Ardent strode from the entrance hall of the Palace of the Moon to Skein’s private quarters, silently snarling at the Queen’s teleport blocks in the Palace. They arrived at almost exactly the scheduled hour. Diamond of Winter awaited them in her antechamber, with a scowl on its crystalline face. Cope with it, glass-guy. You want people to be more prompt, you can let them port to the meeting spot. And we’re not even late. Technically.

The adjunct made them wait for a quarter hour anyway, during which Ardent checked her remaining messages. There was one from Whispers Rain that made her heart melt. Rain thanked her for the lovely evening, and asked after Miro’s health, and whether or not she’d been able to do anything about the intruders. I wonder if sexual jealousy is part of the Sun Etherium nowadays? I think marriage is still important to their High Court. At least it was when the Sun Queen made a big point of divorcing Jinokimijin and tumbling him from the High Court, forty-odd years ago. Whispers Rain had never been the possessive sort: she loved sharing, and was always encouraging Ardent to get into other relationships, whether friendships, casual flings, or romances. That was one of the reasons Rain couldn’t leave the Moon Etherium: too many other people there that she loved.

Ardent had been born in a time when jealousy was still seen as normal in the Moon Etherium. Fey had paired with just one other fey in relationships that were, at least in theory, sexually exclusive. To hear White Rose, who was her senior by at least a century, talk of it, it was a rule more observed in the breach. They contended that multiple relationships were common even then, but rife with lies and hypocrisy. After immortality became available to everyone by the middle of the eleventh century, exclusive, permanent, two-person marriages became increasingly rare. By the twelfth they were no longer held up even as an ideal.

Ardent’s own view of a single enduring marriage was more idealistic, and she’d held onto the desire for one for some decades after they became unfashionable. She’d been given to possessiveness and jealousy then, too. Rain was the one who’d broken her of that habit. Rain, who behaved as if sharing a lover was not merely a hardship to be tolerated but a gift to be treasured. If I’d tried harder, returned to the Etherium more often, could I have made you see Try Again as a lover with whom you shared me?

She had no idea how Miro felt on the subject. Given the state Rain and I were in when he interrupted us last night, he can’t have assumed he’s my only lover at present. I’ll have to ask him about it some time later. When we’re in private.

After shaking her head to clear her thoughts, Ardent opened her next message from Play. It was also from last night. “Thought some more about how to stop your pet from getting stolen. There’s no way to ward a fey, far as I know. But if you keep him on a leash all the time, you can ward the collar and leash, so someone’d have to break or bypass those wards to cut him loose of you. Anti-theft wards aren’t as secure as anti-trespassing, but they’re pretty good. Another option: shift him to something small, so you can carry him close. That’d extend to him some of the benefits of your own evasiveness and invulnerability. Not as much as your clothing gets, but still. About what your bag would get, while you’re carrying it. Anyway, you’ll want to keep him close to you. We still haven’t come up with a vault that’s as good as a fey is for keeping things safe.”

There was one more message from Play after that, this one from the morning. “I can’t do anything else for you,” it said. “Don’t message me. Don’t visit me. Stay away from me. And from Storm, too.” Startled, she read it again, and then a few more times. It was so unexpected that she found herself studying it for signs of a cipher, some hidden message in the blunt, unambiguous text.

Miro touched her arm. “My lady? What’s the matter?”

Ardent shook her head; she didn’t want to talk about it here, where they would be overheard. He didn’t press her on it. She was still pondering the implications when Diamond of Winter finally called her in to attend the Queen.

---

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After that, Ardent put her chiton back on and woke Sessile. Miro made himself a new outfit in the everyday fashion of Sun Etherium. He offered additional information while Sessile returned them to the Moon Etherium. “Building this sort of extractor isn’t a matter of a few minute’s work with aether. Many of the pieces need to be natural materials, not aether-made. If she already had everything she needed, she wouldn’t need to gather natural ivory or alabaster now. And it takes seasoning to reach the full potential, which requires time and use. That she made that ward-siphoner for her lackey suggests that she’s far enough along to begin the seasoning process, but the construction cannot be complete. We have some time yet. Days, probably.”

“But not weeks,” Ardent said, grimly.

“Not weeks. No.”

She sighed, slumping in her chair. “Mph. Well, it’s not like she’d hunt for this stuff herself. If we could find her supplier before she picked up a package, I could use Play’s scryer on the shipment to see where it went. Though I’m concerned that she knew to check if you were being traced or watched. Suppose it could be coincidence. Those are the most common information-gathering enchantments and I used variants on them often when I was Justiciar.” Ardent rubbed her face with one hand.

“The extractor will be fragile while it’s under construction, especially since she’s started the seasoning. She wouldn’t want to move it, or move the phoenix rose, until it’s done, or she’d have to start all over from the beginning.”

“That’s something, I suppose.”

When they reached the Moon Etherium, Ardent had Sessile port directly to her apartment. Her living room had a hole in the glamour on one wall; underneath it was a new steel wall. She patted Sessile’s nose after they got out, and set Try Again for her destination. “Time for you to go home, little girl,” she told the earthserpent. “Much as I’d like to have Storm fix you up properly, I think you’ll be safer outside of the Etherium for now. You port as far out as you can, all right?”

“Aww. All right.” Sessile nosed at her hand, and departed.

With a sigh, Ardent flopped into the couch-pit and drew the rune to receive messages again. A flurry of messengers in different shapes and sizes poured in on her at once. Ardent massaged her temples and sorted through the pile, taking them one after another. She groused, “I need to make you my secretary.”

“I shall be glad to oblige in whatever role my lady desires of me.” He took a seat on the rim of the sunken couch, resting his hands to either side and dangling his legs beside her.

She wrinkled her nose at him, then grimaced as she read the first will-o-wisp message – the one he’d sent the night before. The messages were only readable by their intended recipient; looking over her shoulder he could see nothing but unintelligible squiggles. She swept the first message into her bag, and moved to the next, grimacing again.

“What’s wrong?”

“Just the messages from you and Play telling me not to be an idiot and stop messages while you’re being attacked.”

Miro leaned down to squeeze her shoulder. “I cannot vouch for Play, but I am confident that was not how I worded mine.”

“It’s how you should have worded it.” She covered his hand with hers and let Play’s first message evaporate, and half-laughed at the next three. “Poor Play. She was getting increasingly annoyed at me for using a fifteen-year-old messenger-block spell. ‘Every current variant of this spell allows for emergency override, under various conditions. Why are you using an antique? And if you’re going to use an antique, why doesn’t it have any of the loopholes every other antique does? I swear it’d be easier to intercept your messages than send you one to say Hi your friend is getting killed. I’m going to try breaking your apartment ward instead, it’ll be less frustrating’.”

“Why doesn’t your antique have the loopholes?” Miro asked her, curiously.

“Because Play told me what they were back when I was a Justiciar, and I tailored my messenger-block to prevent them.” She sighed again. “Never thought I’d regret making life harder for pranksters. Anyway, I’m sure it’s not impenetrable, especially not to Play. Just not quickly penetrated.” Ardent released the message to turn to mist, and looked at the next. “Aha! This is the good one. Play isolated the aether signatures and physical descriptions of each of the intruders.” Ardent conjured a notebook and duplicated the information on the aether signatures. She passed the notebook to Miro and tucked the original message into her bag. “Not that you can do much with it, sugar, unless we go to the trouble of making a verification charm for you, but just in case.” She opened the next message. “Nice! Play also sent me their names, list of commonly-used forms for each, and the history of complaints against them lodged with the justiciary. They’re all young-ish, judging by the names. The minotaur is Broken Song, and usually takes a woman’s form with peacock wings and tail. The wolf is Water’s Remorse, usually a dragon of various types and genders, most often wingless with blue scales and a spinal mane of misty hair. The panther-man is Stalks Hunter, has three different typical forms. Including a black & white merman.” She stopped, still looking at the message.

“What of the complaint history?”

“Oh – um – kinda long for Stalks and Remorse, not much on Song. Stalks is a blighted boil of a fey. I remember him. He used to kidnap and enslave mortals. I freed three. After that, we had him surveilled by golems for years. But Play says he’s not under watch any more. Queen’s orders. Considered ‘reformed’ now.” Ardent clenched her fingers into a fist and snarled. “Right. Play says to come see her today if I want to track them down.” She frowned at the message, then fished one of the earlier ones out again and looked at it. She dropped her hand from Miro’s, her face slowly draining of expression.

“What is it?” Miro folded his hands in his lap, trying to cover a sudden sense of apprehension.

“It’s…Miro, you told me this morning that your assailants looked like a six-armed humanoid panther, a minotaur, and a tentacled wolf. Right?”

“Correct.”

“But the message you sent last night said one of them was a merman. A black-and-white merman.”

Oh. Pustulence. “My apologies – I hadn’t gotten a good look at any of them when I sent that. My brief glimpse was wildly off.”

“Yeah. That’d make sense.” She drummed her fingers against the sofa, and spoke her next words slowly, as if they were being dragged out of her. “Except that Stalks Hunter’s usual form is a black-and-white merman.”

“I did catch the first part of his name, when the wolf accidentally spoke it.”

“After you sent this message.” Ardent turned her face up to his, and the look in her black eyes was almost unbearable. Not just suspicion, but fear. Fear of betrayal, fear that he’d been using her. She knows I’m hiding something. “Miro, how did you know what he normally looked like, when you sent this?”

“…perhaps he trueshifted between my first glimpse and when I next saw him properly?”

Ardent shook her head. “No. Play would’ve detected the shift when she did the analysis. Same way she knew what physical appearances matched which aether signature. Miro…” She trailed off, her eyes pleading for the truth.

He looked away, unable to withstand the heartbreak in her expression, the fear of what other lies he might be concealing. The fear that his affection, too, was a deceit. Forty-four years I’ve kept this secret from everyone but my father, and I betrayed it to her after only three days.

But I know I can trust her.

And now she knows she can’t trust me. Miro swallowed hard. “May I entrust you with a secret, my lady?”

Ardent reached up to take his chin in her hand, and turned his face back to hers. “You’ve entrusted me with a whole lot more than that, sugar,” she said, softly, fingers straying to the pulse in his throat. “I’ll keep your secret, long as it’s not about endangering the Etherium or somesuch.”

“No, this is…personal. I knew Stalks Hunter’s everyday form because I can always verify people. Regardless of what they look like. It’s a Gift. I hadn’t even seen the shape he wore during the intrusion yet, I just knew he was the same person as that merman at the party.”    

“A Gift.” Ardent covered her mouth. “From your father’s line. The reason the Sun Queen wanted a child from him. You do have soulsight.”    

Miro took a deep breath, and nodded.

“But why – why keep it a secret? Isn’t that what your mother had been hoping for from you? Or – is she privy to it?”

He curled his lip back. “No. The only person other than you who knows is Jinokimijin. The Gift didn’t come to me until I was nine, and by then my mother had already given up on my having it. My grandfather had been revealed as a fraud. My great-grandfather never returned from the mortal land he’d disappeared to. Half the fey in Sun Etherium do not believe soulsight is real. It was too late to save my father’s marriage. My grandfather’s hoax had already demonstrated that it is all too easy to fake the ability to read the measure of another’s soul. That I can identify fey without error – that I can prove. That I have soulsight? There’s no fey in the shard who can challenge or verify such a claim. If I tried, I’d spend my life contending with accusations of fraud. And…” He had to force himself to finish the sentence. “I do not want to serve the Sun Queen with my Gift. She is not worthy of it.”

Ardent put her hand on his knee; he was still sitting on the rim of the sunken couch, while she sat below him. She rested her chin on her fingers, looking up at him. “Heartless, is she?”

“You do not understand. My lady…I do not like to speak of what I see with soulsight, for the reasons aforementioned. Sometimes even I doubt the accuracy of my own vision. But I will tell you this: Queen Eletanene of the Sun Host has the most corrupt soul of any person I’ve ever seen. And that includes the fey who wanted to rape me last night.”

Ardent stared at him, wide-eyed. “That’s some condemnation. I mean, ‘make your kids compete for who you love best’ is awful, but ‘torturer and rapist’ is a whole different category of vile. What must she have done?”

“She stranded her own father in the mortal world, at the least. Perhaps killed him, or arranged for his death. And that was not the first nor the worst of her crimes.” Miro gazed through the transparent walls to the sunlit day outside of the apartment.

“And that’s your mother.”

“Yes. That is my mother. You perceive why I am uninterested in offering her any tool that might further her ambitions. Even if she believed my Gift were true. Which is far from given.” He shook his head. “Even I am hesitant to rely on it overmuch. It’s too easy to become judgmental. And my own soul, what I can see of it, is hardly flawless.”

“I don’t suppose any of us are.” Ardent stroked his leg, comfortingly. Yours is, Miro wanted to say, but he couldn’t. She won’t believe me. She’ll think it mere flattery, and be more likely to consider me a fraud after all. Please don’t ask me what your soul looks like, my lady. “You can’t see your own soul?”

He shook his head. “Parts of it. Mirrors do not reflect the soul, so what you can see of your own body, more or less. Somewhat less than more; shapeshifting does not affect how much of my own soul I can see. May we return to the matter of the assailants, my lady?”

“All right.” Ardent caressed his calf again, and then turned back to the pile of messages. “Let me see what else we’ve got.” She flicked the next message open. “Play says that my home wards are a disaster zone. She put a patch over the biggest hole, but I should rebuild them from scratch, or maybe just move. Ouch.” The next message came from a different sender: a little messenger fairy presenting an unrolled scroll. Ardent smacked her forehead with one hand. “Aaaand Skein wants to see me today. Just like she told me last night. And I forgot. Good job, me.” She wrinkled her nose at the fairy. “For a private audience this morning. Which I have not…quite…missed yet. Blight.”

“Not before the High Court?”

“No, and…I guess that’s a good thing. I don’t think the High Court meets today anyway. But at least it means I won’t have to pretend to be cordial with Fallen. I hope.” She sent an answer to the Queen’s adjunct, then summoned their costumes from the High Court two days ago and dressed both of them. She changed the colors – hers to varied greens, his to cream and gold. “I have no idea what proper dress is for a private audience in the fall of 1253. There’s no time to consult with Katsura, so we’ll just have to fake it and hope for the best.” She stood and held out a hand to him. “Let’s go.”

Miro touched his collar. “The leash.”

Ardent made a face and touched the white-gold collar to attach an ornamental chain to it. She linked the other end to a matching bracelet around her wrist. “Not like I want you out of arm’s reach anyway.”

He stepped down onto the couch to stand before her; with her standing on the floor of the sunken couch pit, their heads were about on level. She swept him into her embrace and surprised him with a kiss. He looped his arms around her neck in return, welcoming the intimacy with gratitude, easing his fear that he’d lost her trust. When she broke it off, she smiled at him, then shifted him to one arm and ported them away.

---

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Afterwards, Miro curled on top of Ardent, feeling better than he had in weeks – or ever, perhaps. He pulled a blanket over them and all but purred as Ardent stroked his hair. He raised his head enough to look into her face and smiled, absurdly happy. Even the sobering thought of the Path that lay before him could not dim his joy in the moment. “Thank you.”

Ardent laughed and kissed his nose. “You’re welcome. Silly man. Thank you.”

He snuggled down with his head beneath her chin, resting a hand over one of her delightful breasts. He loved the way they felt; that unfashionable droop left them much softer and squishier than the more popular high, firm ones. Then again, they’re part of Ardent. I would find a reason to adore any shape she wore, he thought, wryly. Miro gave a contented sigh, then said. “We should return to the Moon Etherium.”

Ardent wrapped her arms about him. “Oh, sugar. If this was supposed to make me feel better about taking you back into that pustulent blighthole, I have bad news for you. How about I go back alone and nose around? I can see what Play came up with.”

“We know Fallen can break the wards on your apartment. That must be an ability she powered with the phoenix rose. It’s only a matter of time before she unlocks its capability to bypass other defenses we take for granted. Like fey evasion. Which you’ve already proven can be bypassed with channeled power. I know you don’t like it, Ardent. But you need a channel of your own,” Miro said, softly.

She grimaced and sat up, still snuggling him. She pulled over some pillows to lean back against. “Tell me what exactly happened to you last night.”

Miro hesitated. “Promise me we will still go back to the Etherium after I do?”

Ardent made a face at him. She laid her fingers against his cheek. The furrows were gone now, the flesh healed as if it had never been injured, but Miro realized she was tracing where Cat had clawed him. He shivered, and she stopped, curling her legs and arms around him to cradle him closer. “I don’t want to see you hurt again. I need to know what went wrong. How to keep you safe next time. If there is a next time.”

“Safer,” Miro said, voice low. “Perfect safety is not an option available to me – or you, even, given the phoenix rose. But we still have to go back.”

She sighed, closing her eyes. “Safer, then. Sorry, Miro. I’m not as good at being insanely brave as you are.”

He looked into the radiance of her soul, bonfire-strong, unscarred by fear. Not because she’d never been afraid, but because she’d never allowed fear to compel her to do something she knew was wrong. You are much better at bravery than I am, my lady, he thought, but he didn’t try to tell her that. Instead, he took a deep breath and explained, as dispassionately as he could, the events of the attack.

She swore when he described his inability to contact her. “I never should have stopped messages. And we need to give you a way to contact me despite a stop, too.”

“You thought the apartment was secure. So did I. There’s no reason to blame yourself, my lady.”

Ardent compressed her full lips in a grim expression. “Go on.”

He went through each event in order, including that the assailants had not believed him when he said she’d sent the message he received from Play. Miro did not speculate on Whispers Rain’s involvement. Ardent didn’t remark on the timing either, except to snarl at it as unfortunate.

When he finished, she sat in silence for a moment, still snuggling him in her lap and stroking his back. The fur on her legs was pleasantly soft against his skin, not at all like a goat’s. “I’m wondering if we can use Sun aether to ward you, like an object,” she said at last. “It works on golems, but not on mortals. I’ve never tried it on a fey. And it might not help, since they still hurt Sessile. But it’d be better than nothing.”    

“I am certainly amenable to the attempt,” Miro said. Ardent sighed again, and Miro turned to straddle her legs and hug her. “I am open to alternatives, if you’ve come up with any. But in their absence…”

“We should get back. I know, honey.” Ardent kissed him, gently at first, and then passionately. “I suppose I can’t distract you again.”

Miro smiled, and nuzzled her neck, then breathed into one of her long, elegant ears. “Oh, you could, at least once more.” He chuckled. “Probably several times. I’d hoped to be a trifle more focused on our central problem – locating the phoenix rose. But apparently the emphasis there is on ‘a trifle’.” Moments from the investigation of the previous days flashed through his mind: talking to the farmers; tracing Ocean Discourse; dancing with his father. He straightened in Ardent’s lap. “Is my father’s journal with you, or is it at the apartment?”

Ardent gestured to the pile of things on one of the chairs. “It’s in there.”

Miro gave her a quick kiss, then scrambled out of bed to find it. “My father was able to give me some clues while we were dancing last night, which promptly dropped from my worthless mind until just now. I need to look them up before I forget again.” He pulled the notebook from the heap, and sat in the opposite chair to flip through it.

Ardent walked over to him, still nude, and folded her arms on the back of his chair as she leaned down to look over his shoulder with him. “What did he tell you?”

“One uses a phoenix rose via extractors. It’s kind of a way of filtering the creature’s power so that it can be used by a fey. The little cage we saw in the immersion last night was one such extractor. They require specialized components, varying based on what one can do with them. I know which ones Fallen is and isn’t gathering, but I can’t remember exactly which ones are for what. Here.” He stopped on the section about extractors, and scanned down. He conjured a pen to his hand to put an X beside all the extractors that required one of the items Jino had said Fallen wasn’t gathering. Then he went back through and put a tick mark beside any that used ivory or alabaster.    

Only one extractor needed both. “What does that one do?” Ardent asked.

Miro recognized the name his father had given the device: The Harbinger. It also required some of the things his father had specified Fallen wasn’t gathering, but that meant nothing. She might not have been gathering those because she already had them in sufficient quantities. He turned the page to look at the description again anyway. “It’s…transformative force. You use it to take an existing kind of power and change it into a smaller amount of a different kind of power. At the weak level, you could siphon the aether out of an enchantment, or a ward, or a golem, and turn it into something else. Since it’s acting directly upon aether, aether is not an effective defense against it. A good ward or a powerful enchantment would take longer to destroy, but it wouldn’t be proof against it.”

“So…what would the something-else that it gets turned into be?”    

“A new form of aether. It might have the properties of Sun aether in the Moon Etherium, or it might just be less of a different sort of aether. Dad wasn’t sure on that part of the theory.” Miro stared down at the notebook.

“If he’s never been able to do any of these things, how does he have such precise theories about them?”

“They’re mathematical permutations. It all follows logically from the things that can be done with firebuds, albeit on a scale so small that it’s only perceptible via aether.” He closed the notebook and stood.    

Ardent braced her hands on the chair back to prop her torso just high enough to put her head level with his. “And at the strong level?”

“Mm?” Miro met her eyes, wishing he’d taken her up on her half-joking suggestion of distracting him. That it wasn’t too late. Once was not nearly enough.

“Of that extractor. You said the weak level could do what we saw your attackers do, to my wards and to Sessile. What could it do at a powerful level?”    

“Ah. Right. It could destroy an Etherium, and create a new, weaker one.”

Ardent straightened so fast she cracked her head against the ceiling. She blinked at him. “Oh. Well. That’s not ominous at all.”

---

Don’t want to wait until the next post to read more? Buy The Moon Etherium now! Or check out the author’s other books: A Rational Arrangement and Further Arrangements.

Ardent woke to find herself curled around Miro: one arm and one leg over his blanketed body, his head tucked under her chin. Her back was cold, because at some point she’d kicked off the blanket, and her chiton had ridden up around her waist. Not that modesty had any bearing here since she’d paraded about naked in front of him for fifteen minutes last night anyway. She cringed inwardly and shifted her head back, using aether to reposition her chiton.

Miro turned his face up to hers as she withdrew. “Good morning,” he said, softly.

Embarrassed, she moved her arm and leg off of him. “Morning. Sorry about…all that.”

His golden-tan features looked perplexed. “What are you apologizing for?”

“Forcing myself on you – I should’ve let you make another bed, I mean – I just…” She trailed off, not wanting to make excuses for herself.

He lifted indigo eyebrows, incredulous. “Forcing yourself on…you realize we’re in the Broken Lands, right? I can evade if I do not wish to be touched.”

She scrunched her nose at him. “Yeah, all right, maybe not literally forcing. But you still want my help to save your father. You’re not really in a position to do anything that might offend me. Like rejecting my drunken advances.” She rolled onto her back and put her hands over her eyes. “Thank you for rejecting my drunken advances, by the by.”    

“You’re welcome,” Miro said, with a strange timber to his voice. After a moment, he added, “It did take considerable effort on my part—”

Ardent cringed deeper into the mattress. “I really am sorry.”

“—because I desperately want to make love with you, and having you pliant and willing and eager next to me made it extremely difficult to keep in mind the ‘drunken’ part. Ardent, I was not making an excuse when I said I didn’t want to take advantage of you.”

Ardent parted the fingers covering one eye to peer between them at him, half-hoping, half-afraid. “Miro, I…I don’t want you to think you need to…make me feel better…”

He reached out to take her hand from her face, curled her fingers over his and pressed her knuckles to his lips. “Do you know, I have been terrified from the moment that I met you that I would discomfort you with my unwanted interest? You are right; I have been afraid I would offend you. I am still afraid I will offend you.” Miro’s hand trembled under hers. “But not by rejecting your advances. By making my own. I am not saying this to make you feel better, except insofar as I cannot bear to have you under the misapprehension that I am repulsed by you. You are the most compelling, attractive person I have ever met. If you prefer that I not act on this attraction, for whatever reason, of course I will not do so again. But that will not change that I feel it.” He swallowed, his almond eyes intent and terrifyingly earnest as he met her gaze, his breathing shallow.

She rolled onto her side again to face him, moved her free hand to caress his cheek. It seemed so improbable, that her position of power over him could be what had stopped him from voicing his own desire, rather than what stopped him from expressing a lack thereof. He’s still afraid. Even now, he might be saying what he thinks he must to keep my goodwill. The thought seemed unkind, to accuse him of being so manipulative. Ardent whispered, “I won’t…Miro, I am helping you because it’s the right thing to do. Whether we make love or not, that won’t change. I don’t want you to fear that I’ll abandon you or leave you stranded because you said the wrong thing. Or because you were a little too forward, or not forward enough, or…whatever. I’m not gonna desert you, or turn my back on your dad while he’s enslaved. You understand that, don’t you?”

Miro closed his eyes and turned his head enough to kiss her palm. “I do. Thank you.”

This might be a mistake. Ardent couldn’t convince herself that it was; he was too close, too inviting to resist. She threaded her fingers through his silky indigo hair and cupped the back of his head. He was breathless, his lean body arched into her touch. She shifted forward the remaining inches between them, and brought her lips to his.

That first contact was tentative. Miro kissed her gently, lips only brushing hers, as if he feared she would tell him to stop, or could not believe he’d been permitted to start. He freed one arm from the blanket to stroke hers, then used aether to remove the blanket entirely. He slid into her embrace, flattening curly hair under his palm as he cupped her head and kissed her deeply, with a desperate hunger. Ardent felt light-headed in the face of his passion, drunk again on shared desire. She caressed his bare shoulder, then slid her hand under the toga to stroke his back: the skin velvet-smooth and fresh from his latest transformation the night before. He was an Etherium native, with no need for roughened skin or callouses. Even she had softened her skin at Katsura’s insistence for the High Court, and then left it soft. For this, if she was to be honest. For him. She’d wanted to be touchable, for Miro to touch her.

And now he was.

And Love, it was glorious.

Miro pushed her onto her back against the bed and knelt over her, knees to either side of her waist, hands on her shoulders, thumbs sliding under the fabric of her sleep-rumpled chiton. He moved from her lips to kiss her cheek and jaw, then licked and nibbled at her throat. When she whimpered with pleasure at the graze of his teeth against the sensitive skin beside the jugular, Miro’s hands clenched against her. He lifted himself and her from the bed on a cushion of aether, so that his arms could curl unimpeded around her while his mouth lingered on her throat. She held his head in place with one large hand as she played with loose strands of straight hair and breathed in ragged gasps, half-lost between pleasure and need. When he paused for breath and sat up just enough to see her face, Ardent traced her thumb over his soft, sensuous lips. “Love,” she whispered, trying to catch her breath. “Are all Sun lords this sexy or is it just you?”

He chuckled, nipped at the ball of her thumb, suckled it while she arched into him. “All I know is that there is no other fey anywhere as enrapturing as you. Ardent. Divine, Ardent. You are amazing.” He brought one hand around to smooth her chiton over her collarbone, inched lower, paused. “May I…?”

Ardent giggled and arched her back to press the upper curve of her breast against his palm. “You know I could evade if I didn’t want to be touched, right?” she teased.

Miro half-laughed, breathless, and caressed the soft flesh through the cloth, cupping his fingers around a breast larger than his hand. Ardent used aether to cut a slit down the front of her chiton, and pulled the top section apart to bare a few inches of warm brown skin in silent invitation. Miro caught his breath, swallowed, and slid his fingertips under the fabric to explore silken skin, to brush over the stiffened nub of a nipple. “Ardent.”

She arched into his fingers, electrified as he took the nipple between finger and thumb, stroked the thumb up and down over sensitive flesh. “Oh Love. Love, please,” she whimpered, not even sure what she was begging for. “Please.”

Miro pushed the upper half of the chiton to one side to bare her chest and gazed down at her for a moment, his expression one of wonder and awe. Then he bent to flick his tongue over the hard peak, and she writhed in the grip of longing. He fastened his mouth over her and sucked, licking, nipping, while she whimpered and squirmed and begged incoherently for more. His hand slid down her ribcage, over her stomach, along her hip. His body shifted on aether from on top of her to pressed against her side, exposing her other breast to his attentions. His tongue lapped in broad strokes and then flicked in little motions over the taut nipple. His hand pet the curve of her thigh underneath the chiton, exploring soft fur, and then moved between her legs. She spread her thighs and tilted her hips into his hand, eager for his touch. Miro groaned around her breast as he parted her labia and slid one finger over the slick, sensitive skin between. He drew slow, sensual circles over her clitoris, then slid one finger into her and rubbed his thumb over her clit instead. Miro used aether to make subtle adjustments to his hand to fit her better, to reach deeper inside her, to make his thumb vibrate against her nub. She writhed wildly, thrusting into his hand. He raised his head to watch her face. “Tell me what you like,” he said, his voice a hoarse, urgent whisper, demanding. “I need to know what you want.”

“You,” she gasped, hardly able to articulate anything more. “That. Oh, Miro, that – please—” her hips pulsed as if under his control, not hers. “—please – I need – if you don’t stop, I’ll—” Instead of stopping, he slid another finger inside her, thrusting deeper, pressing hard until her body buckled in climax. She clamped her thighs together around his hand, gasping at the intensity of release, the rippling aftershocks of ecstasy.

Ardent opened her eyes to see him watching her, smiling, looking as happy as she felt. “Miro,” she said, and kissed him, because it was enough and yet not nearly sufficient. She rolled him over on the aether and stripped him, while he let her, while he finished undressing her. She’d known what his nude body would look like; she had restored him to it often enough. But it was different to see it with her eyes, all warm beige skin over firm, flexible muscles, the body of a well-trained acrobat at an impossible peak of physical condition. Ardent knelt against his thighs to caress his chest and abdomen, watching his face as Miro closed his eyes to arch into her touch. How weird must I seem to a Sun lord, with my bent furry legs and extra height? But there was no mistaking his arousal, as her hand moved down from his stomach to his groin. The hard length of his penis twitched in anticipation of her touch. He tilted his hips towards her fingers, and she caved to temptation and took him in her hand. She ran her fingers up and down his erection, wondering if his was actually smaller than those of males from the Moon Etherium or if her memories from more than a decade ago were inaccurate. Ardent couldn’t bring herself to actually care. She curled her body to take him in her mouth, her senses so attuned to him she could feel his pleasure as her own. He curled his fingers through her hair, thrusting against her mouth. After a few moments, Miro slid his hands to her shoulders and tugged her higher. “Ardent – please – I want to be inside you – may I…?”

In answer, she shifted to straddle him, and gasped as he slid into her, his whole body arching into the union. After a few thrusts, Miro pulled her down to kiss, then spoke in breathless gasps. “I don’t know how it is…in Moon. But in Sun, ahh, the recipient adjusts the giver’s body to their satisfaction. If you like…?”

“Ohhhh. That’s practical.” Ardent used aether to enlarge him inside of her, a slow shift as she pulsed her hips against his. She shivered at the renewed intensity of it, at the building pleasure.

Miro made an alteration of his own; Ardent couldn’t tell exactly what, except that it felt even better to slide against him, his groin pressing exactly right against her clitoris when they thrust together. She cried out in delight, and he asked, “Is that good?”

“Love, Miro, it’s incredible,” she said, or tried to say. It might have come out as just, “Miro, oh, Miro…!”

They fed on each other’s pleasure, aether-enhanced senses attuning them so well that they climaxed together, in a fog of bliss. Ardent rolled over in the air and cuddled Miro to her chest as they drifted back down to lie against the bed.

---

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Ardent gave a breathy little laugh and shaped a glamour to light the interior. She smiled down at him, still holding his hand. “Just gonna get you a little farther out, then I can patch you up.”

“It looks much worse than it is,” Miro assured her.

“That’s great, because you look like a mortal who lost a fight with a thresher.”

“Are threshers very dangerous?”

Ardent laughed. “Don’t get into any fights with them. Especially if you’re mortal. Or as vulnerable as one.” She swallowed, her smile strained by worry.

Sessile’s motion ceased. “We’re here. Should I surface?”

“Yes, thanks, Sessile. Shift to the mortal world only.” They ascended into a dark wood, the shape of the leaf canopy above barely visible. Ardent curled her caprine legs onto the bed beside Miro, and leaned over him. “I haven’t healed anyone but mortals and animals in the last couple of centuries, so…here’s hoping I remember how.” She dismissed the bandages over his face, and wrote in aether over his skin. Miro sighed and closed his eyes again as the pain faded. Ardent worked her way down his front, then had him roll over and did his back. She made a few extra passes around his head, biting her tongue in concentration. “There…how’s that?”

“Much better, my lady. Thank you.” Miro shifted to sit upright, and covered her hand with his. “We can go back now, if you please.”

“You’re still shivering.” Ardent steadied him with a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s nothing. Just nerves.”

Ardent shifted a little closer and kissed his forehead. “You can stop being insanely brave now,” she whispered.

Miro shook his head. “Not yet,” he answered, just as softly. “When my father’s safe. Then I can stop.”

Another breathless laugh. “Look, we both need sleep. We can do that just as well in the Broken Lands, where you’re as invulnerable as any other fey. So let’s stay out here for tonight, and in the morning we can talk about what’s next. All right? The thrice-blighted Moon Etherium will still be there tomorrow. More’s the pity.”

Miro bowed his head in acquiescence. “As you wish.”

Ardent let out a breath. She moved his hand to rest on her wrist. “Here. Channel from me.”

He blinked at her. “What? Why would I—”

“I brought my boots, I’ll walk back to the Etherium and fill up again after you channel from me. There’s no reason for you to be helpless out here.”

I’m not helpless. I have you. Her pulse under his fingers was strong and steady, her skin warm, the aether palpable and inviting as an oasis to his no-longer-dulled senses. Miro swallowed. “As you wish.” He scooted back to make more room for her in the bed.

She hesitated. “We don’t really need…I mean, we’re not in an Etherium, and I’m not even High Court, so…” He raised his eyebrows at her, and the satyress gave another nervous laugh. “Never mind.” She lay down next to him.

Miro pressed against her side. He curled one leg over her thigh and rested his hand against her throat, feeling her pulse. “Tell me if it’s uncomfortable.”

“Mm hmm.” Her breathing was not quite steady, her pulse quickening. Miro relaxed, opening himself to her aether. It flowed in, and he gasped at the pleasure of it, the relief of being quenched after days of acute thirst. His awareness of Ardent beside him only increased as aether enhanced his senses. Her back arched to press her throat into his fingers, as if eager to pour herself into his body. Her lips parted, breathing in quick gasps, body writhing against his in a way that was deeply sensual, unimaginably alluring. His own pulse pounded with growing lust, his erection throbbing against her hip. Ardent made a tiny whimpering sound, her arm clutching at his side. Miro tore himself away, panting, afraid he would lose control entirely if he remained. She whimpered again at his withdrawal, her back arched as if to lure him back. He moved further away, putting a foot of empty bed between them, and fought to control his breathing.

Ardent slumped back against the bedding. Dark eyes fluttered open, and she turned to him with a slow, half-lidded smile. “Mmm. Love, but you’re so good at this. If it feels even half this delicious for you, then I finally understand why you’re so willing to channel for me.” She stretched her arms lazily over her head, the generous curves of her breasts shifting under her chiton. His fingers itched to caress them, to explore their inviting softness. He fisted his hand around the blanket instead. “I’ve still got more, if you want. It won’t hurt me.” Her husky contralto beckoned with the promise of a warm reception. She reached out to caress his cheek, but at his stiffness, her face fell. Ardent withdrew. “Sorry, I shouldn’t—”

Miro caught her hand, unable to bear the rejected look in her eyes. “I would love to,” he said, hoarsely, kissing her fingers. “I just – if it’s half so intoxicating for you – I can’t take advantage of that.”

She raised her eyes to his, then lowered brown lids, a smile flickering and fading on full lips. “Fair ’nuf. I should run back to the Etherium an’…” The satyress swung her legs off of the bed and almost fell out of it. Miro scrambled to grab her shoulder and steady her. “Whoa.”

“It can wait.” Miro tugged gently, and she half-toppled back to lay her head in his lap, lower legs still off the bed.

“Dizzy,” she said. “’s a nice dizzy, though.” She reached up to pat his cheek, and he turned his face to kiss her palm. Ardent smiled, then curled onto her side and nuzzled his stomach. “I forgot to make a bed for me.”

“I’ll make one.” Miro started to gesture.

She put her hand over his arm and he paused. “Do you have to?”    

Miro swallowed, trying to will his renewed erection away. “…no. If you’re sure you don’t mind.”

Ardent gave him a lazy, dreamy smile that did nothing for his ragged self-control. “I’m sure I don’t mind, sugar.”

He did use aether to float her into a more comfortable position in the bed, straightened out lengthwise. He made a new blanket to put over her, and slid under the first set himself, figuring an extra layer of cloth between them was advisable. Miro decided the toga she’d put him in already was comfortable enough to sleep in.

“Mmm.” Ardent watched him with sleepy black eyes. “Lights out.” Her light-glamour vanished, leaving them in darkness. “Oh, Sessily, you sleep too, little girl. Gotta conserve aether out here.”

“Uh-huh, m’lady.” Sessile went still, and her walls turned opaque, making the darkness absolute.

The mattress shifted as Ardent moved closer to him, until she could wrap an arm over his side and snuggle into him. “G’night, Miro.”    

“Sleep well, Ardent,” he murmured. Given all his conflicted feelings and the rush of adrenaline from his escape, Miro did not expect to sleep soon. But the warmth of Ardent’s soul, and her body pressed close despite the blankets between them, comforted him. The unwanted arousal faded as she slept, and soon he was asleep as well.

---

Don’t want to wait until the next post to read more? Buy The Moon Etherium now! Or check out the author’s other books: A Rational Arrangement and Further Arrangements.

Miro appeared in Ardent’s darkened living room, next to the spiral staircase. He dashed up them two at a time. “Ardent! Ardent!” Below, he thought he heard a crashing noise by one of the walls. He reached the top of the spiral into a moonlit bedroom and ran, half-stumbling, towards the giant bed. “Ardent! Summon Sessile, she’s under attack!”    

Ardent twisted about, sitting upright in the bed. “Justice! Miro, what happened?”

Miro stumbled to a halt at the edge of the round bed, suddenly seeing what was in front of him. Ardent was naked, and not alone: Whispers Rain was sitting up beside her. She was wearing a tunic and tights now, but Miro had the impression she’d been naked a moment ago. No time to process this. “Summon Sessile,” he repeated, “she’s—”    

Sessile was in the room, curling up around the bed. Bull was crawling into her through a gap forced open between two of her segments. “What in the name of Justice are you doing with my golem?!” Ardent roared.

Bull wisely teleported away.

Ardent vaulted across the bed at Miro. He twisted to see what was behind him, and narrowly dodged as Cat tried to grab him. Ardent curled Miro to her chest with one arm instead. Her eyes flashed with stored power as she lashed out with her other fist. Cat attempted to evade.

And failed.

The blow sent him reeling, arms flailing as he struck the floor. Rain screamed. Ardent leaped from the bed, Miro still held tight in one arm, and planted a hoof on the panther-man’s chest. “Who are you, and what are you doing in my home messing with my people?”

The panther snarled and teleported away. Ardent stomped her foot to the floor with a growl, then glanced down at Miro. “Miro, sugar, what happened? How badly hurt are you?”

“I’m fine,” Miro lied. “We need to go after them before the teleport-trail fades.”

“Honey, you’re wounded, I can’t—”

“Loyalty,” Rain whispered, crawling to the edge of the bed. “They hurt you.”

Miro glanced at her, at the hideous rope of obligation on her soul. It is not chance she is here, or chance that my assailants were sure Ardent would not receive messages. And if I accuse her, Ardent will not believe me.

Ardent hovered a hand over his cut and bruised face, not touching him. At some point she’d remembered she was naked and made a chiton for herself. “I can’t heal you in the Etherium – Justice abandon it all—” she looked over her shoulder to the place where Cat had disappeared.

Rain followed her look. “Go after him. I’ll take care of Mirohirokon.”

No! Miro clutched at Ardent’s chiton. “Don’t leave me here. You’ll need more power to catch him,” he said. She hesitated, torn. “Please, Ardent. Please.”

A new bubble formed in the air before the bed, and all three of them looked to it in surprise. Play Until Collapsing Dreams stepped out of it. “Ardent, you’ve had a breach, and they left a major vulnerability in your wards, and your pet—” the cat-eared fey started to say, then took in the scene. “—oh, I guess you know.”

Ardent smiled grimly, and shifted her grip on Miro to cradle him in both arms. “Yeah. I know. Can you identify the intruders and tell me who they are?”

“Uh.” Play rubbed the back of her neck, fluffing her short dark hair. Her eyes went to Miro, took in the blood-smeared slashes on his face, the shredded, blood-stained clothing. “Yes. Yes, I can do that. Give me a minute.”

“Take all the minutes you need.” Ardent walked over to Sessile’s injured side and used aether to mend the rent. “How’re you doing, baby?”

Sessile sighed and wiggled her tail tip. “Better. My wards still hurt, though.”

“I’ll see what I can do. Play, give me everything you can on those Idealless rot-ridden beasts. You need anything from me? Permissions on the home. I’ll set those now.” She shifted to support Miro on a cushion of aether against her chest, and made a series of runes in the air.

“Yes, that. That should be good. Where are you going?”

“I’m gonna get Miro out of this Justice-deprived blighthole of a city.” She gave Whispers Rain a regretful look. “Sorry, sweetheart, but—”

Rain shook her head, waving off the apology. “No, no. You do what you have to do. We can catch up later.” She offered a hesitant smile, eyes worried.

Miro tried to disengage from the satyress’s hold. “Ardent, no, I can’t leave—”

“Honey, you can argue with me when you’re not bleeding. We’ll know who they are and have evidence against them soon, I can catch them later, I am fixing you now.” She cupped the back of his head in one hand to look in his eyes. “All right?”

He wanted to argue with her, feeling a terrible urgency for reasons he couldn’t articulate, the sense that they needed to do something now. But Ardent was right. Those inept minions would not have been entrusted with the location of the phoenix rose. He and Ardent would be in a better position once they had whatever information Play could obtain. Miro sank down, wincing, and closed his eyes. “All right. But I am coming back.”

“We can talk about that when you’re not bleeding, too. Sessile, open up, please.” Ardent ducked as she carried Miro into the earthserpent’s body. She waved a hand over the empty cargo area, conjuring a bed that spanned the width of the serpent’s body, and lay Miro down in it.

“I truly am not dying,” he told her.

“That’s great news, hon. Stay put for me anyway.” She sat on the edge of the bed and laced her fingers through his. A conjured toga replaced his shredded robe, and summoned bandages covered the rent flesh. Ardent closed her eyes and extended her arm to touch Sessile’s side, tracing patterns over the transparent wall. “Is that better, Sessile?”

“Mostly, I think. It still feels a little weird.”

“If you’ll be all right for tonight, we’ll take you to Contemplation After the Storm tomorrow and he can straighten you out.”

“Sure, I’m fine. Where are we going?”

“Just a min.” Ardent pulled her bag out of her locket, then dumped the contents of the bag on a chair. The space-expanding enchantments on both items would fail quickly in the aether-starved Broken Lands. She summoned a few other things, including her walking boots and a crystal ball. She found her destination in the scrying device, and floated it out of the golem’s mouth to socket into her nose. “There. Port as far as you can, then earthswim to it.”

“On our way!” The view outside flickered to starlit darkness on the ridgeline at the edge of the Etherium. That darkness became absoute as Sessile plunged into the slope. A flutter of aether from the golem held Miro and Ardent in place against the change in orientation.

Miro drew in a deep breath in the still darkness. The absence of Moon aether all round him was a weight removed. The Broken Lands were parched, but at least they didn’t press upon him with an insistent demand he couldn’t meet. “I’m sorry I got you hurt, Sessile,” he told her, quietly.

“Oh, no, don’t be! You needed help!” Sessile said. “I’d much rather I got a little dinged up then you got killed! Or kidnapped or worse! That’d be terrible. And Ardent would be sad too.”

Miro’s lips twitched. “And we can’t go making Ardent sad.”

“Nuh-uh!”

---

Don’t want to wait until the next post to read more? Buy The Moon Etherium now! Or check out the author’s other books: A Rational Arrangement and Further Arrangements.

Miro woke to darkness and a sense of wrongness. He pushed off the bedclothes and sat at the edge of the bed, trying to figure out what had woken him, trying to decide if it was nothing and he should go back to sleep. Perhaps it’s the wrongness of being sense-blind that woke me, he thought, dryly. He rose and drew on a dressing gown anyway, and had started for the stairwell to the living room when he saw a fey stranger with an ugly soul coming down it. Miro ducked back into his room and conjured a messenger to send to Ardent: “Intruder in the apartment. Please come.”

Instead of winking out to deliver the message, the will-o-wisp reported, “Ardent is not accepting messages at this time.”

Miro cursed inwardly, and instructed the wisp to relay as soon as it could: “Intruder on the bottom level, perhaps several. Includes a fey we saw at the party talking to Fallen: flying merman with black and white scales. Please come.” It had been too dark to make out the fey’s shape on the stairs, but soulsight needed no light. Miro reviewed his other options quickly: I can teleport, but only to where I already am. I can message my father, who can’t message me back. I could send a message to Play Until Collapsing Dreams, or Contemplation After the Storm, and hope that doesn’t make matters worse. I can hide.

He ducked into the wardrobe and closed its door, sinking down to its floor. He heard the door to the room open, and voices talking. “He was staying in this room, don’t see him now. Check the bathing chamber?”

“Didn’t we just go through the bathing chamber?”

“I assume there’s a private one.”

A third voice said, “Search the bedroom, too.”

Miro sent a message to Play Until Collapsing Dreams. “Intruders in Ardent’s apartment. At least three. Ardent blocking messages. Please help if you can.” The wisp winked out as someone yanked open the armoire door.

The strange fey had a monstrous shape, even by the standards of the Moon Etherium: a kind of giant wolf with tentacles rayed out from their back, and a scorpion’s tail. They grinned at him. “Found him!” they yelled.

Miro considered yelling for help, but even if Ardent’s room wasn’t soundproofed – and why wouldn’t it be soundproofed? – the intruders were unconcerned about being overheard and could have rendered the area soundproof themselves. Instead, he rose and stepped from the armoire with all the Sun Etherium dignity he could muster. “Good evening, gentlefolk. May I inquire as to the reason for this visit?”

The other two intruders entered the guest room behind the wolf. One, who’d been the merman with the ugly soul at the party, was in the shape of a six-armed humanoid panther, head crested by horns. In his upper right hand, he held a short rod with purple-striped white petals bound to the top. The third fey had a minotaur’s form. All three had corrupted souls and thick obligations, though the mer-turned-panther was the worst of the lot. The panther-man parted his jaws in a fanged-tooth grin at Miro. “Heh. You may not. Bull, is he watched?”    

Miro didn’t recognize any of the three forms, but he knew the panther’s soul, and the minotaur’s looked vaguely familiar. They cared enough about being caught to use disguised forms. That’s something. “The hour is quite late, and you are intruding upon my space. Kindly depart,” Miro said, more to establish a tone of civility than out of any hope of compliance. The wolf lolled their tongue, amused.

The minotaur ignored him to fiddle with a crystal ball, tracing runes over it and twisting it.

The six-armed panther tapped one foot impatiently. “Well?”

“Give me a few minutes.” Bull tapped the crystal’s surface. “It’s designed to check for the wielder, not a random other fey. And it’s slow anyway.”

As the other fey were looking at Bull, Miro dove between the minotaur and the panther towards the open door behind them. The humanoid cat roared and made a grab for him with his left set of arms. He wasn’t accustomed to the extra limbs: the lower two were clumsy and the upper one didn’t have the reach as Miro somersaulted across the floor. He came to his feet by the door and ran for the stairs.

Aether swirled into a wall of rock before him. Miro pulled up short as his hands hit it. “Really, Sun boy?” The panther stepped through the bedroom door. He gestured, putting a stone wall on the corridor behind him, and another to cover the door opposite his bedroom. “How far do you think you can get without aether?”

I can still straddle to the mortal world and walk through this wall, Miro thought, but they can straddle too, and they’ll have aether-speed on me. And that trick will only work once. What is my strategy, here?    

The panther stalked towards him. When the other two fey joined them in the corridor, the feline put a wall over the door to the bedroom, too.

A will-o-wisp messenger formed by Miro’s head. Right. I’m stalling for time and hoping someone rescues me. He reached for the message. It was from Play Until Collapsing Dreams: “Can’t port in without permission. Trying to bypass Ardent’s block. Hang on.”

“What’s that?” The panther grabbed for the message, but the will-o-wisp dissolved into mist at his touch. He snarled at Miro. “Who’s talking to you, Sun boy?” He’d taken a large form, almost a foot taller than Miro, and glowered down at him.

Miro kept his back straight. I will not cower. “My lady Ardent Sojourner. She checks in on me periodically.”

“Hah. She’s got better things to do right now than talk to you. And how would you answer?”

The wolf-beast conjured a messenger. “She’s still blocking, Cat.”    

Cat narrowed his eyes at Miro, and tried to grab him. Miro didn’t have fey evasion, but the Moon Host fey was clumsy enough in his unaccustomed form that Miro was able to dodge the first hand. Miro feinted a counterstrike, which Cat evaded automatically, and dodged to the left. A brief scramble ensued. It ended when the panther slammed cage walls into place on either side of Miro, then seized him by the throat from the front. “Don’t lie to me, light-brat.”

Miro clawed at the panther’s fingers ineffectually. The panther-man took his wrists in his extra hands and dragged them down with aether-fueled strength. The panther raised him from the floor and slammed him back against the stone wall, grinning ferally. Miro fought for breath, spots swimming in his vision after the impact.

“Don’t break him, Cat. We need him alive,” the lupine said. “How’s that check coming, Bull?”

The minotaur approached Miro, circled the crystal over his face, then drew back. “Sorry, gonna be another minute.”

“Take your time,” Cat growled. “I always wanted a fey toy to play with, anyway.” He loosened his grip on Miro’s throat slightly. “Who sent you a message? What did they say?”

Miro gasped. “That you’re a clumsy buffoon and Fallen should find a better class of minion.”

The panther-man bared fangs as long as fingers. “Wrong answer, cat toy.” He unsheathed the claws of one free hand and ran them lovingly down the side of Miro’s face, drawing blood. “But you get it, don’t you? I can see it in your eyes. Fear. You can act arrogant, but you know how helpless you are.” He closed, pressing the length of his body against Miro’s. “Can’t evade. Can’t escape.”

“Wait, how’d he know Fallen sent us?” the wolf asked.

Any time you would like to bypass that block would be lovely, Play. Miro closed his eyes. “Well, I know now. And you can’t do anything, little kitty. I’m no good to your mistress dead.”

“He’s not being watched by anyone,” Bull reported. “Still waiting on the tracking.”

“That’s all right, cat toy. It’s more fun playing with your prey while they’re still alive and squirming,” the panther growled. He licked a broad, abrasive tongue over the cuts on Miro’s face, then shredded Miro’s robe and night shirt dramatically under two sets of claws, lacerating the skin underneath

“Uh, Cat, what are you…” The wolf edged nearer.

“Just having some fun. Haven’t you ever wanted to fuck a scared fey?” Cat flipped Miro around, evading without effort Miro’s vain attempt to kick him. Cat slammed Miro’s face against the wall, and shredded the back of his clothing, leaving shallow furrows in the skin. Miro gritted his teeth under the urge to scream.

“No. That’s disgusting, Hunt – Cat. Stop that.” The wolf drew closer and slid their tentacles between Miro’s body and the panther-man.    

Miro wished he could think of something else brave to say, wished he weren’t grateful for the intervention, wished he wasn’t just as sick and scared as Cat had taunted him with being. He could have made my clothing disappear but it was more fun to tear them. Just playing, with a sapient possession – Miro opened his eyes as he suddenly realized who else he could contact. If I can get out.

“He’s not being tracked, either. Can we just go now?” Bull asked.    

Time to use that one chance. Miro shifted to the mortal world. He fell through the wall, Cat’s hands, the tentacles—

—the floor.

He heard the fey shout and grab for him, but fey who never left their Etherium had no reason to shift to the mortal world, and were not quick to think of the possibility. By the time they realized what had happened, he was below the floor and conjuring a farspeaker. “Sessile, port to me NOW!”

Before he’d finished the message, Miro struck a ward – the fey below Ardent had made their wards impenetrable in both worlds. He scrambled and slid to the edge of the ward. As he dropped into empty space, Fallen’s second-rate minions shifted to the mortal plane and flew after him.

The air beside Miro shimmered, and then Sessile uncurled out of nothingness. She blinked. “Help!” Miro shouted at her, in freefall. She snaked after him. The lupine ported to him, and Miro twisted away from his tentacles as Sessile caught up to them and chomped her mouth neatly over Miro. “Port, top of the Etherium,” he told her. “Keep falling.” Still floating in freefall inside of her, Miro grabbed for one of the ridges of her interior segments, and pulled himself to one of the chairs. He tried to seat himself as best he could, wincing at the touch of the backrest against his lacerated back. Through Sessile’s glamour-window-walls, he could see them plummet past the towers and skybridges of the Moon Etherium. “Pull out of the fall now, please, gently. As if you’re hauling a fragile cargo you didn’t want to break with a too-sudden stop.”

“Um. I can’t actually fly,” Sessile said, sheepishly.

“…right. Can you port to the ground and earthswim to slow the fall?”

“Sure, I can do that.”

“Please do so.” The scene outside shifted from the glamour-lit cityscape to the road before the palace. They plunged through it and into complete darkness. Miro lurched forward in the chair as Sessile began to decelerate. “Is your interior warded?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Might be safer underground anyway. Although that justice-lost cat has an airswimming form and is probably familiar enough with earthswimming to do so casually. “Please let me know if anyone makes contact with you or tries to enter, all right?”

“Sure! So…why are they trying to kill you, m’lord?”

“I think they mean to capture me so Fallen can have another channel. Can you teleport into Ardent’s bedroom?” Miro did not have much hope that Sessile would have better luck than Play, but they should at least try.

A moment’s pause, then: “No, she’s not responding to the request.”

“Are you able to port about at random?” Miro asked.

“I’m not so good with random. Can you give me a place?”

“The Promenade?”

Sessile grunted. “There’s someone on me.” The scene outside changed from darkness to the Promenade. The arched crystal bridge with its shop-portals was a brightly lit jewel against the night. The golem juddered as she hit the street, almost knocking Miro loose from his chair. She hadn’t quite finished decelerating from their earlier freefall. He twisted to look around them, and saw Cat clinging to Sessile’s tail.

“Blight take him. Can you shake him off?”

“Probably not.” She thrashed her tail, but he didn’t jar loose. “He’s…ow…he’s hurting me.” She sounded suddenly small and scared. Bull ported in near Cat and clung to a couple of the long spines adorning Sessile’s back. Cat was doing something with his rod against Sessile’s side. Miro saw an actual hole, not just glamour-transparency, start to peel open on her flank where he was prodding.

“Make a fuss. Yell for help. I’ll try to draw them off you, Sessile.” Miro jumped out of his chair and yelled at the gap with a bravado he did not feel, “You want me, O Pitiful Inept Hunter? Come get me.”

Then he snapped his fingers on both hands, and disappeared.

---

Don’t want to wait until the next post to read more? Buy The Moon Etherium now! Or check out the author’s other books: A Rational Arrangement and Further Arrangements.

Ardent watched Miro descend the stairs with a mixture of longing, regret, and relief. As pleasant as cuddling with him was, it stirred too many feelings she really, really should not act upon. She didn’t need to channel from him right now and had no excuse to want to, and the close contact had been an unwanted reminder of how easy it would be to just take. Whatever she wanted from him. Everything she wanted from him.

He is absurdly brave, to be here, helpless and vulnerable, among people who are encouraged to hate everything he represents. She tried to imagine walking into Sun Etherium under such circumstances, to be a channel for a stranger and with absolutely no defenses of her own. Yeah, no wonder I’m attracted to him. I always have liked the brave, noble types. Not to mention sweet and vulnerable. But while ‘hello, you’re helpless and completely in my power, wanna fuck?’ may not quite top the list of Terrible Things to Do to a Person, it’s definitely way up there.

All right, there are a lot of worse things I could do, starting with “everything Fallen is doing to poor Jinokimijin”. Notwithstanding that: still awful, still not going to do it.

Ardent squirmed on the couch, still fantasizing about Miro despite her resolve. She could go downstairs now, tell him she wanted to channel some power so she could make an amulet to protect him against mind-clouding glamours, like the immersion. He wouldn’t object to that. He’d encourage her; he always did. She wouldn’t take much; enough to relax him, intoxicate him. And afterwards, Miro would kiss her again, but this time when he apologized, she’d silence his protests with a kiss of her own. It wouldn’t be as if she were forcing him; he’d enjoy it too…

All right, Ardent, that’s enough of that. You’re two hundred and thirty-five years too old to be indulging in this kind of nonsense. Go to bed. Your own bed.

Too lazy to walk upstairs, Ardent teleported to her bed. Like her living room, the bedroom was round, with a glamour to make the ceiling look like a dome of glass. It showed the starry night sky above the Moon Etherium, streaked by clouds, crescent moon waxing on the horizon. Her bed was an enormous round thing that filled a third of the room, piled with silvery blue silk pillows and velvet blankets. The colors reminded her of Whispers Rain as she burrowed into the disorderly heap. Sure. Great. Let’s think about my former wife instead. At least I don’t have to worry about taking advantage of my power over her.

Love, but it’d been good to see her again, after all these years. I wish we’d had time to talk. I wonder if she still performs? She was aether dancing, but that’s not the same. I should’ve asked her to dance. Not that I could’ve and still kept an eye on Miro. I wish I could talk to her now. I wish I could fall asleep.

A twitch of aether stripped her chiton of its ornamental trim to make it a nightgown and removed her undergarments. She tried to turn her mind back to the problem she was actually here to solve. She retrieved Play’s tracer from her locket and checked the list of locations Ocean Discourse had been at since the tracer had started. None of them were of any interest, though it turned out she had been at the party earlier. The golem informed her, with a disdainful sniff of its cartoonishly large canine nose, that Ocean Discourse was now in a private area of the Moon Etherium. The tracer tapped its quill against its scroll. “I will record her location when she’s in public again.”

Ardent patted its canine head. “All right, great.” She set the golem down on the glass stand by her bed.

A blue hummingbird messenger winged into the room from the stairwell. Ardent froze, watching as it flew to her. Rain’s messenger.    

The bird whispered its message into her ear. “Hi, Ardent. It was good to see you at the party. I’m sorry we didn’t get more time to talk.” When it finished, the messenger melted into a curl of mist.

Ardent hesitated, then conjured her farspeaker. “Me too. How have you been?” I already asked that at the party, didn’t I? Idiot.

“I’ve been…missing you. Are you busy? May I join you?”

“Sure, I’d love to see you.” Ardent told the apartment’s wards to let Whisper Rains in, then held her breath until aether curled in the air before her bed. It uncurled again like flower petals, revealing Whispers Rain at the center. She was still wearing her spangled body suit and ribbon-dress from the party. Ardent remembered belatedly to ornament her chiton into more of a day-wear garment. “Hello, Rain.”    

Rain smiled, offering a little wave, and then turned a circle in the air, butterfly wings fluttering. Her curly, vibrant blue hair swung in a halo around her head. “Everything’s just the same.”

“Yeah. I don’t come by much. Kinda surprised the Queen never reclaimed the space. I suppose it’s just about as easy to make new space if you need any, nowadays.” Ardent lay on her stomach on the bed, torso propped by her elbows and a pillow. Rain wasn’t exactly as she remembered, but she was still tiny and delicate, the physical opposite of Ardent. Ardent patted the bed beside her. “Have a seat, if you want.”

Rain perched on the edge of the bed, curling one graceful leg beneath her as she twisted to watch the satyress. “I still can’t believe you re-affiliated.”

“Heh. Me either.” Ardent covered one side of her face with a hand. “The High Court’s worse than ever. I don’t know if I can make this stick, to be honest.”

Rain reached out with a slim brown hand to touch Ardent’s wrist. “You have to stay out of politics this time,” she chided, with a fond smile.

“Yeah, tell politics to stay away from me and we’ll see.” Ardent let Rain draw her hand down, then folded Rain’s small fingers between her own. “How’s that working out for you?”

Her former wife shook her head and waggled the fingers of her free hand. “Imperfectly,” she said, wistful. “But! I am the lead performer for the Winter Solstice Festival this year.”

A smile split Ardent’s face. “That’s fantastic! Do you have your dance choreographed yet?”

“Mostly choreographed. We’re still working out some issues. Vixen and Dagger are wing-painting with me. And of course we still have a lot of practice to go through before it’s ready.”

“Of course.” Ardent looked up into Rain’s oversized golden eyes. “Show me?”

Rain lowered blue lashes. “You know it’s still very rough, and I haven’t practiced nearly enough, and it won’t look right without the others—”

Ardent rolled onto her side, resting her head on one hand, bringing Rain’s hand close to kiss her fingers. “Show me anyway?”

“…all right.” Rain rose above the bed on beating wings. “Give me some room?” Ardent stirred the aether with one hand, and her bedroom’s interior expanded fivefold.

Rain flew straight up, then shifted her wings larger, and swooped out in a spiral of geometric precision. Her wings trailed white light behind her, describing the exact arc of her path. After several passes, she terminated the spiral in a large, perfect circle. The white light in her wake was slowly decaying through the color spectrum, now purple and blue where she’d begun. With the circle complete, Rain twisted through a flurry of organic motions, crafting a stylized dragon in light. Then she darted across the spiral, cutting a new white line to a spot 60 degrees offset from her dragon. By now most of the spiral had decayed to half of a rainbow. Rain drew a sphynx, and flew across to finish the triangle set into the spiral-circle and make a winged horse. Most of the work was now in rainbow colors, the center of the spiral gone to red and then vanished into black. The mythical animals twisted and struggled at their points, as if trapped. As Rain finished with the pegasus, she glanced to the dragon. With exaggerated surprise and concern at its plight, she flew to it, grasped the fading yellow-orange line of the spiral, and tried in vain to pull it off. The dragon’s green jaws parted, and it breathed fire onto the line.

The remains of the spiral and circle exploded in fire. The mythical animals broke loose and spun away. Rain, in a feigned daze, plummeted away from the scene. Ardent scooted into position on the bed beneath her, and caught the fey in outstretched arms. Rain opened her eyes and giggled at Ardent’s smile. “So Vixen and Dagger do three more mythical creatures each, so it’s a nine-pointed star, and theirs are water and ground creatures. We don’t really like the ending yet, though…”    

“I love it,” Ardent said, sincerely. “It’s gorgeous. I am awed by how quickly you work. And that precision flying!”

Rain kicked her heels and looped her arms around Ardent’s neck as she squirmed upright in the satyress’s arms. “Did you really? Even the end?”

Ardent cradled her close to her chest. “Honey, especially the end.”    

“You’re terrible,” Rain said with a giggle, then kissed her.

Ardent closed her eyes, savoring that shy, tentative touch, as if Rain feared she might be rebuffed or evaded. Ardent slipped a hand behind her head and kissed her in return, stroking her soft blue curls, delighted by the feel of her, the silk of wings folded beneath her arm, the litheness of that small, perfectly-formed body against hers.

After a moment, Rain drew back, watching her with huge, luminous eyes. “I really did miss you,” she whispered. “I wish I could have gone with you.” She shifted positions, to straddle Ardent’s lap.

“You couldn’t give up the sky.” Ardent touched her unfolding wings. “I’m sorry I made you choose.” I’m sorry you chose the sky. I’m sorry I chose Try Again. I’m sorry we didn’t make it work, somehow.

“But you’re not making me choose now.” Rain kissed her again, and Ardent fell backwards, pulling Rain down on top of her. When the smaller fey drew back next, it was to frown at a messenger wisp. Rain flicked it away in annoyance, then made the gesture to stop any more messages from interrupting her. She looked down at Ardent. “Do you want to…?”

Ardent smiled, mirroring the stop-messengers gesture. “Oh yes.” Rain kissed her again, and for a few moments they did not talk at all. Then Ardent drew back to speak. “Rain, honey…I wasn’t really joking when I said I don’t think I’m gonna make it last. Staying in the Etherium. I don’t want to mislead you about that.”

Her former wife smiled, though her golden eyes glittered with emotion. She traced a finger over Ardent’s lips. “Do you think you can manage to stay through the night?”

“Yeah.” Ardent kissed her fingertips. “I think I can do that.”

“Then let’s make the most of it,” Rain whispered, and then they were kissing again.

---

Don’t want to wait until the next post to read more? Buy The Moon Etherium now! Or check out the author’s other books: A Rational Arrangement and Further Arrangements.

Comfortable as Ardent’s guest bed was, it was nonetheless far less comfortable than the satyress herself. Miro lay sleepless in it for some time, wondering if it was possible Ardent was attracted to him or if he was misinterpreting friendliness and a kindly tolerance. And even if his wild optimism was justified, was it worth it to complicate matters further, with his position already so precarious?

To distract himself from his problematic infatuation, Miro directed his thoughts to the problem he’d come to the Moon Etherium to solve. Alabaster and ivory, he remembered. I need to check the notebook for exactly which extractors need those. But Ardent might already be asleep. I shouldn’t disturb her for this. It’ll keep until morning. His mind drifted from that to his father, and then to the Sun Etherium.    

§

It had started twenty-five years ago, at one of Miro’s mother’s lavish breakfast gatherings.

The Sun Queen did everything attended by an array of sycophants, favorites, and courtiers. Miro had long ago lost her favor and was seldom subjected to a breakfast invitation, but he’d been summoned today. In theory, he did not have to go. In practice, it was less trouble to attend than not. He arrived exactly on time, sat at the far end of one of two lesser tables, and waited for the event to end so he could leave again.

But before that happened, the Sun Queen craned her neck about from her throne at the high table, and beckoned to him. “Come here, Mirohirokon. I’ve a question for you.”

Miro braced himself and approached with all the equanimity life as a Sun Host prince had drilled into him. He knelt to her, as was the queen’s due. “Your majesty.”

“Dear Tiqo—” Eletanene favored her youngest child with a smile that did not strike Miro as genuine “—has urged me to acquire a new garden for the Palace of the Sun, in that new plant-sculpture style. You have a friend who dabbles in that, don’t you, Mirohirokon?”

“I do, your majesty.” Miro’s closest and oldest friend, in fact. Miro had no desire to bring him to the Queen’s attention.

His mother wrinkled her golden brow in a frown at his reticience. “Well? What’s his name?”

Obviously, I should have concealed this friendship twenty-two years ago, when I formed it. At age six. It was not as if he could conceal it now. “Lilaqalilan, your majesty.”

Eletanene’s brow smoothed, returning her face to flawless perfection. She smiled, expression slight enough that it created no new wrinkles in her skin. “Lilaqalilan. I shall hire him, then.”

Next to their mother, Tiqo clapped her hands in delight. “Oh, thank you, Momma! You won’t regret this!”

“Your majesty is most considerate.” Miro regretted it already.

§

Lilan was excited about the commission, despite Miro’s misgivings. The pay was excellent, and while no one in the Etherium needed money, per se, luxuries like golems and custom-made art, particularly well-designed clothes, were much in demand.

Lilan had been plant-sculpting almost since the art form had been invented, just twenty years ago. It was an art practiced by making small alterations to a plant as it grew, and allowing nature a part in shaping the final work. Because it was such a new art, Lilan’s youth had been less of a hinderance in cultivating his reputation as an expert.

Ama, Miro’s favorite sister, shared his concern about their mother’s motives. “Tiqodomiqon’s been badgering her about plant-scultping for months. It’s all Tiqo talks about. She wants to learn it,” Ama told him one afternoon. They were just outside the Etherium, flying in bird form with one of Miro’s other childhood friends, Talo.

“So perhaps your mother wants to buy Tiqo the credit for designing a garden?” Talo said. “If Tiqo wants to bully Lilan into designing according to her specifications, Lilan’s not got the spine to stop her.”    

“Oh, I wish. Mom hates plant sculpting. She thinks it’s an undignified pursuit.” Ama canted the brown and beige wings of her peregrine’s body and turned in the air.

Talo and Miro dipped to follow her. “What if Tiqo changed her mind?” Talo asked.

“Her majesty is not known for changing her mind. Especially in response to badgering,” Miro said, grimly.

“What Miro said. The best possible option is that she’s decided to tolerate it for Tiqo’s sake.” Ama flapped her wings to level out.

“I hope so. For Lilan’s.” Miro did not ask what Ama considered the worst option. He could envision plenty of those himself.

§

The Sun Queen gave the new garden a good location, at the top of a Palace tower where it could get plenty of natural sunlight and even rain, if Lilan wanted. Lilan gave it a greenhouse shield, which could be attuned to be transparent or opaque, and to permit, filter, or block wind or rain. From the outside, he kept it screened by privacy wards, to preserve the mystery.

Not that Lilan minded if people watched his work in progress. Miro dropped by often to visit, sometimes helping and more often distracting his friend. Lilan’s typical form was of a fashionably handsome man: tall, with a muscular build, dark oversized eyes in an oval face, bronze-gold skin, and deep red hair. He had long, mobile ears that he canted up and down to reflect his mood. Miro had always liked Lilan’s soul, blues and greens full of kindness and gentle affection. He had an eagerness to please that made him good company, if unassertive. That was his soul’s greatest weakness. His fear of being disliked made him easy to manipulate. The occasional streaks of corruption in his soul were the result of times he’d done things he knew were wrong because someone else had talked him into them.

Tiqo did come to help with the garden, but not because the Sun Queen commanded Lilan to work with her. Nor did Lilan object: Tiqo accorded Lilan the deference due an elder fey and a master artisan, which he found endearing. The fey teen was more eager to learn the art than to impose her own vision over Lilan’s, and she was not so obtrusive as to be in the way. Tiqo had a healthy soul, especially for one of Eletanene’s children. She was full of enthusiasm and energy. While she’d been spoiled by too much deference and attention from fey courtiers, it didn’t mar her company most of the time.

The garden grew and blossomed into a mix of fanciful shapes, most organic, with some touches of mathematical regularity. A canopied tree that had each branch fork into two exactly half the original length, at a forty-five degree angle, and each of those fork again, and again. Tree “families” paired two trees of different breeds and surrounded the pairs with a brood of miniature trees that blended their traits. Bushes so dense with flowers that their leaves were obscured. Miro loved it without reservation, a little microcosm of everything that made life in the Etherium worthwhile. And since it was not yet open to the public, it contained none of the people who made life in the Etherium unpleasant.

“You can’t truly like it just because no one else comes here,” Lilan teased him one day. Lilan was working in one of the flower beds, adjusting the spells on the blooms so they’d be more natural and less rigidly controlled.

“Why not?” Miro lazed on his back in one of the garden benches. He batted away a messenger bird made of folded paper as it loomed close. “You should put up a wall that won’t let farspeaking work in here, too. That’d make it perfect.”

“Only for you, Miro. Besides, it’s not as ‘safe’ as you think. Your mother’s been in here a few times.”

“She has? What did she say?” Miro propped himself up to look at Lilan.

“Not much? I can’t tell if she likes it or not. But she hasn’t said anything bad, and she’s been quite understanding about it taking time.” Lilan had his ears canted down. “Princess Tiqo did turn into a mouse to hide from her one time, though. Apparently her majesty told Princess Tiqo at the start that she wasn’t supposed to be involved with the garden at all.” He glanced at Miro. “I told Tiqo I wouldn’t tell, but that she shouldn’t come any more. And now she’s showing up in the form a of a giant bear of a man and calling herself ‘Domi’. Domi claims to be a gardener the queen assigned if I need help. I dunno. Should I keep pretending I can’t tell it’s her?”

“I don’t know, either. I wish you hadn’t taken this job.”

Lilan laughed. “But you’re my biggest fan, Mirohi. You wouldn’t even have this garden without the commission.”

“You’d’ve made another garden. It’d still be great.”

“Not like this. I couldn’t have afforded all the assistants and special plants and tailoring on my own. I know you hate court intrigue, but how bad can it be? It’s not like I’m a courtier. I’m just a gardener. Seriously, though, if you think I should keep Domi out, I will. I don’t want to make trouble.”

Miro shook his head. “I don’t know what’ll make trouble, Lilan. I truly don’t.”

§

After several months, Lilan finished the garden, or at least pronounced it ready for public viewing. To Lilan’s gratification, the Sun Queen planned a large party with an exclusive guest list to celebrate its completion. The party would be the first time the garden would be seen by more than the handful who’d watched its development.

As the artisan responsible for the garden, Lilan received an invitation to the celebration. Miro was not invited, which did not entirely surprise him. Queen Eletanene wasted no love on him, after all. Still, after she’d made a point of asking his best friend to do the work, leaving him off the guest list seemed a little tasteless even by her standards. But at least Tiqo will be there; Lilan will have one friend already, and probably make more on the strength of his artistry.

On the afternoon of the party, Miro was working with his father in Jino’s laboratory. They were dispensing firebuds to various extractor prototypes when Miro received a message from Tiqo: “Miro, Miro, you have to come to the garden. Right now. Justice, please, it’s a disaster, please come.”

Miro summoned a farspeaker scroll to write out his reply. “What happened? I’m not invited, I can’t get in.” The scroll tore a square of itself off, folded itself into a paper bird, and winged away. Aloud, he told Jino, “I have to go, Dad, something’s happened with Lilan’s project.” He teleported to the Palace foyer, then shifted to a sparrow and flew through the corridors and up the stairwell towards the tower top.

Tiqo’s reply came “I know, I opened a gap in the wards on the southeast tower wall, by the peonies. Please, Miro, I can’t – just come.”    

Heart in his throat, Miro flew out one of the windows and winged his way to the southeast wall. He half-expected to see the garden in ruins, but it looked fine. Miro ducked down and wriggled through the gap in the wards, still in sparrow form. Tiqo was there, dressed in an elaborate jacket and full-skirted gown, but with tears on her cheeks. He landed on her outstretched hand. “What happened?” he asked again. From the interior, the garden still looked as splendid as ever. The party didn’t look like a disaster, either. Most of the attendees were clustered near their queen at the center of the garden, laughing uproariously.

“It’s Momma,” Tiqo whispered. “I tried to—” she gulped air “—make her stop, but I, I can’t, she’s horrible—”

Miro launched into the air and flew towards the group. Queen Eletanene was presiding over the crowd with Lilan frozen at her side, her hand gripped about his. “Now, tell us what inspired this group?” the Sun Queen cooed, her voice full of false sweetness. “Ooh, wait, I know. Pubic hair! Just that kind of thin tangly sparseness. And now I know why that little concealed stream is right there!”

The attendees swarmed about her laughed even harder. Lilan did not even try to respond. A few of the partygoers looked embarrassed or sorry for him, but even they had a hard time not smiling. One courtier offered a contribution: “All it needs is a few rabbits! To represent lice!”    

“An excellent suggestion! Do make note of that for the revisions, Lilaqalilan. Now, what’s next…”

Miro moved to Lilan’s side and shifted back to his fey shape as the Sun Queen continued her brutal dissection, mocking everything that was beautiful, elegant, and graceful in the design. She must have spent a lot of time working out the right quips, finding insults with just enough resonance to make the crowd smile, perfecting the delivery of her satire for maximum impact. Miro put an arm around Lilan’s shoulders and ignored everyone else. “Let go of her hand,” he told his friend. “We’re leaving.”

The crowd had stirred in surprise at Miro’s appearance, and his mother glanced over her shoulder to see the source. “But Mirohirokon, he can’t leave now. Why, we’re not even halfway through! There’s so much left of this abomination to explain!”

Miro ignored her. “It doesn’t matter that she’s queen, Lilan. She can’t make you stay. You don’t have to listen to this. Let’s go.” Lilan turned to him, oversized eyes brimmed with tears, features otherwise lifeless. He slid his hand from the queen’s grasp. Miro shifted himself into a bird and Lilan into a mouse to carry him away. The queen would make him pay for this, Miro knew – she’d find a way, just like she’d found this way. But at the time, it seemed more important to help his friend. As soon as they were outside of the Palace’s teleport blocks, Miro teleported them to his house.

§

Alone in Miro’s home near the edge of the Etherium, Lilan disintegrated in Miro’s arms. “I don’t understand. If she hated it, why didn’t she ever say so? She was there a dozen times. I’d’ve changed it. Or stopped. Or anything.”

Miro led him to a couch and pulled him down, holding him, with no idea what else to do. “It doesn’t have anything to do with your garden, Lilan.”

His friend shuddered, slumping against his chest. “You didn’t hear her, oh Love, she despised it, everyone did, they just laughed and laughed—”

“Shh. Shh.” Miro kissed the top of Lilan’s head, helpless to soothe him. “It doesn’t matter what she said. It doesn’t have anything to do with you, or your work. She’s making a point to someone else. Me, maybe. Tiqo, probably. To show Tiqo what she’d do if Tiqo took a hobby her majesty didn’t approve of. Your work is wonderful. Nothing she said can change that.”

Lilan shook his head. “I can’t, I can’t ever do this again. I think I’m going to be sick.” He conjured a basin and bent over to retch into it. Miro held back his hair until he finished, then cleaned his face with aether and magicked away the waste. “Justice, is this what she did to your dad? I never knew. I never knew how horrible people can be. Court’s not always like that. Is it? It can’t be.”

It can be. “It doesn’t matter, Lilan. It’ll be all right.”

But it wouldn’t.

§

Queen Eletanene paid Lilan the balance owed on the commission, of course. She would not have it said the crown did not pay its debts.

On every feyour, she’d had a little picture drawn and a quip written, in mockery of the garden.

Miro found the scrip two days later, scattered across the floor of Lilan’s foyer, spattered with blood. Lilan was dead in the bathtub, with his wrists slit. As Miro wept beside the tub, he wondered if this last twist of the knife had been because of him. Was this the price Eletanene had exacted because Miro had taken her prey away before she’d finished?

Later, at the funeral, his father had said, “It’s not your fault,” but Miro was never sure that was true.

The Sun Queen did not attend, nor did she express any hint of remorse or apology for her actions. She did not even offer condolences to her son.

Tiqo came to the funeral, in the giant male form Tiqo’d called “Domi” before, but this time identified as Tiqodomiqon. The garden party was the last time Miro ever saw Tiqo in a female form. After that, he was always male. If Eletanene’s performance had been intended to terrify Tiqo into obedience, it had the exact opposite effect. Tiqo studied the methods of justiciars, after that, although there was no chance the Sun Queen would ever make him the Justiciar. But Justice was his obsession now.

Miro’s too, in a different form.

---

Don’t want to wait until the next post to read more? Buy The Moon Etherium now! Or check out the author’s other books: A Rational Arrangement and Further Arrangements.

Ardent set Miro down, flicked away the leash, and fell face-first into her pillow nest. She gave an incoherent groan.

Miro sat at the edge of the pit for the sunken sofa, dangling his feet down the back rest. “Are you all right, my lady?”

She thrust out an arm with one thumb up, then struggled to roll onto her back. “Sorry, honey. I’m fine, just glad that’s over.” She lay her head back, frowned, and flicked the elaborate coil of braids back to her normal fluffy mass of loose hair. A short soft chiton replaced the long formal dress. “Wish I knew what was up with treating the Sun Host like a cross between a week-old pustulent corpse and a locust plague. How about you? Want your usual shape back?” She fumbled his homunculus out of a pocket in her chiton and proffered it.

“Yes, thank you.” He took the doll and sighed in relief at losing the extra inches and musculature, then chuckled. “I imagine most of your people can’t even tell the difference between the two shapes.”

She giggled, and shifted to her knees on the couch before him, leaning forward on one arm. She hooked a finger of her free hand around a lock of his once-again deep purple-blue hair. “Color difference here’s a little striking.”

He smiled. “Fair enough. But that aside…”

“Yeah, you’re right. I mean, I’ve seen you swap between them so the whole farmhand vs dancer build is pretty obvious to me. And I talk to mortals a lot so I’m used to telling people apart by slight differences. No offense. But most Moon Host aren’t.”

“Farmhand!” Miro laughed. “I should share that with the Sun Etherium. Perhaps that would give them pause in perpetuating the trend.”

Ardent cocked her head. “What else would you use all that muscle for?”

“It is the build of a Great Warrior,” Miro pronounced, with a self-important bluster on the final words that made Ardent giggle again. He smiled down at her, enjoying the rare chance to see her from a higher vantage. She had looked magnificent at the party, but he liked her better in her everyday clothes, when she looked comfortable and natural. Or perhaps he was drawn to her wide, open smile, with no secrets behind it. Or her warm, radiant soul. So much to admire.

She released the lock of hair and leaned sideways against the couch’s backrest, her legs curled next to her. “Lotta calls for Great Warriors in Sun Etherium, are there?”

“Of course! Almost every immersion, it seems,” he said, making her giggle again. The Sundering had ended the actual martial ambitions of the fey. Fey evasion made it virtually impossible to subdue other fey by force, and having the Etheriums drifting from one world to the next in an uncontrolled and often random fashion made conquering mortals rather pointless. If, indeed, there’d ever been a point to it at all. His memories of being Wind Rider in the immersion rose to the forefront of his mind: his joy in battle, the thrill of using aether as an irresistible weapon, of seeing enemies fall by the dozens under his blades. He – Wind Rider – had been so sure of his own rightness. Of course mortals should bow to fey might, of course fey should rule, of course rebellion must be punished. Anything else was a contravention of the natural order. In the immersion, he could not question it. Now that he was himself again, it was difficult to comprehend a fey mindset that cared how mortals ordered their own affairs.

Ardent’s hand on his knee recalled him to himself. “You doing all right there, honey?”

He tried a reassuring smile. “Yes. I think so.” Miro hesitated. “I don’t know.”

“Want a hug?” She held one arm to her side in invitation.

More than anything. He slid down from his perch on the backrest and fell forward with unseemly haste into her embrace. She enclosed him in powerful arms, pulling him into her lap and holding his head against her shoulder. He took a deep breath and relaxed into her. The contrast between the pillowy softness of her breasts and the strength and solidity of her arms and shoulders was both striking and delightful.    

Ardent carefully extricated his long hair so that it wouldn’t be trapped or pulled between them. “Anything you want to talk about? Is talking about your problems another thing Sun Host doesn’t do?”    

He chuckled, eyes half-closed. “It depends on the problem. And whether you can discuss it without looking weak and dominated by emotion.”

“So, anything that’s an actual problem, basically.”

Miro smiled again. “Just so.”

“Mph.” She rested her face against his hair. “I’m surprised they don’t tell you touching folks is a sign of weakness.”

“Oh, it is. I just don’t care. Dad never cared either. ‘I’m going to hug my son if he’s sad and if you don’t like it you can be impersonal and judgemental elsewhere.’” Miro waved a hand vaguely. “All of us least-favorite offspring tended to rebel by being inappropriately affectionate.”

Another snort. “No wonder you don’t love Sun Etherium. I like your dad. Jinokimijin handled that immersion mess so well.”

Miro grinned. “That’s him all over. He’s always been good at taking a bad situation in stride.” He shuddered. “And dying must have hurt, too, in full immersion.” Another shiver. “I’ve never been so relieved to escape an immersion before.”

Ardent stroked his back. “How bad was it? I didn’t realize how it’d affect you until it was too late – I should’ve—”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” Miro said, sternly. “Although I do appreciate you taking Loreveroro’s role for me. Even I didn’t realize how the immersion would set in until it did. Still, Wind Rider’s part was disorienting, but enjoyable, up until almost the end. Not being able to save Loreveroro was shocking. As if I’d lived my whole life thinking everything was sure to work out as I wanted. The entire revelation of the betrayal came out of nowhere from my perspective.” A half-laugh. “Though obvious enough from my true one. Of course Moon Etherium would make one of the Sun prince victims of the Sundering into a villain.”

Ardent wrinkled her nose. “Oh. That’s right. You don’t actually know the whole of it.”

“Mm?” Miro lifted his head from her shoulder to look at her face.    

“The idea wasn’t to blame the Sundering on one Sun Host prince. It was supposed to be a whole top-down Sun Host plot. Loreveroro knew the whole time. I was just waiting for the best time to muck it up.”

“Oh.” Miro’s long ears canted down. “Oh. And if I’d had Loreveroro’s part, I would have gone along with it. I’d not have had a choice. Fallen wanted my father and me in those roles.”

“Yeah. And sure, everyone would know ‘that’s not how it really went’, but…still. Not sure what she’s getting out of stirring up this old feud. Must be something.” Ardent stroked his hair, lost in thought.    

Miro gave a slight nod, feeling dangerously comfortable. He tried to focus on the concerns at hand, but it was much more pleasant to focus on how good it felt to be cuddling Ardent. To be safe, with someone he trusted, and away from the uncertain and questionable desires of the Moon’s High Court. It’s too bad you couldn’t have made your deal with someone like Ardent, Dad. But if you had, then I wouldn’t’ve been able to get Ardent’s help to rescue you. None of this would’ve worked.

His eyes closed. After a minute, he opened them again. “Have I started to snore yet?” he asked.

“Not yet.” Ardent kissed the top of his head, and Miro wanted to purr. “Should I put you to bed?”

In your bed? Absolutely. Share it with me this time? Miro forced himself to sit upright. “I think I can manage. But I’d best go now, or I will be leaving you with that chore. These mysteries will still be there in the morning.” He took her hand and kissed it. “Good night, my lady.”

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Don’t want to wait until the next post to read more? Buy The Moon Etherium now! Or check out the author’s other books: A Rational Arrangement and Further Arrangements.