Disclaimer: I do not own the Tairen Soul Series by C.L. Wilson. However, I do own Angela.
I chose Cyr because I was struck in the books how minor he is. For example, he dies without a sound when he is attacked. It bothered me. Sian and Torel were best friends and blade brothers until the very end. Adrial had Talisa―and Rowan fought for them both. Both death scenes made me cry and I was determined to have them in my stories with a future.
So, the idea of Cyr as my protagonist happened because I felt he represented the vast majority of unloved, forgotten and sacrificed Fey warriors. This is my homage to Fey warriors like Cyr :-).
Every few chapters I am going to correct minor edits. There will be some additions to sentence structure/description. Yes, the ash will be fleshed out. It is integral to the story :-).
P.S. There is no such thing as Sunset roses. In LotFL, Lauriana Baristani wanted Ellie to pick between Sweet Kaidra (white roses), Maiden's Blush (pink roses) and Gentle Dawn (yellow roses) for her wedding. I never saw red roses listed anywhere (totally feel free to correct me on Feyan misspellings or typos, etc. I made up Sunset roses to match Gentle Dawn. Also, I realized it is 'Elvian' not 'Elvish' and 'All Souls' Eve' not 'All Saints' Eve' in the Tairen Soul Series).
Ch. VI Dinner
Angela immediately sat down on the cushioned seat beside the vanity. Cyr chuckled.
She raised an eyebrow at him.
"I beg your pardon my good sir," Angela said her expression mock-serious. "But it's not everyday one hears of anyone being so elderly at such a young age."
Cyr raised his eyebrows at Angela's good humor and decided to encourage it.
"Well, my lady." Cyr said echoing her. "We do endeavor never to be dull."
Angela giggled before grimacing. Her stomach clenching and her head pounded.
Cyr immediately placed a hand on her forehead while refilling her cup with faerilas and pressing it to her lips.
Angela gulped it down. She prayed she would not embarrass herself anymore by crying again.
"Shei'tani," Cyr said gently, "are you sure you want to go tonight?"
She nodded. She was sick of being an invalid.
Cyr looked at her for a long moment. "We will go, shei'tani…" He said slowly. "On the condition that if you're feeling worse we're leaving." Serious amber eyes pored into her and she nodded.
Generally speaking, Angela did not argue unless it is very important to her. She sensed his genuine concern for her...and she did not want to disappoint him for some reason. Furthermore, she did not want to embarrass herself at the dinner should she feel unwell.
Satisfied, he nodded. "We have around 15 chimes before we need to arrive." He placed her refilled cup from the vat beside the vanity. "I'll be right back."
Cyr decided to wear light brown attire to match Angela's navy ensemble. Truth be told, they would be underdressed. However, his shei'tani's comfort is everything to Cyr―considering her condition.
Angela sipped her faerilas…settling her stomach. She stood slowly and remade their bed and replaced the items on the vanity.
She studied their suite of rooms. It is Elvian in design. Its forest mural reminding Angela of her favorite spots in Norban's Greatwood Forest. She smiled and dreamt of a beautiful gown to match the room. She felt calmer as she looked at the floral and ivy tendrils following the bedroom. She slowly walked behind the vanity to gaze out the balcony window.
Angela gasped softly. "Oh," she said wondrously.
Outside is a beautiful garden created by Earth masters and Fey gardeners throughout the centuries.
Cyr stood behind his shei'tani, noting the orderliness and her expression.
"Perhaps, we will take a stroll outside if you would like?" Cyr asked.
Angela turned to him with bright eyes. "Can we?" She asked somewhat breathlessly. He frowned at her. "Why wouldn't we, shei'tani?"
"Well, it's not ours." Angela said somewhat defensively. She knew her place in Norban and Celieria City. Here, she did not know her place.
Ah, Cyr thought. I should've known how territorial mortals are.
"The gardens are open to the public." He said quickly. Angela's lips were no longer thinned. "I'm sorry," she said ashamed of herself.
Cyr began to say something...then thought better of it.
"We should go, shei'tani." He said. He held his hand toward her and placed her smaller hand atop his wrist. She looked at him in confusion.
"This is the Fey way." Cyr explained. "If we are in danger then I would lose time to defend you." He showed her his fey'cha in his hand before quickly putting it away.
Angela looked at him impressed. "You move so fast." Angela murmured, blushing to her ears.
Cyr beamed. He replaced her smaller hand where it was and headed toward the door. Unlocking it, he placed Angela slightly behind him as he scanned.
The young couple walked down a corridor and Angela began to cough ash.
Scowling, Angela turned from him. She took a deep, shuddering breath and sighed.
Cyr stood beside her worriedly. Lady Marissya and her entourage appeared in their finery. Angela's face reddened.
Oh you pacheeta. She internally swore. This is a fine dinner. And look what you're wearing!
"Ajiana?" Marrisya asked, concerned. Angela turned from her and coughed more ash.
"We decided it would be best to eat outside for Angela's lungs." Cyr said smoothly. "And would like to postpone another time to share a meal with the Feyreisen and Feyreisa."
Angela could have kissed him.
Cyr's Air weaves removed the sel'dor ash from her clothing. Angela took a slow breath and placed her hand on Cyr's wrist as if she had not been coughing.
Marissya nodded. "Yes, I think that would be best." Her compassionate eyes surveyed the young couple. "I will relay this to them." Cyr bowed and Angela wanted to curtsey; but Cyr quickly straightened. Angela nodded. Her cheeks pale as they left. Angela noted their clothing and inwardly sighed.
She could make a similar design...but not nearly as fine.
Cyr led them outside under a gazebo for Angela to sit.
"Wait here, shei'tani." He said, kissing her hand. He placed Air weaves near her nose and mouth and Angela breathed easier.
He quickly made his way toward the kitchens and snagged a basket placing whatever he could that would not impugn the royal dinner. Marissya had told the kitchen staff to avail themselves to Cyr due to Angela's illness.
Returning, the young Fey warrior saw his shei'tani. His eyes narrowed seeing Ravel vel Arras speak to her. Vel Arras may be his commanding officer...but there are limits.
Ravel saw a shivering Angela as she breathed slowly of Cyr's Air weaves. The Air weaves are naturally cold and she purposefully stayed in the sunlight.
"Kem'falla?" Ravel inquired. Angela turned and smiled at him. "Ravel!" She greeted, instantly brightening. Oblivious to Cyr's growing jealousy and ire.
Ravel smiled back. "It is good to see you again, kem'falla."
"How―how are you?" Angela asked, straightening to allow her lungs to expand.
"Well, kem'falla." Ravel answered. He immediately wove a small Fire weave around Angela, who smiled thankfully in return.
Ravel sensed Cyr's soft approach. He inclined his head respectfully in Cyr's direction. He could sense Cyr's jealousy. But, Cyr is well-known to be unerringly polite. Cyr returned the inclination and Ravel made his leave.
Angela frowned at Cyr curiously.
Her stomach rumbled as Cyr made their dinner on white-and-gold fine dinner plates and Angela gasped at the beauty and the workmanship, blushing furiously.
Cyr smiled at her. "I figured we should have some finery even if we are not making the dinner with everyone else."
Angela gulped. "Th―thank you." She whispered. Cyr made her a plate and made sure they had a fire to cook over their meal to warm it. Angela ate her steak plate and vegetables in silence, savoring the juicy flavors. She never had it so good before.
Cyr discreetly put more food in front of Angela as she ate with her eyes closed. She savored the flavors and felt...at peace.
She kept eating and before she knew it she is full. Cyr made certain his plate is empty as well and smiled benignly at her as she looked around them realizing their meal was fully eaten.
Angela beamed. "That was wonderful!" She exclaimed. Cyr's smile deepened. His amber eyes alight.
Angela sensed a few emotions rolling off him indicating his peace, delight and pride. She tilted her head at him in mild curiosity.
"Would you like to see the rest of the gardens?" Cyr asked.
Angela stood by way of answer and gathered her plate carefully. Cyr followed suit and together they refilled the picnic basket. They did not want to abuse the privilege of staying there. Cyr carried the picnic basket in one hand while he showed his other wrist for Angela to take.
He watched her carefully from the corner of his eye. She felt frail; but determined. Her hopeful eyes and joyful expression as she looked at the gardens. She asked him several questions about the different types of flowers and what Feyan agricultural practices were.
Cyr felt indebted to his gepa, an Earth master, for teaching him intermediary gardening from his days on his parents' estate. He was learning much about his shei'tani.
She's endearing. Cyr thought fondly.
Angela turned to look at a topiary and Cyr looked at her, mesmerized. Her russet curls became fiery in the sunset. Her navy blue dress contrasting with her hair and her straight back emphasized her narrow waist. Her profile picturesque.
The young woman hesitated. She wanted to continue exploring but decided against it. She felt like she owed Cyr. She said they would leave when she started to feel weak.
She turned to look at Cyr for a moment. The sunset was upon them and she noted how the light shone on Cyr. It highlighted his handsome features by turning his dirty blond hair lighter and showcased the richness of his amber eyes.
She gulped. Blushing lightly she said softly, "I think I should go in now."
Obligingly, Cyr held his wrist toward her. He noted her willingness to leave despite wanting to stay.
She's breathing easier. Cyr thought relieved. I'll make sure we do this more often.
"We can always come back, shei'tani." He said.
Angela beamed up at him. Her dimples making another appearance. Cyr decided he would try to make them appear more often.
Or at least once daily.
Leading them inside, Cyr saw how Angela's eyes widen at the Fey Amaranth flower displayed in Feyan art. He felt her curiosity and she turned to ask.
"Angela?" a masculine voice said from behind her. The couple turned toward Master Sol Baristani, the Feyreisa's father.
"Why it is you!" Sol said happily. His spectacles slipping. Angela stared at him uncomprehendingly.
"Oh this," Sol said with a self-conscious laugh. "My daughter Ellie," he said gesturing toward his new hair that Angela could have sworn was a toupee.
"Master Baristani," Angela greeted sincerely. Angela released her hold on Cyr's. The Fey warrior feel bereft of her presence before quickly quashing his feelings as Angela subconsciously turned her head toward him.
"It is so good to see you again, my dear." Sol continued. "Are you a full-fledged seamstress?"
Angela shook her head, her grey eyes saddening. "No sir." She murmured, looking down. Sol took her hands and frowned, glancing at Cyr indicating he wanted the young man to speak with him later. Cyr nodded behind Angela's back.
"No matter, my dear." Sol said good-naturedly. "Those dresses you made my girls were very fine. Did I tell you they wore them to Ellie's All Souls' Eve pageant? All my girls looked so beautiful―Lorelle even wanted to wear it to bed! Quite a feat for that one."
Angela shook her head, her smile slowly returning. "I'm very glad those dresses pleased you and yours, Master Baristani." Her breathing labored.
"If you will excuse us, Master Baristani." Cyr interjected. "Angela needs her rest."
"Of course, of course." Sol said, surveying Angela for a moment longer, before releasing her hands. Angela did everything she could not to sway as she walked with Cyr with her head held high.
Once they entered their suite, Angela immediately sat down by the vanity, winded and gulped faerilas from her goblet left on the vanity table.
She winced, her hand going to her chest as she began to cough more sel'dor ash. Cyr quickly set down the picnic basket. He grabbed her ruby red cloak he made for her and placed it about her shoulders. Using his Air weaves he removed the ash from her bodice. He knelt beside her.
"Angela," he said once she stopped coughing. His amber eyes worried. "Allow me...teska."
Angela swallowed, watching him. Cyr raised his hand. Thin, powerful Air weaves slowly entered Angela's mouth and nostrils. Her grey eyes concentrated on his face.
He used his Fey vision to see using Spirit and Air to enter her lungs. All Fey warriors received rudimentary medical training which allowed him to pursue this venture with confidence.
Gently, Cyr extracted more ash from her laboring lungs. He wove with great care, attuning himself to her comfort levels and adjusting the length and the force of the weave as needed.
After several chimes, Cyr removed the last traces he could see.
Angela breathed easier.
«Be―beylah vo, Cyr.» She said, clasping her hand on his. Cyr smiled faintly at her. Finally, he thought. my Air mastery is of use to kem'shei'tani.
She turned from him, a little surprised by his intense gaze. She slowly unpinned her hair. Angela placed her opulent blue hair comb in her music box with great care and admiration. Her fingertips brushing the carvings absently.
Cyr watched for a moment. His chest swelling from pride at both her returned health due to his efforts and her attention toward his gifts.
Standing, he readied their room for her usage. He made certain they had clean towels in the en suite. He ran his hand through his hair after a moment, somewhat agitated.
Angela frowned slightly. She wanted to do something nice for Cyr. Sighing, she closed her eyes. Her mind unintentionally reaching for his.
Surprised, Cyr actually entered their bedroom. "Did you need me, shei'tani?" He asked as he stood behind her. Eyes searching hers in the mirror. His hand settling on her shoulder.
Angela took his hand from her shoulder. Her eyes still meeting his in the mirror as she slowly guided him to take her seat.
Complying and confused, Cyr switched with Angela and she stood behind him. Her hand on his shoulder while he still retained possession.
Angela took the sterling silver leaf brush from the silver filigree vanity tray. She began brushing his hair. She gently extracted her hand from his as she set about her task.
Cyr's eyes were glowing slowly brighter as she continued. Her gaze on his hair and not the mirror. She unbraided and brushed his hair. Her soft hands caressing his scalp and he felt peaceful.
Angela always felt better when her hands worked. After a few chimes she set the brush down. Silently, Cyr held her hand, guiding it to his lips. Her eyes jumped, meeting his in the mirror. He kissed her hand gently.
Angela gave him a shaky, shy smile. After a moment, she removed her hand from his and grabbed her nightgown and robe as she walked slowly toward the en suite, before pausing to look over her shoulder. Her blush very apparent as she glanced at the bathing pool.
«Could you help me? I―I need help with the ties...»
Hiding his grin, Cyr stood and as she turned from him. He slowly unwove her ties. His fingertips brushing her skin, making her shiver.
The intimacy beautiful in the mundane tasks between them.
Cyr did smile as her blush continued to her ears and down and around her neck. Pleased, she is affected by his presence. He also enjoyed their telepathy.
Slowly my skittish doe begins to trust me. He thought calmly, he would definitely thank his mela at the first available opportunity.
Finished, Angela put one hand at the neck while the other remained at the small of her back to clamp her dress to her. Moving around Angela, Cyr ran hot water for her bath.
Angela stared at the bathing pool.
"Oh," she whispered, surprised.
Cyr turned to her. One eyebrow raised. "What is it, shei'tani?" Angela blushed. "Well, I never noticed how big this bathing pool is." She muttered.
Indeed, what she thought was a four-foot deep pool was actually the shallow side. At its deepest, the bathing pool is seven feet. The forest mural continued in the en suite. The soft green-and-silver ivy trellis mixed with ocean blue tiles.
Cyr bit his lip to keep from laughing at her innocent expression. He decided now would be a good time to make himself scarce.
"The water is at the right temperature, I should think." Cyr commented, taking Angela from her marveling. She walked slowly to the side with a staircase. Cyr chastely kissed her forehead and exited. Angela did not dare glance behind her. Cyr did. Noticing her nearly bare back was an enticing image and softly closed the door.
He put a privacy weave around himself and laughed.
Angela could sense his mirth and put her nose in the air. She chose to ignore him. She knew he must be laughing at her...but she is unsure as to why what she said was so funny.
She allowed her dress to slip and she wrapped it haphazardly beside the towel and her nightclothes. She stepped into the hot water and sighed in delight. She continued walking until she was completely submerged underwater, standing lightly on the ocean tiles. She looked above her, seeing the large lantern with multiple, smaller lanterns. She was unsure as to what it is called and would ask Cyr.
Was I really too tired to notice all these details? She wondered, rolling her eyes. She moved toward the shallow end as her breath began to burn in her lungs.
Emerging, her russet curls straight from the water, floated about her. She took a guess at which bottles were the shampoo and conditioner and lathered the lavender soap about her, enjoying the deep bath.
You could fit two people in here. She thought, and immediately clamped her eyes shut and had her face partially submerged as if to keep from blushing. Maybe that's why Cyr was laughing at me! She thought, embarrassed. She let out a breath. Just ignore everything and enjoy the bath. She chided determinedly.
Cyr listened to Angela's splish-splash movements. Frowning at her changing mood he almost walked to the door.
Let her be, Fey. He thought. He took out his pyjamas and looked at his neatly brushed hair and smiled. He barely recognized himself in the vanity's mirror.
For once, Serious Cyr is not-so-serious.
Shaking his head, he pulled the sheets from their bed, lost in his thoughts.
Eventually, Angela dried off and put her nightclothes on. She began to towel-dry her wet hair. She took her navy dress in one hand and nearly knocked into the door. Her vision obscured by her towel.
You're definitely tired. She thought, rolling her eyes.
Cyr pulled a chair in front of the fire for Angela and tended to it as she approached him.
He guided her to the chair. It would be so easy for him to offer her an Air weave. However, his gift is too cold for her.
He left her to it and snagged his nightclothes and towel as Angela thought about her―no their―day.
Cyr took a small, round stone and allowed it to dissolve in the bathwater. It acted like faerilas and purified the water so he would not waste it. The Fey reused water to treat their gardens.
He sank in the hot water and relaxed.
After a while, he stood before it became too cold and did not bother with a towel since he preferred an Air weave. Besides, Angela needed the towels more than he did. He lifted the bath water and led it outside the window, purifying it again with the dissolving stone. He placed it over the Sunset roses outside their bathing window.
Angela was where he last saw her. He thought she is too close to the fire and pulled her away. She looked at him surprised and smiled. Her coloring still pale but not sickly. He wove an Air weave heating it by the fire and dried her hair. She laughed.
"Handy that." She commented. He nodded. He glanced at the clock. It was fast becoming late.
"Shall we rest, shei'tani?" Angela's face became the reddest he had ever seen it.
It took all of his discipline not to laugh.
He took her hand and led her to their bed. The intimacy weighing heavily on Angela.
We aren't wed! Angela thought panicked. Her heart rate sped.
For some reason―Angela supposed due to her illness and traveling―it never occurred to her she would be sleeping. Alone. With a man. Alone. Without chaperones. Nothing. Just two adults. Although, Angela did not consider herself an adult in many ways.
Cyr took pity on Angela. Truth be told, her naïveté became that much more endearing.
He wanted to embrace her and kiss her for it.
It also humbled him and he felt determined not to take advantage of her in any way. Mindful of what he vowed to Lady Marissya he decided to keep it simple. So he would not break it in―what he hoped to be―the near future.
"Angela," he said her name in liquid Fey tones. "I give you a vow, kem'shei'tani ajiana, you are safe in my care." His eyes glowed. That was as far as his vow needed to be. "We will sleep." He added. "Nothing more."
Angela swallowed hard. "You promise?" She checked. Her grey eyes too large in her heart-shaped face.
Cyr felt a slight twinge of annoyance. Patience. He thought. She is mortal and used to all kinds of lies. She does not understand the Fey way.
But she will.
"Aiyah, Angela." He said solemnly. "I do so promise."
Angela searched his face and relaxed, nodding.
She practically melted in the bed. The bed was luxurious. The coverlet matched the room and the sheets were cream-colored silk cotton.
Cyr pulled Angela close to him, his heartbeat strong and steady. Alive. Angela closed her eyes, feeling the safest she had in a long time as her eyes closed. Exhausted from the day.
The Fey warrior spoke to her in Feyan of promises to come between them as he complimented her on her beauty. Cyr reveled holding her close to him.
Angela slept peacefully and nestled into him. Acting as a trusting shei'tani in her sleep when she did not―could not―awake.
