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The carriage halted, and Farrendel found himself following Essie out of the carriage. The gathered crowd started cheering and calling Essie’s name, held back by a line of Escarlish guards.

Farrendel trailed behind Essie as she waved and walked past the first few people. Then, she halted and crouched before a woman and a little girl. Farrendel halted as well, standing behind Essie and trying not to look scary.

The little girl held out a bouquet of a few semi-wilted flowers. “For you, Prin’ess Essie.”

“Thank you.” Essie took the flowers and straightened. For a moment, she glanced between the flowers and their clasped hands, as if she was considering which she would have to drop to regain a free hand.

Farrendel took the flowers from her, earning him a smile from Essie.

Strolling along the line of people, Essie stopped to talk to a few more people. Others gave her flowers, and Farrendel added them to the growing bouquet he was carrying. If he focused on Essie, the gnawing panic remained at the edges.

Finally, the doors opened for them, then shut behind him, blocking out the clamor of too many people crowded in the street.

Several women wearing neat, professional looking dresses waited for them in the entry. They introduced themselves, but Farrendel’s head was still in too much of a whirl for him to remember their names or their roles here at the women’s and children’s shelter.

A servant woman hurried to him, giving a curtsy. “I can put those in water, Your Highness.”

Farrendel just blinked at her, then at Essie.

“The flowers?” The servant woman bobbed another curtsy and pointed at the flowers he still gripped in his hand.

Oh, right. The flowers. Farrendel stiffly handed them over, flexing his fingers to loosen the tension. The poor stems looked a bit worse for the wear after he had been gripping them so tightly.

One of the women gestured toward a door leading off to the right. “The children are doing finger painting, if you would like to join them, Your Highnesses.”

Essie grinned, her fingers squeezing his as if to try to bring him back to her from the buzzing, whirling panic that threatened to steal him away.

He just had to get through this. A few more days, then he and Essie could retreat to Lethorel.

* * *

Essie knelt on the floor in a cluster of children, her fingers and arms covered in paint as she worked on a finger painting. It was supposed to be Ellonahshinel, but apparently trying to capture the beauty of the elven treetop city was a little much for finger paint, especially with Essie’s lack of artistic skills.

One of the little girls held up her picture, featuring a badly proportioned stick figure with red hair that looked more like flames shooting out of the top of her head. “This is for you, Princess Essie.”

“Thank you. It is beautiful.” Essie carefully took the picture, trying not to get too many smears of paint on it from her fingers.

“And this is Prince Farren…Farrdel…” One of the little boys held up his painting, his forehead scrunched as he tried to pronounce Farrendel’s name. The picture had another stick figure, with massive, pointed ears and swords across his back.

“Oh, that is a lovely drawing of Prince Farrendel.” Essie grinned, glancing from the painting to Farrendel. Would their children draw pictures like this someday? Family portraits of stick figures with giant ears for him and a disaster of red hair for her?

Farther down the table, Farrendel sat in his own group of children. Only the tip of one pointer finger had paint on it, and Farrendel carefully washed his finger each time he changed colors. Given how he was about cleanliness, Essie was surprised he had even been willing to participate, much less had put up with it so well.

As if sensing that she was looking at him, Farrendel glanced up at her. His mouth tipped in a smile, and he gestured at her. “You have a smear of paint on your cheek.”

Essie frowned and reached for her face, then halted when she realized that she would only smear more paint on herself. “It isn’t the first time.” She lowered her hand and smiled first at him, then at the children sitting around her. “Did you know that in an elven wedding ceremony, they paint runes on each other’s faces? The trolls paint runes on each other before battles.”

No need to mention that those battles were fights to the death.

Farrendel leaned over the children and touched her cheek. Essie held still as he gently traced something over the smear of paint. When he was finished, he straightened. “That means Speak kindness.”

The children gazed at the two of them with wide eyes. Essie smiled to reassure them. “Yes. For the elves, such runes are more than a mere wish. It is a blessing.”

“Whoa.” One of the boys gaped first at Essie, then at Farrendel. “Can I have one?”

Farrendel glanced at Essie, as if asking permission. Essie gave a slight nod. The Speak kindness blessing seemed like a simplified version of what they’d spoken during their elven wedding. Like the Speak honor she had painted on him before the Dulraith in Kostaria.

Farrendel dipped his finger in the blue paint, then traced a rune on the boy’s face. “This one means Live bravely. It is the blessing for a warrior.”