Fierce Heart (Elven Alliance Book 1)

by Tara Grayce

  The grass and moss covering what served as a street was still green, without patches of dirt as Essie would’ve expected from a place highly trafficked. Only magic could keep grass that green while it was being trampled.

  Though, the elves didn’t trample it as much as would be expected. The grass bent around their feet, their steps so light and soft they almost seemed to float above the ground.

  As she and Farrendel joined the sedate, ambling elves on the street, a few of the elves gave them sidelong glances. Not that Essie would have expected anything less. The elves’ youngest prince was married to—and holding hands with—a human princess. Of course that would get a few looks.

  Most of the looks were too blank for her to read. Some of the elves narrowed their eyes and their mouths tightened in what Essie guessed was an elven grimace.

  But others watched her and Farrendel pass with something almost like curiosity. They didn’t smile, but at least they seemed to see possibilities.

  After winding off the main street onto a side road, Farrendel pulled her toward the base of a tree where tables—spindly tables that looked like they had grown there—were placed underneath a spreading canopy of either leaves or fabric, Essie couldn’t tell.

  “Hungry?” Farrendel steered her into the short line that waited before the counter at the rear of the shop.

  “Yes.” Essie rubbed a hand over her stomach. She hadn’t taken the time to eat breakfast before leaving, though Farrendel had probably eaten when he’d gotten up insanely early in the morning. Her stomach had rumbled the entire walk here. With his elven hearing, had Farrendel been able to hear it?

  When it was their turn, the elf woman behind the counter smiled at Farrendel, though her smile turned tight as she glanced at Essie. Essie wasn’t sure how old the woman was, but something about her seemed mature.

  The woman spoke to Farrendel in elvish. Farrendel glanced at Essie, smiled, then replied in Escarlish. “Yes, she is. Essie, what would you like?”

  Essie couldn’t read the menu board on a stand next to the elf woman nor did she have any idea what sort of breakfast foods a place like this would serve here in Estyra. She smiled back at Farrendel. At least he was politely keeping his side of the conversation in Escarlish so she could understand. “I’m sure all of it is wonderful. Surprise me.”

  Farrendel gave the order in elvish. Possibly because the elven dishes didn’t have a good translation into Escarlish. Farrendel handed over a few coins from a pouch at his waist, then turned away, probably headed for a table.

  As they turned, Essie caught a glimpse of the hard stare the elf woman was giving her, the look more antagonistic now that Farrendel’s back was turned. This elf didn’t like Essie. Was it because she was human? Or because she’d married Farrendel? Both? Essie wasn’t sure.

  Farrendel led her to a table on the far side of the café. The table nestled against the base of the tree and was sheltered from the street and most of the café by one of the tall, spreading tree roots.

  Essie took a seat in one of the chairs. It gave a little beneath her, as if the wooden legs still held some of the bend of a living tree. She glanced back the way they’d come, then lowered her voice. “She didn’t like me very much, did she?”

  Farrendel slipped into the seat across from her and shook his head, making his long hair slide across his shoulders. “No.”

  “We’ll probably get a lot of that today. I expected as much. If I were to walk hand in hand with you down the streets of Aldon, we would probably get more than a few angry stares. We’d probably have to endure shouted insults and maybe even a few rotten vegetables thrown at us. At least elves don’t seem prone to such outright, impolite displays of anger.” Essie resisted the urge to reach across the table to hold his hand again. Funny how she missed it, even if they’d only held hands with two fingers. It had felt surprisingly right, even walking in a foreign place like Estyra, to be walking beside him.

  Farrendel’s gaze was focused on the tabletop rather than at her. “Humans are disliked here. But you are not the enemy to us the way we are to you. In the last war, you were but a nuisance that had to be repelled so we could fight the real danger.”

  “The trolls.” Essie said it softly. He was Laesornysh, and it had been the trolls he’d fought in that war. Trolls who had given him the scars he was so ashamed of. Trolls who had captured him and...had they tortured him? Her stomach churned, and she pushed the thought away. Now wasn’t the time to ask nor was she sure she wanted more of an answer to that question than Farrendel’s scars already told.

  Farrendel nodded. “We lost far more to the trolls than we did to your people. While humans are resented, they are not hated.”

  “That still doesn’t make anyone here particularly happy about me marrying you, not even to ensure peace between our peoples.” Essie glanced around, but no one sat close enough to hear their conversation.

  “The resentment has more to do with the fact that humans are not elves than that we were once at war with you.” Farrendel flicked a glance at her before focusing on the tabletop again.

  “Ah, I see.” He’d told her elves valued perfection highly. So highly they would find the battle scars of their greatest warrior disgusting. “Humans are rather annoyingly flawed, after all. Not exactly perfect.”

  “No, humans are not perfect. But I have seen that my people are not without their flaws, even if they do not acknowledge them. It can be just as much of a flaw to idolize surface perfection.”

  Essie bit her tongue to keep from agreeing out loud. She didn’t want to sound like she was complaining about his people.

  Farrendel finally raised his head and met her gaze. “But you will have an easier time being married to me than if you had married a different elf. I am already known for my flaws.”

  “Because of your scars.”

  “Yes, among other things.” Farrendel looked away once again.

  At that moment, a younger elf woman approached their table carrying a tray with food balanced on one hand. She spoke in elvish to Farrendel, smiling and...did she just bat her eyes? Or the elven, equivalent, anyway. She cocked her hips as she set the plates on the table, Farrendel’s set gently in front of him while Essie’s was bobbled and probably would have fallen into her lap if Essie hadn’t caught it.

  Knowing the elves’ propensity for gracefulness, the bobble wasn’t an accident.

  Farrendel didn’t smile at the young elf woman. He barely glanced at her as he said something in elvish. Something so impassive and cold it sounded more like the Farrendel Essie had met that first day than the one she’d gotten to know in the days since.

  The young elf woman shot a glare at Essie, whirled, and sashayed off. Essie snorted a laugh. It had been a while since she had seen such purposeful sashaying. That elf woman had her cap set for an elven prince, that much was certain, and wasn’t too happy having the prince snatched out of her grasp by a human.

  When Essie faced Farrendel again, his head was cocked and one eyebrow tipped up. “You do not look offended.”

  “Oh, her actions were offensive, but I can hardly stay offended when her attempts to flirt with you failed so miserably.” Essie picked up the fork-like utensil. There were only three prongs, but they were long and slim.

  “I am sorry. She is the daughter of this café’s owner.” Farrendel picked up his own fork. “We were friends. Years ago. That gave her ideas that we could be more than friends.”

  “Relationships can get complicated as they change. It must get more so when you live so long.” Essie was too hungry to keep talking. She filled her fork with a bite of the food. It looked like a fancy omelet layered over some vegetable on the base, but she wasn’t sure what all was in it. It didn’t matter. She stuffed it in her mouth. She gave a groan, swallowed, and wolfed down another bite. “What is this? It’s amazing.”

  “Srilysh. It is partridge eggs with various vegetables over one of our carili peppers.”

  Essie dug into the breakfast. She ha
d her plate polished off even before Farrendel finished his. She was tempted to steal a few bites from his plate, but they weren’t up to that level of sharing in their relationship yet. Two days of marriage was probably a little too soon to start stealing his food.

  As soon as Farrendel finished, he stood and reached for Essie’s hand. She smiled and twined her fingers with his. She didn’t even care that the café owner and her daughter glared at them as they left.

  As they set off down the street, Farrendel glanced over his shoulder at the café. “I am sorry for how they treated you.”

  “I am a human married to their prince. I didn’t expect to be welcomed with open arms.” Essie kept her voice light and cheery. She refused to let the attitude of one miffed café owner bring her down.

  “But I expected different. From them, at least.”

  “They are friends of yours?” Essie wasn’t sure she liked that thought. The young elf woman was stunningly beautiful, even if Farrendel seemed immune to her flirting.

  “Yes.” Farrendel turned down an even smaller, winding street farther away from the main bustle of Estyra. “Lislela’s husband was killed in the war.”

  “On the front with my kingdom or against the trolls?” Essie wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer. It made the elf woman’s anger all too real.

  “Your kingdom. But I thought my patronage would be enough to overcome the sting.”

  Essie squeezed his fingers. “It’s all right. I understand. Truly I do. It’s no easy thing to overcome the war and bloodshed that happened between our people. My people haven’t been able to forgive and forget, and twenty years is a long time for us. For your people, twenty years is nothing. Not nearly enough time for anyone to begin to heal.”

  “Perhaps not.” He tugged her closer as they meandered between small shops tucked into the trees. Above them, rope bridges swung, connecting a second level of shops in the trees. “But I know your reception at this next shop will be better.”

  With their fingers still linked, Farrendel led Essie between two shops to a set of small stairs winding their way up the side of one of the massive trees. About twenty-five feet in the air, they reached a platform that connected to several swinging rope and wood bridges. Farrendel led her across one, and they entered a small shop built around one of the trees, balanced on its spreading lower branches.

  As soon as they stepped inside, a barrage of sweet scents filled Essie’s nose. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It smelled like a garden with all the flowers blooming at once.

  But it wasn’t a garden. When she glanced around, she spotted rows of shelves curving around the tree’s trunk on the inside of the shop. Jars lined neatly on the shelves, filled with a similar, viscous substance to what she had been guessing was elven shampoo that morning.

  “Is this...does this shop sell elven shampoo? Like for my hair? Or your hair, I guess. Is this where you get it? Because whatever you use on your hair must be amazing because it’s always so perfect.” Essie winced and bit her lip. She hadn’t meant to say all of that out loud. “It’s probably more elven magic, isn’t it?”

  An elf woman bustled from around the far side of the shop, her long, blond hair hanging to her waist in the most shimmering, sleek perfection Essie had ever seen. While Essie couldn’t be sure on her exact age, the elf woman seemed slightly older than Farrendel. More mature, but not as old as the elf woman who ran the café.

  This shopkeeper swept a glance over them and a smile crossed her face. She spoke in elvish to Farrendel and reached out to grip his upper arm with only one hand.

  That’s when Essie caught sight of the stump of the elf woman’s right arm just below her elbow. Essie dragged her gaze up to the elf woman’s face and didn’t let her smile slip.

  Farrendel glanced from Essie to the elf woman, saying something in elvish. Essie caught her name and the elvish word for either bride or wife, she wasn’t entirely sure. Then Farrendel turned to Essie with a nod in the elf woman’s direction. “This is Illyna.”

  “It is a pleasure to meet you.” Illyna inclined her head in what seemed a formal, stiff bow compared to the warmth she’d greeted Farrendel with a moment ago. But it wasn’t an angry sort of stiffness. She was wary. Tense. “The rumors have been swirling in Estyra about the human princess our Laesornysh brought home.”

  Our Laesornysh. There was something about the way Illyna said it. Not with the hushed tones of someone worshipping their hero or with disdain over what the name implied. More like she had fought alongside him. Had gained her scars where he had gained his.

  “You fought against the trolls, didn’t you?” Essie kept her voice soft and didn’t let her eyes so much as flicker down to Illyna’s missing hand.

  If anything, Illyna stiffened further. Her gaze darted from Essie to Farrendel.

  Farrendel’s fingers tightened around Essie’s. “She was with the unit who rescued me.”

  And had lost a hand in Farrendel’s rescue? Or had the loss of the hand come later, in the final battles of that war? Essie wasn’t going to ask. All that mattered was this woman had helped rescue Farrendel. Had seen him bloody and battered from torture and didn’t turn away in disgust like many of the elves. Perhaps because she too carried her own scars and what the other elves deemed a disfigurement. An unsightly blemish.

  Essie stepped forward. “Can I give you a hug? A real, human hug? Because you deserve a hug for helping rescue Farrendel from the trolls.”

  “A human hug?” Some of the wariness drained from Illyna shoulders.

  “Yes. Like this.” Essie pulled her hand free from Farrendel’s and eased her arms around Illyna in a gentle hug. Not like the leaping, enthusiastic bear hug she would’ve given one of her brothers, but she didn’t want to scare Illyna more with such a boisterous invasion of personal space.

  Essie stepped back after only a moment. Hopefully Illyna wasn’t too offended. Or at least tolerated the human interaction.

  But a small smile crept across Illyna’s face. “I see the rumors have been wrong. But I should have known. Our Laesornysh does not let people into his life without good reason.”

  Essie glanced at Farrendel, but he was half-turned away from her, the tip of his pointed ear pink beneath his silver-tinted skin. The elven version of a blush.

  Illyna’s smile widened, as if she enjoyed making Farrendel uncomfortable. It struck Essie then that, even now with Illyna’s teasing, Farrendel was more comfortable here than he’d been with his own family. This Illyna seemed more a sister to him even than Jalissa, though Jalissa cared enough for him to threaten Essie about his happiness. Why did Farrendel feel so out of place with his family? Was it because they didn’t understand him and his scars the way someone who had fought in the war would?

  Except his brother King Weylind had also fought. He’d led the elven armies. Yet the tension remained there as well.

  There was some secret Essie had yet to figure out. One it was unlikely anyone would tell her, nor did she dare ask. Making it rather difficult to figure out until something clicked into place.

  Essie couldn’t spend time contemplating it now. She shrugged. “I’m beginning to be really curious about these rumors.”

  “I am sure you are.” Illyna waved to her shop. “But you are not here to trade gossip. You are here for some of my products.”

  Hair products. Essie would gladly let herself be distracted by that. “What do you have for shampoo? Not that I need anything. The shampoo I was given will work fine.”

  Illyna reached out, lifted a lock of Essie’s hair, and sniffed it. “No, it will not. Basic grass is a perfectly reasonable scent to keep on hand for guests when you want a generic smell, but it is not suitable for a princess.”

  Essie wasn’t sure what to make of that. It was a good thing she’d already crossed personal space boundaries or she might have been more shocked. At least she didn’t have to feel bad about not liking that grass smell since it was meant to be just a basic smell, the way unperfumed soap
was used back in Escarland.

  “Farrendel, unless you need anything, you might wish to step out and come back in an hour or so.” Illyna pressed her right forearm to Essie’s back to steer her further into the shop.

  Essie glanced over her shoulder. Farrendel was shifting, glancing between her and the door as if he wasn’t sure if he should abandon her. Essie sent him a grin and waved before she turned back to Illyna. She was more than happy to explore the wonders that elven shampoo had to offer.

  BY THE TIME Farrendel returned, Essie had learned far more about elven shampoo than she’d realized there was to know. Apparently it was magic. Doubly magical, since the plants used to make the shampoo were infused with magic, then Illyna added more magic as she made the shampoo.

  Illyna also custom tailored each shampoo for each elf’s—or human’s—hair. She spent a lot of time rubbing, smelling, and touching Essie’s hair. Turned out personal space only existed for certain parts of elf life. When Illyna was done assessing Essie’s hair, she had Essie sniff several of the scents to pick out her favorite—or mix together if she desired—and gave her several samples to take home to figure out which worked best for her hair. Illyna would create a shampoo specifically for Essie and have it delivered to the palace in a few days.

  Essie also discovered that the elves had far more hair products than just shampoos. They also had something called conditioner that was apparently responsible for most of the gleaming, shimmering silkiness of their hair along with several other oils. Not to mention lotions for face and hands. No wonder the elf women were so beautiful with all the magical beauty products they had on hand.

  As Farrendel reached Essie’s side, Essie put back the lotion she had been considering. She didn’t need it, and it wouldn’t do to tread too heavily on Farrendel’s generosity on her second full day of marriage to him.