PART ONE

NIGHT OF THE AUTUMN FAE

CHAPTER THREE:

Man from the broken sun

Upon our return the house was in full swing. The maids were busied with cleaning the feasting hall, wiping dust and grime from the long-table and chairs. Others moped the floors, and the huntsman Yokomi hired to chop fire-wood beat the bear-pelt that would serve as a carpet beneath the trestles and long-table. The kitchen staff were hard at work already, and they took our ingredients with a quick thanks and a quicker shove out the door. While the others went and aided the staff, I rushed off to my room, eager for a bath. I had a small bathroom attached to my room with a rustic, claw-foot bathtub. Sunlight and autumn leaves blew in from the open window, a small breeze sweet and warm as the spiced wine and freshly made bread dripping in honey I lazily chewed on.

The water was deliciously warm, so nice that it covered my skin in goose-bumps. It was clear, too. I looked into the still surface and examined the frayed remains of my fringe. Dumping a bucket of water onto my morning-hair apparently didn’t it any favours. I hadn’t had my hair like this for long. Two months, at the most. Pink and silver-white with a fringe. Simple, but pretty. At least that’s what Yokomi had said about it in the two moments she’d spared to look up from her paper-work. I’d gotten sick of it, I supposed. Sick of having to look at the same face and hair for so long. From blonde hair to pink-silver, from a few stray flecks of hair to a fringe. Maybe part of me just missed my black hair. Or my white hair.

I traced a finger through the waters, ripples dancing in the tub. Rose petals and mint leaves floated about, whisking around me. I hope I didn’t scare Keisuke away. He’s sweet and handsome, and makes for a good friend. But he does seem to have fear instilled in him. Deep down, right in his core. He hesitates. I guess I can’t really judge him. I have that fear too.

A soft knock came from the open door. “I could smell the mint and rose from the hall,” Sinclair said with an eerie, soft smile as he crunched away on an apple. I lent on the edge of the tub, an arm covering my breasts. “What, you have a sweet-tooth?” I chuckled. There was a weird, faint knot in my chest. But I buried it deep, and rocked back into the bathtub. Sinclair nodded and took a sip of my wine, tossing the apple core out the open window.

He lowered himself onto his knees beside the tub, running his finger-tips across the surface of the water. Mint leaves and rose-petals all drifted towards me, brushing against my soft, wet skin. Petals stuck against my skin, decorating me like a painting I’d seen the abandoned castle of Ithren Towers.

“You think you can just walk into my room like that?” I said playfully, splashing him with a bit of water.

“Maybe, considering you leave your doors open and inviting. And here you are, all wet and sweet and even a little tipsy. I’m sure…you wouldn’t object to a little help washing yourself right?” Sinclair asked, a soft look in his eyes.

That look. He always gets me with that damn look. Maybe that’s the only thing I miss about him.

Then I noticed the bulge that was starting to grow in his pants. They were part of his uniform, but they fit tight and snug against his perfect legs and ass.

Well. Maybe there’s a few more things I miss about him.

Sinclair began to undress. Taking off his uniform, piece by piece. He never once took his eyes off me. They were a light brown, the same as colour of the wine I’d been slowly sipping on all afternoon. They had a grip on me a hold that was both vice and gentle all at once. And it lured me, no matter how much I pretended to resist.

“How foolish it would be…how impractical it would be to ask you to do it all yourself,” Sinclair murmured, a hand reaching down into the water and between my breasts. He took a single rose-petal, and drew it down my centre and in-between my legs. His thumb pressed between the lips of my pussy and he began to rub, gentle and slow at first. He knew my body well. I stroked his wrist and urged him into the tub with me. He took little convincing to slip into the other end of the tub, his legs spread and knees poking out of the water. I slipped further beneath the surface and shuffled forward, close enough that I could slip my legs around him and begin to stroke his length. While I felt him grow harder and harder stroke after stroke, he continued to touch me just the way I liked.

“Can I ask…what foolish errand are you here for, Sinclair?” I asked, my strokes growing slower and stronger. He took a deep sigh, biting his lip and closing his eyes for a moment.

“I’m here as a liaison for the Storms Reach out-post. They sent me here to ensure your guest tonight arrives sound and safe and…to craft a report on the successes and growth of the Sanctuary. To assure the young majesty that all is working as it should and you are all accommodated to as necessary,” He explained, his voice wavering when I began to run a thumb around the head of his cock. Birds began to sing their evening song just outside the window.

“How important can this man be, if he’s coming to live here?” I asked with a chuckle. There may have been humour to my words, but I was curious. Whoever would come to live with us would play an important part in our livelihood. This was a home for half-breeds, for creatures and broken things cast aside at the end of the Obsidian War. What kind of man could claim a royal greeting from one of the head captains of his majesty’s army, but come to live his life in the isolation of the Sanctuary?

Sinclair hesitated before he answered my next question. Whether from the feeling of having his cock nudging between my soft thighs after a little guidance from my hand, or whether he was hesitant to freely share such information.

“He’s…hmm…a diplomat…from the war…mmm…he failed. Stripped of his titles and land. The court decided…his best place was here…” He said, his voice slipping into a moan at some parts. I began to buck my hips back and forth, his rock-hard cock slipping between my warm, soft thighs, scarcely brushing the lips of my pussy.

A diplomat? What kind of diplomats worked during the Obsidian War?

My interest, to say the least, was peaked.

“One day…I’ll have the same,” He said, leaning in to kiss my collar-bone.

“Land,” He kissed the base of my neck.

“A wife and sons. A title and the countless decorations for my service,” He licked my neck and slid two fingers inside of me.

I curled my fingers around his wrists and gripped it hard as I could. He drew back, eyes wide. “You’ll have everything you craved for, right? Everything you wanted when you left three years ago. Everything you admitted to me when we traded secrets when you had me irons!” I hissed, a new fire in my belly.

“I left, because I had a life outside of a being a prison guard. You knew that there was never any commitment between us! You knew that what we had was strong because we both would have lives after all of it! Different lives.” Sinclair snapped, drawing himself away.

“Exactly. I never wanted commitment, no romance. But I never wanted to be abandoned by the one person I had in my life. Like I was nothing,!” I said standing up, water rolling off me. The droplets raced down my body, petals still stuck to my body. The afternoon sun warmed my back.

“You were never nothing. But you knew what were to each other. You always knew,” He said, his eyes soft. That look is a lie. Maybe long ago, when I was his prisoner and he offered me kind words and friendship, that look of sweetness was genuine. But it’s nothing, now. There’s nothing in his eyes.

“I suppose I remember the soldier, not the captain.” I said, stepping out of the tub. The wine spilt out onto the floor. I took my towel and turned at the door.

“Expect that you won’t find my door unlocked anymore. Fill out your report and go back to your shining capital and promised life. I’ll take my own path, happily.”

Sinclair offered me an empty gaze.

“I’ll see you at tonight’s feast, Venus.” He said, his words the taste of ash in my mouth.

***

As the sun began to slip beneath the horizon the candles, chandelier and fireplace was lit. Orange flames brought new colour and life to the halls of the Sanctuary, warming the animal skins and paintings of warriors of old from previous owners. I enjoyed a taste-test of the evenings wine by stealing a cask and aided Yeren in setting an autumn-themed decoration. Leaves, thorns and browned vines decorated the centre of the table, six lanterns each breathing colour into the browns and reds.

The mysterious dishonoured Diplomat arrived just as the orange evening melted into a mix of indigo and violet and the first few stars began to peak their way through the black veil. I’d returned to my room earlier to find Sinclair thankfully gone. Though he’d left a lovely good-bye note in the form of the petals and mint-leaves wet and discoloured in the shape of a heart on my bed.

And the lock was broken. Smashed, it seemed.

I dressed in a floor-length gown of white woven cotton with a golden clasp on the shoulder strap. Around my neck I wore a heavy necklace with a golden Phoenix at the breast. It was a gift. An old one.

Everyone in their own time arrived at the feast hall. All dressed handsomely. I sipped at my honey-wine and enjoyed the view as each of them came marching down. Yeren came first, wearing a finely-fitted suit of gold and white. Tomas followed with a simple black dress-shirt and suit-pants, his usual silver-rings adoring nearly each finger. Keisuke came next, wearing his university professor attire of black robes and a white scarf. We exchanged a look that made my heart beat a little faster. He even sat across from me, but didn’t spare another look or even spare an awkward hello. Sinclair arrived alongside Yokomi, both dressed in their red royal army uniforms. I happily ignored him.

And the Man from the broken sun arrived. He was seated on the left hand of the head of the table beside Yokomi. On the right, Sinclair slowly sipped at a single glass of wine.

“Residents of Sanctuary! I introduce to you Edward Stormborough, brought to us all the way from the capitol of Illis. He will be joining us from now on, as one of our own. I hope you’ll take tonight to welcome him to our ranks,” Yokomi announced, raising a toast. We raised our glasses in return, each offering our warm welcomes.

He stood. About as old as I expected. He looked about thirty-eight or so, with a dark mop of curly hair and even a few lines around his mouth. He wore a uniform bestowed upon most who operated within the confines of the court, black and silver. A sign of dishonour for a man who was supposedly once a diplomat.

“I hope to be a good neighbour to you all, and to uh offer something of worth to my new household.” Edward greeted us, raising another toast. He gave us all a small nod, but his gaze lingered on me.

He could smell the same thing as I could, I suspected. Stormborough could smell the demon in me.

And I could smell the angel within him.