Page 41 of Troll Queen

Farrendel blocked the pillow with an arm, though he didn’t smile as she’d hoped.

“Ah, I see. You’re not the pillow fight kind of person. Maybe you’re the read-a-book-under-a-blanket kind of pillow fort person.” Essie plopped the pillow back into its spot. “I’m sure that Escarlish history book you started reading last time is still around here somewhere.”

That earned a twitch of a smile. But it faded quickly. “I never should have locked you out in Estyra. I should have known you would come up with a creative, better solution.”

He hadn’t been thinking, too caught up in whatever fog he’d been stuck in. That still didn’t make what he’d done right or take away the lingering sting. Especially since, while he was no longer locking her out physically, he was still keeping the wall between them in the heart bond.

But Essie was thankful he was at a point where he could see that locking her out had been a problem. And she could forgive him. He had made a mistake, but it was not something that was a part of his normal behavior.

She leaned across the pillow wall and kissed his cheek. “Just don’t ever, ever do it again.”

“I will not.” Farrendel reached across the pillows and clasped her hands.

The gesture was tentative, but it was a start. Surely things would only get better from here.

FARRENDEL WOKE groggyand dry-mouthed. He stifled a groan against his pillow. This was the part of taking a sedative that he always hated. He woke feeling groggy the next morning. At least the elven magic was better than that human drug the trolls had used on him. That drug had given him nausea and a headache on top of the grogginess.

A part of him did not want to get up. That weight was back, the fog in his head telling him that he should not care about Julien or exercising or climbing out of bed. It would be so much easier if he did not move.

But Julien was waiting, and Farrendel would not put it past him to march up there and drag him out of bed if that was what it took. It seemed all of his brothers were conspiring to force him back onto his feet one way or another.

Gathering the last shreds of willpower he possessed, Farrendel pushed onto his elbows, then crawled out of the nest of pillows Essie had built for him. She still slept, her hair flaming across her pillow and her breathing loud.

As he had not woken her last night with screaming, she probably assumed, as she had the night before, that he had not had any nightmares.

He had. The sedative had just kept him so deeply asleep he had not thrashed, cried out, or woken. Thankfully, the nightmares themselves remained hazy as well, and he had not experienced them as vividly as he did normally.

He eased from the bed as carefully as possible to avoid waking Essie. After dressing in a shirt, trousers, and boots, he strapped his swords across his back. He had to tighten the straps as tight as they would go, and even then his swords remained too loose against his back.

After sneaking a light breakfast of meat and cheese from the kitchen and taking the morning dose of strawberry-flavored medicine, he crept out the door and entered the garden. The early morning air was crisp against his skin, a light fog blanketing the garden and the forest, and he suppressed a shiver. Maybe he should have grabbed a cloak, though he would get warm once Julien started whatever training session he had in mind.

Three figures appeared out of the mist. Farrendel reached for a sword, before he recognized Julien and Iyrinder. The third man was shorter than the rest of them, but not by much. He had a thin cavalry sword like Julien’s strapped to his hip while a small Escarlish gun—Farrendel could not think of the name for it—was in a holster on his other side. He seemed vaguely familiar, though Farrendel could not place him.

“Good morning.” Julien swept a glance over Farrendel, then waved at the stranger. “This is your new Escarlish captain of the guard, Captain Eugene Merrick. He served as a captain in the palace guard and has served as the patrol leader for Averett’s personal guards.”

That would explain why he seemed familiar. Farrendel must have glimpsed him a few times last time he had been in Escarland or in those few days after his rescue in Kostaria.

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