Not Magic Enough and Setting Boundaries - By Valerie Douglas Page 0,16

only one - first among equals.

“There’s none here that will speak of you, for her sake,” Petra said. “She could leave us. There’s a dozen households would take her for her skill with a needle alone and none fault her for going but then what would become of us?”

Her fear was clear. And her shame.

“And so she stays. For us. Whatever you can give her of joy; it’s our gift to her for staying. Poor wee girl. She should have a dozen little ones around her. And thank the gods for her, though it shames me to do it. None of us will betray you, sir.”

It was a danger to him just being here so long and Dorovan had worried about it, as much as his folk did. There were many among men who would find a solitary Elf a target for their unreasoning hate. And Delae for offering it. His people traveled carefully, keeping to the back byways where they could. Nor could Dorovan ignore the risk Delae faced in giving him shelter either.

There was more danger still in their relationship.

Even among his folk such a thing was impermissible, while to the Dwarves it was nearly anathema. Among men…?

Petra with her words offered him and his friend-of-the-heart some measure of protection. A sorely needed refuge. For both he and Delae.

Taking a breath, Petra said, “What would you for breakfast, my lord? There’s oats and then there’s oats. Perhaps an egg or two?”

With a small chuckle Dorovan said, “I think I’ll have the oats, then.”

Tiny Petra smiled. “I’ll get bowls for you both. Do you like honey my lord? We have our own bees.”

“I do,” Dorovan said.

“Then you’ll have honey with your bread.”

Her hair dusted with snow, wind-blown and wild, Delae darted in the great room doors, her feet still bare.

Shaking his head, Dorovan helped bar the door before sweeping her off her feet, cradling her in his lap as he rubbed her feet warm between his hands.

Chapter Five

Three days later the storm finally broke and the first bright burst of sunlight speared through the clouds. Within hours the slushy snow began to melt. Delae watched it with poignant acceptance as the travelers packed their belongings into their wagon. They hadn’t been unpleasant guests. It was as it had to be.

Dorovan came up, laid a hand on her shoulder. Turning her head to look at him, Delae smiled and brushed her cheek against his hand.

It was time. He could find no more excuse to stay than Forman and his people.

“When will you go?” she asked, a heaviness lying on her heart.

In the way of friends-of-the-heart Dorovan loved her in that moment more intensely and more fiercely than he had any other, first for her generosity - that she would make it easier for him to go. As he must.

They both knew he couldn’t stay, nor could she leave. There was no place for the women of men in an Elven Enclave. His people, even as open-minded as they were, would never accept her.

Nor could she or would she leave her people and responsibilities here.

“Tonight,” Dorovan said, brushing his lips over her burnished hair, his heart aching for the loneliness to come, both his and hers. He, at least, would have his people. His voice was soft. “After moonrise. After we’ve loved again.”

“I’d best go out and see them off then,” she said, brushing her lips across his knuckles.

She smiled and let out a breath.

“I’ll return,” he said.

Her throat tight, Delae nodded.

He watched her go, a woman of infinite grace in both body and spirit.

Looking at her, he knew her own people wouldn’t call her beautiful, there was too much strength in her face for that, but she had too much spirit for any other name. Too much strength and too much heart. Honor and courage, too…

He would call her beautiful. His people would. For she was beautiful in spirit. Dorovan saw only that.

In the sunlight her hair glowed like fire, her simple clothes a covering and nothing more to the loveliness of her body.

Delae smiled up at pretty Yana in the seat beside Pell. Behind them, his head bandaged, was Forman.

“Journey safely,” Delae said, her hand on the side of the wagon.

“I’ll send payment to you - Lady Delae - for our time here,” Forman promised.

She patted his hand. “As you can, Forman. It was only my duty to those who cross my lands or by them, as you know.”

“I do,” he said, “but you did more and for that