Page 10 of Elf Prince

He tapped Weylind’s shoulder. When Weylind glanced up, Farrendel held out the paper and pointed at the section.

Weylind read it, then faced King Averett, set the paper on the table, and pointed at the section that stated the bride and groom would kiss in front of the entire gathering. “This is unacceptable.”

King Averett frowned, read the words, then scowled. “You’re right. I’m not sure how that ended up included. It’s part of a traditional ceremony, but not necessary for a wedding to be legally binding.” He took his pen and scratched a line through that section. “Plan on skipping that part of the ceremony.”

Farrendel held back his sigh of relief as he reclaimed the paper. The rest of the ceremony seemed doable.

At the next lull in the conversation, he swallowed and forced himself to ask another question. “What manner of attire is expected?”

Elves wore specific clothing for a wedding due to what their ceremony entailed. But Farrendel had not seen anything in the human wedding that would necessitate a particular style.

King Averett glanced at him. “It is usually fancy, ballroom style clothing, though the bride’s dress is more important than the groom’s attire.” When Farrendel continued to stare at him, King Averett gestured. “What you’re wearing now is fine.”

Farrendel nodded. He had an even fancier tunic and trousers with him in case it was needed for any formal ceremony as part of the treaty signing. As his wedding was the formal ceremony, he might as well wear it then.

When it was finally time to return to their train that evening, Farrendel retreated to his private train car, not wishing for yet another argument with Weylind, and retrieved a box from one of the shelves beneath the windows.

Inside the box lay his circlet, a silver band formed from twining leaves and branches. Like his ceremonial tunic, he had taken the crown in case something more formal was necessary.

Also in the box lay several rings that matched the crown. Even though many among the elven court favored wearing rings for ornamentation, Farrendel had never worn them, as he did not like the constriction of rings on his fingers or how they rubbed against the hilts of his swords.

But they would serve a purpose now. Apparently, it was rather important in a human ceremony that the groom gift a ring to the bride.

What size was Princess Elspeth’s finger? He closed his eyes. Small, if he remembered right. As elven fingers tended to be long and slim, any number of these rings should fit her.

He chose a simple band that matched the crown but did not have some of the heavier bands or flourishes of some of the other rings. It seemed the safest choice.

If he had any conceptions about what his marriage would be like, this was not it. He had never expected he would marry, much less marry a complete stranger. A human, no less.

His reputation, forever damaged thanks to his illegitimate birth, would be even more damaged because of this. One more flaw for an already flawed elf prince.

He could perhaps redeem himself in the eyes of the court if he made it clear how unwilling he was in the match. How it was merely to appease the humans and nothing more.

And yet, when he thought of Princess Elspeth’s smile, he could not comprehend ignoring her like that.

Weylind was right. Farrendel was already growing too attached to her. He knew nothing about her besides her smile and her name, and yet here he was contemplating choosing her over the honor before the elven court that he had worked his whole life to gain.

Never trust a human bargain. That was the warning. But what about a human’s smile?

ChapterFour

Farrendel straightened his circlet one last time, feeling the sway in the deck beneath his feet as the ship gently docked on the Escarlish shore. He faced the mirror in his cabin before he turned away.

This would be the first time an elven king had peacefully stepped foot on Escarlish soil in hundreds of years. Weylind never had, though he thought their father might have early in his reign before Escarland had grown into the powerful nation it was now and the current tensions had arisen. Their grandmother Leyleira would know. She occasionally told stories of a time when humans and elves were allies, rather than enemies.

It would be the first time in living memory for the humans. A momentous occasion.

Unless it was a trap.

When King Averett had insisted the human-style wedding be held on the Escarlish shore, Weylind had reluctantly agreed. But he had warned Farrendel to stay alert. Getting the elf king into an Escarlish outpost where he could be surrounded by hundreds of soldiers and ambushed could be the entire reason the humans had pushed for this marriage alliance, never mind the peace treaty they had so eagerly signed that morning.

Alliance or ambush? Which would it be?

Farrendel did not wear his swords. It did not seem appropriate to be so obtrusively armed at his wedding. Instead, he had hidden knives in his boots, up his sleeves, beneath his tunic between his shoulder blades, and at the small of his back.

If this was an ambush, it would be up to him to extricate his brother safely. It would not matter how many Escarlish soldiers he killed. This ceremonial tunic would end the day as blood-spattered rags.

His stomach churned. He needed this to be anything other than an ambush.

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