“We shall take one,” said Sylvanna. “My friend is in no condition to go anywhere tonight.”
She paid for the room, then helped Aedan upstairs, supporting him with his arm around her shoulder.
“Where are we going?” he slurred.
“To get you to bed,” Sylvanna said.
“I’m perf’ly able t’go home,” he mumbled.
“No, you’re not,” she said. “You couldn’t walk twenty yards without passing out.”
“Mmmph. Maybe not.”
“Come on, pick your feet up.”
They reached the top of the stairs, and she helped him down the corridor until they reached their room. She kicked the door open and helped him in, then put him down on the dilapidated straw bed. The furnishings were sparse. Merely a chair, a washstand with a battered metal washbasin and pitcher, some blankets, a few candles, and a chamberpot. Sylvanna lit the candles, then started to undress him.
She pulled off his boots, then unfastened his breeches and pulled them down. He lay back, breathing heavily, but still awake.
Tome on, sit up,” she said, pulling on his arms so she could take his tunic off. “Hold your arms up,” she said. As he did, she pulled off his tunic and tossed it aside. His arms came down around her.
“I love you,” he said.
She looked at him. “I know.”
She eased him back down onto the bed, then stripped off her own clothes and got in beside him. He snuggled up against her. She pulled the blankets over them and put her arms around him. He kissed her ear and whispered, “I want you.”
She kissed his lips. “Then have me,” she said softly.
And when they were done, he held on to her tightly and cried himself to sleep.
4
“You did not come home last night,” Gylvain said.
“No.”
“You were with Aedan.”
She hesitated only slightly. “Yes.” Her gaze met his, defiant, challenging. He sighed. This was not going to be easy.
“Do you have any idea what you’re doing?” he said.
“I knew exactly what I was doing.”
“Did you? Need I remind you that we are guests here, serving the purposes of a sensitive political alliance? Perhaps Aedan has forgotten. Eight years is a long time for a human, after all. After such a time, things begin to take on a sense of permanence for them. But when this war is over, we are returning to Tuarhievel, and it is entirely possible the time will come when the humans shall be our enemies again.”
“Aedan Dosiere shall never be my enemy,” Sylvanna said. “And when this war is over, I shall not be going back with you. Unless you plan to force me. I know I am no match for your power.”
Gylvain sighed and shook his head. “I would never wish to force you to do anything against your will. You know that, or you should. But you are not thinking clearly.”
“I am not confused. I love him. And he loves me. I can give him what he needs.”
“No,” said Gylvain, sadly, “you cannot. I sensed that this was coming, but I had hoped you would know better. You are an elf, and he is human. You could never give him what he needs. You could satisfy his desires in bed, but even if that was all there was to your relationship, it would be most unwise. Suppose he gets you with child? Do you know what it is like for half-elves in human society?”
“The soldiers accept us,” she replied.
“Because we have fought with them, side-by-side, for eight long years and earned their respect,” said Gylvain. “But do you recall what it was like in the beginning? Think how long it took for us to earn that acceptance, and we had to earn it with our blood. Bring a half-elf child into the world and it will be no different for him or her.”
“You could prepare a potion for me that would prevent me from conceiving,” she said.
“Yes, I could,” he agreed. “And I shall, if you insist on persisting with this folly, but think what you are doing, little sister. Even if it turns out to be no more than an affair of short duration, it will be difficult if not impossible for the two of you to be discreet. Such things always have a way of getting out. Aedan is second only to the emperor in this regime. He is a blooded noble, and you are an unblooded elf. An affair between you would only bring him trouble. It would be cause for scandal. He must wed a blooded noblewoman one day and perpetuate his bloodline. He must sire a male child who will become the lord high chamberlain to the next Emperor of Anuire. A half-elf child would be unacceptable in such a post and would only taint the bloodline.
“You are just a child yourself,” Gylvain continued, “but by human standards, you are old enough to be his mother. He may not care, but others will make much of it. You say that you can give him what he needs. Well, in that regard, the needs of humans when it comes to love, true love, are much the same as ours. They need someone they can grow old with. Together. And that is something you can never give him. If you bind your life to his, you will watch him age and die, and it will happen more quickly than you realize. It will only break your heart, Sylvanna.”
“What do you know of such things?” she replied angrily. “You chose celibacy so that you could pursue your craft! Because you have never loved, you wish to deny me the chance to find some happiness, if only for a little while?”
Gylvain approached her and took her by the shoulders gently. “No, I would never wish to deny you anything. Except pain.”
“Then prove it.”
Gylvain sighed deeply. “Very well. I shall prepare a potion for you that will keep you from conceiving a child. If I cannot talk some sense into you, then the very least that I can do is help you take some sensible precautions. But I do not approve of this, Sylvanna, and I fear you will come to regret it. Both of you.”
* * * * *
There was a knock at Laera’s door. “Enter,” she said. Maelina, one of the palace servants, came in hesitantly.
“I have brought some news, Your Highness,” she said, curtsying deeply and looking down demurely.
“What is it?” Laera asked.
Maelina was one of her paid informants in the palace. The girl had no idea Laera was spying for Lord Arwyn; she believed Princess Laera was merely trying to keep abreast of palace gossip and court intrigue. There was nothing unusual in that. Laera knew she was not the only one at court who bribed the servants to report on what their masters and mistresses were doing. Maelina would never suspect a thing.
“It concerns Lord Aedan, Your Highness. You said you were particularly interested in him.”
“Indeed,” said Laera, putting down her embroidery. “No one ever tells us women anything,” she added. “We must strive to find things out for ourselves. We women of the palace must stick together. What have you learned, my dear?”
Maelina beamed at being included with the princess among the “women of the palace.” It made her feel like a confidante, almost a friend. “Well,” she said, lowering her voice in a conspiratorial manner, “he did not sleep in his room last night. When I came to change his bedclothes this morning, they had not been disturbed.”
“Really?” said Laera, leaning forward as if enjoying some salacious bit of gossip. “Where did he sleep then?”
“I do not know for certain, Your Highness, but I made a few inquiries among the other servants and learned he left the palace last night to go to a tavern known as the Green Basilisk. He had left word he could be reached there if the emperor had need of him. That tavern is said to be a most disreputable place. I have never been there myself, of course, but one hears that it is a gathering place for all sorts of lowlifes—artists and the like.”
Laera shrugged. “So he went out to do some drinking away from the nobles of the court,” she said. “After the hardships of the campaign he just returned from, that would be perfectly understandable. He must have had too much to drink and simply took a room to sleep it off. Nothing much of interest there.”