A Ballad of the Sun and the Moon

Chapter 8

Rhys Langford had a secret. He was in love. It had started out as something juvenile, infatuation and attraction growing into something that consumed his every thought.

And like any secret it becomes two and three secrets, multiplying into a tangle of lies that one must constantly prune and cultivate lest the truth be discovered.

It was nearing midnight and Rhys lay wide awake in his bed listening to the swaying arc of the grandfather clock with a brass-steel Gridiron pendulum keeping watch just down the hall from his room. The chime was deactivated allowing for sleep, but he knew the time anyway. One of the family guards would be making their rounds soon, give or take a few minutes depending on whether someone had corrected the time; Gridiron pendulums weren't the most accurate of time keepers, but they certainly looked nice.

He stood upon the guard's approach and drew a silk dressing gown from the wardrobe. Binding the sash around his waist, the warm tassels spilling over his fingers in the dark, he opened his chamber door just before the man walked by. He stepped out into the corridor leaving the passage to his room wide open.

"My Lord?"

"Anything to report David?"

"Not a thing."

"Thank you. Carry on."

He watched as the guard progressed further down the hall eventually disappearing into the darkness. He returned to his chambers, only stepping just inside and closing the door behind him. The room was still and quiet and Rhys peered at it, covering every inch with careful eyes.

The open windows were masked with a crème voile permitting even the scarcest of breezing entry while shielding Rhys from prying eyes. They'd been a summer request necessitated by the heat wave, replacing the heavy, winter veronese drapes. Most of the floor was covered with a hand woven rug the design consisting of four cornucopias spilling flowers onto a brick chevron ground.
Against the windows stood a small writing desk which Rhys sometimes used for social correspondence, though really just a table with a top of marble that he placed the occasional glass of scotch.

Over by the hearth Rhys thought he caught a semblance of a flutter. His senses prickled, his breathing deepened as he slunk closer and closer. His hand snapped out only to grip empty air. He let out defeated huff.

"You're a downright vixen," he whispered playfully still trying to pick out her location. "Alright, I give up," he sighed, glancing now quickly about his room.

Rhys' bed was large and featured a crown with a banded acanthus leaf motif reminiscent of the Greek's love of ivy. Atop it was a thin bed linen, the edges finished with a French seam and still wrinkled from Rhy's back. It began to smooth itself as a phantom hand ran across it.

"I am not a vixen Lord Rhys Langford," came a retort. Like sheets of frost thawing from a window revealing the glass beneath so too did the lush skin of a young woman begin to appear.

And this was the greatest secret that Rhys could never reveal, lest she be taken from him.

They'd been a constant in each others lives since they were even capable of forming memories. Only a few days different in age, Zoe and Rhys had found each other a suitable distraction from watching yards of silk and Lampas liséré and atlas weave be examined and chosen for Rue Langford's lastest gown. The Alpha's wife had a fondness for fine clothing.

Their friendship grew through games of hide-and-seek and find-the-rock and the two began to look forward to the order of a new dress. One day Zoe's mother forbid her to come with, insisting she was old enough to stay home and best practice her needlepoint.

They still found time and ways to meet, Rhys regailing her with his experiences at Eaton boy's college and her sharing with him the latest gossip of the shire. After Rhys Turned for the first time, Zoe was the first person he showed his scales of emerald and azure. And when Zoe's Gift emerged Rhys was the only she showed. He thought that was when he realized he loved her. He was a member of the Alpha family and their kind was supposed to love power and Gifts. But when she looked at him with terrified eyes wondering, he knew he loved her long before that and promised to hide her secret until they could wed.

They staged a nasty, public falling out under the pretense of Rhys being a haughty snob, biding their time until they could truly come together. It was the safest course of action, and by all outward appearances one they maintained to this very day.

But in the secret of the night, in the tentative safety of his chambers, Rhy moved towards her. If there was any doubt of his desire one only need listen for the vigorous thumping of his beating heart thrashing about in his chest when he saw her – especially like this, naked and in his room. Black eyes, pearly blonde hair, skin of porcelain, the body of a caryatid without a cloak. She seemed too pure to touch as he stood before her, a goddess casting judgment on his every move.

So she touched him, slipping her hand between the folds of his robe, feeling his heaving chest, the course hairs and firm muscle. She looked up at him daring him further.

"If not a vixen, then what are you?" he asked, in awe of her icy perfection.

She raised an eyebrow and smirked an invitation.

He kissed her and it was anything but reticent. The force of it pushed her butt against the bed, his bed, relieving her from her feet. She teetered on the corner and wrapped a strong calf behind his thigh urging him to her.

But Rhys was stronger and had other plans. He lifted her effortlessly and tossed her roughly further onto the bed. He shed the robe and grabbed one of her feet, beginning at her ankle, biting and grazing her skin with his teeth.

She wiggled and writhed pleased with the sensation despite not making a single sound. When he reached her inner thighs she pulled one leg up and the other to the side, as wide as she could giving him perfect access to her sex.

He rested a hand in the crook of her knee and pinned the other leg to the bed with his palm. He closed his mouth over her folds in one thorough movement causing her hips to buck and her back to arch. He dug his fingers into her skin keeping her open as she tried to close her thighs due to the sheer sensation, while he lapped her to pleasure with his tongue.

She was caught in the terrible tight torment of it all, feeling the mounting burn ebb and flow as he varied his pace. He was maddening, a downright pirate holding her treasure for ransom. She could feel that male part of him, satiny and hard against her calf teasing an unknown delight, demanding the same in return.

He bit at her now and that taut coil inside her released like a compressed spring. He knew her well, knew her body, how to give her pleasure and how to make her moan. So he knew, like a well-evolved instinct, to place a hand over her mouth once her fingers gripped his hair with a new desperation and the strength of her squirmings shifted to something uncontainable. Her breath was hot on his skin filling him with satisfaction, her scream contained to his palm.

He crawled up alongside her laying on his side, his head propped against his elbow. He looked at her with eyes of glowing jade, sensual.

She recovered in gasps and reached down between her legs feeling her own slickness, marveling at his accomplishments. Her hand met his hip becoming a tender coercion encouraging her lover to his back. She crawled on top of him holding herself at a distance on her knees.

They kissed deeply, tongues entwined in perfect symphony. She cupped his face as he cupped hers. She reached down grasping him, guiding him between her legs, teasing her own entry with his smooth tip. It was a temptation they had fought for years, yet she was finally permitted to give in. She began to lower herself, ready at last to have him, only to feel a tight grip on her hips as she was tossed to the side.

"Zoe, you know we can't," he said, regrettably.

"But your brother is-"

"He is not mated."

Her brows drew together. "What could they really do to us?"

"Plenty. We've been through this. The council would have no issue with a public whipping, weeks in the Dead Room, or worse, taking you away from me and giving you to my brother. And do you think he would intervene? Show me mercy because of our shared blood? He'd think me at best a deviant for breaking tradition and at worst a traitor if he ever found out what you can do. You know how he is. Devoted to duty. I thought with the arrival of that woman we might have a chance, but-"

It was a practice from an older time, the eldest, the Alpha heir marrying first. It was meant to ensure he had access to an Alpha female hindering a younger brother from mating with one and rising up against him. It was meant to keep the peace, facilitating a line of succession and might have made sense when the drákon took mates at a younger age and the women could all Turn.

"But what?" interuppted Zoe, frustrated.

"The council insisted he get proof. It was the first time I thought the model Alpha, my brother would ignore the will of the council, ignore our rules. He was so convinced she could Turn. I didn't believe it either. But they were right in their caution. She can't. She told him. I don't know the details, but she is just what everyone says she is."

The popular rumor in the shire was that Sunniva was a thin-blooded waif who posed enough threat to be brought in, but was of little consequence to the drákon way of things.

Zoe raised her eyes at this. "Don't be so sure about that. I saw her."

"You saw her Turn?" Rhys rose quickly to his elbows.

"No. Not precisely. Her eyes though. Just her eyes for a moment, they flashed white and bright."

It was one of the known Gifts of their kind, rare and, despite being basically useless, was considered extraordinary. Rhys had the ability as did his brother and sisters. In fact the entire Alpha family could. For the drákon it represented the mingling of the two halves. Not one or the other. Not beast or man, but both seamlessly dancing in blurred lines. It was a reminder that they weren't truly human no matter how tame they seemed.

Rhys pulled Zoe close. Closer than she already was and placed a kiss on her forehead. For the first time he felt a sliver of hope, holding his secretly-betrothed in his arms.

"How will you tell him?" she asked.

Zoe was born the daughter of a seamstress, to a simple life of sufficient comfort without high enough standing to be in a position of consequence. She'd never been exposed to the kind of conniving that Rhys had been submerged in since the beginning, the inner workings of drákon government being reserved for males of high status. It hadn't even interested her. That is, until her Gifts emerged. But such skill required practice and knowledge so in the spirit of self preservation, she reverted to Rhys on such matters.

"I'll think of something. Don't worry."

****

Rhys made sure he arrived early to breakfast. He left his usual daily folded and lying on a side table where he would read it later. The food was brought out dish by dish in the usual silver platters. It was Wednesday, so offal would be served. He wasn't keen on eating innards, even though many considered it a delicacy. He'd stick to the pastries and his usual coffee, but first for sake of politeness he would wait for her.

Sunniva came punctually wearing wine-colored muslin that the maid no doubt had chosen for her. Her face was lacking rouge, powder and kohl giving her a tameless look. Despite that, there was something else different. Her skin was brighter perhaps or eyes gleamed with something terrible. Or maybe it was just the knowledge he now had of the woman he first thought to be a simple halfling.

He stood as she entered and offered a cordial smile. "Good morning."

She said nothing in return, her face guarded, eyes hooded.

He moved to her regular chair pulling it out as a polite gentleman would, tucking it in as she sat down.

She removed the lid off the serving tray where the offal had been carefully arranged, spearing a few cuts of liver with a two-pronged fork onto her plate.

Looking at Rhys with a supine quality to her face, she rhetorically asked, "I take it the Earl won't be joining us today."

"No. I'm afraid he won't be," Rhys confirmed, flicking open his bleached napkin.

"I didn't expect as much," she replied, placing her own upon her lap.

Rhys snatched a warm croissant from a basket and began slowly covering it with orange marmalade.

"Forgive me for prying, but did you two quarrel?"

Her eyes snapped to him full of malice. "I find it hard to believe that you aren't aware of what transgressed between us."

Rhys met her with an almost passable smile of innocence. "Kimber does not speak to me on such matters." He hadn't in detail anyways.

"Then we've nothing of importance to discuss." She cut the pungent liver into small bites, examining each piece before placing it gently into her mouth.

Rhys took another pastry, this time a scone with wild blueberries some of the maids had found in the woods a day past. He tore it in half and took a bite. "He adores you, you know," he remarked, still not finished chewing.

Sunniva kept her eyes fixed on her plate, the details of gilded flowers on the rim surrounding her meal.

"Look, I don't mean to pry-"

"But you do don't you?" she snapped. She lowered her cutlery and leaned back in her chair. "What is it that you have to gain from meddling?"

"A happy brother," he confessed.

The creases around her eyes softened.

"I know him better than anyone and I've never seen him so happy since you've arrived. I'll be frank, he's been with other women, but no one has caught his attention like you."

Because you can Turn, he thought, one which he was careful not to betray.

"Never before has he been so enamored, so attentive, it's like he's a different man, a better man. Look, I'm sure you've both just had a misunderstanding."

Sunniva opened her mouth to argue then shut it again. Her brows drew together and she bit her lip.

"Let me speak to him," he suggested.

Sunniva sighed. "Thank you, Rhys."

****

Rhys found him down in the undercroft. It was here he had spent his time since he'd quarreled with the girl. He held Herte in his hands staring into the blue diamond's depths as if it could offer him answers.

The drákon had found, in the course of their history, a few unique, special gems. For some their power was known, others held a mystery to unravel. And Herte, The Heart of the Tribe, was their most cherished. It held a special place in the Alpha family, as Kimber's mother had discovered its secret. It could bring back a drákon on the brink of death, healing him, making him whole.

Kimber wondered if it could heal him, take away the pain that seemed to consume him.

He was ashamed of his actions, so desirous of Sunniva he'd nearly lost control. He'd convinced himself of her power, that phantom bright that he believed was there. It was a ridiculous thought, a drákon being able to suppress their brilliance. In his stupor Kimber didn't even realize the hypocrisy of it, seeing as he could. The worst part though, is he couldn't be near her, afraid that he would lose that civilized part of himself and take her despite what she was. He still wanted her terribly, an enduring ache that would last lifetimes.

"Speak to me," Rhys prompted, approaching him from behind.

"I've nothing to say," came a rough voice from the stranger that had become his brother.

"That's poking bogey!" insisted Rhys. "You've not slept properly since she came, you've not eaten for two days, you're clearly of unsound mind. Now tell me what happened!"

Kimber told him what had occurred two nights ago down to every horrible detail.

He and Rhys had made the occasional lewd joke to one another, and years past shared vague descriptions of exploits in the woods with young maidens - typical of young men boasting of their escapades. But this issue was embarrassing and private and painful for Kimber to convey.

Rhys let himself fall back against the wall and released an astonished huff. "Oh Kim. And you left her there, knees up and skirts around her thighs?"

Kimber nodded reluctantly unable to look at his brother. He turned paler than he already was, to a ghastly white. He thumbed Herte as a placid comfort.

"Ohhh Kim," berated Rhys once more. He rubbed the back of his neck in thought."You must go to her."

"Have you heard nothing of what I've said?" he asked, as if completely insulted. "She can't Turn! She made a fool of me. There is no point in her staying here. She can't stay here. As soon as-"

"You've made a fool of yourself! And you're even dafter than I thought," snapped Rhys.

Kimber cocked his head towards his brother. He supposed it did him some good to have someone besides his parents with the gumption to speak so boldly to him. He regarded his brother in silence waiting for his next words.

Rhys shook his head with a self-satisfied smile. "She lied to you. It's as plain as day."

The thought never occurred to Kim. He was Alpha and if she could Turn, then she was therefore Alpha as well. They'd be drawn to each other, an irresistible urge bound in instinct tying them together.

"Why would she lie? She has no reason to." He realized the stupidity of his question before his brother even spoke.

"She has plenty of reason to. You asked a lone dragon, a woman who has never known others like herself, one that has maybe never revealed to anyone what she is...you ask just before you are about to enter her if she can Turn. Dear brother, I'd lie in her position as well. And not the good kind of lie."

Kimber placed Herte back on its stone altar.

It made perfect sense. Everything she was, everything he'd experienced of her was the truth. Not his own wishful thinking, instead a great power she kept behind a barrier. His brother was right, he'd been daft and rash and impulsive.

"Kim, I can empathize. All this waiting must be quite difficult," Rhys acknowledged.

"You can't even begin to fathom it," Kim said, finally turning to look his brother in the eyes.

For the most minuscule of seconds a hatred stabbed at Rhy's heart. He'd never envied his brother; his responsibilities, the title he would inherit, the decisions he would be forced to make, the actions he had to take. But in this moment he despised his brother for having been born first. Rhys had carried the knowledge for years that Zoe would – by the laws of their people – already be his had he been firstborn, just as she already was in heart and soul.

"Then you must go to her and do whatever it takes to make her yours."

****

Her face hurt from her ridiculously over-acted smile. Sunniva kept a chipper pace, because she wanted the brother to believe she was chipper, skipping off to her room like a smitten girl with a bouquet of flowers from a handsome boy.

Her stomach gurgled, but not because of the food she'd eaten. In fact she loved rich innards; hearts and livers and kidneys abundant in iron and fat filling her to satisfaction. All that the breakfast morsels had been missing was a nice, smoky flavor.

No, the discomfort in her stomach was simply a manifestation of anger stemming from uncertainty. This place, Kimber, his family, everything simply made no sense as if it held some dreadful, terrible secret.

The gurgle came again as she took the turn to her room. She could wait there of course, until Kimber sought her out, but she'd be damned if she gave him patience.

The brother, who had all but ignored Sunniva since her arrival, seemed suddenly determinately keen on bringing the two together. He'd smiled kindly and played on the sympathies of a loving family. He'd portrayed what she had with Kimber as love, but she wasn't fooled. It was primal and carnal and nothing more. She'd realized this after his rejection, that she knew nothing about him, about this place, and despite it all, she was so willing to let him bed her.

And now, with the revelation of Rhy's meddling, she had no intention of talking to the blaggard, so she continued past her chambers, out of the ladies guest wing into a new section of the house.

Sunniva was never one for plans, at least not long term ones anyways. She was an opportunist, an attitude that suited her nomadic lifestyle. So, when she began to open the doors to each room in the newly discovered wing of the house she wasn't really sure what she was looking for.

The rooms varied greatly. Someone had taken great care decorating each and every one uniquely and with great splendor. They were all themed of course; the Orient, the ocean, one a hubris of periwinkles and posies, another horrid green with pastel hues vomited everywhere.

To Sunniva it was all the same. Finery and luxury coated upon finery and luxury, someone wishing to say "look how grand I am, marvel at my greatness."

A servant, likely a chamber maid judging by her livery, passed by with challenging eyes. Sunniva prickled prepared to answer, already teetering on that precipice. If there was protocol regarding such matters she didn't know. She didn't care. A swipe of the hand to the neck, quick and easy, would be all that was necessary. She'd squeeze, she'd lift and when the woman yielded she'd release her. And if she didn't...

She reminded herself that she wasn't here to draw attention. Quite the opposite actually. Her teeth clenched as she forced herself to admire an oil painting clinging to the wainscotted wall. What it depicted she couldn't make out, her thoughts completely consumed. The maid passed and Sunniva released a fraction of tension held in her fists.

Another room, this time with greenish-gray walls and an abundance of Chinese porcelain. It seemed Chasen manor had no end.

As she moved further into the wing she caught a familiar scent outside of a lacquered door. The scent was stale suggesting its source hadn't been there for two hours at least.

Rhys. The brother. Like Kimber, but less potent, less insisting of dominance. It could have been his room. It could have been one he'd been in. She couldn't be certain until further inspection.

She listened first and when she heard nothing she cast out her senses. Again, nothing. Her usual guards hadn't even followed.

Her fingers gripped the brass handle, a vibrating volition against her palm, and turned. Like an errant autumn leaf she slipped in the room closing the door behind her with a skittish jolt as the latch connected with the frame. She'd crept around houses likes this dozens of times but never in a dragon's lair.

She wasn't sure what she would find in there; a diary, letters, anything informative. The room was certainly more lived in than the many others she'd investigated. A bed with a rustled sheet. A writing desk emptier than usual. A door to a dressing chamber still cracked. A duchesse brisée with worn spots and a book atop it, its gilded titled gleaming. Sunniva ran her fingers across it all. Still, there was nothing of interest.

She stuck the tip of her thumb into her mouth and bit down hard on the end of the nail tearing it too close to the skin. The tang of pain was there, the reddened skin throbbing from exposure. She grimaced at this, but it was mostly masked by adrenaline.

Her eyes took one last sweep of the room finally falling upon a pile of soiled clothing reeking of Rhys clumped in a corner waiting to be washed. It wasn't a well thought out plan but it was a plan nonetheless. With Rhys' garments and face she could move in places she otherwise couldn't.

She gathered the trousers, shirt and waistcoat. It couldn't hurt the authenticity of it all, but she left the more intimate undergarments not feeling quite that committed. She intended to hide everything under her skirts and find a nice place to change when a frisson of energy scratched at her skin paired with the sound of footsteps. Of course, she thought, the room needed to be tidied up.

Sunniva violently tore her dress off, stitches popping, fabric ripping, and stuffed the damn thing between the mattress and box spring just in time for the door to open.

"Oh, apologies my Lord. I thought you'd be out," a young maid blurted, red rising to her cheeks.

'Rhys' flashed a rakish grin at the girl with sparkling eyes then raised his eyebrows.

"Of course. My sincere apologies," said the maid.

Sunniva altered her voice to a seductive, masculine purr.

"No harm done, love. Off you go then."

The maid tossed him a curt glance below his belly and smiled before closing the door.

Sunniva looked down. He should be thankful that I was more than generous, she thought.

She threw Lord Rhy's clothing on as fast as she could and left the room.

There was a small staircase not too far – likely a private one just for the family – leading down to a long gallery with portraits of stern looking men lining the wall. Wafts of geese and walnut drifted by and that was certainly something she could work with. She followed the source leading to the study. It was a good start. There had to be something in there.

A bespectacled man sat at an escritoire – dwarfed by the much grander desk in the center – wielding a pen and quill, scratching and scribbling out text.

Sunniva had the Rhys-ensemble, she looked the part, with a gold brocade waistcoat on her shoulders, eyes of jade, chest puffed, nose up, exuding that air of aristocracy. "What are you doing here?" she asked with authority.

"I'm just making copies for the Alpha's records," the man replied.

"Of course. I'd like to go over it if you have one ready."

"Certainly," he said handing over an ink-covered parchment.

They were minutes, a record of discussion among the leading men of the tribe.

**
Transcript from Special Session of the Drákon Council, called This Noonday, July 24, 1778

As faithfully transcribed by Council Scribe

Sir Nicholas Beaton

In Session: Sir Rufus Book; Calvin Acton; Theodore Henry; John Chapman; Erik Sheehan; Adam Richards; Anton Larousse; Claude Grady; Devon Rickman; Marcus Danks; Lord Rhys Langford: Lord Kimber Langford, E.oC.

Without: Christoff, Marquess of Langford

[In the absence of the Marquess of Langford, eldest son Lord Chasen presides as Alpha]

Drákon female of initially unknown origin was recently discovered by Alpha heir, Kimber Langford. Suniva Williams, confirmed to be offspring of Tamlane Williams and unknown human, was retrieved with moderate ease and returned to Darkfrith on June 23, 1778. Female exhibits limited abilities: increased olfactory and auditory capabilities, above human strength and speed, aura present but lacking.

Marital status: unmated

Status of Turn: purported Positive, unconfirmed

Status of Dragon: purported Positive, unconfirmed

Status of additional Gifts: unknown

Age: estimated 25

Request made by biological father to release subject to his custody.

Request denied.

Motion made before the Council to wed Suniva Williams to Alpha Heir Kimber Langford as soon as possible.

Not approved. Evidence required of Alpha status of female. Further containment to Alpha's domicile recommended.

Motion to further question Tamlane Williams about possible additional offspring.

Passed.
**

"Does everything look in order Sir?"

Sunniva cocked her jaw. She swallowed her rage, finding it more difficult than forcing a dry pine cone down her throat.

"You missed an 'n' in the female's name," she said with emphasis.

"Oh. It's an odd name I must admit."

"It's Northern, she replied snidely, "meaning Gift of the Sun." She slung the parchment into a spin towards the scribe, the minutes landing atop his feathered quill. "Amend that, Mr. Beaton!"

She strode out of the study before she did something regrettable.

She wanted to Turn and flee, but she wasn't certain she could outpace and elude hundreds of determined dragons. And Kimber, dreadful and horrid, would exact what he considered his right when he caught her.

She refused to shed tears over him. She refused. But she did anyway. Just one. She'd allow herself that.

Dragons were meant to be free, to roam the skies as they wished. They were rulers of higher beasts, and yet they still treated their women like chattel. She would not become some noble's broodmare - dragon or no. She had a critical piece of information at least: if Kimber heeded the will of the council, he needed her to Turn. And if she never Turned, she need never wed.

She had to go somewhere safe to someone she could trust. She couldn't stay at Chasen any longer. She needed someone who knew this place, their rules, their abilities, their weaknesses. She needed to find her father.