Page 21 of Boundless
"C-clearly," Len interrupted, keeping his finger tapping.I'm so sorry, Dae,he thought. "Butd-dokeep in mind we-we're in in polite s-s-society."
She tapped her finger ever so slightly to her lip again, then dropped her hands in her lap and turned her eyes onto her plate.
Len also returned to his meal, feeling sick and wishing he could just leave now. But his father caught his eye and nodded in sharp approval. And of course he would approve—how many times had he said those very words to Len when he was a boy? Even before his mother had died and sharpened his father to a lethal point, he’d been short-tempered and intolerant of a great deal of Len’s behaviors and mannerisms. He hated his stammer, of course, and how frail and sickly Len had become after his heart condition had become apparent. But Haedelon also loathed his softness, his kindness, calling him a fool, a weakling. He warned Len all the time to staunch his bleeding heart and grow a spine, breaking him down to his smallest bits in the process. But no matter what Len did he couldn’t do it, could harden himself, couldn’t ignore his emotions, couldn’t make himself stronger or tougher.
All he could do, it seemed, was disappoint his father.
A soft tap at the side of his leg drew his attention down, and he smiled when he saw it was the tip of Daega’s tail flicking gently at him. He put his trembling hands in his lap, schooling his expression into one of bored disdain, then inched his right hand over to grab her tail tip and hold it. He took a deep breath, stroking his thumb over her soft skin, and let his awareness sink into the strong, beautiful woman at his side. Daega wasn’t disappointed in him. She found his kindness and quiet thoughtfulness attractive. She didn’t think he needed to get stronger or tougher; she considered him strong already.
He loosed his breath slowly, giving the tip of her tail a squeeze before letting it go and resuming his meal, thinking of how easy it would be to fall in love with his wife.
DAEGA
KING HAEDELONand all the rest of these stuffy aristocratic elves were rank cunts, but Daega was finding some amusement, at least, in the subterfuge her and her husband had cooked up. Her and Len would have gobs of fun coming up with a whole secret language they could speak while convincing everyone else they hated each other. It reminded her of some of the games she’d played in her girlhood. Though the stakes for someone cracking their code, she had to admit, were much higher now.
The irony of the situation struck her yet again, that they should find themselves in a political marriage and have to pretend hatred instead of affection. She was still coming up empty on reasons why anyone would want to see war again, but then she’d never been much good at thinking through things. If she couldn’t tackle it head on then she hadn’t thought it worth her time. She regretted not building that skill up more, but luckily Len seemed more than capable of that side of things.
Though Daega was not so clueless that she couldn’t honestly say that she was growing more suspicious of the elf king by the hour. It was just a feeling, but every time she came into contact with that slippery little bastard he was acting high-and-mighty while also acting like a child; the surest sign of trouble there was, in her opinion. She was confident something nasty was coming, even if she didn’t know what, and she only hoped she would be strong enough to protect her loved ones when it came.
She was dismayed to see Len had hardly made progress on his meal; no wonder he was so slim, if this was how he always ate. She'd have to come up with a signal for "eat more" next. She could appreciate that he likely didn't have an appetite, but with his health being what it was he needed his strength. There was a brew that Granny sometimes made folk who got sick that helped boost appetite; perhaps her mother or Sercha might know what it was so she could get someone to make it for Len.
Once she'd cleaned her plate she turned to her husband, doing her best to look meek and contrite. "I think I'd like to go spend some time talking with my family. If it pleases you, Husband."
He shrugged, looking bored as he sipped his wine. "D-do what you w-will. Just don't be d-disruptive." His hand came up and tapped below his ear again under the pretext of scratching it. She touched the middle of her bottom lip as well, looking at him shyly from under her lashes.
"My thanks, Lenlethael." She rose and strode over to the table her family had been seated at—separate from the elves despite there still being room at the high table—and took a seat next to her mother.
"Is the game still afoot?" her mother asked in Draka after kissing her cheek in greeting.
Daega nodded, angling her body so the king wouldn't see her grin.
"Aye, we're thick as thieves and still hopelessly sweet on each other, not to worry. I think King Prick might be believing it, which is a relief. It's hard work pretending I hate that sweet little thing, so at least it's paying off, aye?"
Her mother chuckled, rolling her eyes. "I cannot make sense of these elves. If me and your father were not so weary of war we'd've nullified the treaty months ago."
"Oh, aye, there's something about that elf that makes you want to go to war, alright," her father chimed in, his arm around his wife's shoulders. "He's lucky we're so patient, aye, love?"
Gayeh smiled, kissing Daega's father softly like she so often did. "Aye, my heart." Daega's own heart clenched, her breath stilling for a moment as she realized that she could imagine her and her own husband like that, now. Her parents' love had been open and true for nearly thirty-five years, beginning long before Daega was born. And now, despite everything creeping up out of the muck to try and topple her, she had a real chance at the same thing for herself. With a wee little elf prince.
That reminded her of part of why she’d come over. "Say, Mum, I was wondering—you know that drink Granny brews when she has a patient who won't eat? Do you know what's in that?"
Her mother shook her head, arching an eyebrow in curiosity. "And why would you be needing that, Daega?"
She shrugged. "My princeling seems to have trouble eating. I suppose I'm looking to fatten him up."
Her mother nodded. "Ah. Yes, he is a delicate creature. More so even than the other elves." She darted a look over Daega's shoulder at the prince, something softer than pity stealing over her features. "Once we get him away from this place I suspect his appetite will improve, but should it not he'll be near Granny anyway. She can make him all he needs."
Daega nodded. "Aye. I'm just impatient." Her eyes slid past her parents to Tesse, who was arguing with Sercha about something in hushed tones. "My thanks, Mum. Da. I'd like to go bother my sisters now, I think."
Her father barked a laugh, waving her away. "So formal, nugget. These elves are going to rot your brain with manners."
She laughed, getting up to clomp over to sit closer to her sisters. "And what are you sagging teats going on about?" she asked as she took a seat.
Tesse snorted, rolling her eyes. "Nothing a rube like you would find interesting."
"More philosophy?"
"Aye," Sercha responded with a grin.
