In Fine Form: Chronicles of Ylandre, #6

By Eressë Belley

Guile is an asset in foreign relations, but an affliction when it comes to affairs of the heart.

 

A bastard of unknown parentage, Yandro Vaidon was born saddled with a huge disadvantage. The nigh rigid class structure of the dual-gendered realm of Ylandre relegated him to the bottom rungs of the social ladder and promised a dim future. Worse, the endeavor to win respectability was arduous. Most claimed it was impossible. But by dint of hard work, perseverance and instances of plain good luck, Yandro rises higher than even he had hoped. However, he quickly learns there are hurdles to overcome even at these heights. Not least is his inconvenient attraction to a colleague deemed way beyond his reach.

 

Scion of House Essendri, the reigning dynasty of Ylandre, Jareth Hadrana is gifted with more than his fair share of beauty and wit. The kingdom's preeminent ambassador, he has surpassed what is usually expected of a fief-lord's second son. But while his high birth and family wealth opened doors for him, Jareth's success stemmed from his own efforts to make something of himself other than the idle fop or swaggering rakehell that was the lot of many younger sons.

 

A coincidence of interest drew Jareth and Yandro to the same profession, but a king's intervention throws them together in an association that soon turns into mutual desire. However, prejudices have largely kept the aristocratic True Bloods and lower caste Half Bloods on opposite sides of the social and romantic divide. In addition, reticence born of distrust and a secret like no other hamper their attempts to span the chasm between them. It will take more than their shared passion to convince them to lower their protective walls and risk their hearts in full.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Eressë Belley
• Release date: Feb 15, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224735563

Eressë Belley

Since her college days, Eressë enjoyed writing historical fantasy. Most stories turned into M/M romances because the male leads had more chemistry with each other than the females. This penchant later became the wellspring of her series Chronicles of Ylandre. Eressë lives in Southeast Asia with her husband, three sons, and one beloved Shi Tzu. She also likes to cook and bake and is a professed chocoholic. But her first love is and always will be writing stories. 

Book preview

Author’s Note

To assist the reader in understanding Ylandrin culture, language, and government, glossaries of frequently used terms, locations, and characters have been placed at the end of the book.

Prologue

Audience

The Citadel, Rikara , in the 3006th year of the Common Age

There were few things that could put the fear of the Almighty into Yandro Vaidon. A summons by one’s sovereign was one of them. A summons that also instructed him to dress well and look his best further worsened his anxiety.

He passed through the great double-paneled doors of the Citadel, the massive keep that was the residence of Ylandre’s king, and strode across the spacious entrance hall with the assurance of one accustomed to doing so. This came of being the fortunate recipient of an Ardan’s largesse. In his case, a university education otherwise beyond reach and employment at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. As such, he regularly visited the Citadel to report his progress to his royal patron.

As he ascended the curving stairs to the upper level, he glanced down to take in the shimmering map of the kingdom cast upon the white stone floor of the hall by sunlight streaming through the circular stained glass that formed part of the ceiling. He would never tire of looking at the map in all its stylized glory. And he always wondered if he would ever cross Ylandre’s borders to travel the lands beyond.

He was a realist. Even an Ardan’s patronage might not be enough to get a lowborn sedyr into the upper echelons of a True Blood dominated institution as the diplomatic corps. Half Bloods like himself were usually relegated to clerical positions.

Because his face was familiar to the Citadel retainers, a few soon approached to inform him of the venue of his meeting with Rohyr Essendri. Though he already knew which chamber to go to, he humbly thanked one and all. He would not let his head swell with conceit, especially when he was little higher in station than the keep’s servants and attendants. And at least they knew their antecedents.

He, on the other hand, was ignorant of his save that one of them was Ylandrin. It was the lot of most Deira abandoned to the care of the orphanages as infants. He had long ago come to terms with his lack of blood-kin or knowledge of his familial roots save for the surname which his birthing father had included in the note he’d pinned to the blanket of the babe he’d left on the doorstep of the orphanage. Yandro could only hope it had been no lie.

The one other piece of information in the note Yandro would have happily done without. His sire was a long-wedded Deir who had broken off relations with his paramour once he learned the latter had got with his child. Fearing the possibility of infertility or death should he attempt to abort the babe, Yandro’s father had consigned him to the orphanage instead.

Yandro arrived at the designated room, one of many along the Citadel’s second major corridor, which branched off from the main hallway and lay parallel to the royal audience chamber. Rohyr’s distinctive voice carried through the open door, and Yandro proceeded to enter the room.

He paused on the threshold, however, when he saw the Ardan was not alone. He stood by one of the wide windows, in conversation with another Deir. As the latter’s back was to the door, Yandro could not identify him.

Rohyr suddenly glanced at him and said, "A moment, Yandro-min. He turned back to his companion and Yandro heard him say, It’s a pity your adjutant could not place his professional obligations over his personal desires. Verily, you’re too much of a distraction. Not to mention a terrible temptation."

And you aren’t? The Deir’s voice was low and seductive and faintly tinged with an accent Yandro could not place. Well then, where is this paragon you speak of?

Yandro frowned at the seeming disdain in the stranger’s tone. He did not know who they were referring to but he was indignant on the Deir’s behalf. What right did this fellow have to speak thusly of anyone? He managed a tight smile when Rohyr gestured in his direction.

The paragon heard you. Really, Jareth, where is your vaunted diplomacy?

Jareth? Hardly had Yandro realized who the Deir was when the latter turned around, his swift gaze pinning him to the spot. Yandro thought his heart would stop at his first full sight of Ylandre’s foremost ambassador.

He had heard much about Jareth Hadrana—his skill and charisma and rapid rise in the diplomatic corps. And just about everyone gushed over his attractiveness. That was not surprising. After all, Jareth was an Essendri and the scions of the highest House in the kingdom were known for their physical beauty. But Yandro had not been prepared for the sheer presence of the ambassador.

Taller than Rohyr by an inch or so, he was broader of chest and wider of shoulders and blessed with brawnier arms and legs. Possessed of piercing steel-blue eyes, a sharp nose, full lips, and an angular jaw, he was handsome rather than beautiful, but exceedingly so nonetheless. He drew one’s gaze and held it way beyond what would be deemed proper. And he invited perusal from the top of his head of wavy, ash-brown hair to the ends of his muscular limbs.

In Jareth the androgyny of the Deira was less pronounced, but he remained an indisputably gorgeous specimen of the race.

Yandro struggled to school his expression when Jareth looked him over. He would impress no one were he to gawk at the Deir like a smitten adolescent.

Rohyr motioned to him to approach. Yandro obeyed, his gaze moving warily from the ambassador to the Ardan and back. In return, Jareth looked him over curiously. Yandro guessed he was wondering about his appearance.

Many did upon first laying eyes on him. Yandro had oft been called a mongrel by the insensitive and unkind. Unfortunately, they were not far off the mark.

His luxuriant, curling, black-brown hair and wide, thickly lashed eyes bespoke Vihandran blood. The brighter hue of his teal-colored irises pointed to the North Continent, as the upper portion of the supercontinent of Vihandra was more commonly known, while the slightly copper cast of his skin indicated a union between an Ylandrin parent and a Deir from South Vihandra and its sunnier climes. But in stature, he was akin to the diminutive denizens of the far-off continent of Arvalde. He barely topped either Rohyr or Jareth’s shoulders.

I trust you recognize Lord Jareth Hadrana, Rohyr said, laying a hand on Yandro’s shoulder. When he nodded, Rohyr presented him to his ambassador cousin. This is Yandro Vaidon. Do treat him well, Jath.

Jareth snorted. Have I ever done otherwise? He shook his head. This is unlike you to bypass the proper channels and assign a novice to so sensitive a position.

Indulge me in this, Rohyr said. Yandro comes highly recommended by his superiors at Foreign Affairs, as well as by Keiran. Yandro knew a rush of pride at his university instructor’s favor being invoked. Keiran Arthanna’s word carried much weight at court. He says Yandro bears the one mind gift we find wanting in ourselves.

Jareth’s eyebrows rose in surprise. Empathy? When Rohyr dipped his chin in confirmation, he asked, How did Keiran come to know this?

An incident at the University. Suffice to say Yandro sensed malign intentions of a number of schoolmates. Fortunately, he had the sense to approach Keiran for help, which our esteemed cousin extended to fearsome effect.

Jareth snorted. I can imagine. So, you think he’ll make me a good adjutant.

Yandro nearly keeled over. The Ardan desired to appoint him Jareth’s aide?

I don’t see why not. Rohyr cast Yandro an approving smile. He’s highly regarded by his instructors and Ministry colleagues. And he has excellent recall, keeps his affairs in order, and thinks matters through before he speaks or acts. All the hallmarks of a good diplomat, don’t you agree?

Provided he knows when and where to use his talents.

Yandro could not help bristling a little at what seemed like disparagement of his character. He said nothing, but he returned Jareth’s gaze with a smidgen of ire.

Jareth’s lips unexpectedly parted into a wide grin, which left Yandro breathless from shock. Had he ever seen such charming dimples before? Not that he could recall. Veres almighty, it should be a crime to be so attractive, he inwardly grumbled.

He has pluck, Jareth remarked. I find it refreshing.

Rohyr chuckled. After all the boneless, overdeferential aides you’ve had at your beck and call, you would.

Now, Roh, overdeferential mayhap, but not boneless. It takes a goodly amount of strength in mind and body to succeed in the corps.

Yet they all seem to lose their wits and restraint once subjected to your lethal charm, Rohyr retorted. Admit it, you’re much too attractive for your own good. Or at least, in order to keep a decent adjutant longer than a year’s span.

That’s hardly my fault. I don’t ask my aides to bend over for me.

Nay, they do so of their own volition given the least encouragement from you.

And a mere smile is encouragement enough?

In your case, apparently.

Jareth rolled his eyes. Rest you, I shall endeavor to keep my charm bottled up until such time I must unleash it on Deira unfortunate enough to warrant its usage.

Yandro gaped at the suggestive banter between the two and the rather alarming implications of their exchange. He remembered to shut his mouth when Rohyr addressed him.

"I trust you’ll manage to keep him at bay, Yandro-min. For the sake of your heart and sanity, it would be best if you did."

Of course, Your Majesty! Yandro replied, more fervently than he intended. He experienced a shiver of trepidation when Jareth’s eyes twinkled with what could only be a challenge and his lips curved into a smirk. Yandro drew himself up to his full height and stoutly said, I swear I won’t let you or Lord Jareth down.

Jareth responded with a smile that was as wicked as it was dazzling. It will be interesting to see how well he rises to each occasion.

Jath...

Yes?

Rohyr shook his head in seeming exasperation though a grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. Have pity on him, cousin. At least for the first few months.

Jareth sighed almost theatrically. I shall do my utmost. He held out a hand to Yandro. Rohyr wishes to name you my aide at court this afternoon, so we’d best accustom ourselves to working together soonest.

Startled by the swift and sudden change of his fortunes, Yandro hastily returned the gesture and found his hand locked in a firm grip. "I’ll do my best not to disappoint you, Dyhar," he murmured.

Jareth held his hand a while longer than the usual. The twinkle in his eyes turned into a speculative gleam. I don’t think you will, he said, his voice all soft and silky.

He regarded Yandro as a kit might eye a bowl of fresh milk.

Yandro swallowed hard. He would have to pray daily for patience and fortitude. It appeared he would need both if he hoped to survive service to Jareth Hadrana.

Chapter One

Brokering

Soleris, Khitaira, in the 3008th year of the Common Age

Much as he wished to glare at the Mikhar of Soleris across the negotiation table, Yandro forced himself to curve his mouth into a gracious, noncommittal smile followed by a polite bend of his head. The precise bow conveyed just the right amount of courtesy and distance and preempted any assumptions the recipient might make based on misconstruction or personal perceptions. Best to maintain a professional mien in the presence of a Deir who’d just made it clear that he was interested in adding Yandro to his stable of consorts and concubines.

Yandro placed a good part of the blame for the Solerian king’s pursuit of his favors on Jareth Hadrana. As Ambassador Extraordinary and Plenipotentiary to Soleris, Jareth represented Rohyr Essendri and hence was invested with full power of independent action on behalf of the Ylandrin government. When he appeared to agree with the Mikhar that a diplomatic aide could be included among the proposed treaty’s provisions, said agreement was as good as a royal decree.

It had taken all of Yandro’s self-restraint not to react with open dismay and distaste when Jareth indicated he was amenable to discussing further revision of the treaty stipulations. Granted he did not actually say he would put Yandro’s services at the Mikhar’s disposal. But his choice of words and subtly conniving manner gave the impression he could and probably would.

Obviously displeased with Yandro’s response, the Mikhar frowned and turned a questioning gaze on Jareth.

Your aide is not as warm as we expected, Ambassador, he remarked, his use of the plural form of address toward himself as sovereign a clear expression of his displeasure. Perhaps he does not fully grasp the consequences of such aloofness. Verily, it seems Ylandre’s standards of appointment to government service are not as exacting as should be.

Yandro stifled an indignant growl at the aspersion cast on his country, having his intelligence questioned and being talked about as if he were a part of the chamber’s furnishings. Instead, he looked about him, observing the other Solerians in attendance—the Mikhar’s chief advisor, a scribe, the Captain of the Royal Guard, two warriors, and the servants who poured wine and served a dish of crisply fried fingerlings with a sweet and spicy dipping sauce.

He was struck all over again by the physical appearances of these folk from the south of Khitaira, the northernmost continent of the land mass to the west of Ylandre.

The vast Rualan Ocean lay between Khitaira and the supercontinent of Vihandra. But due to the ocean’s perilous waters, Ylandrin seafarers preferred to traverse the Samaran Sea though it entailed sailing along the northern coast of Khitaira if a ship was headed for one of the continent’s western ports or debarking in neighboring Lydan and travelling by land from there. An alternative route was to cross the Samaran Sea, sail around the tip of the southern continent of Arvalde and then travel northward to the western shores of Khitaira. This was the favored route of the South Vihandrans.

Depending on the weather conditions and whether a vessel was solely wind-powered or also propelled by oars, it could take up to a month to journey between North Vihandra and Khitaira and vice versa; longer if one took the overland trek through Lydan. But the Samaran Sea’s calmer waters ensured much safer passage and that made up for the lengthier trip. Of course, Deira fulsomely blessed with the mind gifts simply translocated to their destination and avoided the long journey altogether.

Huge as it was, Khitaira’s north and south regions were different not only in climate and topography—temperate, lush with forests and lakes and fairly mountainous in the north; balmy and given to flatlands and fast-flowing waterways in the south—but also in the features of its citizens. To Yandro, the fair-headed, golden-skinned southerners were even more exotic-looking than their dark-haired, ivory-complected northern counterparts. Two features they had in common though—their almond-shaped eyes, whose outer corners slanted upward and their strongly androgynous forms and faces.

When Yandro first laid eyes on them, he’d wondered if the Khitairans’ forebears had not bred with the gelra, the ancient Aiseni natives, as extensively as the other tribes of the Naere, the Deira’s ancestral race, thus preserving much of their original epicene appearance. But if that was the case, then the Khitairans should have also preserved the bulk of the Naeren mind gifts in the general population. Yet there was as much a divide between the True Bloods and Half Bloods here as there were in the other continents with the purer enyra usually composed of the upper crust and ruling class while the sedyra though the majority largely comprised commoners and minor gentry.

He’d later learned that most historians believed the Khitairans’ tribe of origin had always been the most androgynous of the Naere. The belief was based on the illustrations and other artwork borne to Aisen by the Naere when they fled their dying world. This was the reason commonly given for their slow change in appearance even long after the Inception, that almost forgotten time of deliberate interbreeding between the Deira’s colonizing ancestors and Aisen’s now-extinct indigenous people.

Whatever the truth of it, the Khitairans were a fascinating people, if surprisingly contradictory in their aesthetic preferences.

The northerners favored simplicity and deep jewel tones and thus their cities and towns bore a spare beauty and restrained elegance that was in stark contrast to the south, which tended toward the ornate and brightly colored. Even their taste in clothing differed with the southerners, favoring varicolored ensembles and their northern counterparts tending toward monochromatic attire.

Yandro did not consider southern dress or design gaudy or lacking in sophistication. Some of the most beauteous garments and wondrous houses, temples, and other buildings in the continent were found here. But they could be quite jarring at first sight, especially if seen in the wake of the more understated and less vividly hued raiment and architecture of the north.

Though by no means absolute hallmarks of either region, this striking dissimilarity was the general rule.

Soleris was no exception. A medium-sized country on the southwestern coast of Khitaira, it was nowhere near Ylandre in wealth or military strength and under normal circumstances would merit little attention from the North Continent’s most powerful nation. But when the most favorably situated major seaport in the south of the continent was located in the kingdom’s coastal capital city, it made sense to make an ally of Soleris to guarantee safe and convenient anchorage for Ylandre’s commercial and naval fleets.

The capital was lovely if a little backward compared to the other great cities of Khitaira. Many ancient structures with their pointed roofs and gracefully curved eaves had been preserved and were scattered throughout the city. Old-fashioned boats with odd fan-shaped sails plied the bordering river alongside vessels of more contemporary design. And several side streets and alleyways were still paved with the rose-colored pebbles native to this part of the continent, thus giving them a quaint charm.

As for the Solerians, they were generally kind and welcoming, albeit a little cautious with strangers. But once they warmed up to visitors, they tended to be very generous and helpful.

Unfortunately, their current monarch was a vain and lecherous despot with an overinflated opinion of himself and his kingdom’s importance. Yandro grudgingly allowed that he was handsome in a generic sort of way, but distinctly lacking in personality. A rather forgettable Deir were he not a country’s ruler.

In any case, Jareth and Yandro had been assigned the thankless task of wooing him. This involved alternately cajoling and browbeating him into accepting the treaty and its conditions.

Jareth delivered as professional a smile as Yandro’s had been, yet he somehow managed to imbue it with the magnetism he could and did put to such devastating effect on whomever he turned it on. Considering he was probably seething inside, his equability and soothing manner was nothing short of awe-inspiring. And it quickly proved worth the effort when the Mikhar visibly thawed and was seen to catch his breath and even crack a faint smile.

Yandro almost rolled his eyes when he recalled all the Deira Jareth had charmed into compliance simply by smiling in that ridiculously appealing way of his or treating them to a drawn-out, appreciative gaze that could induce even the worst curmudgeons to fumble around him in the manner of blushing adolescents.

I beg pardon for any perceived slight to your person, Your Majesty, Jareth said. I assure you none was intended. But my aide is newly appointed and not yet comfortable with stepping outside the limits of policy imposed on him. Indeed, he has no experience of being the recipient of a sovereign’s favor such as you’ve graciously bestowed on him.

It took a heartbeat or so for the Mikhar to wrestle free of Jareth’s ensorcelling gaze. He glanced at Yandro, who produced a more accommodating smile this time around. The Mikhar brightened and faced Jareth once more.

Perhaps we were hasty in our appraisal of his manner, he said, his voice a shade higher than usual. It may turn out he is warm where it is most needed.

With a knowing smile, Jareth reached slightly to his left to take Yandro’s right hand where it lay at table’s edge. Keeping his eyes on the Mikhar, he turned Yandro’s hand over and caressingly stroked it from inside his wrist to his palm. The king stared, visibly mesmerized by the suggestive, circular movements of Jareth’s fingers.

Yandro tried not to display an outward response to the ambassador’s touch. The inflow of warmth into his cheeks, however, told him he was not entirely successful.

Well, considering the extensive training he received from me, I warrant he is indeed, Jareth all but purred.

The Mikhar’s reactive gape was so far from regal, Yandro found it nigh impossible not to grin though he did manage to smother a snicker. He quickly looked away lest the king espy his amusement.

That is most pleasing to hear, Ambassador, the monarch said, sounding a little breathless. Your reputation does precede you and with good reason or so we have been told.

Jareth softly laughed which prompted the Mikhar to take a generous sip of wine. A pity Your Majesty has no inclination to test the veracity of those tales.

The king actually appeared regretful. Yes, well... He looked once more at Yandro, his gaze openly appraising once more. I imagine those you have trained will do your tutelage justice.

The Mikhar’s cessation of the use of the royal ‘we’ elicited a small exhalation of relief from Yandro. Jareth had succeeded in soothing the Deir’s pricked pride.

I believe they will, Jareth agreed. I’m a very demanding teacher, and my standard of performance is quite high.

He waited a moment for the Mikhar to digest the implications of his statement before gently touching his fingers to long sheets of parchment that lay on the table between them.

"I warrant it’s been a tiring day for you, Mikhar-tyar, he murmured solicitously. Perhaps we should finish our business forthwith that you might take your rest. Is Your Majesty satisfied with the terms of this contract? Or shall we draw up a new one?"

The Mikhar stared at the document uncertainly whereupon Jareth gestured to Yandro and huskily added, We would be delighted to personally assist you should you wish to make any revisions.

The Deir gaped at him again. But there was a spark of something else apart from mere arousal in his eyes. Curious, Yandro relaxed his shields and extended his senses to pick up the emotions radiating from the monarch.

Though he was not as gifted as Jareth and his fellow adepts, Yandro was receptive enough to pick up feelings and even the occasional stray thought from those around him. Not all Deira, usually the untrained or only modestly gifted, remembered to keep their shields up and the mind-blind had no shields to speak of at all. To avoid being inundated by the ebb and flow of random thoughts and feelings from those around them, sensitive Deira kept themselves moderately shielded at the very least. But with training, they could control their shields at will. As Yandro did now.

Well, the Mikhar was certainly excited; that was to be expected. However, there was also a hint of apprehension. Bordering on fear in fact. Wondering why, Yandro allowed himself to experience the monarch’s feelings on a deeper, more-invasive level.

To his shock, he was forcibly drawn into the Mikhar’s mind, instantly seeing what the Deir saw. Jareth’s doing, he concluded. After getting over his surprise, he quickly recognized external mental manipulation in progress.

Jareth had planted images in the Mikhar’s consciousness without the latter realizing it. The images were subtly woven into the very fabric of the monarch’s thought processes, making him believe they were part of his imagination or personal foresight rather than introduced by an outside source.

Yandro recalled the Solerian royal family’s mental abilities had eroded over the millennia. The Mikhar’s weak shields were testament to that diminishment. With some chagrin, he also realized Jareth had kept this in mind and intended from the start to use the king’s licentiousness to manipulate him while keeping control of the proceedings, including the attempt to add Yandro to the compact’s provisos.

The ambassador now filled the Mikhar’s mind with scarlet visions of Yandro in his bed, ready to see to his pleasure. Yandro almost uttered an imprecation under his breath as he watched Jareth’s vision of an encounter with the Solerian monarch.

Where in Aisen did the ambassador get such outrageous, prurient, and embarrassing ideas? And how could he possibly know what