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    Stormfront (Fellfire Summer Short Story #1)
    Stormfront (Fellfire Summer Short Story #1)
    Stormfront (Fellfire Summer Short Story #1)
    Ebook39 pages35 minutes

    Stormfront (Fellfire Summer Short Story #1)

    By Blayre Delecour

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    About this ebook

    Alaric and Everet have begun their journey across the desolate Oresian plains back to the border, where they'll continue on to the Vasque Capitole to meet with Veld Martiale Hadryan. But issues more personal and pressing than a stalled treaty and the Holds' futures must first be addressed, and as the fury of a coming storm begins to mount, so too do the tension and uncertainty between the pair.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBlayre Delecour
    Release dateOct 24, 2015
    ISBN9781310575082
    Stormfront (Fellfire Summer Short Story #1)
    Author

    Blayre Delecour

    Just a M/M fantasy enthusiast who, after being inspired by so many great stories and playing in others' sandboxes for ages, finally decided to add her own worlds and characters to the melting pot. She lives in a tiny high-rise in Tokyo with the world's cutest and fluffiest cat-shaped distraction.

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      Book preview

      Stormfront (Fellfire Summer Short Story #1) - Blayre Delecour

      STORMFRONT

      Fellfire Summer Short Story #1

      Blayre Delecour

      Copyright © 2015 Blayre Delecour

      All rights reserved.

      This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

      No part of this publication may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author. This book is free-to-share but may not be redistributed through any means, print or electronic, for-profit without permission from the author.

      STORMFRONT

      ​Hold up, my dear—these breeches are riding up and it’s most unpleasant.

      For the third time since they’d broken camp that morning, Alaric was forced to give a meaningful tug on the reins of his mount and wait for his tagalong to make some adjustment or another that would only serve to put them further behind schedule. First, Everet had needed to remove his coat, evidently finding the temperature at the surface far warmer than he’d expected once the sun peaked in the sky. Then, he’d insisted they stop so he could relieve himself, protesting that the waterskin he’d drained during their midday meal had surely been laced with roselle or hawthorn, or else that riding didn’t agree with his bladder. And now, here they were, stopped again so Everet could adjust his bottoms, because he insisted on wearing a silk blend for an overland trek rather than something made of a more sensible material like doeskin.

      He clucked his tongue, turning his cremello in a tight circle to saunter back alongside Everet’s isabelline—a fine set of sister mounts gifted to them by the Layton mayor for their long journey back to Vasque. Alaric had been skeptical at first as to the dainty animals’ ability to carry both riders and full packs the whole way back, but the beasts charged forward unerringly and seemingly tirelessly, like homing pigeons arrowing back for their roost. He had half a mind, once they reached the Capitole, to leave his old warhorse to the verdant pastures the stallion had been turned out to and let this lady he was perched atop ferry him to and fro instead.

      "Don’t you own horses? How is it you seem like you’ve never sat a saddle in your life? He nodded at Everet’s boots. Look, you’re not even hooked properly into the stirrups."

      Because— Everet grunted, shifting in place as he tugged at the material hugging his thighs, "My rare rides measured the length of the Hold and back, perhaps half a bell at most. I haven’t been gallivanting across the continent like some members of our party."

      "Well as I said, you’d have a much easier time of it if you didn’t insist on dressing like you’re heading to high tea when we’ve got at least another four, five days of

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