Page 29 of The Dark Elf's Found Family
Still afraid, yes. But maybe... maybe fear doesn't have to be the only thing driving my choices.
16
CIARAN
The path to the lake winds through frost-touched pines, their needles catching the afternoon light like scattered silver. I adjust the weight of the picnic basket on my shoulder, stealing glances at Brynn as we walk. She's been quieter than usual since agreeing to this outing, her hazel-green eyes distant in a way that makes my chest tighten with uncertainty.
It took the combined pleading power of both girls to get her to close the shop for the afternoon. Nya had looked up at her with those wide violet eyes and asked, so softly I almost missed it, if they could "make wishes together like a real family." Rhea had immediately seized on the idea, bouncing on her toes as she explained how they'd never been to the lake during Ikuyenda, how it would be perfect with the four of us.
Brynn had looked trapped between their hopeful faces and whatever walls she's been rebuilding since our kiss three nights ago. But something in Nya's quiet request seemed to break through her defenses, and she'd sighed and reached for the "Closed" sign before I could even add my own arguments.
Now she walks beside me in careful silence, her breath visible in small puffs that dissipate quickly in the cold air. She's bundledin her winter cloak, the brown wool bringing out the warm tones in her skin, but there's a tension in her shoulders that speaks to more than just the winter chill.
"Look!" Rhea's voice cuts through my brooding as we crest the last hill. "You can see it!"
The Lake of Wishes spreads before us like polished glass, its surface reflecting the pale winter sky in perfect mirror clarity. Ancient pines lean close to the water's edge, their dark branches creating intimate alcoves along the shoreline. In the distance, I can make out the graceful silhouettes of thaliverns—the elegant water birds that nest here year-round—skimming across the shallows with barely a ripple to mark their passage.
"It's beautiful," Nya breathes, her small hand finding mine as we descend toward the water. Her fingers are warm despite the cold, a sure sign that her magic is responding to her excitement. It's been doing that more often lately—little flares of protective energy that keep her comfortable when she should be shivering, that ease her breathing when exertion would normally leave her gasping.
I squeeze her hand gently, relief flooding through me at the steady warmth of her skin. The improvement in her health since we arrived in Eryndral has been remarkable, but I still catch myself watching for signs of strain, for the telltale pallor that means her magic is working too hard to compensate for her damaged lungs.
The shoreline is dotted with other families enjoying the traditional lake visit, their voices carrying across the water in a pleasant murmur of conversation and laughter. Children chase each other through the shallows while parents spread blankets on the rocky beach, the whole scene suffused with the warm community spirit that defines Ikuyenda.
I find a quiet spot away from the main gathering, a small cove where the pines create natural shelter from the wind. Theblanket spreads easily over the smooth stones, and I set the basket down with a satisfied grunt.
"Can we go in the water?" Rhea asks, already tugging at her boots with the impatience of youth.
"It'll be freezing," Brynn warns, but there's fondness in her voice rather than real objection.
"Please?" Nya adds her quiet plea to Rhea's more vocal enthusiasm. "Just for a minute?"
I catch Brynn's eye over their heads, and something passes between us—a moment of shared understanding about the impossibility of denying two determined children their simple joy. She sighs dramatically, but she's fighting a smile.
"Fine. But you warm up by the fire as soon as you're done, understood?"
They're already yanking off shoes and stockings, their excited chatter echoing across the water as they race toward the shallows. Their shrieks of delight at the cold water's bite make me chuckle despite the nerves coiling in my stomach.
Because now it's just Brynn and me on this blanket, with enough privacy for the conversation I've been planning since she pulled away from our kiss. The conversation I need to have if there's any chance of salvaging whatever this thing is between us.
She settles beside me on the blanket, careful to maintain space between us, her attention focused on the girls. Rhea has convinced Nya to splash in the deeper water, both of them shrieking with laughter as the cold hits their ankles. But I can see the magic shimmering around Nya like a heat haze, keeping her warm and comfortable despite the freezing temperature.
"Her magic's getting stronger," Brynn observes quietly, and I realize she's noticed it too—the way Nya moves through the water without the bone-deep chill that should have her teeth chattering by now.
"It responds to her emotions," I explain, pulling the small leather pouch of coins from my pocket and setting it between us. "Happiness, excitement—they make it flare. Fear and stress do too, but differently. More defensive."
"Is that why she got so sick in Kyrdonis?"
The question catches me off guard with its perceptiveness. I study Brynn's profile as she watches our daughters play, noting the way she includes Nya so naturally in her concern. Like she's already thinking of her as family.
"Partly," I admit. "The city was overwhelming for her. I just don't think it was the place for her." After a moment, I add, "Or me."
She hums softly, and I know she's not going to say anything more. And I've been trying to be patient. Understanding. To go at her pace. But I need Brynn to see I'm not so easy to scare off.
Which means I think we finally need to talk.
"Brynn." Her name comes out rougher than I intended, and she finally looks at me directly. Those hazel-green eyes are wary but not closed off, and I cling to that distinction like a lifeline. "I know you don't trust dark elves. Given Rhea..."
I trail off, letting her fill in whatever details she's comfortable sharing. I've pieced together enough to know that some bastard abandoned them both, left Brynn to raise a half-blood daughter alone in a world that doesn't always welcome such children kindly. But I won't push for specifics she's not ready to give.
