by Tara Grayce
The tension eased from his shoulders. That hint of a smile tiptoed at the corners of his mouth.
“It’s so much better than coffee, right?” Essie nudged him gently with her elbow.
“Yes.” Farrendel took another sip.
“See? I’m not so outnumbered anymore.” Essie brandished her mug, as if making a toast. “Hot chocolate is better than coffee. Farrendel agrees with me.”
Beside her, Farrendel froze, as if worried her brothers would call him out on his opinion. But her brothers laughed, rolled their eyes, and reached for more coffee.
Once the roasting sticks were distributed, they toasted apples, sugar-covered dough, and marshmallows over the fire. Eating the treats with his fingers instead of utensils seemed to go against Farrendel’s sense of manners, and he kept glaring at the stickiness on his fingers as if it had personally offended him.
After an hour of stories and several mugs of hot chocolate, Farrendel was blinking wearily. Not that she blamed him. It was the middle of the night, and he hadn’t downed several mugs of coffee the way her brothers had.
Essie took his mug and gave him a nudge toward the two bedrolls set up behind them. “Get some sleep.”
With a bleary nod, he lurched from the bench, sank onto the bedroll, took off his boots, and curled between the layers of blankets and tarpaulin until only the top of his head and the ends of his hair were visible.
Essie yawned and stared into the fire. She probably should turn in as well, but the fire cast warmth onto her face and the palms she held out. The blanket kept the rest of her cozy, so warm and content she wasn’t ready to move.
Averett leaned his elbows on his knees, also staring into the fire. “I’m glad things have worked out so well between you and Farrendel. I feared I’d bargained away your chance at happiness.”
“Avie...” Essie rolled her eyes. How many times did she have to tell him everything had turned out fine?
“Just as long as you don’t get too mushy about it.” Julien scowled.
“It does make me wonder.” The serious tone to Edmund’s voice had Essie sitting straighter. Edmund met her gaze. “He’s an elf. He loves you, that much is plain to see. But what will happen when you age so much faster than he does? You’re going to be forty before he even reaches the elf equivalent of twenty-five.”
Essie tensed, looking down at her hands rather than holding Edmund’s gaze. She could feel Averett and Julien both staring at her, waiting for her answer.
This was an answer she had been dreading. Back in Estyra, it had been easy to accept what the heart bond with Farrendel might mean for her lifespan.
But here, sitting around the campfire with her brothers, a part of her ached. Would this closeness she had with her brothers fade if they aged faster than she did? Would her relationship with them start to look more like what Farrendel had with his much older siblings? A sibling relationship that almost verged on something parental?
“That probably isn’t what’s going to happen.” Essie struggled to find the words. A weariness pressed down on her, and she didn’t want to take the time to tell the whole story of Daesyn and Inara, the elf-human couple who had shared a heart bond long ago. “Elves have this magic heart bond that can sometimes occur. In an elf-human couple, heart bonds can have the effect that the human lives longer, as much as four hundred or five hundred years. And, well, Farrendel and I have already managed to form one. I don’t know if it will give me a long life or not, but there’s a good chance it will.”
Silence stretched, broken only by the crackling, popping of the fire. When Essie gathered the courage to raise her head, her brothers were studying her.
Edmund’s face quirked with a smile, even if it didn’t reach his eyes. “Are you going to get pointed ears or something?”
“No, I don’t think so.” Essie scratched at her ear. Still rounded. “The thing is, if I end up with an extra-long life, Farrendel’s life will be shortened. Apparently, that’s how it works. He willingly gives his years to me or something like that.”
“You think he will give up several hundred years for you?” Averett glanced into the darkness beyond Essie, though he wouldn’t be able to see Farrendel from where he was sitting.
She didn’t even have to think about her answer. “Yes.”
“THAT SHOULDN’T be possible.”
“It definitely isn’t normal.”
Reluctantly, Essie poked her head out from beneath the tarpaulin and blankets. It had been rather warm and cozy, curled up in a bedroll only inches away from Farrendel. Far closer than the space they usually kept between them.
But now she was alone, though the blankets remained warm. Dew coated the tarpaulin, the morning air cool against her face and in her lungs. The ground ached against her shoulder and hip where she’d lain on the ground all night.
“What do you think the elf king will do to us if his brother breaks his neck on our palace grounds?”
This comment was Julien’s and drew Essie’s gaze. Averett knelt by the fire pit, stoking the coals and adding logs, both kettles on the bench next to him to be re-heated. Behind him, Essie could just make out Edmund and Julien still sprawled on their bedrolls on the other side of the benches and fire pit.
She must have moved enough to draw Averett’s notice because he glanced in her direction and pointed upward. “Is this normal? Or is he just showing off?”
She tilted back her head until she spotted Farrendel high above in the trees, running along branches, flipping in the air, and spinning in kicks. At home in Estyra, he practiced much higher in the air, but somehow this looked more dangerous with the ground within sight.
Though, Essie was almost disappointed to note, he wore his shirt this morning. Too shy and proper around her brothers.
“If he was showing off, he’d have his shirt off.” Essie sat up, propped her elbows on her knees, and stared upward at Farrendel. He flipped in the air and landed gracefully on a branch that couldn’t have been more than two inches wide. “He practices like this every morning.”
Perhaps some of her breathlessness came through in her voice because Edmund snorted. “If you start drooling, I’m going to throw up.”
Such dramatics. Seriously. She wasn’t being that obnoxiously swoony over Farrendel. Locating the nearest stick, Essie chucked it at Edmund. Of course, with her throwing skills, the stick only made it as far as the fire where it bounced off a log and came to rest on one of the surrounding rocks.
She took a few minutes to brush her hair and braid it. When she was presentable, she crawled from her nice, warm bedroll and helped with breakfast. She fried the bacon in a pan while Julien added the eggs to his eggs-and-vegetable skillet. Averett prepared the coffee and hot chocolate while Edmund picked up their campsite.
Julien patted Essie’s shoulder. “There’s this pair of doctors—a husband and wife team—I’ve heard some of the men in the army talk about. They specialize in dealing with trauma, or so I’ve heard.”
There were doctors who specialized in that kind of thing? Essie glanced up to where Farrendel flipped back and forth between the tree branches. Could they help Farrendel? Though, surely if there was anything that could be done, the elves, with their skill in healing, would have done it already.
Still, it would be something to look into. “I don’t think we’ll have the time on this visit, but I’d be interested if you got their names.”
“I’ll look into them. Talk to those they’ve claimed they’ve helped to make sure they’re on the up and up.” Julien stirred the eggs one last time, then took the pan from the fire.
“Thanks.” Essie couldn’t put enough feeling into that word to convey how much Julien’s care for both her and Farrendel met.
Nodding and straightening, Julien stuck his fingers into his mouth and gave a shrill whistle.
Essie rolled her eyes. “He’s not a pet to be called with a whistle.”
Julien shrugged. “It’s the same whistle I use for the army recruits I’m tr
aining. Besides, it worked.”
Above them, Farrendel halted what he was doing. Essie waved. “Breakfast is ready.”
He jumped easily from branch to lower branch until he was about twenty feet in the air where he ran out of branches. Hopping from the branch, he flipped in the air and landed on the ground in a crouch, straightening fluidly as if the jump hadn’t been anything impressive.
Julien nudged Essie. “Are you sure he isn’t part cat?
She elbowed Julien back. Her brothers had gone straight from suspicion to welcoming him into the family with little brother teasing. “Be nice. I want him to like coming to visit the family.”
Julien just smirked as Farrendel approached the campfire. His shirt and face only held a few traces of sweat so he must not have worked out as long as normal. Between his exhaustion making him sleep later and the outdoor air making her get up earlier, it had shortened his time.
She put an arm around his waist and kissed his cheek, speaking quietly. “Did you sleep well?”
“Yes.” After a moment’s hesitation, Farrendel gave her the tiniest peck on her temple, the tips of his ears turning pink, as if that much pushing of the no-displays-of-affection-in-front-of-people rule was already too embarrassing for him.
“Come on, lovebirds. Have some bacon.” Averett pointed at the plates he had set in a row on one of the benches, the pieces of bacon carefully distributed so that everyone got an equal number.
After claiming plates, Essie and Farrendel took seats on their bench, and everyone dished out their own portions of the eggs and vegetables sprinkled with cheese.
Essie picked up her bacon with her fingers while Farrendel cut his bacon into bite-sized pieces and ate it with his fork.
When he caught her looking, he shifted and held up his hand. “My fingers are not greasy. It is more sanitary.”
“Probably. But less fun.” Edmund licked the grease from his fingers.
Farrendel’s nose wrinkled, and he went back to eating his bacon with his fork.
“After breakfast, how would you like to join us at the training yard for a while? We usually practice with heavy cavalry swords, but you can use whatever you prefer.” Averett’s tone was almost too casual. After Farrendel’s display of his athleticism that morning, her brothers had to be wondering what he could do. Their king, tactician, and spy mindsets would want to take Farrendel’s measure.
Earlier, she’d worried about pitting Farrendel and her brothers on the training yard. But that was before everyone had seemingly bonded so well. Now, a little sword practice would bond them further.
Farrendel glanced at her and spoke in elvish. “Do you think it is a good idea?”
Essie smirked at him, answering in Escarlish so that all her brothers would understand. “I think it’s a great idea.”
Essie held the pair of practice swords Farrendel had chosen while he tightened a leather bracer on his forearm. When he struggled to tie the ends one-handed, she leaned the swords against the fence that surrounded the dusty, gravel covered training yard. “Here, let me.”
Farrendel remained still while she tied the laces, then moved on to his right arm to tighten that bracer and tie it off for him.
A few feet away, her brothers were drawing straws to see who would fight Farrendel first. On the far side the training field, a few soldiers marched in formation for drill. Their commander might as well call a halt now. His carefully disciplined troops were about to be thoroughly distracted.
Farrendel picked up the iron practice swords, moving them up and down as if testing their weight and balance. They were shaped like the swords the army carried for hand-to-hand combat, slightly longer than the swords Farrendel normally used, but single-bladed instead of double. The practice swords had their edges rounded instead of sharpened. They could still break bone if swung hard enough, but they wouldn’t cut or stab.
Farrendel glanced at the huddle of her brothers, where Julien triumphantly held up the short stick, before turning back to her. “How much should I hold back? Should I let him win?”
It was adorable—if a little heartbreakingly sad—how much Farrendel wanted her brothers to like him.
Essie patted his chest. “Don’t you dare let him win. They’ll respect you far more if you beat them fair and square than let them take a cheap victory.”
“You do not mind if I beat them?” Farrendel tested the swords’ weights again, something in his stance sliding into the cold grace of a prowling cat.
“I’m counting on it.” Essie kissed his cheek. “Just don’t humiliate them too badly, all right?”
Farrendel’s answering smile held a dangerous glint. He lightly bounded up and over the fence surrounding the training yard and faced her brothers. “To make this a fair fight, I will face all three of you.”
Julien raised his eyebrows. “You have a very poor opinion of our skills.”
“If he wants to fight all three of us, I say let him.” Edmund swung his practice sword through an arc.
Averett glanced at Essie and met her gaze. She nodded, then smirked. How long was it going to take Farrendel to disarm all three of them? Two minutes? One?
“Essie’s smirking. We probably should be worried.” Averett turned back to the others. “All right then, the rules.”
He went over the rules, which were mostly that an opponent was defeated once he was disarmed and a few other miscellaneous rules about what to shout to surrender and stuff like that. One of the guards was called over to make sure everything was done by the book.
Averett, Julien, and Edmund spread out, practice swords in one hand. Farrendel waited, a sword in each hand, crouched but not tense.
Essie leaned against the fence. Her brothers weren’t going to know what hit them.
The guard blew the whistle. Farrendel leapt forward, straight at Averett. Averett stumbled backwards, raising his sword. Farrendel parried Averett’s sword, kicked up from the ground, and used Averett’s chest as a springboard into the air.
Averett tumbled backwards, his sword flicked from his hand by one of Farrendel’s swords.
Flipping in the air, Farrendel ripped Edmund’s sword from his grasp with his twin swords and kicked Edmund solidly in the chest. The momentum sent Edmund toppling toward the ground while Farrendel landed in a crouch.
Julien backed away, putting distance between him and Farrendel. Of Essie’s three brothers, he was the best with the cavalry sword. Thanks to modern weaponry, sword-fighting was quickly going out of style for everything but practice fights and dueling in the various human kingdoms. The hand-to-hand fighting taught by the army now focused more on the use of the bayonet, knives, and fists as a last resort.
That put Julien at a disadvantage when fighting Farrendel, who had trained not only more extensively with swords but also in a style humans couldn’t match.
Farrendel stalked after Julien, not giving him space or time. Farrendel struck, first with one sword, then with the other. Julien parried the first few strikes, but with his one sword to Farrendel’s two, he couldn’t block indefinitely.
On his next strike, Farrendel followed Julien’s parry and brought his other sword up, trapping Julien’s sword. With a spinning kick, Farrendel swept Julien’s legs out from under him while ripping his sword from his hands.
Julien landed on his back in the dirt.
Thirty seconds. Even shorter than Essie had guessed.
For a moment, Farrendel stood tense and battle ready. Then, he slowly straightened, lowering his swords to his sides, his gaze wary, as if he expected Essie’s brothers to be mad at him for defeating them so quickly.
Surely they wouldn’t be, would they? Essie tensed as well. All three of her brothers still sat or lay where they had fallen, having been defeated too fast for any of them to climb to their feet yet.
Then Edmund started to laugh. Within moments, Julien had joined him, followed by Averett sitting upright and chuckling in a more dignified manner.
Edmund rolled to his feet, still la
ughing. “That was spectacular.”
“Told you Essie’s smirk should have warned us.” Averett held out his hand, probably to have Edmund pull him to his feet.
Julien stuck out his hand to Farrendel. Farrendel stared, unmoving. Julien grinned and waggled his fingers. “You’re supposed to take my hand and pull me to my feet.”
“Like this.” Edmund yanked Averett upright so fast he stumbled.
Averett shoved Edmund. “More gently than that.”
Moving warily, Farrendel transferred both swords to one hand, gripped Julien’s offered hand, and awkwardly helped Julien upright. As soon as Julien let go, Farrendel swiped his hand on his trousers.
Edmund slung an arm over Farrendel’s shoulders as best he could since he stood several inches shorter. He grinned in Essie’s direction. “You’re right, Essie. He’s a keeper.”
“Told you.” Essie’s grin widened at the faint tinge of pink on the tips of Farrendel’s ears. He wasn’t used to being the center of attention quite like this.
Julien draped an arm across Farrendel’s shoulders from the other side. “What do you say? Think we should make it a more interesting fight this time?”
Farrendel had his elbows pulled tight to his sides, as if trying to put as much space between them as he could while being in the center of a brother-hug sandwich. “Yes?”
Averett rested an elbow on Edmund’s shoulder. “What did you have in mind?”
Julien swiveled all four of them to face the crowd of soldiers that had gathered at the far end of the training field. He raised his free arm, still gripping his training sword. “All right, boys! What do you think? Who would like to challenge the four royal brothers of Escarland? The more the merrier!”
Some of the soldiers roared and hopped the fence to enter the training field. Others glanced at each other, as if unsure, while a few glared at Farrendel as if they wanted to fight him, but not in practice.
Essie straightened. What did Julien think he was doing? Yes, it had been fun to see Farrendel take out her brothers so quickly, but to pit him against a horde of Escarland soldiers? That was too much like a real fight, wasn’t it? “Avie?”
