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“I am fine, Weylind.” Or he would be, once the healers could finish their work.
Farrendel glanced at Essie again, then held up their clasped hands. “Do not grieve, shashon. This is what I want.”
Weylind sighed as he braced his hands against the table. “Machasheni Leyleira was right, it seems. You and Essie are like Daesyn and Inara, with both their joys and their sorrows.”
“Perhaps.” But Farrendel was not grieving the loss of a few hundred years of his life. For Essie, it was beyond worth it. “I know this is not what you wanted for me. But, please, all I ask is that you try to accept Essie. She is not an Escarlish spy or assassin or anything you thought she might be. She is not going to make my life miserable. After all, an elishina can only form from both sides.”
For a long moment, Weylind did not move. Then, he nodded and lifted his gaze to meet Farrendel’s. “Very well, shashon. I will do better where Elspetha is concerned. She has proven that she has a heart as fierce as any elven warrior.”
A fierce heart. Shynafir. It suited Essie. She loved fiercely, so fiercely that she had seen his scars, his nightmares, his darkness, and still loved him.
Weylind opened his mouth as if he planned to say something more, then he shook his head again. He pushed away from the table. “I will fetch Rheva. Let her use her magic to help you rest. It will be a long train ride to Estyra, and we will have much to attend to when we return.”
Farrendel nodded, already letting himself drift as Weylind strode out and Rheva stepped back in. Yes, they would have a lot to deal with when they returned. But until then, he would rest. Essie was alive. He was alive. Right now, that was more than he could have dared hoped for.
ChapterTwenty
Farrendel relaxed in the peaceful warmth between sleep and wakefulness. The bed below him was soft and was no longer moving as the train glided its way through the Tarenhieli forest.
But he was not alone. As he woke, he became aware of Essie lying in the bed next to him. He was not entirely sure how he could be so certain it was her. Perhaps it was the whiff of the floral scent of the conditioner she had picked out at Illyna’s. Maybe it was the tickle of her hair against his cheek.
Or maybe it was the elishina settled deep in his chest that made him so attuned to her.
Beside him, Essie drew in a deep breath and shifted. Waking up. She did not seem to be in any pain, so Rheva must have been right that Essie would wake just fine.
Essie shifted again, his only warning, before her fingers trailed through a strand of his hair.
It took all of his self-control to remain still, even though his muscles nearly stiffened and his breath wanted to catch in his throat. In his first panic, he was torn between the instinct to pull away and the strengthening urge to relax at her touch.
For the past few years, he had never thought he would ever want to allow anyone close enough to enjoy the intimacies of marriage. It seemed too dangerous to sleep with someone in the same room, much less share a bed. And everything else just seemed…awkward. Kissing sounded more than a little disgusting if one thought about it too much.
But this was Essie. And, somehow, that made everything different than what he had expected. No, he was not yet ready for everything that came with marriage. But he was ready to start working that way. Including getting up the nerve to finally kiss her.
Essie’s fingers moved from his hair to tracing along his pointed ear. Her touch was so light and ticklish that he could not stay still, pretending to be asleep, any longer. “Why are you touching my ear?”
His skin felt cold as she snatched her hand back. “I…um…your ear is pointed. I’ve been curious ever since I married you and…sorry.”
When he turned toward her and peeled his eyes open, he caught the adorably pink flush that stole across her face. He did not get to see her flustered often—he was usually the bewildered one—so he would enjoy this moment while it lasted.
He might even try to get her a bit more flustered while he was at it. Right now, he was filled with a reckless, unfettered kind of bravery that urged him to say whatever uncensored thing came out of his mouth first. With Essie, he had the freedom to do that without worrying that he would embarrass himself too badly. “Do all humans find pointed ears attractive?”
Her mouth curled into that bright smile he loved so much, though this one had an edge of flirtation to it that made his head spin a bit. “I don’t know. Maybe. I do, apparently.”
He took in her smiling face for another moment before he sighed and looked away. As much as he wanted to rest here with Essie, they had business to attend to. Weylind would be arranging a council meeting to discuss the ambushes and the weapons used during that second battle on the trail.
Weapons that he could now see were very human—probably Escarlish—weapons.
That would explain the mysterious raids. The trolls had been sneaking across the border, not to raid villages but to claim the weapons from a smuggler.
A smuggler who had to be an elf.
That meant both an elven traitor and a human traitor were involved, assuming that Essie’s brother Averett wasn’t purposely sending weapons to the trolls through the elven traitor.
No, surely not. King Averett loved his sister. He would not put her in peril by giving weapons to the trolls.
But Weylind would not see it that way. He would only see Escarlish weapons in the hands of Tarenhiel’s enemies.
Farrendel pushed onto his elbows. Pain stabbed into his stomach, far sharper than he had expected, and he collapsed back onto his pillow with a gasp.
