[FINISHED]One of the best known original m/m romances in Russia, loved by many. It won the Russian Wattys 2015 Award, now it's available in English too.
Alva Ahayrre is a Creedan nobleman and a courtier, a beautiful and frivolous redhead...
The New Year's Ball at the palace was splendid, as usual. Alva went with Ithildin, and everyone drooled. Men and women flirted with the two of them, asked them to dance, topped up their glasses, brought over tasty morsels and passed the billet-doux. Alva was in his element, and even Ithildin became less stiff, bantered without blushing and let Alva take him to the dance floor. But then his face tensed again, and the light went out in his eyes.
"Alva, I am bored." His tone was cold, almost rude.
Alva was surprised. He had never seen Ithildin like this before.
"But you had wanted to come here yourself, and convinced me," he said, mildly.
"If I knew I'd have to watch you flirt with all and sundry, I wouldn't have. I can see I am in your way!" Ithildin's high-strung accents contrasted strangely with his unmoving face.
Alva flinched. Was Ithildin jealous? Perhaps it could have amused him at another time, but not now, when his beloved was so evidently upset. The elf acted like a spoilt belle, determined to make a scene. This was something novel.
"My love," Alva clasped Ithildin's hand in his. "Please, let us not fight."
For a moment, pain flickered in Ithildin's face, but he went on as coldly as before, "I do not intend to fight. I just want to leave."
"Wait five minutes, I will say good-bye to a few people, and we'll go together."
"No." Ithildin whirled away. "You stay. Far be it for me to ruin your fun. I want to be alone. I'll ask one of the guards to escort me."
Alva stared after him, stunned. His face burned as though he had been slapped repeatedly.
He jumped when someone touched his elbow and a smooth voice of Chancellor Rennarte oozed into his ear, "A lovers' quarrel, my dear Chevalier? Do not look so cross, this is but the way of the world. Here, have some wine. And try to compose yourself, you are looking like a whipped dog."
Alva caught his breath and drunk deeply.
"You are in desperate need of some friendly ministration," purred the Chancellor and drew him to a window alcove concealed behind heavy brocade. "Ah, Amargo, how opportune. Our friend was abandoned suddenly and is all lonely. Won't you keep him company?"
"My pleasure." Chevalier Aguirre's hands went around Alva's waist and he showered kisses on the young man.
Alva did not respond, but did not push Amargo Aguirre away either, unable to decide. His heart was heavy, and even the caresses of a handsome and dissolute man would not lift the weight. Sighing, Alva broke free, apologized, pecked Amargo on the cheek, and left.
His unease grew with every minute. Ithildin had acted so oddly that simple jealousy would not explain it. That his lover, so calm and easy-going, would be enraged by a few pleasantries at a court function ... As if Alva hadn't done the same to everyone, regardless of age and gender. Something was wrong. Something happened – something very, very nasty.
~~~~~~~~~
Note: The New Year in Creede is celebrated on the firs day of the first spring month. There will a scene in a garden next, it's not winter XD
Ekleipsis cast: male model Roger Garth as Ithildin!
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