Page 88 of Pretense

Farrendel flipped open the front cover of the file folder.

As they read, the tragic story of his mother was revealed in every painful detail. She had grown up on the fringes of society, already in a difficult place in life from the moment she was born. But then she had only made her life harder by her decisions.

Essie couldn’t help it. She cried. Several times.

She understood why Farrendel’s father might have been drawn to this elf woman when he had been at his lowest. One hurting soul trying to find solace in another, only to leave each other even more burned and hurting.

Farrendel’s father had come back from that. He’d had family and duty to give him a reason to stop the spiral and start living. But Farrendel’s mother never had, even when given the chance to do so. Instead, she’d gone back to her low point until she was eventually killed.

There was nothing as tangible as a letter from her to provide closure for Farrendel. No record that she had ever contacted the royal family asking for information about her son. Just the story of a life that had been filled with pain and tragedy from its beginning to end.

But Essie had two things she hadn’t had before.

A name. Filauria.

And a sketch of the elf woman, her eyes and expression hauntingly sad even in the black and white ink.

When Farrendel and Weylind stood side-by-side, there was enough resemblance that Essie could tell they were brothers, once it was pointed out. But Farrendel had gotten a great deal of his looks from his mother. The shape of his eyes, the tilt to his mouth, the set of his jaw and cheekbones. They were all mirrored on the paper before them.

“She was very beautiful.” Essie rested a hand on Farrendel’s chest and tipped her face up, waiting until he glanced down at her. “I know you’ll always regret that you never had a chance to meet her. And it hurts, knowing that her life was one of such pain. But she gave you two of the greatest gifts that she could have. She gave you life, and she gave you a home by giving you up. When she knew she couldn’t take care of you herself, she made the greatest sacrifice she could have in ensuring that you would be loved and cared for. It might not be the kind of mother’s love that you wanted, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t there.”

Farrendel gave a nod, then pressed his face against Essie’s hair. He was trembling, his breathing ragged and choked.

She held him tighter, giving him the silence he needed.

What would his life have been like if his mother hadn’t made the sacrifice to give him to his father to raise? Would Filauria have gotten her life together enough to have been a good mother? Or would Farrendel have grown up on the streets, neglected? Would Filauria still have been murdered, leaving Farrendel all alone with no family and no friends at twenty years old, an age that was still a young child for an elf?

He still would have ended up in the elven army eventually, if simply to give himself a roof over his head and a few square meals a day. The Tarenhieli generals would have turned him into even more of a weapon than he had been, sending him into war without any concern for his mental state. If he had still been captured, would the army have launched a rescue attempt for a no-name elf, even if he was a warrior with great magic? Or would he have been left to be tortured, then killed at the hands of the trolls? Mourned for the loss of his magic, then forgotten.

Essie never would have married him. That much was for sure. There would have been no marriage alliance. No deepening ties with Tarenhiel. Nothing but war between Escarland and Tarenhiel, continuing war between Tarenhiel and Kostaria, until all three of their kingdoms had destroyed each other and Mongavaria swept up the shattered pieces.

It was such a bleak what-if to contemplate. Essie gave a shiver and gripped Farrendel’s warm shirt tighter. In doing what was best for her child, Filauria had changed the course of history for three kingdoms.

When Farrendel’s shaking calmed, Essie mumbled against his shirt, “Are you all right?”

His voice was still strained, but at least he was calm enough to talk. “I will be.”

It was a start, at least. Essie touched the sketch still on top of the file in front of them. “Perhaps we can have this framed, and we can hang it in one of our homes.”

She wasn’t sure which would be more appropriate. Farrendel’s family wasn’t quite ready to see a picture of Filauria hanging in Essie’s and Farrendel’s main room in Estyra. Perhaps they could find a place on the wall in their bedroom.

Or they could hang it in Buckmore Cottage in Aldon. Though, it seemed a little strange to honor Filauria in the kingdom whose people had killed her.

Humans from Escarland had killed Farrendel’s mother. Elves from Tarenhiel had killed Essie’s father. Perhaps Essie should hang a picture of her father in Estyra, and the pictures could represent healing instead of mourning.

“I would like that.” Farrendel shuddered one last time before he stilled. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Linshi, my shynafir, for being here with me for this.”

“Of course. I’m always here for you.” Essie curled against his chest, not wanting to move from her comfortable spot. But she sighed, rolling enough to reach for the plate she had set aside. “Ugh. Even crying is making me nauseous now.”

“Do I need to get the bucket?” Farrendel leaned away from her, as if worried she was about to vomit on his shirt.

“Not yet.” She took a bite of what remained of the bread. It had gone a bit crusty while sitting out, but it was still edible. The meat was now hard and unappetizing, and the cheese had gotten that discolored, dry look to it. “But I think we might need to scrounge up some more leftovers.”

Farrendel was shoving the files aside and on his feet in a heartbeat. “I can fetch something for you.”

“No, I’ll come along.” Essie climbed out of bed, her legs protesting after being curled up for so long. After spending so long in bed, she was on the verge of a headachy grogginess if she didn’t get up and stretch. “Some fresh air will do me good. And if we hurry, we might even catch some of the sunset reflected in the lake.”

The smile was back on Farrendel’s face, even if it was still edged with a hint of weariness. “Yes.”

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