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Chef Figo flapped his hand at her. “Go. If you don’t hurry back, you’ll miss the next course.”

Essie hurried back just in time to wolf down a few more bites of vegetables before her plate was whisked away and replaced with a small salad. The dressing was served in small tureens with a spoon so they could ladle as much or as little dressing onto the greens as they liked.

“This one is very mild, if you want to try it. Or that one is more fruit based so it is also mild,” Essie whispered to Farrendel in elvish.

Jalissa eyed them, so hopefully she would take a cue from Farrendel.

Farrendel dribbled a little bit of each on edges of his salad before choosing the raspberry dressing. Jalissa promptly choose that one as well.

Essie tried to relax. Hopefully now Jalissa and Farrendel could enjoy the rest of the meal. Still, it was exhausting trying to anticipate all the snags involved with introducing Farrendel to her culture. Had he been this worried with her? It wasn’t as easy as he’d made it look.

When the main course arrived, Farrendel’s steak was free of pepper and other seasonings while hers was topped with a pepper and mushroom sauce.

He glanced from his plate to hers, then met her gaze. “Linshi.”

Elven forthank you.

“I didn’t want you to be miserable trying to eat.” Essie sliced into her steak. “Food is too delicious to waste.”

FARRENDEL KNELT onthe pink rug in Essie’s room and carefully retrieved the canvas-wrapped packages he had hidden among his belongings, trying to keep his hands from shaking. This was an important custom among his people, and something he would have done if he had courted Essie properly. In Tarenhiel, it would be a significant moment before a proposal.

He reached for another package, a throbbing starting at the back of his head. All this stone around him, pressing down on him. He willed the headache away, at least for now.

“What are those? I don’t remember seeing you pack them.” Essie halted at his side, peering over his shoulder. Unfailingly curious, as always.

After the formal dinner with her family, Essie had brought him back to her room, explaining they would be gathering with her family informally in her mother’s sitting room, but they could take the time to change into comfortable clothes beforehand.

In Tarenhiel, this was not something done in comfortable clothes in an informal setting. But he would have to make allowances for their different customs here. He located the last package and set it on top. “An elven custom I must perform.”

As he stood, the packages cradled against him, she nudged his arm. “You’re being rather mysterious. Usually your brother is the one who likes to be cryptic.”

In Tarenhiel, the prospective bride was not supposed to help. Yet these were unusual circumstances, both because Essie was human and because she and Farrendel were already married. She deserved to be courted properly. Marrying with such haste was not customary for his people, and he needed to prove to her family and, perhaps, to himself that for all the haste of their marriage, he did not take it lightly.

But Essie and her family would not know the significance of this tradition. Perhaps it would be better to enlist her help to make sure he adjusted for human traditions and did not accidentally offend them while he was trying to honor them.

Farrendel set the packages on the bed, then sat cross-legged beside them. How did he go about explaining this? “It is customary that when an elf asks his intended’s family for their blessing for the match, he presents a gift to each of the family members.”