“In the human world, you make a wish when you see a falling star. Just don’t say it out loud, or it won’t come true!”
Tristan chuckles, but remains silent as I consider my wish, secretly hoping he made the same one. If webothwish for it, the power of it must double, right?
Not that I believe in the power of wishes.
Not really.
But if we both want to get to know each other better, and make the conscious choice to make it happen, then no magic will be necessary.
“It’s being very slow. In my world, you blink and they’re gone,” I say, breathing in the herby aroma permeating the warm cave. It’s almost like standing at the threshold of an open sauna.
“You try making a trek across the sky. Takes a while.” Tristan gently pulls me down to the moss, and this reckless, beautiful man sits with his legs dangling over the edge. I guess you don’t have to be afraid of heights when you have wings.
I take my place next to him with my heart pounding.
Only when I’m safely tucked under his arm can I think about what he just said.
“What do you mean when you say trek?”
Tristan kisses the top of my head. “It is said that’s a unicorn galloping down from the moon. Some elves think there’s only ever one.”
I swallow, sinking into him as I too hang my legs over the edge of the open cave mouth. There’s a thrill in doing this, butif the worst happened, I trust Tristan to save me before I hit the ground. “So… this means another one just died?”
“That would be the only explanation.” He points to the distance. “Somewhere far far away.”
I follow the trail drawn by his finger all the way to the shadowy mountains on the horizon and let his hoodie cushion my cheek. “That’s sad. It must be so lonely on its own.”
“I never thought about that. Only one of its kind. Like a human among elves, maybe it makes friends with the deer and wild horses and doesn’t feel alone at all?” Tristan whispers and kisses the side of my head.
My toes curl as a wave of heat spreads over my scalp, and I seek Tristan’s hand, squeezing it as we admire the stars. “Yes, but wouldn’t you sometimes miss a person who would really understand you?”
Tristan’s thumb plays with mine. “And who says that can’t be a human?”
Oh, God. He’s melting my heart as if it’s a popsicle.
“I understand what you’re getting at. I always got on with animals so much more easily than with people. Back when I was still in school, the other boys would target me, because I was different, softer than them,” I admit, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling brought on by the memories flooding back. “When it comes to friendship, I always got on better with girls. They understood my obsession with unicorns.” I chuckle, even though it’s a bit sad. I was lucky my grandparents were so understanding.
“Nothing wrong with gentleness.” Tristan underlines that with another kiss. “In fact, that’s what I prefer in a man. I’ve got enough muscle and temper for two. I’m sorry you were surrounded by such fiends.”
I swallow, because his words pass through me like wind blowing mist away from tall grass. Suddenly, I can breathe freelyagain, because he doesn’t sound dismissive, like some of my exes have been. He doesn’t expect me to shoulder my baggage forever and act as if it doesn’t continue hurting me.
Unaware of my thoughts, Tristan goes on, “before I even met my first human, my late father brought me a device from your world. No bigger than my hand, it had what he called headphones, and cassettes, and played music when you pressed buttons on it. I didn’t understand all the human lyrics, but it was like being transported to a whole new world. Like many things that come from your world, it deteriorated within a full moon. I’m now aware that it must have been the ‘batteries’ that actually—never mind, I talked about it a lot to some of the humans at court. What matters is that what I want to say is, yes, you will be different here, but some will love exactly that about you.”
Is he trying to charm me, or is he being sincere? Because just imagining a teenage Tristan roaming through an elven castle with a Walkman is so endearing I can barely contain a smile.
My chest heats up, and I bury my nose in the folds of his top. “Will it be safe? Amrath mentioned that the prince you were guarding was… killed?”
Tristan stays silent for long enough to start making me nervous. I’m about to take back my question when he speaks. “Our world is not without dangers, but you will be protected, and you will have a lot of time to adjust to this new world and its challenges. The prince, Kyranis, he… sent me away that day. He decided to go hunting on his own, and there was nothing I could do. We had a fight. I told him it was a bad idea at that time of the year, and maybe I should have followed anyway? I’ll never know, but his death will always be a stain on my conscience, even though Kyranis wasn’t a man of virtue.
“I was just twenty when my fate was sealed and I became the future Lord’s guardian and companion. I was trained with that in mind and took on that role gladly. Before I swore my oath tothe Nightweed family, I was restless. While this new assignment tied me down, it also gave me clear purpose. Something to be proud of. A place where I mattered. I lost all that when I was relieved of my duties.”
I’m at loss, sitting next to him while he pours out his heart, discussing the source of his shame. He’s not annoyed that I brought it up, nor defensive, and the sincerity of his words is so refreshing I can’t regret making him reminisce about the past. I did not want to hurt him, just trying to keep my guard up. Instead, his words lured me even closer and disarmed me.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he says quickly. “It’s for me to worry about. And I’ve not been idle. I’ve wanted to visit the human realm, to understand it better, so I eventually joined the Nightcloaks last year. But while I imagined I’d be trained to undertake important missions, just two months ago I spent weeks in an elven village, making a log of everyone who ate smuggled lemons to keep track of the gnarly symptoms they went through. I see the merit of the work, sure, but I’m no scholar. They should have sent someone else—Apologies. Look at me rambling about my problems when you’re the one uprooted and bravely facing a new life.”
I stop him and stroke his forearm, thirsty for more information. About him, his family. What can I do to make the veil of sadness lift from his eyes? “No, those things are important too. You, I mean, are important—” I stall, breathless as my cheeks start burning, because I’ve hit a roadblock and don’t know how to trace my steps back out of this embarrassing moment.
