Fierce Heart (Elven Alliance Book 1)

by Tara Grayce

  Did he think she found his scars disgusting? Horrifying? She put a hand on his shirt, stopping him from picking it up. “Sorry, that didn’t come out like I meant it to. Your scars don’t bother me.”

  No, that still wasn’t enough. He still had his head down, his hand clenched in the fabric of his shirt like he wanted to tear it from her grip. Like he needed the fabric to hide behind like a shield.

  Why would scars bother him so much? Why would he just assume she would be disgusted by them?

  Unless...would an elf woman have been disgusted? Essie thought of all the flawlessly handsome and beautiful elves she’d seen since arriving in Estyra. Perhaps elves didn’t live recklessly and make foolish mistakes, but did they also so highly prize beauty that a scar—something that could hardly even be considered a flaw—was despised by them?

  She wanted to reach out and touch him. Lift his chin so she could see the expression in his eyes. But she focused on the cascade of his hair hiding his face, the rise and fall of his back with his panting breaths. “Where I come from, a scarred warrior is honored. It means he has faced battle and death and survived. Scars are something about which the men boast and the women admire.”

  His head raised slowly, and his silver-blue eyes searched her face.

  Just as slowly, Essie reached out and traced the length of the scar across his cheek, feeling the tightness in him, as if he was torn between staying still and pulling away. “I don’t know how scars are viewed by your people, but the only thing I mind about your scars is the suffering you must have gone through to get them. But you survived, and for that, I admire you, scars and all.”

  His fingers uncurled from his shirt, and he eased away from her hand, sinking into a cross-legged position on the floor of the walkway. He was still eyeing her, as if searching for a look of disgust to cross her face.

  If she was the all-too-happy puppy, then he was a tentative forest creature whose trust could be too easily shattered if she said or did the wrong thing.

  Too bad she couldn’t be sure what the wrong thing was.

  Perhaps she hadn’t been too far off, when she’d wondered if the only reason he was desperate enough to marry her was because he was too flawed for an elf woman to want. She’d thought it funny then. Now she ached for how true it might be.

  Did his family know how bad the scars were or how much they bothered him? Was that the hurt Jalissa said Farrendel had already experienced?

  If his scars were disgusting to his fellow elves, what would that mean for him once Essie was gone and he was free to marry again? Would it be better if he never married again rather than face a marriage to an elf woman who might find him disgusting?

  Essie shook those thoughts away. She was here now, and, at least while she was his wife, Farrendel wasn’t going to have to feel ashamed of his scars around her.

  She forced a smile onto her face. “It’s a good thing you married me, then. Since I find all of this,” she gestured to his shirtless, sweaty torso, “rather attractive.”

  He didn’t move. Or speak. Maybe he stiffened. Had she offended him? Was talk of being attracted to him offensive to the elf culture? Or was it too soon for such talk? They were married after all, so in some ways, it was a little late rather than too soon. But they were still mostly strangers, and elves had an odd sense of decorum as far as Essie could tell.

  Maybe it was time to have a frank discussion—if he could manage enough words for it to count as a discussion. There was no way to say this except be blunt. “We need to talk.”

  Farrendel remained where he was silent and still. At least he hadn’t bolted the moment she said those words. That was something, right?

  Essie tried to gather her thoughts. “I need to know what you expect from this marriage and from me. I don’t want to embarrass you or make you regret marrying me any more than you already do, but I don’t know elven culture well. If I’m doing something wrong or there’s something I should know, then please tell me. I won’t always know the right questions to ask.”

  He wasn’t piping up with anything to add, and now that the words were pouring from her, she couldn’t seem to make them stop.

  “I know I’m probably not the wife you expected to marry someday, and you didn’t have any more time to prepare for this wedding than I did.” Essie clenched her fingers in the end of her tunic. “I know love probably isn’t an option, but I’m willing to put an effort into at least making this a really good friendship. I’m willing to be the person you can trust and confide in and smile with you. But I need to know you’re going to put an effort in too and aren’t just going to go about your day ignoring me. It’s hard to know what you’re thinking when you don’t even talk to me and I don’t know if you find me annoying or you don’t understand half of what I’m saying. I just...”

  She blew out a breath, all wrung out and talked out for a moment.

  Farrendel was still staring, but something in his gaze seemed like he was waiting for her to start spouting words again.

  This time, she would wait him out. She could hold off talking for five minutes if it meant he would say something.

  After another heartbeat passed, he finally looked away. “I do not want to say anything to offend you.”

  Really? That was his concern? It was sweet, that he was worried about offending her. It meant he cared what she thought about him.

  She put on her widest grin. “You won’t offend me. I’ve been saying the first things that come to my mind this whole time, and I haven’t offended you. Or I don’t think I have. Would you even tell me if I offended you? Will you at least tell me if something I say is considered horribly offensive to elven culture so I know not to say it in the future?”

  He tilted his head in something of a nod. After a pause, he added. “I like when you talk.”

  He did? She nearly started talking again but bit her lip to keep the words inside.

  His gaze flicked toward her, then away. “When I wait, you keep on talking. It is humorous.”

  Great. He’d been inwardly laughing at her.

  But, she’d told him she wouldn’t get offended. And, she wasn’t. Not really. His tone and gaze seemed to say he found her chatter the endearing sort. “Thanks for telling me. Now I can laugh inwardly along with you. I’m glad you find me entertaining.”

  He tilted his head, a pause coming between his intake of breath and speaking as if he weighed his words. “There has not been much that is humorous in my life.”

  Her heart ached at that. Both for the pain of his words and at how much that small bit of honesty cost him.

  She wanted to ask about that past and pain. About his scars and the name Laesornysh. But he was only beginning to be this raw with her, and he needed to know he could trust her before she dug deeper into this wound.

  She reached out and gently rested a hand on his knee. She wanted to touch his face, run her fingers through his hair, but he probably wasn’t ready for that yet. Maybe he never would be if this remained nothing more than a platonic friendship.

  When he met her gaze, she hoped he could see the depth of her sincerity. “Then I am especially glad you find me humorous. I will endeavor to be plenty ridiculous. I may even see you smile some day.”

  Instead of the small tilt in an almost smile she’d been expecting, he turned his face away, the glimpse she’d caught in his eyes even more pained.

  Time to change the subject and let it drop.

  She withdrew her hand from his knee. “So what do we do now? I would love to see more of the palace and the city.”

  His expression faded back into his blank mask. “It would be...unusual for us to venture anywhere this week, but especially today.”

  A long sentence from him. Their talk must be making some progress. “I see. It would be unusual for a couple in my kingdom to go out and about the day after the wedding too. Though, considering our circumstances, it might not be totally unexpected.”

  Yet, Essie wasn’t sure she wanted to give the appear
ance of anything other than a happy couple. She was determined for this to work.

  “Why don’t we stay here and talk today?” Essie waved over her shoulder toward the main room. “Well, maybe not here specifically. Maybe down there where we can sit on those comfy cushions. At least I think they are comfy. I haven’t tested them out yet. Is that all right with you? I don’t even know how old you are or your favorite color or anything like that. And you can ask me questions. As you’ve probably learned, I would be happy to answer anything you want to ask. Then tomorrow maybe we can see some of Estyra. Touring the palace can wait.”

  Farrendel tilted his head in his version of a nod. “There is a back way to leave to visit Estyra. I would...like to avoid my family. They are protective.”

  Essie let her relief gust out in a sigh. “That sounds fine by me. It would be nice to be more sure of myself here before facing your protective siblings. I am even kind of glad my siblings are a kingdom away. They are just as protective of me and suspicious of you as your family is of me.”

  “I know.”

  She winced. “Yes, sorry about my brothers cornering you at the wedding. They probably would have been threatening even if I’d married a human, but they were more so because you’re an elf. Sorry.”

  “They value you.”

  “As your family does you.”

  He turned away, something in his eyes pained again.

  Did he doubt how his family loved him? Or did he doubt his own worth to his family?

  Essie couldn’t see how that could be. He was Laesornysh, the elves’ most feared warrior. Not to mention their little brother.

  Essie pushed to her feet. “I’ll meet you in the main room, if you want to wash up after your morning routine.”

  He would probably show up in the main room with his shirt on, and she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of disappointment at that. So she made sure she especially appreciated the play of his muscles as he rose to his feet.

  She swallowed and forced herself to turn away before her staring turned awkward.

  “Elspeth?”

  Essie froze. He’d said her name. Even if it was her whole name and sounded odd coming from him. It was the first time, and it sent something skittering through her stomach. A pleasant sort of skittering, the kind she would be happy to feel every day. Every minute of every day.

  She turned. “Yes?”

  Farrendel’s silver-blue eyes were focused on her, but as soon as she met his gaze, he looked away. “I do not regret marrying you.”

  He didn’t? Essie clasped her hands, so filled with...something that it was all she could do to stay where she was. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to hug him or grin or swoon in a puddle of gooey warmth right there.

  Instead, she forced herself to put on a soft smile. “I don’t regret marrying you either.”

  She spun and headed for the staircase to the main room before she could see his expression. She would know his reaction if he showed up in the main room after cleaning up.

  ESSIE MADE HERSELF comfortable on a stack of the cushions in the corner of the main room. All this really needed was a nice fireplace to make it the perfect place to curl up with a good book. Though, elves seemed to have a thing against fire. What did they do for heat in the winter? They must have a way to spell their houses to stay warm. What about snow? Those branch pathways would get awfully, dangerously slippery with ice and snow.

  How long would it take Farrendel to wash up? Essie tapped her fingers on one of the cushions. Too bad she didn’t have a book to read while she waited. As she had already snooped through all the cupboards that morning, there wasn’t much point in snooping through them again except to give herself something to do.

  She was just about to push herself to her feet when the door to Farrendel’s room opened, and he crept inside, moving with the wariness of a mouse that knew the cat was on the prowl.

  Farrendel lowered himself to a cushion a couple of feet away from her. He went perfectly still, staring at her as if expecting her to start talking.

  Well, that was she normally did. She probably should just start firing away with her questions. He wasn’t likely to start on his own.

  “Um, well, do you have any questions? Because I have a lot of questions. Don’t let me ask all the questions, all right?” Essie paused long enough for him to give her something that could almost count as a nod. She’d better come up with an actual question if she wanted to hear his voice instead of her own. Probably best to start with something easy and not too personal. “My favorite color is dark green. Mostly because of this.” She picked up her long braid and waggled it. “Green always looks good with my hair. Blue too. But the other colors can be iffy, depending on the shade. It makes it difficult when picking out fabric for dresses. But green is my dependable color. What’s your favorite color?”

  He stared back at her, head cocked, for several moments, as if still processing all the words she’d just spouted. “Blue.”

  One word. It was a start, right?

  Essie settled more comfortably on her cushions, leaning against the wall. What she wouldn’t give for a mug of hot chocolate or tea right about now. But this room didn’t seem to have anything for heating water, and Essie wasn’t going to ask a servant to cart a mug all the way from wherever this treetop palace’s kitchen was located. She tried to remain relaxed as she asked her next question. “How old are you?”

  He studied her, as if unsure of how she would react. “One hundred and five.”

  One hundred and five years old. Essie ran the calculations in her head. The baby stage for elves was about the same length as a human, but the growing stages kept getting longer from there. The teenage years lasted from about fifty to a hundred. “That makes you something like nineteen or so years old in human years.”

  Making her slightly older than him.

  Essie had to smother a snort. Instead of marrying someone far older than her, as Avie had feared, she’d actually married someone younger. Sort of. If someone a hundred and five years old could be considered young.

  Farrendel shifted, ducking his head. His hair fell across his face, hiding his expression and revealing the tips of his ears. “One hundred and five is scandalously young for an elf to marry.”

  “Nineteen is somewhat young for humans as well. Not scandalously young, though.” Essie shrugged. “I’m twenty. Does that make me a hundred and ten or twenty or something like that to you elves?”

  Farrendel gave her a tiny nod. “Still young. Elves consider it best to wait to marry until full maturity at one hundred fifty to two hundred.”

  “I guess when you have the luxury of nearly a thousand years of life, waiting doesn’t hurt. We humans tend to marry young. Not everyone does. Avie didn’t get married until he was twenty-three, and both Julien and Edmund will probably be at least that if not older before either of them even thinks about marriage. When you only live eighty to ninety years or so, every year counts.” Essie swallowed back an unexpected ache inside her chest. She’d only left Escarland a day ago. Surely, she couldn’t miss her family that quickly.

  But she had so much she already ached to tell them. This treetop palace. Her elven wedding. Farrendel. If Paige was here, they would’ve sat cross-legged on Essie’s bed and giggled about it all.

  Essie’s sister-in-law and best friend was far away in Escarland. Here, all Essie had was the far-too-silent elf sitting across from her, studying her with an inscrutable expression.

  She eased the smile back onto her face. “Do you have a question you would like to ask? I’ve asked two.”

  Farrendel glanced at her before looking away. “Why do your people shorten your names?”

  “Like a nickname?” Essie shrugged. “Usually because it is shorter and quicker to say than a person’s full name. But nicknames are also endearments. Usually only close family and friends will use a nickname. Don’t you use nicknames?”

  Farrendel shook his head, his gaze flicking to her before looking away. “No. O
ur names have meaning. To shorten them would take away the meaning.”

  That made sense. The meaning must be something deeper, more personal than the meanings human names had. “What does Farrendel mean?”

  He touched the strand of his hair falling over his shoulder. “Fair one.”

  Interesting that his hair was the feature pointed out in his name. Was there a deeper reason behind it? Something that answered why his hair color was so different than his siblings’. She tugged her braid over her shoulder. “I would’ve been named after my hair color too. It’s rather bright.”

  “It is pretty.”

  When she glanced up at him, he wasn’t looking at her. But the tips of his pointed ears poking through his hair looked a touch pink. Was he blushing?

  “I’m glad you think so. Back in Escarland, a lot of people dismiss it as a vulgar color. And they expect me to get angry easily because, of course, I must have a terrible temper.” She rolled her eyes.

  “Why would they think you have a temper?” Farrendel cocked his head, facing her once again.

  “For some reason, people associate red hair with getting angry easily. As if red hair has anything to do with it.” She shoved away all thoughts of the whispered insults she’d heard over the years. “Ask me another question.”

  He paused for a moment before he asked, “What is it like in your kingdom?”

  Not exactly a personal question. But he had to be curious. He’d fought the trolls, not her people. He likely didn’t know much about Escarland.

  Once Essie started talking, she found it all pouring out. About the city and palace where she’d grown up. About her family and growing up with three older brothers. About her friendship with Paige and how her friend had fallen in love with her brother.

  Farrendel turned out to be good at listening. He was quiet, but his gaze didn’t waver. A few times, he even asked questions to show he’d been listening. He cared enough to listen to her, even if he said little about himself or his own childhood. She had the impression there was something there. A hurt he wasn’t ready to tell her yet.