The Dance: Fool's Gold
Ilthus Dawnsinger wandered the decadent grounds of the Quel’wythar Estate taking in the elegant fountains and perfectly manicured trees and allowing the rambling stream of his companion’s observations to wash over him. She was a dark haired little thing with luminous eyes and quite generous proportions. He could probably have sketched every curve of her from memory but could not, just at the moment, recall what her name was. Feletia perhaps? Isleth? Not that it mattered all that much. He reckoned he had, at best, another day or two of her company before she found out he had already had her younger brother. That sort of thing did seem to kill a dalliance rather swiftly.
His eyes were pulled from examining a rather intricate ice sculpture by the sudden tightening of her fingers on his arm. Once she had his attention she directed it to the other side of the gardens where he could see the Lord of the House laughing and shamelessly flirting with an all too familiar golden haired beauty. Liirian was sparkling this evening, aglow with the thrill of the hunt. The other women around the two, and there were several, seemed to fade into silent stormclouds, forks of jagged hate lighting their eyes but never touching her. Her victory was clear.
“Aims high, doesn’t she?” Possibly Kalyn leaned in to murmur in his ear, lips tugging softly at the lobe as she pulled away. He felt it like a line of fire down his spine, turning to give her a look that promised all manner of enjoyments the moment a sliver of privacy could be stolen.
“If you’ve skill enough with your bow there’s no other way to aim.” He cooed the words at her as he lowered his lips to her neck, but they paused and then curled into a grin as he spotted two figures walking arm and arm toward a small, secluded spot in the gardens that he knew quite well. “Give us just a moment, will you love?” A quick nip at her ear and he was off, sliding through the shadows along the garden wall, in stealthy pursuit of Torian and his lady love.
The two came to rest in that little darkened corner and Ilthus grinned, sidling up to within earshot. He regretted it immediately, the moment he heard the first words Rosal spoke. “I’ve made my choice, Torian. I’m sorry. My father has accepted Aerlion’s suit. I cannot defy him. This has to end.”
Ilthus drew back. He had hoped to bear witness to some small indiscretion with which to taunt his brother. This scene was not for his ears. Alas, too late, Torian gripped the Lady’s shoulder, turning her and himself so that Ilthus could not retreat again without being seen. He crouched behind a flowering bush and watched the tragic tableau unfold.
“I will speak to him.” His brother pleaded, to be met with a sad shake of the head from Rosal.
“He detests you. You know this. Any time your name is mentioned he lashes out. ‘Overreaching, parasitic, only looking to leech a bit of proper noble blood to legitimize his mockery of a House.’ You could no more sway him that the wind.” Her voice shaded into bitterness as the speech drew to its close. That fact alone kept Ilthus’ hands from clenching. It did not do the same for Torian.
“I do not love your House or your Line, Rosal. I love you. It’s you that I want. I can make him see that. Just let me-“
“Love is for poets, Torian. Conjured gold. It glitters today but leaves your hands empty tomorrow. Building a future on it is folly.” Again that tone. These were also her father’s words, Ilthus was sure of that.
“I can give you everything Aerlion Brightwatch can offer you. You know this. Not as quickly, perhaps. I did not get to start from such power as some. But I have plans. Given time-“
“I marry in the Fall. Or I am Houseless in the winter. So I marry. I’m sorry.” Finality. No arguing with that tone. Torian tried anyway, cupping that proudly set jaw in one hand.
“Marry me. You needn’t be Houseless. My family would have you in an instant. My father would welcome you as his own daughter as readily as-“
“And be a Dawnsinger?” The contempt in her tone was genuine. A stinging slap that even lthus felt. Torian looked as though it had buckled his knees. He could not speak for a long moment. The Lady hesitated and stepped toward him, hands rising to his face. “Tor.. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-“
“No.” He stepped back, away from her, face and eyes gone to stone. “Don’t apologize. I see now. Finally. It was not your family alone who believed I sought you for your standing.”
“Tor..” another pace forward, stopped in mid-step by the snap of ice in his words.
“Your fiancé is waiting.”
Silence fell, neither looking at the other. Her hands rose suddenly to her throat, to the delicate floral pendant that lay against her pale skin. Fingers working at the chain. “Here.. you should have this back.”
His hands closed over hers, voice soft, tender, and almost breaking with sorrow. “Keep it. And remember you had love once. Worthless as you found it. It was yours. Will remain yours. Always.” He did not look at her again, stepping past her and leaving the gardens without another word. She waited until his footsteps had receded from hearing, before crumpling to the ground to weep. Ilthus slid back and away as softly as a shadow. His formerly festive mood quite shattered.
He snagged a bottle of wine from the table as he made his way back to.. whatever her name was. Her azure eyes still smoldering at him as he approached. “Come on.” He murmured. “Dull as stones here. What say we take this bottle and go find a quiet spot by the falls to properly enjoy it?”
A pleased little coo met this notion, her arm slipping into his. “Well now.. aren’t you the romantic?”
“No.” He replied, casting a glance back to the lone figure, in his finest robes, standing apart from the dancers, trying to will his heart into stone. “I’m not.”
His eyes were pulled from examining a rather intricate ice sculpture by the sudden tightening of her fingers on his arm. Once she had his attention she directed it to the other side of the gardens where he could see the Lord of the House laughing and shamelessly flirting with an all too familiar golden haired beauty. Liirian was sparkling this evening, aglow with the thrill of the hunt. The other women around the two, and there were several, seemed to fade into silent stormclouds, forks of jagged hate lighting their eyes but never touching her. Her victory was clear.
“Aims high, doesn’t she?” Possibly Kalyn leaned in to murmur in his ear, lips tugging softly at the lobe as she pulled away. He felt it like a line of fire down his spine, turning to give her a look that promised all manner of enjoyments the moment a sliver of privacy could be stolen.
“If you’ve skill enough with your bow there’s no other way to aim.” He cooed the words at her as he lowered his lips to her neck, but they paused and then curled into a grin as he spotted two figures walking arm and arm toward a small, secluded spot in the gardens that he knew quite well. “Give us just a moment, will you love?” A quick nip at her ear and he was off, sliding through the shadows along the garden wall, in stealthy pursuit of Torian and his lady love.
The two came to rest in that little darkened corner and Ilthus grinned, sidling up to within earshot. He regretted it immediately, the moment he heard the first words Rosal spoke. “I’ve made my choice, Torian. I’m sorry. My father has accepted Aerlion’s suit. I cannot defy him. This has to end.”
Ilthus drew back. He had hoped to bear witness to some small indiscretion with which to taunt his brother. This scene was not for his ears. Alas, too late, Torian gripped the Lady’s shoulder, turning her and himself so that Ilthus could not retreat again without being seen. He crouched behind a flowering bush and watched the tragic tableau unfold.
“I will speak to him.” His brother pleaded, to be met with a sad shake of the head from Rosal.
“He detests you. You know this. Any time your name is mentioned he lashes out. ‘Overreaching, parasitic, only looking to leech a bit of proper noble blood to legitimize his mockery of a House.’ You could no more sway him that the wind.” Her voice shaded into bitterness as the speech drew to its close. That fact alone kept Ilthus’ hands from clenching. It did not do the same for Torian.
“I do not love your House or your Line, Rosal. I love you. It’s you that I want. I can make him see that. Just let me-“
“Love is for poets, Torian. Conjured gold. It glitters today but leaves your hands empty tomorrow. Building a future on it is folly.” Again that tone. These were also her father’s words, Ilthus was sure of that.
“I can give you everything Aerlion Brightwatch can offer you. You know this. Not as quickly, perhaps. I did not get to start from such power as some. But I have plans. Given time-“
“I marry in the Fall. Or I am Houseless in the winter. So I marry. I’m sorry.” Finality. No arguing with that tone. Torian tried anyway, cupping that proudly set jaw in one hand.
“Marry me. You needn’t be Houseless. My family would have you in an instant. My father would welcome you as his own daughter as readily as-“
“And be a Dawnsinger?” The contempt in her tone was genuine. A stinging slap that even lthus felt. Torian looked as though it had buckled his knees. He could not speak for a long moment. The Lady hesitated and stepped toward him, hands rising to his face. “Tor.. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-“
“No.” He stepped back, away from her, face and eyes gone to stone. “Don’t apologize. I see now. Finally. It was not your family alone who believed I sought you for your standing.”
“Tor..” another pace forward, stopped in mid-step by the snap of ice in his words.
“Your fiancé is waiting.”
Silence fell, neither looking at the other. Her hands rose suddenly to her throat, to the delicate floral pendant that lay against her pale skin. Fingers working at the chain. “Here.. you should have this back.”
His hands closed over hers, voice soft, tender, and almost breaking with sorrow. “Keep it. And remember you had love once. Worthless as you found it. It was yours. Will remain yours. Always.” He did not look at her again, stepping past her and leaving the gardens without another word. She waited until his footsteps had receded from hearing, before crumpling to the ground to weep. Ilthus slid back and away as softly as a shadow. His formerly festive mood quite shattered.
He snagged a bottle of wine from the table as he made his way back to.. whatever her name was. Her azure eyes still smoldering at him as he approached. “Come on.” He murmured. “Dull as stones here. What say we take this bottle and go find a quiet spot by the falls to properly enjoy it?”
A pleased little coo met this notion, her arm slipping into his. “Well now.. aren’t you the romantic?”
“No.” He replied, casting a glance back to the lone figure, in his finest robes, standing apart from the dancers, trying to will his heart into stone. “I’m not.”