I stop eating and nod. “He smells like a Fey. He smells like the Old Forest. He’s not afraid of me in the slightest. He’s kind, and something about him makes me feel calm. Everything in me goes quiet and still when he’s near.”
My mother grimaces. “I know that none of this has been easy for you. It hasn’t been easy for us either. We don’t know how to help you. If he can do that, then perhaps this offer is for the best.”
I sigh, trying not to get my hopes up. “What’s he offering?”
My mother smiles, “Marriage. First and only wife. Far better than we thought we’d get from anyone, with you unable to shift back.”
The thing inside me unwinds just a bit more, and I have something I haven’t had in a long time – hope. That incredible, glorious male all to myself. I start eating again, listening to my mother as she tells me everything she knows about this human male. My mother chatters about how handsome he is, and he is indeed glorious.
He’s just as impressive as a Fey male. He has lands and a title from his homeland. He’s wealthy. It’s not decided yet where we’ll live—whether he'll stay here or if I'll return with him. He’s here as part of a group to negotiate a trade deal with our king. He’s still learning our language and customs, so he sometimes makes terrible mistakes, but he’s so charming when he apologizes that everyone forgives him. I can see that. He’s been captivating, kind, and thoughtful toward me.
My mother asks how we met. I tell her about walking back from court, seeing a human, feeling curious, and changing my course to get a closer look. Then I tell her that we just stood there, transfixed with each other, until the trade cart interrupted us. For once, my always-chatty mother is silent. After a moment, she seems to come to a decision. “You never spoke to him?”
I shake my head. “Not until he asked me to go for a walk.”
My mother looks at me and smirks.
She looks like the cat that stole all the cream; she's so pleased. “Oh, my girl. It can’t have been two hours. He saw you, found out who you were, and came straight here to propose. There wasn’t a bit of hesitation once he realized you weren’t already spoken for. He seems very sure of what he wants and determined to have you. I suppose I should help you start planning your wedding. If we can do it quickly enough, the king won’t be able to interfere too much.”
I growl instinctively at the thought of the king trying to keep me away from this male. Every time the king meddles in my life, I end up bitterly unhappy. I hate that man. He’s lucky we don’t still follow the Old Ways, or it would have been three hundred and eighty-seven duels, and the Fey would have a feral queen. My mother bursts out laughing at my response. “It seems you’re just as set on having him. I’ll go to the temple first thing tomorrow and start the arrangements.”
My mother and I sit talking about what I’d like.
Honestly, I’d rather do things the Old Ways. I’d be naked with him somewhere in the Old Forest and exchange vows before the trees and stones. That it seems isn’t going to be permitted. It seems this will be a huge social event – just perfect for a half-feral Fey. All the fear and snide comments will make it absolutely fantastic. If I lose my composure even a little, they have proof I am the thing they fear I am, and if I don’t, they won’t stop. There’s no winning that, so I set it aside for now.
This is the first time in centuries that a human has married a Fey, and everyone seems set on turning it into some state event. My next words to my mother drip with sarcasm and puddle at her feet. “I’m thrilled beyond words to be put on display and paraded around as the dog in this dog and pony show.”
I see the heartbreak in her face, so I try to explain. “All those people. All that fear. I’ll be so jumpy, I’m scared my control might slip. So help me, if I have to listen to any vile comments too, it might just push me over the edge.”
I can see that she wants to hug me, but can’t. Everything is always at an impasse. I can’t shift back, and she can’t overcome her fear. I hang my head and try not to weep. I’m so lost in my misery that I don’t even sense him approaching. Instead, another arm reaches around to comfort me. I smell the Old Forest and hear the rumble of his baritone. “I’ll be there too. We’ll get through this together. You’re not alone anymore. If I hear a single disrespectful comment directed at you, I’ll handle it. If things become too overwhelming, you can hide behind me, and I’ll be your shield. If it gets too bad, we can sneak away. I’m sure I’ll not be the first man to sneak his bride out of the wedding celebration.”
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
I look up at him. By all the Gods! He means every word of it. I nod and bury my face in his shoulder as he offers comfort. After a moment, he pulls back, scanning my face. Satisfied that my fear has eased, he kisses my forehead. “I’ll call for you tomorrow.”
I smile and lower my head as he chuckles. He’s gone, and a palpable emptiness remains. My father looks at my mother. “It’s a good match.”
My mother nods. My father sniffs at me. “He hasn’t marked you yet. Make sure he does it tomorrow.”
Frowning uncertainly, I look up at my father. “Humans have different mating habits. I’ll discuss it with him tomorrow.”
Frowning back, my father asks, “Different how?”
I shrug, “I’m not sure. A rainstorm interrupted our discussion. I’ll find out and tell you.”
I finish my food and go to lie down. I can hear my parents chatting, excited and happy for the first time since I came home. They were delighted that I was finally coming home. Then I got here, and they saw what they were dealing with.
I haven’t seen these people in ages. Any leave I had, I spent dueling. I have closer ties with my war band. Gods, I miss them. There were sixteen of us, and we fought together, ate together, slept next to each other, sometimes with each other during the war. How do any of us navigate this? How do our families get through it? It’s been a frustrating and challenging time for everyone. I haven't been able to shift, and they haven't been able to control their fear response to me, even though I can see in their faces that they desperately want to comfort me.
I drift off to sleep listening to my parents planning my wedding. For the first time in a long while, it's nighttime, and I am asleep instead of standing guard. My mother gets frustrated with me prowling around the house all night and sleeping during the day. I don't think I've slept at night in ages. The abominations we fought always liked to attack at night, so we were always on high alert then. It was safer to sleep during the day, so that's what we did. I still have battles in my dreams, but at least this morning I woke up excited because he promised to come back.
I'm having trouble deciding what to wear. I keep trying different outfits and experimenting with my hair. Finally, I settle on something I like. My hair is up with lots of loose tendrils, and the dress is made of layers of gauze that aren't too confining. I’d like him to chase me through the Old Forest. My father wants me to make sure that he marks me today so the king can't interfere with the wedding plans. Mother's already gone to the temple to find out when they're available and to start making arrangements for the feast and dancing afterward.
I search for the guest list and add the names of those I know who are still alive. I think for a moment and get a clean sheet of paper. I begin making a list of all the others I would invite if they were still here. When I finish writing, it's a lot of names, and it hurts me a bit to see just how extensive the list is. I sand the ink so it won't smudge, and I roll up my list. I’ll burn this at the ceremony so they know they’re welcome to visit. My heart feels lighter than it has in a very long time.
Somehow, I think he'll understand. My mother comes home and looks at me, nodding in approval. “You look lovely. If he wasn't already enamored of you, I think this would do it. I've spoken to the priest, and the soonest they can manage is six weeks. Your father and I will talk to him and see if that's acceptable.”
I roll my eyes. “Mother, you know I’d rather do this the Old Ways. Just he and I out in the forest.”
My mother frowns. “We're more civilized than that these days. No one does that anymore. Everyone goes to the temple. Have you thought about what your wedding dress should be?”
I smirk and nod. “I'll show you tonight when he brings me back.”
My mother nods. “Then I can make sure the decorations go with your dress.”
Tears start in her eyes. “Oh, my girl. I never thought I'd see the day you got married. They took you off to that terrible training center, and I was certain that would be the last time I saw you. I cried for days. Your father kept insisting that you'd make it home. You made it home, but I can't say it's in one piece. I hope this brings you peace and joy. I can't help wishing for a grandbaby or two.”
I laugh because my mother is incorrigible. She wanted grandchildren when I was playing with dolls. We stand there chatting, and the twisted feeling inside me untwists just a little more. Slowly, incrementally, whatever it is, it's starting to relax. I hear a knock at the door and go to open it. It’s him. He takes in my dress, and his eyes become hooded as they scan over me. I offer an appreciative smile. He clears his throat and asks if I'd like to go for a ride. He's borrowed horses from someone.
“I'd love that. Let me change.”
A flick of my wrist, and my dress transforms into pants suitable for riding. I know how to make him chase me now. The idea of being hunted, pursued by this male, heightens my arousal. I see his nostrils flare, and he chuckles. He helps me onto the horse, and I settle into the saddle. I'm glad to notice that he gets on his horse without help. We start riding through the city, and he turns to me. “Where do you want to go?”
I smile at him. “Back to the Old Forest.”
He nods, “Lead the way.”
We ride calmly most of the way. Finally, I spot what I'm looking for. It's an old game trail crossing the road. I kick my horse into a gallop and glance over my shoulder.
This chapter is one of those rare, precious reprieves where no one:
- screams “YOU LIE,”
- flings spittle like a defective sprinkler,
- or refers to themselves in the royal “we” because their ego has the structural integrity of wet parchment.
In other words:
It’s a lovely chapter, and Ellisar should stay far, far away from it.