelton said. “How?”
Erryn felt sheepish. “I’m rather sorry to snatch him away,” he told Pelton, “but I’ve a mind to install my own right hand, and what better man than one who would save my life?” He met Rolfe’s eyes, his stunned look, and willed him to agree. “That is,” he added, “only if you’d like. I don’t diminish the work you do here.”
A burst of laughter escaped from Rolfe. It seemed a foolish plan in some aspects, putting himself in the lion’s den, surrounded by the family of Touched, but to be Erryn’s right hand gave him reason to always be by his side, and that provided safety from discovery. More than that, the idea of such unrestricted access to Erryn was intoxicating. And Erryn wanted it too—that was the best realization of all. “When would I begin?”
“As soon as possible,” Erryn answered, the excitement building within him. Rolfe grinned.
Mr. Pelton scoffed. “Leave me in the lurch, why don’t you?” He sighed heavily. “He’ll finish today’s work and go to the manor tomorrow morning. I'll get by with the younger boys until I can find a proper replacement for Rolfe here.” He looked between Rolfe and Erryn, unsure how Rolfe was suited to serve within the manor. He only shook his head. “Far be it from me to stand in the way of your coming up in the world,” he told Rolfe.
“Good man,” Rolfe replied, clapping Pelton’s back in much the same way he had done to Erryn.
“Well,” Erryn said, unable to keep the smile from his face. “I’ll be off, and I shall see you tomorrow.”
The afternoon spread out before him and time seemed to slow to a crawl as Erryn waited with anticipation. He tried to think of what work Rolfe might do in the manor; he would need some proper responsibilities. Erryn envisioned him keeping his schedule, accompanying him in meetings and on the hunt, and helping with day to day organization and dressing. It’s the undressing I’m more interested in.
When the morning arrived, Rolfe walked to the manor with an unconscious spring in his step. He didn’t know what work might await him here, but he was a quick study and eager to please. A guard opened the door and greeted him, then led him to a small office where Curtis was working. “Good morning to you,” Curtis said, standing from his desk and crossing toward Rolfe.
“And to you,” Rolfe replied, excitement simmering beneath the surface. Curtis was pleased to bring on a well-tempered, eager member of staff. He gestured toward the door.
“Walk with me.”
Curtis showed Rolfe through the halls, toward the back of the manor, where the staff offices and quarters were kept. Rolfe would stay in the manor, and there were so few live-in servants that he would enjoy a room to himself. He met much of the staff, and they seemed cheerful and humble. Maude, a maid with auburn plaits and downturned eyes, gave only a brief introduction before hurrying along to perform her duties.
Maude had prepared a tea tray to bring to Lady Helm. She was not yet familiar with Lady Elena’s tastes, so she brought a set of small silver canisters containing a variety of tea leaves. She had also met with Dolly in the gardens and asked her to clip a few flowers; three pink roses now blossomed out of an extra teacup on the tray. It was impractical, but Maude believed in the power of presentation.
When Elena opened the door, Maude met her with a polite smile. “Good day, my lady,” she said with a curtsey. “My name is Maude. I wondered if you might like some tea.”
“How kind!” Elena replied. She stood back, holding the door wide. “Please, come in.”
“Yes, my lady,” said Maude. She carried the tray inside, over to the tea table. The room was neatly kept, she noticed. As perfect in presentation as Prince Erryn. Elena followed Maude to the table, observing the subtlety of her movements. Maude cast an absent glance about the room, a small, contented smile on her face. She carried the tray, set it down, and arranged it with practiced service. Elena sat in one of the velvet chairs, placing her hands on her lap as Maude straightened the tea set for one moment too long.
Maude then straightened herself with a small smile. “Is there anything else I can do for you, my lady?”
“I’m managing quite well,” Elena replied. She eyed the tray, the artful arrangement of it. The selection of teas, the inclusion of roses. “This is lovely,” she offered.
“I hadn’t known your preference,” Maude admitted with a faint chuckle, nodding toward the silver canisters. She seemed to wait for Elena’s reply.
“Lemon and ginger,” she answered succinctly.
Maude waited a moment longer. “I’ll be off, then,” she said. “Do call if you need anything.”
“Thank you, Maude,” Elena said as Maude crossed the room and exited. Elena steeped herself in thought as she prepared herself a cup of tea. She looked at the roses in the other teacup. The stems had been cut impractically short in order for them to fit. It would have been wiser to bring along a vase of flowers rather than prepare them this way; they would be wilting by nightfall.
When Maude had first appeared at her door, Lady Elena had wondered if this was an inquiry as to whether she had found need for a lady’s maid. Then something about Maude’s behavior had put her on guard. Perhaps it was just the familiarity with which the Ephtas men and their staff interacted, but Elena had not expected to be called upon without request, and she had noticed the way Maude’s gaze had swept the room. To be sure I was doing well on my own, Elena surmised. And then there were the roses. If the maid had wished to bring her flowers, why had they not come in a vase? To use them for such a fleeting purpose as teatime tray embellishment would have been perfectly normal in any other royal household, but this was Ephtas—such frivolousness had long-since been discarded. She may have thought them a sweet gesture, but she knew now that these would not be any sort of courting gesture from Prince Erryn. To Elena, the extra teacup, along with the extra canisters of tea, seemed an invitation from Maude herself: will Lady Helm graciously share her tea?
Of course, she may have been reading into it all too thoroughly, but Elena had been left with the distinct impression that Maude had been hoping to gain some sort of information from her. She had seen Maude once or twice about the manor in passing, and she had seen her leaving Prince Drake’s room. Prince Drake, she had learned, had a reputation as the Patron Prince, and it seemed that Maude was one of his chosen mistresses. As Elena sipped her tea, she wondered if there was any truth to her suspicions about Maude. And if so, was Prince Drake attempting to keep an eye on her? Or might the prince be the unwitting subject of a voyeuristic maid?
CH 7: ORCHID
At dinnertime, the king entered the dining room to find that Erryn’s new hire had gathered there with the others. The young man stood speaking with Erryn and Elena, his hands held behind his back. Curtis and Prince Drake were engaged in conversation of their own, but all conversation quieted as King Merit entered. Rolfe bowed the way Mr. Pelton had instructed him to.
“Father,” Erryn said, “allow me to introduce Rolfe, my rescuer.”
Merit took Rolfe by surprise by extending a hand. “We owe you a debt of gratitude,” he said.
Rolfe swallowed, taking the king’s hand and shaking it. You must behave appropriately, he told himself. You mustn’t make a fool of yourself. The king only smiled graciously. “I believe it to be the honor of my life, sir.”
A laugh escaped Merit. He sensed how earnestly Rolfe believed in his words and in his purpose here. It brought Merit great satisfaction and pride. “Please,” he said, gesturing toward the table and requesting everyone sit. As Elena had been, Rolfe too had been surprised to learn that certain staff ate with the royal family. He hadn’t expected to be so immediately enfolded in Erryn’s life, but he had no objections. He took his seat next to Erryn, across from Prince Drake.
Curtis sat at the end of the table, across from the king, as the bell signaled the official start of dinner. “Now that you’re here,” he said to Rolfe, pouring himself a glass of water, “perhaps you could regale us with the tale of your heroic rescue.”
“Surely not again?” Erryn protested. He found it rather embarrassing and saw no reason to belabor the point.
“Not ‘again’ from my view,” Rolfe retorted goodnaturedly. The door opened and dinner was carried in by Seraphine and the cook. “Thank you,” Rolfe said as his tray was placed before him.
“Go on, then,” Drake encouraged Rolfe, amused at Erryn’s annoyance. Seraphine placed his food in front of him and he gave her a wink.
Erryn gave Drake a look of brotherly irritation. “You merely enjoy to hear of my helplessness.”
Drake grinned playfully back. “Oh look,” he said, eyeing the gamey bird on the plate in front of him, then Erryn once more. “Grouse.”
A smile had spread across Rolfe’s face. He had begun to feel more comfortable and felt inclined to share this story with the family. Seraphine and the cook had poured everyone a glass of wine and now left the room. “Picture it,” Rolfe began, to the amusement and chagrin of Prince Erryn. “The prince had been cast from the safety of the trail, endangered by steep terrain and caught precariously over craggy peril.” The room could not help but chortle at this, taken in by Rolfe’s retelling.
“Erryn did maintain this to be quite a feat of strength,” Drake offered jovially.
“How flattering,” Rolfe grinned impishly. Elena watched as Erryn’s pointed ears took on a pinkish blush. Rolfe leaned forward toward Drake. “The root which had interrupted Erryn’s descent was indeed a far reach,” he affirmed. “Some arm’s length away.” At this, he moved his arm forward in illustration, knocking his wine glass forward with enough force to douse Prince Drake. “Shit,” Rolfe muttered. “Ah,” he corrected himself, fearing failure on every front. As Erryn and Curtis snickered, Rolfe abruptly rose from his chair, grabbing the cloth napkin before him and walking toward Prince Drake’s side of the table. “Forgive me,” Rolfe implored, his face colored with mortification.
Drake had stared blankly in surprise after the wine had been thrown, but now he broke into boisterous laughter. Rolfe pressed the cloth to Prince Drake’s sleeve, taking up some of the wine and tinging the napkin red. “Away, man,” Drake laughed. “All is well.” He pressed Rolfe’s hand away, assuring him that no harm had been done. Rolfe was relieved, and now he too allowed himself a small laugh.
“Even so, allow me to dry your station,” Rolfe said.
“You needn’t trouble yourself,” Drake replied. He glanced down at his soiled clothes. “I’ll step out and quickly change; I’ll have a maid see to the wine.” He gestured to the spill. “Please excuse me. I’ll be back in a moment.” Drake exited the room.
Still, Rolfe felt obliged to do what he could. Quickly he mopped around the prince’s plate then dropped to dab at the floor. Erryn and the others offered him reassurances, but Rolfe made hurried movements to complete this precursory cleaning before standing and hastening back to his place at the other side of the table. As he took his seat, a maid entered the room with a rag and a container of cleaning solution. It was Maude, and she greeted the room politely before beginning her task. Erryn resisted the urge to pat Rolfe’s arm. “Don't fret,” he said quietly. Rolfe cast him a quick, embarrassed smile.
“What's this?” Curtis asked, gesturing toward Rolfe. When Rolfe had bent below the table, his pendant had slipped from beneath his undershirt and was now partially visible by his collar. Rolfe put his hand to his neck, feeling the fire opal and flaring his nostrils; he had planned to keep his trinket as backup should he ever need it, relying on the shield of Erryn’s ancient blood for now.
“Ah,” he said, taking hold of the pendant and presenting it as though he had nothing to hide. “A family keepsake. It holds a blessing which I'm told feels familiar to the Touched.”
“How intriguing,” said Merit.
“You don't say,” added Curtis, his tone sounding unconvinced.
“I can attest to its pull,” Erryn professed. “I had noticed it at once.”
Curtis only frowned. “I've never heard of such an item.”
“Oh yes,” Lady Helm said with interest. “My father saw several pass through Jadewick. The strength of these blessings may vary greatly, but those trained in the gem trade have an eye for such pieces.” She smiled at Rolfe. “How lucky you are.”
Rolfe only smiled back and tucked the pendant away. As Maude left the room, Prince Drake returned wearing a fresh set of clothes. “Right,” he declared. “I'm famished.”
By the time the meal had concluded, Drake was ready to do away with these clothes as well; he had overeaten, and to remove his belt and sink into a bedfull of cushions would be the cure. Walking into his bedroom, Drake’s eyes immediately fell upon the purple-and-white orchid standing prominently in today’s floral arrangement. Dolly would be coming to call. “Have you already arrived?” he called into the room. He glanced at the eastern window, where Dolly would make her entrance. The curtains were drawn closed.
“I have.” Her voice came from behind the folding screen in the corner. She walked into view and gave him a playful look. “What misfortune happened here?” she asked, taking hold of the wine-stained shirt Drake had discarded overtop of the screen earlier in the evening.
“Erryn’s new man,” Drake answered, a chuckle escaping him. “A funny fellow.”
Dolly smiled. “Then I shall look forward to meeting him,” she replied.
Drake crossed the room to her and embraced her. “My dear,” he said. “My everything.” He bent his head and kissed her just beneath her ear. It warmed her skin and set her heart aflutter, but his tone had caught her attention.
“Is anything the matter?” she asked him, pulling away and looking up at him with large doe eyes.
Drake had not told her about the order of execution he had found on his father’s desk. He needn’t worry her. She was safe; he would make sure of that. He moved his hand to brush her hair back, curving it around her pointed ear. “Nothing could be amiss when you are here,” he told her. Dolly blushed. She kissed him, wishing that they could be together always. She found it a shame that no one else could see this side of the prince, the tender care he showed her. She pressed herself against him, and all Drake’s thoughts were consumed with desire. He allowed her to undress him—clothes tossed carelessly aside—but within these four walls, Drake was only a servant, and Dolly his humble queen.
His hands slid to the back of her thighs and he picked her up, carrying her to the large bed. Dolly liked when he applied pressure; she liked to feel his weight on top of her as they kissed passionately on the bed. She liked a firm hand when he groped her breasts through the linen of her dress. Drake knew this, and he did as she pleased. He kissed down her throat and to her collarbone, hearing her breathy sighs and small whimpers. He trailed a hand down to the skirt of her dress. He glanced up at her, and she gave a small nod, her eyes partially closed. Drake pushed himself back down the bed, bringing Dolly’s skirt up over his head as she giggled.
He was met with the silken drawers he had gifted her, an unadorned pale lavender set scant in fabric but comfortable to wear. He grinned to himself, leaning forward and kissing them fondly. “Ahh,” Dolly moaned quietly. Drake admired nothing more than the beauty of Dolly’s womanhood, but he would leave her covered for now. His tongue caressed her, the soft fabric between them providing the smallest amount of friction. Dolly felt herself melting into him. His mouth was soft and warm. This sort of thing had intimidated her in the beginning. She was still somewhat sex-shy—she needed him hidden under her skirts in order to be this vulnerable. She still found blatant sex talk quite difficult and referred to this part of herself as her orchid—something Drake had initially found silly but had come to accept and was now quite gentle about. It may have been silly, but it helped Dolly to overcome her shyness and enjoy a fuller, happier connection with him. Drake had come to learn much about orchids—their ideal conditions, their floriography, and the individual parts of each flower. With a practiced tongue, he now caressed the stigma beneath its cap.
Dolly’s hands found their way to Drake’s dark hair, combing through it and caressing him as he lapped at her like a thirsty animal. He loved it when she did this; it was a passionate gesture that held such sweetness. She didn’t mind his tousled hair or his untidy room or his lax manner. With Dolly, Drake was allowed to be himself, without the quiet disapproval he was often sensitive to. Her soft hands on the sides of his head, she prompted him back up toward her. His mouth found hers and they shared a lingering kiss.
“I love you,” he told her, causing her heart to flutter. It was the first time he had said the words themselves.
She gazed into his hazel eyes. “I know it in my soul,” she assured him. Her hands still rested on the sides of his face. “Allow me to accept your love, and in return you shall have my heart in equal measure.” She embraced him, wrapping her arms and legs around him. Drake pulsed his hips, his erection rubbing against her, and she sighed into his ear. He breathed in the scent of her hair, which carried with it the floral aroma of her day’s work. “I am yours.”
With a deft hand, Drake pulled the silken drawers aside. Slowly, deliberately, he guided himself into place and felt his heart quicken as he began to push inside. Dolly flushed too, moaning softly as he moved back and forth. He felt a sense of completeness that began in his core and seemed to spread through his limbs. The silk, pulled taut around him, created a further kind of snug sensation that he found particular and exciting. They continued in a breathy sort of silence punctuated by exchanges of moans and sweet nothings.
Chuckling happily, Drake then grabbed hold of Dolly and rolled with her so that she sat atop him with her hands placed on his naked chest for balance. He raised the hem of her dress, and she took hold of it with crossed arms, pulling it overhead and throwing it aside without a care. So too did she remove her chemise, bare now from head to waist. She returned her hands to his chest and began to gyrate her hips; a deep connection had taken root, wherein the two of them had become one and now edged toward climax together. Drake looked down to observe Dolly’s movements. He placed his left hand on her hip and his right against her pelvis, resting his thumb over the wetness of her drawers and rubbing in a circular motion.
“Oh,” she moaned, her eyelids fluttering. “Persist and I shall come undone.” This was the ultimate excitement for Drake. To please Dolly was to please himself. He continued this steady rhythm, and he watched as her body stiffened and her breasts began to heave. She brought a hand to her mouth, suppressing the sounds of joyous zenith, breathing heavily through her nose. As she began to twitch around him, each convulsion of her muscles reverberated through him and cleared his mind of all thought. He took hold of both hips now, pulling her down onto him as deep as he could go. Tilting his head back and closing his eyes, his breath stopped short as he was met with sweet release. With a shuddering exhale, he felt warmth and relaxation spreading through his body.
He looked back up at her with a grin, and she removed the hand from her mouth, returning his look with a chuckle. He sat up, putting his arms around her and turning them again, placing her on the mattress and covering her with kisses.
CH 8: RECOGNITION
It was early in the day, and Elena had gone for a walk. She happened upon Erryn in the halls, speaking with Anther, the head gardener, and gesturing toward the open doors of the ballroom. He seemed to be coordinating preparations for the summer gala. “I’d envisioned an arch,” he said. “Just there.” With a few more exchanged words, Anther was dismissed, and Erryn turned to find Elena approaching him. She had prepared a polite smile, but she had not expected the sincerity of his reaction when he noticed her. “Oh!” he said, a pleased smile crossing his face. “Are you in the midst of something?”
“Not at all,” she replied amicably. “Only a stroll.”
“Would you care to join me?” Erryn asked. “I’ve a day of planning ahead, and I’d hazard you’ve a discerning eye.”
“You would?” she practically chuckled in surprise. “Given Ephtas’ proclivity for disembellishment, I fear my decorative instincts may be ill-suited to the task.”
Erryn crossed his arms in thoughtful amusement. “You needn’t worry about such things,” he assured her. He glanced into the ballroom once more. A few servants had been tasked with rearranging tables and chairs and so the room held a low hum of activity. “Anyway,” he went on, looking back at her, “it is of little concern; I’d envisioned a day spent together.” Rolfe now appeared at the far end of the hallway, walking hurriedly over.
“We three?” Elena asked, arching one shapely brow.
The prince looked a touch sheepish. “Indeed,” he said. “I wish to express my gratitude for your continued assistance; your support at dinner did shield Rolfe from the insistent Curtis.”
Elena gave a small smile. “My word is bond,” she replied almost coyly. She knew not the history of Rolfe’s pendant, but she had been ready to support the men regardless.
“I have ceased all doubts,” Erryn said with a nod. He smiled at her once more, then looked to Rolfe, who had reached them now, and Elena watched as his smile became softer and more loving. “What hurries you so?” he asked Rolfe.
Rolfe quickly glanced between the two of them, then spoke with a hushed voice. “My pendant is misplaced.”
“How could that be?” Erryn asked. “You wore it only last night.”
“Removed for sleep,” explained Rolfe. “And vanished from my bedside overnight.”
“Had no one entered your quarters?” Elena prompted, casting a quick glance at Erryn, who only laughed and shook his head, somewhat scandalized.
“I think not,” Rolfe replied, “though I admit I fell into a heavy sleep; many of the staff kept a late night, welcoming me into the fold and drinking in camaraderie.”
“Was Maude in attendance?” asked Elena.
“Oh yes. She lamented that you’ve no desire for a lady’s maid.” Rolfe grinned, teasing, but the worry over his missing pendant was too pressing to keep the smile on his face. He gave Erryn a nod. “Right. I’ll need to keep looking for it. I’ll join you later.”
“Of course,” Erryn agreed. He watched Rolfe’s departure, and Elena watched him. He was troubled, his lips pressed together in consternation.
Elena considered her words. She looked to be sure that no one else was close enough to hear. “I believe you should question Maude.”
Erryn’s brows were raised. “Whatever for?”
“The whereabouts of Rolfe’s property, of course.” There was no hint of jest on her face, but Erryn found this preposterous. Nevertheless, she persisted. “Who else but Maude had seen this item? Her presence in the dining room during its explanation gave ample reason-”
“Elena,” Erryn said, and something in his tone made her pause. “I’m certain Rolfe will find his pendant expeditiously. To leap to any other conclusion would be cursory.” His words were not accusatory, merely friendly advice.
She exhaled, maintaining a neutral expression, though truthfully she was vexed. “Of course,” she replied. She felt certain that Maude had exhibited suspicious behavior, but she was also confident that she would not be able to convey this effectively to Erryn. Instead, she decided to push any concerns aside for now. “Well then,” she said, sighing into a smile. “How shall we prepare for the gala?”
As Elena and Erryn got to work, Rolfe returned to his room and looked again for his pendant. He spent ages looking beneath every surface, under his mattress, and in each drawer. Once he was certain it had left the room, he began to doubt the memory of removing it at bedtime. He’d been rather drunk; perhaps the cord had somehow come undone earlier in the night. He wandered through the kitchen, then the servants’ dining hall, stopping to chat with Seraphine and a few others. He was not overly familiar with the inside of the manor yet, and his search was slow and ineffective.
It was well into the afternoon when he decided to look outside. He seemed to recall stepping out onto the west lawn to relieve himself shortly after midnight. It was a somewhat embarrassing recollection—he needed to better rein in these compulsive behaviors. He stepped outside distractedly, rounding the corner of the exit and nearly tripping over Dolly, who was weeding a bed of flowers. As he stumbled forward, managing not to fall, Dolly quickly stood and reached out her gloved hands as if to help.
“Heavens, are you alright?” she asked.
“Forgive me,” Rolfe said, straightening and turning. As the two came face to face, each seemed to stop in place. They did not yet know each other, but they each felt a spark of recognition. This was the florist who often hovered near Prince Drake’s room. This was Prince Erryn’s new right hand.
By now, Erryn and Elena had finished their work for the day. Erryn had gone back to his room, waiting for Rolfe to come calling. Elena had resumed her walk through the manor, strolling through the inner halls and admiring the paintings on display. Many were landscapes reminiscent of the scenery in Ephtas. It made her appreciate the rolling hills and flowering forests here, compared to the relatively flat fields and engineered land use back in Jadewick.
When she’d reached the east side of the manor, Elena had decided to sit in the parlor with a book to read. She was working through her History of Ephtas for the second time; she found that when studying dense material, it was helpful to learn each piece in order as the book prescribed, then reread the text with a more thorough understanding for further analysis. After a brief stop to take the book from her room, she walked toward the east parlor with a sense of purpose.
She slowed as she neared the office of the king; the door was open, and she glanced inside. King Merit was there sitting at his desk. Curtis stood next to him, pointing at a document on the desk and gesturing along it. As they spoke of its contents, they caught sight of Lady Elena. Curtis gave her a friendly nod, then turned to cough into the crook of his elbow. Merit raised his hand in a casual wave and smiled. She smiled warmly back, performing a small curtsey and continuing on her way without interrupting. She wondered what they might be working on.
In the parlor, she settled onto the lounge seat, bringing her legs up and lounging across the tufted cushion. She opened her book to where it had been marked by the attached ribbon. This was the section regarding King Merit’s early reign. She read of the great fire that had laid destruction upon Sundry. It was said to have been caused by foreign dragons, and it was then that King Wesley had traded his life for theirs. Merit had been crowned, and he had used the stones of Ephtas Castle to rebuild Sundry. From then on, the royal family would reside in this estate. How noble, Elena admired. It was the king’s reputation that had persuaded her to come here without fear or hesitation. She flipped forward through the pages, finding the old portrait of Merit and absently running her finger along the edge.
“I must know,” came Merit’s voice from the doorway, “what brought about that subtle smile.” Elena hadn’t realized a smile had been on her face, and now she blushed as she clapped the book shut and sat up properly.
“Pay me no mind,” she said. As she brushed a lock of deep black hair behind a dainty ear, he found he could not heed her words. In his hands he held a silver tray carrying a simple white ceramic tea set. Elena seemed surprised.
“I wondered if I might take my break with you here,” Merit said.
“Of course,” Elena nodded. “You honor me.” Merit only chuckled at that, entering the parlor and setting the tray on the serving cart. “I must say, I am as yet unaccustomed to being served by your hand,” she told him.
“Nonsense,” he countered, preparing her tea as he had done with coffee. She took it from him gratefully, breathing in the scent as the warm vapor swirled over her teacup. There was only one tea canister on the tray—lemon and ginger. He prepared his own drink and took his seat, looking out over the east lawn. Elena seemed to be waiting for him to speak. “I hear you aided Erryn with gala preparations today,” he remarked.
“I did,” she replied. “It was a useful lesson on the customs of your special occasions.” She took a contented sip of her tea.
The king chuckled. “How studious you are.”
“Oh yes,” she replied, and the seriousness of her tone forced Merit to suppress a smile. “I aim to learn all there is to know about Ephtas. In fact,” she said, leaning over and grabbing her book once more, “perhaps you could answer some questions about the Bandy Accord? Or the tenants of Illamette?” Merit laughed goodnaturedly, and Elena seemed to remember herself. “Of course,” she said, fighting to keep from feeling flustered, “I needn’t steal away your time. I’m happy to read the historical records.”
“I admire your zeal,” he assured her with a smile. “But rest easy; you’ve all the time in the world to learn.” A quick flicker of regret flashed over Elena’s face—as one of common blood, she did not have all the time in the world. She knew what he’d meant, and it was kind, but the familiar longing to be more now gnawed at the edges of her heart. Merit perceived this, and his gaze softened as he looked upon her. “I’m both delighted and flattered that you would read of my earlier accomplishments,” he told her, “and I agree wholeheartedly that there are insights not found within the pages of these texts. For one, I find it only fair for you to know that the Touched were once much more in tune with nature and held powers beyond their extended lifespans.”
Elena only blinked, unsure of the significance of this statement. “I am aware,” she replied. “Such stories are popular, particularly in historical texts relating to the early formation of realms.” She’d read of Touched who communed with beasts or had the power to heal grievous wounds. In modern society, the Touched had lost such abilities but kept their kingdoms running with longevity and a greater understanding of the trials of time. Merit only looked at her with some apology.
“The truth lies somewhere between the old and the new,” he divulged. “In general, the power of ancient blood has long-since faded. That said, there are occasions of latent gifts.”
“Gifts?” Elena asked. By now she had forgotten about her tea, and it sat cooling on her lap. She subconsciously gripped the teacup as she found the words for her next question. “And… what of you, my king?”
He looked almost bashful, breaking some composure to scratch his bearded chin. “Nothing so grand as to capture the imagination. Merely a heightened sense of perception, and that in itself is not infallible.” He watched Elena as she took in this information, wondering what it meant.
“And the princes?”
Merit shook his head. “There is no evidence of abnormality or unusual ability. As I say, such things are rare and not cause for overexcitement. I only tell you to illustrate that there are indeed some truths held close to the chest that will not appear in mass publications.”
“Then I thank you for telling me,” Elena replied sincerely. She looked down at her tea. “Is there…” she hesitated, “any lingering matter your perception requires of me?”
Merit’s nostrils flared. What power does Lady Helm possess? He managed a chuckle. “I hadn’t meant to imply that there was any issue. I’ve not been subjecting you to some secret test. Truth be told, I find you wholly impressive.”
Elena could do nothing to hide the blush that crossed her face. Her best effort was to pick up her teacup and take an extended drink, shielding herself momentarily from view. Merit too felt a warmth upon his cheeks; it was unlike him to be so candid with anyone new. He cleared his throat. “Although,” he started. His voice sounded a bit rough, so he took a quick sip of tea. “If I’m to be transparent, I do wonder what more you know about the subject of blessed items.”
This took Elena by surprise. “What do you mean?”
“At dinner, you showed some knowledge of such items,” Merit explained.
“Not really,” Elena admitted.
“You seemed to corroborate the authenticity of what Rolfe had presented.”
Elena furrowed her brow. “And why not?” she said. She saw no reason for Rolfe to make such grand false claims. She remembered the pendant’s disappearance and a sudden suspicion crossed her mind. “Surely you didn’t take it for inspection.” The corners of the king’s mouth threatened a smile. She searched his face. “Not you, of course,” she corrected herself with growing realization. “Maude.”
A laugh escaped him. “Incredible,” he said. He looked at Elena, quick and acute and unabashed in her excellence. “Yes,” he told her. “It was taken at my behest. Rest assured, it has already made its safe return.”
As astonished as Elena was, she was satisfied at having been correct. She felt vindicated, but then she wondered about the other behaviors she’d noticed from Maude. Had the king sent Maude to check in on Elena? She’d found the interaction odd, but if that were the case, she believed the intentions to be kind and actually rather flattering. And what of Maude’s relationship with Prince Drake? Surely the king wouldn’t ask that of a member of the staff. Elena had half a mind to ask, but that seemed too personal a question, so she sipped her tea and left it alone for now.
Prince Drake was with Maude at that very moment, losing their latest game of chess. As Maude’s queen pinned Drake’s king, he sighed dramatically. “One more game?” he asked. “I know it is too late to finish at this hour, but I promise I won’t cheat.”
“Of course you won’t,” Maude replied, returning her pieces to their starting positions. “If you had cheated each time we left a game on the board, you’d have won by now.”
“You wound me!” Drake laughed, retrieving his own pieces. A quiet tap on the window caught Drake’s ear. He glanced over; Dolly couldn’t be seen, but she would be ducked below, pretending to prune the last of summer’s roses.
Maude finished placing her pawns and then stood. “We’ll start the next game another time,” she promised. “I have more work to do this evening.”
“If you insist,” Drake replied, walking her to the door. “Until next time.” He closed the door behind her, then hurried to the window and opened it. Dolly clambered inside, practically falling into Drake’s arms. “Whatever is the matter?” he asked jovially.
She took a breath, returning her breathing to normal after racing to finish all of the day’s work and then sneaking toward the prince’s room. She looked into Drake’s eyes, emphasizing the importance of her message. “There is something strange about your brother’s new hire.” Dolly hadn’t heard the story of Rolfe’s blessed fire opal and therefore had no reasonable explanation for the strange pull she had felt when they had come face to face. She hoped that Drake would have a ready answer, but he had been absent from the room at the time and had none.
Rolfe had found his missing pendant mere moments ago. He’d nearly gone mad searching for it, afraid to venture toward the front of the manor where the family was until he had found it. Finally, he’d resorted to tossing his room over one more time, and he found it in the corner between the dresser and the wall. He could have sworn he’d put it bedside, but he must have set it on the dresser and it had fallen overnight. He didn’t question it, only sighed in relief, put it on, then hurried toward Erryn’s room while trying to avoid too much attention.
Now, he knocked quickly on the door and then pushed it open before Erryn even had the chance to reach it. “What-” Erryn began, but Rolfe threw the door shut behind him and took Erryn’s hands in his.
“Hear this,” he said, squeezing Erryn’s hands and speaking seriously. “The florist, Dolly, is Touched.”
CH 9: SUMMER GALA
Days passed, and the brothers avoided each other. Erryn knew that Dolly was Touched, and he knew that she would have felt Rolfe’s ancient blood, but Rolfe had already established an excuse with the family and should not be discovered further. What preoccupied him now was that he was not certain if she was one of Drake’s lovers. If she was, it would be damning for Drake; he would be knowingly hiding a rogue Touched. Now that Erryn reflected on this, he could envision the way Drake seemed to always hover around her as if to shield her from detection. Erryn simply didn’t know what to do with this information. What he failed to consider was Drake’s perspective.
Drake had been told that Rolfe had ancient blood. He didn’t have the ears of the Touched, but Drake did not doubt Dolly’s assessment. Drake did not know about the pendant and so assumed that Erryn was aware of Rolfe’s nature without pretense. He believed that King Merit knew nothing of this; after seeing that order of execution, Drake feared that no unofficial Touched like Dolly—or whatever Rolfe may be—would be cordially welcomed and accepted in the manor. Surely Erryn was keeping close to Rolfe and shielding him in the same way that Drake did for Dolly. But why?
This was the line of questioning that had not occurred to Erryn. As far as he was aware, he had never in his life given any reason for anyone to doubt that he would marry and sire children as he had been expected to. Even now, he and Elena still acted out a courtship when their hearts were elsewhere. What more could be expected? But Drake was practiced at faux relationships, and he had never been convinced that there was anything between Erryn Ephtas and Elena Helm. However, he did recall the look on his brother’s face when he’d recounted the tale of his rescue. He’d never seen such interest and excitement.
The mood was still standoffish and analytical on the day of the summer gala. The ballroom was bursting with flowers, and Dolly hovered next to the arch of hydrangeas at the entrance, keeping herself near Prince Drake as he greeted the attendees. As a gala guest, she wore an embroidered dress and a floral crown, but she had urgent news to share with the prince and so was barely attentive to the event unfolding around her.
Erryn and Merit were on the opposite end of the ballroom, filling glasses with wine and setting them in neat rows for the guests to take. The Ephtas men all wore loose fitting shirts under tailored vests etched with gold thread. Curtis stood next to the king, not quite working but not quite able to fully abandon all duties and enjoy himself as a guest. He spoke with a woman from Sundry who had commented on the ballroom decorations. “- and is the culmination of some weeks’ work,” he told her, gesturing at the height of the walls. The two longer walls of the room had temporary lattices installed from end to end and floor to ceiling. They overflowed with all manner of flowers from the greenhouse and gardens. The yield had been abundant, and now the room was heady and sweet with its aroma. Even overhead, a chiffon canopy on the ceiling had been pinned with a smattering of colorful blossoms reminiscent of stars in the sky. It was a crowning achievement of ornamentation.
“Here you are, Curtis,” Erryn said, handing him a glass of wine.
“Thank you,” Curtis replied, taking the glass and indulging in a drink. He then set the glass back down, placing one hand on the table and the other on his head as though he were dizzied.
King Merit frowned. “Curtis,” he said. “You mustn’t strain yourself.”
Erryn tilted his head. “Are you unwell?” he asked.
“Nonsense,” Curtis denied. He brought his hand to mouth, gave a small cough, then reclaimed his glass of wine. He saw the king’s stern look and met it with an amicable smile. “I shall go and be merry.” He left them to their task, off to mingle with the guests. He passed Rolfe, who danced with Seraphine on the ballroom floor.
Rolfe was not much for dancing, but he was having a nice time with the estate staff and appreciated their efforts to include him in the festivities. He had borrowed a dress shirt from Mr. Pelton; it was a starchy thing with a rather dated ruffle at the neck, not quite in line with the evening’s more unpretentious—though elegant—theme. It was an easy faux pas to forgive, particularly because it was slightly too small and strained over the muscles of his back in a way that many in attendance found alluring. He’d danced with several maidens already. He only wished he could dance with Erryn, but that wouldn’t be possible. He and Seraphine came to a stop as the string quartet finished their song.
Erryn and Merit had finished their task, and now they could begin to work the room. Erryn took up a conversation with one of Sundry’s shopkeepers, while Merit picked up a glass of wine for himself and began to scan the ballroom. It had become rather full with guests; they would likely need to open up the doors onto the west lawn, but for now the enclosed space held a pleasant buzz of conversation and a sociable atmosphere. Still, with a subtle sort of anticipation, Merit continued to scan the crowd. He hadn’t known what he was looking for until Lady Helm appeared on the opposite end of the room, standing beneath the arch of hydrangeas and looking about the room with some wonder. She wore a deep blue dress with a structured bodice and sheath skirt. Her dark hair had been brushed back at the temples and secured behind her head with a satin bow, leaving its length to sweep down and brush her naked shoulders. She wore the golden cuffs on her ears, petite diamonds catching the light, but she was otherwise unadorned. Even so, her beauty turned heads as she slowly stepped into the room, still taking in the walls of flowers and the splendor of the evening.
Almost without thinking, the king had taken another glass of wine and now stood before her, his chest stirring as her eyes met his. “For you,” he said, presenting the glass.
“My thanks,” she smiled. She stopped herself from fidgeting, from reaching up to her ear and touching the golden cuff, but Merit read her intention all the same.
“They’re beautiful,” he assured her, tipping his glass toward her. “I’m glad to know they’re to your liking.”
“Most assuredly so,” she told him, looking at him from overtop her raised glass and taking a slow sip of wine.
After finishing the dance with Rolfe, Serpahine had requested a song with Prince Drake. They danced together in good spirits, laughing familiarly with one another. From there, he was summoned by admirers song after song, until finally he felt he had spent enough time flirting that it would be safe to share a dance with Dolly. She had watched him from the side of the room, enamored as he laughed and twirled and treated his citizens to a happy time.
As a new melody began, he stepped toward her with an extended hand. “May I have this dance?” he asked, grinning sincerely. She smiled. They made their way to the ballroom floor and joined the other couples dancing. Drake pulled Dolly close, and she was so happy that she momentarily leaned her head against his shoulder. For this brief moment, they could pretend that this was an official courtship. Lovers danced around them, creating an imagined sense of privacy and intimacy. Drake whispered, “I hope you are enjoying yourself, my dear.”
She leaned back to look at him. “Ever so much,” she told him. “But listen: steal yourself away and meet me in the store room.”
Drake chuckled mischievously. “Surely you've the patience to wait for tonight-”
Dolly shushed him, eyeing him with reproach. “My insistence is sincere. We’ve matters to discuss.” She looked troubled and unsure, with an underlying emotion Drake could not quite read. He frowned, wondering if this had to do with Erryn or Rolfe, but he would have to be patient; for now, they finished their dance in silence, then went their separate ways.
Prince Drake took up a conversation with another guest, but his focus was entirely on Dolly as he watched her weave her way through the ballroom and find the door to the store room. This was connected to the ballroom, and inside it held extra banquet furnishings and unused decorations. Tonight, it would be the private setting for an unusual rendezvous. Drake watched Dolly slip through the door, and he waited several minutes before following after her. Another song had just ended, and the guests turned to give applause to the musicians. Drake took the opportunity to sneak through the door, reasonably confident he had avoided detection.
Dolly had taken a seat on one of the spare banquet chairs, pulling it away from the wall and waiting with a nervous bounce of her leg. As Drake quietly closed the door behind himself, she rose to meet him. “Tell me what troubles you,” he said, striding over and taking her hands in his.
“I shall come out with it, then,” Dolly exhaled with a nod. “Despite our precautions, I find we have conceived.” Drake was sure he had misheard. His face was somewhat blank, and so Dolly’s worries began to flow forth. “Never had I presumed to take some higher station, nor dreamed to burden you with illegitimate child. Therefore say the word and I shall be gone, perhaps to Illamette-”
Tears had sprung to her eyes, but Drake only pulled her close, kissing her passionately and then resting his forehead against hers. “You speak of treason—not of kingdom but of my heart. Your absence would be my undoing.” She hugged him tightly, tears of relief and uncertainty escaping her. The prince rested his chin over her head. “How my heart flutters,” he murmured. He thought suddenly of his father’s desk, of the order of execution, and his chest constricted. “If we must start life anew, then so we shall.”
The door opened, and the burst of noise from the ballroom startled them. Dolly took a step back from Drake, wiping her eyes and fluffing out her hair to cover her ears. It was Prince Erryn stepping inside, and Rolfe ducked in behind him and closed the door. “I never,” Erryn admonished them. He meant well, but his sudden appearance was jarring and unwelcome. “Rolfe spied your exit and alerted me.”
Drake took a step forward, defensive. “We’ve no need of you,” he said harshly, directing his tone at the both of them. Rolfe bristled, second-guessing if Drake somehow knew the truth of him. Erryn only tilted his head, confused by Drake’s tone, and raised his hands innocently.
“I only advise your quick, unseen return to the ballroom,” he said. “This meeting is utterly inappropriate in the midst of the gala.”
The door opened again, and now Erryn turned around, feeling somewhat caught out himself. The king entered the store room with Lady Helm one step behind him. She cast Erryn an apologetic glance but otherwise said nothing. Merit and Elena had seen Erryn and Rolfe enter, and it now seemed clear that they had gone to retrieve the others. “Drake,” he began in much the same voice Erryn had taken.
“Did you really!” Drake burst, gesturing toward Erryn with cynicism. “You would abandon my trust so much as to involve our father?”
Erryn practically reeled back in shock. “I have done nothing of the sort,” he protested.
“Drake, this impertinence will not stand,” Merit said curtly, irritated with Drake’s brash tone.
A fiery look came over Drake’s face. He was sure that Erryn had reported Dolly’s identity to his father, and now Merit spoke of her very existence. He glowered at them both, positioning himself between them and Dolly. “Keep away from her,” he warned.
Erryn feared that Drake was giving himself away more than he realized. “Drake, you needn’t-”
But as Erryn stepped forward, Drake swept his arm out in an angry gesture. “Back!” he yelled, a fearful sort of fury in his voice. Where his arm had motioned, flames shot down, catching the carpet and creating a slow burn. They all shared a stunned silence, looking from the smoldering carpet to the prince’s hand. Drake seemed to emanate heat, embers floating up around him.
“Everything will be alright,” Erryn managed, his palms up innocently as he stepped forward and smothered the carpet’s heat with the sole of his boot. Drake seemed to calm down a little, his countenance returning to normal. Dolly stepped forward to put a supporting hand on his back, looking worried.
“My dear boy,” Merit said gently as he began to understand the fuller picture. “You misunderstand.” He looked at Dolly, addressing her directly. “You are in no danger, Dolly. Your service has been a welcome addition to the estate, as has your disposition. Please do not fear.”
“You are Touched?” Elena asked in surprise. She looked at Merit and nearly chuckled in disbelief. “And you knew.”
“Of course,” Merit replied with some fatigue. “There is little that escapes me.” He looked then at Rolfe, who stood rigidly. “What manner of being are you?”
“A-Ah,” Rolfe muttered, not sure how to proceed.
Now it was Prince Erryn who postured defensively. “Have we your word ensuring Rolfe’s safety as well?”
After having the fire opal examined, Merit had determined that Rolfe was not what he claimed to be, but he hadn’t known if Erryn was wise to the deception or had taken Rolfe at his word. Now Erryn showed prior knowledge of the ruse and acted out in defense of Rolfe—confirming a nameless suspicion that Merit had rejected as a possibility. It came as a shock rivaling that of Drake’s summoning of fire. With sudden understanding, he looked at Lady Elena, and he was certain that she had already come to learn and accept this.
Merit felt overcome with exhaustion. “We’ve much to discuss,” he addressed them all. “Let us convene tomorrow after requisite consideration and repose.”
“Do you sincerely assure us that all will be well?” Erryn pressed, his expression earnestly hopeful.
“Your word,” Drake demanded.
The king managed a tired smile. “My word.” He glanced at the mark left in the carpet, then turned and exited through the door to the ballroom, bidding the others to follow. Hesitantly, with uncertain looks between them all, they shuffled out of the store room and rejoined the gala.
The store room was closed. The carpet had been put out with only a minor blemish. Up above, at the top of the curtains, a stray ember had stuck to the fabric and began to slowly burn.
CH 10: IGNITION
Prince Drake led Dolly back toward the hydrangea arch at the entryway of the ballroom. He would not test his father’s patience by leaving the gala, but he dropped his act of Patron Prince and kept Dolly close as they stationed themselves along the wall and whispered with each other. They couldn’t know what King Merit’s plans for them were, but he had guaranteed their protection for now. Would he be so generous with our child? Dolly and Drake were in a world of their own as they contemplated their future.
Rolfe and Erryn were on the far side of the ballroom; Erryn had returned to the wine supply and readied himself a heavy pour. His hands shook, wine flowing unsteadily. Rolfe put a steady hand over Erryn’s, taking the wine bottle from him. Erryn looked at him with appreciation—and some apology—and Rolfe only tilted his head, sighing sharply in commiseration. He kept hold of the bottle, leaning back to drink directly from it.
King Merit, as patriarch and practiced premier, was most prepared to re-enter the gala and resume the duties of host. He exchanged a few polite words with several guests, then walked toward the musicians with a mind to request something lively that would uplift his spirits. Elena followed him, eager to get in a word. “My king,” she called out; the ballroom now teemed with guests and overlapping chatter. Merit turned. Her hand was held toward him but she retracted it. “A word, I beg.”
He saw the troubled look on her face. He felt for her, but he shook his head. “As I said, we’ve much to discuss, but first we shall honor our guests and fulfill this undertaking.” He gestured about the room, at the people laughing and applauding the quartet’s latest number.
“Very well,” she replied, and he nearly turned away. “A dance then.” He looked back at her with some incredulity. “Lead your guests by way of the ballroom floor,” she said, “and in the meantime I shall say my piece.” Her gaze was stern, and Merit could not help but smile.
The music resumed with a slow and gentle tune, and Merit held a hand out for Elena. She took hold of it, closing the distance between them. They began to step in time, and for a moment, neither could remember a care or concern. Then Elena met his eyes with an earnest disquietude. “I’ll speak plainly,” she said. “I ask that you keep a light hand in the reproval of Prince Erryn.”
Merit’s lips parted in perplexity. “You confound me,” he told her with furrowed brow. “From where does your mercy spring forth? Admit to me now that you know the truth of him.”
Elena steeled her gaze, but her eyes softened as she saw the look Merit gave her. A small, wistful laugh escaped her. “I won’t endeavor to deceive you,” she said, “for I fear you shall only see to the heart of me.” Merit’s arms were tense as he led Elena across the floor. “Yes,” she admitted. “I am well aware of the prince’s disposition.” Something occurred to her then, and she gripped Merit’s shoulder. “Oh, but trust that I shall be your confidante,” she told him, “much as I have been his.”
Merit could scarcely believe the depths of Lady Elena’s self-sacrificial nature; he’d known her to aim for perfection, but she’d been here such a short time before committing her life to her proposed role as future queen. And alas, I did unknowingly misguide her with false pretense, Merit thought. He pulled her a bit closer, speaking at a low volume. “If I were to speak impertinently, would you forgive me the trespass?”
She had begun to flush, and Merit now felt his chest tighten. “Of course,” she told him.
“You mustn’t lose yourself in the pursuit of your goals,” he said. “Continue to exercise your intellect. To shine.” He resisted the urge to move a hand to her ear, to the twinkling cuff. He smiled. “To speak plainly.”
Elena found his praise intoxicating. She would have liked to return these compliments, but she found them too gracious and so instead rebuffed them. “All these things I do to be useful,” she insisted. “To be the queen that any king would wish to have.”
The music swelled in one final note, the song coming to its end, and Merit leaned forward, dipping her with a supportive hand on her back. “And so you are,” he said quietly.
As the room broke into applause again, the two seemed to remember themselves. Elena quickly straightened herself, but one of her cuffs had come loose and now dropped to the floor. A passerby kicked it without noticing, sending it into the crowd.
“Allow me,” said Merit, brusquely stalking after it. Elena trailed behind him, feeling foolish and embarrassed. The cuff had swiftly been swept away, and Merit and Elena followed it until they reached the edge of the room. Merit knelt and picked it up, handing it back to Elena.
“Thank you,” she managed.
Just then, someone opened the door to the store room, and a wall of flame burst forth. Guests halted their activities and reacted in alarm. Smoke and embers rolled through the doorway and rose to the ballroom ceiling, while fire began to pour from the doorframe and ignite the wooden lattice that had been secured along the wall. All at once the ballroom was a flurry of movement and clamorous din. As the attendees commenced with their panic, the gala hosts each did their part to prevent tragedy.
“A calm and expeditious exit!” King Merit ordered. His command was authoritative, but it did little to soothe the guests, who threw down their wine glasses and ran for the doors.
Erryn and Rolfe ran to the large glass doors overlooking the west lawn, each taking a side and throwing them open. As people streamed through, the men secured the doors wide and watched as the flames began to grow.
Drake and Dolly were closer to the main entryway. As they began their exit, Dolly was buffeted by the crowd, nearly knocked over. Drake wrapped an arm around her tightly, ushering her forward and into the hall. The guests continued down the hall, running out of the manor altogether. Drake placed a hand on Dolly’s cheek. “Go now and fetch the guards not in attendance. Then take a horse to Sundry and the doctor’s,” he bid her. She nodded quickly and ran down the hall.
“I’m here,” Maude announced, having come into the hallway from behind Drake. “Help me fetch the suppressants.”
“Right,” Drake agreed.
The estate was not unequipped for fires—King Merit had lived through a disastrous fire in his youth and now kept an interest in fire preparedness. In several locations throughout the manor, tucked away in closets, the staff could find containers of suppressant ash. A great supply was in the kitchen and could be sprinkled over burning stovetops, but in a situation such as this, the glass containers could be hurled as projectiles. Drake and Maude now ran through the house for collection.
The trellis wall was properly ablaze, greenery quickly withering and scattering to the floor. “We must go,” Elena urged Merit, a deep fear finding its way into her voice.
But the overfull ballroom still held throngs of people pushing their way to the doors. “One at a time!” the king pleaded with them, but by now his voice was lost in the sea of shouts and the crackle of fire.
A steady cracking sound began to work its way along the ballroom wall, and all at once the entirety of the trellis came crashing down over the remaining occupants. Merit yanked Elena into his arms, shielding her as the burning trellis fell and split apart over his back. All throughout the room, the trellis snapped apart, creating a maze of flaming rubble. Most guests had been near enough to the exits that they would not be trapped, but Elena and Merit now found themselves quite alone. They looked at each other, unsure of what to express.
“Here,” Merit said, reaching for Elena’s hand and pulling her in the direction of the closer exit. They made some progress, but their path became impassable. Critically, the heat and smoke in the room was able to rise to the high ceilings and flow out over the lawn, which would buy time for the last few guests to make their way out.
Erryn and Rolfe had run and procured all of the gardeners’ pails, dunking them into the garden fountain and tossing them at the nearest flames. Attendees that had evacuated to the west lawn now lent their hands, forming a bucket brigade. The progress would be slow and brutal, but eventually they would win out. Even so, Erryn and Rolfe could hear several people still inside call out for aid. Erryn seemed to steel himself, peering into the hot haze of the room. Rolfe was at his side, taking hold of his arm. “Set foot inside and you shall face my wrath,” he warned. With that, he turned and bolted into the ballroom, back into the blaze.
“Rolfe!” Erryn shouted, but he had already disappeared behind smoke and flame.
Prince Drake had run to the kitchen supply pantry and carried back two heavy woven sacks full of ash, breathing heavily at the effort. He had slammed them to the ground and ripped one open, then held it in both arms and began scattering it about the ballroom doorway, keeping the fire at bay and gaining greater access inside. Meanwhile, Maude had enlisted the help of several other staff members, instructing them on where to find more suppressant. She returned to Drake’s side and threw the glass containers into the ballroom with surprising strength and precision. She shouted orders at the other staff, having them retrieve more empty jars from the kitchen and start to fill them with the other sack of ash.
Merit and Elena were still surrounded by flames. They could faintly hear the firefighting efforts underway, the shattering of glass and the hiss of water upon the smoldering trellis, but they could see no one else and remained trapped. “Sh-should we run?” Elena asked doubtfully, seeing no clear exit path.
Merit had held out, knowing the danger of stumbling into the inferno without vision, but he felt now that the risk of staying in place was too great, even with several teams fighting the fire. Seeing a stray bottle of wine on the floor, he took hold of it; it was only half-full and had grown warm but was not quite hot. He removed his vest and his shirt, dousing the shirt with wine as best as he could. He draped the shirt over Elena, who held it over her head as though attempting to keep dry in the rain. As they began to move, a large swath of the chiffon canopy came falling overhead. The embers had reached it, and now it rained fire.
The king took hold of the fabric and tossed it away, burning his hands but sparing them both further injury. Elena briefly lowered the shirt to press the relative coolness against Merit’s palms, then held it out overhead for the both of them to share as a partial shield. Each of them wondered if these foolhardy, selfless acts from the other would be the last moment they shared.
A flurry of embers in front of them caused them to recoil. The bonfire of rubble in front of them was shifting, being pulled away. A heavy piece of trellis—held intact by the interweaving greenery—was lifted into the air. Rolfe stood beneath, flames resting upon his shoulders. He looked upon them with reptilian eyes. Embers danced up the curves of his draconic horns.
CH 11: MANAGEMENT
The work went well into the night. The fire was put out and the smoke allowed to clear. The store room and its contents had been completely lost, along with all furniture and 2 walls in the ballroom. The roof and affected walls would need to be rebuilt, the floors and other walls refinished. There were a number of injuries, but none were severe, and no one had perished. All in all, the destruction had been mercifully narrow, confined to this furthest perimeter of the manor.
The material destruction was a trifle; the safety of all in attendance was what concerned King Merit, and in that regard he was immensely thankful. The princes would echo that sentiment, but Prince Drake held an awful thorn in his heart at having been the cause of injury and alarm. When at last the damage had been assessed, the plans for rebuilding were put in place, and the sun had begun to rise, the royal family finally retired to their rooms for a few hours’ rest. Drake took Dolly with him, and Erryn likewise could not find it within himself to part with Rolfe.
When all were rested and the afternoon sun was high overhead, they convened in Merit’s office. They were joined by Curtis, who sat in one of the armchairs by the fireplace and coughed into a handkerchief. “Structural review is completed and repairs are underway,” he told Merit, speaking through the fabric he held over his mouth. “We’ve more than enough manpower—all volunteers from Sundry.”
“Curtis, are you well?” Drake asked with concern. “Did you inhale much smoke?”
“Oh, no,” Curtis replied with a dismissive hand. “I admit I excused myself to an early night; I was unaware of the commotion until the worst of it was over and someone fetched me.” He suppressed another cough. Drake looked away from him then, and Curtis followed his gaze to the unlit fireplace. “Of course, I did oversee the early morning appraisal, and will continue to watch over repairs. And,” he added, “earlier this afternoon I did speak with Merit about that fateful meeting which preceded the chaos.” The room was somber. “My prince,” Curtis said kindly, addressing Drake. “What you’ve discovered is a wonderful gift. Have you attempted command of fire since yesterday?”
“I don’t dare,” the prince grumbled.
“Please do,” Merit told him, gesturing to the fireplace with bandaged hands. A fresh bundle of logs sat behind the protective metal screen.
“Is that wise?” Erryn asked, casting an apologetic glance at his brother. Rolfe, Dolly, and Elena mirrored Erryn’s concerned expression.
Merit only shook his head. “That is the goal of today—” he said, “to sort through all that fortune has cast our way and determine the most reasonable course of action.” Uncharacteristically, he ran a weary hand through his hair. “I’ll have your demonstration, and then we shall hear from Rolfe and Dolly.”
With a heavy, flippant sigh, Drake gestured unenthusiastically at the fireplace, and the logs cracked to life. A small flame took root, rising up toward the chimney. The room held its breath in awe. Drake wore a deeply troubled frown. “And what of it?” he asked Merit. “What would you do with this information?”
“Nothing,” replied Merit. “Only to keep it hidden as a useful resource should the need ever arise.” His gaze shifted to Rolfe. “As with dragons.”
“In this regard I am a disappointment,” Rolfe said, “for I am but half of what you would call upon. I can offer you no great flight.” He gestured toward Drake. “Nor control of fire.”
“What providence,” Curtis mused.
“There will be no such call,” Erryn interjected. “Rolfe is his own man.”
It quite surprised Merit to see Erryn standing against him; all his life, Erryn had done as he was told without complaint. To see the conviction he now displayed reminded Merit of his younger self. Had the circumstances not been so complicated, he might have laughed. “Despite what you may believe, I agree with you,” Merit said. He addressed Rolfe. “Your life is yours, as your mother’s life was hers. It was not ancient pact that placed her at my side, but a will for service.”
Rolfe’s hand rose to his chest, feeling the fire opal over his heart. It may have held no divine blessing, but it had belonged to his mother, and he treasured it all the same. “Truly?”
The king gave a benevolent nod. He was an ethical man, and while he expected much of his family and staff, the final choices they made would be theirs and theirs alone. “The kingdom of Ephtas did hence absolve all dragons from that ancient agreement. You are troth to no one based on blood alone.”
A small, quiet smile upturned the corner of Rolfe’s mouth. How heartening to know that Erryn’s hold on me is naught but the summation of all that I find dear. Erryn placed a hand on Rolfe’s shoulder. “You will harbor Rolfe here without the promise of service?” Erryn pressed Merit.
“Do I not serve?” Rolfe chided him, which elicited a small chuckle from Erryn.
“We owe our very lives to you,” Elena spoke sincerely. She looked from Rolfe to Merit, but she did not say anything further. Even so, the king felt her sway.
“Yes,” Merit answered Erryn. He addressed Rolfe, “You have my word, and my debt of thanks.” He then turned back toward Drake and Dolly, stifling an exhausted sigh. “Dolly.”
“Y-Yes, my king,” she stuttered anxiously.
“Wait,” Drake began, crossing his arms as he looked at his father. “How long have you known about Dolly?” In his desire to be with her, Drake had forced himself to believe that he could keep her shielded from his family’s detection in perpetuity. In retrospect it seemed utterly foolish not to have constructed some excuse the way Erryn apparently had. It gave Drake some comfort to know that Merit had allowed Dolly to stay in the manor—the way Drake had hoped he would—but he was still feeling cautious now.
Merit tilted his head thoughtfully. “It was a quick discovery,” he admitted. Dolly and Drake looked chagrined. “It was not by my own detection,” Merit told them. “Rather it was your crude playacting with maids such as Maude.”
“Maude?” asked Drake. He furrowed his brow. She’d given him no objections to pretending to engage in romance, and she’d never asked any questions of him; he hadn’t mentioned Dolly as a lover, much less as Touched. Perhaps she’d simply guessed. Drake frowned. Evidently, he’d been careless.
Merit was sympathetic. “Do not resent Maude for informing me of her suspicions. Contrarily, it would be an unfair request to have Maude keep such information to herself.”
The point Merit made was fair enough, but Drake and Dolly still felt a kiss of bitterness. Dolly was hurt and angered by the betrayal, but if she was honest with herself, she understood. Drake shared similar sentiments. He’d spent so much time with Maude that this realization felt strange, but well within the parameters of her intellect and sense of service. Master of chess, he thought.
Again, King Merit addressed Dolly. “As I have said before, Dolly, you have been a welcome addition here. That said… I hope you won’t think me unkind, but perhaps you would be happier elsewhere.”
“What!” Drake protested. Dolly placed a calming hand on his arm.
She met the king’s eyes, feeling small and self-conscious. “You would receive no objection from me, sir, but-”
“Hah!” Drake burst. “I’ll hear none of it.”
“Easy,” Curtis advised, holding out one hand in an appeasing gesture.
Drake let out a measured breath, calming himself. “Would you so quickly cast out the love of my life?” he asked Merit. The king paused, weighing the extent of Drake’s feelings. It had been obvious that he cared deeply for her, bringing her to the heart of Ephtas and shielding her true nature, but now that Merit could see them together for himself, he analyzed them and worked to measure the strength of their bond. Drake only scoffed. “And what of the future heir of Ephtas? Would you exile your own flesh and blood?”
At this, the king walked to his desk and sat in his chair. He ran a hand over his face and sighed, readying himself for this latest round of planning. Erryn sighed too, though it was compassionate. “Goodness, Drake,” he muttered.
“I won’t be shamed,” Drake retorted. He took Dolly’s hand, looking into her eyes. “There could be no shame in this.”
None but Dolly had seen this side of Drake, and none knew how to respond. Curtis coughed into his handkerchief. Merit stood from his desk. “All that I’ve said remains to be true,” he assured them all. “Let us all retire for the evening. There will be no formal dinner—I’ve asked the kitchen to prepare a cold buffet for those working in the ballroom. Eat at your leisure and consider how you might like to move forward.”
With mumbled agreement, they all began filing out of the office. They were cautiously optimistic that all would be well, but still burdened with trepidation. King Merit sat at his desk once more, an evening of deep thought ahead of him. Only Curtis stayed behind, walking to the king’s desk and standing by his side the way he’d done for most of his life. “At ease, Merit,” he advised.
Merit only chuckled. “These are not easy days, Curtis.”
“Hm,” replied Curtis, stroking his beard thoughtfully. He smiled. “Through it all, you find pride in your sons.”
“I do,” Merit acknowledged, allowing himself a smile. “What hearts they have.”
“Tell them so.” Curtis coughed into his sleeve, eliciting a look from the king. “I’ll be going,” he added. “I would like to check in with the builders.”
“How I wish you would take your rest,” Merit told him with raised brow.
“Ah, but what respite my spirit finds in the knowledge that Ephtas is well,” Curtis laughed. He nodded his head in parting, then made his way to the opposite end of the manor. Tables lined the hallway outside of the ballroom door. The kitchen had prepared cuts of bread and meat for sandwiches, several cold sides, and tray upon tray of fruit and vegetables. Curtis helped himself, then chatted with the maids who were scrubbing the soot that had been left in the hallway as smoke had escaped from the ballroom.
The general air was notably positive; the volunteers from Sundry were glad to be of service, and the staff were contributing and laughing together. Rolfe had joined the repair efforts and carried heavy lumber over his back from outside the doors to the lawn and into the ballroom. After a few hours’ work, Erryn arrived to share a meal with Rolfe. They sat on the hallway floor, joking with each other and occasionally sharing food between their plates. Curtis approached them at the end of their meal, and they stood to speak with him.
“Hello, Curtis,” Rolfe greeted him.
“Rolfe,” Curtis responded in a friendly tone. “Thank you for all your hard work.” He nodded toward the ballroom.
“I only do my part,” was Rolfe’s humble reply. He stretched, his manner still rather casual for royal company, but it only made Curtis smile. “I’d like to thank you, Curtis,” Rolfe told him. “You have been nothing but kind since my transfer indoors.”
“Of course,” Curtis replied. “I believe your arrival at the estate has been quite the boon.” There seemed to be some other implication in Curtis’ words, and it threatened to make Rolfe blush.
“If you’ll excuse me,” Rolfe said, “I shall get back to work.” He took Erryn’s empty plate from him and deposited it with his own in the dirty dish bin under the farthest table. When he returned to the others, he looked around the hall, but no one else was there, so he darted to kiss Erryn’s cheek before re-entering the ballroom.
“Rolfe!” Erryn admonished, but a rather large smile crossed his face. Rolfe only scurried into the ballroom with a playful look back over his shoulder. Erryn sighed good-naturedly, then remembered Curtis next to him and felt crimson cross his cheeks.
Curtis failed to contain a smile. “Do not chasten yourself on my account,” he told Erryn. “I see only a man who has found himself.” He looked into Erryn’s hazel eyes and saw the battle against fear and uncertainty.
With sudden movement, Erryn stepped forward and hugged Curtis with enormous gratitude. “How I cherish your guidance and support.”
Curtis returned his hug, then stepped back and suppressed a cough. “Allow me one more piece of counsel,” he said, seeing Drake and Dolly approaching from the direction of the kitchen. “Treasure your brother. He is far more virtuous than flawed.”
“I believe you’re right,” Erryn said softly, eyeing his brother’s approach. “I will speak with him later, when we’re alone.” He gave Drake and Dolly a friendly wave and a polite smile, then left the hallway and returned to his bedroom.
Drake sighed as he and Dolly reached Curtis. “Avoiding me,” he said, looking after Erryn.
“He did acknowledge you,” Dolly pointed out, a loving hand against Drake’s back.
“My dear prince,” Curtis said. “You must not second-guess yourself.” He shared a smile with them both. “The two of you are blessed with the most beautiful thing.” He suppressed another cough. “Try to forgive your family’s cautious nature. They care for you greatly.”
Drake ran a hand over his face, and Curtis could see a young Merit standing before him. “I am naught but an ever-growing disappointment,” he sighed fretfully.
“My prince, you are all that you ever need be,” said Curtis. “You are no less intelligent than your brother, and you have all the kindness of your father.”
A step forward, and now it was Drake who embraced Curtis. “Thank you,” he said, and when he stepped back he quickly wiped his eyes.
Curtis did not need the acknowledgement and only smiled. “Are you here for dinner?”
Drake cleared his throat. “Yes—we’ll take it to the west parlor.”
“Would you join us?” Dolly added.
Curtis shook his head. “I’ve eaten, thank you.” He looked into the ballroom, at the progress that was well underway. “I believe I’ll take my leave shortly.”
“Goodnight then,” Drake said. He and Dolly prepared their plates and disappeared from the hall.
Curtis sighed contentedly. He was feeling tired. He walked to the tables and organized some of the buffet, combining half-empty plates for efficiency and placing the empty plates in the dish bin. The hour was still early, but he believed he had done enough and would go to his room for the night. As he dusted his hands clean, Lady Helm came into the hall.
“Oh, good evening,” she said pleasantly. She joined him by the tables. “Having dinner?”
“Retiring for the night,” he replied.
“Oh,” she said. She needn’t comment on the early hour. She looked around the empty hall. “Am I last to eat?”
“Not quite. Erryn, Drake, and their companions have come already, but King Merit has yet to arrive.” He chuckled, then coughed into his shirtsleeve. “I foresee a long night ahead in his office.” Elena made no comment, only scanned the many plates of food in front of her. “Perhaps we ought to bring him something.”
“A nice idea,” she replied vacantly. She looked up at him then, and he seemed to be waiting for her to say more. She wasn’t sure what to say, so she searched for words. “I confess, all these family revelations and royal implications have me vexed,” she admitted. “My role is rather undefined, and I’m not sure how best to offer my support.”
Curtis gave her a surprisingly soft smile. “It’s kind of you to worry so,” he told her, “but you mustn’t trouble yourself too greatly.”
“I fear it is in my nature,” she chuckled meekly. “Curtis, may I ask—as one who has served the royal family for so long, how do you think I should proceed? I hope it isn’t too forward to ask, but I’m told your counsel is second to none, and I feel I could use it now.”
She was clearly worried, but Curtis reassured her with a kind smile. “I daresay you don’t need my counsel at all,” he told her. “All that you need is within you.”
Elena sighed appreciatively, then fixed herself with a smile. “Thank you, Curtis,” she said. She turned again to the tables of food. “Well then, I shall fix two plates.” She glanced around. “I won’t pull the staff away from their work.”
With two plates of food, Elena walked down the hall, toward the king’s office. Curtis watched her go, and he had nothing but optimism within him. He checked the tables again, then the ballroom, and then left his work behind him.
CH 12: ABSOLUTION
Merit had been deep in thought for several hours but had come to no great conclusions. Eventually he had moved over to the fireplace, sitting in one of the armchairs and watching the flames dance behind the metal screen. He found himself no longer looking to the future, but replaying the events of the previous night. What highs and lows, he thought. The fire had caused such terror in his heart as he feared for the lives of his people, and indeed his own safety. Still, he considered the discovery of Drake’s abilities to be a great fortune. There had been other moments too, when the gala had stirred such joy in him…
From the doorway, Elena cleared her throat; it wasn’t as elegant an entry as she would have liked, but her hands were full and she could not knock to announce herself. She also declined to perform her small curtsy, partially because she did not want to drop anything and partially because to do so somehow felt silly after all that had occurred in the last 24 hours. “Good evening,” she said, smiling softly.
Merit stood from his chair at her appearance, then saw the plates she carried. A friendly laugh escaped him. “What’s this?” he said, quickly stepping over to take the plates from her.
“I thought you might like something to eat,” she said, demure. She followed as he returned to the fireplace; a varnished side table sat between the two armchairs, and the king placed the dishes there. The table was small, meant for glasses of wine or a stack of books, and when set with dinnerware it suddenly felt quite intimate.
“I am honored,” Merit said, “to be served by Lady Elena herself.” Merit took hold of each arm chair and moved them closer to the table, angling them further toward each other. He gestured for her to sit, catching sight of the blush on her cheeks.
“Hardly,” Elena laughed. “It is only my attempt to thank you for the care you’ve shown me.” Merit’s nostrils flared. He stood behind his armchair with bandaged hands gripping the back, almost afraid to sit down. Elena was not sure what to make of his hesitation. “Anyway, it isn’t a proper service, is it? I hadn’t the hands to bring you a beverage.” She looked troubled then, as though this had been a foolish endeavor.
“Fret not,” Merit replied, calming her with a sincere smile. He walked to his desk, bending to open the lower drawer. “I keep a reserve here for such spontaneous occasions.” He produced a bottle of wine and two glasses.
“How prepared you are!” Elena jested. She watched Merit as he uncorked the bottle and poured the wine.
Merit laughed. “If that were true, this would have been decanted and allowed to breathe. Rather, I keep a supply of unremarkable wine for those late nights when Curtis comes round to bend my ear.” He carried the glasses over, sitting in the chair opposite Elena. “I fear this shall be an unsophisticated pairing,” he told her, regarding the wine and the meal.
“Well, it’s about the company, isn’t it?” she replied coyly, forgetting herself. Merit’s gaze suddenly felt intense as he handed her a glass, and she sipped from it quickly. “Curtis,” she began, clearing her throat a little. “He isn’t well, is he?” She looked at him seriously.
Merit leaned back in his chair, swirling the wine in his glass. “No,” he replied. “No, Curtis isn’t well. He’s dying.”
Elena took a slow breath. “I’m sorry.”
“Mn,” Merit agreed. “He’s been unwell for some time, but age has taken its toll, and I fear we can’t rely on his counsel forever.”
“Are you alright?” Elena asked plainly. Merit felt exposed under her gaze.
“I will be,” he spoke quietly. He sighed. “And you?” he asked. “How are you faring? I fear that our family has left you in abeyance and done a great disservice.” He spoke with utter conviction, and his consideration soothed Elena’s heart.
She sighed wistfully, not quite meeting his gaze. She placed her glass carefully on the table. “I’ve done my best to proceed with the original arrangement in mind,” she said. Merit set his glass down too, leaning forward a bit to show his interest. “I wrote to Jadewick after our discussion in the east parlor,” she said, glancing at him. “About secret Touched.”
“Oh?” Merit asked. He was unsure where Elena would go with this.
Elena nodded. “I asked them—discreetly, of course—if they had heard any rumors about the Tropins that would suggest wrongdoing.” Merit was impressed by her resourcefulness, but she needn’t have troubled herself. “I received word back today,” Elena added. “My family is unaware of any such rumor, but I’m told that since my arrival here, the Tropins have been exceedingly curious about both this arrangement and overall Ephtas affairs.”
Merit furrowed his brow. This seemed to imply that Mr. Tropin had knowledge of his brother and was perhaps a part of this reconnaissance scheme. “I am inspired by your initiative and moved by your concern,” he told her, “but I do not understand—I ask how you are managing. How do you wish to proceed moving forward?”
“I… I am lost in that regard,” she admitted, her voice growing small. “I worry that this was the last useful action I had to offer.” She could no longer look at him, so she turned away, staring into the fire and tucking her hair behind her ear. “I know the arrangement lies with the Helm estate,” she said, “but for what it’s worth, I would absolve you of all agreements. If I am to be a burden here, send me on my way.” Merit stared at her, at the fire’s glow dancing across her fair skin. The flickering light in her eyes was the call of a lighthouse in the midst of a turbulent sea.
“Elena,” he said, standing from his chair. She looked up at him, at the seriousness emanating from him, and so she stood too. He held his hand slightly forward, aching to reach out and take hold of her, but he didn’t dare. “Please,” he managed, his voice gruff. “Cast aside all expectations and honor your own desire. If it is your home in Jadewick which calls to you, then know that you are free. If-” He hesitated. “If there is anything in Ephtas that should make you happy-”
The sea within her had overflowed, and now waterfalls cast themselves from her dark lashes. She moved forward, placing herself within the hold of Merit’s outstretched arm. “I’ll speak plainly,” she quoted herself, eliciting an uninhibited chuckle from Merit. They searched each other’s eyes, united in the sense of wonder that they shared. “It is you,” she whispered. “You would make me happy.”
He kissed her then, and she was warmer than the fire and sweeter than the wine. With one hand he held her close, and with the other he held the back of her neck; his thumb caressed her ear, but she was not ashamed and did not feel less-than for lack of ancient blood. She felt desired, seen. She felt valued—not for some useful gain, but for what she contained within. Both of them had led lives of service to others, and now they dared to find self-fulfillment in this passionate, lingering kiss. It was all that each had envisioned it to be.
CH 13: MANTLES
The following day was markedly cold for the time of year. Curtis had passed overnight, and now he lay in a closed casket on the east lawn. Birds sang overhead and a cool wind blew. The Ephtas men had each shed tears at the news of this loss, but they now stood dutifully in front of the mourners attending Curtis’ wake. This observance might have taken place indoors, but with the ballroom in such a state, Merit had decided to move the affair to the east lawn; he and Curtis had spent countless hours together in the east parlor, looking out over this exact spot and ruminating on life.
Maude had overseen the preparations. Anther had resigned as head gardener the day before, so Maude put Dolly in charge of the floral displays and funeral wreath. Chairs had been brought out onto the lawn, and attendees sat in neat rows as the royal family spoke on Curtis’ many virtues. The seats were mostly occupied by manor staff, many of whom had worked with Curtis for a great number of years. When all had had the opportunity to approach the casket and say their goodbyes, the crowd began to mingle and eventually filtered back into the house.
Maude and Mr. Pelton had gone to Sundry and bought the refreshments for the evening so that the kitchen staff would not need to work. Maude arranged it all in the dining room in a manner similar to the buffet tables that had been prepared for the workers the day before. There had been no construction today, nor would there be tomorrow. The staff made their plates in the dining room, then stood and chatted with each other in the foyer and the halls.
King Merit took a few moments to watch them all, a small, thoughtful smile on his face. He had hosted several funeral ceremonies and attended many more. Each had been a somber occasion, but each of them had arrived at the same moment without fail: the moment when the clouds of gloom parted and the spark of laughter turned the atmosphere lively again. He watched as Elena exchanged a laugh with Rolfe. He saw Maude and Dolly sharing a reconciling embrace. He scanned the room for his sons, but he did not see where they had gone off to.
Erryn had taken Drake aside and together they snuck off to the library. They sat in the leather chairs beside each other, and Erryn poured them each a generous glass of brandy. After a minute of shared contemplative silence, Erryn cleared his throat. “Drake, I must apologize,” he said. Drake raised his brows, surprised by this sudden proclamation. Erryn tilted his head and summoned a look of complete sincerity. “I cannot imagine the righteous joy you must have felt to learn of your future child.” He sat forward, placing a hand on his brother’s knee. “I regret expressing anything other than my sincere congratulations.”
Drake was utterly moved by this, and he placed his hand on top of Erryn’s, though he hung his head somewhat defeatedly. “I’ve more joy than I knew possible,” he affirmed. “But I do concede that I have fallen short of expectations in many regards.”
“I will scrutinize you no longer,” Erryn replied, shaking his head. “Never have you been a moral failure.” Drake let out a heavy sigh, releasing some of the tension that had lived within him for the last few years. He leaned back and drank his brandy, and Erryn did the same. “Truth be told, I’ve envied you,” Erryn said. “I considered you a freer man than I.”
“To be sure!” Drake said with a lopsided grin. “I’d not dispute your burden.”
They shared a laugh. Erryn tipped his glass toward Drake. “And now,” he went on, “I learn you are gifted with ancient power.”
Drake only held up a hand and stared at his palm. “So I can ignite a fireplace,” he said.
“Don’t belittle such rarity,” Erryn told him. He frowned. “Would you be a more fitting king than I?”
Drake scoffed. “By means of some party trick? What a boorish joke.”
“I mean what I say,” Erryn insisted. “If you are more attuned to some ancient power, that is reason enough to charge you as heir.”
“I would not think of it,” Drake refused. “I am not qualified, nor do I wish to be.” He shook his head. “You would so readily abandon this lifelong pursuit?”
Erryn shifted uneasily. “I would do my best for all of Ephtas, even if it meant stepping aside,” he said. Sadness crept in upon him as he stared at the brandy in his glass. “And also…” He worked to maintain a neutral expression. “You can be married.” He glanced at Drake, who looked on with sympathy. “You can have a wife.”
Drake scratched his forehead, feeling ill-equipped to understand what his brother went through. “I will reiterate: you are the only one of us remotely suitable for the position. Do not let go of your birthright—that which you have labored for and rightly earned—with such misguided altruism.” He saw through the thinly veiled pain on Erryn’s face, the fear to go against tradition and the expectation of perfection. Drake leaned forward, capturing his brother’s full attention. “Never have you been a moral failure.”
A stifled sob escaped Erryn, and he leaned forward, one hand over his face, the other reaching out toward Drake, who took it and allowed tears of his own to take hold. They sat together in the library for some time, and when they finally returned to the foyer, most of the staff had already gone to bed for the evening.
King Merit met them in the foyer with Maude at his side. “There you are,” he said. “Allow me to inform you of several changes moving forward.” With a slight frown, he said, “I’m sure you’ve heard of Anther’s resignation.”
“Yes,” Drake said. Dolly had been quite surprised by the news and had relayed it to him earlier in the day. “I’m told he felt some responsibility for the damage to the ballroom.” He sighed and shook his head. As head gardener, Anther had collaborated on the decoration planning for the gala. His gardens had been overabundant with all manner of flowers, and it had been his idea to construct the wooden lattices to show off the yield.
“A misguided notion,” Erryn offered. “His work was admirable.” He glanced at Drake. “It was no one’s fault,” he added.
“I am in agreement,” said Merit, “but I could not compel him to stay. So beginning tomorrow, Dolly will be our head gardener.” Drake exhaled in surprise, and Merit gave him an affirming nod. “I have discussed this with Dolly already. She will make use of an assistant gardener so that she may continue to work on her floral arrangements if she wishes.”
“She was pleased,” Maude reassured Drake with a smile.
Drake smiled cautiously. “Thank you,” he told Merit. “Truly.”
Maude tilted her head in the direction of Prince Drake’s room. “She has retired for the night. I assured her I would send you along after her.” It seemed there would be no more pretense that Dolly did not stay in Drake’s room.
Merit cleared his throat. “Additionally,” he said before Drake could excuse himself, “there is the matter of Curtis’ role.” A reflective silence fell over the foyer. “Maude will take up the mantle as estate manager. Please offer her your respect and assistance whenever she should need it.”
“Congratulations, Maude!” Erryn said jovially, reaching out to shake Maude’s hand.
Drake did the same, taking Maude’s hand and eyeing her sincerely. “Good for you, Maude. There is none more suited than you.”
A thankful smile broke out over Maude’s face. She and Drake had grown fond of each other, and she had feared that their relationship would be strained when the princes learned that she had been reporting back to the king. She smiled contentedly. There had been nothing to fear; Ephtas hearts were soft and kind. “Go now,” she told Drake, gesturing for him to leave for Dolly. With a smile and a nod to the others, Drake took his leave. Maude then looked at Erryn. “I would love a word with you,” she said, “merely to spend some time and align on our goals.”
“Of course,” he replied. He thought of his chats with Curtis, and he wondered how meetings with Maude might differ.
“I’ve enlisted Rolfe’s help tonight,” Maude went on, “clearing the dining room and readying the house for the night.” She exhaled in a chuckle. “I admit I am exhausted from the day; I wager it takes time and experience to gain the stamina of our beloved Curtis.”
“To be sure,” Merit agreed.
“If you care to check in with the others,” Maude told Erryn, nodding toward the dining room, “perhaps then you and I could play a round of chess before saying goodnight?”
Erryn could not remember the last time he had touched his chess set. “As you wish,” he agreed. He bid goodnight to the king, who stayed behind in the foyer with Maude while Erryn entered the dining room.
Rolfe had not yet begun to clear the table full of dishes and leftover refreshments. He sat in a chair next to Elena, his elbow propped up on the edge of the table, a grin on his face as he listened to her speak. She told him of the sort of parties her family held as she grew up in Jadewick, and the scandalous rumors she had overheard during such events. It was uncharacteristically bold talk on her part, but Rolfe had put her at ease, and they had spent the better part of the last hour gossiping about snobbish nobility. Erryn greeted them, spoke for a few minutes, then wished them each a good night—he did not know if Rolfe would sneak back toward his room late at night after doing his work, or go to his own quarters for the night, but he did not ask in front of Elena.
Erryn then walked to his room with Maude. As Maude took a seat and Erryn fetched his disused chess set, he wondered vaguely if he and Maude had ever spent such intentional time together. She had certainly been in this room before as she went about with her work, but he had never spent time with her the way Drake had. He affixed himself with a polite smile as he sat across from Maude and laid out their game.
“How are you feeling?” she asked him. “It is a sad day.”
Erryn sighed. “Truly,” he agreed. Erryn sat on the white side of the board, and he made his opening move. “Curtis will be greatly missed. He was an effective manager and a constant source of emotional support.”
“So it was with all on staff,” Maude informed him. “There was only respect and appreciation for him.” She chuckled. “The results of a lifetime’s work,” she surmised. “Give me some sixty years and I hope to have earned half the esteem.”
Erryn laughed. “I have no doubt you will thrive.” He noticed that Maude was playing her pieces quickly, as though she was barely putting any thought into it, though the moves were quite strategic—this was second nature. “Anyway, I’ll be alright,” he said. “And what of the staff?” He nodded to indicate the estate at large.
“In mourning,” she said. “But I believe all will be well with time.” She offered a friendly smile. “If anything of concern should arise, I shall inform you.” Erryn chuckled. “In fact,” Maude went on, “perhaps you and Rolfe could check in with Mr. Pelton.”
“Oh?”
Maude held a thoughtful hand to her chin and nodded. “Perhaps a day outdoors with Rolfe. Mr. Pelton does miss him now that he is here in the house.”
“Of course,” Erryn said, feeling a bit guilty. “Thank you. It’s a fine idea.” He leaned forward to better examine the chessboard. Maude had left her queen exposed, and he claimed it with a knight. Maude leaned forward with some surprise. She was an aggressive player by nature, overpowering less confident opponents with an offensive queen; this had never failed against Prince Drake, and she was now used to paying less attention during matches. It seemed that Prince Erryn was more skilled than she had presumed.
She exhaled, taking in the state of the board and formulating her new plan. There we are. To begin, she took the open knight. “Do you know,” she said, “you are better than your brother.”
“I confess I was surprised to learn he played at all,” Erryn replied, remembering the first time he’d noticed a chess set in Drake’s room. He thought back to his conversation with Drake earlier in the night, and again he wondered if Drake ought to take a more active role as heir. “Maude,” he ventured. “Do you know of Drake’s- That is…”
“The fire?” she asked brusquely, barely glancing up from the board. “I do.”
They each waited for the other to say more, making their moves on the board in silence. “Do you think that perhaps… Drake might have more right than I to be king?” Erryn asked. Drake’s earlier assurances had helped assuage some of his doubts, but he felt the need to hear someone else’s opinion.
“A castling of sorts,” said Maude, staring intensely at the board. She moved her rook and her king, altering the dynamic of the board and leaving the opposing side at a newfound disadvantage. She smiled in self-satisfaction, then returned her attention to Erryn. “How brilliant.”
Erryn felt a loss of breath. “Ah,” he said. “So you do think-”
“If I may,” Maude said. “I think that Drake would make a fine king. I would trust him in that role. But you, Erryn, will make an excellent king.”
“Oh,” Erryn said, a bit bashful now. He had not been asking for any overt praise.
Maude stood suddenly, and so Erryn did the same. “I’ll say goodnight,” said Maude.
“Wouldn’t you like to finish our game?” Erryn asked, gesturing to the board.
Maude only smiled. “I will have won in six moves. See for yourself, or leave all as it is and we can walk through it next time. Goodnight then.”
Erryn said goodnight, closed the door after her, and returned to the table. He walked around to each side, working through what he would have done. At last, he came to the conclusion that Maude certainly would have won.
CH 14: MATTERS OF THE HEART
Rolfe and Erryn had taken a picnic lunch to the stables as a surprise for Mr. Pelton. They had planned to make a day of it, but Mr. Pelton would have time for lunch and nothing more. They sat out in the grass, eating and reminiscing and watching the horses graze in the paddock. It made Erryn smile to see Rolfe and Mr. Pelton together, making familial jokes and eating messily.
When they had finished their entree, Mr. Pelton declined to indulge in dessert. “I’ll get back to work,” he told them. “You go on your ride and enjoy.”
Rolfe took it upon himself to ready the horses. Erryn waited outside the stables as he had done on the day they met. Rolfe emerged riding Heart of Endurance, Etiquette walking obediently beside. Erryn moved the remaining picnic items from the basket and placed them in one of the saddle bags, then attached the rolled picnic blanket. He then gracefully mounted his horse and patted its side. With a smile exchanged between them, they set a peaceful canter onto the eastern trail.
The terrain was gentler on the eastern side of the estate. The trails here were well-worn, but there was no risk in abandoning them altogether. The towering, leafy trees were hundreds of years old and dappled the forest’s warm light. Erryn took Etiquette off the trail, following the sound of a nearby stream. The water drifted lazily beneath them, and Erryn followed the direction of the water until the stream widened and curved toward more wild and thicketed land. Nestled into the bend of the water was a clearing dotted with several flowering bushes. Butterflies floated through the air.
“How perfect,” Erryn remarked, most pleased.
They dismounted, recovering their supplies and placing them on the ground. As Erryn rolled out the blanket, Rolfe gave Heart of Endurance an affectionate pat. “Do not wander far,” he told her, though he knew she would not. The horses were free to wander and graze nearby. The men sat down and arranged their dessert in front of them: candied walnuts, cherry truffles, and a complex sherry. “What a fine way to live,” Rolfe sighed contentedly, stretching out across the blanket and propping himself on an elbow, popping a truffle into his mouth.
Erryn handed him one of the small sherry glasses, then took a sip from his own. “It could be water and bread, and I would be happy to have you with me.”
Rolfe flashed a grin. “I confess,” he said, “I felt a certain gladness to learn that we would be alone this afternoon.”
“Do you miss Pelton terribly?” Erryn asked. “I should hate for the house to stifle you.”
Rolfe reached out and placed a comforting hand on Erryn’s forearm. “I am happy.”
They chatted about Rolfe’s work in the manner as they enjoyed the rest of their picnic. The chocolate of the truffles had gone a bit soft, and Erryn had some smudged on the corner of his mouth. Rolfe eyed it with a kind of ravenous hunger. “What is it?” Erryn asked, noticing Rolfe’s peculiar look. He lifted his hand to lick the remaining chocolate from his fingertips. Rolfe stiffened as he watched Erryn’s tongue caress his finger. He gestured for Erryn to lean closer, then took the back of his neck and kissed him. Erryn sighed with pleasure, then pulled back somewhat breathlessly. “Should we return to the bedroom?”
“Why wait?” Rolfe said, sitting up and pulling his shirt over his head then settling back down.
Erryn found this a bit scandalous and looked around the woods, but they were completely alone. Even so, such exposure left him feeling self-conscious. “For one,” he managed, “there’s this mess.” He gestured to the glasses and leftovers that still littered the blanket. As if to make a point, Rolfe took hold of a large candied walnut and tossed it into the bushes. Erryn scanned the woods again. “Alright,” he said, “but let us-”
Rolfe had begun to hastily move their dishes aside to the edge of the blanket, but his sherry glass tilted toward him and spilled over his exposed torso, then ran down and seeped into the blanket. He only chuckled at Erryn’s expression. “Alright,” he agreed, his palms forward in an appeal for humor. He got up, helping Erryn contain all of their items and setting them safely aside. “Any further objections, my prince?” he joked.
“Only your mouth,” Erryn replied.
“Well then allow me to earn your forgiveness.” Rolfe took hold of Erryn and kissed him again, his tongue warm and tasting of sweet dessert. With much enthusiasm, Erryn untucked his shirt and pulled it off, then pressed himself against Rolfe, desiring no space between them. Rolfe was sticky with sherry, and Erryn pulled away with a chuckle. Rolfe looked down at himself and touched a hand to his stomach. “Ah.” He motioned toward the stream with a mischievous grin. “Shall I rinse off? Care for a swim?”
Erryn shook his head and motioned for Rolfe to lie down on the blanket. Chuckling playfully, Rolfe obliged by stretching out across the ground. The blanket was warm against his back. Erryn got on his hands and knees, straddling Rolfe’s lower half. He lowered his head and kissed Rolfe’s naked chest. He tasted the sweet sherry, licking it off Rolfe’s pectorals, then his abdominals and around his navel. Rolfe hummed his approval. Erryn unfastened Rolfe’s pants, and Rolfe lifted his hips and slid them down, freeing his erection; it stood at attention, eagerly awaiting the prince’s next move.
Erryn lowered his head, pressing his tongue to the base of Rolfe’s shaft, then ran his tongue up the length, ending with a swirling motion around the tip. “Hah,” Rolfe huffed, a shiver running through him. He felt his muscles clench as Erryn’s warm mouth enveloped his cock and began to suck. Erryn moved up and down slowly, savoring the sensation. Rolfe could only take a minute of this before needing more of him—he pulled Erryn up to his level, kissing him and then rolling him over. Rolfe quickly removed the pants from around his ankles, then removed Erryn’s pants as well. Erryn expected Rolfe to stay below him, but Rolfe surprised him by moving around toward his head; Rolfe now straddled him in reverse, with his cock in Erryn’s face and Erryn’s in his.
Rolfe rolled them so that they were on their sides, each with a bent arm to support their heads. Rolfe then placed his free hand on Erryn’s hip and took Erryn into his mouth. Erryn tilted his head back and moaned, feeling Rolfe’s hard cock glide against his parted lips. He took hold of it then and guided it into his mouth, feeling it twitch and strain against his tongue. As they continued to pleasure each other, Erryn yet again felt a sense of awe at the things Rolfe showed him—this position, the way their bodies were made for each other, felt practically divine.
Erryn’s amazement was only heightened when Rolfe reached behind him and used a finger on his ass, circling in a slow, gentle pattern, applying light pressure. Erryn moaned again, gagging a bit on Rolfe’s cock, which only made each of them shudder with satisfaction. Rolfe moved his head back and spat on his hand, and when he moved it back, he inserted the tip of his finger. “Mnn,” Erryn moaned, a new sensation beginning to grow within him; his body had begun to feel hungry, and he found himself flexing against Rolfe’s finger as it moved in and out.
They continued in this manner until Rolfe repeated the process, spitting on his hand and then inserting a second finger. The pleasure was intensified, and Erryn began to find it difficult to focus on Rolfe’s cock over the growing desire to feel the pulse behind him. Rolfe managed three fingers before Erryn lost focus entirely, wrapping his top leg over Rolfe’s head and making small, quivering thrusts. Rolfe loved this, continuing his work with much enthusiasm until he felt that Erryn was nearing climax.
Rolfe pulled away from Erryn, getting to his knees. Erryn felt an instant, lusting desire to have Rolfe inside him once more. It was a curious form of emptiness, where Rolfe had been a sort of extension which made him whole. He turned onto his back to look up at Rolfe, who leaned down to kiss him passionately. Rolfe positioned himself between Erryn’s legs. He spat on his hand and rubbed it over Erryn’s stretched hole, then spat on his hand again and spread it over his own cock. Erryn was looking up at him, flushed, trusting, and eager, and Rolfe felt a surge of love and affection. As he pressed himself slowly against Erryn, he watched carefully to gauge Erryn’s reaction.
Erryn closed his eyes, moaning loudly and scrunching his nose as Rolfe slowly pressed inward. He worked ever so cautiously, his cock aching and twitching as Erryn’s warmth surrounded him. Finally, Erryn’s breath hitched, and he was over the initial strain, so Rolfe could begin to slowly move back and forth. Erryn whimpered as the early discomfort morphed into a newfound euphoria that was unlike anything else. The utter sense of fullness and completeness came from some primal, secret place of ecstasy and fulfillment.
With each thrust, they sank further into their desire and came closer to the edge of climax. Erryn lifted his long legs and wrapped them around Rolfe’s broad back. Rolfe lowered himself, resting on his elbows and moving his lips to Erryn’s throat. He caressed Erryn with his tongue, his hot breath at Erryn’s ear. Erryn’s breath had become erratic. Rolfe licked Erryn’s ear, making him shiver. “Come for me,” he grunted.
Erryn had lost all vision. With a cry of pure rapture, he writhed and arched against Rolfe, losing himself entirely. Rolfe drove deep, all thoughts escaping his head. He felt Erryn’s hot, wet hole convulsing around him, drawing from him. He felt all of Erryn’s bare skin pressed against him, warm and flush and damp with sweat. Sweet release had reached them both, and they shook and moaned and held each other in a loving embrace. They kissed tenderly, but they were too breathless and resorted to cuddling and catching their breath.
“Oh, Rolfe,” Erryn sighed happily. “I believe I have fallen for you completely.”
Rolfe laughed freely. “I had known it to be true, but what joy it gives me to hear you say so.” He looked at Erryn’s handsome, princely face and could not help but grin. “I shall give you my honest confession: I am in love with you, Prince Erryn Ephtas.”
Erryn felt that he could cry with happiness, but instead he placed a palm on Rolfe’s cheek and fell deeply into his cerulean eyes. “I love you, Rolfe.”
There were no words greater than this, so the men relaxed in silence for a time, listening to the sound of the water streaming by and watching the occasional butterfly overhead. When the light had shifted and the sun was on its decline, they prepared themselves to journey back to the manner. Rolfe whistled for the horses and they returned obediently. Erryn repacked the saddle bags, and they were off toward the stables at a comfortable canter.
When they returned to the manor, Rolfe went to check in with the staff. Erryn went to his bedroom to tidy himself up and change into more comfortable evening clothes. He thought he might do some reading, but he found that he had too much energy and couldn’t concentrate. Instead, he wandered the halls, finding himself at Lady Elena’s door. He knocked gently, unsure of what he might say to her.
She answered her door, looking a bit surprised. “Oh,” she said, not unpleasantly. “Is everything alright?”
Elena was in her robes, having also planned on changing for the evening. Her hair had taken on a slight wave as though it had been braided. Erryn held his hands up apologetically. “It’s nothing, really,” he assured her. “Only stopping for a chat. If this is an inconvenient time-”
“Not at all,” Elena replied, opening her door wide for Erryn to come in. He was surprised that she felt comfortable enough to allow him in while she was not fully presentable, but he did not wish to offend her, so he entered the room. Elena surprised herself by inviting him in, but it was true that she felt comfortable with him, and she had also wished for the two of them to talk.
She led him to the sitting area. On the table were several strands of ribbons which had been partially braided together in an unusual pattern. As Elena took her seat, Erryn did as well. “What are you working on?” he asked her, gesturing to the table.
Elena chuckled bashfully. “I am practicing my braiding,” she admitted. “I’ve not had much experience doing my own hair, but I’d like to be more skillful at it.”
“Maude is quite good with braids,” Erryn said thoughtfully. “I’m sure she would be happy to assist with your hair.”
Elena shook her head. “I wish to be self-reliant in this endeavor. I could not misuse Maude’s valuable time for my own fancy.” She gave Erryn a thankful look. “Although perhaps I might ask her to teach me a thing or two.” An awkward silence began to settle between them, and Elena shifted, resting an elbow on the arm of her chair. “What did you wish to chat about?” she asked.
“Oh, nothing in particular…” Erryn began, but he paused. He frowned at himself, then leaned forward. “Actually, Elena…” He rubbed his hands on his knees. “I owe you an apology. In my selfishness, I absconded from my responsibilities and allowed you to shield me at your own detriment.”
Elena was taken aback. She furrowed her brow, working to parse through her own feelings as well as Erryn’s. “I don’t know that I would belittle it as selfishness,” she offered graciously. She looked flustered. “Matters of the heart are grave matters indeed…”
Erryn looked at her with gratitude and some wonder. “You are too charitable. How much simpler it is for me to see the magnitude of your generosity now that I no longer need fear discovery.” He sighed. “I had not taken your kindness for granted, but I had not considered the full weight of its burden. In this regard I have been selfish. I am sorry, Elena.”
It warmed Elena’s heart to hear this, but her own seed of guilt now pitted itself in her chest. “Thank you, Erryn,” she said. “Truly. But please rest assured that you are free from reproach and are nothing but upstanding in my eyes.”
Erryn smiled, and they shared a moment of appreciative understanding. “Tell me,” Erryn said, “where would you like to go from here? It would be a sad thing to see you leave Ephtas. Whatever may come, know that I shall support you completely.”
“Is that so?” Elena said timidly. She wondered if she would be overstepping some bounds by telling Erryn the truth, but then she felt confident that Merit would take no issue with her honesty. “Then allow me to be truthful. By some twist of fate, I have found the potential for romance afterall.”
Erryn was rather stunned to hear this, but he was only supportive. “Really!” he exclaimed. “If it should keep you in Ephtas, I’d call it a blessing.”
Elena clasped her hands together, nervous and embarrassed. “I do hope you mean that,” she said, “for my heart has grown fond of King Merit.”
It was as though mechanical gears now strained to turn within Erryn’s head. “That is… an adjustment,” he said.
Elena looked worried. “Are you quite put off?”
Erryn shook his head fervently, putting her at ease. “No,” he said. “As I say, it’s an adjustment, that’s all.” He found he could do little but shrug. “I daresay Drake will find it stranger than I. Really, though, there is little to find offensive.” It wasn’t as though there had ever been any feelings between Erryn and Elena, and Erryn was mature enough to wish nothing but happiness for both Elena and Merit. He furrowed his brow. “Is this- that is…”
“Merit is well aware,” Elena answered, her face hot. She resisted the urge to cover her face with her hands.
Erryn only chuckled at Elena’s discomposure. “And why not?” he said unconcernedly. “He’s still in his prime, after all. More than that, he would age gracefully alongside you.”
Elena continued to blush. “I fear I haven’t the constitution for this,” she managed. “Shall we reconvene at a later time?”
“Of course,” Erryn said, standing and making his way to the door. Before exiting, he cast her another smile. He quoted her assurance back to her. “I am your ally.”
CH 15: TRANSPARENCY
Another day had passed, and work in the ballroom had resumed. The men joined the repair efforts, working up a sweat and spending time with the people of Sundry, who gave their sympathies for the loss of Curtis. Elena helped the kitchen staff with their heavy day of food preparation—they would be feeding all of the workers again, as well as preparing a standard dinner for the family and staff. Dolly commenced her new duties as head gardener, then came inside to help the maids however she could. Maude did a bit of everything, managing each project and stepping in where needed.
A second shift of workers arrived, and the family had time to bathe and change before dinner. Erryn was the last to arrive in the dining room, and it seemed that Merit had given his news to Drake. “-no objections from me,” Drake insisted. “Only allow me a moment to correct my thinking.”
“Then all is settled,” Merit said. Uncharacteristically, there was the smallest hint of embarrassment on his face. Elena and Drake were clearly more affected, smiling awkwardly at each other. Merit nodded to Erryn as he entered the room. “Well then,” he said, motioning for everyone to take their seats. “If I am correct, there stand no more great secrets lingering in these halls. I suggest we move forward in an effort to keep it so.”
“Agreed,” Elena said.
The table had become quite full; Dolly now sat by Drake’s side, and Maude had taken the end opposite King Merit, in Curtis’ old place. “I’ve been thinking on the subject of secrecy,” Rolfe said. “You say these halls now are open and honest,” he said, looking at Merit, “but it isn’t really so—not while the family still hides these things from public view.”
Merit gave Rolfe a thoughtful look. “And what pronouncement would you have me make?”
Rolfe fiddled with a piece of cutlery in front of him. “Not so much a pronouncement as an acquiescence to the facts.” He glanced at Erryn, then back at Merit. “Allow Erryn a life of transparency. Rid this estate of the shackles of tradition for procreation’s sake.”
Erryn placed a hand on top of Rolfe’s and squeezed it. “Curtis recently spoke to me about the dangers of expectations,” he said somewhat wistfully. “About walking a well-worn path out of a sense of obligation.”
“I heard the same, long ago,” Merit said. He looked at his son, and he was full of pride. “Erryn, I regret that the nature of your upbringing has resulted in anything other than surefooted self-possession. I say this to you as well, Drake. My insistence on kingdom before self has at times been harsh and unrelenting. I apologize for any harm I have caused. I invite you now to cast aside any burdensome thorns in this philosophy that do not align with your own judgment. The intent of these unyielding expectations was to raise you to a high moral standard; in this regard, I am incessantly proud of you both.”
The Ephtas men shared a look of familial love and pride, and the others looked on fondly. King Merit then cleared his throat. “To address your concern,” he said to Rolfe, “Maude and I have been discussing the future of Ephtas.” Maude nodded in agreement. “My primary concern before stepping down has been the certainty of the family lineage. As heir, it was a natural conclusion that Erryn would be the one to father a child. That said, we now find ourselves with a new Ephtas child on the way.”
A pregnant pause filled the room. Drake put a hand on Dolly’s back, then addressed his father. “You would give our child claim to the kingdom?” he asked, incredulous.
“I know not what the future holds,” Merit replied with the smallest shrug. “Only that if Erryn should never bring a child into this world, I can rest easy knowing that the Ephtas line has already continued.”
Erryn leaned forward. “Does… does that mean that you will grant me the crown without an heir? Without a marriage?”
Merit smiled at his son. “I have every confidence that your reign will be a boon for our people. And as for marriage, I leave that decision with you.” Erryn’s lips parted in a stunned exhale. He looked at Rolfe, who only grinned back. Erryn’s heart was full, and he didn’t have the words to express his contentment.
“How wonderful!” Dolly offered, pleased for them.
“What of Dolly?” Drake asked Merit, his hand still on her back. “You are prepared to formally recognize our child, but that requires formal recognition of Dolly, does it not?” She looked up at him with some nervousness; out of habit, she nearly reached for her hair, feeling the urge to conceal herself, but she clenched her fists and held them against her lap instead.
The king was contemplative. “I believe that with collaboration, we can keep her ancient blood hidden from any visiting Touched,” he said. “This goes also for Rolfe.”
“With all due respect,” said Dolly, “I hesitate to engage in a lifestyle which places my child at the forefront of public attention but requires a quiet secrecy of me. If I am to be the mother of an heir of Ephtas, then I must stand by their side without fear of recognition.”
Merit acknowledged her apologetically. “I understand these misgivings, but I give you my word that we will be your shield.”
“To be fair to Drake, he did rather well in this,” Erryn added to Dolly. “Had it not been for supernatural powers of perception,” he said, nodding toward Merit, “or Rolfe’s unannounced ancient blood catching you unaware, I venture that you may have gone undetected indefinitely.”
“It was a naive hope,” Drake argued. “Even when planning for Touched guests, there exists the possibility that she may be intercepted without one of us present.”
Erryn took a breath. “In Rolfe’s case,” he began, attempting to brighten the atmosphere a bit, “I believe discretion to be the only course of action.”
Rolfe nodded. “We’re in agreement,” he confirmed. “My nature invites only hostility from outward forces while I possess no great abilities of counterweight.”
Before the king could respond, Drake grunted in frustration on behalf of Dolly, not yet satisfied with the plan moving forward. Maude tilted her head at him. “Present your alternative,” she suggested. “Do you mean to make public Dolly’s identity?”
“I find it prudent,” he responded briefly.
Elena shook her head. She and Merit had spoken of unregistered Touched, and she had known at once that there was good reason that this class of individuals was kept a secret from the common blood. “Tradition would demand otherwise,” she said. “I confess that when I first learned of such undocumented cases of ancient blood, a certain envy did rise within me.” The others looked at her with some sympathy, which she ignored. “To those with common blood, the revelation that there are an unknown number of Touched living amongst us will come across as a kind of betrayal.”
Merit looked appreciatively at her, but Drake and Dolly were unconvinced. “The betrayal,” Drake argued, “is not the exposure of the lie, but the lie itself.” This gave the room some pause. “The very foundation of this society led by Touched nobility rests upon two assertions,” he went on. “First: that the Touched live long and learned lives, leading to stability and prosperity. Second: a longstanding and unquestioned prestige that is afforded to the Touched by virtue of their scarcity.” Drake placed both hands on the table in front of him and leaned forward, seeking to be heard. “If we are confident in the seeds we have sown, then we should trust in our people to know what is best—they will trust in us, or if they don’t, then it is we who have failed.”
“Veneration must be earned,” Erryn whispered, practically to himself.
Merit could not help but smile. Still, he took a measured breath. “Allow me to consider your proposal.”
It was difficult to transition to more lighthearted talk as they commenced with their meal, but the conversation eventually shifted to daily calendars and preparations for the shift in the weather. Overall, everyone felt more at peace and in line with each other than they had in some time; the most pressing issue remaining was the truth about Dolly. Merit would need some more time to think. He walked to his office after dinner, but as he sat in his armchair, he turned his head and realized he had half expected Curtis to be joining him.
Maude was the one who followed him now, and she announced herself politely behind him. “Come in,” he said wearily but with a friendly smile. She guessed his mood and went straight for the fireplace, lighting a fire. “Soon enough you won’t feel the need to ask permission to accompany me,” Merit jested. He gestured to the empty chair, inviting her to sit. He frowned slightly. “Or the need to do this yourself,” he added, motioning now to the fireplace.
Maude only smiled. “It’s no hassle,” she said, straightening herself. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll leave you to your own thoughts for tonight. You and I can talk things through with clearer minds tomorrow.”
The king nodded and smiled gratefully. “I appreciate your consideration,” he told her.
Merit was left alone to his thoughts for what might have been an hour, but to him it felt to be no more than the blink of an eye. He heard the door close and saw that Elena had entered. Her smile was coy and somewhat playful; it was an enticing expression. Merit grinned, some weariness leaving him. “A treat,” he said.
“I come with no treat to share,” she said, gesturing with empty hands and then clasping them behind her back, “for I know now that there is wine if we should need it.”
“Do you know,” said Merit, standing from his chair and walking to greet her, “I can’t recall when last I could not keep a smile from my face.” He held a hand out and she placed a hand in his. He kissed it gently, then led her to her chair by the fire. “Shall I pour us a glass?” he asked as she got comfortable.
“Only if you like,” she chuckled. “I was merely joking.” Merit sat down next to her, and she took a moment to observe his handsome face. “Truthfully,” she told him, “I wondered if you might be lonely here, without Curtis to discuss the day with.” Merit gave a small smile, and she felt that she had read him correctly. “I thought perhaps Maude may be here,” she went on. She sat a little straighter. “If you would prefer a night alone, please say so.”
“I had thought so,” he conceded, “but I find my outlook has shifted entirely.” He sat next to her, feeling the warmth of the fire and her presence besides. “So,” he sighed. “What is your opinion on the matter of Dolly?”
Elena crossed her ankles and looked thoughtful. “As I said, my initial response had been negative; there stands a high likelihood that others will feel the same. That said, Drake’s instincts are worth consideration.”
“Agreed,” Merit said. “Our actions and ethics have always been guided by servitude to the people—I regret that before now, I had not questioned how the common blood might view this code of secrecy. I have followed this law and kept it hidden.”
“You are amenable to change,” Elena pointed out. “Your own principles have kept Touched like Dolly alive and well. If you feel that those individuals should be granted a more visible life, I trust you are capable of overseeing such a change.”
Merit only smiled wistfully. “A visible life,” he said. “When phrased in such a way, how could one not see the value in it?” He ran a hand over his face. “It isn’t so simple. These Touched live in every kingdom under differing rulers. This reality has been a constant in every realm for centuries. Who am I to bring an end to such an ironclad mandate?”
“I see…” Elena thought aloud. “If the hidden affairs of the Touched become public knowledge, it may have negative consequences for the reign of the ancient blood. And if it were also widely known that Ephtas was the breaker of that trust, it could place the kingdom in the political crosshairs of the other noble families.”
“You recognize my dilemma,” said Merit. He saw her troubled look and wished to change the subject. “Ah,” he remembered, standing. “I found something you may enjoy.” He walked to his desk, where a thick book with weathered pages sat neatly in the far corner. Elena stood and followed him. “Here is a text that won’t be found in any library,” Merit said. He offered her the book and she took hold of it, examining the cover; it was blank, save for the faded name written in the lower right hand corner: Curtis.
“What is it?” she asked, opening the cover and beginning to skim the contents.
“A record of Curtis’ early days at the manor,” Merit answered. “If you are still interested in the history of the estate, I believe you will find this recounting to be an intimate look at the functioning of this house, a record of many on staff, and a personal insight into Curtis himself.” He smiled. “He was a good man.”
“I’d have liked to have known him better,” Elena said kindly. “I imagine this will be quite informative.” She crossed her arms, hugging the book against herself. “Thank you,” she said earnestly. “I look forward to it.”
Merit wanted to hug her then, to take her in his arms, but he resisted. “I’m glad,” he told her. He battled a frown. “I worry that as yet I still burden you with an uncertain future and an untidy list of my own troubles. Tell me how I may better serve you.”
Elena blushed. “Truly, I am happy more than anything to be here,” she insisted. She looked up at him somewhat shyly. “And if it pleases you, I shall keep you informed of my desires.” She seemed to think of something. “I will say,” she broached, “it did surprise me when you announced-” She wasn’t sure what her relationship with Merit ought to be called. “... Us…” she winced at her awkward delivery, “... to Drake before dinner.”
Merit nodded in understanding. “I am sorry if I spoke inelegantly or out of turn. You’d mentioned your earlier conversation with Erryn, and it seemed appropriate to speak with Drake to avoid any doubt or confusion.” He looked at Elena, at the way she clutched the book against her chest. “There is no expectation I ask you to fulfill,” he assured her. “Whatever this… arrangement may be.” A lock of her hair had begun to fall forward, and he reached up to brush it back behind her ear the way she often did. She blushed at the intimate touch, and he felt the tension take hold in his body. “We needn’t make any formal arrangement,” he softly promised.
“Not yet,” she whispered back, her eyes pulling him in like maelstroms.
He moved his hand to her chin, tilting her head up and staring deeply into her eyes. “Is this some practiced seduction,” he asked, “or are you truly some otherworldly siren sent to bewitch me?”
“If I were such a creature,” she said, her voice breathy as Merit lowered his head, just shy of kissing her, “and the blush across my cheeks was one of ancient blood, it would make sense of this extraordinary pull I feel while in your presence.”
He kissed her, causing her breath to catch. His passion had grown intense; he moved his hand from her chin to her upper back, pulling her close and entering her mouth with his tongue. “Mn,” she moaned, nearly dropping the book he had given her. With his free hand, he took hold of the book and pulled it away, placing it back on the desk. She had been holding the book against her, and as the back of Merit’s hand brushed against her chest, she let out another little moan. Cautiously, he returned his hand, gently brushing against her, fearful to overstep in his advances. But Elena only sighed with satisfaction, her chest rising and falling, rubbing against him.
“Is this alright?” he asked her, now using a finger to make slow circles, feeling her nipple stiffen beneath her dress.
“Alright?” she laughed quietly, her face pink. “With a simple touch, my desires to be valued for political strength and mental clarity become upended by something much more unladylike.”
“Your strength and acuity do not abandon you,” he replied. He lowered his head, kissing the space below her jaw. “You encompass all that I desire.”
She tilted her head back, pressing herself against him as he sucked at her neck and groped at her breast. “I have never felt so carefree,” she declared, placing her hands on Merit’s head, her fingers in his hair. “By your hand, I am a plaything.”
Merit practically grunted as he pulled her even closer, pressing himself against her as though he might consume her. How can she say such things, he wondered, without knowing her effect? Merit might as well have brought out the wine and drank it all himself for how drunk with lust she made him. He kissed her again, holding her with both hands at the back of her neck. He was so lost in this kiss that by the time their lips parted, he had not noticed as she had shrugged out of her dress and allowed it to fall to the floor. She now stood in only her chemise, with nothing underneath. The silk fabric clung to her in a way that would make a master of oil painters blush and close his sketchbook.
He stepped beside her, turning her and lifting her so that she sat on the edge of the desk. Her legs were now parted, her thighs around his hips as he leaned toward her, kissing her as he ran his hands up and down her thighs, causing her to shiver. She felt the erection pressing against her and could scarcely believe that this was not just a dream she had conjured after all her yearning. Merit shared similar thoughts.
He hesitated, having reached a line with Lady Helm he hadn’t dreamt possible to cross. “I must be assured that I do no wrong by you,” he said quietly. “By my estimation, you ought to be on a bed of roses.” She chuckled at that, and he joined her, tilting his head forward and resting his forehead against hers. His hair fell forward, tickling her temples. “I should feel a proper brute, defiling you in such a crude setting.”
She kissed his forehead, then used a hand on each side of his face to brush his hair back behind his pointed ears, marveling at the feel of them. “By all means,” she said. “Defile me.”
It was all Merit could take. With one swift movement, he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside. He squeezed her thighs as she bent forward and kissed his naked torso, exploring this new level of intimacy. Her hands found the crotch of his pants, and he didn't know what to make of her prowess other than to enjoy it thoroughly. She stroked over the fabric a few times, getting a feel for the thickness and length. Merit then bent down, removing his pants and kicking them aside.
He was stripped before her, more unguarded than he had been in quite some time. She wrapped her legs around his hips and lifted her arms up, clasping her hands behind his neck, pulling him closer. His erection now protruded beneath the hem of her chemise and pressed against her, and they both gasped at the pulse of heat and pleasure that rushed through them. He leaned forward, lowering her until she laid with her back against the desk. He ran his hands along her body, feeling her curves. With small, oscillating movements, he rubbed himself against her, feeling how wet and warm she was—how ready.
Slowly, carefully, he began to push inside. Elena moaned, biting her lip and gazing up at Merit with a look of such desire that he felt his heart might leap out of his chest. She was pure perfection. He wanted to worship every part of her.
She had liked the way he’d touched her breast, so he massaged them now with firm and steady hands. “Ohh,” she sighed, closing her eyes and tilting her head back. With both hands she grabbed the neckline of her chemise, pulling it down to bare her chest. Her hands then found his and rested overtop, encouraging him to press and to squeeze her naked body. She began to writhe beneath him, setting the tempo of this lovemaking and starting them down the path to the peak of pleasure.
Merit gyrated his hips, his breath erratic as he attempted to pace himself. Elena was too beautiful, too brilliant, too perfect. She had quickly become a constant desire in his mind, and now he was utterly lost in that devotion. All rationality escaped him as the emotional and physical pleasure became all-consuming, and Elena felt just the same.
A guttural moan overtook her—a sound most unladylike and improbable from Elena Helm—and she moved her hands back over her head to grip the far edge of the desk. Instinctively, Merit thrust quickly, driving her over the edge. As her chest heaved up and down at the height of climax, he buried himself as deep as he could, bursting into her and leaving them both panting and quivering with satisfaction.
With shaky, satisfied sighs, they looked at each other and gave tired, happy smiles. Merit leaned down and kissed her deeply, feeling renewed. She embraced him, thankful to be exactly where she was.
CH 16: PLANTING SEEDS
Drake lifted the collar of his coat to better shield himself from the evening chill. It was another cool day, the first few leaves of autumn beginning to catch their color. He rode along with the guards escorting the traitorous Mr. Tropin to his brother’s noble estate. He had been granted a stay of execution, and now Drake would deliver him directly to the Tropin house and leave the problem with them. In many ways, this was a merciful act for someone guilty of espionage, but this had been a calculated decision on behalf of Ephtas.
Mr. Tropin was a dour-looking man who carried a lifetime of bitterness on his face. He still wore his fisherman’s cap from his days working on the docks; it had a wide brim that lowered toward the back to protect one’s neck from the wind and the sun. This had offered concealment for his ears as he worked within Ephtas. He rode the trail on his own horse, but he was surrounded by Ephtas guards and had no hope of escape. Dolly had also come along, and she rode in a covered wagon for comfort. It made Drake nervous to bring her, and he kept close to the wagon, never putting too much distance between them. Whenever they took a break on the trail and the two would stretch their legs and chat quietly together, Tropin eyed them with curiosity and some disdain. After one such occasion, Drake gave Dolly a quick kiss before helping her back into the wagon.
When the horses got moving again, Drake pulled back a bit to talk with Tropin. “Why the surly expression?” he asked, his tone light. “Surely you’ll be glad to keep your life. I argued on your behalf, I’ll have you know.”
Mr. Tropin only grimaced. “Fuck off, prince,” he muttered. “You’re no better than me.”
Drake frowned. “You resent my station,” he said with an understanding nod. “It’s hardly fair, is it? You were fortunate enough to be born Touched, but unlucky enough to have no legitimate standing.” Tropin just grunted. “Your real crime is treason. You would have been left alone if not for your foolish and dangerous reconnaissance.”
“Fuck off,” Tropin repeated.
Drake let out a huff of air. He was out here with Mr. Tropin with a goal in mind, and so now he put on a show of being indignant. Though in his heart he felt sorry for Tropin, for the injustice of his abandonment, he must now sacrifice Tropin for the future of all Touched. This plan had undergone much deliberation, and it brought no one joy. “Very well,” Drake said, his voice infused with insincere anger. “That is the last kindness I shall offer you.” He began to move his horse forward, leaving Tropin behind. He looked back over his shoulder and added, “Hate me with your whole being—it will not make you any less small and insignificant.”
It was Dolly who would play a part for Mr. Tropin next. During their next stop, she checked in with Drake, feeling Tropin’s eyes on her all the while. Drake then walked to the front of the group, speaking jovially with one of the guards. Dolly wandered backward, seemingly lost in thought. By the time she reached Mr. Tropin and the guards surrounding him, Drake was too far to shield her ancient blood from Tropin’s notice. She gasped as she looked up at him, brushing out her hair and beginning to scurry away.
“Wait!” Tropin commanded. A guard put an arm out in warning, but Mr. Tropin stayed where he was, glaring at Dolly. She waited, looking like a frightened deer. “You are Touched.” Dolly’s eyes grew wide. Tropin looked at the surrounding guards, but they did not offer a reaction; King Merit had made all clear to them before their departure. Mr. Tropin grit his teeth in rage. “A conspiracy!” he growled. How dare the royalty of Ephtas disregard the illegality of this woman, all the while exiling him in persecution?
Prince Drake heard the commotion and began to march in their direction. Dolly exhaled, steeling herself as she looked at Drake, then back at Mr. Tropin. She forced a false sneer onto her face, then brushed her hair behind her ears to give him a good look. “How sad for you,” she said. She turned away quickly, grimacing with remorse as she walked away from him.
Tropin lunged toward her with a yell, but the guards yanked him back. As Tropin screamed and cursed at Dolly, Drake passed her, reaching Tropin and meeting him with a fist to his face. This was not in Drake’s nature, but in defending Dolly, Tropin was lucky Drake hadn’t burst into a ball of flame. Leaving Tropin with the guards, Drake hurried back to Dolly, who had climbed back into the wagon. He joined her inside for a moment, placing a hand on her cheek.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
She nodded timidly. “Yes,” she said. “I’m glad to be done with it.” Drake kissed her forehead, then left her in the security of the wagon.
They reached the Tropin estate, which was ostentatious and altogether garish, in Drake’s opinion. He gave a parting warning to his charge. “Return to Ephtas and you are a dead man.”
He then met with the official Mr. and Mrs. Tropin, who were pale and rigid with guilt as the Ephtas guards discreetly delivered their disheveled brother to them. Drake oozed friendliness, but the implication was clear: Your scheme has been discovered—be thankful for our mercy.
Their duty done, Drake and Dolly left and returned for Ephtas. At minimum, Tropin would not be returning to cause any more trouble. The Tropin family proper could be counted on to keep their heads down and disengage from any further disorder. They might resort to eliminating the disgraced brother themselves out of fear or anger, but more than likely, they would wash their hands of him, denouncing him entirely. Their estate was quite near the border of Umbris; it would be a short, easy journey into new territory, where no one would know him or care too greatly about these foreign affairs.
This calculation was what came to pass. Late into the night, Mr. Tropin burst through the doors of a brewhouse in an Umbris bordertown. He’d been roughed up, exhausted, and shamed, and his foul mood billowed into the place like a particulate cloud. His brother had given him a small satchel of money—As if it makes us even, he thought—and now Tropin planned to drink it all away.
“You look to have had a rough night,” said a woman who sat alone at a table facing the door. She smiled sympathetically. “I could buy you a drink?”
Tropin considered for a moment. He was unused to any sort of kindness, but had little money to begin a new life, and he saw no harm in accepting a free drink. Even better, the woman at the table was his sort of type—a young redhead. Her hair was in an asymmetrical plait, the kind of decorative updo you might see inside of a noble house. Perhaps she worked for some nearby noble. Perhaps she could get him a job in this town. He nodded, sitting across from her. “Thanks,” he grumbled.
Maude smiled, gentle and encouraging. “What brings you here?” she asked. She gestured for the barkeep, who carried over a pitcher of beer and an extra mug.
With quiet coaxing, Maude persuaded Tropin to speak more, then drink more. He gratefully accepted beer after beer, quickly losing count as he began to treat Maude as a confidante for his tale of woe. He told her of the injustice he had faced, growing angrier by the minute. Patrons began to eye him wearily as he shouted about the Touched and their deceit. Maude asked him pointed questions, until finally he declared that some secret, undocumented woman—Touched—was sleeping with a prince, even though her kind was illegal.
“You jest!” Maude laughed. “Touched are nobles, not tramps!”
“Not all!” Tropin shouted. “There are more than we know. Living in shadow.”
“Touched are rare, friend,” Maude insisted. “Perhaps you’ve had too much to drink.” She reached for her coat, preparing to leave for the evening.
“I will not be ignored!” Tropin raged. He swept his arm across the table, sending beer spilling to the floor. Several patrons now approached, at the ready to intervene. “Nobles lie! Their rarity is overestimated so as to keep control over those deemed as lesser!” He spat onto the ground, hate in his heart.
“Very well,” Maude replied meekly. “I believe you.” Her tone was insincere, placating.
At his wit’s end, Troping yanked the cap from his head, revealing his pointed ears to the room full of onlookers. “See now that I tell the truth!” he demanded. “All you’ve been told is a lie!”
Several men now came forward with questions for Mr. Tropin. They were hesitant to believe what this drunkard avowed, but the point of his ears could not be mistaken. Tropin was relieved to have anyone receptive to his words. He looked around at the other patrons in a moment of satisfaction. He looked for the redheaded woman, but she was nowhere to be found.
Beginning that morning, rumors of a scheme amongst the Touched began to spread within Umbris. The idea of such a grand lie spread discontent and planted the seed of resentment. Citizens began to speculate about certain quiet, unassuming individuals who hadn’t seemed to age in the last decade. It would take some time for any actual movement to grow, but the groundwork in Umbris had been laid.
Meanwhile, Ephtas surprised its own citizens with an open and honest approach. King Merit had already held an audience with the volunteers rebuilding the ballroom, as well as a gathering of townspeople in the Sundry town square. He told them the truth of the Touched in its entirety, and when he had spoken to all he could, he also sent out royal notice to the farther reaches of his kingdom.
Honored citizens of Ephtas,
Long have I labored to ensure the safety, prosperity, and happiness of all citizens, considering my role to be merely the caretaker of what you, the people, work so admirably to build and maintain. I hope that during this tenure I have impressed upon you the sincerity with which I hold you in such esteem. Know that I always have and always will place kingdom before self, much as I know my people would do the same.
It is with this in mind that I must inform you of a freshly recognized neglect on my part. With blind eyes, I did unquestioningly uphold a tradition that has existed for some centuries past. As it had been described to me, the assumed roles afforded to the Touched were manifest. I tell you now this isn’t so.
Longevity of kinghood may indeed bring wisdom and increased stability; I would suggest that to be true, but I will find your collective voice to be a more accurate measure of success than my own opinion.
What necessarily comes into question is any undue preference for Touched rule by thinking them to be rarer and more precious than they are. These lives are precious as those of common blood are precious. No more, no less. Ancient blood has faded with time, and while the Touched are far from numerous, they are not, in truth, as scarce as tradition would have you believe. Royal families have been kept smaller than necessary by choice, the intention being to fabricate artificial scarcity and bolster this sense of unattainable otherworldliness.
I put it to you as my sons so rightly put it to me: if we would not be worthy of your regard without the circumstances of ancient blood, then we are no more worthy now. I ask my people with an open heart to speak honestly as to the state of Ephtas. If I have honored you, done right by you, then I shall continue my course with an upright zeal. If I have not earned that right, then Ephtas Manor and all it contains shall forfeit my hands, were it ever truly mine to possess.
Your Servant,
King Merit Ephtas
CH 17: 33 WEEKS LATER
The ballroom was as lively as Erryn had ever seen it; ancient and common blood, nobles and citizens alike had all gathered to celebrate his crowning. It was still an adjustment, standing in front of the realm and presenting himself in his entirety without reservation. Even so, his apprehension was overwhelmed by the excitement, gratefulness, and joy in his heart. He ate, mingled, and danced merrily with all in attendance—those who had seen fit to embrace him as their steward.
The kingdom of Ephtas had been a contented, positive place to live since before Erryn’s birth, but it now lived in a new era of enthusiasm looking toward the future. Following Merit’s announcement to the people, the Ephtas men had not been certain of their position in the eyes of their citizens. Much to their relief and everlasting honor, they had been met with understanding and respect. To the people of Ephtas, it was evident that these were good and honest men. They had never done wrong by their citizens, and they were loved.
This was a contrast to the reception in Umbris and elsewhere. As Queen Phedra had once warned against, nobles in foreign lands had reigned in complacency. Beyond the expected nationalistic pride, their citizens felt no particular warmth or familiarity with their sovereigns. The realization that their leaders adhered to an elitist attitude and veiled themselves in secrecy was disillusioning and led to disturbance. This had become a thorn in the side of many kingdoms, and they still waged internal battles of publicity.
What frustrated those lands was Ephtas’ ability to come through these revelations with a positive public image. Knowledge of illicit Touched and the surrounding cover-up had spread from Umbris to beyond with such speed that in the last few months, it seemed as though the world had come to this realization overnight. That the kingdom of Ephtas remained without discontent could only be explained by luck. Any announcement made to the people of Ephtas must surely have come in the wake of accusation, not before. To think that such a predominant and esteemed family of ancient blood would upend such sacred historical precedent was inconceivable.
Nevertheless, the Ephtas men continued to be celebrated. As Erryn finished a conversation with a nobleman from Illamette, he took a moment of repose, standing near the wall and looking out over the room with great satisfaction. He caught sight of his brother moving about the ballroom floor, dancing gingerly with Dolly in his arms. She had given birth a few weeks ago and was still on the mend, but she beamed radiantly as Drake continued to sweep her off her feet. Erryn admired the man Drake had become. His devotion to Ephtas was surpassed only by his devotion to his bride-to-be and to their daughter. Erryn was about to walk toward the front of the ballroom, to where his niece was being fawned over, but he paused in place as a chalice of wine was held out for him.
“My king.” It was Maude, smiling sincerely and handing him the crystal chalice. “Congratulations,” she said.
“Thank you,” Erryn replied, accepting her offering and taking only a measured sip of wine. It was his vintage, brought out again for this momentous occasion. It tasted better than before, but Erryn would pace himself. He noted Maude’s empty hands. “None for yourself?” he asked her.
She shook her head. “I find myself fatigued,” she divulged with a chuckle. “This last week I have done more than my part in finishing your father’s wine selection.”
“Indeed,” Erryn agreed, having also partaken in much wine over the last few days. Merit’s retirement had allowed for the last of his own vintage to be shared with all in the house, and many were feeling sluggish, though without complaint.
“Not all are as ill-equipped for prolonged celebration as you and I,” Maude said jovially. Erryn raised an eyebrow. Maude smiled fondly. “The kitchen staff in particular have had a rather rambunctious week.”
“And why not?” Erryn said. “They’ve worked hard in this week’s preparations.”
“Of course,” said Maude. “They’ve been no trouble.” She chuckled again. “And by fate,” she said, nodding toward Rolfe’s eager approach, “here is trouble now.”
Erryn grinned as he saw Rolfe coming his way. Rolfe held his own chalice of wine; he’d had no issue with the sustained celebration of the week. “By my heart,” said Erryn, “this is a trouble worth having.”
Maude clicked her teeth in teasing, faux disapproval. Rolfe reached them then, his eyes alight with the celebration of the night. “Come,” he said, extending a hand to Erryn, “let us dance.”
Erryn hesitated briefly, feeling the eyes of the kingdom upon him. But Maude took his chalice from his hand and took Rolfe’s as well. She nodded for Erryn to go out onto the floor, and as Erryn looked back at Rolfe, he could not help the smile from reaching his face. “Yes,” he said, a fluttering excitement in his chest.
Together they walked to the center of the room. The music that played was a smooth mid-tempo—not overly sultry but an uplifting, romantic waltz. “I shall follow your lead,” Rolfe said quietly, his expression playful.
Erryn grinned, taking Rolfe’s arms in his. They set into motion, and everything around them seemed to fade away as they danced into their own world. “How I had longed to dance with you like this,” Erryn said, squeezing Rolfe’s hand. To be here with Rolfe gave a sense of completeness, and Erryn did not notice or care about keeping the perfect timing or form; he simply felt the music and the joy within himself and allowed the two of them to exist freely in this moment.
“I feel this way in all things,” Rolfe told him. “To dance, to ride, to be next to you always… I long for a lifetime.”
They danced and spun and laughed, all the while feeling the magnetic pull between them growing stronger. When the music ended and the dance came to a close, Rolfe pulled Erryn into a warm embrace, kissing him sweetly. Erryn was lost in this moment, then pulled away, and when he remembered where they were, his ears grew warm with embarrassment—not for his love for Rolfe, but for a public display of affection which was a bit untoward during this occasion. Still, the realization that he could now freely express himself was surreal and affirming.
They left the center of the floor, heading toward the entrance, where the rest of the family mingled. Merit and Elena stood together, looking elegant and exuding a relaxed and comfortable energy. Elena wore her ear cuffs, which had been resized to fit snugly over the natural curve of her ears. Drake and Dolly were here with them, and Dolly now cradled little Wisteria in her arms. Wisteria saw Erryn and cooed, reaching toward him with a chubby arm.
“At your command,” said Erryn with a smile. Dolly passed Wisteria to him, lifting his elbow to adjust his hold. He looked into her bright, smiling face and felt the weight of the future in his arms. “Little princess,” he cooed. She had dark hair and hazel eyes like those who had come before her. She looked like the future Queen of Ephtas.
“Precious petal,” Rolfe admired, placing an arm around Erryn and leaning close. “You are perfect.”
Erryn tilted his head, rocking her gently back and forth. “Perfection is overvalued,” he whispered to her, kissing her forehead. “You on your own are more than enough.”
Touched:
BLACK Edition
SPICY | OPEN DOOR
Thank you for reading! What are your thoughts?
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I'd love your feedback! Specifically, I'm interested to know about overall content/pacing (Does this feel good as a novella, or should it be expanded into a book? Does it feel rushed, or is the pacing appropriate?) and respectfulness/comfortability of erotic scenes.