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Yes, Weylind was right. It was best not to grow too attached. Not for his sake, but for hers.
With a slight shake of her head, she quickly finished the rune and rushed through the final blessing.
As she said the last word, magic, like the shock of one of his lightning bolts of power, surged from the spot where her finger rested to deep inside Farrendel’s chest. The intensity of it was enough to make him flinch.
What was that? Was that his magic, accidentally too strong in the eshinelt? Yet, if that were the case, then why had he not felt it when saying the blessings for her?
This surge of magic was tied to the final blessing, and she had flinched as well when he had said that same blessing for her. Was this normal? Perhaps this was the expected magical binding of hearts that was supposed to take place due to those blessings. The eshinelt was prepared to encourage such a binding.
He could not count on his grandmother to have warned him about something like this, but surely Weylind might have mentioned it if such a powerful surge of magic binding them together was to be expected.
Unless it was not expected between a human and an elf. Maybe Weylind had failed to mention it since he believed it would not occur for this wedding.
Farrendel was not sure whom he would ask for answers. His grandmother, maybe. If she could be persuaded to answer his questions in a straightforward manner instead of with more questions of her own. Perhaps Weylind, though Farrendel was not sure he wanted his brother to know that some kind of magical bonding had taken place.
Even though Princess Elspeth was a human, the elven blessings had worked as they were intended. For all that Weylind did not like it, Farrendel and Princess Elspeth were well and truly, twice-over married and magically bound.
And that meant Machasheni Leyleira, not Weylind, had been right all along.
He glanced toward his grandmother where she sat tall and regal in the front row. When he met her gaze, her mouth curled in a smile, her eyes twinkling, and she tipped her head in a slight nod.
Machasheni approved. Somehow, even though she had yet to speak to Princess Elspeth directly, the little that Machasheni had observed had been enough to earn her approval, a thing not easily granted.
It kindled that warmth that almost felt like hope in Farrendel’s chest. Maybe this marriage could work and—dare he even think it?—be a happy one.
* * *
From his seatbehind the table set up on the dais, Farrendel eyed the whirling dancers filling the hall below. Perhaps he should ask his wife to dance. It would certainly be expected of the newly married couple, and, beside him, Princess Elspeth was leaning forward, her eyes focused on the dancing as if she would be interested in trying it.
But Farrendel normally avoided the dancing at court events…or any event in general. He had even avoided dancing at Fingol’s wedding last year, and that had been a small gathering, especially compared to this.
The thought of so many eyes watching him as he whirled through the steps, unable to safely keep his back to a wall as he was surrounded by a crush of other people…it sent shudders down his back.
Perhaps it was time to make a swift exit and end this torture of an evening. He would much rather be alone with Princess Elspeth—as awkward as it was—than stay here.
When he stood and held out his arm to her, she jumped to her feet as if she had been just as eager to leave as he was. She reached for his elbow, halted, then rested her hand on his forearm in the elven style.
He kept his head down as they skirted the edge of the hall and exited, having no wish to meet anyone’s eye and see their knowing smirk. Or, worse, be drawn into a conversation. He had already used up all his words for one evening.
Outside, the cool evening air brushed away the stifling press of people, clearing his head for the first time in hours. As he drew in a deep breath, Princess Elspeth’s shoulders were rising and falling beside him, as if she too were gulping in the fresh air after being stuck with too many people.
When she seemed ready, Farrendel led her up staircases and across branches toward his rooms far from the bustle at the center of Ellonahshinel. Darkness blanketed the treetops, the branches lit only by a few magical globes of light strategically placed along the pathways.
The farther they walked, the more Princess Elspeth leaned against him, her fingers tightening on his arm until her grip was almost painful. What was wrong?
At the last branch leading to his rooms, Princess Elspeth halted, her face draining of color until it nearly matched the white dress she wore. She backed away, her grip leaving his arm as she wrapped both arms around her stomach.
He turned to her, studying her face. She was petrified of something. Was she afraid of what would happen once they were alone in his rooms? He swallowed, not sure of a proper way of going about reassuring her.
This was an arranged marriage. He was not sure what she was expecting, but he had every intention of bolting for his room. Alone. By himself. Trust, after all, took time.
Her shoulders rose and fell in quick, shuddering breaths, and her voice came out an octave higher than normal. “I take it there aren’t any clumsy elves? Not that I’m terribly clumsy for a human, but humans do tend to have accidents happen to us, and that branch is awfully small to walk across. My balance isn’t quite like yours.”
His muscles relaxed. Ah. That was her fear.
Having grown up walking the treetops, it had not occurred to him what navigating Ellonahshinel would be like for someone who had spent her life on the ground. From what he had seen of the human outpost, humans did not appear to like heights.
He could handle this concern. Perhaps not easily, but better than having to find the words to address…other things.
