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Farrendel tensed, shifting to place his shoulder partially in front of Essie.
Behind him, Essie clenched her fists, resisting the urge to reach for her derringer. They weren’t supposed to let Charles Hadley know they suspected him, yet her skin crawled being so close when he could be plotting to kill Farrendel that night.
Mr. Hadley glared at Farrendel and muttered something under his breath about pointed ears and a few other words not fit for polite society.
Next to him, his son Mark nudged him. “Please, Father. Be polite.” Turning, Mark grinned and held out a hand to Farrendel. “Nice to meet you again.”
Farrendel solemnly shook his hand. After all the practice he’d had during his visit to Escarland, he managed not to flinch.
Essie held out her hand for Mark to bow over. “I hope you have a pleasant evening tonight. You as well, Mr. Hadley.”
Mr. Hadley’s scowl remained in place. “Awful waste of resources, to celebrate an elf like this.”
Essie gritted her teeth and somehow managed to keep her smile in place. She didn’t know how to reply to that.
Mark shook his head. “Father. Please don’t be rude. This is a celebration of our princess, regardless of the man she married.”
“Hmph.” Mr. Hadley snorted again.
As Essie made polite excuses and pulled Farrendel away again, she let out a breath. “That was close. I fear this is how the rest of the night is going to go.”
Farrendel nodded and said in elvish, “My family rarely hosts the full elven court, but when they do, I fear our reception would be much like this. Worse, probably. I am liked by the elven court only marginally better than you would be.”
He said it in a matter-of-fact tone. As if it was merely expected that a prince of the elves would find himself nearly a pariah in his own court. Never mind that he had been acknowledged and made an official part of the family.
It seemed that stuffy, judgmental courtiers weren’t only to be found in human circles. For all the elves’ claims to perfection, their imperfections of heart and soul were there as much as in any human. They just attempted to hide it better.
Essie directed Farrendel through the crowd, making sure they paused to chat with the key Parliamentary members and their wives. As expected, some did their best to pretend Farrendel wasn’t standing right there. Some were genuinely trying to be nice, though their attempts failed when they either assumed Farrendel couldn’t understand Escarlish or that he would speak a broken version of it and addressed him in baby talk or spoke extra slowly and loudly. Others simply avoided speaking to Essie and Farrendel altogether.
The best were the few who had estates in the north yet not right on the border. They had more knowledge of the elves but also hadn’t suffered the privations and raids that the estates closest to the border had experienced.
As the time for dinner neared, Essie eased herself and Farrendel into a group of several Parliament members and their wives, including Lord Kranshaw and Lord Bletchly.
Lord Kranshaw turned away from Farrendel, his lip curling. But Lord Bletchly held out his hand. “It is a pleasure to meet you again, Prince Farrendel. I trust your stay in Escarland has been pleasant.”
Farrendel’s stiff shoulders were hardly noticeable beneath his tailcoat as he shook Lord Bletchly’s hand. Farrendel must be getting used to all the handshaking. This time, he even managed a hint of a forced smile. “It has been.”
“It must have been quite the shock, visiting our bustling, modern city after growing up in the barbaric wilds of Tarenhiel.” Lady Kranshaw’s smile was sickly sweet, like a poisonous flower whose lovely scent did nothing to disguise its deadliness.
Essie tightened her grip on Farrendel’s arm, keeping her smile in place by force of habit. “It was a shock returning here after enjoying the elven sophistication in Estyra.”
A tinkling bell rang, signaling the beginning of dinner. Essie swallowed back her sigh of relief. The past half hour of conversations had been one long, tortuous event. She wouldn’t blame Farrendel if he made a run for it partway through the evening.
In the formal dining room, they located their seats. Thankfully, the seating was arranged by precedence, so while they had a few of the Parliamentary lords and ladies seated near them, her family and Jalissa were also sitting close enough to talk.
Their presence relaxed Farrendel’s shoulders as well. He and Jalissa shared a look that seemed to commiserate over the agony of the evening so far.
Essie slipped into the seat to Farrendel’s right, putting herself between him and Lord Fiskre. While Lord Fiskre was one of the nicer lords, a grandfatherly figure with white hair and smile wrinkles etched into his skin, Farrendel would probably appreciate sitting next to Edmund instead.
“Princess Elspeth, congratulations on your marriage.” Lord Fiskre nodded to her as the salad course was placed in front of them by the serving staff. “It is nice to see elves and humans sitting at a table together once again. My grandfather used to tell stories about the time when he was a boy and elves and humans didn’t have the animosity they have now.”
“Thank you for your congratulations. Not everyone has been so supportive.” Essie felt the first genuine smile since arriving at this ball.
“I, for one, find it refreshing.” Lord Fiskre grinned. “Keeps both Escarland and Tarenhiel from getting too stuffy and stodgy, if you ask me.”
Essie felt her own grin tug at her mouth. Lord Fiskre must have been a real adventurer in his day. His eyes still had that fire in them.
Next to him, Lady Fiskre patted his hand. “We wish you every happiness, princess.”
