The Wraiths of Will and Pleasure - By Storm Constantine Page 0,239

they would like to meet the dashing stranger who visited the house. They’d heard the rumours. Who was he? Mima, Flick and Ulaume ignored these less than subtle pleas. Artemisian was a har who guarded his privacy. He did not want to meet new faces.

Flick realised he had much to be thankful for in his life. Most hara would envy all that he had. High ranking friends, an exclusive relationship with the most important har in Wraeththudom, a beautiful house, meaningful work, and a har he loved at his side. But still, he found himself thinking of Lileem and was plagued by the nagging doubt he hadn’t done enough to try and help her. One night, in bed, he confided this thought to Ulaume, and Ulaume took Flick’s face in his hands. ‘I haven’t given up hope,’ he said. ‘I know that one day Lileem will return to us. I feel it in my heart.’

His courage and conviction washed over Flick like the waves of a warm ocean.

‘Trust me,’ Ulaume said.

‘With my life,’ Flick murmured.

It was a special moment. Nothing was said, but Flick lay back and offered himself. There was a sweetness to this surrender he could not describe. His whole body ached. When he felt Ulaume inside him, he thought he might die from the feeling of completeness and love that swelled through his heart. Aruna had never been like this: so gentle, yet so intense.

There came a moment when Ulaume stopped moving and whispered, ‘We don’t have to go on.’

Flick stared into his eyes. ‘This is how much I trust you,’ he said. And he felt a part of him open up. It hurt a little, but soon the pain was forgotten in the overwhelming and blissful sensation that came afterwards.

In this way, Flick and Ulaume conceived their first child.

The seasons stole over the land in their gowns of white, and green and russet. Clouds moved across the sky, from day to night, and the years passed. When Flick’s son was born, he and Ulaume named him Aleeme, partly in honour of lost Lileem.

After a couple of years, the Tigron’s friend Kate came to Shilalama, and as Pellaz had predicted, she got on very well with Mima. The inception went through as planned, and not really to anyone’s surprise, Mima consummated it with aruna. From thereafter, when Pellaz came to the house, he usually brought Kate with him. She was Katarin now.

It had become common knowledge in Immanion that Pellaz visited Jaddayoth on a regular basis, and he let it be known he stayed with Ulaume and Flick, although as far as everyhar else was concerned, they lived in Garridan rather than Roselane. Flick sometimes wondered how Seel felt about that, because he presumed Seel must know. The Tigron often yearned for times of peace and contemplation, and holidays with old friends in the beautiful mountainous country were just what he needed. He liked to take his human friend with him, even though it was rather frowned upon that he allowed her to ride the otherlanes. He had mentioned to friends that harish adepts in Garridan had taught Kate many meditational techniques to ensure longevity in humans, and this was why she did not appear to age as other humans did. No hara in Immanion questioned this, because to them it was unthinkable that Kate could have become in any way har.

Pellaz said he had learned that Thiede had released Cal from the tower, because Cal had renounced all ties to the Tigron. He was mostly rehabilitated and would now forge a new life somewhere else. Pellaz appeared to have accepted this.

Flick was sometimes dizzy with it all. Life was neat. No loose ends.

Chapter Thirty Five

The Festival of the Mountain Walker was only a few days away, and Flick was out in the orchard spraying the trees with a herbal insect repellent, Aleeme playing in the flower-strewn grass at his feet. The sun was hot on Flick’s head as its beams came down through the gently moving leaves. The drone of bees filled the air, because Ulaume had started an apiary at the end of the orchard. This might be the last year that Aleeme enjoyed this festival as a harling, because he was nearly seven years old, and the time for innocent play would soon be at an end. Flick looked down on his son affectionately. He looked more like his father than his hostling, but his hair, like Flick’s, was very dark. Flick supposed all