Eresse
ISBN 978-1-59578-954-9
When all else comes to naught, a steadfast heart is the only thing that stands between hope and despair.
Scions of the most powerful House in Ylandre, Ashrian Mithani and Eiren Sarvan were more than just cousins. Lovers of long standing, theirs was a bond that would have been the envy of all were it not for one glaring flaw—Ashrian’s inability to commit himself wholeheartedly to Eiren. Despite the dismay of some and the derision of others, Eiren bore his inconstancy; displaying a loyalty Ashrian seemed incapable of returning. That is, until Ashrian crossed a line and the transgression proved one Eiren could not forgive.
In the wake of grief and remorse, Ashrian seeks to make amends and win Eiren back. But something stands in his way. Or rather someone. And the irony of it all is that Ashrian can neither hate nor help befriending the Deir who is his rival for the heart of Ylandre’s most beloved physician.
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Impressions
Rikara in the 2992nd year of the Common Age
For a wedding between
two members of the gentry, Aloir Sarvan’s was well attended by scions of
the highest House in the land, even though it was deemed a big social step
down after his first union to a son of a minor clan of House Essendri.
Verily, it was only because of his son from said union that the
Essendris deigned to grace the occasion of his binding to Dirion Qiraz.
Had young Eiren declined to attend, none of his royal-blooded kinsfolk
would have shown up. And there would have been no need to hire the most
luxurious banquet hall in Rikara.
* * * *
“He’s grown beautiful,”
Ashrian Mithani remarked as he and Reijir Arthanna studied their cousin
from their corner of the ornately appointed hall.
“Almost as beautiful as Rohyr,” Reijir said.
“True.” It was generally
agreed that the Ylandrin sovereign Rohyr Essendri was more physically
attractive than the norm even in a House known for the uncommon
pulchritude of most of its members. “I wonder if he pulls his nose out
of his books long enough to take advantage of his beauty,” Ashrian only
half jestingly remarked.
Reijir frowned
reprovingly at him. “We’re not all of a piece. Eiren is very serious
about pursuing his profession. He doesn’t take his gift for granted. He knows full well born healers are as rare as adamants.”
“I
know that!” Ashrian rolled his eyes. “But he needn’t ignore the
pleasures of life in the pursuit of knowledge. That would make for a
very boring existence.”
“I doubt he ignores them,” Reijir mildly retorted. “He just doesn’t flaunt his conquests the way some folk do.”
“Meaning
myself.” Ashrian grinned unrepentantly. “I won’t deny I like the chase.
It’s quite exhilarating, especially when one captures one’s quarry.”
“I
hardly think the quarry agrees when he’s tossed aside once the hunt is
over. Really, Ash, you’re the worst sort of libertine.”
“At least, I don’t pretend otherwise. What they
see is what they get, and it isn’t my fault if they choose to take a
chance with me.” Ashrian noticed Reijir eyeing Eiren with some concern.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing—yet. But did
you mark how Eiren behaves toward his stepbrother?”
Ashrian
shook his head and turned to see for himself what his Ilmareni cousin
had noticed. Eiren was in conversation with Ilian Qiraz. Or rather,
Ilian was talking to him and Eiren was responding with little
enthusiasm. Ashrian wondered at his lack of amiability toward his
stepfather’s son. He regarded the other Deir as well.
Ilian was fair-haired and pale-eyed whereas Eiren was dark. He was sturdier of frame but an inch or so shorter and more youthful
of countenance though he and Eiren were almost the same age. He also
seemed of a less serious bent. Ashrian could not recall a moment when
Ilian had not smiled or laughed all evening.
“He’s
not very friendly with Ilian,” he commented. “I wonder why?”
“Out of caution, no doubt. I don’t think he
trusts Ilian very much.”
“Really?” Ashrian scoffed. “You perceived that just from Eiren’s behavior?”
“Nay, lackwit. I also felt
his unease,” Reijir said. “You would, too, if you bothered to extend
your senses a bit instead of dulling them with drink.”
Ashrian bristled faintly. “I didn’t come to a
wedding to spy on other people’s thoughts. I’m here to relax, make
merry, and enjoy what company is to be had.”
“You’re a Herun’s son,” Reijir mildly chided him. “It should behoove you to first take stock of your surroundings in any
situation before letting down your guard. How easily you forget your
lessons when it suits you, cousin.”
Sighing
with some exasperation, Ashrian shrugged. “I’m never going to rule a
great fief like you do. I don’t have the same obligations as you.”
“You mayn’t be Glanthar’s heir, but you’re still a Mithani and
an Essendri and that requires some prudence in all your dealings,”
Reijir pointed out. “You wouldn’t care to besmear either name or
endanger yourself out of recklessness, now would you?”
“Yes, O great teacher!”
Ashrian grumbled. He raised a hand to forestall further lecturing. “So
you’re probably right that Eiren doesn’t trust his stepbrother. What
does that have to do with us? Do you think Eiren worries that Ilian will
wrest our admiration from him? That is a ridiculous notion considering
his superior standing and peerless skills. Not to mention that beauty we
were talking about earlier. Ilian is handsome enough, but verily Eiren
is comely almost beyond compare.” He smirked. “So comely it makes my
mouth water just thinking about him in naught but his skin!”
Reijir
elbowed him in the side with a little more force than usual. “Don’t
take him lightly. He isn’t anything like your previous bed treats.”
“You’re just miffed I lured that last pretty
away from you,” Ashrian mocked. “Admit it, Rei, you’re interested in
him, too, and don’t want me to poach on your territory.”
His cousin glared at
him. “And you’ve never been deterred before so why should I bother to
warn you away now?”
Ashrian
had the grace to be abashed. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for,” he
ruefully said. “Look, I’ll own myself a scoundrel and a dolt for
speaking out of turn. Come now, accept my apology. Please, Rei?”
He turned a placating smile on his cousin.
Appeased, Reijir lightly punched his cheek. Looking around, Reijr
spotted someone across the hall.
“I need to speak to Zykriel,” he said. “Enjoy
yourself, Ash. But not so much that you have to be carried home draped
over the back of your steed.”
Ashrian watched Reijir
head over to their cousin of Losshen. He turned his attention back to
Eiren who had managed to disengage from the conversation with his
stepbrother and now stood by himself for the moment, his dark gaze
roving the chamber. At length, his gaze fell on Ashrian.
Realizing Ashrian must
have been regarding him for a time, Eiren blushed and abruptly turned
his eyes elsewhere. The color slowly creeping into his cheeks, and the
slight abashment in his widened eyes had a most charming effect and one
Ashrian was not immune to. He snatched two goblets of wine from a
passing attendant’s tray and purposely strolled toward Eiren.
By Veres, if he did not
have his cousin wanting for more than mere talk by evening’s end, it
would not be for lack of trying.
Chapter 1
Entanglement
C.A. 3005
The sharp, high-pitched
cry of a newborn infant pierced the silence. Eiren Sarvan straightened
as he gingerly lifted the child in its natal shell out of the womb that
had been its shelter for six months. Despite the blood and birthing
fluids that covered it, the dark beige shell appeared whole and
undamaged, the faint bluish veins that streaked its opaque surface
undisturbed by the traumatic procedure the shell had been subjected to.
The same could be said for the newborn’s lifeline, the rose-hued birth
cord that trailed across the babe’s navel to its berth in the folds of
the shell. The cord pulsed with the steady flow of sustenance from shell
to child.
Eiren sighed with relief and satisfaction.
It had been a difficult
birthing. Ordinarily, the shell detached from the wall of the womb at
the onset of the contractions that pushed an infant toward the opened
birthing seam. But there was a condition wherein the shell or a part of
it remained deeply embedded in the womb wall and had to be surgically
separated from it. In the absence of a skilled physician who was also
gifted enough to stem the potentially fatal blood loss that accompanied
the procedure, a Deir and his child was likely to die in the process.
Fortunately, the condition was very rare.
However, that knowledge
had been of little consolation to Eiren as he fought to save both father
and child. He may have been Ylandre’s most gifted healer in several
generations but he never took any outcome for granted. There were many
occasions when his considerable skills had not been enough to turn the
tide. True, the number of patients he’d lost was miniscule in comparison
to the ones he’d saved. But Eiren grieved every loss nonetheless and
questioned his ability each time.
Complicating this
particular situation had been having to deliver the child outside the
more sanitary environs of a hospital operating theater where a physician
could rely on the assistance of trained apprentices and a complete
array of surgical instruments and medicaments. This was where knowledge
and experience counted dearly. His insistence on the room and beddings’
absolute cleanliness and the swiftness with which he had performed the
procedure on his patient helped lessen the chances of infection.
Eiren quickly inspected
the babe for overall health. The natal shell, a firm, fleshy half sphere
just double the circumference of his cupped hands, would provide
nourishment for a fortnight or so until the infant was grown enough in
size and could suckle on its own. Having fulfilled its purpose, the by
then desiccated shell, along with the cord, would come off naturally.
Satisfied that the child
was well, he handed the precious bundle to the Deir, who was the
neighborhood’s birthing practician. While the practician washed the
babe, Eiren turned his attention once more to the birthing parent.
Checking to ensure all internal bleeding had ceased and the Deir’s womb
was sound, he carefully brought the edges of the gaping seam together to
hasten the seam’s closing. He then smeared on a thin layer of medicinal
cream to facilitate healing.
“Will they be all
right?” the anxious sire asked from where he stood by his spouse’s side,
still tightly clasping the latter’s hand.
“They’re both fine,”
Eiren assured him as he deftly wrapped several layers of freshly
laundered gauze around his patient’s abdomen. “No solids for him for a
day or so. I’ll pass by tomorrow to check that the seam is mending well.
And just make sure he doesn’t get up for at least a sennight. I don’t
want him hemorrhaging because he started moving about too soon. If he
must piss or move his bowels, place a basin under him.”
“So messy…” the birthing father protested.
“Better
a mess than the funeral pyre,” Eiren tartly pointed out as he removed
his bloodied physician’s smock. “Stay in bed else I’ll have you tied to
it until you’re healed.”
The Deir weakly chuckled, moaning a little as the movement pulled at his wound. His mate said, “I will see to it, Sarvan-dyhar. Thank you for coming to us at this time of the night.”
Eiren
stuffed his smock into his pack and then washed his hands and arms in
the basin of water provided for the purpose. He toweled dry, rolled down
his sleeves, and pulled on his tunic.
“You mayn’t be as grateful when you see my fee,” he tiredly joked.
“Nay,
it will be worth it,” the Deir replied with a small smile. Seeing
Eiren’s fatigue, he added, “Would you like something to eat before you
go?”
Eiren
took off his spectacles and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’d rather
you offered me brandy,” he said with typical bluntness. “The strongest
you’ve got.”
* * * *
A half hour later, he
was back at his townhouse. While his groom led his mount away, he slowly
ascended the stairs to the second level and went to his bedchamber.
Used to the odd hours kept by a much sought-after physician and having
learned to anticipate his master’s needs, the butler hastened to draw
him a hot bath.
Eiren shed his soiled
clothing, idly noting stains that had somehow managed to attach
themselves to his shirt and breeches despite the protection of his
smock. If that large rust-hued blot on his shirtsleeve did not come off
in the wash, the garment would become part of the stock of clothing he
used when undertaking procedures that entailed contact with sundry body
fluids. No matter; it was an old shirt. And he was not much of a dandy
in any case—a physician had to be sartorially practical—unlike some of
his cousins, who were always decked out in fashionable attire.
He pulled on a thin robe
and sat in his reading chair to await the butler’s summons to the
bathing room. It was not long in coming and he happily sank into warm,
slightly sudsy water fragrant with soothing herbs while the butler
gathered his clothes and smock and took them down for laundering in the
morning. Too tired to even scrub himself, Eiren leaned back against the
rim of the spacious claw foot tub, an indulgence amidst decor and
furnishings chosen for being comfortable rather than luxurious or
fashionable.
Eiren closed his eyes
and let the tiredness ease out of his muscles. Minutes of sheer bliss
passed by and he reminded himself not to fall asleep. It would be the
height of idiocy to drown in his bath of all places.
Perhaps he was wearier
than he thought for he did not sense anything out of the ordinary until
it was right in front of him. Or rather in the tub with him.
Eiren gasped when
another pair of legs tangled with his and a hand smoothed its way from
his chest down to his belly and even lower. He opened his eyes to behold
Ashrian Mithani’s handsome face just inches away from his, warm hazel
eyes gleaming wickedly, his burnished hair more like copper than
mahogany in the candlelight.
“Ash!” he exclaimed, his breath catching when he was expertly groped down yonder. “What in Aisen are you doing here?”
He pushed his cousin’s hand away. But Ashrian only grinned and impishly stroked him with his other hand.
“I just came from a dinner party,” he drawled. “One of Aba’s shipping associates. It got quite boring so I decided to pay you a visit instead.”
Eiren tried to ignore the burgeoning tension in his groin. “A dinner party at this hour? It’s almost midnight.”
“A quarter past the hour actually,” Ashrian corrected. “They brought in the performers from The Minstrel’s Tale.
Such a deadly dull play. I simply don’t understand the attraction. At
any rate, I feared their performance would never end so I slipped away
and hot-footed it here.”
He
quickened his strokes until Eiren was all but arching his body into
them. Eiren tried to speak but nothing comprehensible escaped his lips.
The pleasurable tension grew, and he could do naught but clutch at the
tub rim and thrust his shaft into Ashrian’s hand. The tightly wound coil
in his belly began to loosen as his body started its ascent into
ecstasy. And then it came all undone and, sobbing harshly, Eiren spilled
his seed into the warm water.
When he finished spending, he slumped back fighting for breath.
“That was fast,” Ashrian teased, running his knuckles down Eiren’s cheek.
Eiren glared at him. “Damn it! Now I’m really exhausted.” He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath.
“But
pleasantly so, I warrant.”
“Arrogant bastard.”
“I’ll own the first but I doubt Adda
will appreciate the second.”
“Oh,
stuff it, Ash.”
Ashrian huskily chuckled. “I intend to.”
Eiren thought he heard
the sound of a stopper being eased out of a bottle. Before he had a
chance to realize what that portended, he felt the slide of a slick
finger into his backside. His eyes snapped open, and he started to
protest, but Ashrian covered his lips with his own, thrusting a tongue
into his mouth, and effectively silenced him. He groaned as more fingers
joined the first, smearing oil inside him and gently reminding his
innards of the pleasure to found from the entry of hard flesh into his
body.
He did not resist when
Ashrian shifted to kneel between his legs and slightly lifted his
buttocks. The familiar press of Ashrian’s shaft into him robbed him of
coherent thought, as did the repeated thrusts into his core, every
plunge striking sparks of pleasure that rapidly flared into a
full-fledged conflagration. As always, he was his lover’s to do with as
he willed. Coupling with Ashrian was more often than not an exquisite
exercise in willing sexual submission.
“How well you fit around me, my sweet.”
Eiren shivered as
Ashrian reached out to him with his thoughts. Possible only between the
more gifted True Bloods, the touching of minds in the course of
copulation triggered not only intense pleasure seldom experienced
through physical sensation alone, but also fostered an exquisite
intimacy that transcended mere affinity between long-term sexual
partners.
“Ash, please…” he
raggedly whispered as he was cleaved again and again, the sensation of
being sensually pierced reducing him to pleas for mercy. “It’s too much.”
Perversely, Ashrian
slowed his movements. “Nay, I want to stay in you as long as possible,”
he murmured. “It’s been an interminable while since I last bedded you.” “You’re going to remember how well I fucked you every time you sit down tomorrow.”
Eiren shook his head,
not sure whether his cousin’s crude language offended or titillated him.
He moaned at a particularly slow withdrawal of Ashrian’s shaft followed
by as gradual a reentry deep into him.
“Interminable?” he stuttered as Ashrian reached for his resurgent member and stroked it anew to stiffness. “Just last week, you all but pounded me into the mattress. Thrice!”
Ashrian huskily laughed. “I rest my case.”
He suddenly leaned down and kissed Eiren with incendiary
possessiveness. Pulling away slightly, he murmured, “Weekly trysts are
not enough for me, Ren. Not if I want my fill of your charms. Daily is
more to my taste and not just once a day either.”
He
quickened his thrusts once more—quick, hard stabs meant to wring as
much pleasure as possible from their joining. Eiren surrendered to the
rapture fast overtaking him and, wrapping his legs around Ashrian’s
waist, allowed his cousin to ride him to their mutual satisfaction.
* * * *
Ashrian’s threat was not
empty, and Eiren did indeed remember how well his arse had been used
not only each time he sat down but with every step up and down the
stairs it seemed. It was most inconvenient considering the number of
times he had to ascend to the upper floors of the four-story Rikara
Public Hospital. He stroked his bottom with a grimace when he finally
returned to his consultation room on the ground floor.
Physician, heal thyself,
he thought as he directed a few waves of mental energy toward the
source of his discomfort. Of course, the relief was only temporary. For a
longer respite, he would need to apply a medicament.
He took a small jar out
of the lowermost compartment of his desk and passed through the side
door that led into the side chamber that served as his examination room.
After locking the door, he loosened his breeches and drew down his
drawers. He opened the jar. A fresh, slightly minty odor permeated the
air.
Eiren scooped up a
generous dollop of the jar’s contents, a loose, translucent cream of
bluish hue, and eased it into his rear passage. In a short while, the
soreness within began to dissipate. He groaned with relief then silently
chided himself.
He should have applied
some before he went on his rounds, especially when the ache had become
quite bothersome. After all, he’d freely dispensed the concoction to
others, especially the more libidinous of his numerous kin. He suddenly
chuckled as he recalled how his cousin Rohyr had stocked up on the
medicament when he first brought home the beauteous Velarusian sedyr
he would make his leman. That Rohyr no longer replenished his supply as
often as he used to could only mean Lassen Idana had adapted to his
royal lover’s concupiscence and generous endowment. Indeed, Lassen
complained of discomfort very rarely nowadays and that was only after a
more thorough tumbling by Rohyr than usual.
Remembrance of the cause
of his own discomfort suddenly brought a rush of heat into his cheeks.
Eiren was sure they were as red as they were warm.
He tied his drawers
again and hitched up his breeches a little distractedly. Veres almighty,
he and Ashrian had been warming each other’s beds for over a decade
now, yet you’d think he was an untried innocent from the way memories of
their encounters easily reduced him to blushing embarrassment. How was
it that his lover could arouse such feelings in him after all this time?
A knock on the door
jarred him out of his musings. He quickly smoothed out his tunic and
stepped out of the room. He smiled when he saw who his visitor was.
“When did you get back
from Sidona?” he asked Keosqe Deilen, taking his cousin’s hands in a
warm grip. He glanced questioningly at the two Deira behind Keosqe.
“Just last night,” Keosqe replied. He gestured to his companions. “Do you remember my good friend, Veare Marante?”
“Of
course!” Eiren said, extending his hand in welcome to the Deir. “Though
I confess I didn’t recognize you after all these years. How long has it
been since Kes introduced us?”
“Almost eight years, I think,” Veare answered. “But you haven’t changed much, Dyhar. You must have discovered the elixir of youth.”
Eiren
chuckled. “And here I thought I’d aged from sheer exasperation with
some of my patients.” He turned his attention to the lissome lad by
Veare’s side. He was darker haired but their features were very similar.
“Your brother?” he ventured.
Veare beamed and nodded. “This is Tristen.”
“Tristen
has enrolled at the State University for formal medical training,”
Keosqe explained after the obligatory exchange of greetings. “He hopes
to be a physician like you one day. Indeed, he was so eager to meet you,
he all but begged me to bring him here today.”
With an indignant glare at Keosqe, Tristen protested, “I did not
beg!”
Eiren had to laugh.
Young Tristen apparently did not fawn over Keosqe the way most other
youths did. That was unusual considering his fair-haired cousin’s more
than comely countenance and splendid form.
“Will you be staying in
Rikara until your brother completes his training?” he asked Veare.
“Nay, I must return to
Sidona,” the Deir said. “My spouse awaits me. But Kes has kindly offered
to take Tristen in. I cannot thank him enough for that.”
“Since
when have I refused you?” Keosqe said, his voice unexpectedly gruff.
“None
that I can think of,” Veare admitted. “He’s a true friend. I don’t know
what I would have done had he not been there when my parents died.”
Eiren caught Tristen rolling his eyes before
looking away in apparent embarrassment. Or was it irritation? He glanced
at Keosqe and noted his somewhat strained smile.
“Ah, we have to go,” Veare softly exclaimed.
“Let us hurry, Tris. I need to make some purchases before the market
closes.” He slightly bowed his head to Eiren. “It’s a pleasure to meet
you again, Sarvan-dyhar.”
“The pleasure is mine,”
Eiren said. “And I do hope you stay the course,” he addressed Tristen.
“Ylandre can never have enough trained physicians. When the time comes
and you wish to apprentice yourself, come to me. I seldom accept novices
fresh out of university, but for you I will make an exception.”
Tristen’s
eyes widened and he blushed in delight while he stammered his thanks.
Before he followed his brother out of the room, however, Eiren saw him
dart what appeared to be a concerned glance at Keosqe.
“You’re
not going with them?” Eiren asked Keosqe.
Keosqe
shook his head. “I have two meetings, one after the other.”
“Rather late for business, don’t you think?
Can’t they wait until tomorrow morn?”
“If only they could. But
anything to do with the Ferrendas can never wait.”
“Ah,
so the betrothal of Jubal’s son to that Asmaran prince is proving
worrisome.”
A golden eyebrow rose in surprised amusement.
“Who have you been talking to, Ren? That isn’t common knowledge.”
“You have your sources, I
have mine,” Eiren airily said. Relenting, he grinned and admitted,
“Actually, Rohyr asked me for my opinion my last visit to the Citadel.”
Keosqe
laughed. “I thought it might be something like that. Well then, I’d
best be going.” He made to leave.
“How
long have you been in love with Veare?” Eiren softly inquired.
The
abrupt question stopped Keosqe in midstride. He stiffened then turned
around to face Eiren, his expression, one of chagrin and not a little
sadness.
“Am
I that obvious?” he quietly said.
Eiren
sighed. “Your face changed when he mentioned his spouse, and then your
voice broke. And Tristen looked at you rather strangely. Almost
pityingly it seemed. He knows, doesn’t he?”
Keosqe nodded. “He saw my heart almost at once
whereas Veare doesn’t at all. Has never realized it even when we…” He
swallowed then went on. “Veare came to me when their parents perished
almost fourteen years ago. He sought comfort for his loss and I gave
what I could. The only comfort I could give. I’ve been in love with him
since I can remember and I thought, perhaps, in the sharing of our
bodies, he might come to see me as a lover as well. But it was not to
be. When we ended our affair, he again treated me as his dearest friend,
no more, no less.”
“I’m sorry, Kes,” Eiren
murmured. “I wish there was some way I could help.”
“But
you did,” Keosqe assured him with a small smile. “You permitted me to
unburden myself.” He leaned forward and bestowed an affectionate kiss on
Eiren’s lips. “I must go. Thank you for listening, Ren.”
Eiren watched him go then sat down at his desk,
pondering his cousin’s plight. It was difficult to be embroiled in a
one-sided love. He heartily sympathized with anyone who had to suffer
through such heartache. An instant later, he grimaced.
Sympathy was easy to come by when one had some
experience of another’s problem. Truth be told, Eiren sometimes felt as
if he had invested too much of himself in an affair of frustrating
ambiguity camouflaged by irresistible passion.
Review
Heartstrings, July 31, 2012
This review is from: Heartstrings (Chronicles of Ylandre) (Kindle Edition)
This book pulled every emotion out of me it's not funny. I so totally
Ash and Ren were so in love until Ash made a big mistake. Ren left him
and when he came back, Ren was married to Fir. When Ash saw Ren, he
wanted to tell him that he wanted them to get back together and he
wanted to forgive him.Ren introduced his husband Fir to Ash and his twin
Dan, I almost dropped my Ipad! When Ash left and went home and almost
took his life, I cried myself. This book is so wicked cool I would
recommend it over and over again. You won't regret reading it!
One of the best books that I've ever read!
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