It had given them the chance to learn more of each other’s quirks. 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. Only reason she was even staying in her husband’s rooms was to more conveniently wake him from his nightmares. Between her nightmares and Farrendel’s, neither of them had managed to sleep much in the nights since. 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. If she hadn’t woken him, then he’d already been awake dealing with the aftermath of his own nightmares. “Just tired.” Essie swiped her hair from her face, staring up at the ceiling, visible in the pre-dawn gray. 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. He rolled into a cross-legged position on his side of the bed. “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. She rolled onto her back, blinking up at him. Just another nightmare.Ī hand shook her shoulder, gently, pulling her all the way awake. She struggled to drag herself from the images of dead bodies and blood and battle.
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