Lorcan

Vhoig is so beautiful this time of year.

The sun is high in the sky as I walk across the grounds of my family's estate. Duke Raleigh has always been well respected, and with his mate, Fiona's, touch, our lands have become envied by many.

The air is sweet, clear, and bright, and just slightly tinged with the tart, herby scent and taste of the bountiful rirzed herbs that grow all over the estate.

You're walking too fast, I think to myself and consciously slow down as Zilla, my companion, hurries to keep up with me.

I come to a stop and offer her my arm. She takes it gracefully, gratefully, and leans on me slightly before we start to walk again.

"I'm sorry." I try to laugh it off. "I always get so lost in thought when I'm walking here."

She smiles, and I hand her a handkerchief. She gently dabs away droplets of sweat as we walk back to the main house.

Zilla is everything I should want.

She is a beautiful dark elf woman of noble birth. She is slender, with a delicate body, yet she's well-rounded. Everything for the son of a respected Duke. A noble family close with the royals.

Her long, stark white hair and light gray skin are shockingly attractive against my dark skin and hair.

"Don't worry about it." Her voice is soothing and gentle. "I am quite used to males doing what they want, whenever they want. That is why we ladies have our afternoon teas and sewing circles."

I make a conscious effort to speak to Zilla for the rest of our walk. We exchange childhood stories and laugh about the antics of our younger siblings.

We continue to talk until we reach the gates of the estate, where her carriage waits for her.

She looks at the carriage reluctantly and then looks back at me.

I lean down, almost compulsively, and brush a gentle kiss onto her cheek. Then I take her hand and kiss the back of her palm.

Zilla lets out a little gasp, and I suppress a smile as I bow neatly before her.

"Will I see you again?" I know that she does not want to ask this question. She does not want to seem desperate.

But I also have not made any indication that I want to see her again.

I take both her hands in mine and look at her as earnestly as I can, even though everything inside me is screaming for me to make her leave.

"I'll send for you soon."

There is still hesitation and what I can only describe as disappointment in her eyes. But she smiles and nods before walking gracefully away.

Her skirts, expensively and privately designed, swing behind her.

I do not wait for her to leave. Instead, I turn and hurry back to the house.

I cannot deny that I am glad she is gone. Today was close to unbearable. I am sure that Zilla is perfectly pleasant, and I know she will make an excellent wife to some lucky dark elf.

But that dark elf is not me, even though Zilla is clearly head over heels in love with me.

You should just hope that you were courteous enough that she doesn't run complaining to her mother.

I groan at the thought that I might have been even slightly less than perfect on today's outing.

"She's too scared of upsetting you to complain about anything," I mutter to myself. "You were perfect."

I take reassurance from my own words. Mostly because I know they are true.

I spent my entire childhood learning to be charming, well-spoken, and courteous. I am also well-read, fit, and handsome, according to my mother.

So Zilla would have nothing to complain about. I wined and dined her to within an inch of her life.

"You're so predictable," a dry, wry voice speaks from behind one of the bookshelves.

I flop down into one of the comfortable chairs in the library. My sister, Lily, saunters out from behind the shelf containing all the dark elf fairy tales, with a broad, wicked smile on her face.

"I don't want to hear it." My voice is rough, and I swallow a yawn.

"But you're going to hear it," she says. Lily's voice is smug and cheerful at the same time. "It was actually painful to watch you two together." She lets out a laugh and twirls around elegantly before sitting down neatly in the chair opposite me.

Lily looks lovely, as she always does. My sister might be snarky, abrasive, and petulant sometimes, especially when she doesn't get her way, but she is always well put together.

Right now she is wearing a printed blue floral dress, and a white band is wrapped around the crown of her dark hair.

She is everything that Mother wants, I cannot help but think moodily to myself. Well-mannered in public. Too distant for any suitor to come close to. Our parents have nothing to worry about. Lily won't get into trouble.

I cannot stand the thought of going on another date with someone like Zilla. I've flirted with and swooned so many women, but there's always an issue. Something about them drives me away.

My sister continues then.

"When are you going to stop leading these women on? Especially if you're so clearly not interested in them?"

If Lily could see you weren't interested in Zilla, then Zilla definitely knows. Unless she's a complete and utter idiot.

Which she might be.

"It's none of your business, Lily. Why don't you go find someone else to bother?"

Usually, I would have the energy to argue with my sister. We've spent our entire lives arguing, so it is a routine that I can fall into quite easily.

But after today's date with Zilla, I do not have the energy. All I really want to do is sit and stare at the walls.

And brood.

Lily seems to sense my apathy and disappears without a word.

As she leaves, I have to concede that my sister is right. I do have to stop leading my dates on.

Having to lie continuously is exhausting, and I know that my parents are starting to become a bit tetchy about it all.

My father wants me to grow up and take on my responsibilities now, and my mother wants to be able to plan a massive mating ceremony.

I know that if I just chose one, everyone would be happy.

Maybe I'd be happy if I just… picked one.

But I know that wouldn't be possible.

My gaze slides over to the little corner of the library, which is home to a small, round, glass table.

I stand up from my seat languidly, lazily, and walk over to the table, where I pour myself a shot of zhisk.

I do not start drinking immediately. Instead, I tilt my hand and allow the bronze liquid to swirl around in the glass.

My father only ever purchases the finest alcoholic beverages, and I am not really supposed to be touching this particular bottle.

But right now I need a drink.

I hold the glass carefully as I begin to pace up and down the length of the library.

My thoughts are confused, chaotic, and erratic, and I shake my head as if that will clear the rodan nest in my head.

My thoughts return to Zilla, and for a second, I have a vivid, bright, brilliant vision of our mating ceremony.

I turn to see my mother beaming at me from where she sits in the front row. My father sits next to her, his chest puffed out in pride.

I turn to Zilla, who is radiant in a pale blue dress, her hair piled elegantly on top of her head.

In this vision, after the mating ceremony, my father hands me the keys to a brand-new mansion and appoints me as chief of all his businesses.

The vision fades quickly, though it leaves a sour taste in my mouth. I lift the glass to my mouth and swallow the zhisk in one burning gulp.

Warmth ripples across my skin, and I pour myself another shot of zhisk. This time, I savor the taste of the liquid. I roll it around in my mouth and shudder at the brisk, smooth, biting taste of the zhisk.

"You should thank the gods that Father doesn't skimp on his liquor. At least you can get drunk off the good stuff."

After I have a few drinks, I wander over to the doors that lead out to the garden. The day has grown older, and the sun is lower in the sky. The air is crisper and colder, but still sweet.

"You should just do it," I mutter to myself. "You should just write to Zilla and ask her to be your mate. Get it over and done with."

I can almost see our entire future together.

I turn towards the writing desk, which stands in the other corner of the library. I try to form the letter in my head, and my mouth goes dry with fear.

She's not the one you want. None of them are. That's why you move from woman to woman, acting as if none of them are worth anything.

I close my eyes briefly as an image obscures my vision. An image I do not want to see. An image of long, bright hair, falling gracefully down a slender back.

I open my eyes and smile to myself. I cannot imagine settling down with Zilla or any of the other desperate women who want my hand in marriage.

But there is someone I could imagine myself with. Someone I could see myself with for the rest of my life.

Someone I've always had feelings for.

"But that will never happen. Will it?" I tell myself. Instead of going to the writing desk, I walk over to the table with the zhisk.

And soon enough, all thoughts of Zilla slip my mind.