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“Ten years.” Farrendel raised his eyebrows at Averett. That was hardly a long time. A mere decade.
“Ah, right. I forgot. That isn’t that long to you elves. Given how long you and Essie are bound to live, my great-great-grandchildren will still be rubbing my rightness into the noses of Parliament.” Averett leaned back with a contented sigh. “Farrendel, you are officially the best brother-in-law I have.”
Essie rolled her eyes. “He’s youronlybrother-in-law.”
“He can still be my favorite.” Averett tilted his head back, closing his eyes. “Unless I adopt Weylind as a pseudo brother-in-law.”
The thought was so ludicrous Farrendel snorted, the sound rough in his throat and loud enough to be heard above the clattering of the train wheels against the rails.
Julien’s and Averett’s gazes shot to Farrendel, eyebrows lifting.
Farrendel shrugged, ducking his head. He was still getting used to laughing. No surprise that the others were still getting used to it. “Weylind would hate that.”
“While secretly being happy about it, though he would never admit it.” Averett smirked, his gaze focused on Farrendel as if he meant more than just Weylind.
Farrendel found himself grinning as well. Weylind would outwardly hate Averett treating him like a brother, but Essie had told him how her brothers and Weylind had bonded during the fight across Kostaria. It would be good for Weylind to have a friend.
“After that display, I’m thinking you should get Weylind over here and host a joint Tarenhieli-Escarlish diplomatic meeting with Mongalia. I’ve heard the elves have had trouble with Mongalia harassing ships headed for their ports along the mouth of the Hydalla. Not as bad as the problems you were having with us, but it still should be dealt with.” Julien shrugged as he gestured at Farrendel. “And Mongalia has been rattling their sabers thanks to our strengthened alliance with Tarenhiel.”
“Good idea. If Weylind and I present a united front—with a little flashy magic from Farrendel—it would convince them to back off because they don’t want to mess with the combined might of Tarenhiel and Escarland.” Averett gave a satisfied nod, as if that reality was a foregone conclusion. “You know, with Tarenhiel and Escarland working together—maybe with Kostaria’s help, if the alliance warms to that point—we can command just about anything we want in treaty negotiations. We are on the verge of a golden age for Tarenhiel and Escarland, mark my words.”
Julien leaned over and smacked Averett’s shoulder. “You are drunk on being right. It’s making you talk grandiose nonsense.”
“Thank you, Julien. I was going to smack him if you didn’t.” Essie leaned her head against Farrendel’s shoulder, hugging his arm. It was not comfortable since his wrist pressed against the hard surface of her wide belt, but he did not pull away. If anything, Essie gripped his arm tighter as she glanced at her brother, laughter in her voice. “Avie, please don’t turn my husband into your personal intimidation weapon.”
“Only when it is also in the best interest of Tarenhiel.” Averett shifted in his chair, as if getting more comfortable against the cushions. He turned back to Farrendel, the humor in his eyes fading. “Back when we were on the brink of war with Tarenhiel, I was glad you were the only elf warrior with your magic. Now I’m wishing there were more. Are you sure more elves don’t have magic like yours?”
Farrendel shook his head, dropping his gaze back to the arm Essie was hugging. “Not right now. It is a rare magic that runs in the royal family and some of the other noble families. It was how they became the nobility, long ago.”
“Makes sense.” Julien leaned his elbows on his knees. “I’ve heard stories about the great elf warriors of the past. I’m sure you know far more.”
Averett, Essie, and Julien all turned to Farrendel, staring at him as if waiting for him to share a story.
He opened his mouth, shut it, tried to find the words. Finally, he drew in a deep breath and forced himself to speak. “You have all seen the Gulmorth River Gorge that separates Tarenhiel and Kostaria.”
“Yes. We had to fight our way across it when attacking Kostaria.” Essie’s mouth flattened, as if she was seeing that battle again.
It was strange, hearing about a war in which he had no part. Normally, he would have been at the front ranks of an invasion into Kostaria. Instead, he had spent the entire war pinned to the floor.
As much as he hated bloodshed and fighting, missing the entire war was much worse.
He cleared his throat and forced himself to tell the story rather than dwell on the memories. “That gorge was created by the last great elf warrior with magic like mine. This was over a thousand years ago, when the great rift happened between us forest elves and the mountain elves, as the trolls were called back then. To protect Tarenhiel from the warlike and vengeful kin in the north, this warrior used his magic to split the earth along what was then little more than a stream and created the gorge, though such expenditure of magic killed him. It was five hundred years before the trolls were able to use their ice and stone magic anywhere near the gorge, and Tarenhiel enjoyed peace for hundreds of years thanks to his sacrifice.”
“Now I see why your magic is rare. Those who have it tended to get themselves killed off.” Averett met Farrendel’s gaze, something in his tone almost like a warning.
Essie’s grip tightened on his arm. “Please tell me there is at least one story of an elf warrior living a long, happy life.”
“If they lived a long, happy life, they usually do not make it into stories.” Farrendel had to work to keep his serious expression in place rather than let the smile break free.
“Huh. Who knew you elves were such morbid storytellers?” Essie huffed and nudged him again. “You’ll just have to be the one to change that, I guess. Because I want a really long, really happy life with you.”
Farrendel studied her, not sure how to go about joking about a shortened lifespan. “By elf standards, I will die at a rather young five hundred years or so thanks to the elishina.”
By the way Essie grimaced, he was not sure she found his statement as ironically humorous as he did.
She rolled her eyes. “Fine, fine. Point taken. We are probably going to be an elf legend. Love. A bit of tragedy. An early death, by elven standards. Our life has all the makings of a story you elves apparently enjoy. All I ask is that we get a chance to grow old together instead of you getting yourself killed in some battle.”
Across the way, Julien and Averett were starting to shift like they were uncomfortable with this conversation.
