Page 126 of A Crown of Lies

Aryn almost smiled to himself.You’ll have to beat her over the head with compliments,he thought at Saya.Or just corner her and take what you want.She always did like to be handled roughly.

He felt eyes on him and turned his head to find Niro staring at him from beneath hooded eyes. Normally, it made Aryn uncomfortable to have people looking at him so intensely. It made the back of his neck itch. But when Niro did it, it made him feel like a rooster on display. His body reacted on automatic, shoulders going back, chest out, stomach in… Not that he had much of that to begin with. Aryn had always been built small and lean, and his Shikami training had only fostered that, even if he had gotten lazy the last few months.

Aryn wondered how it might go, and not for the first time, if he let Niro have what he wanted. Omashii-Kuno had always counseled him on which role to take whenever she sent him to seduce male targets, and he truly did not know if he had a preference. He’d never been allowed the chance to learn it if he did. The prospect of doing so with Niro left the butterfly wings of desire and excitement fluttering low in his stomach.

“Do you like art?” Niro asked him suddenly. When the women ceased their conversation, his eyes darted to them and back to Aryn before he offered a small smile. “I may not be much on the obata, but I do have an extensive collection of rare art if you’d like to see.”

“I’d love to,” Aryn blurted, and then remembered Mercia. He turned his head. “If you think you’ll be okay here?”

Mercia flashed him a knowing smile and waved him off. “Go on. Don’t let me keep you.”

Niro downed the last of his drink, leaned across the table to plant a kiss on Saya’s cheek, and then they left the room together. For a while, they just strolled casually along the wooden walkway that ran alongside the innermost courtyard. The sky above was clear and dotted with silver stars. The weather was pleasant, and the air smelled faintly of cherry blossoms.

“Does it disturb you to know that we are half siblings?” Niro asked.

Aryn stiffened and lowered his gaze from the sky, scanning the walls for any sign someone might be listening in.

“The inner courtyard is mostly empty rooms, if I’m being honest,” Niro said with a small smile. “At least this section is. I have cousins who live across the way there, but not here. We’re safe to speak openly.”

Aryn took a few steps, considering his answer. “No,” he said. “You don’t share any blood, except distantly, and you weren’t raised together. You wouldn’t be the first elf in history to have wed a sibling either. People forget that it wasn’t uncommon at the height of the monarchy.”

“I suspect that is why there would be significant objections. Our people do not like to be reminded of the ashes they rose from only a generation ago.”

Aryn nodded. “That much is true.”

“Saya is no more my sister than you might be my brother, but that wouldn’t stop the talk should the truth come out,” he said and pushed open the doors on a narrow entry way.

Niro pressed a hand to a small globe on the wall and a series of lights woke above, illuminating a large, two-story room. The bottom floor was a library with bookshelves lining every wall. Mercia would have loved it.

Niro guided him past the stacks of books, however, and to a narrow winding stair that led to the top level. “Despite all the progress we’ve made as a society in recent years, we can be terribly conservative when it comes to certain matters. It will always be easier to talk about war and death for our people than matters of pleasure and desire.”

He pulled back the curtain at the top of the stairs and stood aside as Aryn stepped forward.

When Niro had said he had a collection of paintings, Aryn had expected landscapes, or portraits, perhaps pictures of fruit in decorative bowls. Instead, the artwork that lined the walls in Niro’s gallery was of a far more titillating nature. They were paintings from the classical period, hundreds of years ago, in a style that had long ago fallen out of fashion. The images depicted pairs of same-sex partners, or sometimes larger groups of them engaged in some form of sex, fetish play, or bondage. The art was erotic, but also beautiful, with settings like flowering gardens, mountainside glens, or tide pools.

Aryn stepped up to one that depicted two male elves in brightly colored masks, surrounded by flowers the color of fire. The sky was an impossible shade of blue, the flowers blazing bright. Yet it was the elves that drew him in, especially the one on the top. Both were clearly depicted as male, and yet this elf had a mixture of other markings that should have gone on female characters at the time. Perhaps that would have made sense if he were fulfilling the bottom role, but he wasn’t. He’d never seen a more perfect mix of masculine and feminine features and never seen it painted in a positive light. Sometimes, such characters were the butt of a joke, but not here. The way it was done, with the light at his back and the bright yellow sun behind his head, he’d been painted almost like a god.

“So We May See the Sun Together,” Niro supplied, meaning the title. “The subjects are unknown, but it’s a certified Sanada Stoneriver original. There aren’t many left. Geraka Phoenixfall had most of them burned and Sanada executed for corruption and indecency. The ones that remain have all survived by being hidden away in dark galleries such as this. Ironic, given the title.”

“It’s beautiful,” Aryn said, half in awe. “Katyr would love this place. He’s an artist, too. Not quite this good, but he could get there.”

“Some would say all warriors are artists of a sort.” Niro closed the distance, standing next to Aryn. They were so close that their shoulders were nearly touching as they looked up at the painting. “I’ve shown this collection to very few people. Of all the scandalous bits and pieces in the world that could break me, this is the one I fear most. Not because I’m ashamed of this collection, but because I think it would hurt the worst. The first time I saw one of these paintings, I saw myself. I let myself imagine a world without being ashamed of the things I wanted, where it is not frowned upon to seek pleasure in any of its forms, with whomever we choose.”

Aryn turned his head and found Niro looking at him. He frowned. “Why me? Is it just a passing fancy? Am I just some unattainable conquest for you? Or is there something more to it?”

“A fair question,” Niro said, lowering his head. “But I think you are another mirror. I see myself in you, or some version of me that might have been if I had allowed it.”

Aryn snorted. “You just want to fuck yourself.”

They stared at each other a moment, but it was Niro that broke out into laughter first and Aryn followed, laughing so hard he was nearly gasping for breath at the end of it. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed like that. Ages ago, another life, it seemed.

But then Niro was gently brushing some of his hair behind his ear and he was sinking into Niro’s eyes, losing his breath all over again. Niro leaned in, but stopped short of letting their lips touch. He looked at Aryn, waiting, giving him a chance to object.

I shouldn’t, Aryn thought.Ruith will kill me.But Ruith wasn’t there. He didn’t understand what it was like to be in Aryn’s body, have Aryn’s mind, his needs.

So Aryn closed his eyes and leaned forward, pressing his lips to Niro’s. Just a quick kiss, but it had all the potential to shatter the delicate balance of power in D’thallanar.

“I don’t know what this connection is,” Niro said when they parted, drawing his thumbs over Aryn’s cheeks, “or how deep it goes, but there is something here that cannot, will not, be denied. I can’t promise you love. I can’t promise anything. But I want to explore this with you… If you’re willing.”

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