Page 36 of Callista and the Elf

She stepped closerand took my hand. “I’m Molanna, but you can call me Anna. I’ve been hoping to meet you for weeks.”

“Really?” I asked. “Because every other elf I’ve met seems to hate me.”

Koan popped his hands on his hips. “Hey, now.”

I rolled my eyes. “Especially these two. I think they hate me the most.”

Molanna laughed, but then she slid closer to me and lowered her voice. “That’s because you’ve been here in the fortress. Most of the elves here are rich, elitist nobles. They’ll hate humans, fae, and elves from other kingdoms with equal animosity. If you leave the fortress, though, even just to the villages that are still inside the curse’s boundary, you’ll find much friendlier elves.”

Jolter folded his arms. “Technically, my family’s lands are quite far from the fortress.”

Molanna raised a teasing smile at him. “And yet, where did you spend your free time?”

Koan elbowed his brother. “I’m starting to wonder if your date is more interested in my friend than you.”

Jolter elbowed him back. “She’s my friend, too.”

Molanna rolled her eyes at me. “Maybe we should sit between these two so they stay separated.” I snorted a very undignified, but soft, laugh as we shifted to the chairs.

About twenty minutes later, the event began with a double quartet performing an extravagant piece I’d never heard before. As their first notes blended, it reminded me of a waterfall, but as the pace sped up, it felt like the waterfall rose out of its normal course and started dancing. I leaned forward and tried to keep track of the notes, but they careened and flew so masterfully, that eventually I just leanedback and closed my eyes.

I didn’t even know all the instruments. The two lutes were familiar, but the others were as magical as a maid who curled my hair with heat that rose from her hands.

After a deafening applause at the end of the song, one of the lute players introduced a song he’d written for his wife. The stage darkened, except for a spotlight on him…

And my emotions fell apart. Memories of my father singing for my mother made me light-headed.

Tears blurred my vision. I needed to get out. Find a safe place to sniff and clear my eyes without drawing the attention of every person in this theater.

“I’ll be back,” I whispered. I slid past Koan, along the balcony path, and slipped into the hallway outside the theater.

I dragged a ragged, raspy breath past my silent sobs, knowing if I made too much noise, people in the theater could still hear. But the extra wall gave me a little more freedom from curious, hateful eyes.

“Callista?” a familiar voice whispered.

No. No, no, no. That voice was supposed to be in his room in a tower a long walk away.

“What are you doing here?” I asked the king in a shaky whisper.

He moved closer, until I easily saw his dark silhouette in the shadowy hall. “I… wanted to hear the concert.” Did his voice tremble too?

Exasperation and anger meshed together in an uncomfortable blend in my chest, drying my tears and pushing me to confrontation. “Then why did you give your spot away?”

Silence.

Five seconds. Then ten. And then fifteen.

“Because,” he started, but then paused again. He made a dramatic, slow sigh, and then tipped his forehead against the wall in front of him. “Because I wanted to do something that might bring you some happiness, and this was the best I could think of. You deserve it more than I do.”

His sincere, forlorn tone deflated the fight that I had ready to throw at him.

After a few more seconds, he lifted his head away from the wall abruptly. “Why are you out here? Did Koan or Jolter—”

I shook my head. “They’ve both been wonderful.”

“Then—”

Now I sighed. I didn’t want to tell him the things that hurt so much I thought I’d never breathe again, but… he was the only person here—the only person in the entire world—who knew the real reason I’d stayed in my room for a week. Telling someone might feel good—even if I hated him.

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