Marie Harte - Gale Season

Aerolus stared thoughtfully at Arim. Something in his uncle’s tone told him he spoke from experience. Curiosity blossomed, but he knew now was not the time.

Alandra moaned softly and shifted, capturing his attention once more. He mentally recounted what he’d seen and knew. A large ball of pale-blue energy. Aellein royalty. Wings . He paused and stared down at the petite whirlwind of energy. His affai had wings. And she could increase and decrease her size at will. It seemed every time he turned around he learned something new about her.

“I will think on what you’ve said,” he told Arim, his voice low, thoughtful. “Now if you don’t mind, I’d like some time with Alandra, alone.”

Arim nodded. “I have to reconstruct the house’s protection spell anyway, that and put out more feelers for your brother.”

Aerolus shook his head. “The protection spell is fine. I shielded her through it, purposefully. And Cadmus,” he paused, not wanting to tell Arim what he suspected just yet. “I think Cadmus has a few issues to resolve before he returns.” He met his uncle’s gaze with a steady one of his own. “I don’t believe the Djinn taint you sense in him is what it seems.” At least I hope it’s not.

Arim paused, his gaze oddly piercing. Then he turned his stare to Alandra, a thoughtful look on his face. Expecting him to demand answers, Aerolus was surprised when his uncle turned and left the room.

Letting out a breath he wasn’t aware he’d been holding, Aerolus approached the bed and glanced down at his affai . A slow, winding warmth lit in the vicinity of his chest.

So beautiful, so sweet, and all mine.

He lay down beside her on the bed. She stirred, and he placed a kiss on her lips, lulling her back to rest.

“Aerolus,” she mumbled and smiled, curling towards him. Her T-shirt—his actually—hampered her mobility. With a wave of his hand he made it disappear, and before she could tempt him beyond reason, he closed his eyes.

“ Affai,” he replied and tucked her close, pleased when a touch of her magic wrapped around him. He could literally feel her aura fitting itself to him, moulding and merging with his. Oddly enough, he didn’t feel the least threatened.

Despite being used to his brothers’ constant presence in his life, Aerolus rarely felt at peace with anyone outside of his family. Yet within just a few days of being with Alandra, he felt comfortable, even safe, with her.

To a point , his conscience demanded.

Sighing, not wanting to dwell on their trust issues he had yet to address, not to mention the ‘small’ matter of her being his affai, he settled her closer to him. If only love and trust went hand in hand.

He drifted off to sleep debating how soon, if at all, to tell her what was growing in his heart.

The Aellein court was in session, beauty abundant in the pale-haired, magic-blessed, striking nobles of the shadowed race. Amidst a flowered clearing surrounded by massive green-and blue-leafed trees, whose canopies interlocked to provide shelter from the warm sun, the slender, devious nobles of the Aellei gathered. A horseshoe of rilk-wood tables surrounded a small stage in the middle of the grassy clearing, and all attention was centred there.

Queen Lidra occupied the throne on the large dais, upon which several tomes sat, volumes dedicated to preserving the Aellein way of life with rules, laws, and, being Aellein, the varied loopholes designed to avoid such legalities.

B’alen Van Nostren stood in an obscured section of trees as he watched the treacherous creatures debate with a zeal that made their work appear as play. They cursed one another, danced merrily with words and continued to skirt the one issue he’d been called to witness. Had he not been pressed to resolve the matter, he might have enjoyed their banter instead of viewing it with annoyance.

At least two dozen men and women from the ancient houses of Aelle occupied the court, a dazzling spectacle of blinding white magnificence, outshone only by Queen Lidra, the most glorious Aellei of them all.

He eyed her hungrily, knowing that soon he would have her again. Such a vain creature, like most of her kind, yet she truly deserved the banquets and statues made in her image, or at least the image she preferred to show her subjects, he reminded himself. The Aellei were, as he well knew, master illusionists.

Long, white hair fell to her hips, hips that swayed with a latent sensuality when she moved. Lidra was slimmer than those he normally used, but she was so very talented with those hands, that mouth. Her eyes were glittering blue gems, similar to the blue fire his kind could harness and shape to whatever suited them.

Her magic pulsed like a second skin, drawing him further into her trap the longer he looked at her. Clever girl , he thought, a twisted grin curling his lips when she subtly glanced over her shoulder and winked at him.

He appreciated a mature woman, one who knew her worth and that of those around her. Lidra might appear a young beauty without a care in the world, but B’alen knew better. She was in fact a thousand years old and had plenty of worry at her door. She’d seen her captain, Zartic, before the man had had a chance to drink from the healing well. Though he’d tried to mask his bruises, the Der warrior was in no shape to fool his queen, or her Dark Lord.

Not pleased that his efforts to regain what he needed continued to fail, B’alen sent an internal warning to the queen that had her shifting uneasily in her seat.

“That is enough for today,” she said, holding up one hand. “It is obvious none of you understand the harm her disappearance may cause. Alandra must be handled, and it must be done immediately.” She glanced at Zartic, who stood straight, a shadow of guilt in his gaze.

“We’ll reconvene when the moon rises. If you haven’t collectively decided on a course of action by then, I’ll make the decision for you.”

A tall, older-looking nobleman stood scowling. Surprising for one of his kind, Lord Sava apparently didn’t mind looking his age, and his lined face and thinning hair only added to his air of wisdom and uniqueness among the Aellei.

At a glare from Lidra, Lord Sava shut his mouth and surprised B’alen by glancing knowingly at his hiding place. Then Sava regarded the gathering with a huff of irritation.

“Well, Aellei, let us adjourn to my tower to discuss our best chance of getting Alandra back.” He shot Lidra an angry look. “Shadow knows what will happen to the young ‘criminal’ if we don’t come up with a means to return her home.”

Small popping noises sounded as one by one, the council teleported to Sava’s tower. B’alen, finally seeing the queen alone but for Zartic, exited his hiding place.

“I must say, I don’t think Sava likes you, sweet.”

She tossed her head, her hair waving behind her in a stream of white gold. “Sava’s a thorn in my side, has been for centuries. For some reason he’s taken a liking to Alandra, refusing to believe she’s turned traitor to Aelle.”

“Then perhaps Zartic could show him the harm she can cause.” He waved his hand, and Zartic’s healed face reverted to the bruised flesh from before.

The Der warrior winced, his throbbing cheeks and split lip bleeding as if he’d just encountered Arim. “Your Majesty,” he said in a cold voice. “Though I agree Alandra’s place is here, I cannot see how she could be at fault for what the Light Bringer did.”

“B’alen?” Lidra murmured, stroking her lip idly.

“She is in league with them, you fool,” B’alen snarled, aggravated the queen would have him explain himself to a mere soldier. “Why do you think she left Aelle? Because she attempts to rally your kind to aid the Light. The Light , captain,” he said with disdain.