Bonus Short: Orlith Tries to Seduce Wyn

A little 1k word short of an interaction between Wyn and Orlith, long before Danny is in existence! (Note: Orlith is another telyth – Wyn’s species – who makes an appearance in the novella Wyn.)

Content warnings: Adult themes, bad language, mentions of violence, Wyn pushing his stabby agenda (on himself by accident)

Spoiler warning: Set way before the events of any of the books, but probably best read after the novella Wyn, when Orlith is introduced

Around 500 years ago…


My shoulders hunched up instinctively when I heard that grating voice. Mine was possibly more distorted than his, but somehow, Orlith’s was just… worse.

“You can’t just come into my nest,” I muttered, not bothering to look up from where I was sitting on my thick pallet of furs and old, heavy fabrics. I continued carefully sewing up the rip in my shirt. “Next time I might kill you if you startle me.”

Orlith snorted, sweeping across the smooth stone ground—literally sweeping. When I reluctantly glanced up, I saw that over his plain black clothes, he was wearing a long, deep red cloak embellished with gold thread and edged in thick grey fur. It trailed behind him over the ground, and I noticed him glance back to make sure it fanned out properly as he approached.

Utter dread filling my belly, I realised there was a second cloak draped over his arm. Choosing to ignore it, I lowered my head and resumed sewing.

“As if I could startle you,” he drawled. “You felt me coming when I was still miles away.”

Instead of answering that, I asked, “What the fuck are you wearing,” without inflection.

My eye twitched when Orlith lowered himself to the ground opposite me, carefully arranging his cloak to make sure it draped in heavy folds around him in the most flattering manner possible.

“Do you like it?” he asked airily, running blackened fingers over the burgundy velvet. “I got you one as well. That oaf Henry won’t miss them. He’s too busy fucking his newest wife.”

I grunted in response, refusing to look up at him.

After a pause, Orlith added, “He cut the last one’s head off.”

I said nothing.

“Humans are very strange,” Orlith said.

My eye twitched again. I stabbed the needle too forcefully through the shirt fabric, causing the tip to sink straight into my finger. Yanking it back out, I pulled the thread through so hard it nearly snapped.

“You are only now discovering this?” I snarked, quickly tying off the thread and raising the fabric to cut off the excess with my teeth.

Orlith let out an exasperated sound. “Obviously not. I was just trying to make conversation.”

From the corner of my eye, I could see him examining his fingernails, lounging back on one elbow across some of my furs. Glancing up through my eyelashes, I realised his black shirt was unbuttoned all the way down to his navel, and his neck was weighed down by a ridiculous number of thick gold chains and diamond-studded necklaces.

Gold and diamond-encrusted rings were stacked on every finger. He had wound thin, delicate gold chains around his horns and draped them over the double prongs. Even his fucking boots had gold tips.

I despised the low throb of arousal that pulsed through me at the sight of him, in all his pompous, regal glory. Fucking Orlith.

He smirked at me, as if he knew what I was thinking. I hissed back.

Tearing my gaze away from his purposefully tousled white hair, I jerkily folded my spare shirt up and put away my sewing supplies in their designated box—dark wood with rusted hinges, it was made by the salyiks further north, back when they had a flourishing trade in jewellery and finely crafted goods. A very, very long time ago now.

“Try on the cloak,” Orlith said, thrusting the draping bundle of royal blue fabric toward me.

My lip curled as I eyed the white, speckled fur edging. “Fuck off.”

“That coat is vile, Wyn. You’ve had it for eons. You need to replace it.” Orlith held up the cloak again. “What better a replacement than a king’s cloak?”

“You really came all this way to give me a cloak,” I said flatly.

Orlith’s silver eye flashed, his pinprick pupil roaming over my frame. Arousal flared again, making me grit my teeth with irritation.

“No,” he drawled, thankfully letting the ridiculous cloak fall to the ground. My gut clenched with a mix of annoyance and anticipation. “I came all this way to ask if you wanted to fuck, obviously.”

My jaw muscle ticked as I tried very hard to push back the images threatening to crowd my brain, of the last time Orlith showed up with this exact proposition.

I couldn’t give in again. He was getting too needy. Too… clingy. I shuddered. I couldn’t imagine wanting to spend all my time with another. Especially one as young and naïve as Orlith.

“No.” I sniffed and looked away. “I don’t want to fuck.”

“Liar.” Orlith let his elbow drop and rolled languidly onto his back, stretching out all his long limbs, his shirt falling open to reveal more of his pale chest and sternum. His knees dropped open wide, hips arching for just a second in his ludicrous interpretation of a stretch. It was a move clearly designed to try and tempt me.

And the fact that it was working made me want to stab something.

“We’re not fucking again, Orlith.” I forced myself to look away from the telyth practically presenting himself to me like an animal in heat.

He paused. “Why not?” His tone was utterly offended.

“Because I like being on my own and you keep fucking bothering me.”

“You didn’t seem to mind me bothering you when I was making you—”

“Orlith,” I seethed. “We’re not fucking. You can’t just come into my nest whenever you want.”

There was silence for a long moment. Then Orlith sat up in a rush, huffing dramatically and gathering up the heavy fabric of his cloak to stand.

“Fine,” he snapped. “Your loss, you decrepit swine.”

Before he could vanish into smoke, I said, “Take your other cloak, Orlith.”

“Keep it,” he barked, sniffing and turning his nose up at me. “I’d hate to leave you here in this poverty without anything decent. By the mabs, your nest is so depressing. Besides, blue isn’t my colour.”

With that, oily black smoke curled up into the air, taking Orlith’s ridiculous cloak and all his stupid jewellery and his infuriatingly perfect face with him.

Copyright 2022 by Lily Mayne

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