Ekleipsis (Fantasy Romance - LGBT, manXman)

9.3

The round hall in which Dame Tallian received them, was so magnificently decorated it was instantly clear she loved to dazzle mere mortals as much as any other mage. The floor was white marble with streaks of silver, the pillars were milky-white onyx, and the ceiling was so high, it was hard to see the intricate carvings it was covered with. Huge arched windows took almost all the walls, and the glass was covered with frost patterns, hard to say, man-made or genuine.

The sorceress sat on a throne carved from one gigantic piece of rock crystal. She had on a platinum crown and a dress made of no less than a hundred yards of snow-white moiré. Her face and hair were heavily powdered, eyes and lips painted in pearly tones. A queen of ice and snow, no less. Who needs to rule over this frozen desert anyway, Ithildin thought, and the grandeur immediately paled.

"Welcome to my humble abode," the sorceress singsonged with undisguised mockery.

Kintaro filled his lungs with air and breathed it all out noisily, but without a word, only with a piercing stare. Before, he used to think that the moment the foul enchantress was within his reach, he would immediately wring her neck. But now, in the flesh, she was intimidating. The nomad felt her magic power all too well, with his whole body, like he would feel an upcoming thunderstorm, and it sent shivers down his spine.

Ithildin, good manners a second nature to him, bowed and said, "Thank you for your hospitality, my lady Tallian. We came here to see Chevalier Ahayrre. I hope you'll be so kind as to let us."

"All that long and hard journey of yours was for nothing. Chevalier Ahayrre isn't interested in your company. Didn't he tell you at parting that you shouldn't try and find him?" The sorceress talked lazily, tongue in cheek, visibly unaccustomed to politeness.

"Let us hear him say that in person," Ithildin said firmly.

"Pour us some wine and bring the Young Master here," she said to Khattal who was standing at the door, still like an ice sculpture.

He made a low bow, went through the length of the hall and opened a barely noticeable door.

'Young Master'? Ithildin's heart skipped a beat. He leaned forward and squeezed Kintaro's hand so hard, his fingers turned white.

Chevalier Ahayrre came in, his step light and swift as always, his slender figure gripped in a tight-fitting jacket of scarlet velvet embroidered with gold, his face radiant with beauty, his hair flaming, as if the sun rose in an ice cavern and flooded it with light. His face was lit up with a brilliant smile, but it was not meant for them. After seeing his lovers, the Chevalier stopped dead in his tracks, as if he ran into an invisible wall, and the smile left his face, replaced by confusion.

"Tallian, you've promised they would never find me!" he exclaimed, turning to his mistress and ran up the steps to her throne, as if seeking shelter. He sat at her feet, took her hand in his and kissed it. The gesture was so full of blissful adoration, Ithildin forgot how to breathe.

The world around him grew dim.

But Kintaro put his arm around his shoulders and said with his unmatched, trademark swagger, "How do we know you didn't put him under some sort of a spell? Maybe it's not even him, huh, lady?"

Dame Tallian gave him a bored look.

"I see, you're one of those who can't accept unpleasant reality. Is it so hard to believe someone can reject you? Of course, it's much easier to blame the evil sorcery. But the truth, my dear barbarian, is that Alva wants to stay here. And he will. Right, my precious?"

Alva averted his eyes and murmured, "You shouldn't have come. You've only made it harder on everyone."

But Kintaro wasn't the one to be put off his stride so easily.