Layla smiled a little more, knowing it was true. Tempeste’s fast action had saved her life. And his control of the ocean, to make it wash her directly back up into his arms, was impressive. “You’re right – I’m alive because of you, and I know it. You’d think Arini might have warned me there’d be such a dire trick to finding his Aviary.”
“He’s a mysterious creature, Layla.” Tempeste eyed her as he took down a teakettle from the shelf. “Few people know the whys of King Arini’s movements.”
“Do you think he meant to kill me?” The thought suddenly struck Layla, that if the Phoenix King had wanted her dead, what better way than to act like her friend and give her his feather, then leave her to plummet to her death trying to find his Aviary. Tempeste frowned, blinking a few times as he turned and leaned back against the kitchenette counter, crossing his arms. Layla could nearly see his knife-rig now that his jacket was gone, like a watery mirage against the lean cut of his shirt and vest, and his thoughtful poise plus the weapons suddenly reminded her that he was Intercessoria Judiciary.
“I honestly don’t know.” He spoke at last. “Finding the Aviary has always required a leap of faith, that is something about it that is infamous. Those without invitation can sometimes feel its presence, but they are the ones who find the site and then walk off into the ocean and die. Do any with an invitation ever fall to their deaths? Would magic of Arini’s have interfered if I hadn’t been there to catch you from hitting the rocks? I don’t suppose we’ll ever know. You might ask King Arini when you speak with him. Though that man has even more secrets than Adrian Rhakvir.”
Thinking about Adrian made Layla sigh, a dark hole opening in her heart. She suddenly remembered her mission and all the reasons she was here, and they swamped her. Tempeste Durant saw it and his face softened. With a wry smile, he gestured to the bathroom. “You should get cleaned up. I’ll have tea ready soon.”
“Thanks.”
Moving to her room, she began to strip off her sodden garb, not bothering to close the door. Tempeste was gay; she figured he wouldn’t care if she got naked. He didn’t, bustling about the kitchen and starting the kettle boiling. Moving to the shared bathroom with only a white towel wrapped around her, Layla showered with the door open like she’d once done when Arron had been the only one home in the Seattle house, then bustled back to her room with a towel wrapped around her body and one twisting up her hair. By the time she was dressed in the yoga pants she’d brought and her old comfortable grey v-neck shirt, Tempeste was pouring two steaming mugs of chamomile and having a seat at the small dining table.
Tempeste slid her mug over as she sat. Though he’d taken off his jacket and knife-rig now, which Layla saw laying upon his bed, he’d left on the rest of his sodden outfit as if he didn’t terribly mind being wet, though the shirt was half-unbuttoned with the sleeves rolled up now. Layla saw how beautifully sculpted the Siren’s chest was, lean and graceful just like Reginald’s, though Tempeste was taller and more slender through the shoulders like Adrian. She tried to stop staring at his nearly opalescent white skin as she sipped her tea, but it was hard.
Sirens were just so fetching, gay or not.
“Damn. Why are your kind so attractive?” Layla blurted out suddenly, curious.
Tempeste chuckled as he blew on his tea, pleasure flashing through his grey-gold eyes. “It’s our way. Sirens are the most attractive Lineage in the Twilight Realm, besides Ephilohim and Ephemerals like Sylvania.”
“Is it wiles? Or just natural beauty?” Layla mused, her gaze drifting to Tempeste’s sculpted chest.
“A bit of both.” He smiled, letting her ogle him but not responding to her gaze. “We have a natural allure. Sirens are mesmeric, it’s why you hear stories of mariners wooed to their death upon the rocks not just by Siren-song, but also by a Siren’s beauty beneath the moonlight. Male or female, it doesn’t matter. We’re all this way.”
“I’ve not met any female Sirens yet.”
“Prepare to be astounded.” Tempeste gave a secretive smile, blowing on his tea. “If I wasn’t entirely gay, I’d have mounted dozens of them by now. They’re incredible creatures. Though the birth-rate for female Sirens is about one-in-twenty. There’s a reason Siren males are able to breed in Dragon form. Because the females are very hard to come by.”
“Huh.” Layla pondered that, seeing the crazy hand of evolution at work. “I would have thought from human stories that Sirens were all women.”
“No, but female Sirens are the most powerful.” Tempeste blew on his tea and sipped. “Nearly each one that gets born has Royal abilities. And they can be very cruel, reveling in causing mayhem over their beauty. Hence, enjoying luring human mariners to their deaths, before such things were banned by the High Court and enforced by the Intercessoria.”
“Interesting.” Layla sipped her tea. “So is the Intercessoria the High Court’s right hand?”
“Yes.” Tempeste set his tea down, regarding her with a level directness. “Just like your human judicial system, we have ours. The Intercessoria are called on to investigate many different issues, from immigration concerns between Realms to missing persons reports, to stolen items, to dealing with clan wars.”
“Do clans have their own internal policing systems?” Layla wondered, thinking back to Rachida Rhakvir and her frightening position in Adrian’s clan.
“They do.” Tempeste nodded. “Though if a clan can’t solve a particular issue according to their own internal laws with minimal disruption to the outside world, the Intercessoria get involved. We were originally created to be a policing system between clans, to aid the High Court in solving disputes and putting out fires that might lead to inter-clan wars. That is still largely what we do, though we address many other issues as well.”
“What about the war between the North Sea Sirens and the Blood Dragons of Norway and Sweden?” Layla asked pointedly. “Isn’t that currently ongoing?”
Tempeste heaved a sigh, his long fingers tapping his mug. “If a clan war threatens the general populace, or humans, the Intercessoria get heavily involved. But if it occurs in a fairly remote region in the Twilight Realm…it’s generally allowed to run its course. Our clan’s war is being let burn because it’s raging up in the North Sea and in less populated areas of Norway. Clan wars can be brutal, and ours has been, but not as brutal as some. Crystal Dragons are famous for clan wars so terrible, they kill nearly everyone on both sides within a day of non-stop battle.”
“Like Dusk’s Egyptian Crystal clan. Was their war with the Tunisians allowed to rage because they had their battle out in the desert?”
“Partly.” Tempeste’s gaze became thoughtful with sadness. “But also partly because the Intercessoria heard about that battle too late to stop it. Crystal Dragons have long-simmering tempers, and they take deep offense at slights. Clan feuds can simmer beneath the surface for centuries. And then – pop – an affront happens, and suddenly everyone in a clan is rushing to battle within minutes. That’s what happened with the Egyptian and Tunisian Crystal Dragons. Crystal Dragon battles are hard to predict and even harder to control, as they often happen deep underground. They frequently spill over into the human realm, as earthquakes, tsunamis, and volcanic eruptions.”
Layla wanted to ask Tempeste more, when she suddenly yawned from the long day and the chamomile tea. Even though she hid it with her hand, Tempeste smiled, then pushed up from the table. “You’re tired. It’s been a long day for both of us. Go get some sleep, and we’ll return to the cliffs in the morning.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Rising, Layla moved to her room. For some reason, she felt safer leaving the door open a touch with the Jud nearby rather than closing it. Sliding into bed, she turned out the shell-encrusted bedside light. She could still see light from the kitchen and hear Tempeste puttering around, washing their mugs and straightening chairs. She heard him check the front door, then saw him check the French doors to the rooftop patio with the impeccability of a bodyguard. Closing her eyes, Layla heard him at last retire to bed with a creaking of mattress springs.
Like her, he left his door open, and she found it comforting.
Snuggling into the crisp sheets, Layla found herself lulled by the sound of the ocean outside. Soon it was inside her mind, and for the first time in ages, she did not dream of the desert. Instead, she stood upon a rocky headland high above the ocean, watching seagulls wheel and cry in the fresh salt spray. A luminous dawn surrounded her, glinting golden off the waves. As she stood, feeling her heart lift in the new day, she saw a man step out of the sea. Far down upon the beach, he emerged from the water naked, draped in strings of pearls and seaweed. His only true ornament was a pearl and gold belt woven around his sculpted hips. As he walked out from the surf with a dancer’s grace, his long golden hair flowing down over one shoulder like a river of sunlight, Layla felt her heart catch in her chest.
