Page 89 of War Bound

After a moment, Jalissa released Essie and turned away, back to the railing in the direction of Linder Island and, beyond it, the forested shore of Tarenhiel. “Good. Knowing he is alive may be the only thing that will calm Weylind at this meeting.”

Elves might appear calm and serene, but when they got angry, it was fierce and simmering. And, for an elf, Weylind had a temper. Perhaps he should’ve been the one stuck with the flaming red hair. He fit the stereotype better than she did most of the time.

The steamboat chugged alongside the wharf now built on Linder Island, its wheels frothing as the captain threw it into reverse to slow, then stop their momentum. Deckhands tossed lines around pilings, tying the boat in place, before lowering the gangplank.

Essie’s stomach knotted even more than it had that day over three months ago. This time, she couldn’t dredge up a smile. Perhaps she had been innocent and naïve back then. She’d blithely told herself she wouldn’t let herself end up heartbroken because of her arranged marriage.

Yet, here she was, hollow and aching. Not for the lack of love, as she had feared, but because of an abundance of it.

She followed Averett and Julien down the gangplank with Edmund and Jalissa and several guards falling in behind them. They strode past the stone blockhouse by the wharf that provided shelter for the telegraph operator and dock workers stationed here to pass along messages and shipments of goods across the island to the elves stationed only a few yards away on the other side of the island.

As Averett approached the center of the island, King Weylind stalked around the small wooden building the elves had built. His black hair flowed down his back, parting around the hilt of the sword over one shoulder, a quiver of arrows over the other. The buckles on his leather armor glinted as he prowled closer. The two elves marching in his wake also wore armor and weapons, their faces hard as the rock of Linder Island beneath their feet.

Behind Essie, hammers on muskets clicked into place. Boots scuffed as soldiers elbowed past her to hurry to Averett’s side.

“Stand down.” Averett gestured to the soldiers, holding out his arms as if planning to physically hold them back.

“Your Majesty. You need to be protected.” The lieutenant in charge shifted his feet, as if torn between stepping in front of his king to protect him and obeying his king’s order to stand down.

“Stand down. The elven king will not attack. Not yet.” Averett stood tall, his crown glinting in the late afternoon sunlight. Gone was whatever uncertainty he’d shown in his last meeting with King Weylind. Perhaps the better understanding of the elves Essie and Farrendel had provided was giving him confidence. Or maybe he was filled with the same raw-edged, borderline reckless determination that was filling Essie.

“Jalissa, isciena.” King Weylind raised his voice, speaking in elvish. “Step away from them.”

The churn in Essie’s stomach knotted tighter. How angry was King Weylind if he wanted Jalissa out of the way? What was he planning to do?

She’d known he’d be angry, but it had never occurred to her that he would actually attack Averett right here. Surely he wasn’t planning to assassinate Escarland’s king right here and now.

And, he’d only asked Jalissa to step away. Not Essie. Whatever progress she’d made toward him thinking of her as his sister-in-law had apparently vanished in his anger.

Averett glanced over his shoulder. “Translation?”

Jalissa held her head high. “He wishes for me to join him on that side of the island.”

“I see.” The lines around Averett’s mouth deepened. “I will not stop you if you wish to join your brother. I want peace between our peoples. My brothers and I are not armed. Only Essie carries a weapon, and she belongs to both my people and yours. More, I intend to join this war on your brother’s side, if he will hear me out.”

Jalissa held Averett’s gaze for a moment, perhaps searching for the truth in his words. Finally, she gave a clipped nod and faced forward. “Weylind Daresheni, I stand with them. They wish for peace, and I ask you to hear what they have come to say. It is what Farrendel wanted.”

King Weylind didn’t relax. If anything, his posture and expression turned harder, colder. As if just the mention of Farrendel’s name sent his big brother protective instincts into a fury.

“I am going to walk to the center of the island with just my sister. She is armed, but I am not.” Averett stared at King Weylind across the short expanse of the island’s rocky surface separating them.

“Your Majesty...” The lieutenant almost sounded like he was in pain as he dragged out Averett’s title.

“The elven king will not attack while his sister is with us.” Averett didn’t glance away from King Weylind, though he waved a staying hand as some of the guards swung their guns toward Jalissa. “No, she’s not our hostage. Lower your weapons. Be prepared in case the elven king attacks, but I don’t believe he will.”

The lieutenant’s face pinched, like he was trying really hard not to roll his eyes at his king’s naïve approach to politics. But he lowered his musket and took a step back.

“Essie.” Averett motioned her forward, but he didn’t hold out his arm. She wouldn’t have taken it if he had. Perhaps he realized that now wasn’t the time to treat her as a princess that needed an escort but as one who had fought and survived.

She was, after all, the only witness to Melantha’s betrayal. King Weylind had every reason to want to disbelieve Essie’s report, even if the physical evidence of Farrendel’s disappearance, the troll knife Essie had taken, and the types of information that had been leaking to the trolls all corroborated Essie’s story.

Together, Essie and Averett marched toward the center of the island. Across from them, King Weylind stalked forward. Even though he remained well-armed, he came alone, the two elf bodyguards remaining on the far side.

This time, when Averett and King Weylind halted in the center of the island facing each other, there was no fancy meeting tent set up. No chairs and tables and diplomats. And no Farrendel standing cold and deadly at King Weylind’s back.

King Weylind halted only a foot from Averett, looming over him with every inch of his slim, angry elf height. If he had been human, he probably would have jabbed Averett in the chest with his finger. As it was, he leaned close, as if to intimidate with his breath and piercing eyes. “I trusted you to keep my brother safe. Instead, you let him get snatched right from your own palace.”

“My own sister was taken as well.” Averett crossed his arms. “Believe me, I am not happy with what happened either.”

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