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There the tapping came again, this time more insistent even though it remained light.
The door. Someone was knocking on the door.
A part of Essie wanted to just ignore whoever it was. She was drained. Scraped raw inside.
When the knocking came yet again, Essie sighed and pushed to her feet. It must be important if the elf at the door was this persistant. Most elf servants left after a knock or two if the door wasn’t answered.
Her hair was a frizzy, tangled mess after her rough night. Her shirt and tunic were rumpled, and she probably had dark circles under her eyes.
She nearly tripped over the two mugs of cold hot chocolate still sitting on the floor. After picking them up, she deposited them on the table as she headed for the door.
Pasting on the most cheerful smile she could manage, she lifted the latch, pulled the door open, and froze.
Queen Rheva of the elves stood on the front porch of the main room, her long nut-brown hair loose around her shoulders and contrasting against her light green dress. Her honeyed brown eyes were soft as she swept her gaze over Essie.
Essie tried not to shift. She’d had little chance to get to know this elf sister-in-law of hers. Weylind’s wife had always stuck close to Melantha and seemed busy with her queenly duties. Not to mention that her seat at the dining room table was at the far end from where Essie and Farrendel usually sat, making it difficult to strike up a conversation without shouting across the table, something Essie would have done without thinking at her own family meals, but not with this serene elven family.
After a moment, Essie forced her fading smile back onto her face. All she really wanted to do was shove Rheva back outside and slam the door. “What brings you here?”
Rheva shifted, her hands clasped demurely in front of her. “I am sorry I did not meet you at the train station yesterday. I was not sure how I would be received, and I...” Rheva trailed off and stared at the floor of the porch.
Essie had always assumed Rheva was just as aloof as Melantha. Or perhaps as disapprovingly condescending as Weylind.
But, perhaps, she was simply shy. And Essie’s loud laughter and bright smiles were most likely intimidating to someone whose culture encouraged serene, quiet behavior.
There was more to Rheva than met the eye, and, like she had with Jalissa, Essie felt bad that she hadn’t taken the time to see that until now. It wasn’t only Rheva’s fault. Essie had never attempted to approach her either.
“Uh, would you like to come in?” Essie stepped aside, gesturing from Rheva to the room.
Rheva glided inside but didn’t take a seat either at the table or on the cushions. Her hands remained clasped in front of her, and only a close inspection showed how white her knuckles were. “I came to check on you. You do not look well.”
“It...was a rough night.” Essie’s smile turned brittle again. She was not sure how much to tell Rheva. She braced herself, drawing in shallow breaths at the pain of tears building inside her chest again.
Rheva stepped closer and, when she lifted a hand, her fingers glowed a faint green. She touched the back of Essie’s hand, and a soothing coolness spread through her.
“I am sorry. I should have been here last night. Come and sit.” Gently, Rheva steered Essie to the pile of cushions and nudged her to sit.
Essie reclaimed her blanket from the night before, the lump too thick in her throat for words. She had not expected this almost motherly tenderness from Rheva.
Rheva gracefully eased onto one of the cushions next to Essie. “Do you want to tell me about it?”
Essie wasn’t sure why, but Rheva’s gentle tone and sympathetic words drew tears. Last night, she’d felt like such a failure as a wife because she hadn’t been able to reach Farrendel. If she had only loved him more or made sure he knew he could confide in her or something, then surely she could have helped him out of this.
But there was truly nothing she could do. No amount of love or caring on her part could fix Farrendel. Not this kind of damage.
“I just wish...I just want it to be better...” Essie’s words hitched. She didn’t want to cry. Not in front of this sister-in-law during the first real conversation the two of them had ever had.
But Rheva shifted and put her arm around Essie’s shoulders.
It was that gesture that broke down Essie’s last barrier. Elves didn’t normally reach out to offer hugs or comforting physical contact.
The relief of crying on someone’s shoulder was almost palpable, even as it brought another stab of pain. She should have been able to cry on Farrendel’s shoulder. He was her husband. That was how things were supposed to work.
But right now, Farrendel was broken, and their marriage felt shattered along with him.
When Essie had first married Farrendel, she had expected nothing. She had expected to be locked out and ignored.
Now things were different. They had been so close to being utterly, blissfully happy. Was it too much to ask that she got a nauseatingly happy honeymoon phase before things settled into the hard reality of life and marriage?
