Page 18 of Elf Prince

Instead of entering his room, he took the middle doorway and climbed the stairway formed out of the branch up to the guest bedroom perched higher on the branch. A small porch ringed the room grown into the tree. Twigs and leaves grew from the walls and the porch posts.

What would Princess Elspeth think when she saw it? He was unsure what human dwellings looked like, though if they were anything like the fort by the river, they were large and square and solid. Not like the airy and open elven homes.

He stepped inside. The place was clean, at least. The servants had placed Princess Elspeth’s things on the clothing shelves and made the bed. Farrendel took a moment to check the attached water closet. It was stocked with soap, shampoo, and conditioner on the chance he ever had a guest who needed them. As he had never had guests, they had never been used.

Perhaps he could take Princess Elspeth to visit Illyna, a former warrior and friend of his who ran her own shop, to pick out new shampoo and conditioner. It would give them something to do, at least.

This place was as ready for her as he could make it.

He returned to the main room and stared for far too long at his luggage sitting in the middle of the floor.

He needed to get ready for his wedding. Again. He had already married her once, yet somehow this time seemed more momentous. Even though he had much to do before the wedding, he found himself standing there paralyzed.

A knock came on his door, snapping him out of his paralysis. He bit back his urge to tell the person there to leave. On this day, he would most likely have to bear all sorts of intrusions into his sanctuary.

He strode to the door and opened it. As soon as he did, he was thankful he had held back his order to leave.

His grandmother Leyleira stood on his porch, her dark black hair flowing down her back over her green dress, the white streak in her hair prominent. Farrendel bowed his head. “Machasheni. What are you doing here?”

She had been residing at Lethorel, enjoying some rest away from the machinations of the court.

One of her eyebrows shot up. “My grandson is getting married. Of course I came. I am only sorry I was unable to arrive in time to greet you and your bride with the others. Now, may I come in?”

Farrendel nodded and stepped inside to allow her entry. She was his grandmother by blood just as much as she was Weylind’s, Melantha’s, and Jalissa’s. Yet, Farrendel always felt like he could never fully claim her. As if he had no right to truly be a part of this family, even though the blood of the elven kings ran in his veins.

The door clicked shut behind his grandmother. She faced him, that eyebrow still raised. “Now, Farrendel. What is this I hear about you getting married for an alliance with the humans?”

He was not sure what information she was looking for. His grandmother’s mind was still sharp as Farrendel’s swords. She did not ask questions lightly, nor would she hesitate to parse every word he said until she examined each nuance of meaning, intentional or otherwise. “It was the condition the humans placed on the treaty. I was the most logical choice.”

She stared at him, her gaze still piercing and unwavering. All but ordering him to keep talking.

“It was either marry her or risk more war and more killing.” Farrendel gave a small shrug. “It seemed like the better option.”

“The better option for you or the better option for your people?” Her tone was even, not giving away her own thoughts on the matter.

There was that eyebrow. How was Farrendel supposed to stay steady and not shift like a child caught stealing a treat from the kitchen? “Both. I do not wish to shed more blood. Nor do I wish to see elves and humans slaughter each other so needlessly.”

“You would spare both elf and human lives?”

Why did she keep pushing this? “Yes.”

A hint of a smile crossed his grandmother’s face for a moment before she replaced it with her piercing gaze once more. “And your human bride? Is she as willingly marrying you for the sake of her people as you are for the sake of yours?”

Strangely, he did not have to think long about the answer. “Yes.”

He braced himself for yet another lecture on not growing too attached to Princess Elspeth. Perhaps with another admonishment about the short lives of humans.

Machasheni stepped closer and rested a hand on his cheek. “Then I wish you every happiness with your bride, sasonsheni.”

He rested his hands on her shoulders. Although he hesitated, his grandmother did not hold back from him.

Still, he let her words sink in. “You believe happiness is possible.”

She patted his cheek, as if he was a small boy again. “Of course. Surely two people so willing to sacrifice themselves for the sake of their peoples will find a way to turn such deep love and loyalty toward each other.”

Farrendel stumbled back. Had he heard that right? “First happiness, now love? You are not going to counsel me to avoid forming an attachment to the human?”

“Is that what your brother has been telling you? Pah.” Machasheni Leyleira made the most undignified snorting sound he had ever heard from her. “Do not listen to him. You would think he would give better advice after the counsel I gave him when he married his Rheva. But he is young. He is not as wise as he thinks he is.”

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