Casket of Souls Snippet!
It's been a while, hasn't it? Here you go!
Casket of Souls, copyright 2011 Lynn Flewelling. Do not reproduce or repost. Thank you!
Seregil turned over and propped himself against the bolsters. “Did you enjoy your party?”
“Of course I did, talí.” Alec moved around to rest his head on Seregil’s lean thigh. “I got Elsbet to dance, and I beat all the bakshi players in the dining room while you were cornered by those poets. I don’t know why you encourage them. They’re such a pack of leeches, fastening themselves to whoever they think will be their patron.”
“Leeches in packs!” Seregil chuckled at the image, then held up a finger. “Must I remind you that they are leeches who love gossip and have loose tongues, especially when they’re drinking?”
“Ah. And what did you learn tonight?”
“Let’s see. Lady Lania is cuckolding her husband with two different lovers and no one knows whose child she’s carrying. Duke Northus’s wife ran away because he beat her once too often. Korathan’s beautiful young Lord Byris gorges on sweets behind closed doors, and keeps his figure by tickling the back of his throat with a goose feather to bring them all up again. Lady Mora is sleeping with Lady Stania. The usual foolishness.”
“I overheard something more interesting than that.” Alec told him of the conversation between Malthus and Duke Oreus. “For a moment there, I thought they were going to take off their coats and go at it.”
“The heat and the shortages are rubbing tempers raw. When Phoria comes back, things will calm down.”
“That’s not the first time I’ve heard someone grumbling against the ‘faie.” Alec tugged gently on a lock of Seregil’s long hair. “You call attention to yourself, you know.”
“We’re ‘faie, Alec,” Seregil said, eyes fluttering shut. He wound his fingers in Alec’s thick hair. “At least I am, as far as anyone knows, and obviously you’re in my thrall. No one cares -” He yawned again. “-how long our hair is. And Phoria isn’t happy with us anyway, after we cocked up that last job.”
“Maybe not, but it’s things like that that are dividing the nobles,” Alec mused. “How can Phoria go out of her way to insult an ally like Aurënen when they’re her greatest source of help now that Mycena is ravaged? And this talk of the queen not considering the treaty? Do you think that may have something to do with whatever it is ?? and ?? are up to?”
“Too soon to tell.”
Alec grinned as he ran a finger over Seregil’s chest, admiring the smooth pale skin. “That actor was certainly doing his best to charm you.”
“Me and everyone else.” Seregil looked down at him. “Did it bother you?”
“No, talí. He’s just vain and wants your money.”
“Our money. And you’re right about that. Seems we’re about to own a partial interest in a theater.”
Casket of Souls, copyright 2011 Lynn Flewelling. Do not reproduce or repost. Thank you!
Seregil turned over and propped himself against the bolsters. “Did you enjoy your party?”
“Of course I did, talí.” Alec moved around to rest his head on Seregil’s lean thigh. “I got Elsbet to dance, and I beat all the bakshi players in the dining room while you were cornered by those poets. I don’t know why you encourage them. They’re such a pack of leeches, fastening themselves to whoever they think will be their patron.”
“Leeches in packs!” Seregil chuckled at the image, then held up a finger. “Must I remind you that they are leeches who love gossip and have loose tongues, especially when they’re drinking?”
“Ah. And what did you learn tonight?”
“Let’s see. Lady Lania is cuckolding her husband with two different lovers and no one knows whose child she’s carrying. Duke Northus’s wife ran away because he beat her once too often. Korathan’s beautiful young Lord Byris gorges on sweets behind closed doors, and keeps his figure by tickling the back of his throat with a goose feather to bring them all up again. Lady Mora is sleeping with Lady Stania. The usual foolishness.”
“I overheard something more interesting than that.” Alec told him of the conversation between Malthus and Duke Oreus. “For a moment there, I thought they were going to take off their coats and go at it.”
“The heat and the shortages are rubbing tempers raw. When Phoria comes back, things will calm down.”
“That’s not the first time I’ve heard someone grumbling against the ‘faie.” Alec tugged gently on a lock of Seregil’s long hair. “You call attention to yourself, you know.”
“We’re ‘faie, Alec,” Seregil said, eyes fluttering shut. He wound his fingers in Alec’s thick hair. “At least I am, as far as anyone knows, and obviously you’re in my thrall. No one cares -” He yawned again. “-how long our hair is. And Phoria isn’t happy with us anyway, after we cocked up that last job.”
“Maybe not, but it’s things like that that are dividing the nobles,” Alec mused. “How can Phoria go out of her way to insult an ally like Aurënen when they’re her greatest source of help now that Mycena is ravaged? And this talk of the queen not considering the treaty? Do you think that may have something to do with whatever it is ?? and ?? are up to?”
“Too soon to tell.”
Alec grinned as he ran a finger over Seregil’s chest, admiring the smooth pale skin. “That actor was certainly doing his best to charm you.”
“Me and everyone else.” Seregil looked down at him. “Did it bother you?”
“No, talí. He’s just vain and wants your money.”
“Our money. And you’re right about that. Seems we’re about to own a partial interest in a theater.”