by Tara Grayce
It hurt, seeing him like this, and Essie wasn’t sure what he wanted from her. Did he want her to be cheery? To pretend everything was normal? To be quiet and subdued? It was hard to know, and Farrendel wasn’t the type to tell her what he wanted, especially right now. He probably didn’t even know.
The tunic hung on him almost as much as it had hung on her when she wore it. The shoulders drooped and the fabric billowed around his middle. Instead of hiding how gaunt he’d become, it accentuated the hollowed-out look.
Essie had to bite her lip to keep her smile from trembling. He would heal, eventually. Rescue, it seemed, was a process.
She knelt on the floor. “Do you need help with your stockings and boots?”
“No. I can do it myself.” Farrendel claimed his stockings from her, swaying from the movement.
Essie bit her lip, forcing herself to stay still and silent as he struggled to pull on first one stocking, then the other. He’d had so much of his dignity stolen from him. It made him more determined to do everything himself. But it still hurt to just sit there and watch him struggle. “All right. But there is a difference between accepting help from a loved one and having an indignity forced on you. I know they probably don’t feel that different right now, but I am here, all right?”
He didn’t look at her as he worked on his second stocking, his breathing coming hard, as if that small action taxed his strength. When he straightened, he braced himself against the table, as if he was struggling not to pass out.
Essie held up his boots. “Right now, it’s just the two of us. No one else will see if you ask for help. It might be better to save your strength for walking out of here when everyone will be watching. If you want to reclaim a bit of your pride, I think that would be the time for it.”
He stared at the boots for a moment before his gaze dropped to his feet. When he spoke, his tone was weary. Defeated. “Could you? Please?”
“Of course.” Essie plastered the smile back on her face as she worked the first boot onto his foot. “Besides, you’ll eventually be able to return the favor. Someday, I’ll be pregnant and won’t be able to see my feet, and I’ll be asking you to put on my shoes for me.”
When she glanced up after tying the bootlaces, the tips of his ears were a hint pink. Ah, yes. There was her awkward elf.
She smirked and returned her attention to his second boot. “Yes. Hugely pregnant. With our sixth child. Or maybe seventh.”
“Seven.” Farrendel gaped down at her as if she had just suggested he dye his hair magenta.
“You’re right. Five would be more realistic.” Essie tied the laces of Farrendel’s boot and stood. Though he was still gaunt and the tunic baggy, the boots did help him look more normal. Essie stepped closer and traced one of his tapered ears. “I hope our children have your pointed ears.”
The tip of the ear she was tracing turned even more pink as Farrendel ducked his head. After a moment, though, he lifted his gaze back to hers, reached out, and ran his fingers over her braid, pulling it over her shoulder. “And your hair.”
“Please. Don’t inflict my red hair on our hypothetical children.” Essie linked her hands behind his neck. Hopefully he hadn’t noticed how greasy her hair was. It was in a braid because bathing hadn’t been a priority while they had fought and shivered their way across Kostaria.
“Why not? If you can dream of seven children, I can dream of red hair.” The hint of a smile on his face grew wider. “It is pretty. And it is a beacon on a battlefield.”
“Ah. Now I understand your fascination with my red hair.” Here she was picturing tiny little half-elf babies, and he was thinking about a full-grown elf warrior. Though, it didn’t take too much effort to imagine a warrior with red hair tossing in a breeze and Farrendel’s type of magic sizzling around him. Or her.
Farrendel just smiled back and let go of her braid to wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her closer. “Someday.”
Essie leaned her forehead against his. “Yes. Someday.”
As much as it stirred something in her to imagine their children, he was not ready yet. He was barely holding himself together right now. It would take him time even to get back to where they were before the trolls had captured him.
“Essie?” Farrendel cradled her face, tipping her chin so that she was looking at him. “I know it may not always seem like it, but I do want our someday. I chose this. I will fight for it.”
Before she had a chance to reply, he kissed her. Not a peck. Not a frantic kiss on the middle of the battlefield surrounded by his blazing magic. But a real kiss that promised his heart, his soul, their someday.
She dug her fingers into his short hair and kissed him back with all the emotion she’d had building up inside her from the moment she’d left him behind while she escaped. She’d missed him so desperately. She’d missed his shy smile. The way he’d get up early and swing through windows and loved hot chocolate even more than she did.
She trailed her fingers down his neck and traced his collarbone, feeling the length of one of his new scars.
Farrendel made a sound in the back of his throat and yanked away from her, his hands coming up between them as if to protect himself from a blow. His breathing had grown ragged again, a wild light in his gaze before he squeezed his eyes shut.
Essie froze, not daring to move or even speak while he gathered himself. How long would it take before he stopped flinching as if he expected her touch to hurt?
After a moment, Farrendel lowered his hands. “I am sorry. I just...I need time.”
“I know.” Essie kissed his forehead before she stepped back. “I have one more thing for you.”
She bent and pulled his sheathed swords from the canvas sack. “I brought these for you.”
He took the swords, running his fingers over the sheaths and hilts. Instead of buckling them on, he hugged the swords to his chest as if they were a favorite, childhood blanket.
Essie held out a hand to him. “Are you ready to face the others?”
Farrendel nodded and pushed off the table with his free hand. As soon as his feet touched the ground, his knees buckled. He managed to catch himself with his grip on the table, but Essie still hurried to prop herself under his arm.
His jaw set, Farrendel shakily strode from the healers’ tent. Essie suspected he was leaning on her as little as possible, though she still stayed at his side in case he stumbled.
Outside, their siblings crowded around them. Weylind took Essie’s place helping Farrendel walk while Averett hovered on Farrendel’s other side, though Farrendel was too busy gripping his emotional support swords to reach out for more help walking.
By the time they reached the tent only a few yards from the hospital tent, sweat beaded on Farrendel’s forehead, and he gasped in panting breaths. He sank onto the cot, one hand braced on the cot’s side bar, shoulders hunched.
Averett pulled the end table from the corner, positioning it as if it were a dining room table while Julien arranged the chair and folding stools around it.
Circling around the table, Essie sat on the end of the cot, shoving aside the pillow. Perhaps she should have taken one of the seats, but she would rather sit close to Farrendel. Even if he was too busy trying to stay upright to even notice her.
Edmund and Julien mumbled something about fetching food while Weylind and Jalissa grew the table into a large, round table. After a moment, Jalissa also left to help Edmund and Julien.
Farrendel swiveled, easing his feet onto the cot and curling tight to fit in the space left, his sheathed swords gripped to his chest. Bracing himself on an elbow, he pointed at the pillow she had dumped on the floor. “Could you hand me that?”
Essie reached down for the pillow, then halted, a slow smile crossing her face. She patted her lap. “Use me as your pillow. You’ll be able to stretch out more.”
Well, that was the excuse she was going to give. She’d always heard the whole head-on-lap thing was romantic. Time to test it out.
; Farrendel glanced from her, to Weylind and Averett talking quietly across the table, and back to her, raising an eyebrow. This probably crossed all sorts of elven etiquette boundaries. Farrendel wasn’t big on cuddling when others were around. She normally wasn’t the type to show affection to this level in public either, but after coming so close to losing him, she didn’t care.
He apparently didn’t care what the others thought either. Or he had realized that once he was lying down and the others were sitting, he would be hidden by the table. With a shrug, he curled on his side, resting his head on her thigh. It took a little shifting before both of them found a spot that was comfortable.
She ran her fingers through the short strands of his hair. Shorn as it was, the haircut really was awful. Long enough to fall into his eyes in one section, short to his scalp in other places. “You’re just going to have to sit up again in a few minutes. Julien, Edmund, and Jalissa will be here with lunch shortly.”
“I will eat later.” Farrendel had his eyes closed, his muscles relaxing.
“Are you sure? You need to eat.” Essie linked her fingers through his where his hand lay on the cot.
“Not hungry now.” Farrendel squeezed her fingers. “Besides, I am too comfortable to move.”
“I guess that’s a good reason.” She rested her free hand on his hair, tracing the tip of his ear with her thumb.
Carrying a tray, Jalissa swept into the tent, her expression still as hard as it had been when she had refused to acknowledge Melantha. Her gaze swept over the tent, passed Essie and Farrendel, then snapped back to them. Her eyes softened, and she raised an eyebrow.
Julien and Edmund entered on her heels, also carrying trays. They glanced in Essie’s direction and paused.
Essie grinned. If they didn’t like it, they would just have to deal with it. Or tease her relentlessly.
Instead, Edmund smirked and brandished his tray before taking a seat. “Lunch is served.”
“Apparently the cooks saved a side of roast beef for a victory feast.” Julien set his tray next to Edmund’s and also claimed a seat.
Jalissa slid into the last seat—the only chair—and straightened her skirts. “The cooks also made fresh bread.”
Fresh bread. They hadn’t had fresh bread in the past week. Everyone was too busy fighting and moving camp every day to take the time to bake. Essie would have lunged across the table for it, but she couldn’t with Farrendel’s head in her lap. “Averett, can you pass me some of that bread?”
Averett broke a chunk off the end of the loaf, passed it to Jalissa, who handed it to Essie.
After letting go of Farrendel’s hand, she broke the chunk of bread in half. She held half down to Farrendel. “Here. You can nibble on bread while lying down.”
He cracked one eye open and gave her a mock glare. “You got crumbs on me.”
“Sorry.” She brushed the breadcrumbs from the side of his face and the tapered end of his ear.
He took the bread from her. “Try not to drop food on me.”
“Um...” She was not exactly neat when she ate. As Farrendel well knew. “I will do my best.”
“That is not reassuring.” He took a bite of his bread, chewing slowly as if savoring it. “This is...much nicer than anything I have had in weeks.”
Essie couldn’t think of anything to say to that. Here she had been thankful to have fresh bread after only a week. It had been two weeks since he’d been captured, and whatever he’d been fed in that dungeon was probably far worse than camp rations.
She settled for patting his shoulder. “If you decide you’re hungry, I’ll pass you some roast beef once you finish the bread.”
“Maybe.”
She took that to mean he was doubting that he would be hungry, not that he was doubting she would give him more food.
Jalissa set a filled plate in front of her, and Essie winced. She was probably making everyone else feel terribly awkward, what with Farrendel using her as a pillow and them totally ignoring everyone else while they talked.
She’d told herself she didn’t care, but she remembered how annoyingly mushy Averett and Paige had been when they were first courting. Not that they weren’t still mushy with each other occasionally, but romance seemed to be tempered with practicality after a while. Back then, Essie hadn’t thought she would end up just as annoyingly mushy.
“Thank you for dishing out food for me.” Essie smiled at Jalissa and glanced around the table. Thankfully, her brothers and Weylind were eating their roast beef and studiously pretending they didn’t see Essie and Farrendel being cuddly.
Essie dug into her roast beef, holding the plate near her mouth. It wasn’t the proper, etiquette-approved way to eat, but it did prevent her from drooling meat juice from the roast beef onto Farrendel’s face.
Once she had eaten several bites, enough to stop her stomach from growling loudly next to Farrendel’s ear, she glanced at her brothers, focusing especially on Edmund. “You aren’t going to tease me about this?” She pointed down at Farrendel.
“It’s tempting. But you’re expecting it now.” Edmund’s expression remained far too casual as he stuffed another bite of meat in his mouth.
“So you’re not teasing me because that’s the more unexpected option?”
“Exactly,” he said around the bite of meat he was chewing.
“We like to keep you on your toes.” Julien waved his fork at her. “Even if all that lovey-dovey stuff is making us nauseous.”
And, there it was. Essie resisted the urge to dignify that comment with an eyeroll.
Averett glanced at Essie, shook his head, and turned to Weylind. He struck up a conversation on ideas for withdrawing the armies from Kostaria, and soon Julien and Edmund were drawn into the discussion.
With the others busy talking, Essie turned to Jalissa, not sure how to ask this question. “Are you going to help Melantha get ready for the wedding tomorrow?”
Jalissa’s expression stiffened, her gaze dropping to Farrendel. “I have no wish to speak with her. Not after what she did.”
Essie understood that. She was finding it hard to be charitable toward Melantha. But Farrendel seemed inclined to be forgiving, and Essie would respect that choice and support him.
Farrendel shifted, as if he was trying to glance at Jalissa. He wouldn’t be able to see much with the table in the way. “Jalissa, isciena, do not shun her on my account. Please.”
“She tried to have you killed.” Jalissa stabbed her roast beef.
“Yes.” Farrendel curled tighter, hugging his swords to his chest, his gaze swiveling back to the bread he still held. He’d only taken two bites from it. “But, in the end, she saved me with her magic several times when she could have let me die, if that had truly been her desire. I know what it is like to be shunned by elven society, something I have endured because I know my family will stand with me. Now she will be shunned, and I would not wish for her to have to face that alone.”
“But...” Jalissa shook her head, her fingers clenching on her fork. Across the table, Weylind was staring at his plate, obviously listening to the conversation, but not offering his opinion.
“She’s sacrificing herself for the good of Tarenhiel by marrying a troll.” Essie knew firsthand how bewildering that could be, though she could not imagine being in Melantha’s shoes.
Because Essie had known almost nothing about Farrendel, she had been able to go into the marriage innocently confident things would work.
Melantha, on the other hand, was marrying a troll who’d had a hand in keeping her captive for the past two weeks. Not a good basis for a marriage, even without the depth of enmity that existed between elves and trolls. From what Essie had heard, Prince Rharreth had tried to ease her captivity where he could, but that still wouldn’t erase the fact that the first two weeks he and Melantha had known each other had been while she was locked in his dungeon.
“Because she has no choice.” Jalissa jabbed her roast beef over and over until Essie was temp
ted to take the fork from her to spare the food the mangling.
“Just because she doesn’t have many good choices, doesn’t mean she has no choice. She could have chosen banishment. Or pushed harder for a pardon. Instead, she’s picking the option that is best for Tarenhiel.” Essie broke off a bite-sized piece of roast beef and held it out to Farrendel.
He stared at the roast beef, sighed, then juggled his swords so that he could hold them and what was left of his bread in one hand and take the bite of roast beef. A bite he turned into two bites. But at least he wasn’t protesting that eating with his fingers was unsanitary.
“I suppose.” Jalissa’s posture didn’t change, but the set of her shoulders relaxed a fraction.
Essie slipped Farrendel another piece of roast beef. She felt a little bit like she was feeding a dog scraps beneath the table, but it seemed the only way she could convince Farrendel to eat something. “She is still your sister.”
“And this is her wedding.” Jalissa sighed, her stiff posture crumbling. “This is not how we imagined it would be.”
Probably not. Essie’s wedding hadn’t been like she had imagined while growing up either. But, she wouldn’t go back and change anything. She’d ended up married to exactly the right elf, and she hadn’t spent months fretting over the planning.
Essie glanced around the table again. How long would it be before their families would be together like this again? Tomorrow after the wedding, Jalissa, Essie, and Farrendel would leave for Tarenhiel. Edmund, Julien, Averett, and Weylind would take longer to return as they would remain with the armies as they withdrew.
And, after that? Things would go back to normal. Averett would return to Escarland. Essie would remain in Tarenhiel with Farrendel. Jalissa would probably go to Escarland to take up her position as ambassador. Edmund and Julien might remain in Tarenhiel for a while, in case the trolls broke the peace.
And Melantha would stay in Kostaria. Essie wouldn’t miss her that much, but she ached for Farrendel. She now knew what it was like to have family scattered across kingdoms. His would be even more scattered than hers. Those family dinners in Ellonahshinel wouldn’t be the same.
