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  Hold Still

  A NATURES IN HARMONY BOOK

  MEGAN DERR

  Esen has spent his entire life an outcast, and he threw out his last chance at fitting in when he broke the engagement his family worked so hard to arrange. Sent to the royal palace to fulfill one last duty, he counts the hours until he is literally left homeless and destitute.

  But hiding away in the royal garden, he accidentally overhears a private conversation and meets the mysterious Queen's Man...

  Hold Still

  Natures in Harmony

  By Megan Derr

  Published by Less Than Three Press LLC

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission of the publisher, except for the purpose of reviews.

  Edited by Samantha M Derr

  Cover designed by Megan Derr

  This book is a work of fiction and as such all characters and situations are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is coincidental.

  Second Edition February 2018

  First Edition published November 2012

  Copyright © 2018 by Megan Derr

  Printed in the United States of America

  Digital ISBN 9781684312245

  Hold Still

  Esen slipped outside, desperate to escape the stifling ball, the whispers that sprang up whenever he passed by a cluster of people, the reproving looks that he could feel like something slithering across his skin. He didn't need the judgment of strangers. They had no right to be accusatory, disappointed, or to spout twisted speculation as to why he had broken his engagement.

  Not that it stopped any of them.

  He just wanted to fulfill his obligation to Queen Marga and then…well, go, though he had no idea where he would go. Home was out of the question, and tempting though it was to return to Mount Chiron, he did not really want to become a hermit, alone and forgotten by the world. Bad enough he had spent his childhood that way.

  There was some appeal to traveling, to seeing the world—but he had always imagined doing it alongside someone, traveling with a purpose. The idea of wandering around aimlessly because he quite literally had nowhere else to go…

  'Fickle Wind' was the term he had heard most that evening, though anyone who really knew Sylphs knew they were no such thing. More than any elemental, Sylphs needed stability, needed someone who would ground them so that they did not succumb to the whispers of the wind.

  He just wished…

  Esen sighed and stared up at the night sky, the yellow half-moon shining down on the queen's garden. There was a sweet scent on the summer breeze, and he was tempted to drift into it, lose himself in it. Who would miss him? Certainly not his family, who had not bothered to recall him until he was sixteen. They had then crammed a thousand neglected lessons into his head so that he could be quickly married off to suit family ends, only to toss him right back out again when he had broken the engagement, sending him as a representative at the Gathering of Harmony with the understanding that he need not bother to return.

  No family, no friends, and the entire court rife with gossip about why he would break such a fine engagement.

  He fussed with the edge of his jacket, sad that after all the trouble he had gone to in picking out the dark pink fabric and the gold lace and the shiny buttons… It was so handsome and colorful, but all night people had looked at him as though he was wearing a flour sack.

  Sighing again, he retreated to one of the stone benches set against the high garden wall, hiding himself from immediate view of the queen's summer palace behind night-blooming jasmine and roses. He closed his eyes, reminded himself of why the rumors and looks and his family's fury were worth it. After so much anger and pain, he would not doubt himself. He would not spend the rest of his life miserable.

  But, an inner voice whispered, it would be nice if just one other person believed in him. He was so tired of being alone in everything he did. He did not need to be surrounded by people—he just wanted one person who made him happy, that was all. Why was that too much to ask?

  The sound of voices registered belatedly, and Esen winced as he realized he should have been paying more attention. Did he reveal himself, or was it better to stay hidden and wait for them to leave?

  "I'm leaving in the morning." The voice was familiar, though Esen could not place it.

  "You just got back, and you're still banged up from those damned Manticores," the second voice said angrily, then heaved a long sigh. To judge by his accent, the slight squawk to his words, the man was a Griffin. "Where are you going?"

  It was the first voice, smooth and cultured, but with an underlying huskiness, that was familiar. "Mount Chiron, to have a word with the Centaurs. This is the third year in a row that they've refused to send a delegate to the Gathering of Harmony. They will not even send a message. Her Majesty has had enough."

  "Bugger the Centaurs, they never kept quiet about their contempt for the Gathering, or their contempt that a Dragon has taken the throne and intends to keep it. Let them sulk on their precious mountain."

  "Her Majesty bid me go and address the matter, and so I am going."

  "I suppose our plans don't matter a wit," the Griffin snarled.

  The first man sighed. "I warned you when we began this that I spent a great deal of time traveling, and am often sent out with little to no notice. You said you were all right with that."

  His words were met with a stony silence.

  "Justin," the first man said quietly.

  "You never stay put—you never even try to stay put."

  "I do as my queen bids."

  "You don't like holding still. But," he added bitterly, "I suppose that is part of your nature, isn't it?"

  The first man replied sharply, "That's enough."

  "Yes, I rather think it is. Have fun on your bloody mountain, Gaston."

  Realization jolted through Esen. Gaston. The Queen's Man, Master Gaston Chevaux. He was a powerful mage, and more intriguing still, his origins were unknown. Nobody, except perhaps the queen herself—and, Esen suspected, the Griffin who had just ended their affair—knew Gaston's Nature. There were also rumors he was close friends with Chief Llew of the Lion Clan and Chief Gillis of the Satyr Clan, powerful and dangerous figures both, but Esen had little love of rumors. Gaston was not a court mage, or even a lord, simply a mysterious man who did the queen's bidding. He traveled wherever she bid, and was seldom seen in court for very long. Esen had only seen him briefly, from a distance, on two other occasions.

  The Griffin huffed off, and Esen waited for Gaston to depart as well, feeling bad that he had listened to such a private conversation.

  "Are you coming out or not?" Gaston asked, voice dry.

  Esen jolted. He gave a fleeting thought to dissipating or ignoring Gaston, but immediately dismissed the notions. He preferred honesty, even when it got him thrown out and left alone. Standing up, he joined Gaston by the water fountain. "Apologies, sir. I did not mean to eavesdrop. My mind was drifting, and by the time I realized there were additional voices in the garden, I was not certain what to do. But I did not mean to make myself privy to your conversation."

  It was too dark to see Gaston clearly, but Esen could see his dismissive shrug. "It is not as though you overheard a secret matter of the crown. The last time a lover ended our affair, it was far more public. One spectator is as nothing." He cocked his head. "You're a Sylph. No wonder I could feel you but not smell you. What are you going out here in Her Majesty's garden?"

  "Escaping whispers. I can only stand to hear others discuss my private life for so long."
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  "Ah," Gaston said, sympathetic. "Well, stay as long as you like, then. Do not make a habit of eavesdropping, though, little wind child. Trust me when I say it is never worth the trouble it brings."

  "Yes, sir. Is it—that is, are you really going to Mount Chiron?"

  Gaston paused in his departure and turned back to him, voice wary but indulgent. "Yes. Why?"

  "I grew up there for most of my childhood. It was a lonely place for a child who had only a sour old lady for company. I must have explored nearly every rock on that mountain. I made of game of watching the Centaurs without being seen. I didn't realize at the time that it was very good practice for my wind abilities." Esen was babbling, but he couldn't stop. "I was there for nearly ten years, and they only caught me twice."

  "Why in the name of the First would a child be sent to that remote region to live practically alone, and for ten years?" Gaston asked.

  Esen laughed at the incredulous tone. "I was a sickly child, and the mountain air was supposed to be good for me. It seems to be true because though I'll always be slight, I am healthy now."

  "But ten years?" Esen could just see Gaston shake his head.

  "They wanted me to remain there until I came into my wind or not," Esen replied, shrugging. "It was also a time of great upheaval, you know, and it was safer to leave me there." Easier, more than safer, but he kept the bitter comment back.

  Gaston was silent for a moment, but Esen knew a thinking silence when he heard it—so to speak, anyway. Finally, though, Gaston said, "So you know the region well? And the Centaur?"

  "I don't know them well, merely how to avoid being seen by them when I want to get close."

  "I see," Gaston said again, a note of finality to his voice. "An intriguing conversation, little Sylph. What is your name?"

  "Esen Nekane, sir."

  "Lord? Master?"

  "Only Esen, sir," Esen said quietly. The words hurt to say.

  "Mm," Gaston murmured. "Goodnight to you, little Sylph."

  He really wished Gaston would stop calling him 'little'. He was so very tired of being called that. But at least Gaston did not sound derisive. Esen bowed and murmured, "Goodnight."

  Gaston walked off, and Esen retreated to his bench once more, waiting until the hour grew late enough that he could finally retreat to his room. Three more days of enduring the counsel, and then he would be able to…

  He still had no answer for that problem, but he was a Sylph. There was always a wind to follow, no matter how lonely a wind it might be.

  *~*~*

  Esen was dithering between his spring green jacket with the yellow embroidery and the robin's egg blue with the mint green trim when a knock came at his door. Puzzled, because he had no manservant, no friends, and no appointments, he called for the knocker to enter.

  A footman entered, dressed in the deep blue of the queen's personal staff, and dipped into a low bow. "Master Esen, Her Majesty the Queen bids you visit her this morning at your earliest convenience."

  Dread filled Esen's stomach, ruining any possibility of filling it with a sweet roll and strong cup of tea. Why would the queen want to see him? That the footman had called him 'Master' Esen did not bode well, either.

  Had his family found some way to convince the queen to force him to marry? But no, the whole point of his marriage had been to gain the money and status that the Nekane family did not possess. There was no way his family had managed to capture the queen's ear on the matter, and he doubted she cared about the gossip either.

  So why? The only possible connection he had to the queen was his brief conversation with Gaston in the garden, and nothing he had said would merit an audience with the queen.

  Well, standing in his room would accomplish nothing. "I need only finish getting dressed and I will attend at once," Esen replied to the footman. "I apologize to Her Majesty for even that brief delay."

  The footman bowed again and slipped away. Esen looked at his beautiful jackets with their vibrant colors and sighed. One did not dress so to attend the queen. Oh, but he did hate somber colors. Putting the lovely jackets away, he pulled out one in a much more sedate dark green with modest dove gray trim and changed into matching gray breeches. At least his shoes, a matching gray with shiny silver buckles, had some life to them.

  He combed his shoulder length hair and bound it back with a dark green ribbon, then chose pearls for his ears and cravat pin. Giving his pretty jackets a last forlorn look, he left his accommodations and walked quickly through the open, sunshine-filled halls of the palace.

  When he reached the immense double doors that led to the queen's chambers—belatedly hoping she was in fact still in chambers—he bowed to the clerk at a desk and said, "I was told Her Majesty wished to see me."

  "Yes," the clerk said brusquely. "Go on in. She's in the breakfast room."

  Bowing again, Esen slipped through the doors as the guards opened them and walked down the hallway beyond, wondering how in the world he was supposed to know the location of the breakfast room.

  In the end, however, it was not so hard: it was the only room with guards at the door. Approaching them, Esen started to speak, but one of the guards opened the door and motioned him inside. He sought out the queen and obediently dropped to one knee, bowing his head.

  "Ah, Master Esen, thank you for coming," Queen Marga said. "Do please sit." He looked up and she motioned to a chair close to hers—and, he realized, directly across from Gaston.

  Esen tried not to stare, but it was hard not to steal surreptitious glances as he was served tea and a plate heaped with more food than he would be able to eat. Gaston was…like no one he had ever really seen before.

  His skin was golden from the sun, hair a few shades lighter, a riot of curls that he had made no real effort to tame. His left eye was that of a Satyr, deep yellow with a black, horizontal pupil. His right eye was reptilian, though he could not pin the exact Nature, with a vertical pupil that swirled with colors. Esen wondered how he saw—what he saw, when his two eyes were in direct opposition to each other.

  Of all things, Gaston had a spray of freckles across the bridge of his nose and the tops of his cheeks; they were odd on a face that was otherwise handsome in a severe, sharp way. His ears, when he brushed back a few stray curls, were pointed and lustrous…with scales, Esen realized in the next breath. They covered his ears, and there were patches of them on his throat and hands, as well.

  So he was half reptile, half Satyr? Yet that did not seem quite right, for the skin and color of his hair were unusual for either of those races. Well, it was hardly any of Esen’s business, even if Gaston made him squirm in a way no one ever had, not even his beautiful ex-fiancé.

  "Gaston tells me, Master Esen, that you know Mount Chiron well," Queen Marga said, her dragon eyes swirling with blues and purples that matched her vibrant scales, set off by her long, straight, bone-white hair.

  Esen nodded. "Yes, Your Majesty. I grew up there." He wanted to say more, but bit his tongue—quite literally—and drank more tea before the words came out anyway.

  Queen Marga's mouth twitched, as though fighting a smile, and she sat back in her seat. "It is not an area with which we are very familiar, though it pains me to admit that. Gaston suggested that you might serve as his guide."

  Surprise jolted through Esen, followed immediately by excitement. A reason to return to Chiron other than running there because he had nowhere else? Better still, something to do other than mope about a palace hiding and feeling sorry for himself? A journey, however brief, with a purpose? "Yes, Majesty, it would be an honor."

  "Splendid, I will leave the two of you to work out the details, then," Queen Marga said, and rose. He and Gaston both stood up with her and bowed low, not sitting again until she had left.

  Esen stared at his tea, then cautiously looked up—startling when he realized Gaston was staring at him. "Um—I've never been a guide before."

  Gaston laughed. "You're a map that speaks, instead of one I have to attempt to r
ead. You're also a Sylph, which in my experience means you're not afraid of hard travel. That is all I require, as long as you want to do it. A reluctant guide is of no use to me."

  "I want to help," Esen said, smiling. "I'm used to my babbling getting me in trouble, not bringing me good fortune. When do we leave? What exactly do you need me to do?"

  "We leave just as soon as we're packed, and that should be soon, though of course you have time to change. As to what exactly—I want the fastest route to the Centaurs, and I don't want them to be able to turn me away or throw me out lightly. If you're worried about danger—"

  "I can turn into wind, and Centaurs are not generally equipped to stop me," Esen cut in, then winced. "Apologies, I did not mean to interrupt."

  Gaston gestured dismissively. "Centaurs are strongly earth-elemental, though. Is that not what they say stops a Sylph's greatest strength—dragging it to earth? But I admit I know little of the nuances of the Elementals. My magical strengths lie elsewhere."

  Esen flinched at the familiar words. "Um. That belief comes from a mistranslation. The original phrase translates literally as 'Sylph only stay when pulled to the earth,' but a more accurate translation would be 'Sylph only stay when there is someone to ground them.' It's true we're vulnerable to earth magic, but that phrase is a…a romantic one. It just means what we need most is someone to draw us back, someone worth returning to the earth." He dropped his gaze to his tea, embarrassed for reasons he could not identify, and humiliated over the fallout with his family because that was what he had wanted.

  But no one had cared for his reasons. All they'd seen was that he was rejecting marriage to a person of impressive wealth and even more impressive connections, someone who would have made his family important again.

  All Esen had seen was a lifetime of misery, of making someone else miserable. He did want to live the empty life led by his parents and his brother. He would be of no help to anyone by piling on more of the misery that had ruined his family to begin with.

  He just wished someone had listened when he tried to explain that.