The Elven Lord's Concubine: Volume Three (Esryian Tales Book 3) by Leona Sure

Author:Leona Sure [Sure, Leona]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-03-13T18:30:00+00:00

The Fish, the Bear, and the Heir

“May I approach, mir aesolin?”

The man that stood below the dais wore a costume of supple, grayish brown leather. Cera thought it was seal’s leather, but she knew there were other pinnipeds, and that they all had similar-looking skin. While she puzzled over the costume, Isael sighed and turned away from her, leveling a look of disinterest on the man.

“Come,” he said, giving a curt wave of his hand.

The man’s costume came down in a tail fin that clung tightly to his legs. While he’d been standing still, the costume had looked impressive, but as he walked, his movement was restricted, causing him to waddle as he made his way up the steps. Without meaning to, Cera laughed, and then glanced away, feigning amusement at the dancers. She ignored Isael’s knowing look.

They’d finished dancing only moments earlier, returning to sit at the table of honor. It was empty, save for Edalina, who’d followed them back, though Isael had yet to acknowledge her and she hadn’t made a bid for his attention. The rest of the esolin either danced or mingled with the nobility at the tables below.

Cera had danced for as long as she could, but even with Isael’s wind holding her up, she was exhausted. They’d gone through several dances, and each time he’d pulled his magic back, Cera had become increasingly aware of the weight of her outfit and the growing ache in her ankles.

She felt guilty for needing him to chaperone her back to the table, and guiltier still when he sat down next to her, despite expressing that he could’ve danced all night. Even as he sat with his chin perched, Isael had an air of exuberance about him.

For Cera, his energy was palpable. He hadn’t let go of her hand since he’d stopped dancing, and she could feel the steady thrum of vitality just beneath his skin. As always, Isael’s energy felt like a strong current, one she didn’t dare try to dip into, as she’d done to Mara. But now that he’d told her she’d taken energy from him the day before, her curiosity was piqued. If she could do it unconsciously, then perhaps she could consciously draw from him to restore her own depleted reserves.

Now wasn’t the time or place for an attempt. She knew that, but it was hard to ignore the wellspring rushing beneath his palm when she felt so thirsty.

Was her tiredness truly from making two tiny, little babies? They couldn’t have been bigger than dust motes. If this was how she felt now, she didn’t know how she’d manage when they were the size of Mara’s baby. Energy aside, she didn’t know how she’d fit two babies that size inside of her, period.

The pinniped man arrived in front of them, drawing Cera from her musings. He was holding a small, wooden box engraved with ocean waves and a knotted pattern. He bowed deeply before addressing Isael.

“Mir aesolin, I come on behalf of Somodryn Esolin, who regrets that he could not join you on this.

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