Chapter 11: Temptation

"He really doesn't like these parties, does he?" Emrys asks, popping another grape into his mouth.

Aesind sighs and sets his cheek in his palm. His gaze is directed toward the patio far below where dozens of godkin mill about. A lone pianist plays a soft melody at the far corner on the grand piano that's usually in the ground floor study. Tables with food and drink have been established, but they seem almost like a second thought or a formality. Aside from a sipped glass of wine here and there, they haven't seen a single person eat a single thing.

They've been watching for a little over an hour from the sheltered balcony of a sitting room not far from Emrys's bedroom. They brought a bottle of whiskey for Emrys, sweet red wine for Aesind, and a large platter culled from the party offerings to share. Leaning up against the solid wooden banister, they have the perfect view of the crowd below.

The guests started arriving earlier this afternoon one by one. They filtered into the garden and each set about scrutinizing the greenery, the food, the staff, their host, and everything else they could set sharp eyes on. And now, they're all chatting and laughing like they're friends as the sun gleams down from high above. It's a good act. Sure, some of them are truly friendly with each other, but parties like this aren't really for innocent socializing. All of them are dressed in noble finery -- common, almost casual clothes for them to enjoy a simple garden party, though the jewelry off any single person down there could pay a town's ransom, by Emrys's measure.

"He'd like them more if it wasn't so abjectly political," Aesind mutters into his glass of red wine so sweet it may as well be juice. It's stained the creases in his lips with a ruddy blush that Emrys wants to taste despite disliking wine.

Emrys is familiar enough with political soirees. His mother's position -- and his own, by extension -- demand attendance at a handful of functions every year. Their family hosts one dinner for important clan members once in the spring and a party for the town in autumn. So he gets it, he does. But even the clan dinner, stuffy and formal as it is, often breaks down into friendly late-night drinking in front of the fireplace while Emrys's many cousins run amok in the house and yard.

As far as Emrys can tell, Archimedes doesn't like a single person down there. He's treated everyone respectfully, shaking hands and greeting each person without prejudice, but not one guest has been graced with a smile.

Emrys gestures with another grape. "I still don't understand why he had to host this in the first place. Why couldn't they have done this elsewhere? Or with guests he actually enjoys being around?"

"There are costs to living in polite society," Aesind says sourly, sarcasm biting sharply around the word polite as though it pains him to say it. His glass clinks on the wide stone railing. "Enduring hosting duties is amongst them. Being gracious about it is another. I'm not allowed down there for a reason."

"No humans allowed?"

"I'm a fucking asshole, Emrys."

Emrys grins. "I like that about you."

"Yeah, well," Aesind says, rolling his eyes but smiling, "they don't. I could go down and be part of it as Archimedes's mate, but I don't have to for this one. And I really shouldn't. Besides, look at them." He gestures to the garden below them. "Not a single person who isn't godkin."

"Sharks in the water," Emrys says with a nod.

Archimedes is afloat for the moment. He's an expert in the art of deflecting, Emrys notices. They can't understand the conversations from up here, but body language speaks volumes. He remains polite, spine straight and confident, but he seems to say little. Mostly, he listens and nods along to the conversations happening around him. Every so often, Archimedes can be caught staring off into the distance with a blank expression. It's difficult to tell if he's actually paying attention or not.

Now, Archimedes breaks off from the cluster of godkin he's been talking to -- or enduring for the moment -- and wanders to one of the neglected tables of food. He observes the plates for a second, and then, with a subtle glance around the garden to be sure he's not being watched, his eyes lift to the manor.

Even from afar, his little smile is visible as he finds Emrys and Aesind sitting together. Aesind blows him an ostentatious kiss, and Emrys is suddenly, terribly tempted to do the same thing. The urge doubles when Archimedes's lips press together as though suppressing a laugh.

Archimedes plucks a grape from the table and gestures with it. Grinning, Aesind takes one up also and motions for Emrys to do the same. Like children sharing a secret, they toast with their grapes.

It's the sweetest one Emrys has eaten so far.

Immediately after, someone calls Archimedes's name loud enough for it to be crystal clear in the balcony, and his expression closes down once again into the blank, polite mask he wears for these people. The woman who saunters up to him casts a glance to the balcony where Emrys and Aesind sit, but she doesn't spare a second one. She turns glittering eyes and false smiles back to Archimedes.

They exchange just a few words. Whatever she says, it makes the hostly veneer around Archimedes crack, and a bubble of silence ripples out from where they stand. She keeps right on talking, apparently not caring about the tension becoming so thick it's palpable all the way up on the balcony.

"Oh, shit," Aesind says, leaning precariously over the edge.

"What, what?" Emrys asks. He sets a hand on Aesind's elbow as the man leans even further over the banister to get a good look at the godkin below.

Instead of answering, Aesind whips around and rushes back into the sitting room like a whirlwind. Emrys follows as far as the glass door, watching as Aesind yanks the door on the far wall open and speaks rapidly to whichever staff member is directly outside. With a short bow, they rush off, and Aesind returns to Emrys at the balcony door.

"What?" Emrys asks again, moving so Aesind can return to the banister.

"Lady Adelaide of the Roaring Falls. She's got a penchant for making trouble on purpose." He frowns down at the crowd. "I'm giving him an escape route."

Thirty seconds later, a well-dressed servant rushes across the terrace toward Archimedes. They hand him a slip of paper, which he reads briefly with an unreadable look. He nods, and, with hardly a word, marches back into the manor.

"He can go, just like that?"

"He is the host," Aesind says with a tight smile. "He has to follow the rules, but everyone knows he's been working on the ghoul problem nonstop for months now. A secret, urgent note delivered by a rushing servant is just vague enough to give him an excuse to leave for however long he likes without explaining himself."

Emrys nods slowly. He directs his attention to the party below, still going on despite its host's sudden absence. A few guests glance toward the manor, but none raise their eyes high enough to see the onlookers above. They duck their heads together, whispering unsubtly to each other and even going so far as to point toward the manor.

Despite their distraction, Emrys edges away from plain sight. Archimedes might've been given an out, but these types of people always find ways to gossip about everything. The last thing they need is to speculate on Emrys's role in his disappearance.

Minutes later, the door to the sitting room opens and shuts. Aesind flits back inside, immediately enveloping Archimedes in a tight embrace. The godkin bends to bury his face in Aesind's narrow shoulder. They sway together in a beam of fading sunlight for several long moments as though they're the only two people in the world.

It makes Emrys's chest ache fiercely. He moves so that the curtains around the glass balcony door obscures them from his view, forcing himself to look outwards and up to the darkening sky.

Longing for what he can't have will only result in misery. Aesind is his new friend, and Archimedes is his gracious host. It doesn't matter that they're intelligent and beautiful or that they accepted Emrys into their most trusted inner circle without hesitation. They belong to each other.

When they choose their third partner, their final mate, it will be someone of status.

Someone worthy.

Still, he could offer his services as a distraction for the moment. That would be fine. Friends comfort, offer support, and vent to each other. A casual conversation is just what he needs to banish improper imaginings from his mind. Archimedes could certainly use a touch of humor, too. Emrys can't know what that woman said to the godkin, but whatever it was, a short reprieve will surely go a long way.

Emrys dares to peek over his shoulder and finds himself staring, open-mouthed, at what he finds.

Aesind has his back to Emrys still, one arm wrapped around Archimedes's shoulders and the other hand resting on his chest. Archimedes holds Aesind by waist and the side of his neck to tip him to the side and back for a slow, devouring kiss. Their eyes are shut as their mouths move, gliding together and apart in a sensual display. It's familiar, as though they've shared a thousand kisses like this one and expect to share a thousand more before the year is out.

The ache in Emrys's chest blooms into sharp yearning. To love and to be loved like this...

A flash of pink darts between their enmeshed lips, and Aesind sinks further into Archimedes with a soft moan. Shameful heat rushes through Emrys, swirling dangerously southward.

That's what he sounds like for just a bit of kissing? The swipe of a tongue, the touch of a hand -- he's so sensitive.

Archimedes eats it up, gripping harder at Aesind's waist to pull him closer, flush together. His fingers wind into the loosened base of Aesind's braid. Aesind captures Archimedes's bottom lip between his teeth, and Archimedes's eyelids flutter with a breathy sound that has Emrys breathing hard through his nose, willing his body to stay calm and still.

The urge to situate himself between them, to taste them on each other's lips and tongues, to touch and hold -- it's unbearable. Emrys has to leave.

But his only exit is at the far wall. He'd have to pass them to get to it. Unless he decides to leap off the balcony, he's trapped for now, cursed to stand here and watch them for as long as it takes for them to part or notice him.

He ought to look away. He ought to stop watching them trading smiles and kisses and soft sounds.

Surely the party below is still going on. Surely there's something to hold his attention elsewhere.

Oh, gods, but what if they start to undress each other? What if they sink onto one of the couches inside, just out of Emrys's sight, and extract more of those impossible sounds from each other, moans and sighs and cries of pleasure? Would he really be able to stand here and listen without giving in?

Suddenly, Emrys becomes aware of gray eyes on him with a start, stomach dropping as though stepping into the abyss. Surprise flits across Archimedes's pink-dusted features, followed by a series of unreadable changes that settle into his customary seriousness. Aesind, expecting a kiss and not receiving one, makes a confused sound. He turns, and Emrys gets to behold the lovely flush over his cheeks which darkens as he realizes that Emrys was watching.

"I -- I'm so sorry," Emrys chokes out once his tongue will cooperate. He staggers into the room, skirting around the couple and heading for the door. "I didn't mean..."

"Emrys, it's alright," Aesind says, extracting himself from Archimedes's hold. "You don't have to leave. It's my fault, I got carried away."

"No, I shouldn't have..." The kiss replays in his mind again, vivid and visceral. He can see the shine of moisture on Archimedes's lips, hear the quiet, breathless pants from Aesind's.

He's so close.

His toe catches on the foot of the couch, and he stumbles the rest of the way to the door. Cursing, he fumbles for the knob. "I'll let you -- I'll rejoin you for dinner. Apologies. Excuse me."

"Emrys."

Archimedes's calm voice freezes Emrys's hand as it lands on the doorknob. Emrys swallows and doesn't turn around.

"Stay."

Emrys shakes his head. Resisting every part of himself that screams to stay and be with them, Emrys yanks open the door and goes through. He isn't sure where he'll go, but anywhere is better than here.

Gods know what he'll do if he stays.