by Tara Grayce
Essie held up her filled mug. “I’m thinking a picnic and hot chocolate in the back garden. I left a pile of blankets by the door. If we’re lucky, we’ll have a clear night, and we’ll be able to star-gaze.”
“Perfect.” Farrendel reached over her to claim his mug.
Between the two of them, they carried the picnic basket, the blankets, and their mugs of hot chocolate to the garden. Snuggling on a bench, they ate their supper, sipped their hot chocolate, and lingered there as twilight faded into a star-speckled night.
Warm and wrapped in blankets, Essie fell asleep curled against Farrendel’s chest.
ESSIE SAT AT THE SMALL dressing table in their turret room, pinning up her hair. She’d been tempted to ask a maid to walk to Buckmore Cottage for tonight to help with her hair, but, in the end, she’d gotten used to making do. Besides, this was her and Farrendel’s last night before he left for Tarenhiel. It wouldn’t be fair to the poor maid to get stuck in potentially awkward situations.
After pinning another lock of her hair into the chignon at the back of her head, she smoothed the skirt of her deep green dress and considered her reflection in the mirror. It was strange seeing the human hair style with her elven dress. But it was, perhaps, a good strange. Right, somehow.
One more lock of hair stuck out at the nape of her neck. She tucked it into place and stuck in a pin to hold it there. Finally, she picked up the elven circlet that matched Farrendel’s and tucked it into her hair. Perfect.
She picked up the pair of elbow-length silk gloves she’d set to the side and pulled them on. There. She might not have the massive skirt in the style that was fashionable in Escarland, but with this mix of elven and Escarlish fashion, no one could mistake her for anything other than a princess.
What was taking Farrendel so long? He’d retreated to the water closet to get ready for the ball tonight and had yet to return. What was he doing in there? It wasn’t like he had to spend hours doing his hair. He would wear it down like he always did, and, thanks to elven shampoo and conditioner, he didn’t have to worry about frizz.
She turned back to her mirror. Was her circlet resting slightly crooked on her head?
She adjusted her hair. As she straightened the circlet, the door to their room opened and shut behind her. Due to the angle, she couldn’t see the door in her mirror. “I was starting to worry about you. You usually don’t take that long to...”
She trailed off as she turned around. Farrendel stood a few feet into the room, his gaze flicking from her to the floor, as if uncertain of her reaction. Instead of his usual elven tunic and trousers, he wore gray, Escarlish breeches tucked into his tall elven boots. He had a crisp white shirt underneath a gray waistcoat and a tight, black tailcoat that fit his shoulders and waist too exactly to be anything other than tailored for him. To complete the outfit, a white neckcloth lay just a fraction askew.
He motioned at it. “I could not get this right. It seems I did not practice long enough.”
Essie slid to her feet, still gaping. She squeezed her eyes shut. She must be seeing things.
Nope. Farrendel still stood there in full Escarlish finery.
“You’re dressed in...where did you even get those clothes?” Essie tiptoed closer, as if he would disappear if she made any sudden moves. If she’d been strange with her Escarlish hairstyle and elven dress, then he was stranger still with his silver-blond hair flowing across the finely tailored shoulders of his tailcoat.
“Your brothers helped.” Farrendel’s gaze swung to the floor, looking for all the world like he wanted to scuff his boot against the floor, though he remained stock still. “You adopted my people’s manner of dress even here. I could do no less.”
It was a strategic political move and wouldn’t go unnoticed at the ball. Her, a human princess, dressed as an elf. Him, an elven prince, dressed as a human.
But he hadn’t done this for politics. At least, not only for politics. He’d done this for her. To show her that he was just as willing to embrace her people as she had been to embrace his.
She closed the remaining distance between them, something sizzling in the air. She didn’t know where to put her hands and settled for straightening the neckcloth. “You look very dashing.”
The tight and tailored fashion in Escarland accentuated the slimness of his waist, the line of his shoulders. Even through the layers of shirt and tailcoat, her fingers felt his warmth. His strength.
She was leaning into him, her face tipped up to meet his gaze. “Farrendel...” His name whispered out on a breath.
Then she was kissing him. How much did they really need to attend the ball tonight?
Farrendel eased the kiss from her mouth to her cheek. “You are messing up my hair.”
She laughed, tucking her head against his neckcloth. His hands were on her back, and, as far as she could tell without a mirror, he had nicely kept from messing up the hairstyle she’d spent nearly an hour perfecting. How he’d managed to have that much presence of mind, she didn’t know.
It took immense self-control, but she forced herself to ease back from him. If she didn’t, they’d end up late for the banquet being held in their honor.
When she inspected the damage her fingers had done to Farrendel’s hair, she huffed. “You have, maybe, one hair out of place. Is it even possible to mess up your hair?”
She ruffled a section of his hair. He ducked away from her hand, grimacing. His hair floated back into place. Yep, definitely magical hair or conditioner or both.
“Nope. Apparently, it’s impossible for your hair to look anything but perfect.” This time when she reached out, she ran her fingers through his hair, smoothing the two strands that were out of place. As his hair trailed over her hand, it sparked a thought. “You sense what’s around you with your hair, right? The air drafts or something like that, as far as I can figure out. How much would it bother you to have your hair tied back for an evening? Short hair is currently the fashion in Escarland, but long hair used to be fashionable about a hundred years ago. Not quite this long. More shoulder length for men. Anyway, the men would tie it back. It would give your hair a more human hairstyle. But you don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”
Farrendel went still beneath her hand. After several moments, he tipped his head. “While I will need to be alert, my senses will be confused with so many people pressed close. If you think that tying back my hair will help tonight, then I will.”
How were her knees going this weak and mushy over something like a hairstyle? But it said a lot, that he was willing to tie back his hair for her.
“Just for tonight. You can go back to wearing it loose just as soon as the ball is over. Come on.” Essie tugged him toward her dressing table and nudged him into her chair. “Let me.”
He held himself stiff, back straight, in her chair. She reached for her hairbrush but stopped. If he could sense air stirring behind him, then either his hair or his scalp was rather sensitive. The hairbrush would probably hurt.
Not that his hair needed the aid of a hairbrush to detangle it. It glided over her fingers as she finger-combed from his scalp to the ends of his long, split-end free strands. As she gathered his hair, his shoulders relaxed, his spine melting back against the chair. Apparently, having one’s hair played with relaxed elves just as much as it did humans.
She could see it all too clearly. Farrendel sitting on the floor, a crowd of nieces around him, braiding his hair, adding bows and ribbons and sparkling hair pieces while he willingly let them.
Or, maybe not nieces. Maybe daughters. Daughters with pointed ears like his and auburn hair like Essie’s brother Averett. Not her own flaming red hair. She didn’t yet love her hair color enough to wish it on daughters, even if Farrendel liked it.
Her fingers stilled. They’d been so focused on building their relationship in the here and now that long-term future plans hadn’t come up. It was hard to plan that far ahead with the war looming over them.
She cleared her throat,
hoping Farrendel couldn’t tell how pink her face must be if he glanced up at the mirror. After locating a black ribbon, she tied it around his hair in a manly knot, making sure it wasn’t too tight. “How’s that? Does it hurt, at all? Don’t be afraid to tell me. Believe me, I know the headache you can get from having your hair slicked back too tight or a hairpin jabbed into your scalp.”
He cocked his head, his gaze focused on the mirror. With his hair tied back, the tapered points of his ears were even more obvious. Perhaps tying his hair back wouldn’t make him look more human after all, though it did complete the overall look. Finally, his gaze lifted to meet hers in the mirror. “It does not hurt.”
By his tone, she couldn’t tell if he liked it or hated it. The fact that he had gone blank and flat-toned probably meant he didn’t like it all that much.
She rested her elbows on his shoulders, wrapping her arms around his neck. “It’s all right to say if you don’t like it. Don’t feel like you have to change your appearance for me. Not your hair or your clothes or anything, all right?”
His eyes widened, and he twisted to look at her rather than the mirror. “Is that how you felt in Estyra?”
The horror in his voice brought a smile. “No. I was more than happy to ditch my Escarlish clothes for Tarenhieli ones. Your women wear trousers, and no one thinks anything of it. And I can just let my hair stay down and loose without spending nearly an hour each day pinning it up. I was more than happy to change my style of hair and dress.”
“I am happy to change tonight.” He glanced back at himself in the mirror. “But I think only for tonight.”
“Well, I think you’ll be the most dashing man there no matter what you’re wearing.” She traced his ear with a finger, her head close to his as she leaned against his shoulders.
“Essie...” His voice had a tight, almost strained note to it she’d never heard before. “I think if you want to arrive on time, then we had better leave.”
When he turned to face her, his expression was the soft, yearning one he got right before he kissed her. But he didn’t close the distance. She didn’t either.
The attraction she felt for him now was different than it had been. Yes, she loved his muscles. His scars. His looks. But, deeper than that, she loved his heart. She loved his protective fierceness that gained him those muscles and scars. She loved the vulnerability in his eyes when he admitted something personal to her. The shy look he had when attempting to flirt. The gaping wonder when he tried hot chocolate for the first time, and the way he smiled when she prattled on about nonsense.
Love was a choice. But it was also a deep companionship. A sacrifice. A moving emotion far less fleeting than a mere feeling. And it was choosing again and again to focus on the companionship and love rather than whatever anger or annoyance that arose between two people stuck together for any length of time.
And, perhaps, because love was all those things, that’s what made it so complicated and hard at times.
With him looking at her like that, it took all of her will power to straighten and smile her most oblivious, perky smile. Picking up his crown from the end of her dressing table, she set it on his hair. “Well, then. I guess we’d better go.”
He glided to his feet and held out his arm. Instead of resting her hand on his forearm in the elven style, Essie tucked her hand around his upper arm, her fingers against his bicep. Honestly, the reason for the elven style was making much more sense. It was much easier to concentrate on walking with her hand lightly on his forearm rather than pressed against his muscle. Seriously distracting.
“Here.” Essie nudged his elbow so that he didn’t hold his arm out so far. “You can relax your arm. Let it stay almost loose at your side. That’s it.”
With his arm relaxed instead of tensed, the feel of his muscles beneath his shirt and tailcoat were much less distracting.
He took a step toward the door, but she halted him. She had one last thing she needed to say before they stepped out of the safety of this room and faced the front lines that was Escarland’s court. When he glanced back at her, she touched his cheek. “Before my elven wedding to you, Jalissa told me to hold my head high and never let them make me feel ashamed for being human. The same goes for you now. Hold your head high tonight and please don’t let anyone make you feel ashamed for being an elf.”
Farrendel tipped his head in a nod. Then, together, they left their room and took the staircase down to the main foyer.
Jalissa already waited there in a green dress a few shades lighter than Essie’s. Her guard waited a few paces behind her, hands clasped behind her back. Essie had yet to convince the elf guard to say a single word to her.
At Essie and Farrendel’s approach, Jalissa cocked an eyebrow. “You are late.”
Essie patted Farrendel’s arm. “I was distracting him.”
When she glanced up at him, the tips of his ears were flushing pink, something that was rather noticeable with his hair tied back.
Jalissa gave a ladylike sigh that was the elven equivalent of a snort and a roll of her eyes. With a tip of her head, Jalissa swept toward the back doors. Her guard fell into step behind her.
Farrendel and Essie followed out the double doors to the garden, then along the path that led from Buckmore Cottage to the garden of Winstead Palace. From the garden, they entered the double doors at the end of the family wing and found her family gathering there.
Her family turned as they entered. Edmund strode forward and gave Farrendel a slap on the back that had him stumbling a step. “Looking good, little brother.”
That was the moment Essie noticed all three of her brothers were dressed identically to Farrendel in gray breeches, gray waistcoat, black tailcoat, white shirt, and white neckcloth. Granted, it was a standard ballroom clothing, but the fact that they were all matching wasn’t a coincidence.
It melted a part of her to know her brothers were willing to work this hard to make sure Farrendel felt included in the family. From the moment they’d decided to accept him as one of their own, they hadn’t held back.
Mother and Paige were both dressed in flowing elven dresses made from the fabric Farrendel brought for them with diamond-studded tiaras in their hair.
Whatever political statement the royal family was making tonight about this marriage alliance and what it meant for broader political relations between Escarland and Tarenhiel, they were making it together as a united front.
If she hadn’t been all done up for a ball, Essie would’ve hugged all of them.
This was what she’d wanted from her marriage when she’d agreed to it. A peaceful alliance between their kingdoms. To have gotten it and fallen in love with her elf prince was a dream beyond what she could’ve imagined.
Averett’s mouth tightened into a line, his eyes serious as he glanced between them. “Do you all have your weapons?”
Essie patted her upper calf. Her derringer was strapped to the inside of her leg just below her knee, the only place she could think of where it wouldn’t show even while she was dancing while still being somewhat easy to grab without hiking her skirt to her waist. Mother and Paige both patted their calves.
Julien and Edmund nodded, though Essie wasn’t sure where they could have hidden guns or knives or whatever weapons they were carrying. Their tight, finely tailored clothes didn’t have any more hiding places than her flowing dress did.
“Do you have the extra knives I sent over?” Julien glanced at Farrendel. “I figured a few extra wouldn’t hurt. And you did conveniently gift us with a few elven daggers, so we had spares.”
“Yes.” Farrendel tipped his head in his slight nod, though he didn’t give any indication of where he might have hidden the knives.
“Now that we are fashionably on time, let’s make our grand entrance.” Paige smiled in her practiced, queenly way as she wrapped her hand around Averett’s elbow.
Julien escorted Mother, and Edmund looked cat-with-cream happy over holding out his elbow for Jalissa, even if
her guard fell into step behind them looking like she was prepared to behead Edmund on the spot if necessary.
Essie took Farrendel’s elbow once again, pasting on her practiced smile. “Ready?”
His expression hardened into an impassive mask before his mouth twisted. An attempt to remember to appear friendly. Well, stoically friendly wasn’t exactly working.
She kissed his cheek, making his expression soften. There. Now he was ready.
ESSIE STOOD AT THE TOP of the stairs leading into the ballroom, waiting while each of her family members were announced by a footman with a particularly booming voice.
“Princess Elspeth of Escarland and her husband, Prince Farrendel of Tarenhiel.”
Essie gave her regal wave, grateful when Farrendel copied her a moment later. After a single wave, Essie gave Farrendel a subtle nudge, and they descended the stairs together.
In the ballroom, people were mingling and chatting, sipping from glasses of the punch and champagne and nibbling on the selection of appetizers to tide them over until the formal banquet.
This would be one of the hardest parts of the night. Small talk wasn’t Farrendel’s favorite thing to do, and they desperately needed him to make a good impression tonight.
“Princess Elspeth!” One of the young ladies around Essie’s age hurried toward Essie with a gaggle of other young ladies trailing behind her.
Essie stifled her groan behind her perfect princess smile. Lady Fristly. She was nice enough, when on her own. But at court functions, she tended to cling to Essie and pretend she was Essie’s best friend.
Next to her, Farrendel had dropped his attempt at friendliness and had gone fully hard and stoic.
“We missed you so terribly when you left. You were so brave, marrying an elf you’d never met. I would never be able to do something so brave.” Lady Fristly’s brow puckered. “I feel so sorry for you, Princess Elspeth. It must be so terrible to have to be in a loveless marriage to someone who can’t understand you, for a political alliance. I am here for you if you ever need to talk.”
