Page 8 of Wed to the Dark Elf

CHAPTER5

Vamen

I stride through the familiar halls, soldiers and servants dipping their heads respectfully as I pass. Another day overseeing my domain, the only life I’ve known these long decades since the Great Shift thrust our kindred upon this harsh land. Yet now my thoughts stray to the young human wife waiting in my chambers. Iris. An anomaly in my world.

I still ponder the priests’ logic in matching us. She seems so ill-fitted for the brutal climes of the North. A summer songbird among crows. But the rune-marked ring on my hand whispers of arcane forces beyond reason. Fate binds us, whatever doubts assail me.

Returning to my quarters, I find Iris seated by the fire, brushing out the long waves of her flaxen hair. The maidservant I assigned her is nowhere in sight. Iris starts at my entrance, clutching the brush to her breast. Perhaps she hoped to be abed before my return.

“Good evening, my lord. I did not expect you so late.”

“Please, you are my wife, call me Vamen. The days are long here. You will adjust.”

She nods, returning to her brushing with careful focus on the flames. I watch her from the doorway, intrigued by the interplay of firelight on the red-gold strands. So unlike our females’ straight, moon-silver tresses.

"Your hair..." I hesitate, unsure how to give voice to my fascination. "Forgive me, I've never seen its likeness before."

Iris blinks in surprise at my awkward compliment. Small bare feet peek from beneath her nightshift. She seems diminished without the fine dresses and shoes. Younger somehow. Vulnerable.

I clear my throat gruffly, recalling propriety has no place here. "But you should be abed. I will withdraw to my chamber."

"No!" She blurts out suddenly. At my raised eyebrow she collects herself, fingers worrying the hairbrush handle. "I mean...could we not sit together for a while? Near the fire?"

Her request takes me aback. We have been careful to maintain distance, unsure how to navigate this forced intimacy. Yet I find myself nodding before I can think better of it.

Iris scoots wordlessly to one side of the fur-draped chair. After a small hesitation, I settled on the opposite end, careful to leave respectful space between us. We both stare fixedly into the low flames, the only sound the crackling logs.

I rack my mind on how to break this stilted awkwardness between us. She is my wife, yet feels more stranger than kin. I know nothing of her beyond the scantest details from the temple missive announcing our match. Her life before then is a mystery. Curiosity loosens my tongue.

No elf maid would sit with me so informally, unattended and in her bed clothes. Yet it feels...pleasant. Comforting, even. I stretch my marked hand before my eyes, remembering the heat of her soft touch. Whatever fate’s purpose in binding us so, I cannot deny she stirs this strange protectiveness in me.

Perhaps that alone shows the magic serves some deeper end. With this revelation warming me, I finally speak.

“You mentioned once you were raised in the temple’s care?”

Iris nods, eyes clouding. “Since I was a small child. My parents both died from the red fever.”

“I am sorry.” Strange to think this woman beside me grew up an orphan. I cannot envision an elfling bereft of family and clan. Such fragility is alien to my kind. Yet she survived, like a weed forcing its way through stone.

Iris gives a small shrug. “It was a hard life, but not unkind. We found ways to laugh, Lena and I.” A nostalgic smile touches her lips. “I miss her most of all. My only real friend.”

I shift uncertainty, privy now to this intimate hurt I cannot hope to salve. But Iris’s expression holds no bitterness or blame. Her quiet resilience earns my respect.

“You have courage worthy of any elven maid. I hope in time you will find a home here.”

Iris looks at me directly for the first time since I entered. Something in her face softens. “You are most kind, Vamen. I will try my best.”

We fall quiet again, but the silence holds less strain. When the logs burn down to glowing embers, Iris stifles a delicate yawn behind her hand. I stand and offer my own hand in a formal gesture.

“I’m due for a bath.” She smiles sleepily.

I check the guards and make sure all is settled for the night. I make my way back to Iris. By now she would have bathed and should be ready for bed. I pause at my water closet and take care of cleansing. Upon entering the hall, I turn to the servants. “No interruptions for the night unless it’s life or death.” They bow the answer as I walk through the double doors of Iris’s chambers and dismiss her servants for the night.

My angel human relaxes on the bed, her flaxen hair spilling down and over her left breast. Beautiful eyes look up at me and a smile stretches across her face. I come to her, ready to make her mine again.

“My husband, have you changed your mind and decided to join your wife for the night?”

My body relaxes beside her after I remove the robe.

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