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ESSIE WASN’T SURE whatto wear to the wedding of a former enemy troll prince and her elf sister-in-law turned traitor.
As the icy breeze whipped through the canvas doorway of the tent, threatening to steal away the heat thrown by the wood-burning stove, Essie knelt and dug into the bottom of her pack and pulled out the one dress she’d brought along. She had debated long and hard about it, but a princess should never be without a fancy dress. Just in case she had to attend a state function.
Essie held up the midnight-blue dress, the silk wrinkled beyond all hope, and faced Farrendel where he sat on the cot. “What do you think? Should I wear the dress or my battle-stained tunic and trousers?”
Farrendel gripped the edge of the cot, as if he needed the help to stay upright. The light green tunic he wore bagged around his torso and around the straps of his swords strapped across his back. He’d had to cinch the straps as tight as they would go.
Still, Essie wasn’t about to suggest he skip wearing his swords to this wedding.
The firelight cast dark smudges beneath his eyes and shadows in the hollows of his face. He gave a small shrug. “I do not believe it will matter.”
Essie gritted her teeth and tried to keep her smile in place. Yesterday, Farrendel had seemed to be more himself, but that morning, he had gone back to staring listlessly.
