Page 117 of The Forbidden Fae King

My chest swells and my heart feels like it will explode with what her face reveals to me. Women flutter past in gowns of brightly colored silk, trying to catch my eye. Fae men are the latest novelty for a lady’s lover, but I hardly see them.

I only register her.

The scent of lavender rising from her glossy hair. The feel of her small breasts pressed up against my chest and the softness of her hip as my hand drifts down her curve ever so slightly.

The next instant flickers, and I am surrounded by my two closest friends. Worry creases their faces.

“You can’t get attached to a human woman, Elrond!” Frode’s voice pitches high. “Take a lover, take ten for all I care, but do not fall in love with one of them. Do you know what kind of life you will have?”

“I am well aware of the sacrifices I will make for Fionola.” I half growl.

“At least bring her back to our realm. You will live out your full life and hers will have an extension,” Fenix practically begs me.

I glance between the two men, their eyes glassy. We have been inseparable since we were children, surviving the orphanage together as boys and traveling the ends of both realms as men, going where our business led us.

“There is nothing left for me in our realm. You know that.” My words have both of them flinching as though I lashed out with a physical blow. “Don’t look at me like that. You won’t be wherever I choose to settle down either.”

We stare at each other, knowing this is the end of the road, and it is a damned shame.

Flicker.

I hold the precious weight of my infant son in my arms, rocking him in soothing motions as his eyes roll back into his head and he surrenders to sleep. I savor the peaceful expression on his tiny face, then smile in wonderment at my wife, who created this perfect bundle. She sits at her desk, glancing over the estate’s accounts, but they flick over to us every so often and soften.

I teach both my adolescent sons to fight with a sword, and we move across the paved courtyard as they attack and I defend, taking on both at once. The clacking of our wooden swords echo within the closed space, along with our grunts.

My oldest drops his sword and I tackle him, taking Everett to the floor in a way that ensures he doesn’t bang his elbows or his head as I gently deposit him. Colman seizes the opportunity to leap onto my back, his bony arms and legs wrapping around me as I mock roar. The three of us end up in a laughing, tangled mess on the ground.

To the far side, hovering under the portico, my boy’s trainer crosses his arms and shakes his head at us without comment. There is a reason we hire a professional to teach them to fight.

My wife glances up from her position on the balcony, where she is deep inconversation with an ambassador from the royal court. For a fleeting moment her frown fades and a smile replaces it. Despite the scattering of white hair amongst the glossy black strands, she still looks exactly like that girl I married.

Flicker.

I spin Fionola around that same ballroom we fell in love in, and hold her just as closely. Her brilliant smile increases the lines around her eyes and her hair completely white, but she is still the most beautiful woman I have ever met, right down to her soul.

How could anyone ever compare to the mother of my sons? The woman who gave me love and this enriched life I had never expected? When the song ends, I take her hand in mine and kiss it. I hardly notice the difference between them. The fact that mine is still smooth and youthful.

Flicker.

Tears run down my face without end, as grief rolls through me. I place my hand on the cold surface of the gravestone set within my favorite garden, brushing away any dirt that has collected. I buried her here, in my favorite garden beneath a fire-red willow tree from my homeland. Months have passed, but it feels like I lost her yesterday.

We had fifty years together. It wasn’t enough. Nothing would ever be enough.

Everett finds me, places a hand around my shoulders and leads me away. When I look at him, I see the thinning of his hair and the crow’s feet at his eyes, and I feel like I will break all over again.

Flicker.

My boyhood friends arrive on one of their regular visits and I laugh and hug both of them. Frode and Fenix appear as young and beautiful as the day I left their side, but I have white streaked through the braids of my hair that hang over my shoulder. Still neither have taken a wife and had children, and I think they never will. They look happy and their business has reached heights of success we never anticipated.

“It is never too late to rejoin us, Elrond. To become a business partner again.” There is such hope on Fenix’s face.

I smile. How could I leave my sons? My grandchildren? Our estate is my home, my life’s work and my legacy.

After my friends leave and I am filled with the simple joy of bouncing my eighth grandchild on my knee, I know I could never regret this path. The happiness it has brought me greatly outweighs the sorrow. My adult sons still need me, and constantly seek out my advice on how to navigate this life.

Flicker.

Everett and Colman look as old and as frail as I do. My greatest fear is that I won't go into the dark before my sons. All I can count on is the fact that I was no young man when I married Fionola, and that their strong fae blood has greatly extended their lives.

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