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KNEELING ON THE FLOORin front of a trunk, Farrendel swayed with the rhythm of the Escarlish train as it steamed across the countryside, headed toward Fort Charibert and the bomb range. The snow-covered fields flashed by outside the windows of the sleeping compartment. Early morning sunlight glinted on the fresh layer of snow, sending it sparkling like a thousand diamonds had been scattered across the fields.
The trunk was crammed into the little floorspace there was in the compartment beside the head of the bunk bed set into the train car’s wall. Essie sat on the end of the bed, and she leaned over as he opened the lid. “I’ve never seen you wear fighting leathers. Every fight I’ve seen you in has always been an ambush or a rescue when you haven’t had time to properly dress and prepare. I’m sure it looks impressive.”
“This will not be a real fight either.” Farrendel reached for the folded tunic that lay on top. It was made of leather lined with layers of padding to absorb minor blows. A layer of metal plating covered the chest and shoulders in such a way that it remained flexible as he moved.
It was easier to focus on his fighting leathers rather than the demonstration he had agreed to do for Escarland’s military generals, Parliament, and Essie’s brothers. Averett and Julien did not bother him, but the thought of having a whole bunch of generals and members of the human Parliament staring at him while he used his magic was enough to make him want to jump off this moving train.
“No, I guess this isn’t a real fight. But there will be a lot of magic and explosions and I’m looking forward to it.” Essie grinned and reached out to rest a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t be afraid to show off. That’s why you’re dressing up, after all. You’re going to strut out there in front of all those members of Parliament and those generals and blast off so much magic you’ll leave even the toughest of them quaking in their boots.”
Leaving them quaking in their boots sounded like something he could do. But what if he lost control of his magic, like he had in Kostaria? Averett, Julien, those generals, all those people...they expected him to unleash his magic as he had never dared before, except when pain and torture had made him nearly out of his senses.
“Farrendel.” Essie gave a sigh, then her hand rested against his cheek and tilted his face to look at her. “You will be fine. With our practice and the heart bond, you have figured out techniques you haven’t tried before. But, more than showing off, more than impressing everyone, I want you to enjoy using your magic. I want you to wield it like you love it.”
Love his magic? The very thought seemed so foreign and yet...
There were all those times he had watched Essie use his magic, and he could not hate it then. It was beautiful in her hands.
But in his hands? In his hands, his magic was deadly. Destructive. Dangerous. With his magic, he had killed armies. He had blood on his hands and on his magic.
That was not something he was sure he could ever love.
But he gave Essie a small nod before he pulled away from her touch and returned to unpacking the leathers. Halfway down the trunk, there was a layer of canvas covering more items on the bottom, but he left that in place for now.
He dressed in the tunic, clasped a wide leather belt around his waist, and buckled his swords across his back. He pulled on soft leather, fingerless gloves, then tightened leather bracers on his wrists and arms.
With his leather armor in place, he felt steadier. More prepared for this demonstration.
When he turned back to Essie, her grin had softened into a smile that twinkled in her eyes. She stood and swayed with the rhythm of the train as she strode across the tiny space. She rested her hands on his chest, running her fingers over the leather and metal. Standing on her tiptoes, she leaned in and kissed him.
He held her, kissing her back. Her hands trailed through his hair, which was now long enough to just brush the collar of his tunic.
“You look rather good in your armor.” Essie murmured, her lips brushing his cheek. “My dashing, deadly elf warrior.”
Deadly elf warrior. That was the look he was going for. The last time these generals saw him, he was half-naked and losing control of his magic. Impressive, but not his best.
The Parliament members had not seen his magic at all besides the little burst he had let loose in the Parliament chambers.
All of them, generals and Parliament members, needed to be impressed to further solidify the new defense alliance. When he used his magic, he needed them to imagine what it would be like to fight with him on their side and picture the continued benefits of a long-term peace and alliance with Tarenhiel.
And, why they should never, ever think about trying to manipulate that treaty to be anything other than fair to both Escarland and Tarenhiel. Tarenhiel was not weak and not groveling at Escarland’s feet, much as it had appeared that way.
“You are going to scare all of them witless.” Essie smirked and stood on her tiptoes to plant one last kiss on his cheek. “We’re probably getting close.”
His chest tightened again, and not just at the thought of this demonstration. He could not put off revealing what was on the bottom of the trunk any longer. A gift for Essie, but not the normal type of gift he would get for her.
He let her go and knelt on the floor in front of the trunk again. He opened the lid, then glanced up at Essie. “I have something for you. But I am not sure you will like it.”
“Now you have me curious.” Essie joined him on the floor, squished shoulder to shoulder with him to fit in front of the trunk in the small space. She pulled back the canvas, revealing another padded leather tunic, smaller than his and without the extra metal armoring. Her gaze shot to his. “You had fighting leathers made for me? When? How?”
He stared down at the leathers rather than hold Essie’s gaze. “I sent a message shortly after we started training. The dressmaker in Estyra has your measurements and worked with the armorer to tailor it for you. I know you do not wish to become a warrior or ever have to use my magic in battle, but I thought if you were in that situation again because of me, I would want you protected, as much as you can be, in a battle.”
Essie’s hand moved to rest on his, squeezing his fingers until he finally looked at her. She smiled and leaned into him. “Thank you. I love it, and more than that, I love the care behind it.”
“I know. But I do not want you to feel like I am trying to change you or turn you into a warrior when that is not what you want to be.” Farrendel struggled to hold her gaze. She had loved him as he was, even as she managed to push him to be better without ever forcing him. He wanted to give her the same in return, but it was not as easy to find that line as Essie made it seem.
Instead of looking away as he had expected, Essie laughed and took his hands in both of hers. “I have realized that your greatest weakness in battle is not stone. It isn’t me. It’s the fact that you are so ridiculously overpowered. You’ve always walked into battle alone, trying to use as little magic as possible for the task at hand to avoid destroying everything in sight, including your allies. Your greatest weakness is fear of your magic. Your fear and others’ fear.”
