Page 55 of Healed By the Grumpy Elf
The door is unlocked, as Maeve often leaves it. I push it open gently, calling her name softly.
"Maeve?"
No response, but I hear low voices coming from the kitchen. I move through the small living room, past shelves overflowing with books and plants, toward the sound of conversation.
The scene that greets me freezes me in place. Maeve sits rigidly at her round wooden table, her copper curls vivid against the pale greenof her kitchen walls. Her face is unreadable, hands flat on the table surface.
Across from her sits a woman I'd recognize in a crowd of a thousand, a hundred thousand. Duchess Karanda of Nurenbatin sits at Maeve’s table, dressed in a deep-blue velvet gown with silver embroidery that catches the late afternoon light streaming through the kitchen window. Her silver-blond hair is arranged in an elaborate braid, and her ageless face bears the serene expression cultivated by decades of court politics.
The air seems to crystalize around us in a moment of perfect, terrible stillness. Maeve doesn't turn to look at me, her shoulders tense, her knuckles white against the wooden tabletop.
The duchess rises with practiced grace, her movement fluid and deliberate. Her eyes find mine, betraying only the slightest surprise at my appearance.
"Lorian," she says, her voice soft but carrying the weight of her authority, "I've come to bring you home."
The carefully prepared speech about the lily and my hopes for our future crumbles away, replaced by cold dread.
My past has finally caught up with me, and this time, it isn't leaving quietly.
Chapter 17
Maeve
Thiswasn’thowIpictured my evening going.
The pale-green walls of my kitchen suddenly feel too close, too confining as I sit rigidly in my wooden chair. Across from me, the elven woman's perfect posture makes my own spine ache in sympathy. Or perhaps it’s just the tension.
The air is thick enough to slice with a knife as she sits there, like the mere fact of being inside my house will leave a stain on her perfectlytailored dress.
She arrived unannounced and unexpected. I'd been preparing seedlings for my garden when a soft knock at my door revealed this ethereal creature on my doorstep. The contrast between us couldn't be more stark, her in deep-blue velvet with intricate silver embroidery that catches the afternoon light streaming through my kitchen windows; me in faded jeans and a faded t-shirt that I wear for gardening.
That was twenty minutes ago.
"More tea?" I offer, desperate to break the uncomfortable silence that has fallen between us.
"No, thank you." Her voice carries a musical lilt, but I don’t miss the condescending undertone that goes along with it.
The afternoon sunlight catches on her elaborate silver-blond braid, making it shimmer as if lit from within. Next to her, I feel unruly and unkempt with my wild copper curls. I have to resist the urge to smooth them down.
“How do you know Lorian?” I ask, desperate to fill the uncomfortable silence.
"Lorian and I have known each other for many years," she answers with the thinnest of smiles. "Most families in the High Court have."
She's been speaking in these vague terms since arriving, dancing around her actual relationship with Lorian, offering me tidbit answers without revealing anything of substance.
"He never mentioned someone might be visiting." I pause, realizing I still don't know her title or even her full name. She introduced herself simply as Karanda when she arrived, offering no explanation for her unexpected visit.
"No, I don't imagine he would have." Her smile doesn't reach her ice-blue eyes. "High Court elves tend to be discreet around outsiders."
Outsider. Is that what I am to him?
My fingers tighten around my mug of tea, the ceramic warm against my skin. The scent of chamomile rises with the steam, mingling with the omnipresent smell of the herbs hanging from my kitchen rafters and the faint aroma of the bread I baked this morning.
I open my mouth to continue asking questions when I hear the front door open. Relief floods through me at the familiar sound of Lorian's footsteps in the hallway.
Finally, I’m going to have some answers.
"Maeve?" he calls softly from the living room.