by Tara Grayce
One day mingling with a few members of the elven court, and Essie was already turning paranoid.
“I see.” Illyna’s mouth curved into a full—and what Essie hoped—was a genuine smile. “I heard Farrendel was called away and thought I should stop by. It seems it is a good thing I did.”
“Yes. Thank you.” Essie waved to the plush chairs behind them. “How long can you stay?”
“All afternoon, if you would like. I closed shop early.” Illyna took her bag from her shoulder and held it out in her hand. “I finished a small batch for you and for your family.”
“Thank you.” Essie took the bag and set it on the table. She had a feeling she was going to be thanking Illyna a lot that afternoon. She pulled out one of the jars with her name on it, popped off the lid, and sniffed. “It smells even better than it did in the shop.”
She sniffed again and closed her eyes to savor the smell. Floral with hints of a sugary sweet scent and a depth of vanilla underneath. This was the type of smell that would have her grabbing locks of her hair just to smell at random times during the day.
“My pleasure, especially for Farrendel’s wife.” Illyna sank onto one of the cushions. There was something to the way she said it. Not jealousy, like she had wanted Farrendel for herself. More the depth of appreciation of a good friend indebted to another, almost as if Illyna felt indebted to Farrendel.
Which was odd. If Essie had pieced the story together correctly the other day, Illyna had lost her hand rescuing Farrendel from the trolls. If anything, Farrendel was the one indebted to her, right?
Essie remembered the small shop in a small, nearly deserted alley. In the entire time she had spent in Illyna’s shop, no one else had entered.
As she mulled that over, Essie busied herself pulling china cups from one of the cupboards similar to the ones Leyleira had used when serving her. In the cold cupboard, she pulled out an orange colored juice and poured it into the china cups. Hopefully Illyna liked that particular flavor. It was the only one Farrendel had stocked at the moment, and Essie wasn’t sure how to go about getting more. Was she supposed to order food for herself and Farrendel directly from the market or was there a palace steward or butler that she was supposed to go to for requests like that?
Essie crossed the room carrying the two china cups and handed one to Illyna before she claimed a cushion facing Illyna. As much as Essie had enjoyed her time with Leyleira, that had been a test. A minor form of interrogation. This felt much more relaxed. Natural.
Perhaps that was why she felt bold enough to say, “Farrendel is one of your best customers, isn’t he?”
Illyna held up her right arm, waving it about as if to highlight the empty space where her hand should have been. “My missing hand sometimes makes others uncomfortable. It is harder to hide than most scars from the war. Farrendel helped me get the shop started, and word has gotten around to others who have been scarred by the war, and they are steady customers.”
Illyna’s shop must feel like a safe place for those who suffered disgusted looks wherever else they went.
“Then I am especially hoping your products take off in Escarland as I think they will. You’ll soon have to hire assistants if my estimation is correct.” Essie took a sip of her drink before setting it aside on an end table.
“I appreciate the attempt, even if it does not come to anything.”
If Essie knew anything of the ladies of the court in Escarland, it would, but she didn’t say that out loud. She didn’t want to build Illyna’s hopes up too high in case the ladies inexplicably didn’t clamor for the magical elven shampoo and conditioner.
Instead, she let herself fall into the easy rhythm of talking with Illyna. A faint glimmer of an idea was sparking in Essie’s head, but she didn’t voice it out loud. Not yet. She needed to talk with Farrendel to see if it was even possible or something that was needed.
By the time Illyna left with plans for them to meet in a week for another chat, Essie could confidently say she had one friend here in Estyra. And that helped curb the loneliness at least for that night.
FIVE DAYS AFTER Farrendel left, Essie ate a plate of some sort of thinly sliced venison over vegetables as yet another conversation in elvish flowed around her. She kept her smile in place and practiced picking out words she recognized.
She’d met with Leyleira on two more afternoons and spent another day with Illyna. Both times she worked on learning more elvish, though Illyna was the more patient teacher and Leyleira was...Essie wasn’t quite sure what she was. She still wasn’t entirely sure if Leyleira liked her or was constantly testing her.
Jalissa was another puzzle. At times she seemed to be warming to Essie and would even join with Leyleira in talking with Essie during these dinners. But other times she would glare along with Melantha as if to remind Essie that she was to be as invisible as possible until she quietly died off in a few decades.
The door to the dining room opened, but instead of servants with dessert, King Weylind strode inside. It was a weary sort of stride that apparently both human men and elf males got when gone too long from home and family.
And he was alone. Essie craned her neck and held her breath, but Farrendel didn’t follow him inside.
Was Farrendel hurt? Dead? Why wasn’t he with King Weylind? Had he remained behind at the border? Was the trolls’ incursion more than a mere raid?
Her heart hammered for answers but her body was frozen, her thoughts too jumbled to force herself to move.
Queen Rheva glided to her feet and gripped King Weylind’s upper arms. The largest show of expression an elf couple would do in public, as Essie was learning. King Weylind greeted his children, then the others around the table.
Jalissa asked a question that ended with Farrendel’s name, and King Weylind replied, also in elvish, without so much as a glance in Essie’s direction.
As if Farrendel’s wellbeing wasn’t her concern. As if she wasn’t his wife.
That surged strength into Essie’s legs and arms, and she was on her feet before she’d even consciously thought about moving. “Where is Farrendel? Is he all right?”
King Weylind finally looked in her direction, and the searching look in his eyes was something inherited from his grandmother. “He returned directly to his rooms.”
His rooms. Not their rooms. Farrendel’s wording or King Weylind’s?
King Weylind’s, Essie decided. There was too much undertone to them, as if Farrendel returning to his room was a foregone conclusion Essie ought to know and King Weylind was disgusted she didn’t.
Well, it wasn’t her fault she didn’t know all the secrets of this family yet. She’d been married to Farrendel for all of three days before he’d been called away. How was she supposed to anticipate everything about Farrendel after such a short time?
Why hadn’t Farrendel gone to the dining room with King Weylind? Didn’t he want to see Essie?
Unless he assumed she hadn’t gathered the courage to venture from their rooms yet. Maybe he had gone directly there because he was eager to see her?
Essie gathered her skirt and headed around the table for the door. She had to return there as quickly as possible.
Before she reached the door, her path was blocked by King Weylind. She tried to step around him, but he shifted into her way. A tall elf king with his arms crossed was a formidable block.
King Weylind’s dark gray eyes stabbed into her. “Give Farrendel space.”
The words might have been a friendly suggestion for a wife still figuring out her new husband except for the intensity. There was nothing friendly about King Weylind’s tone. It was a warning. A threat.
Essie would’ve been angry, except for the depth of love for his brother it showed. She lifted her chin and didn’t flinch away from King Weylind’s glare. “I know you care about Farrendel, and I do too. I will give him space if he wants space.”
King Weylind’s expression eased a fraction. Not that he looked friendly. But at least he didn’t l
ook like he wanted to wipe his boots off on her dress. “After a battle, Farrendel prefers space. Give him space.”
It wasn’t a warning this time. More an order.
Essie nodded, and this time when she took a step, King Weylind let her pass.
By this time, she was familiar enough with the way back to her and Farrendel’s rooms that she didn’t need a guide. She didn’t even flinch crossing the last four-foot-wide branch to get to the main room.
All three rooms were dark when she arrived. The main room didn’t even look disturbed, yet there was something about it. That indefinable sense that a place had when it was lived in instead of when it was empty and hollow.
What she really wanted to do was track Farrendel down, give him a hug, and tell him exactly how much she’d missed him.
Farrendel’s room was dark, and after King Weylind’s warning, Essie didn’t dare knock on his door tonight, much as she wanted to. Instead, with one last glance in that direction, she retreated to her own room, dressed in her sleeping shirt and pants, and crawled into bed.
For a moment, she lay in bed, blinking at the twisting vines and leaves carved into the ceiling and barely visible in the hint of moonlight penetrating the broad leaves of Ellonahshinel. What woke her? She normally slept deep. Too deep to wake for anything minor.
Then a noise rose above the stillness of the night. Not quite a scream. A cry. Muffled, but distinct. Not an animal noise. It was far too human—or elven. After a moment, it faded into silence.
Essie sat up. Had that been Farrendel? If that had been a nightmare, it must be some nightmare for her to hear him crying out in his sleep all the way in her room a whole branch away.
What was she supposed to do? She waited, her breaths held tight in her chest as she listened, her head cocked toward his room. But after several long minutes, no more sounds drifted on the still night.
Did that mean Farrendel was awake? King Weylind had warned her to give Farrendel space, but did that also mean during nightmares? She didn’t think King Weylind’s warning had been for her safety though she could see that waking Farrendel—Laesornysh—could be dangerous.
But if he was awake? Would he appreciate company?
She was his wife, and he shouldn’t suffer through nightmares alone. Easing out of bed, she padded across her room, down the stairs, through the main room, and back up the stairs to Farrendel’s room.
At the door, she drew in a deep breath. She could do this. Raising her hand, she knocked firmly on the door.
She waited for a long moment but didn’t hear anything from inside. Should she knock again? Was Farrendel lying in bed hoping she’d just go away if he ignored her?
Perhaps she should leave. King Weylind knew Farrendel better than she did, and he’d said to leave Farrendel alone tonight.
But that aching cry was still echoing in her ears, and she couldn’t leave Farrendel to face a night of terrors like that by himself. It wasn’t right. She had to at least tell him she was here for him even if he turned her away.
She knocked on the door again. “Farrendel?”
The room behind the door remained silent. Was he even in there? Or had he gone off to some hidden spot among the tree branches? She didn’t know him well enough to know where he’d retreat, what he was hiding from, or if he’d want her company. Were nightmares like this usual after a battle? What had happened?
Without so much as a footstep or a creak of floorboards to give warning, the door whisked open, and Farrendel stood there, barefoot, wearing a rumpled pants and shirt, the collar open to show a V of skin. His hair, even after rolling out of bed after a nightmare, was perfect, flowing in silvery cascades across his shoulders and back, not a hair out of place or frizzing above his head.
Even magical elven conditioner probably couldn’t pull off such a feat with Essie’s hair.
“Your brother said to give you space, and I was going to, but you cried out in your sleep loud enough I could hear it in my room, and I wanted to make sure you were all right and if I could do anything to help, even if it’s just sit with you for a while if you don’t want to go to sleep again right away. But if you want space, that’s fine too. I’ll go back to my room and let you have space if that’s what you need right now. I understand.” Essie snapped her mouth shut against more babbling.
Before her, Farrendel was as still as stone, one hand braced against the door frame. Was he wishing she would just be quiet and leave? Or did he want her there?
Her heart pinched with missing him and ached for the light moments they’d had in Estyra before he’d left.
She glanced up and caught a glimpse of something in his eyes before he looked away. The hardness there was brittle, a thin veneer to hide the shaking underneath. His hand on the doorframe wasn’t casual but a prop to hold himself upright. His body was too rigid, as if only his willpower was keeping him from breaking.
If he’d been a human, he would’ve been in desperate need of a hug.
Essie eased a couple of inches closer, moving slowly as if he was a wild animal she didn’t want to spook. She wasn’t sure what would happen if she moved too fast, too boldly. “Would it be all right if I hugged you?”
If she’d thought him still before, now he was still as a breathless morning. For one heartbeat, then two, he didn’t move. Didn’t so much as breathe. Then his head tipped in his shallow nod, the movement shifting his hair to reveal the points of his ears.
At least it was a nod. Essie closed the last few inches between them and brought her arms around him slowly, carefully, as if he’d bolt if she moved with the giddy sureness she had in her hugs with her family.
As she wrapped her arms around him and pressed her palms against his back, it struck her just how small he felt. He wasn’t much bigger around than she was, though he was all hard muscles where she was softer and curvier.
The ends of his hair brushed her hands, and it took all her self-control to refrain from running her fingers through the strands. Somehow, she got a feeling that might be something that would spook him.
He held perfectly still. Not pulling away, but not leaning into the hug or putting his arms around her. Maybe he didn’t know how to respond to a hug. Maybe he was doing his best to tolerate this very un-elf-like close physical contact between two barely-not-strangers, for all they were married.
She rested her head against his chest. As he’d been gone fighting trolls, she’d almost expected him to smell of sweat and blood and death, but instead his clothes, his hair, smelled of a minty, forest scent she’d couldn’t fully place. Not as sharp as pine or with the depth of cedar. Not really the scent of an individual tree she could name. More the fresh, living scent a whole forest had.
She knew what she needed to tell him. She wasn’t sure what difference it would make in this moment, but it was what he needed to hear. “I missed you while you were gone.”
With a puff of a released breath against her hair, Farrendel relaxed. Just a fraction, but enough for her to feel the hint of a tremble in him.
As much as Essie wanted to stay like that, her head resting against his chest, her arms around him, this moment was for him, not for her. There would be other moments, ones when he was less hurting, when she could pause and enjoy.
She pulled back just enough to rest her hand on his chest over his heart where she’d drawn the elvish symbol at their elven wedding. She couldn’t meet his gaze and instead focused on her hand pressed against the white of his shirt. “I don’t know all your reasons for asking your family give you space after a battle like this, but I understand there are some parts of ourselves that we can’t show even our families. But you don’t have to hide anything from me. I don’t fully understand all the implications of the elven marriage vows we spoke, but they are similar enough to the human ones that I know that in marriage our hearts are linked. That means when you are hurting, I’m hurting. When you need help, I’m here to help. If you want space, I’ll give you space. But please know you don’t have to be alo
ne. I’m here for you.”
Now she was the one holding still, holding her breath, waiting, wondering.
Farrendel remained still, almost frozen. Then his hand reached out and clasped her free one. He raised his silver-blue gaze to meet hers. “Do not leave.”
The words were spoken as if they cost him dearly.
Essie glanced past his shoulder to the darkness of his room beyond. Did he mean stay here? In his room? Even if they did nothing besides talk, she wasn’t sure she was ready for something that close and personal yet.
She gripped his hand to make sure he knew she wasn’t contradicting what she’d just said and took a step away from him, back the way she’d come. “Why don’t we go to the main room and just talk for a while?”
He gave her that tiny nod again, and something about that nod felt like the deepest sort of trust.
Essie led the way down the stairs to the main room, still clasping Farrendel’s hand. The moment was déjà vu of their first night there, except this time it was Essie leading the way across the elven handrail-less stairs with sure steps.
If Essie had been in Winstead Palace, she would’ve sneaked into the kitchen to fetch him a hot drink. Her favorite hot chocolate, perhaps.
But elves built all their cook fires on the ground, and Essie had yet to see any magic used to heat food or drinks in the upper stories of the treetops. Instead, Essie let go of Farrendel’s hand as the door to the main room closed behind them and headed for the cold cupboard, picking her way across the room in the dark. “Would you like a drink? Water? Juice?”
“Water?” The inflection in his voice was part question, part a plea.
After living here the past few days, Essie was familiar enough with the cupboards and room to fumble her way through finding the cups, fetching the jug of cold water from the chilled cupboard, and pouring a glass for Farrendel with only the stars above the dense foliage for light.