Fires of War (War and Deceit #4) - Erin O'Kane Page 0,5
earlier, nerves turning my stomach into knots. Noticing this, Vaeril reaches out and catches my hands in his, raising one silver brow as he stills my anxious movements. He’s the master of stillness, all of the elves are, never wasting energy on pointless gestures. Looking up at him, I can’t help but smile at his expression, take a deep, steadying breath, and nod my head. I’m ready. Looking around the tent again, I pretend I’m only just noticing we’re down one elf.
“Where’s Eldrin?” My tone is deceptively light, and from Naril’s snort, I know he sees right through me, but it’s Vaeril whom I watch. His expression doesn’t change, but his mind has gone still on the other end of the bond, and I know he’s trying to keep something from me.
“He needed to get some fresh air, he’ll be back soon,” he replies, and from the corner of my eye, I see Naril shaking his head.
We’re in the mountains, how much more fresh air does he need? I practically scream in my head, but I need to put those thoughts aside. Today isn’t about him. If he can’t be here to support me, then he isn’t the friend I thought he was. Friend. That word has never felt right when describing my relationship with Eldrin, but right now, that’s the closest term we have.
Vaeril squeezes my hands slightly, pulling my attention to his face, which is set in a slight frown. How he doesn’t have permanent wrinkles from all his scowling, I don’t know. The benefits of fae genes, I guess.
“We’ll see you after the ceremony.” He scans my face as if checking that I’ll be okay without him. Taking a step forward, he closes the gap between us so our bodies are touching. He rests his forehead against mine, uncaring that there are others in the room. “I love you, mate.” A shudder runs through me, the word still giving me a thrill whenever I hear it. I swear there’s an awkward cough and the sound of shuffling feet in the tent, but I’m absorbed in my mate—his smell, his taste, and the feel of him in my mind. Before we had completed our bond, I had no idea it was possible to feel this close to someone. A part of me throbs where I’m missing my other mate, Grayson, my mage, but his love strengthens me, even from afar.
“I love you too,” I whisper, feeling everyone’s eyes on me. Not that I care what Naril thinks, and Tor knows all about my relationship with Vaeril, but I’m nervous about what the tribespeople think. I know my relationship status is hardly conventional, and considering the tribespeople banished my mother for having me out of wedlock, I don’t know how they will take me being bonded to both Tor and Vaeril, that’s without even mentioning Grayson.
Kissing me one last time, Vaeril releases me and runs his eyes over my outfit again with a heated look on his face before turning away and striding from the tent. Is it suddenly really warm in here? Pulling at the collar of my cloak, I fan myself to cool down, flushing red at Vida’s amused smirk.
Naril saunters over and squeezes my shoulder in a show of support, making my jaw drop in surprise. I was expecting some snarky comment, not a supportive gesture. This is completely unlike—
“Try not to fall over,” he tells me with a grin. There’s the elf I know. I’m sure my expression tells him exactly what I think of his comment, my nerves making me jittery. Realising I’m not in the right mind frame for jokes, the smug mien falls from his face to be replaced by an uncharacteristically sober expression. “Clarissa.” His voice is firm, and it snaps my eyes up to his. “You’ll be fine,” he assures me, raising both eyebrows as he waits for me to agree. At my quick, jerky nod, his superior grin is back in place as he spins on his heel and stalks from the tent.
“Your elves are very strange,” Vida comments, staring at the exit as if she expects them to come striding back through. I don’t bother to argue, after all, she’s right. Pulling her gaze away from the egress, she walks over to Tor and grips his shoulder, grinning widely. He returns the gesture while I watch. It’s obvious they are close, but I don’t feel any jealousy. While there is noticeable affection in her gaze, she doesn’t look