IX

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

As the door to her chambers slammed shut behind her, Lillian sank her shoulders against the cool wood, her knees buckling until she slid to the floor in a folded heap of limbs. Her skirts billowed about her hips in a pool of glistening, silver-threaded burgundy lace and satin until they settled languidly against the floorboards and her thighs.

Her heart was a wild, untamed roar within the cavern of her chest, so loud and violent that a dull ache had taken root. Her tremors... the trembling... had been uncontrollable. She had had to clench her fingers tightly at her sides, her fingernails biting into the flesh of her palms, to diminish the noticeability of it from those close to her.

She had not expected Addilyn Holt to mobilise her matches as quickly as she had.

Four.

Four men- human and Other- had convened upon Ravensfield that evening, in time to regale her with incessant flatteries and persistent attentions, when she had only come across their profiles that morning.

It had been an ordeal in tedium, yet by the end of it her nerves had spiked, sweat beading upon her skin, her heart reverberating within her chest- and Lillian had to retreat to the sanctity of her private quarters, even though the hour was early yet.

Your eyes are the bluest of blue! They remind me of... of the sky, a peony, a blue swatch of lace, one of the fae males had spouted. A special allowance had to be made for him at the dinner table that evening, his wings tucked neatly against his shoulder blades. Dark, sleek feathers rustled and shifted with the slightest movement, and he had been prone to preening them on occasion- as if brandishing their quality for her admiration- but due to the cumbersome nature of them the male had to sit upon a backless stool, the tips of his majestic appendages draped along the floor.

The wings unnerved Lillian more than any of the other males present simply because of the memories they invoked, the recollections of being plucked up as if she were nothing more than weak prey. She had not encountered their kind often in the Otherworld, but the three times that she had endured their presence as they frequented the court that had tolerated her had sullied her experience with the beings to ensure that she would never truly feel comfortable among the winged fae, even when they posed her no threat.

It had put her off heights, too.

The other fae male had been reserved with his compliments, yet the intensity of his black gaze had made her squirm uncomfortably against the wood of her chair. This being had webbed fingers and mottled, pelt-like skin- clearly some kind of aquatic type, though she had never encountered one before in their realm.

Of the two human men present, Sir Harold and Mr Pembroke, the former had been the most insistent and... annoying. Sir Harold was prone to announce to everyone at large that he was well acquainted with every well-known, influential, empowered individual in England while simultaneously harping on about his underwhelming achievements in all things pertaining to lepidopterology.

Mr Pembroke, however, had seemed mild-mannered and pleasing enough- a perfect gentleman. He was young, good-looking, and wealthy.

If Lillian was in the right frame of mind to entertain notions of husband acquiring right then, she would have easily acquiesced to accept Mr Pembroke as her match and be done with it. Though she hardly knew the man, and his capabilities at leadership, there was an element of trainability about him, of mildness and immovability, which had not been evident in the other guests. He would be the safest option, the easiest choice, and one that would alleviate her of the cumbersome hypothetical burden that lay heavily across her shoulders as each day passed.

But as soon as the words sat on her tongue, her stomach heaved and she was filled with repugnance, her body's vehement aversion to the notion of marriage stalling her decision indefinitely. It did not bode well for her- this inability to settle the matter of acquiring a husband quickly. She needed to rid herself of the affliction and before speculation of the arrival of one of the sacred marks began to surface.

Presently, she pressed the heels of her palms against her eyes, squeezing them shut in a vain attempt to wish herself away from the situation.

Simply, she didn't want to marry.

She would have conceived herself to be averse to marrying one of the fae, but it appeared that she was mentally rejecting all men, not just the Other.

Frustration and anxiety warred within her and she felt her hands trembling against her forehead. She huffed two deep breaths, holding them within her chest before releasing them slowly. It didn't do much to ease the trembling, but it helped give Lillian the impression that she may have some control over her body yet.

For a long moment further she simply sat as she was, crumpled against the door of her chamber, until sounds pricked at her consciousness- the crackle of the fire behind her grate, the muffled howl of the wind outside as it rattled the frames of her windows, the soft murmuring voices of servants or guests from several passages away, the comfortable and familiar creak of floorboards that she recalled once frightened her in her youth yet now she knew it was the old foundations of the house settling.

Slowly, Lillian rose, her legs more stable, and she made her way to her armoire. She wouldn't summon someone to aid her undress, preferring her solitude right then, and began to remove the layers of her evening dress when her gaze settled on a dark piece of material sticking out from the dark wooden furniture, seemingly at odds with her neatly folded and coordinated wardrobe.

A frown creased her brow as memories of her encounter with the Dravolese male suffused her- a blooming warmth heated her cheeks, stirred her blood- and suddenly she wasn't consumed with her mild panic at the notion of her matches within Ravensfield.

Instinctually, she reached out and rubbed the fabric of his coat between her thumb and forefinger. Her arm panged with a dull throb of pain every now and then, but after Aëghan had tended to the wound and Lillian had fled to her room, she had rested and slept the afternoon away, thrusting his coat and scarf inside her armoire where someone would not find it since she had forgotten to remove it in her turmoil earlier.

She would need to have it returned to him, she knew, but the memory of the fabric encompassing her frame while she was cradled in his strong arms, the pleasant scents of the male washing over her with tantalising awareness, as every muscle of his chest flexed and shifted against the parts of her that were pressed up against him...

She shouldn't feel enticed by him, she shouldn't find him compelling and intriguing, but her thoughts tended to drift to the Dravolese male more frequently that she cared to admit. Her fingers twitched, not with tremors, but with the urge to run them through his flyaway locks that fell haphazardly about his forehead and temples. Her breath caught, not with fear or trepidation, but simply because he was so unequivocally beautiful that each time she set her gaze upon him her entire anatomy became arrested by the realisation.

Shaking her head, Lillian silently berated herself. Such notions were fanciful and dangerous- and Aëghan was exactly that. A fanciful, dangerous distraction.

His unpredictability made him unstable; the mysterious appeal about him foretold of hidden agendas and motives that made him intrinsically untrustworthy. Lillian was no fool- Aëghan's presence at Ravensfield went far deeper than his desire to seek out a suitable refuge for his people. Though she didn't know what... the mistrust the others had for him- her sister, the four beastkeepers- played prevalently throughout their interactions with the male, as if they half-expected him to suddenly do something preposterous without any warning at all and they were merely attempting to figure out what before he did.

Her fingers dropped from the fabric of his coat and she removed the rest of her attire until she was naked before her armoire. She hesitated, avoiding her reflection in the looking glass so she did not linger upon the scars that ravaged the left side of her body, cold seeping through her limbs, as she reached for one of her plain and ordinary night rails, her eyes drifting to the dark blue sleeve of the coat once more.

She cursed herself a fool even as she removed the garment from the wardrobe and draped it over her shoulders. Immediately, the material brushed across her naked flesh like a tangible caress, almost warmly, and a shudder of pure, undiluted desire poured through her at the sultriness of her actions. Lillian brought the lapels to her face, inhaling deeply of his scent- of rain and pine and something intrinsically him- a deep, tangy musk that titillated her imaginings.

The coat swamped her limbs, the sleeves dangling past her fingertips and the hem below her knees when she dropped her arms, and she tugged it closed about her waist. Calmness enveloped her, the breaths that left her chest even and smooth, and she noticed that while her trembling had not eased altogether, her fingers had certainly become more manageable.

She knew she was a fool to allow the male to affect her so, but while she was in the privacy of her chambers where nobody could see her idiocy, Lillian allowed herself the small liberty. On the morrow, she would return his coat and be done with him entirely. For now, she would relish the feelings that permeated her as the garment caressed her bare skin.

Placing herself on the bench by her vanity where she began to unplait her braid and comb her long hair, she noted Addilyn Holt's dratted tablet. It sat atop the table where she had last deposited it, a profile catching her eye by the wickedly grinning caricature in the top corner. There was something familiar about that depiction, even though its likeness was quite absurd, and Lillian couldn't help but lean forward to peruse the contents.

Species: Other- Dravolese

Height: 6'7

Appearance: Black hair; blue eyes

Client's note: "Fly away with me."

She was almost certain that the profile belonged to her Dravolese. The crooked, wickedly insinuating grin his caricature wore was too obvious an attribute to be construed as any other.

Suddenly, Lillian was annoyed, and perhaps a bit jealous, of Aëghan Dranora. His note, fly away with me, particularly irked her. Hadn't Millie told her that the male had the astounding ability to transform into a dragon? Was it not how he had abducted her sister, half-naked, and transported her some considerable distance away from her new husband as some sort of ill-mannered taunt? Lillian shook her head, glaring down at the tablet resting now on her lap.

How easy it was for him, to simply fly away whenever an inconvenience befell him? His profile, his grinning caricature and flippant credo, bespoke of his cavalier nonchalance- as if the mere word 'responsibility' eluded him. Lillian, along with many, were not afforded that privilege. Her responsibilities weighed heavily upon her thoughts day after day, even when she was far removed from them. In the Otherworld, her guilt had been rife with her terror- guilt for abandoning her younger sister who had only just been duped by her beau, guilt at abandoning her father who doted upon both his daughters yet Lillian took after him more with her soft-spoken tenacity and authority.

Millie had done well enough in her absence, yet Lillian still harboured those feelings of guilt. She had always taken care of her own, becoming stern and aloof so that Millie could flourish and enjoy her younger sibling role within the household. She had shielded Millie from harsher punishments, from harsher realities and speculations within society when they arose- and when their mother had died shortly after birthing Millie, Lillian had played the role of older sister and caregiver astutely, and relished it.

Millie had needed Lillian and indeed they had been close. Different as night and day, yet close. Upon Lillian's return, it had been difficult to acknowledge at first how well Millie was doing in her absence. A love-match marriage, the transformation of Ravensfield... as if Lillian wasn't really needed from the outset, after all. Although these negative contemplations made her chastise herself, she couldn't help but wonder if she truly had a role left to play in this realm, or was she merely being humoured because of her return? Yet what alternative was there? To somehow return and resume her life in another realm? Lillian would never return to the Otherworld, not if she was given the opportunity, not if she was commanded by the Lord himself.

But Ravensfield was ultimately Lillian's responsibility and her burden to bear, even if her little sister didn't need her anymore. It was a responsibility she would welcome if the responsibility of a marriage didn't come with it. Again, the notion filled her with aversion. At seven and twenty, Lillian never had imagined that she would need to tie herself to a man in order to fulfil a role that her father had been grooming her for since she was a girl. Even before she left this realm, she had not believed marriage to be something in her future. Her encounters with the opposite sex had been infrequent as more often than not she had strayed to the fringes of ballrooms with her father, making pleasantries and sealing alliances with their peers, or chaperoning Millie. She had never felt the stirrings of infatuation, never felt the fire of attraction, though in the Otherworld such things were blatant in their presentation- so she was not unfamiliar with open displays of affection, either.

"How easy," she murmured aloud to herself, directing her words at the profile atop her knees, "it is for you to fly away from all this."

The caricature merely grinned slyly in response. Lillian could well envision the wicked, sardonic tilt of Aëghan's lips in lieu of the depiction, an unwilling tremor of anticipation unfolding through her abdomen as she did.

It grated her nerves that the first time she found another desirable he would be wholly... wrong for her. From what she had been told, to what she derived in their brief encounters.

But even though she lamented the wayward pull of her ardency, she couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to simply be like him, to cave to every whim and desire, to soar into the air and fly far, far away from everything that was bothersome... to succumb to a forbidden romance despite the repercussions?

Briefly, Lillian would endure those fantasies for what they were: her own imaginings contrived from the ashes of her tumult. Vowing to never act upon them, she located the shortened pencil that accompanied her tablet and tapped its edge against the vellum. She held every intention to mark the page with a bold X, but she hesitated.

Instead, she wrote a short phrase, something prevalent in her deepest, unmentionable fantasies that were beginning to involve a darkly handsome and wicked Dravolese male, knowing that the words would not transfer via the enchantment, knowing that they were merely for her and no one else.

Take me away.