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  ELVEN ALLIANCE BOOK TWO

  TARA GRAYCE

  WAR BOUND

  Copyright © 2020 by Tara Grayce

  Taragrayce.com

  Published by Sword & Cross Publishing

  Grand Rapids, MI

  Sword & Cross Publishing and the Sword & Cross Publishing logo are trademarks. Absence of ™ in connection with Sword & Cross Publishing does not indicate an absence of trademark protection of those marks.

  Cover by Savannah Jezowski of Dragonpen Designs

  Dragonpenpress.com

  Map by Amythyst_art on Fiverr

  All rights reserved. Except for brief quotations in written reviews, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and settings are the product of the author's over-active imagination. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, events, or settings is purely coincidental or used fictitiously.

  To God, my King and Father. Soli Deo Gloria

  Books by Tara Grayce

  Elven Alliance

  Fierce Heart

  War Bound

  Death Wind

  Princess by Night

  Lost in Averell

  Table of Contents

  Books by Tara Grayce

  Table of Contents

  Map

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

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  MAP

  DEAD TROLLS haunted Essie’s nightmares.

  She struggled to drag herself from the images of dead bodies and blood and battle. A nightmare. Just another nightmare.

  A hand shook her shoulder, gently, pulling her all the way awake. “Essie.”

  She rolled onto her back, blinking up at him. “Did I wake you?”

  “No.” Farrendel, her elf husband of three months, withdrew his hand, his silver-blond hair cascading over his shirt and still perfectly unfrizzy and detangled thanks to the magical elf conditioner. Or possibly magic elf hair. Essie hadn’t decided which it was yet.

  He rolled into a cross-legged position on his side of the bed. And it was definitely his side of the bed, pressed underneath the window while she curled against the far side of the rounded, elven bed grown into the wall, leaving several feet of space between them. “Are you all right?”

  “Just tired.” Essie swiped her hair from her face, staring up at the ceiling, visible in the pre-dawn gray. If she hadn’t woken him, then he’d already been awake dealing with the aftermath of his own nightmares. “And you?”

  It had been only two days since Farrendel had killed a hundred trolls with his destructive magic after the trolls ambushed her, Farrendel, and the rest of the royal elf family. Between her nightmares and Farrendel’s, neither of them had managed to sleep much in the nights since.

  It was sad, really. Only reason she was even staying in her husband’s rooms was to more conveniently wake him from his nightmares. At least this was a whole lot better than tromping up and down two flights of stairs between his room on one branch and her room on another branch of their section of the elven treetop palace to wake each other from nightmares.

  It had given them the chance to learn more of each other’s quirks. Elves had a magic barrier around their treehouses keeping them warm and bug free even though their windows were just openings without glass. Farrendel, however, liked to sleep with that magic barrier left open on his window, letting in the cool breezes all night long. Essie had hauled an entire mound of blankets into his room just to stay warm through the night.

  For his part, Farrendel claimed she snored. Or, as Essie insisted, breathed loudly.

  Farrendel glanced at the window. The sky was the deep gray of pre-morning. If there was a hint of light on the horizon, the thick foliage of the elven forest hid it from view. “I do not believe I will sleep more tonight.”

  Essie scooted closer and took his hand. At the touch, she felt the connection of the heart bond warm in her chest. After two days of being this aware of the heart bond, she was becoming used to the feeling. Mostly. “Do you want me to stay up with you?”

  “No. I will not disturb your sleep any longer.” He leaned over to press a light kiss to her forehead before he tugged his hand free from hers. With a graceful motion, he swung over the windowsill and dropped onto the small porch that surrounded the small treehouse bedroom built high in the branches of Ellonahshinel, the elves’ palace at the outskirts of their capital city of Estyra.

  Shedding his shirt, Farrendel flipped over the porch railing, landing on a foot-wide branch. He dashed along that branch, then spun on his heels, kicked out, and pushed off, alighting on a branch only four inches wide with the ease of a great, hunting cat.

  After crawling to his side of the bed, Essie rested her arms on the windowsill and leaned her chin on her arms. What did she want more? More sleep or to gaze at Farrendel while he performed death-defying feats of agility?

  When she’d first come across Farrendel exercising like this, she’d thought it his way to stay in shape since he was Laesornysh, an elven title meaning Death on the Wind, given because he was the foremost elf warrior.

  But was there more to it? Perhaps these early morning workout sessions were a way he stayed sane, working out his mental stress through exhausted muscles. How early did he wake each day, driven from his bed by nightmares?

  She ought to know. She was his wife.

  But they had only known each other for three months. Theirs was a marriage of alliance made out of desperation to draw her people, the humans of the kingdom of Escarland, and his people, the elves of the kingdom of Tarenhiel, together after decades of tension. They hadn’t had a proper courtship or time to fall in love like a normal couple.

  Instead, they’d been married within two days of meeting, and she’d found herself living in the elves’ treetop home. Still, she and Farrendel had managed to build the beginnings of a relationship. Somehow they had even formed an elven elishina, a heart bond.

  Would she and Farrendel have a chance to make more progress in their relationship? Instead of time to themselves, they had an impending war to deal with.

  The real reason the elves had been so desperate for peace with her people was the threat of war from the trolls to the north. A war that someone was trying to start by planting some of her kingdom’s new rifles and repeater guns among the trolls, making it appear that Essie’s older brother Averett was aiding the trolls.

  They had a spy in Escarland. A spy in Tarenhiel. A mess no matter where she turned.

  After letting herself doze for another half an hour, Essie sighed and forced herself to get up. They were leaving for Escarland today, and she would have plenty of time to sleep on the train if she wanted to.

  A peek out the window showed Farrendel still flippin
g, spinning, and running along the branches. Burning the rest of his restless, nightmare-fueled energy.

  Stepping out of the treehouse bedroom that appeared grown into the branch, she crossed the small porch and navigated the set of stairs formed out of the branch. At the bottom, she entered the main room, which consisted of a small countertop and cabinet area while cushions filled the other side to form a sitting area.

  She went through the next door over, up a similar staircase to a matching treehouse bedroom on the next branch. Inside her room, she changed into her elf-style tunic and trousers. After brushing her hair, she left it loose and flowing.

  She would miss this in returning to her homeland. The elves in many ways were traditional and staid, but practically so. They didn’t go in for lots of frills and an excess of fabric in their dresses, nor did women have to wear dresses all the time.

  In Escarland, Essie would be expected to wear a corset and yards of fabric once again. It would be scandalous to wear her hair unbound like this.

  But...she was a princess of the elves now. Maybe it would be her role to introduce elf fashion to Escarlish culture.

  In the past three months, she had proven her place among the elves by showing them she could become one of them. But in Escarland, her people needed to learn to respect the elves, not just hate them as enemies. She would wear the elves’ clothing and hold her head high while she was doing it.

  With that in mind, Essie packed the rest of her elven clothes, as few as there were. She hadn’t lived in Tarenhiel long enough to have more clothes made for her, nor did elves tend to have large wardrobes.

  Once she was finished, she returned to the main room and placed her bag by the door, waiting to be loaded onto the train.

  Essie blew out a long breath, trying to calm her tight chest and churning stomach. Would her family like Farrendel? How would he react to being in Winstead Palace in the bustling capital city of Aldon, so different from the elves’ earthy and calm capital of Estyra?

  It wouldn’t be an easy thing, bringing her elf husband home for the first time. But they had weathered the disapproval of his family. Surely it would be no different with her family.

  As Essie set out a cold breakfast on the small table, Farrendel entered from his room, his hair wet. She gave him a wry smile. “I guess I don’t have to ask how you slept. You slept as badly as I did.”

  His mouth tipped at the corners. An attempt at a smile, at least.

  A knock came from the outer door of the main room. Essie started and glared at the door. “We aren’t due to leave for several hours yet.”

  Farrendel shook his head. “No. I will get it.”

  Essie set out the last of the cold meat, cheese, and fruit for breakfast, trying to pretend she wasn’t curious about their early morning caller.

  When Farrendel shut the door and returned to the table, he carried a canvas-wrapped package. He held it out to her. “It is for you.”

  For her? She set it on a section of the table, untied the twine holding it shut, and opened it, revealing a pile of deep green silk, with glimpses of other fabrics beneath. “What’s this?” She lifted the first dress from the package. She recognized the dark green silk as one she’d picked out one of the times she and Farrendel visited Estyra. “The seamstress finished the rest of my clothes?”

  “Yes.” Farrendel glanced at her, then looked away. But she’d caught the uncertain look in his ice-blue eyes. “I did not want your family to think me stingy with your care.”

  It was sweet of him to worry. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Thank you for caring.”

  Farrendel shifted, still not looking at her. “It will probably not matter. Once we are in Escarland, you will have all the things you left behind there. You will not need these.”

  Essie let out a breath that was something between a sigh and a laugh. He was still worried that, once she returned home, she wouldn’t want to return to Estyra with him. It was, perhaps, a valid worry. She’d left home for that diplomatic meeting three months ago fully expecting to return in a few days. Instead, she’d found herself married and on the way to a new home, though she hadn’t realized then how special this treetop palace in Estyra would become.

  Returning to Winstead Palace would be interesting for both of them. She missed her family. Terribly. It would be wonderful to see them again, even if for only a short time with the cloud of war hanging heavy over them.

  It would also be uncomfortable, trying to bring Farrendel into her family. But she was determined. This would work. This had to work. She would hold her two families together if she had to do it with a white-knuckled grip.

  Essie set down her new dress, eased her arms around Farrendel’s waist, and held him. “I have decided that I’m going to dress like an elf even in Escarland. Your people needed to see a human fitting in with their society in order to respect me. But my people need to see me embracing your culture to respect your people as allies rather than enemies. I might be returning home, but I’ll still be a princess of the elves. Your Elspetha Shynafir.”

  Farrendel lifted a hand and gently cradled her chin, tracing his thumb over her cheek. “Are you sure? I do not wish for you to feel out of place in your own home.”

  Was it possible to melt from the inside out? Essie leaned into Farrendel. “Of course I’m sure. This will be tough but don’t worry. My family will love you. My brothers might take a while to come around, but my sister-in-law and mother will love you right away. You’ll see.”

  Farrendel wrapped his free arm around her in an awkward, unpracticed way. Not only were they still figuring out how to be a married couple, but elves weren’t the hugging type.

  The more touchy-feely, hugging family culture in Escarland was going to be a shock, that was for sure.

  Farrendel stepped back first. “I will do my best. As you did with my family.”

  “And I will stand by your side like you did with your family.” Essie rested her hand on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart.

  They shared a heart bond. Surely they could withstand this and keep their peoples from going to war with each other yet again.

  FARRENDEL SHIFTED on the moss of the train platform in Estyra, faced his family, and tried to keep his breathing steady, his expression neutral. Behind him, the train waited, sleek and silver on rails formed of tree roots stretching into the vast forest. Their bags had already been loaded, as had their horses and the gifts he had picked out for Essie’s family. All that awaited now was to say farewell to his family.

  This was a diplomatic meeting. He was not going to war. He would not end up captured and tortured. His sister Jalissa was coming along as the official ambassador. She stood next to him, serene with her hands clasped in front of her.

  More importantly, he would be with Essie. Even now, she held his hand, their first two fingers clasped with the backs of their hands pressed together tighter than was proper in public. But he did not care if his family saw and was embarrassed on his behalf. He needed the steadiness that her presence gave him at that moment. Both the grip of her hand against his, and the connection of the heart bond tugging deep in his chest.

  Even with Essie’s protection, he and Jalissa would be stepping into a kingdom that had been their enemy a mere fifteen years ago. A kingdom that had reason to imprison and torture him simply for being an elf. Her brother Averett had promised peace, but would he keep that peace when presented with two elves in his own castle?

  Well, three. Jalissa had a single female guard coming with her, more as a formality than anything. If Escarland wanted to cause trouble, one guard or ten, it would not matter.

  None of them knew what to expect. While the human kingdoms seemingly practiced sending diplomats to each other’s kingdoms all the time, it was not a Tarenhieli custom. Not even his brother, King Weylind, had left Tarenhiel except to go to war.

  A war Farrendel would be called to join the moment he returned from this trip to Escarland. Visiting Escarland might be
terrifying, but it was preferable to becoming the weapon of death to protect Tarenhiel, as was expected of him.

  After a long, tense moment where his family stared back, as if waiting for a cue to tell them it was time to say farewell, Farrendel’s niece Brina stepped forward. A smile tipped her mouth. “I am jealous. I have heard the human cities are a sight to behold.”

  Farrendel shifted and glanced at Essie. She had told him much about her home, but he could not picture it.

  Essie touched Brina’s arm. “Maybe we can take you for a visit in the future. When things are less tense. I’d love to show you Aldon.”

  As Brina moved to talk to Essie, Farrendel’s nephew Ryfon faced him. Ryfon straightened his shoulders. “I will help hold Tarenhiel until you return.”

  Farrendel barely kept himself from stumbling back at those words. He had been barely older than Ryfon when he had been captured and tortured. When his father had been killed rescuing him. He would not allow history to repeat with Weylind and Ryfon.

  He reached out and gripped Ryfon’s shoulders. “Do not join the fighting. You can help your father best by taking on duties here at Estyra.”

  Not that Farrendel thought Weylind would allow Ryfon anywhere close to the fighting. They had all learned their lesson after what had happened in the last war. No, Weylind would hold the trolls off, if they attacked in the next two weeks, and wait for Farrendel to arrive before he made any large-scale counterattack.

  This was what the battles and torture had turned Farrendel into. He was Tarenhiel’s weapon. Until he had met Essie, that was all he had thought he would ever be.

  Ryfon nodded and stepped back as Weylind’s wife, Rheva, strode forward to give a quick farewell while Weylind spoke with Jalissa.

  When Rheva moved to exchange a stiff farewell with Essie, Weylind gripped Farrendel’s shoulders. “Stay safe, shashon.”

  Farrendel swallowed back the frantic clawing in the pit of his stomach. He and Jalissa would be essentially alone in Escarland. The most vulnerable Farrendel had ever been, except for his capture by the trolls.