by Tara Grayce
Essie wasn’t sure what to correct first. There was so much wrong with that statement. “It isn’t like that, Lady Fristly. Farrendel...” Essie trailed off. What should she say?
Farrendel caught her gaze, and his expression softened with the hint of a smile. “I do not think you should bother explaining.” He spoke in elvish, and his smile took on a mischievous tilt. “I think this will work better.”
He tugged her closer and pressed a kiss to Essie’s temple, causing a peal of giggles from Lady Fristly and her gaggle of ladies.
Lady Fristly glanced at Farrendel and batted her eyes. Full on batted her eyes and gave a small giggle. “Oh, I see. The rumors are wrong. He’s so handsome.” She dragged out the last two words, adding a few more eyelash bats.
Essie wrapped both hands around Farrendel’s arm, tilting her left hand so that her ring was clearly visible. Just to make sure Lady Fristly got the hint that Farrendel was taken. Very, very taken. “Thank you for your best wishes on my marriage. Please excuse us. I need to introduce Farrendel to a few more members of the court.”
“Oh, of course.” Lady Fristly dissolved into more giggling and batting her eyes. It was so overdone that it was just to get attention.
It made Essie almost feel sorry for Lady Fristly. It must be a hard life to feel like a person needed to pretend to be empty-headed to be noticed.
As Essie tugged Farrendel away, she would’ve bumped into someone if Farrendel hadn’t halted her in time.
The offended harrumph told her the person’s identity before she looked up. Charles Hadley stood with his arms crossed.
Farrendel tensed, shifting to place his shoulder partially in front of Essie.
Behind him, Essie clenched her fists, resisting the urge to reach for her derringer. They weren’t supposed to let Charles Hadley know they suspected him, yet her skin crawled being so close when he could be plotting to kill Farrendel that night.
Mr. Hadley glared at Farrendel and muttered something under his breath about pointed ears and a few other words not fit for polite society.
Next to him, his son Mark nudged him. “Please, Father. Be polite.” Turning, Mark grinned and held out a hand to Farrendel. “Nice to meet you again.”
Farrendel solemnly shook his hand. After all the practice he’d had during his visit to Escarland, he managed not to flinch.
Essie held out her hand for Mark to bow over. “I hope you have a pleasant evening tonight. You as well, Mr. Hadley.”
Mr. Hadley’s scowl remained in place. “Awful waste of resources, to celebrate an elf like this.”
Essie gritted her teeth and somehow managed to keep her smile in place. She didn’t know how to reply to that.
Mark shook his head. “Father. Please don’t be rude. This is a celebration of our princess, regardless of the man she married.”
“Hmph.” Mr. Hadley snorted again.
As Essie made polite excuses and pulled Farrendel away again, she let out a breath. “That was close. I fear this is how the rest of the night is going to go.”
Farrendel nodded and said in elvish, “My family rarely hosts the full elven court, but when they do, I fear our reception would be much like this. Worse, probably. I am liked by the elven court only marginally better than you would be.”
He said it in a matter-of-fact tone. As if it was merely expected that a prince of the elves would find himself nearly a pariah in his own court. Never mind that he had been acknowledged and made an official part of the family.
It seemed that stuffy, judgmental courtiers weren’t only to be found in human circles. For all the elves’ claims to perfection, their imperfections of heart and soul were there as much as in any human. They just attempted to hide it better.
Essie directed Farrendel through the crowd, making sure they paused to chat with the key Parliamentary members and their wives. As expected, some did their best to pretend Farrendel wasn’t standing right there. Some were genuinely trying to be nice, though their attempts failed when they either assumed Farrendel couldn’t understand Escarlish or that he would speak a broken version of it and addressed him in baby talk or spoke extra slowly and loudly. Others simply avoided speaking to Essie and Farrendel altogether.
The best were the few who had estates in the north yet not right on the border. They had more knowledge of the elves but also hadn’t suffered the privations and raids that the estates closest to the border had experienced.
As the time for dinner neared, Essie eased herself and Farrendel into a group of several Parliament members and their wives, including Lord Kranshaw and Lord Bletchly.
Lord Kranshaw turned away from Farrendel, his lip curling. But Lord Bletchly held out his hand. “It is a pleasure to meet you again, Prince Farrendel. I trust your stay in Escarland has been pleasant.”
Farrendel’s stiff shoulders were hardly noticeable beneath his tailcoat as he shook Lord Bletchly’s hand. Farrendel must be getting used to all the handshaking. This time, he even managed a hint of a forced smile. “It has been.”
“It must have been quite the shock, visiting our bustling, modern city after growing up in the barbaric wilds of Tarenhiel.” Lady Kranshaw’s smile was sickly sweet, like a poisonous flower whose lovely scent did nothing to disguise its deadliness.
Essie tightened her grip on Farrendel’s arm, keeping her smile in place by force of habit. “It was a shock returning here after enjoying the elven sophistication in Estyra.”
A tinkling bell rang, signaling the beginning of dinner. Essie swallowed back her sigh of relief. The past half hour of conversations had been one long, tortuous event. She wouldn’t blame Farrendel if he made a run for it partway through the evening.
In the formal dining room, they located their seats. Thankfully, the seating was arranged by precedence, so while they had a few of the Parliamentary lords and ladies seated near them, her family and Jalissa were also sitting close enough to talk.
Their presence relaxed Farrendel’s shoulders as well. He and Jalissa shared a look that seemed to commiserate over the agony of the evening so far.
Essie slipped into the seat to Farrendel’s right, putting herself between him and Lord Fiskre. While Lord Fiskre was one of the nicer lords, a grandfatherly figure with white hair and smile wrinkles etched into his skin, Farrendel would probably appreciate sitting next to Edmund instead.
“Princess Elspeth, congratulations on your marriage.” Lord Fiskre nodded to her as the salad course was placed in front of them by the serving staff. “It is nice to see elves and humans sitting at a table together once again. My grandfather used to tell stories about the time when he was a boy and elves and humans didn’t have the animosity they have now.”
“Thank you for your congratulations. Not everyone has been so supportive.” Essie felt the first genuine smile since arriving at this ball.
“I, for one, find it refreshing.” Lord Fiskre grinned. “Keeps both Escarland and Tarenhiel from getting too stuffy and stodgy, if you ask me.”
Essie felt her own grin tug at her mouth. Lord Fiskre must have been a real adventurer in his day. His eyes still had that fire in them.
Next to him, Lady Fiskre patted his hand. “We wish you every happiness, princess.”
Essie tapped Farrendel’s arm. When he turned to her, she introduced him to Lord and Lady Fiskre. All four of them were soon chatting, drawing in Jalissa from across the table. The conversation remained interesting all through the soup and meat course.
As the serving staff placed the cheesecake desert in front of them, Averett stood and clinked his fork against his glass to gain everyone’s attention. When the various conversations around the table fell silent, Averett faced Farrendel and Essie. “I would like to raise a toast to my sister Princess Elspeth and her husband Prince Farrendel. Yours was a marriage made to secure peace, but together you have built so much more. I am pleased to welcome you to the family, Prince Farrendel.” Averett raised his glass. “To Prince Farrendel and Princess Elspeth and lasting peace
between Escarland and Tarenhiel.”
“Hear, hear!” Julien and Edmund raised their glasses.
Down the table, several of the Parliament members raised their glasses, joining in the cheer. Others raised their glasses, but less enthusiastically, as if they didn’t want to let their king know they weren’t happy about this. Still others crossed their arms, very purposefully boycotting their king’s toast.
She hadn’t expected everyone to be happy. At least a slim majority were cheering, if reluctantly.
The ringing ping of forks tapping glasses started in scattered places around the long tables. Beside her, Lord Fiskre picked up his fork and began tapping it against his glass.
As the noise swelled, Farrendel shifted, his shoulders tensing. Jalissa’s gaze flicked back and forth, her fingers flexing on her fork as if she was debating the consequences of joining in when she didn’t know what was happening.
Essie hadn’t thought to prepare Farrendel for this. It hadn’t occurred to her that this tradition would be put in place. This was something that happened when people were enthusiastic about a marriage.
“What is this?” Farrendel leaned close, whispering in elvish.
“A human marriage tradition.” Essie also spoke in elvish, keeping her voice low. “When glasses are clinked like this, the newlyweds are expected to kiss.”
Farrendel’s eyes widened. “Right here? In front of everyone?”
“Yes, I’m afraid. That’s how the tradition goes. Sorry, a quick little peck doesn’t work. It needs to be a real kiss. Anything less will make everyone think you see me as just a duty.” Essie slid her fingers through Farrendel’s and stood.
Farrendel slowly glided to his feet as well, his shoulders tensed.
Essie rested a hand on his chest. “Smile. Try to look like you want to kiss me.”
Farrendel cupped her cheek and eased closer. His kiss was gentle, light. Still toe curling, even in its sweetness.
When it had lingered just long enough, Essie pressed on Farrendel’s chest. Just subtle enough that everyone watching wouldn’t notice, but Farrendel would feel it.
He pulled back, but just far enough to press a kiss to her temple. “Did I do that right?” he murmured in elvish.
“Exactly right.” Essie smiled up at him.
“I don’t think anyone will doubt the two of you are disgustingly in love.” Edmund managed to keep his gagging expression hidden behind his hand so that only Essie and Farrendel could see it.
Essie returned to her seat. “Admit it. You helped start the glass clinking.”
Edmund smirked and polished off the last bite of his cheesecake.
The warmth filling her remained all through the rest of the desert and the official ceremony in the ballroom where Averett conferred titles onto both Farrendel and Essie. It was a ceremony that would have been done at the ball after the wedding, if they’d had a celebration ball then. Farrendel’s title of prince was officially recognized. He was also made a Knight of the Royal Order of the Maple, a distinction all princes of Escarland had. Farrendel had been especially wary of the whole kneel and let Averett tap his shoulders with a sword thing, but he bore the ceremony without flinching when the time came.
Finally, both he and Essie got a whole list of titles from Duke and Duchess on down, complete with an estate along the northern border between Escarland and Tarenhiel. While the estate’s main house was a crumbling, old stone castle, it had a smaller manor house constructed of wood that would be much more habitable for her and Farrendel, should they wish to stay there.
After all their worry, the ceremony concluded without any attempts by Mr. Charles Hadley or his cronies to hurt Farrendel or even protest his newly awarded titles. Perhaps he’d thought better of acting against a member of the royal family, even one by marriage, within Winstead Palace.
By the time the evening transitioned to dancing, Essie could tell Farrendel was just about done. Even her brothers’ jokes weren’t drawing much of a smile out of him, and he kept looking longingly toward the doors to the garden.
“You don’t look that happy to be dancing with me.” Essie leaned in close as Farrendel swept her through the simple steps of the first dance, a traditional Escarlish waltz. She had practiced the steps with him that morning, but he didn’t seem to enjoy dancing, for all its emphasis on footwork and timing. It probably had something to do with feeling like he was on display and vulnerable. “Is it the dancing or the people?”
“Both.” A hint of a smile tugged at his mouth, only to die a moment later.
“Let’s finish this dance, then slip out of here and head back for the Cottage.” This party might be for them, but they didn’t have to linger. They were the newlyweds after all. Sneaking out of a ball early was somewhat expected.
Between the two of them, she and Farrendel eased their way through the crowd so that they were near the doors to the rest of the palace when the dance ended. Thankfully, Mother was holding court nearby. Essie caught her eye.
When Mother bowed out of her conversation and walked over, Essie gave her a short hug. “Farrendel and I are sneaking out early.”
Mother glanced from her to Farrendel. “Will you have breakfast with the family before you leave for Tarenhiel?”
Farrendel nodded. “Yes.”
It said a lot about the bond he’d built with her family that he agreed so readily. He probably would eat a first breakfast right away when he got up, then another one with the family later, but it was the thought that counted.
“We’ll see both of you there.” Mother stepped forward, as if she wanted to give Farrendel a hug but couldn’t with all the onlookers.
“Thank you.” Essie smiled, took Farrendel’s arm, and headed for the doors.
As soon as they stepped clear of the ballroom and turned the corner toward the family wing, she slid her fingers down Farrendel’s arm until she held his hand as she’d longed to do all night. “Sorry this was such a long night.”
“It was...” He trailed off, as if he couldn’t figure out a nice way to say it.
“Excruciating?”
That brought a smile to his face. “Yes.”
Essie leaned closer to him as they strolled across the green velvet rug covering this hallway. Various landscape paintings filled the walls. At this time of the night with the ball keeping everyone busy behind them, it was completely deserted, even of servants, leaving Essie free to relax and hold Farrendel’s hand without worrying about anyone seeing.
This was their last night together before he left for war. A night to linger and savor their time together. Essie wasn’t exactly sure how to go about telling Farrendel that she didn’t want to have regrets tonight. That if, tonight, their kissing led to more...
“Princess Elspeth! Prince Farrendel!”
Essie halted and turned. Lord Bletchly was hurrying down the hallway toward them. “Yes, Lord Bletchly? Did you need something?”
“I saw you leaving and just wanted to give my congratulations once again on your marriage.” Lord Bletchly turned to Farrendel and held out his hand. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Prince Farrendel. I look forward to the growing peace between our kingdoms.”
Farrendel drew in a deep breath, probably bracing himself for yet one more handshake after he’d thought himself done with those for the evening. He gripped Lord Bletchly’s hand, the tight sleeve of his tailcoat riding up his arm to expose his wrist.
Lord Bletchly swung his other hand up and clapped something around Farrendel’s wrist. At the same moment, a door clicked open behind Essie, footsteps scuffing across stone.
Farrendel yanked his hand free, his other hand sparking with a weak blue fire.
“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you.” Lord Bletchly’s genial tone turned hard, cold.
Something cold and round dug into the small of Essie’s back. She opened her mouth to cry out, but a rag clapped over both her mouth and nose, smelling of something chemical and sickly sweet. She was yanked backwards, the back of
her head pressing into a stranger’s chest.
She scrambled, off balance, trying to get purchase for her feet so that she could stomp on her attacker’s foot or kick him up higher. She couldn’t reach her derringer, not without the men noticing.
Yet she needed to get free. To scream. To help Farrendel. To fight.
She couldn’t seem to find her balance, and only her attacker pressing her head against his chest kept her from sliding to the floor. The sickly-sweet stench coated her tongue, filling her throat. She couldn’t draw a decent breath past the press of his hand over her nose and mouth. Her muscles felt weak. Shaky. What was wrong with her?
Farrendel glanced from Essie and the person behind her to Lord Bletchly. His magic remained nothing but a faint swirl around his left hand.
“I was assured your power would be weak inside the stones of the castle, and that shackle should impede most of your magic. There’s nothing you can do, not without risking her.” Lord Bletchly stood all too sure of himself, as if he wasn’t only feet from Farrendel’s deadly, crackling magic.
Except that Farrendel’s magic didn’t hold the power it normally did. Lord Bletchly was right. There was a chance Essie was immune to Farrendel’s magic. But that was a chance Farrendel wouldn’t take. With the gunman standing directly behind her with a gun to her back, her body provided a shield.
Essie opened her mouth to scream. To tell him not to stand down. But all that filled her mouth, her lungs, was the chemical stench. A light-headed buzzing rang in her ears. She couldn’t gather her feet beneath her. The hands she lifted, trying to claw the man holding her, scrabbled weakly at his shirt. She couldn’t seem to raise her arms high enough.
Farrendel’s shoulders slumped. His magic winked out.
No. Essie tried to scream into the man’s hand. No. Don’t. Fight.
Nothing but a whisper squeaked out.
Lord Bletchly forced Farrendel onto his knees, shackling Farrendel’s hands behind his back. There was something about the shackles. They didn’t glint like iron, and when it clamped around his wrist, blood dripped, as if the shackle had sliced him.