I have left here of my own free will. I was not taken, nor lured, nor forced to abscond by any external means. I’ve been faced with many decisions in my life that were not mine to make, but this one is, and I have made it with a mind made sound by years of suffering. I love you, Father, but I cannot stay here, and I certainly cannot go to that crystal prison in Sola Anlae. I do not love him, and they do not love me. By reason of the latter, they should be glad to be rid of me—I know I am certainly glad to be rid of them. I am not glad to be rid of you, Father, and truly, it pains me to write this to you. But if beyond this nest there exists the mere potential of joy, then I shall happily throw myself from the treetops to embrace it as I fall.
With ample love but no regrets,
Auriel
As soon as the ink dried, he folded the page and bound it in string to ensure his final sentiments would hold true. He set the note at the foot of his bed and turned his attention to the little cloth bag sitting open beside it. The servants had always handled the packing any time he’d traveled, but he’d read enough journals and travel accounts to know that a strong purse was just as powerful as strong legs—even more so, in some cases. He had no coins, but he did have several pieces of jewelry and spools of silk thread, which would be more than enough to buy silent passage, should his identity be uncovered.
Along with his tradeable items, he’d also packed a flask of water, a pouch full of nuts, and a small tin of biscuits—it wasn’t much, but he was used to that, and considering the means of escape he’d chosen, keeping his body and its functions light was of the utmost importance. He’d also brought a copy of The Outland Brutes and Bestiary, a well-known Elvish guide to the regions and races that lay beyond the Confederation’s borders. Of course, with a title like that, Auriel knew some things would be exaggerated, but it did contain maps that he believed to be accurate, or at the very least could give him a general idea of what he would encounter. And, for good luck, he’d also packed the little embroidery he’d done of Marigold, who had been decidedly absent from his window these past few nights but nevertheless would provide him a bit of comfort on this long and certainly arduous journey.
He studied these items long and hard before sharply tugging the drawstring closed and affixing the bag to his back. He’d chosen the thinnest, lightest traveling ensemble he owned, consisting of a close-fit linen robe with sleeves tapered to a fitted cuff and a hooded half-cape with only minimal decoration. Near-lifelong confinement in the palace had made the outside world as ignorant to Auriel as he was to it, so he wasn’t overly concerned that the outlanders would recognize him as the soon-to-be-missing Geletran prince. Even so, he needed to be careful. While there were thousands of elves living beyond elvish borders, barely any were of status, and too much finery was sure to set him apart in a suspicious way.
He stood still for a few moments after adjusting his pack, just long enough for his hands to stop trembling, then withdrew a little corked vial from a secret compartment carved into his bed frame. Even in the moonlight, the soft pink seemed so vibrant, and when he uncorked the top, an even more vibrant scent caressed his nostrils with silken fingertips. He took a deep breath, then cupped his left hand and poured the Roseblush out until the vial ran dry. He tossed the empty vial to the side, dipped his fingertips into the pink puddle, and rubbed it vigorously into his skin—first his neck, then his ears, then his face and his hands; whatever excess was left, he patted into various areas of his cloak, robe, and sleeves, so that virtually every part of him had come in contact with the illicit substance.
His cheeks had started to tingle pink the moment he opened the vial, but when the last vestiges of liquid had been absorbed in cloth, his entire body was alight with a kind of warmth that could only be described as orgasmic—or, at least, that’s how others had described it. Auriel had no direct experience in that arena, but considering that the ban on Roseblush had come after multiple sweet-smelling nobles were found dead and bare in each other’s beds the day after a ball, it seemed an appropriate descriptor.
Still, there were no descriptors appropriate enough to convey the sensations that were wracking Auriel’s body at present. It was as though he’d stepped into the mouth of a conflagrant beast, but rather than consume him whole, it simply licked and lapped at his skin with a passionate heat that only grew more pleasant the longer he stood in it. His thoughts were full of pink petals and wine, and all the world around him seemed to be cast in a rosy lilac hue, but despite this dreamlike vision, he’d never felt more aware of nor in control of himself than he did in that moment. His movements were loose and fluid, and every heartbeat seemed to pull his entire torso as it moved in and out, in and out, his blood, lungs, and ribcage all blooming like flowers with every rhythmic thump.
Slowly, but not lazily, Auriel turned to view himself in the mirror. He’d just looked there not too long ago, and yet the elf staring back at him seemed a thousand times more beautiful than the one he’d last seen. Everything about him just looked so…so…perfect. And radiant. And wonderful. Oh, if only the High Prince could see him like this, and breathe in his sweet essence, so that he may fall even harder for Auriel than he already had—so hard, perhaps, that he would crash to the floor and crack open his skull and cry out in pain as the life faded from his eyes. The thought alone was enough to make him smile, but the thought of what was to come later that night left him so giddy he couldn’t stop himself from giggling, nor from rubbing his hands all over his rose-flushed cheeks to sink the pleasant warmth even deeper into his skin.
The giggles gradually turned to hums, and to that self-made music, he rolled his shoulders back and forth and swished his hips from side to side—then crack! came two open palms upon his face, and wide went his eyes as he shook with vigor the drunken whimsy from his head. There would be plenty of time for humming and hip-swaying and other celebratory movements after he had reached the caravan. But for now, he had an escape to make, and for it to be great, he had to stay focused.
Celethir was by no means the first person to have professed a deep, passionate love for Auriel upon first sight. He’d had men, women, and virtually everyone in between throwing themselves at his feet since his adolescence—so many, in fact, that they could’ve populated a modest kingdom, though the constant fighting for Auriel’s hand would have made for quite an unstable political structure. Even so, it didn’t take an explicit act of confession for Auriel to know that Denovin had earned citizenship in the Land of the Infatuated. He’d had barely been Auriel’s guard for three days, yet Auriel had already caught him stealing at least four times as many long, loving, and possibly even lustful looks, nearly all of which were followed by a startled straightening of the head when Auriel had turned his own. Under normal circumstances, such carelessly obvious longing would be grounds for a private guard’s dismissal, but under these nefariously underhanded circumstances that Auriel had created for himself, it couldn’t have been more sublime.
And besides, who could blame Denovin for wanting such a beauteous creature as Auriel in such a passionate way? Really, Auriel would be more offended if he didn’t look upon him with lust, or at least with adoration. Why, just look at him! Look in the mirror at how gorgeously his eyes—
No! No mirrors! No gorgeous eyes! He needed focused eyes, and focused eyes only! So after another two smacks to his burning cheeks, Auriel strode with purpose out of his room, with both of his—perfectly sculpted—eyebrows set in a hard furrow on his—exquisitely structured—face.
In addition to serving as traveling guard, Denovin had also conveniently taken the role of night guard for Auriel’s chambers—a position arranged, of course, by Auriel and questioned surprisingly little by his father, given the vulnerable opportunity such a post would provide for a lovestruck guard in poor control of hiding his attraction. Regardless, for the past three nights, Denovin had stood alone just outside Auriel’s main door, almost certainly dreaming of what it would be like to hold the sleeping beauty that lay within. Well, tonight, he would dream no longer, though Auriel’s prostrate position would still be left to interpretation.
Taking a soft exhale to steady himself, Auriel made three short raps on the door, and as soon as Denovin’s body came fully into view, Auriel grabbed him by his chiseled cheeks and brought their lips together in a passionate kiss.
The normal Auriel wouldn’t have a prayer of moving a trained guard in gold plate armor even an inch from where he stood, but the Roseblush had empowered him in more ways than just vain bravado, so Denovin came stumbling in when Auriel tugged him forth. There was a short cry of shock, easily swallowed into Auriel’s throat, but barely a second passed before Denovin found his footing and Auriel found his back pressed against the nearest wall.
The pleasant hum he’d made before the mirror returned the moment impact was made, and as Denovin held his waist in a firm, possessive grip, the rest of his body soon vibrated in similar fashion. He’d been kissed before, but never like this, and with the Roseblush massaged into every open pore, it was by far the most deliciously intoxicating experience he’d ever had in his life. Immediately, his mind began to wander, first to what lay beneath Denovin’s armored shell, but then to the other side of the palace, in the guest chambers where Celethir lay sleeping. Or perhaps he wasn’t asleep, but rather wracked by thoughts of his betrothed, which begat insomnia and prompted him to spring from his bed and see his beloved, only to catch him in the arms of another man. Outraged, he’d shout, and try to tear them apart, but Denovin would not let it be so. No, he’d fight back, pushed to recalcitrance by his drug-fueled lust, and cut Celethir down in one blow, freeing the fair Auriel from his matrimonial binds and—
“I want you,” Denovin whispered, his lips barely lifting enough to speak. He kissed him once more, strongly but briefly, then moved to Auriel’s neck to suckle at his milky skin. Auriel’s hum turned to a groan, and he arched his head back as Denovin’s teeth joined the fray, but before the guard’s hands could wander too far back from his waist, Auriel threaded his fingers in Denovin’s hair and gave it a firm tug. Immediately, he stood at attention, but not before letting out a pathetic whimper wholly unfitting of a man in his position.
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“Believe me, my darling, the feeling is more than mutual,” Auriel murmured in reply. “There hasn’t been a moment since I first laid eyes on you where I haven’t pictured myself in your embrace.”
“I’ve been thinking the same,” said Denovin, leaning into his lips despite the hand in his hair. Before they could meet, Auriel tugged him again, eliciting another whimper, and placed a finger to his lips to keep them at bay.
“I know you have, but you must listen first. Can you do that for me?”
The finger holding Denovin’s lips trailed down his strong jaw, and the rest of his hand cupped his cheek sweetly. A warm, shaky sigh left Denovin’s lips, and his glazed, drunken eyes gazed into Auriel’s with a desperate shine. “I can, my prince. I’ll do whatever you ask—I’m already yours.”
“Good boy,” said Auriel, releasing his fingers from Denovin’s hair but keeping the other hand on his cheek. “Every fiber of my being is crying out to join with yours, so that we may know each other in all the deepest, most intimate ways—but not now. Not here. You would look lovely in my bed, I know, but it’s far too dangerous to make love to you there.”
“I understand,” Denovin said, though his tone made it clear that he did not agree. “I’d make love in a stable as long as you were in it. I’ll gladly follow wherever you lead.”
“Actually, it’s you that needs to do the leading. I’ve heard of a hidden passageway that connects my chambers to the courtyard, and another from there that will lead us outside the palace walls—do you know it?”
Denovin’s expression remained unchanged, but after a few moments, he nodded slowly. “I believe I do. It should take us out to where the caravans are parked. But why there?”
“Because just beyond that point, there’s a little clearing,” said Auriel, knowing full well there wasn’t. “And on a night like tonight, where the moon is full and the skies unburdened by clouds, all the bushes are in bloom with the most beautiful Shadeblossoms Geletra has ever known. That clearing has been my most treasured sanctuary for nearly all my adult life, and if you were to make love to me there…” A shudder ran through Auriel’s body, and he curled his arms around Denovin’s middle to practically melt into his armor. “…I can only imagine the sounds I’d make beneath you…”
He didn’t have to imagine the sounds Denovin would make above him, for a low, primal sound somewhere between a wheeze and a growl crawled up from his throat as he nuzzled his head into the crook of Auriel’s neck. “Stay close to me,” he murmured, his hot breath practically scorching Auriel’s ear with every word. “I’ll keep you safe, my prince, I promise. Just stay with me, and allow me to—”
“Focus, my love,” Auriel insisted, pulling Denovin’s head up once more and forcing their glassy eyes to meet. “There will be plenty of time for sweet words and sweeter touches when we reach the clearing, but we have to get there first. So take me there, my precious one. Take me through your secret passage, and I shall lead you into mine.”
Another primal growl rumbled low in Denovin’s throat, but before it could travel any further than that, he gave his head a hard shake, took Auriel’s hand in his own, and led him out the door.
Whether the halls beyond this one were empty, Auriel did not know, and luckily, he did not have to, for Denovin stopped just shy of its end and dropped to his knees with all the grace of a seafaring drunk. While the hand that connected them remained locked firmly in place, the other swiped back and forth across the molding on the floor. He pawed over the same spot nearly ten times before his finger finally caught something in a click, and when it did, a short section of the wall turned inward without a sound. He looked up to Auriel with a deliriously eager grin and tugged him to the floor with greater force than was probably intended, but Denovin caught him gently before he went tumbling. He held Auriel there for a moment or two, his hands drifting once more to that enticing little waist, but he soon remembered their position and instead led Auriel through the short passage in an awkward crouched shuffle.
Barely two feet of landing separated hall from spiral stair, and a few tiny glowing stones embedded into the walls were the only source of light offered in the void. The stones were probably green, or perhaps even blue, but in Auriel’s eyes, all was still pink, and it took every ounce of grace he could muster to move down three steps and allow Denovin enough room to close the wall behind him. Auriel didn’t properly rise to his feet until that soft click sounded once again, and even then, he remained with his back pressed to the cold stone for many moments after. It wasn’t until Denovin made his own shaky rise, the plates of his armor scraping against the passageway with all the sharpness of a tight violin, that Auriel practically jumped up and ran down the stairs—though to one whose eyes were not misted with pink, it probably looked more like a flailing stumble.
He’d worn soft shoes, but nevertheless his footsteps echoed in the narrow spiral staircase, albeit not nearly as loudly as Denovin’s plates as they knocked both against themselves and occasionally the stones on either side of him. Still, in spite of the din, they reached the bottom of the stairs without discovery, and Auriel threw himself against the door at its foot with arms splayed wide, as if he were embracing it. Denovin did the same, enveloping Auriel’s body in its entirety and pressing into him with so much force that it was a wonder the hinges remained intact. Auriel released a groan, more of impatience than passion, though a great many sensations did come through him from being forced into such a position. Even so, as Denovin’s lips made their return to his neck, he whipped his head to the side and growled through his teeth, “Open this. Now.”
Denovin released a groan of his own and parted his lips to reveal an eager tongue, but when Auriel bared his teeth like a beast, he immediately drew back and went searching for a latch. Auriel remained pressed against the door, both for lack of space but also for how refreshing the cold wood felt against his burning hot skin. Standing still like this, his pounding heart had finally begun to quell, and he even allowed his eyes to drift shut—but then there came another click, and all the fire in his body returned with twice the strength as the door gave way.
They entered into another dusty chamber, one without any stairs but with a few winding turns that eventually led them to another door. This time, Denovin went straight for the latch, and when this new door opened, Auriel found himself stumbling forth onto soft grass. The crisp night air pricked its spindly fingers all over his beet-red face, and though he fell forth to his knees from a lack of balance, his lips broke into a clownish grin as he viewed the caravans sitting less than a hundred yards away.
His glee kept him frozen in that position on the ground, and even as Denovin lifted him to his feet, Auriel’s gaze remained firmly fixed on the box-laden carts. It was only the realization that Denovin had slipped a hand under the skirt of his robe that brought him back to the present.
“Please, my love,” murmured Auriel, his hand fumbling to find Denovin’s arm. “You have to wait—”
“I can’t wait,” Denovin growled, tightening his hold. “I need you, my prince. I need you so deeply…”
“I know you do, but you must wait,” Auriel groaned back, pressing his palm into Denovin’s wrist. “We’re so very close—the clearing is just over there.”
“Prince Auriel…”
“Just a few more minutes, my dear. Just a few more minutes, and I’ll be yours for the night, and for many nights after. I don’t want anyone else to see us—to see me. Only you can see me that way, at my most bare, my most base, my most beautiful. Please, Denovin…take me to the clearing, and I will take you to the heavens.”
Denovin’s hand finally stilled in its progression, but not before gripping Auriel’s thigh with enough force to leave throbbing marks on his skin. Auriel hissed in pain, but he quickly went quiet as Denovin took him by the hand and led him over to a patch of trees just across the way. Once the trees grew dense enough to hide them from outside view, Auriel grabbed Denovin by the cheeks and kissed him hard, far harder than he had before, and held him so tightly that he couldn’t pull away—nor breathe.
At first, Denovin reciprocated the savage kiss with great strength of his own, once again snaking his strong arms around Auriel’s lithe body, but it didn’t take long for the connection to weaken. His eager lips grew slow, his footing unstable, the iron grip on Auriel’s waist gradually slipping from his hands—until all three gave way entirely, and when Auriel released him, Denovin fell to the ground like a toppled stone pillar.
Auriel stood still for a few moments after the fall, then slowly came to a crouch to examine the fallen guard. He was breathing, albeit slowly, and two fingers to the neck revealed his heart kept a similar pace. Gently, Auriel closed his gaping mouth and pressed a final kiss to Denovin’s dirtied forehead.
“Thank you, my dear,” he murmured sweetly in his ear. “I pray your execution is swift and painless. Father will be livid when he finds out I’m gone, and I highly doubt he’d spare your life.”
The self-satisfied smile that had played upon his lips faded as he spoke, and he found himself gazing upon his mother’s ring. Seyfrus would be livid, of course, but more than that, he would be destroyed. Devastated. Filled with immeasurable pain and unimaginable sorrow as his only son absconds in the night like some—
He closed a fist over the ring and shook his head. This wasn’t about Seyfrus; this was about Auriel doing what Auriel wanted to do. Let Seyfrus drown in his indescribable emptiness—it was the least he could do for letting his son do the same.
Taking a deep breath, Auriel rose to his feet and crept on through the trees, his heart beating harder and harder as he inched closer and closer to the encampment of caravans. He kept his head on a swivel, lest anyone see him, but none were around to do any seeing. No guards, no vagrants, not even a bird, nor any other woodland creature. Well, there were insects, surely, but he didn’t like to think about those—nor could he, really. In this moment, all he could think about were those great wooden carts with their great wooden boxes, more treasured than gold and far more beautiful than crystal could ever be.
When he reached the very edge of the trees, he stopped and hid behind the largest trunk. The closest cart was just a few yards away, and the closest man was asleep on a bedroll right beside it. Auriel breathed in, then out, then dropped to a crouch and made his way, slowly and silently, to the back of the wagon. He looked to his left, where the sleeping man lay, and then to his right, where there lay nothing but empty grass. Finally, he looked over his shoulder, and upon seeing the trees exactly how he left them, he climbed into the wagon’s covered bed.
There were boxes of all sizes and shapes sitting there, nearly all of which were nailed shut, save for a long one in the center with its lid set askew. It was perfect: just shallow enough that he could step into it without great strain but more than deep enough to allow him a bit of breathing room once inside of it.
He wasted no time in sliding the lid over and found the box merely half-full of folded linens, some coarse and some fine. Grinning now from ear to ear, Auriel parted the stacks and stepped into the box, rearranging the fabrics so they covered him sufficiently—save, of course, for a tiny opening at the top, one just big enough to slip his arm through. It was an awkward business, resliding the lid back into place from such a position, but he managed nevertheless, and when all was dark and black above him, Auriel embraced himself and rocked side to side as much as he could within the confines of the box. He’d done it! He’d escaped! He could finally shut his eyes and allow the Roseblush to carry him into slumber, just as this wagon would carry him to the freedom for which he’d so long yearned…
Outside the box, he could hear a bird chirping.
