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Exactly Weylind’s fear for Farrendel going into this arranged marriage. Perhaps human tales like this one had planted the idea in his brother’s head?
Farrendel squirmed to get into a more comfortable position on his pile of cushions. Essie’s smile and laughter was all well and good, but he would have to press this fake argument a little further if he wanted to annoy her. “And another thing. How did that pumpkin turn into a carriage? Magic does not work that way. It cannot transform one thing into another.”
Essie huffed and rolled her eyes. “It’s a story. Magic doesn’t have to work the same way in stories as it does in real life.”
There was the cute, annoyed look he had been going for. He fought to keep his smile from breaking through his blank expression. “It still is not very logical.”
“In your last story, the elven maid’s grief was so great that her tears watered the blood of her murdered lover, and the drops of his blood sprang into beautiful red flowers. That is not very logical either. Not to mention rather macabre. Don’t you elves have any happy stories?”
They had the tale of Daesyn and Inara, but he was not ready to tell her that one just yet.
“We elves appreciate the beauty in grief.” Farrendel kept his tone light. This conversation had banished the darkness, and he did not want it to take a turn in that direction.
“More like elves love the melodramatic.” Essie reached out and patted his shoulder. He was not even sure she was aware she had done it.
It was a sign of how comfortable she was becoming with him, that she would touch him without a thought.
And how comfortable he was becoming with her, that he would not flinch away when she did.
Essie kept right on talking, her hand leaving his shoulder to gesture at his hair. “Face it. You elves are all about style and flair. Who else would go into battle with long hair majestically flying on the breeze?”
“Our long hair serves a purpose.” Now he was the one to take on that disgruntled tone. His hair helped him sense what was around him, especially while he was flipping in the air.
But he had the feeling it was a conversation that was going to be hard to explain to Essie. He did not think human hair had quite the same properties as elven hair.
“Uh-huh.” Essie grinned and shrugged. “Even so, admit it. You elves aren’t blind to the aesthetic.”
He could not help but smile at that. She had a point there.
Perhaps, someday, he would explain the meaning given to an elf warrior’s long hair and the dishonor of cutting it. And, sure, the aesthetic probably played a role in how long hair was considered honorable. Elves loved their ideal of perfect beauty, after all.
But that was a more serious topic than he wanted to broach right now.
Farrendel pushed into a sitting position. “You should return to bed and get some sleep.”
Essie’s eyes searched his face, though he was not sure how much she could see in the shadows. “Will you be able to sleep now?”
“I think so.” At least, he hoped so. As long as his nightmares remained mild enough that he did not scream, he would not wake her. She would get some sleep, even if his sleep was restless.
“All right.” Essie stood and headed for her door. As she opened it, she glanced over her shoulder. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.” He waited for her to leave before he pushed to his feet. Now to attempt a few hours of sleep. Tomorrow was going to be hard enough without trying to get through on little sleep.
* * *
Farrendel drewin a deep breath through the tightness in his throat at being surrounded by so many people. Normally, he would not attend such a large gathering only a day after returning from yet another tour at the border.
But this was the event Essie had been planning for months. He had to be here, for her sake.
Besides, this was not the elven court with their sneering nobles peering down their noses at their illegitimate, scarred prince. These were his fellow warriors, bearing their own scars and burdens. Instead of sneering at him, they looked at him as their Laesornysh, their hero. And that adoration was nearly as uncomfortable as the sneers, though in a different way.
Though, his shoulder blades itched with the feeling of eyes on him. Farrendel swept a glance over the gathering—the clusters of elves talking, the groups around the refreshment tables, the tables for business owners and elves looking for jobs to gather—but he could not see anyone out of place.
Many of the elves here had a visible scar, missing limb, or other permanent injury. Several elves leaned on canes. Others had wooden hands that they moved using their growing magic. Still others had scars that were far less visible but no less real.
It was good to see them all gathered together, smiling, laughing, and talking. Farrendel hoped this night worked as Essie had intended and brought together those searching for jobs with those who were hiring.
Essie stood a few feet away, attempting to make use of her newfound elvish skills. The elf she was talking to had scrunched eyebrows and an uncomprehending expression.
