III

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

It was the snowflake that landed on his nose that brought him from his reverie.

Suddenly cockeyed, Aëghan blinked, his boots grinding to a halt upon the gravel as he suddenly became aware of his surroundings.

Shit, he had done it again.

The trees of the forest stirred with the wind that billowed across the open road he was stationed in the centre of, sending snowflakes eddying and twirling across his vision, and light dustings of powder began to settle on the evergreen leaves and boughs stretched towards him. He cursed inwardly, assessing his location, and quickly assured himself that he was alone, that his brief foray from the Ravensfield estate went unnoticed. A cluster of pixies made their presence known from the branches of a towering cedar, mewling in delight at his encroaching presence, but other than that he was mercifully by himself.

Aëghan Dranora, a faeborn of Dravolese descent, made to run his hand through his hair in a gesture of vexation, only to discover something hard and metallic clamped in his fist. Perplexed, he uncurled his fingers and studied the object now sitting in the middle of his outstretched palm.

A fine, gold chain coiled against his skin like a tiny burnished serpent, and amidst the delicate links sat an intricately cut amethyst stone.

Well, that was simply perfect, he thought dryly. He was already regarded with circumspection by all the residents in Ravensfield, and here he was robbing them to boot. Whoever the necklace belonged to would surely note its disappearance soon enough, and another litany of vulgar curses flew through his mind.

He closed his fingers about the chain and pocketed it quickly, out of sight until he could return it. Instinctually, he balked at the notion, the dragon within him demanding he claim the trinket and stow it with the other items he had been collecting, but he tamped the urge down with a vehemence that seemed to subdue the nature of his beast.

It was a bizarre occurrence that had overtaken his actions subconsciously within the last fortnight- his sudden loss of accountability for a short spell at what he was doing, as if guided by some invisible force that entrapped his will and rendered him unawares. At least, Aëghan mused, he hadn't traipsed far from Ravensfield this time. The previous incidents, he had come to within his own lodgings, deep within a forest and many miles away from the house he needed to be in. It was disconcerting to lose track of one's self, the loss of control of his faculties something that would partially frighten him if Aëghan wasn't completely certain that it was the dragon within him asserting dominance.

Thankfully, the urges to roost and hoard hadn't been noticed by others yet, and up until the necklace sitting in his pocket, the only items now littering his home included various bits of feminine clothing, perfumes and oils, sweets and candies the dragon had pilfered from the larders, a few fanciful books of fairy tales, and other items that would only suit the needs of a female, and were of little value, purchased from various village markets. It was odd that the dragon would resort to theft though according to his inner protests the necklace must be of meaningful import to him.

He had heard speculation from older fae that his kind were prone to adopt the instinctual tendencies of the beasts they preferred to take the form of after a certain time, and Aëghan was quick to realise what had begun to afflict him. He was not too impressed with the reasons why he had begun these pilfering activities, though.

The message the dragon was issuing was blatantly obvious- his roost was being prepared to receive a mate.

Even if he was not actively aware or consciously involved in the preparations.

He grunted, outwardly vexed. It was inevitable, Dellanae had told him, that once the dragon reached his prime age the need for a mate would begin to take precedence over his actions. But Aëghan wasn't interested in acquiring something so... permanent. And the dragon merged with his soul was growing impatient.

He made to tug his cloak tighter across his shoulders, a chill blasting across his limbs as the wind picked up, only to discover that he had ventured from the estate without one. He cursed again- both the weather and the dragon. He loathed the cold, and he was some distance from the manor house. The pitiful amount of fire magic the beastkeeper had given him once in exchange for a service did not extend to keeping his limbs shielded from the ice and it only served to darken his mood further.

Turning on his heel, he began a purposeful and hasty march back. Snowflakes caught in his hair, the wind whipping the long strands before his eyes and he brushed them away with agitated motions, endeavouring to recall what he had been doing before the instinct had taken over.

It had succeeded his meeting with the matchmaker- probably the only woman in existence to make him feel concerned with her steadfast doggedness. There was something persistent about her he could respect- from a distance, of course. Yet he needed her services. He needed to make a match, a very particular match, and Mrs Holt was the key.

It was the only option available to him in any event, if he wanted to make the acquaintance of Lillian Adams, the eldest sister of the Ravensfield daughters. But he'd be damned if the youngest wasn't the most vexing female to have ever lived... Mildred Adams had issued a ban- Aëghan was never to be in the same room as Lillian, or even the same wing, and the house was large enough to ensure that their activities were kept strictly separate. He doubted Lillian even knew of his existence thanks to the bull-headed Draëllians that guarded her every movement and blocked his entrance or exit to any chamber, hallway, passage, or blasted privy if they believed Lillian was nearby.

It grated on every last nerve in his being knowing that the woman he needed to see above all others was so very close within his reach, but entirely unattainable.

Aëghan could have forced the matter, though he needed to remain in good standing with the youngest- her agreement to grant him access to her lands and properties without the constant threat of persecution was the closest thing to freedom his kind had received, and he may be a lot of things but depriving his people of that was something he couldn't stomach.

So he did something he never did- exercised patience. He waited for an opportunity to present itself for two weeks and it had been an effort in futility with the Draëllians always nearby, but then three pretty things had been dropped in his lap quite by accident that day.

Aëghan did not have an honourable intention in his body with regards to the three ladies he had met by chance in the same drawing room where Mrs Addilyn Holt was meeting with them to ascertain their prospects as her clients, yet they provided him with the opening he so desperately needed. He had been charming and flirtatious, and the ladies were quick to become enamoured with him- something Aëghan was no stranger to, should he wish it- and it was at their insistence that Mrs Holt had agreed to consider his application to join her service. He had left those chambers with a cocksure swing to his step, almost about ready to whistle a jaunty tune so sure was he that the matchmaker would not deny the cajoling voices of the pretty human ladies vouching for his patronage, and that was when his memory seemed to darken and the dragon took over.

He had no desire to actually make a match- the notion made him recoil in distaste- but it was public knowledge that Lady Lillian Adams was just one of Mrs Holt's esteemed clients- and seeking a husband, possibly soon if the family's unfortunate past was anything to go by. But Aëghan didn't need to marry the woman, he merely needed to see her and meet with her, to convince her of one outing- and therein lay the real challenge, but he had to at least have a means to meet with her first.

The wind picked up, the cold air brutally caressing his exposed flesh, and he hastened his step while his thoughts turned through his mind.

Lillian Adams was the only known being that had made the journey between each of their worlds and returned. It was unheard of, unfathomable, and it was the one thing he desired more than anything- to return to his home, his people, and rid himself of this unforgiving, polluted land once and for all.

The dragon within him itched in agreement, eager to spread its wings unhindered and take to the sky without the threat of being netted, cuffed and confined to a small iron cell for the remainder of its days.

For that price of freedom, there was very little Aëghan wouldn't do. And he needed to know everything that Lillian knew, to learn whether she still carried the scent of his homeland, the magic, upon her flesh after all this time yet- if she even did so anymore.

Upon arrival once more within Ravensfield, he began to swipe at the snow that clung to his shoulders and hair in the entry foyer when Rogane and Caëlhon entered from the passage to the left.

Perfect- just the two imbeciles he needed to see right then.

There was no love lost between him and the four Draëllians whose territories used to surround and sometimes intercept his own. Their desires and ambitions for their kind were similar in nature though wholly different at the same time: where Aëghan was prone to action, inciting occurrences that would help spark the kindling of change, the beastkeepers were too compliant for his tastes, preferring a stance of defence against a society that outwardly scorned their kind.

"How peculiar you are allowed to roam the halls unsupervised," Aëghan drawled, deliberately provoking, as soon as he noticed them. "Where are your handlers, hmm? Perhaps they ought to be informed that you have strayed from the paddocks."

Rogane and Caëlhon's gaze swept over him, somewhat startled at the interruption he had caused as they drew to a thoughtful standstill close by. Their words weren't immediately forthcoming and the two beastkeepers shared a speaking look with each other- Aëghan didn't expect them to be eager to converse with him, in any event- so he snorted disparagingly before moving swiftly down the hallway that would eventually lead him to his chambers.

"Aëghan, wait!" Rogane hastened to call out. "Perhaps we should endeavour to reside under the same roof amicably- at least for the time being."

That made him huff a laugh and he continued to walk, dismissing them.

"Join us for a drink before dinner," Caëlhon added. "Lord and Lady Adams would insist that you join us."

Aëghan hesitated, enough to provoke the final response from Rogane, "The finest whiskey should be temptation enough."

Aëghan cared more about the wart on some unfortunate creature's chin than he did about the whiskey, but it was Caëlhon's last words that tempted him to consider their offer, and consider it well. For where one sister went, normally the other was sure to follow.

He turned suddenly, unable to quell the shit-eating grin that curled the corners of his lips into the folds of his cheeks. Why, however, the two buffoons were smiling as well was beyond him- perhaps they were more dense than he initially perceived. "You had me at whiskey," Aëghan said smoothly. Inclining his chin once in acquiescence, he made a gesture with one wrist. "Lead the way, gentlemen."

The Draëllians shared yet another look before taking off towards the east wing of the house- a direction that Aëghan interpreted as promising. This particular wing was the one where he had the minimal access to throughout the duration of his stay, convincing him that Lillian Adams did indeed spend the majority of her time this side of the house.

Soon they entered a darkened study, heavy forest green drapes drawn closed over the array of paned windows lined against one wall. Mahogany panelling ran around the perimeter of the impressive chambers, providing a distinct masculine aesthetic that was only aided through depictions of hunts that hung from gild-framed oil paintings along the walls and the heavy leather armchairs about the hearth. A service against one wall stocked a variety of crystal decanters that all glistened with the amber warmth of the liquor contained within.

The chamber was not empty when they entered however, as the third beastkeeper made his sullen presence known with a grunt of discontent upon their arrival. Kaede C'lainn, the twin brother of Caëlhon C'lainn, hunkered down with a look of desolation in one corner, the chair he reposed on pushed against the wall where the deepest shadows lingered. While Rogane loped across the expanse of the room to throw open the drapes and Caëlhon busied himself at the service, Aëghan unapologetically threw himself into one of the armchairs close to the hearth, silently sending a prayer of thanks to the gods for the warmth from the lit fire.

"Still sore about stabbing your best friend?" he asked the morose young Draëllian. It was with some small amount of surprise that Aëghan felt a tiny stab of guilt at his deliberate goad and he frowned slightly for it. Was the dragon making him soft? He shouldn't be concerned with the feelings of the three men- there was years of angst between them, years of barbed words and taunts. They, too, had their fair share of jabs at Aëghan's dignity.

Besides, he would never be quite as idiotic as to drink from a cup that had been tainted with an enchantment that would cause him to harm one of his closest friends.

Aëghan liked to think himself smarter than that.

"Why are you here?" Kaede grumbled, his eyes shifting with unease and suspicion as he studied Aëghan.

"A peace offering," Rogane said, hasty to answer before Aëghan could. "Or something along those lines."

"We share a common goal now," Caëlhon remarked as he pressed a crystal tumbler of whiskey into Aëghan's palm before taking his own seat. "And a common ally."

"It still makes him a common ass," Kaede muttered, burying his nose in his own glass of liquor that he had clearly been nursing for quite some time prior to their arrival.

If the whelp wanted a battle of tongues, then he would receive one in abundance. Aëghan smiled at him, nonplussed, before saying, "At least this common ass has the foresight to identify a tarnished liquor before ingesting it." For emphasis, he saluted the young Draëllian with his glass and tipped the drink to his lips.

Immediately, he made a face. Finest whiskey? More like finest swill if the tart, unpleasant taste of the liquor was anythi-

Oh.

Oh no.

Rogane's hand came down hard upon Aëghan's shoulder in a gesture of forced comradery. "What's that you say, Aëghan? I did not quite catch it."

His knuckles tightened about the glass that now rested on the armrest of the chair and Aëghan struggled to maintain an outward projection of calm amusement. Inwardly, he was livid- livid at himself and at the machinations of the others. He doubted the enchantment that laced the whiskey in his glass would have any serious implications- the Draëllians would merely want to make a fool of him and nothing more- though he made a mental note to fix his own drink and food from then on.

He mustered a unperturbed grin to twist his mouth as he turned his head towards the dark haired Draëllian standing over him. "What sort of enchantment did you put in my drink?" he asked and there was a pinch of tightness to his voice that he couldn't quite keep from it.

A wolfish grin swept up Rogane's face, revealing a wide crescent of starkly white teeth. "A harmless love potion," he said cheerfully. "You'll be perfectly fine a quarter of an hour after your encounter with the next woman you lay eyes upon."

The other two idiots snickered and Aëghan was sorely tempted to toss the rest of his drink at them. Instead, he shrugged Rogane's hand from his shoulder and slammed his glass on the side table between them. Rolling to his feet, he marched purposefully away from the lot of them, fully intending to ride out the worst of whatever effects would befall him in the privacy of his own chambers. He'd not be mindless entertainment fodder for a trio of halfwits-

"It's a little prank, Aëghan," Caëlhon chuckled. "Be a sport and linger awhile- we'll behave and make it up to you, amend for our devious ways."

Aëghan reached for the door, a biting retort primed at the threshold of his lips, but before he could utter it the door flew open, the wooden frame jarring his arm as it swung wide, and his gaze became arrested by a set of cold blue eyes belonging to a human woman that had the staggering effect of making the blood in his veins roar through his body and his skin come alive with the awareness of her.

And then he no longer knew what he was about anymore.