by Tara Grayce
“Yes, but, for the most part, he uses his great powers of observation and sneakiness for good, though he does enjoy annoying his younger siblings. As my husband, I think you now fall into that category.” Essie glared at Edmund’s retreating back. In the past three days since realizing they had formed a heart bond, Essie’s elvish had improved even faster than it had before. That meant up until a few days ago, Edmund had probably been better at elvish than she was, and she had been working at it for months.
Essie switched back to Escarlish as Julien took Edmund’s place with silent footsteps that almost seemed out of place for such a tall, large man. “My brother Julien. He’s in the army.”
Of all her brothers, Julien looked the most like the portraits of her father that still hung in many places around the palace. Broad shoulders, a round face, soulful deep brown eyes set in deep sockets. He was the quietest of her three brothers, but when he spoke, others listened. His wisdom and strategic insight had promoted him through the army ranks despite his title.
Farrendel had to reach up to grip his shoulders. “Shashon.”
Julien patted Farrendel’s back, making Farrendel stumble. “Come to the training yard for a sparring match while you’re here.”
Her brother’s way of saying, Let’s see how good you really are and if the Laesornysh legends are true.
Essie wasn’t sure she wanted to see a match between Julien and Farrendel. Even if Farrendel didn’t use his magic, he was deadly. Did he even know how to fight in a match that wasn’t to the death?
Julien stepped back, leaving Mother the one family member still to be properly introduced.
Essie smiled. “And this is my mother.”
Mother wore a soft smile as she also hugged Farrendel. He didn’t stiffen as much with her as he had with Paige, though he didn’t return the hug. When he clasped Mother’s shoulders in the elf version of a hug, his voice had a raspy, almost choked sound to it. “Mamasha.”
Mother. Now Essie had a lump in her throat. Farrendel had never had a mother before. Not one he had met in person to address like this.
Essie’s mother wouldn’t even recognize the word or know the depth of what it meant to Farrendel to say it.
Perhaps Mother did sense something of it or heard it in his voice. Her smile and expression softened still more. “Welcome to the family.”
ESSIE DRAGGED Farrendel away from her family greeting party before they could think to ask awkward questions about where to stash Farrendel at night. She was just going to haul him to her room as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
Except, when she stood in front of her door in the family wing of the castle, she had to pause to take a breath. Her life had changed so drastically the moment Farrendel had come into it. She loved her new life. Her new room in the elven palace. The routines she’d built with Farrendel over their three months of marriage.
But taking him into her old room here in Winstead Palace was such a clash of her old life and new. As if Farrendel didn’t quite belong in that room.
Nonsense. That was the wrong way to look at it. Once she invited him inside, there wouldn’t be a clash of her previous life and her life as a princess of the elves.
Gripping Farrendel’s hand, Essie pushed the door open and stepped inside.
After the sparse quarters that even the royal elves had, her sumptuous suite of rooms was almost a shock. Plush rugs covered the floor. Wood paneling and plaster hid the stone walls with landscape paintings over the soft rose-colored paint. A settee and several padded chairs filled the sitting room while a door next to the fireplace led to the bedroom.
A small bookshelf along one wall held her favorite books and mementos. A set of bookends Averett had given her. A scrap book with items she’d collected on trips throughout Escarland. A porcelain doll that was one of the few gifts her father had given her before he’d been killed.
This room remained just how she’d left it that day when she’d joined Averett on his diplomatic mission to the elves of Tarenhiel. A book sat on one of the marble-topped tables, a velvet ribbon sticking out of the pages. A blanket crumpled on her favorite chair where she’d pushed it off without bothering to fold it or put it away. The servants must have cleaned in here since the surfaces lacked dust, but they hadn’t touched anything else.
Farrendel’s face remained impassive while he glanced around. Essie would’ve given anything to know what he was thinking. Probably thinking Winstead Palace was so huge and overdone. Elves, for all their love of fine things, weren’t ostentatious. Even their royalty lived simply.
With another fortifying breath, Essie opened the door to her bedroom. Pink velvet drapes bracketed the windows while a floral-patterned blanket covered the bed beneath a gauzy, pink canopy while soft green rugs carpeted the floor. A few trunks and shelves to the left side of the room held her knickknacks and personal items. To the right, a door led into the water closet.
Did the room look as childish to Farrendel as it now did to her? This was the room of a girl who, though she had grown up, still clung to her childhood. Everything was flowers and pink and sentimental items she wasn’t ready to part with, even though she hadn’t missed most of it in the three months she’d been gone.
Essie let go of Farrendel’s hand to let him wander. When she’d arrived in Estyra, she had curiously searched through every cupboard in their main sitting room.
Well, honestly, she had been nosy. She would’ve been snooping through the room by now, but Farrendel waited by the door, as if asking for her permission.
Essie sat cross-legged on the bed and waved at the room. “Go ahead and look around if you want. Sorry it is so pink. Though, do you elves have the same cultural connotations for the color pink as we humans do? Maybe a pink and floral bedroom isn’t as stereotypically girly to you as it would be to my brothers. Then again, you didn’t think anything of my red hair, for which I am absolutely grateful, so maybe you don’t care about pink either.”
Farrendel glanced at her long enough to raise an eyebrow at her chattering before he started wandering around the room.
Essie leaned her elbows on her knees and tried to look relaxed as Farrendel prowled around her room. He didn’t touch anything, and he stayed on the rugs as if the stone floor at the edges would bite him. What did he think as he took in the room where she’d grown up? What could he tell about her from it?
She bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from asking questions. It would be better to let him process in silence and come up with his own questions, if he had any.
But it was so difficult holding back the flood of words. They burned inside her chest, ached inside her throat. It didn’t help with Farrendel investigating her room like a puppy sniffing around a new place.
After stalking the edges of the room, Farrendel circled the bed, staring at it for a long time as if trying to puzzle something out. The stare was enough to send a blush to Essie’s face.
Halting, he gestured at the bed. “How do human young ones not fall out?”
What? That’s what had him staring at the bed so long? Essie blinked, then snorted with her effort not to laugh. “You walk across tiny branches hundreds of feet in the air without so much as a handrail to stop someone from falling, and yet you’re worried about falling out of bed?”
Farrendel climbed onto the end of the bed and sat cross-legged facing her, eyeing the edges of the bed as if they were going to reach out to drag him off. Something in his posture remained on edge, as if prepared to whip out his swords at any moment. “It is flat. And large. And in the middle of the room.”
The elves slept in beds that were almost nest-like, curved and grown into the living walls of their treehouses. This bed would look odd to him. Then again, this whole room and palace probably looked strange.
“We get used to it, I guess, though rails are put on beds for young children to keep them from falling off.” Essie traced the floral pattern of the bedspread with a finger. “Sorry this is all so strange for
you.”
Farrendel’s white-blond hair trailed over his shoulders, all too temptingly silky. “You apologize a lot. You do not have to. Do not apologize for your family or home.”
She nearly said I’m sorry yet again but clamped her teeth over the words before they snuck out. “I guess I just want...” For someone who usually had too many words bubbling inside her, they failed her now. What did she want? “I know Winstead Palace probably won’t feel like home to you the way Estyra does for me. But I’d like you to feel a part of my family and, at least, not hate it here. But I don’t know if that’s possible. I can tell you’re still on edge, and I don’t know if it is my family or because this place is so different than what you’re used to or something else. I just...”
Farrendel rested his hand on hers for a moment, but he withdrew his hand and looked away. “I will try.”
He looked like he was going to say more, but as Essie waited, Farrendel didn’t continue. At least he’d said he’d try. Farrendel would put in a genuine effort. Hopefully Essie’s family would put in the same effort. She reached out and squeezed his hands. “Thank you.”
His mouth tipped into something almost like a smile. “I like your family. Their protective love for you is admirable.”
Trust Farrendel to see their grilling him as something praiseworthy and honorable.
She laughed, and for a moment, sitting there cross legged on the bed facing him, it almost felt right to have him there with her in her old bedroom, fitting in to her old life.
Maybe, just maybe, this visit wouldn’t turn into a disaster after all.
Essie glanced around the table in the formal dining room. Averett held court at the head of the table, with Jalissa, as the honored guest, sitting to his right. Paige was on his left with Essie and then Farrendel next to her. Edmund and Julien had the places next to Jalissa with Mother at the end of the table. Essie wasn’t sure how he’d managed it, but somehow Edmund had claimed the seat next to Jalissa that probably should have been Julien’s by right of age.
But her brothers didn’t stand on ceremony, especially between Julien and Edmund. Averett was somewhat different. He didn’t have the luxury to shed the crown and just be one of the siblings as often as the rest of them.
Still, Edmund probably wasn’t going to get far with Jalissa. Her elf sister-in-law could surprise her, but Essie wasn’t sure Jalissa would even notice Edmund. Then again, it was hard to tell if Edmund was truly serious or not.
As this was an official welcome banquet, her nephews were eating elsewhere. And probably having more fun. What was it about official dinners that gave everyone such long faces? They hadn’t even finished the soup course yet, and the conversation had dwindled to nearly nothing while everyone picked at their food, if it was possible to pick at soup.
Maybe having a fancy dinner their first day there after taking a train through the night hadn’t been the best idea. But time wasn’t on their side. Tomorrow, they would launch straight into meetings and visiting Parliament.
Essie tapped her foot on the floor. Everyone in this room was family, at least to her. Even if they were going to talk about war and weapons and traitors later on, they didn’t have to be stuffy now. “So...Mother and Paige. How has the new shampoo and conditioner been working?”
“I love it. My hair has never felt this good.” Paige ran her fingers over her pinned curls. “No wonder elves wear their hair down all the time, if it feels like this.”
Edmund swiped a hand over his short-cropped, brown hair. “It’s done wonders for my hair. Can’t you tell how sleek it is?”
Julien nudged Edmund and ran his fingers over his beard. “My beard has never felt this good.”
Now this was the family banter Essie was used to.
Jalissa sniffed and set down her spoon, nudging her soup a little farther away from herself. “We elves do not wear our hair long for petty reasons.”
And her family had managed to offend the elves. Already.
The serving staff whisked away their bowls of soup—both finished and unfinished—and replaced them with plates of steamed and seasoned vegetables.
Spices. Seasoning. Essie stuffed a bite in her mouth with only minimal blowing to cool it down first. She closed her eyes, savoring the burst of flavor on her tongue. How she’d missed seasonings like this. The elven dishes were flavored with little to no seasoning, making them plain and somewhat bland most of the time.
Beside her, Farrendel made a small choking sound. She glanced over at him in time to see him swallow, eyes watering, as if he’d just eaten one of the hot peppers that grew in the southern kingdoms.
These spices weren’t that hot. They weren’t even the spicy kind of spice. Just normal spice.
Unless...Essie eyed Jalissa as the elf tried to surreptitiously scrape the spices from the vegetables. Elves had sensitive hearing and smell. Why not sensitive taste as well? That would explain why their foods were so bland. They didn’t taste bland to elves.
She leaned closer to Farrendel. “You don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to.”
He breathed out a sigh and pushed the plate a little farther from him. Averett was glancing between Farrendel and Jalissa, as if he sensed something was wrong but didn’t know what it was.
Essie pushed her chair from the table and stood. “I’ll be back in just a moment.” As she passed Averett, she whispered, “I’ll take care of it.”
Hopefully he understood what she meant and would relax instead of worry.
Essie hurried down the main corridor. It would’ve been quicker to take the servants’ hall that connected the dining room directly with the kitchen, but it was narrow, and Essie didn’t want to get in the servers’ way. They were already working hard enough to put on this fancy meal without having their princess bumbling into them.
After hurrying down a short section of stairs, she pushed the door open into the kitchen. The clanging, bustling, whistling, hissing, shouting, sizzling clamor of the kitchen smacked into her along with a wave of heat and mouth-watering aromas.
“Princess Essie!”
Essie blinked away the cloud of steam in time to see Head Chef Figo barreling toward her. He was tall and lean as a whip, probably due to his habit of running to stay in shape. His hair streaked with gray at the temples, but the lines on his face were more from smiling than age.
He stopped short of hugging her and swept an elaborate bow instead. “Welcome back to my kitchen, princess.”
“How I’ve missed your cooking.” Essie resisted the urge to give him a hug.
“I’ve heard elven cooking leaves much to be desired.” Chef Figo shook his head. “My servers tell me your elf husband doesn’t seem to appreciate my cooking.”
“That’s why I’m here, actually.” Essie tried to think of a polite way of phrasing it. She didn’t want to offend Chef Figo or make the elves sound rude. “Elven food tends to be bland and use very little spices. I thought that was just how they preferred to cook, but I realized tonight that elves have a more sensitive sense of taste than we humans do. A little spice goes a long way for them. So what tastes good for us humans is overwhelming for them.”
“Ah, I see.” Chef Figo nodded, looking over at the pieces of steak, laid out in preparation for the main course. “I shall see their dishes as a challenge to create masterpieces without spices.”
“Thank you. I know they will love your cooking once the level of spices is no longer overpowering for them.” Essie breathed in a deep breath of the savory aromas filling the kitchen. “After tasting your cooking again, I’m going to miss it all the more when I return to Estyra.”
“I will give you a list of spices to purchase.” Chef Figo gave her a wink. “Perhaps you can teach the elves to cook properly.”
“That would be wonderful. Even if I have to sprinkle the spices on once the plate is set before me, it will be worth it.” Essie’s mouth watered as another wave of delicious smells reached her.
Chef Figo flapped his hand at her
. “Go. If you don’t hurry back, you’ll miss the next course.”
Essie hurried back just in time to wolf down a few more bites of vegetables before her plate was whisked away and replaced with a small salad. The dressing was served in small tureens with a spoon so they could ladle as much or as little dressing onto the greens as they liked.
“This one is very mild, if you want to try it. Or that one is more fruit based so it is also mild,” Essie whispered to Farrendel in elvish.
Jalissa eyed them, so hopefully she would take a cue from Farrendel.
Farrendel dribbled a little bit of each on edges of his salad before choosing the raspberry dressing. Jalissa promptly choose that one as well.
Essie tried to relax. Hopefully now Jalissa and Farrendel could enjoy the rest of the meal. Still, it was exhausting trying to anticipate all the snags involved with introducing Farrendel to her culture. Had he been this worried with her? It wasn’t as easy as he’d made it look.
When the main course arrived, Farrendel’s steak was free of pepper and other seasonings while hers was topped with a pepper and mushroom sauce.
He glanced from his plate to hers, then met her gaze. “Linshi.”
Elven for thank you.
“I didn’t want you to be miserable trying to eat.” Essie sliced into her steak. “Food is too delicious to waste.”
FARRENDEL KNELT on the pink rug in Essie’s room and carefully retrieved the canvas-wrapped packages he had hidden among his belongings, trying to keep his hands from shaking. This was an important custom among his people, and something he would have done if he had courted Essie properly. In Tarenhiel, it would be a significant moment before a proposal.
He reached for another package, a throbbing starting at the back of his head. All this stone around him, pressing down on him. He willed the headache away, at least for now.
“What are those? I don’t remember seeing you pack them.” Essie halted at his side, peering over his shoulder. Unfailingly curious, as always.
After the formal dinner with her family, Essie had brought him back to her room, explaining they would be gathering with her family informally in her mother’s sitting room, but they could take the time to change into comfortable clothes beforehand.