by Tara Grayce
“And then there was the time Julien and Edmund decided to steal Avie’s crown and see how long it would take him to notice it was missing.” Essie paused to draw in a breath, but her stomach grumbled and gurgled. Had Farrendel heard?
He pushed to his feet. When she moved to stand as well, he shook his head. “Stay.”
Essie settled back on her cushion. It wasn’t a command, necessarily. More a please, you don’t have to get up request.
She continued telling the story while Farrendel took food from the chilled cupboard. He returned a few moments later and held out a wooden cup and a plate piled with bread and what looked like some kind of cold meat and vegetable mash.
There was something to that gentle kindness in seeing to her needs before his. Perhaps he was being extra nice since this was the day after their wedding. Maybe she was reading more into his gesture than there really was.
But she wanted to believe he was the gentle, thoughtful sort of man—well, elf—that she was seeing now. Kind. Quiet. She could work with that easily enough.
Even though her stomach rumbled, she didn’t dig into the food and instead set to work using the fork to move some of the meat and vegetables onto a corner of the bread while she waited for Farrendel to spoon his own food onto a plate. He moved with a graceful efficiency, telling her he was used to taking care of his own meals. Did the royal elves not have servants see to their personal quarters the way royalty in the human nations, including Escarland, did?
Perhaps, with their lower population, the elves didn’t have a large enough workforce to employ an excess of servants to do every menial task. Or maybe the elves were simply so independent that they wouldn’t want servants to do that for them, even if the option were available.
From what Essie had seen as they’d strolled through Estyra, the elven royalty didn’t stand with as much ceremony as royalty in Escarland did. For as much as the elves had a reputation toward traditionalism and stuffiness, they had, at times, less rigidity.
Farrendel returned to his seat across from her, eyed her plate, then glanced at her. “Is it not to your liking?”
Maybe she was reading too much into the tone of his voice, but he almost sounded worried. She smiled. “I don’t know. I haven’t tried it yet. I was waiting for you.”
“Why?”
“It’s considered polite to wait until everyone has their food before you start eating. Is that not how it works here?” Essie speared the bite of bread and meat with her fork and popped it in her mouth. Maybe if he saw her mouth was full, he’d give her a longer answer.
“No, we wait for formal meals.” Farrendel paused, as if he was trying to figure out what he wanted to say. “You were hungry. You did not have to wait.”
She finished chewing, trying to figure out what he was trying to tell her. Was he saying this was informal so she didn’t have to wait? Or that he would’ve understood if she’d gone ahead and started eating since her stomach was raucously growling? Or possibly that he didn’t want her to feel like she needed to be stiff and formal around him?
In the end, she settled for a simple, “I know.”
That seemed to satisfy him. Their conversation died away as they ate, her piling the meat and vegetables on her bread and Farrendel carefully keeping the meat and vegetables from so much as touching his bread. Essie wasn’t sure if all elves didn’t like their food touching or if it was just Farrendel’s quirk.
Once she had finished, she set her plate aside. So far, she’d kept the conversation light. But there was one question she’d been itching to ask. He might not give her an answer. She wouldn’t know if it was the truth even if he did.
But she needed to ask.
Something in her posture must have given away the seriousness of her question because Farrendel stiffened, the look in his eyes back to that wary, about-to-run look he’d had that morning.
“Why did you agree to this marriage alliance?” Essie studied his face, trying to read his reaction. “You didn’t have any warning it was coming. I, at least, knew earlier that ending up married to an elf was a possibility, but a marriage alliance to a human wasn’t in your plans, I don’t think. So why agree to it? More than that, why talk your brother into it?”
Farrendel didn’t meet her gaze. “My people need peace with your people.”
“Yes, I know.” There was probably something deeper that Essie didn’t know about yet that was fueling that desperation. But that wasn’t what she wanted to know. Not right now, anyway. “But why would you agree to a marriage alliance so quickly? You could have tried to talk your brother into marrying one of your sisters to one of my brothers instead. You didn’t have to marry me if you hadn’t wanted to.”
“Better me than my sisters.” Farrendel’s shoulders slumped a fraction, his head ducked so she couldn’t see his expression.
Well, she had pushed. So she really didn’t have an excuse if that came off as mildly insulting. Better if she focused on the fact that Farrendel was self-sacrificial and not that it was considered a sacrifice for him to have to marry her.
“I see.” She tried to keep the disappointment from her voice. She didn’t even know why she felt hurt. She’d known they’d only married for political reasons. Why had she even been hoping there had been something more to Farrendel’s quick agreement to the marriage alliance?
Perhaps some of her hurt came through in her voice. Farrendel met her gaze. His expression held something she couldn’t quite name. Vulnerable. More open. “But not only that.”
She waited, holding her breath as Farrendel’s gaze searched her face.
He gestured to her. “Your smile. No one else was smiling. They were looking at each other as enemies. But you smiled, as if we were people you were happy to meet.”
She’d smiled? She honestly couldn’t remember doing it. But, she was always smiling. She purposely tried to go through life smiling and happy. If she could brighten someone’s day with a smile, she might as well do it.
Farrendel ducked his head. “I thought that marriage to someone like that would not be miserable.”
Not miserable was a good start. But she sensed he meant more than that. She reached out and rested a hand on one of his. “I hope for much more than not miserable.”
“Yes.” Farrendel didn’t take her hand, but at least he didn’t pull away. He glanced back to her. “Why did you agree to this arranged marriage?”
It was only fair if she was just as vulnerable as he had been a few moments earlier. “Actually, I kind of suggested it. It started off as a joke, sort of. I was somewhat serious when I said it. Avie decided to use it as an opening gambit, but then you agreed, and I found I was glad you did. Marrying you and coming here has been the best opportunity for an adventure I’ve ever had. And, I’ve always been fascinated by your people and your culture. I read every book our library had on elves. I studied your language as best I could. I can read some elvish, but I can only understand a few spoken words. I’ll have to work on that.”
“I will help.”
“Thanks.” It would be nice to be able to understand the elvish conversations around her. “What was your plan going into that diplomatic meeting?”
He gave her something that was almost a smile. “We planned to agree to almost anything your people suggested. We expected a ceasefire treaty and perhaps an exclusive trade deal. Maybe even exchanging hostages. Marriage was a surprise.”
The elves were desperate. Why? What would drive them to be willing to walk into a diplomatic meeting ready to agree to nearly anything Avie suggested?
Essie shook the darker thoughts away. She would figure out the reason eventually. Today was about her and Farrendel. She grinned and leaned forward. “Well, let’s not tell my brother that. He will be disappointed that he could’ve gotten peace with a whole lot less than marrying me off. But, I’m glad this is the end result.”
Farrendel gave her his hint of a smile in return.
THE NEXT MORNING, after Essie figured out the elv
en water spigot for washing and used some of what she hoped was the magical elven shampoo on her hair, she dressed in a dark blue tunic over a white shirt and dark gray pants.
She studied herself in the flawless mirror. Since she and Farrendel were going into Estyra today, she needed to look her best. Like a princess worthy of the younger elven prince.
Would she disappoint the other elves no matter what she looked like? More importantly, would she disappoint Farrendel? That’s what really mattered. More than it should, considering she’d only known him for a few days.
But she was married to him. He should mean something to her, and that meaning would, hopefully, only deepen in time. It already had, after spending yesterday talking.
Essie ran her hand through her hair one more time. Was it softer and shinier than it had been before? At least it seemed less frizzy, even if the elven shampoo smelled like grass. A decent scent, but not something she was thrilled about smelling on her hair all day. For nicer hair, it was worth it. She turned away from the mirror and headed for the door.
After navigating down the staircase, through the main room, and up the stairs to Farrendel’s room, she raised her hand to knock, but the door opened. Her hand was already in motion, swinging to knock on the door that was no longer there, headed right for Farrendel’s nose.
Farrendel was a blur of movement as he ducked and grabbed her hand, stopping her fist. There was an undefinable crackle in the air.
“I’m sorry.” Essie yanked her hand back. Was that magic she was sensing? “I was about to knock, then you opened the door, and...”
Farrendel let out a breath and lowered his hand. The crackle dissipated so quickly, Essie couldn’t be entirely sure it had been there in the first place. But the look in his eyes...Essie wasn’t sure what memories she’d triggered, but she didn’t want to do it again.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean...” Essie shook her head. The way he was pulling himself together, he didn’t want to talk about it. She put on a smile. “I’m ready to visit Estyra if you are.”
“Yes.” Farrendel stepped from his room and led the way around the perimeter walkway. He wore a dark green tunic, a light green shirt, and dark gray pants the same color as Essie’s. His long, silver-blond hair flowed down his back past his shoulders.
Essie had to curl her fingers to keep from touching his hair. Hopefully continued use of the elven shampoo would do wonders for her hair. She would put up with smelling like grass if her hair would flow and shimmer like that.
At the back of Farrendel’s room, a short, swinging rope bridge—thankfully including handropes—led to a platform ringing a branch. As they approached, Essie spotted what looked like a small gazebo with a thick rope attached at the top. The rope looped over a pulley system on a higher branch while the long, trailing end coiled inside the lift.
“It’s a lift.” Essie hurried over to it, though she didn’t get in. “We have a few similar lifts in Escarland, but ours are usually operated by a hand crank. There was some talk that an inventor was trying to figure out a way to power it with steam.”
Farrendel stepped into the lift, untied it, and gripped the rope to lower them down. Essie hopped inside and leaned against the lift’s railing as Farrendel lowered them hand over hand. Safe inside the lift, she could appreciate the beauty of the verdant green surrounding her, from the broad leaves to the patches of the thick grass she could occasionally glimpse far below. The branches spread far into the distance, twining in and out of each other.
“We don’t have trees like this.” Essie gazed first up as far as she could see, then back down toward the ground, still a couple hundred feet below. “How do they grow this big? Even the trees that aren’t cut down usually die before they grow like this.”
“Magic.” Farrendel wasn’t even out of breath as he worked the rope to lower the lift.
“I heard elves worked magic on plants, but I didn’t realize it was to this level.” Essie tore her gaze from the trees to look at Farrendel. “Do all elves have plant magic?”
“No, but it is the most common.” Farrendel wasn’t looking at her.
There was something about it. Essie studied him. He’d said just magic earlier. Not our magic as might have been expected. Almost as if he didn’t have magic, but she was nearly positive that crackle she’d felt earlier had been magic. Perhaps he didn’t have plant magic. He had a different kind of magic. A kind that was uncommon for the elves, perhaps?
It wasn’t time to ask yet. This seemed to be another thing Farrendel kept close, and Essie wasn’t going to pry. Today she just wanted to enjoy the city and hope that the day would continue to deepen Farrendel’s budding trust in her. At least, she hoped he was beginning to trust her.
About thirty feet above the ground, the lift settled onto another platform. Farrendel tied off the rope, walked to the edge of the platform, and tossed a rope ladder to the ground. A thin rope connected to the bottom of the ladder.
Essie grimaced. “I knew it was too good to be true that we’d be taking this nice, safe lift all the way to the ground.”
“I will go first.” Farrendel swung over the edge of the platform and descended the rope ladder.
Essie drew in a deep breath. At least this was better than facing Farrendel’s family and walking across those handrail-less branches. And she was wearing one of the elven style trousers, shirt, and tunic. This would have been impossible—not to mention scandalous—if she’d been wearing one of her old dresses.
On her hands and knees, she crawled to the edge, turned around, and eased her foot down, feeling for the ladder. There was nothing to grip with her hands. There was nothing for it but to reach down and grab the ladder with one hand, nearly folding herself in half with her feet on the first rung. Gritting her teeth, she dropped from the platform.
Her body weight yanked on her arm and she scrambled for the rope with her other hand. The rope ladder swung wildly, and she struggled to keep her feet in contact with the rungs.
After a few seconds, the rope steadied. Essie forced herself to move one foot and one hand at a time. A glimpse of the ground showed her that Farrendel was already on the ground. Probably tapping his foot impatiently at how slowly his unathletic, human wife was navigating the ladder.
If this was one of the romance novels she’d read from the palace library, then she would’ve caught her foot in the ladder, given a small, adorable shriek, and fallen backwards, only to be caught by Farrendel’s strong arms.
Instead, she made it to the ground without mishap. She might not be athletic, but she didn’t manage to be charmingly clumsy either. Just average. Nothing stunning to attract a handsome elf besides the fact that he was stuck with her and didn’t have much of a choice but to tolerate her.
No, she wasn’t going to let that train of thought continue. She shook herself just in time to notice that Farrendel had taken down the end of a thin rope and was pulling on it. The rope ran over a pulley and lifted the rope ladder off the ground until it hung twenty feet off the ground. Farrendel tied the end of the rope high in a tree branch where the leaves obscured it from sight.
He turned to her. “Security.”
“I guess you wouldn’t want to leave a back door open, even for a small trip into Estyra.” Essie fell into step next to him. Did she dare ask her next question? “How is this going to go once we reach Estyra? Are we going to pretend to be a blissfully happy couple? Or walk around like we’re still awkward with each other?”
“Elves do not lie.” Farrendel didn’t glance at her. At least, not a glance she managed to catch.
“It’s not a lie. At least, I don’t think it is.” Essie focused on the ground as she thought of how to phrase it. “But there’s the truth that you show to other people and the deeper truth that only you know. It’s true that, for a marriage of alliance arranged on such short notice, we’re doing really well. And, I’m optimistic that we will be blissfully happy eventually, considering you find me humorous, and I adore your battle sca
rs. Yes, it’s also true that we’re still awkward and getting to know each other, and I don’t know what you’re thinking most of the time, but I’m not sure that is a truth everyone else needs to know. Does that make sense?”
“Yes.” This time, Essie for sure saw a flick of Farrendel’s eyes in her direction. “My family will hear about our trip to Estyra.”
“Rumors travel fast around here, I take it. It would be best if they believed we are happy. You are happy, right? Or, at least, you said you don’t regret marrying me.” Essie grimaced. She should’ve swallowed back those words before they popped out. She sounded so shallow, always harping on him trying to get him to admit he was all right with this arranged marriage. She kept going before he felt the need to answer. “In Escarland, a newlywed couple often holds hands in public. It shows everyone they are disgustingly happy together. Do elves hold hands?”
“Yes.” Farrendel halted and half turned in her direction. He reached for her hand but halted a few inches short, as if he didn’t dare touch her, not even her hand.
Essie sent him a small smile and clasped his hand, threading her fingers through his. He didn’t close his fingers over hers, his fingers staying limp as if he wasn’t sure what to do. “This is how we humans hold hands.”
Farrendel slipped his hand free from hers.
Essie forced her smile to stay in place, even as her stomach twisted. For a moment, she’d thought they were making progress. She couldn’t say why, but it was important to hold his hand. Take a step toward trusting him and him trusting her.
Then he twined his first two fingers with hers so that the backs of their hands were pressed together. “This is how we elves hold hands.”
Essie couldn’t help the grin that bloomed on her face. Clasping Farrendel’s fingers, she fell into step with him as they strolled through the forest.
Within a few minutes, the outskirts of Estyra came into sight and hearing. Even though it was the elves’ largest city, the bustle wasn’t as loud or crowded as even a back street in Aldon. Estyra had a calm, leisurely pace and air to it. Essie shrugged. Probably had to do with the elves’ long lives. Taking a few extra minutes to get from one place to another seemed like less of a waste compared to a life of several hundred years instead of a few decades.