“That’s the thing about books.

They let you travel without moving your feet.”

- Jhumpa Lahiri

The thing about sleeping outdoors was, the moment the sun was up, so was everyone. I might have convinced myself for a lie in if it hadn’t been for all the morning people getting up. Despite their low tones, I couldn’t help but hear them. I rolled over and peered out from the safety of my cocoon. Alana was brushing her long hair, braiding it fast and flicking it over her shoulders, exposing her ears.

So elves and humans could get along in Ilanard.

Alana’s heritage was proof of that.

And despite being in the company of savage humans, I hadn’t been assaulted, insulted or abandoned.

I clambered out of the bedroll and tried to mimic what the others were doing to pack up my bed.

“I’ll handle this.” Asher offered. “Why don’t you go grab the other one?”

I had forgotten it and hurried to the place where I’d left it. It was still on the ground, untouched with a couple of leaves on it. I sighed and picked it up.

“Bethany…” I lifted my head and saw Faelan standing a few feet away. “Are you well?”

“I’m fine.”

I had intended on trying to talk to him today, to not bite his head off again or slap him. But the disregarded blanket had reignited my anger.

“Were you treated with respect?”

“Yes.” I said between my gritted teeth.

“Do you intend to go with them?”

I met his gaze. “What other option do I have?”

Faelan’s expression remained impassive. “You could come with me. I will take you to the ruins of Xephis directly.”

“What happens if and when we bump into an elf patrol? Will you admit you’re looking after me or will you look the other way and leave me to be dumped on the side of the river again?”

Faelan’s mouth remained straight but his eyebrows did become a little oblique.

“I would ensure we were not caught.”

“Because you’re ashamed of me?”

“No.”

“No?”

“Yes…”

“Excuse me?” I snapped.

“It is…complicated.”

“Not for them it’s not,” I pointed back towards the campsite beneath the overhang, “in fact some elves love humans. I’m sure you heard with your elf hearing that Alana and Emer are descendants of one such elf.”

Faelan turned his face. “Dissidents of the Iffah elves…”

It was hard not to slap him again. “Well,” I managed to grind out though my jaw was tight from clenching, “I shan’t take up anymore of your time with my…contemptable humanity.”

I walked away.

“You are not like them.”

“How can you possibly make that judgement when you don’t know them at all?” I demanded and continued to walk to the overhang.

Asher led the young hunters and myself through the forest, the pony dragging the sledge behind it. It had skis on its base which allowed it to skim over bumps and small rocks. Micael kept up a lively commentary with ironic wit that had everyone laughing. Despite my initial wariness of him, I began to see that he wasn’t so bad and he was certainly well liked. At one point Alana and Emer clambered up a couple of trees with elvish agility and began to throw apples down. I didn’t want to ask for one in case I was ignored out of spite. I had nothing to base that on except I was the new kid and I’d experienced that overwhelming sensation before when I’d switched schools, going from a country town school to a private school.

I heard a whistle and looked up, Micael tossing me an apple.

“They’re the last of the season. It’d be a shame to miss out when they’re at their sweetest.”

“They’re not that sweet.” I laughed.

“Might as well pick several bushels while we’re here.” Asher announced. Alana and Emer got to work plucking the apples from the thinnest of branches, tossing them down to whoever was ready to catch them. I joined in and found myself really enjoying the activity. We turned one of the bedrolls into an apple bag and strapped it onto the sledge before moving on.

“I’m guessing apple pie is on the menu tonight?” I asked Micael as he was walking close by.

“If any of them make it into a pie I’ll be surprised.” He grinned. “We’ll probably roast them over a bonfire and burn our fingers as we try to eat them.”

“Good times.”

“You know,” he shook his head as we walked, “I can’t imagine walking up to a market…and just…buying meat.” He looked at me. “Is there much there?”

“Shelves and shelves of it.” I nodded.

Micael whistled. “We have to pack our meat in salt or consume it quickly or it’ll spoil. Does your world really have enough people in it for shelves and shelves of meat?”

“They’re refrigerated.”

“They’re what?”

“Um…the shelves are really, really cold…so the meat doesn’t go bad.”

“Do you live in the snow?”

“No.”

“Then how do the shelves stay cold?”

“I…it’s complicated.”

Micael sighed. “It must be a wondrous place, your world.”

“It has it’s good points,” I shook my head as we crossed a ridge and I got a glimpse of the valley below, “but there are few views that compare to this.”

The mountains where the ruins existed and the deep valleys where the elves of Iffah lived spilled out onto a rich, autumn hued plain with rivers, clusters of trees and the remainder of the hills rolling into the distance where, at the very edge of my vision, I could see another mountain range. The trees were capped with purple, yellow, brown and red leaves and a breeze blew a cluster of them across my vision, whipping through the air as though they were a banner being twirled at the Olympics.

“Bethany,” Asher called and I left Micael’s side and jogged to the older man who was pointing to a plume of smoke, “Elvan is not far now. You can see the hearths of home burning bright.”

I glanced over my shoulder at the mountains behind us. “We seem to be getting further and further away from where I need to go.” I murmured.

“I apologise for that but you will discover that this is the best way to get there. After all,” he grinned, “you’ll need a guide.”

“Oh good…I love an obscure hint at an imminent introduction.” I muttered.

Getting down the ridge proved to be slightly precarious and I slid and skidded with the others. All except Alana and Emer who managed to stay upright even when perched on, what I could only describe as two degrees from being a cliff face.

“Here,” Alana offered her hand and helped me reach flat ground, “the path curves now so it’ll be easier to manage.”

“I’m gonna have blisters…” I moaned, my feet smarting from the punishment they were receiving.

“Can I ask…”

“About my world?” I looked at Alana.

“Well…not exactly…what happened to your hair?”

“This?” I pointed to my pixie cut. Alana nodded. “I took a picture into a hairdresser and said, make my hair look like this.” I realised as I was saying this that I was in a world where long hair was the norm. “I guess that sounds like the worst thing imaginable…”

“I was just thinking how convenient it is.” Alana sighed. “No brushing, no braiding…no mess in the morning. I feel the touch of sun on my face and the call of a new day…but can do nothing until I’ve made my hair presentable.”

“I thought elves had pristine appearances?”

She snorted. “I’m only part elf. The pristine appearance part didn’t pass down to me…or the colour.”

“Well…short hair is very practical,” I nodded, “but it has to be said, it gets a lot of criticism.”

“From who?”

“My ex-boyfriend protested the idea every time I brought it up.” I shuddered. “Then I broke up with him and promptly cut it off. Maybe I was just trying to cut him out of my life…but it was so good to have the weight off my shoulders…”

“In more ways than one?”

“Exactly.”

Alana walked alongside me. I appreciated the company. Even though most of the hunters didn’t possess elvish blood, they were more surefooted than I and despite rest stops, I always found myself falling behind.

“Boyfriend…is that a name for the male partner in a courtship?”

“I suppose you could say that.”

“But you abandoned it?”

“He wasn’t a nice guy…in the end.”

Alana nodded. “So…are you courting the elf?”

“Faelan?” I exclaimed. “No! Not at all.” She gave me a saucy wink.

“Micael will be happy to hear that. I’ve never seen him so chatty.”

“We talked about meat on cold shelves. I can’t say it’s a great chat up topic.”

Alana walked in silence for a while. “So why is the elf following us?”

I glanced over my shoulder. “He isn’t.”

“He is.”

“Alana, do you need your eyes checked?”

She giggled. “Look past the bramble, on the left side of the path.” I tried but couldn’t see a thing. “A little higher,” she nudged my face with her fingers, causing my eyes to rise, “now, look into the shadows…and see that soft flicker of sunlight?”

“Oh!” I breathed. Faelan’s countenance and his gold hair was caught ever so briefly in the sunshine before he shifted and disappeared into the shadows.

“He’s not been twenty paces behind us all day.”

“Might as well be twenty leagues…” I muttered.

“We’re coming up on Elvan,” Alana pointed at the road that was becoming well travelled and established by much foot traffic, “I am not sure if he will enter the village.”

“Ugh…fine.”

I let Alana walk on ahead and leaned against a tree. After a minute I looked up to see Faelan much closer and able to be seen even with my human vision.

“We should probably talk.” I said.

“Will you listen without becoming violent?”

“Hey, you deserved that slap.” I felt myself fire up.

“I am well aware of that.”

My anger cooled and we walked along the path.

“I don’t get it, Faelan,” I said softly, “you’re a really kind person and you’ve healed me three…four times? I forget…” We continued to stride in silence, my mind trying to figure out where to start from. “Are you…happy at ‘House of Figs’?”

“Why would I not be?”

“Oh I don’t know,” I blurted, “let’s look at the company you keep. There’s me and Aunt Jo, flawed and contemptible humans,” I held my hand up to him, “don’t argue,” he clamped his mouth shut, “and in addition to us, there are the ordinary every day humans you serve and are in close contact with…and then to cap it all off, there’s a water dragon…emphasis on dragon, a robot built by humans to serve humans who looks human, a werewolf that you take umbrage with on a daily basis and a vampire!” I shrugged. “Am I missing something? Do you feel obligated?”

“No.”

“Trapped?”

“No.”

“Compelled?” When he didn’t answer I peeked at his face. His millpond expression was conflicted. “What made you come? Why did you stay?”

“Those are two separate questions.”

“Feel free to answer them separately.”

Faelan swallowed. “After the death of my mother…I became restless. I had always held fast to the beliefs of my family, of the elves…but I found myself searching for something I could not name or even understand. I wandered the forest endlessly, crossing the mountains, climbing higher and higher…until I discovered the ruins.”

“You didn’t know they were there?”

“I did but they were beyond the borders of Iffah. I…my first act of defiance to my father’s statutes was to cross the border and enter the ruins…where I found the door.” Faelan lifted his head. “Carved into the door was the trunk of a tree. I thought it was a sign for me to enter and I opened the door. I found myself in the Observatory and was drawn out by the scent of plants. I acquainted myself with all the flowers and bushes, finally meeting the grand fig tree and resting in its embrace. And then I saw Jo.”

“A human.”

He nodded. “She was…talking to the plants, speaking as she watered them…with much more tenderness and care than I had heard humans were capable of. I thought she would crush them or ignore them. Yet she tended their needs in the same, kind way, that the elves do.”

“I suppose that really confused you.”

“It did.” Faelan admitted. “I returned to my world, knowing I had contaminated myself with being so close but had I endured the cleansing, questions would have been asked why.”

“Oh…so you would have had to have admitted you were near a human.”

Faelan sighed softly. “After a few days…I returned to the door and watched Jo again…for weeks I was an observer, fascinated by her methods and her kindness.”

“I still can’t imagine how you broke cover…”

“She hurt herself.”

I gaped. “How?”

“She was atop a ladder…and she fell.” Faelan shook his head. “I…I did not think. I was by her side instantly. She had broken bones and a concussion…I healed her but it was more than I was accustomed to…and I fell unconscious.”

“What happened next?” I urged when he was silent for too long.

“When I woke, I found I was being both tended and guarded by Rob. He explained the nature of the Observatory.”

“So…Rob was first through the doors and you were second?”

“Yes, I believe so.”

“Go on.”

Leaves dusted the ground, creating a blanket of gold, red and purple. The colours reminded me strongly of the beautiful table decoration still in my room that I’d been given by the couple that had eloped.

“I could not return home injured without having to explain how it happened…so I stayed at ‘House of Figs’ until I recovered. Jo was very kind and attentive but also mindful of my…reluctance to interact.”

“She’d read your book?”

“Yes.” Faelan shook his head. “It was her respectfulness of my beliefs that…won me over. She never challenged me or asked me to be different. If I left and never returned, then she would understand…but she also offered me a place to come if ever I needed it.”

I put my hands into my pockets. “And you did?”

“Very much.”

“Why?”

“I do not know,” Faelan admitted, “there was something about…watching Jo bake and measure and cook that…fascinated me. I wanted so much to create as she did. It was something different to anything else I had ever done and could ever do in this world.”

I thought about everything he’d said as we approached a bridge that herald the entrance to Elvan.

“I’m glad you found a place where your restlessness subsided,” I admitted then looked at him, “but what I don’t understand is why, when I stood before your father…you acted so cold?” Faelan’s eyes flinched. “I mean, I get it if you had to act like you didn’t know me…but the way you were…I have to admit, I’m not sure if I can trust you after that.”

Faelan closed his eyes. “I would ask your forgiveness if I felt I deserved it.”

“Isn’t that the point of forgiveness?” I asked quietly and he looked up at me, his pale green eyes on the edge of burning with intensity. He opened his mouth…

“Bethany!”

“Blast…” I groaned and turned my head to see Asher coming towards us.

“I have someone for you to meet.”

“Okay,” I glanced at Faelan who had closed his mouth and stepped back, “don’t go. Come on. Stay with me. Please.”

I could tell he was reluctant but I could spare him no more time to beg. Asher gestured for someone to join him and I stepped up onto the bridge to greet them.

“Bethany,” Asher turned to the woman approaching us with long, white blonde hair, “I’d like you to meet my wife, Bronwyn. Bronwyn, this is…”

“Faelan?” The woman’s green eyes were a match for Faelan’s, all the way down to the shocked and somewhat dismayed expression in them. She stared at him, her hand resting over her heart, the leaves falling a little slower and the world beyond the bridge, softening as the air between us sharpened. She was dressed in a long sleeved, cream underdress with a dark green sleeveless gown over the top. Her slender waist was strapped with a belt, upon which were fastened several pouches. Her hair was drawn up into several braids that wove into strands down the length of her pale hair.

I looked between Faelan and Bronwyn, my heart constricting.

“You are dead.” Faelan said softly.

“Yes…I assumed as much.” Bronwyn nodded. “How are you?” She flinched and shook her head. “Sorry, that was foolish question.”

“You are…his wife?”

His tone was hollow, devoid of emotion yet I knew so much of what Faelan experienced was beneath the surface. I could only imagine the chaos inside his heart.

Bronwyn swallowed. “I am…”

“You left me…you left Iffah…my father…for this?” Faelan gestured to the background of Elvan that he didn’t look at.

“Faelan…I would have told you but I was cast out and warned never to return.”

“For him?” Faelan said, a quiver of derision across his lips as he jerked his head towards Asher.

“No, Faelan,” Bronwyn stepped towards him but he recoiled from her and she stopped, “it was not his fault. It was mine.” Her fingers wrung together and she reached out timidly. “It is so good to see you again…I have so much to tell…you…”

Faelan stepped backwards several steps, shaking his head. Bronwyn’s face creased with pain.

“My love…Faelan has not left Iffah…he is protecting this young woman.”

“Oh…” Bronwyn tore her eyes off Faelan and looked at me for the first time. “Wait…if Faelan is escorting a human we do not know…you must be Bethany St James.”

“I am.”

“I know your aunt, Johanne. She used to visit often. We would talk for hours.”

“I’m afraid I’m new to all of this…door opening, other worlds, thing…” I stammered. “When I came through the door, it was night and I fell and got lost and then Faelan…” I turned and saw that he had disappeared. “He…not again…”

“It has nothing to do with you,” Bronwyn assured me sadly, “it is my fault.” She looked at Asher.

“I messed this up a bit, didn’t I?” He asked, cringing.

“A bit,” she nodded then touched his rough chin, “it is a good thing you are handsome.”

“Forgive me, my love.”

“Always.” She smiled. “In a way, I am glad. He knows the truth now.” Bronwyn turned to me. “Please, excuse our small family melodrama. Come into Elvan and allow me to answer the many questions you must have.”

I crossed over the bridge, onto cobbled stones that had been laid into the earth, creating a single main path that led through the village of stone buildings, thatched rooves and a warm, bright atmosphere.

“I know you must be tired. Our home is not far.”

The village of Elvan was nestled between two rivers and I spied a waterwheel churning from the rushing flow. Asher and Bronwyn’s house faced the main thoroughfare but there was an extensive garden to the side.

“I’m going to leave you in Bronwyn’s care and check on the bear meat in the smokehouse.” Asher told me.

I nodded and entered the house with Bronwyn. She collected some bowls from the table and dunked them in the sink.

“I apologise. I was not expecting guests.”

“You were not expecting Faelan, you mean.” I observed. Bronwyn sighed and hung her head. “Are you really his mother?”

“I am.”

There didn’t seem all that much difference in age between them but I had to remind myself that Bronwyn was an elf and as such, they tended to be ageless. It was any wonder that they could have been siblings for all my human eyes could detect.

“Here,” she poured me a drink, “it is lemon water. Refreshing after a long hike.”

“Can I pour it on my feet?” I asked and she laughed softly. “I’m guessing I dropped a pretty big family bomb, bringing Faelan here.”

“You could say that but it is hardly your fault.”

“Why did he think you were dead?”

“You have been in the company of elves and humans for nearly a day according to Asher,” Bronwyn remarked pointedly, “surely you must know something of the…dissention between the two races.”

“I get that elves don’t like humans and humans, in turn, think elves are pretty full of themselves.” I nodded. “But even if you decided to leave Iffah and live with humans…why would Faelan be told you were dead?”

“To prevent him from seeking me out, beyond the borders of Iffah.”

“Oh.” I paused. “Don’t you think you ought to tell him that?”

Bronwyn’s eyes flittered up and around. “He knows now.”

“He’s in the garden?”

“Or somewhere else close by.”

“You can sense it?”

“No,” she sat down at the table, “because I know my son…he would not have suffered the company of Ilanard humans if he was not concerned for your safety.” She cleared her throat. “Enough of my convoluted family drama. What has happened to Jo?”

“Why do you think something happened to her?” I asked, curiously.

“I noticed a change in her demeanour the last two times she visited,” Bronwyn admitted, “she seemed…preoccupied with something that sapped her joy. When her visits stopped without explanation, I became convinced some terrible malady had befallen her.”

I sipped the lemon water and felt its cool touch all the way to my toes.

“She’s in a coma.” I announced as gently as I could. “Before it happened, she sent me the key to ‘House of Figs’ and I arrived in Glenwilde to discover she was in hospital. When I started looking after the café…I discovered the Observatory and Aunt Jo’s…friends.”

“It must have come as quite the shock to have fantasy and fictional characters invade your world.” Bronwyn laughed softly.

“I wasn’t sure how much you knew about it.” I admitted.

“Jo and I got along very well,” Bronwyn smiled, “I think she appreciated having someone to confide in rather than single any one of the guys out from the rest as her confidante.”

“Tell me about it,” I muttered, “I only have to spend an extra thirty seconds in any one of their companies and suddenly, we’re betrothed.” Then I shrugged. “All in all, it’s not so bad but it was a steep learning curve.” I tilted my head, reminding myself of Rob’s mannerisms. “How did you come to meet Aunt Jo?”

“She knew of Elvan and I believe she wanted to visit.”

“Faelan wouldn’t take her.”

“She did not ask.” Bronwyn confided. “I think, upon since reading the book we seem to exist within the pages of, Jo did not want to put undue pressure on Faelan by asking him to cross the borders of Iffah.”

“Even though he was already doing so daily?” I shook my head. “That’s what I don’t get. It’s not as if our world is any more…clean than the humans here.”

“It has very little to do with morality and ethics.”

I leaned on the table, my eyes locking with Bronwyn’s. “Then can you explain it to me? Faelan seems to suffer a physical constriction on the subject and your husband was mute, saying he had prejudices about what he thought about the elves. Given that you’re his wife, I thought he’d have the best insight.”

“Ah, but not as insightful as, say, the former elf queen of Iffah.” Bronwyn said without ceremony. “My husband is not particularly good at relaying details. Can you tell me what happened up until Asher found you?”

I relayed by tumultuous experience with Bronwyn paying close attention.

“I see,” she said when I finished, “that is a rather…rough introduction to our world…but it also paints a very vivid picture of the way things are.” She pressed her fingers together and closed her eyes. “In Ilanard,” she began, “elves were the first creatures to walk the earth. They were pure, eternal and wise. Then came the humans and compared to the elves, they were clumsy, wild and made poor choices based on instinct. The elves separated themselves for a time from the humans and when their paths crossed again, the humans had developed their ways, changed their thinking and learned from their mistakes. Some elves were charmed by this and took human wives or husbands…but their children displayed less than stellar elven traits.”

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“Contamination.” I breathed and felt Bronwyn’s question before she spoke. “It came up in conversation once.”

“That is how the elves described the pollution of their bloodline. Unfortunately, the humans were very good at propagating while the elves saw their descendants diminish in number. For every one elf that was born, fifty human children entered the world. There was a high council where the kings of the different elven tribes gathered together. It was decided that the elves would separate themselves completely from humans for while elves and humans could produce progeny, it was clear that the elvish traits would not continue.”

“So the council made sure that only elves could breed with elves?”

“That was the start of the separation,” Bronwyn scraped her nails across a groove in the tabletop, “however, it was not long before the ‘guidelines’ turned into rules and then the rules became a type of religion…”

“To the point where the elves are xenophobic?”

“And undergo cleansing rituals to demonstrate their resolve.” Bronwyn nodded. “To my knowledge, Cadeyrn is the last surviving king of that original high council. When he dies, an era dies with him.”

“So,” I frowned, “he’s taken the decision by the high council to its most extreme…by making humans out to be savages?”

“What better way to dissuade the elves of Iffah than by painting humans as violent, instinctual, savage predators?” Bronwyn shrugged, flicking her hair over her shoulder. “It is possible that since my defection, his xenophobia increased to outright hatred. In that case, I apologise for your treatment as I am sure I am partly to blame.”

I blew out of my mouth and tapped my teeth together. “Well…seeing as you were his wife and you’re now someone else’s wife…”

Bronwyn opened her mouth when I heard ‘Mama!’ declared and a young boy practically flew into the room. He leapt onto Bronwyn’s lap, his blonde hair wild and his eyes, as bright as Asher’s with the same golden flecks. In his hand he brandished a leather wallet.

“Mama, I caught two fish today!”

“Let me see your bounty!” Bronwyn immediately went into ‘mother’ mode as her son put the wallet on the table and unrolled it, displaying the tiny fish. “My word, what a feast!”

“I caught them with my net!”

“I can see that,” Bronwyn laughed, looking at his trousers, “you are so wet!” He giggled in delight then spied me and his face fell.

“Mama…”

“Elrond, this is Bethany, Aunt Jo’s niece.”

The boy shuffled on his feet.

“Hi…” He said shyly.

“Elrond, your father is at the smokehouse. Go say hello.”

“Yay!” The blonde haired boy bolted away.

I looked at Bronwyn. “Elrond?”

“Your aunt shared her love of books. ‘The Hobbit’ was the first I read. I adored the name and begged Asher to name our son, Elrond.” Bronwyn started. “Oh! I have a book to return to you. It was the last one she loaned to me.” She stood up and went to a chest in the sitting room. It was strange to see an elf being so domestic. I had always imagined them to be ethereal, floating hither and yon, never really touching the world and so, not really being a part of it. Bronwyn had to remove a wooden toy sword and a crocheted blanket before she could even get into the chest. That kind of clutter seemed out of place, especially in the home of an elf.

I pursed my lips. “So, your son…he’s…at least six years old?”

“Actually, he is only just five but possesses some elf blood which has advanced his development. I was sure I put it in here…” She stood up and went to the mantlepiece and picked across the scattering of oddments there.

“Aunt Jo has been coming here that long?”

“From what I understand it, time runs differently here than in your world although it is not nearly as extreme as it is in others.”

“Oh yeah, I keep forgetting.” I shook my head. “Just when I think I know what I’m doing…” Bronwyn stood up and put her hands on her hips, looking around in frustration. “I’m sure Aunt Jo won’t mind you keeping a book. She loved being able to give friends the gift of stories.”

“I know but I put something inside…oh! I remember. I had it in the bedroom to keep Elrond from losing it…” She ducked into a back room and came out, brandishing a hefty novel. “There it is.”

“You read ‘Dune’?” I looked at her. “That’s not for the faint of heart.”

“Oh I loved it and all its political complexities contrasting with the prophecies and the rise of Paul on Arakis…” Bronwyn paused. “But I think you will find the bookmark particularly interesting.”

I let the book fall open naturally, the bookmark keeping the pages slightly apart. I took the slip of paper out.

“The folly of man. The pride…the fall…then nothing. Bones groan in despair. Two of five.” I looked up sharply. “This is it! This is the haiku I came here to find!”

“Your aunt entrusted me with that on her last visit.” Bronwyn nodded.

I gazed at the piece of paper. “I don’t suppose you have any idea what it means?”

“I wish I did.” Bronwyn admitted. “Jo never said but I could tell it was important. She knew you would come for it.”

I felt the weight of responsibility on my shoulders like I was carrying the corpse of the bear Faelan had killed.

“It’s kind of scary…having someone believe in you so much. What if I’m not…enough?”

I sensed Bronwyn tilting her head, trying to catch my gaze.

“You made it this far, have you not?”

I shrugged. “I guess.” I pocketed the haiku securely and looked at Bronwyn. “I need to get home.”

“I understand.” Bronwyn nodded. “The journey will take the best part of two days and there is only one safe place to camp for the night on the ascent. I fear you will have to spend the night in Elvan but tomorrow, I will lead you to the ruins of Xephis myself.”

“I suppose if I were an elf, I could run there in a single evening.” I said softly. “Like you could?”

Bronwyn gave a soft laugh. “I am not quite the elf I once was…and do not allow the attitude of Iffah to degrade your value.”

“Am I interrupting?” Asher entered with Elrond in his arms. “All good?”

“All good.”

“You leave tomorrow?”

Bronwyn nodded. Elrond gave a whimper. “Mama…”

“I will be back before you know it.” She ruffled his hair.

“As long as you’re careful,” Asher warned, “and stay away from the borders of Iffah.”

“I promise,” Bronwyn smiled, “besides, it will do me good to stretch my legs.”

“Papa,” Elrond hissed, “tell Mama about the party.”

“Oh,” Asher snapped his fingers, “while some of the bear meat will be salted for winter, it has been decided that the bulk of it should be roasted on a spit at tonight’s bonfire.”

“Can I stay up for the storyteller? Please?” Elrond begged.

“If you can stay awake for it.” Asher tickled his son who laughed and dashed away. He saw Bronwyn’s scathing look. “What? I said ‘if’…he’ll be asleep before the first bell.”

“You hope.” Bronwyn turned to me. “Now, you have had a pretty exhausting time. Would you like to visit the bathhouse and change into something clean for the party?”

“Um…bathhouse?”

Thankfully, it wasn’t a co-ed bathhouse. I was able to have a decent soak in a tub so large I could paddle across it and the steam blocked any of the young women who came and went. Not that they even paid me much attention. In the change room, Bronwyn laid out a dress for me which I guessed was from her own wardrobe. It was made of a cornflower blue fabric, soft from use with elbow length bell sleeves and the neckline just clipped my shoulders. The skirt had three layers of fabric, the first being cornflower, the second was a darker blue in the same hue but it didn’t come all the way around the front, allowing a long triangle of lighter blue to show and then the final layer was navy and this was only at the back and sides. An under bust bodice was provided which Bronwyn laced neatly into place and she handed me a pair of slip on shoes.

“There,” she smiled, “it would be hard to tell you apart from any of the original human residents Ilanard.”

“You mean apart from the…” I pointed at my hair.

“While I had never considered cutting my hair, you certainly make the short style look attractive.”

The bonfire was built close to the edge of the far river, several wide stone steps leading down to it. The pleasant churn of the waterwheel was constant and the crackling of the fire added to the atmosphere. When Bronwyn, Elrond and myself arrived, the party was already in full swing and it seemed as though the inhabitants of the entire village were in attendance. I marvelled at the life exhibited, the laughter and merriment that reminded me of hobbit parties and dwarf feasts. I couldn’t imagine the elves of Iffah being so joyful. It did help that there were barrels of cider and plenty of food to go around. And then the musicians began to play.

I sat on the step and laughed and watched as the humans, with a vague sprinkling of elf blood throughout, partied in the cooling air, dancing without care.

For the most part I was left alone although I did wave to Alana from across the bonfire. She was no longer dressed as a hunter, pretty in a rustic gown of burnt red, her brown hair braided around her crown.

“My lady,” Micael approached me with a grin, two roasted apples on the ends of metal forks in his hand, “you look very fine tonight.”

“You don’t scrub up so bad yourself.” I remarked and he chuckled. He did look good, all traces of the bloody hunt gone and his angular black hair giving him a mysterious and attractive air. “You certainly know how to party here.”

“A good hunt ought to be celebrated.” He handed me a fork which I took and we sat and nibbled on the scalding roasting apples.

“These are quite good roasted.” I admitted, enjoying the crunch and the flavour. “Even without ice cream.”

“What is ice cream?”

I waved my hand. “Too hard to explain…”

Micael paused, daylight gone so the light glancing across his countenance was from the flames that crackled merrily.

“If I visit your world…will you show me?”

“I don’t know Micael,” I admitted, “it’s not exactly an exchange program.”

“Am I too roguish for you?”

“No,” I laughed, “but I can think of a werewolf who might take offense at your presence.”

Micael leaned back on his elbows. “I reckon it’d be worth it.”

“All for ice cream?”

“Nah, that was just an excuse to be with you.”

I had built up quite a thick skin with Bastian over the past six weeks.

“Why don’t you find yourself a nice resident of Ilanard to flirt with and stop pestering the immigrant?”

Micael laughed and stood up. “Is it still considered pestering if I asked the immigrant to dance?”

“Like I know how.”

“Have you had anything to drink?”

“A little water, that’s all.”

“Then you can hardly do worse than those who are drunk on their feet.” Micael held out his hands. “Come on, I promise to be a gentleman. Heaven forbid I should go to kiss you, be mistaken for attempting to eat you and get an arrow through the eye.”

I had to laugh and took his hands. “Fine but one dance, that’s all.”

To say I was uncoordinated was an understatement but Micael was a pretty good teacher and by the end of the melody, we had found our feet in the vigorous jig. I was laughing so hard my ribs hurt and Micael, though his interest was clear, had been as he promised, a perfect gentleman.

“You want something to drink?”

“Just water.”

We retreated to the stairs as a slower song began.

“Where the wind will take us.”

“Sorry?”

“It is what the melody is called.” Micael gestured to the couples who were dancing to the music. “It’s about how two leaves are blown about by the wind yet, even though they suffer the bluster, they are still together and rest in each other’s embrace at the end.”

“I sense a chart topper.” I mused.

“A what?”

“Nothing.” My eyes lit upon Bronwyn and Asher dancing together. Like all the other hunters, Asher’s appearance was clean and smart. I suspected he was one of those men who became more and more handsome with age. Bronwyn was in his arms and there was no mistaking the love in their eyes. Asher’s arms were strong and Bronwyn moved with his motion with confidence. He whispered into her ear and she whispered back tenderly. I turned away, blushing even as my heart yearned to know what was said. As my eyes shifted from the brightness of the bonfire to the shadows near the waterwheel, I suddenly saw a flash of pale gold and an expression that cut me to the core.

It was gone instantly but I was left unsettled by it.

“I need a little quiet.” I told Micael.

“Call if you need anything.”

I nodded and picked up my skirts as I climbed the stairs then walked up the cobbled path, past the waterwheel to where the second bridge was. I crossed over and found myself in a small clearing. From the far side I could see the party on the riverbank, the bonfire glowing bright, causing the shadows to darken to black, soaking up the colour of night. A light spray of the waterwheel blurred the edges, giving the party a mystical and almost distant appeal. It would have taken me less than three minutes to return to the party but the way the clearing was separated from it, it felt like another world.

That was probably why he was hiding here.

“Faelan?” I looked around, unable to see the elf. “Are you here?”

He didn’t answer for a moment, making me doubt myself.

“I am here.” He edged into the light but only just.

I reminded myself of the tension he must be feeling, between being an elf and fraternising with humans.

“You could…join us. No one would tell your father.”

“How will I face him?”

“You’ve never had problems with being at ‘House of Figs’ and then speaking with him. What’s the difference?”

“The difference is her,” Faelan jerked his head and I knew what he had been gazing at, his mother in the arms of another man, “and him.”

I let out a long, defeated breath. “I don’t have any answers for you, Faelan. You need to talk to her.”

“I cannot.” He flinched. “I was told she had died. I mourned her. I was lost without her.”

I could only imagine what it would be like if my mother returned from the dead after the torment of watching her fight her cancer battle

in vain. “Now to find her happy, married…with a son…” His pale hair shifted as he shook his head. “Humans…corruptive…destructive…”

“Hey!”

“Not you,” he pointed at the party, “them!”

I looked over to where Bronwyn and Asher were still dancing. There was no mistaking the love in their eyes, even from this secluded distance.

“Call me crazy,” I said tightly, “but it takes two to tango.”

“What is a tango?”

“It’s a dance.” I growled. “It takes two! Not just Asher…your mother.”

“She would never have danced if not for him.”

“You don’t know that!” I exclaimed. “Why don’t you ask her?” Faelan turned his face from me and I felt the urge to slap him again. I folded my arms to keep from doing so. “Or are you afraid she’ll tell you some home truths about the elves of Iffah?” He trembled ever so slightly and I paused, reminding myself that within twenty four hours, his concept of the world he existed in had come crashing down. “It’s…your mother, Faelan…back from the dead.”

“And if your mother appeared after ten years of mourning?” Faelan looked at me. “Tell me you would be so eager to talk to her.”

“Okay, so it would hurt like hell.” I admitted. “But…standing in the shadows, glaring at humans dancing…what are you hoping to accomplish?”

“I was watching over you!”

“Faelan, I was perfectly safe over there.”

He shook his head. “You were dancing.”

I gaped at him. “You’re angry at me…for dancing?”

“Not you, him!”

I looked at the party, unable to see the debauchery Faelan was clearly observing. It looked like fun. I couldn’t understand how we could be standing side by side, watching the same scene and coming to completely opposite points of view. The music had changed from the slow melody to an upbeat tune again and the dancing had changed to be boisterous and energetic in order to keep up. It was joyful.

“Faelan,” I said, trying to calm my voice, “the greatest grief a girl can receive is being a wallflower when she desperately wants to be asked to dance. I’ve been there,” I remembered the school dance, not long after I’d first transferred to the private school in the city where I was unknown and lost, “it’s the worst feeling in the world. Micael asked me, politely and behaved like a perfect gentleman. Surely your elf eyes must have told you that.” Faelan said nothing, his jaw tight and I wondered if anything I was saying was getting through to him. “I would have said yes to you, if you’d asked me to dance.”

Woah, where did that statement come from?

I held my breath, keeping any other such impulsive statements from blurting out even as I wished I could suck the last one back in.

“I would never ask you to dance.”

His words deflated me, piercing me through. Even more so was the way he said it, not looking at me…as though to do so was beneath him.

I went to make a hasty exit, wondering what the hell I was thinking in trying to reach an elf who clearly had prejudices against humans. Even if I was from a different world, I was still human.

I reached the edge of the clearing, heading towards the bridge when he spoke again.

“Because I do not know how to dance.”

I paused and looked back at him. He hadn’t moved.

“You don’t know how?”

“No. I would make an inadequate partner.”

So…he was speaking out of his own insecurities? I couldn’t keep up with this elf. I had thought him to be a millpond, calm and restful but underneath, a storm seemed to be raging.

“Weren’t you watching?” I edged closer again. “I didn’t know how. Micael had to show me.”

“You made many mistakes,” Faelan said and I could hardly deny it, “yet you seemed…happy.”

“I was. Are you seriously telling me you have never, ever danced?”

“Never.”

“Don’t elves have parties?”

“We have feasts and celebrations…but we do not dance.”

I was wrestling between anger and compassion for him. It was a confusing combination. I wanted to slap him out of his reverie but decided, instead, to reach out and take his hand. Faelan looked at me in astonishment. Out of all the guys at ‘House of Figs’, only one other kept their distance more from me than Faelan. Taking his hand, however impulsively, must have been a great shock to the elf.

“Come on,” I offered, “let me show you.”

Faelan looked down at our locked hands.

“I,” he drew back but did not pull his hand from my grasp, “do not…”

“Are you telling me you weren’t paying attention when I danced with Micael?” He said nothing as I approached and took his other hand. It was like cornering a deer. One wrong move and he’d flee. “You’re an elf, Faelan…you know the steps.”

“That is a far cry from actually dancing.”

“Not as far as you’re making out.” I insisted. “Now we step in like this and around each other like that.”

Despite my recent tutelage by Micael, it really was a case of the blind leading the blind. Every time I trod on his foot I thought he’d pull away but he stayed. When he stepped forward as I did and we bumped into each other, I thought he’d toss up his hands and admit defeat. But I think the challenge had sparked elven stubbornness for he kept at it until we reached the turning portion where Micael had always taken my hands with confidence and experience so that the spin was performed accurately despite my ignorance.

However, neither Faelan and I were experienced nor confident…and we managed to get tangled up.

“No, your left arm is meant to go behind me and your right arm arches over…” I stepped back. “Hrm…how did we get it so wrong?”

“Perhaps it is the way we hold hands?”

“Maybe. Let’s try the lead up to it again cause we know that bit.”

We tried again and this time ended up facing away from each other. Faelan growled.

“It should not be this difficult!”

I bit on my lip to keep from laughing. “Why don’t we move on?”

“No, I can do this.” He grasped my hands and drew me into the dance. “Now if you…when we…”

I tripped over his foot cause I was spinning the wrong way and stumbled to the edge of the clearing.

“Bethany, forgive me, I…” He stopped when I snorted and then erupted into laughter. I couldn’t hold it in anymore. We were hopeless! So much for a romantic, picturesque and perfectly choreographed dance in the woods. It was a disaster. “You find this amusing?”

“It’s hysterical!” I wiped at the tears. “We’re hysterical!” His expression fell and I grabbed his hand before he could storm off. “Again!”

“Have you not had enough humiliation?”

“Who’s watching? Bastian? Rafael? Anybody?” I looked around. “Come on Faelan, are you really going to let a simple human dance beat the son of King Cadeyrn of Iffah?”

Faelan’s green eyes fixed on mine. “You are goading me on.”

I leaned towards him. “And what are you going to do about it?”

He stepped forward. “If I was wise, I would walk away.”

I paused and he held his ground. “Why aren’t you leaving?” I teased.

He took my hands and drew me even closer. “I suppose I am not as wise as I thought I was.”

We tried the turn again and again, over and over, forgetting about the music in the background in our pursuit of getting the move right making the rest of the world disappear. And then, suddenly we got the hand positions right and, after making the turn, our hands switched so that the opposite was behind my back and above my head. A thrill ran through me and I looked up, ready to exclaim victory with Faelan at our success…

…but the look in his eyes snatched the air from my lungs…and filled them with heat.

My heart, which was pounding from exertion began to beat even faster.

How was this happening?

This was Faelan, for crying out loud!

An elf!

His eyes arrested me, our bodies close together in the turn as we spun around in a circle. Then he shifted his arms, twirling me in his grasp and we were back where we started, turning in the opposite direction. We continued to do so for several turns when our movement grew slower and slower…and then we stopped…staring at each other.

I was so close I could see the thin rims of dark green around his pale eyes, his pupils deepening and his light eyelashes framing them. I couldn’t look away. I didn’t know what to do. I just…waited…holding my breath.

And then he let go of my hands, cupped my face and kissed me.

It wasn’t a slow thing. Perhaps he had made a conscious decision, or perhaps he had broken through the last veil of restraint and planted his lips on mine…one moment he was staring at me like a man trying to decide if it was better to starve or eat forbidden fruit…the next he was kissing me.

It was so sudden I barely had time to process what was happening.

And in the split second it took for me to begin to respond, Faelan had already pulled back…

…with despair in his eyes.

He opened his mouth to speak, turned and vanished into the night.

I was left, standing in the clearing, wondering what the hell had happened.

I pressed my hands to my cheeks, feeling how hot they had become.

“Just from exertion…that’s believable…isn’t it?”

I returned to the party and sat, deliberately, near the back. When I was offered a mug of cider I grasped it and downed the pint, hoping to wash away the hammering of my heart and the rush of blood in my veins.

“Go easy on the cider,” Alana sat next to me with little Elrond asleep in her arms, “or Bronwyn will have to carry you up the mountain.”

“Oh…is it that strong?”

“One pint, sleep well. Two pints, sleep for a day. Three pints…sleep forever.”

“Seriously?”

Alana laughed. “No!”

“Phew!” I sagged and glanced at Elrond. “I guess he didn’t stay awake to hear the storyteller.”

“I should put him to bed,” Bronwyn approached us and held out her arms so that Alana could deposit her son into them, “and go to sleep myself.”

“It just occurred to me…I don’t know where I’m sleeping.” I blurted.

“You’ll stay with us, of course.” Bronwyn assured me.

“Ah, my love,” Asher approached, “where will she sleep?”

“Elrond can sleep in our bed and she can sleep in his room.”

“Now I’m just being an inconvenience.” I moaned.

“And there is no door between our room and his.” Asher remarked.

“How is that important?” Bronwyn demanded.

“Well…” He chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. “I have been gone for three nights, tracking that bear…and you’ll be gone for two tomorrow…”

The heat that had only just started to dissipate from Faelan’s kiss flushed anew at Asher’s insinuation.

“Asher!” Bronwyn looked at him and he shrugged helplessly.

“I…I’ve missed you, that’s all.”

“Oh just let me die.” I moaned.

“Why doesn’t Bethany stay at my house?” Alana offered, standing up. “There’s a spare bed in my room, I’ll make sure she’s outfitted for the mountain climb and…I could maybe come along?”

“You want to climb the mountain?”

“I want to see the ruins.” Alana looked at Bronwyn. “May I?”

“I would feel more comfortable about you descending the mountain in company than on your own.”

“Oh for goodness sake, I am an elf!” Bronwyn sighed then looked at Alana. “But of course, you may join us, and your brother too if he wishes.”

“Thank you.” Alana glanced at me. “I’ll take you back to my place. You’ll need your rest for mountain climbing.”

“Agreed.” My eyes darted towards Bronwyn and Asher briefly. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Sleep well, Bethany.”

Alana and I walked away from the party.

“Won’t you miss out on the storyteller?” I asked quietly.

“I’ve heard them all before.” Alana shrugged. “I don’t live far away, just up this road.”

We walked up it, entering a house that was a single story but was up a rise so that it had a view of the valley from several of its windows. Alana lit a lantern and gold light filled the house.

“Um…should we have asked your parents about this?”

“They died when Emer and I were eight.” Alana said lightly.

“I’m so sorry.” I looked around. “You’ve lived here on your own since you were eight?”

“Olwyn, our great grandmother, cared for us until she passed away in her sleep when we were sixteen. Emer and I could look after ourselves by then with Bronwyn and Asher keeping an eye on us. My room is in here.”

There were two beds in the decent sized room. Alana found me a nightgown to wear and I changed into it and climbed into bed.

“Thanks for this,” I said as she did the same, setting the lantern on the table between the beds, “I got the impression Asher wanted Bronwyn all to himself tonight.”

Alana snorted. “He might as well have said, I want to make passionate love to my wife tonight, for all his subtly.”

“He does seem to love her very much.”

“It goes both ways. I mean, Bronwyn is a little more reserved…but I’ve seen her look at Asher like a man in a desert looks at spring of water.” Alana giggled, pulling the pins out of her hair so that the brown braids hung loose. “I remember, not long after they were married, I was in the wheat fields, collecting loose grain that fell, when Bronwyn came by with cold drinks for the workers. She gave Asher a look…” Alana fanned her face. “And the next thing I knew she’d taken his hand and drawn him towards the woods. With child-like innocence I followed and in their euphoria, they didn’t notice me. Olwyn found me before I saw anything more than just kissing and tapped my nose and said, let lovers love and let children play, and marched me back to the wheat fields.”

I rolled onto my back, wishing my chest didn’t feel so tight after Faelan had planted a kiss on me.

“I didn’t think elves could be so…passionate.” I said quietly.

“I don’t think most are. I think they’ve denied their desires and passions for so long, they’ve forgotten what it must feel like.” Alana propped herself up on her elbow. “But it wasn’t always that way. The storyteller has a tale or two about the passion of elves.”

“Really?” I twisted towards her.

“I don’t have the storyteller’s talent but I’ll give it a go.” Alana cleared her throat. “Once, there was a mountain range between two forests and in the forests were two tribes of elves, one of women and the other, of men. Back then, elves were not as…peaceful as they would have you believe. If ever members of the tribe came across each other on the mountain range, a fierce battle would ensue over which tribe was the greatest.”

“They had a war…over gender?”

“Yep.” Alana laughed. “Finally a warrior from one tribe, a woman, and a warrior from another, a man obviously, decided to end the conflict in a single, mighty duel.” Alana laughed. “If the story can be believed, they fought across seasons, battling each other, equally matched in skill and stubbornness. Finally, atop the highest mountain of the range, the female warrior, exhausted from months of battle, slipped at the edge of a cliff and was about to fall to her death. The man warrior grasped her hand, pulled her into his embrace…and the aggression suddenly turned into love.”

I watched Alana as she told the story, her eyes sparkling as she spoke.

“Their union was so…passionate…that it caused the mountain to crumble and the range to cave in until the barrier between the two tribes was gone.”

“That’s a little hard to believe.” I murmured.

“Of course it’s been embellished over the years.” Alana admitted. “But even if it’s all a metaphor…at one time, elves were at war with each other, their hostility as great and as insurmountable as a mountain range…but the love between two of them caused the barrier to fall and for them to become peacemakers.”

I rolled back onto my back. “I think the first version is better.”

“It definitely has a spicy kick to it.” Alana giggled. “I think Bronwyn has rediscovered some of that passion with Asher. I don’t know much about her life in Iffah. She hasn’t said but I guess it was pretty dry and flavourless.” She yawned. “Well…get a good night’s sleep.”

“You too.” I yawned and closed my eyes…

…and Faelan’s face immediately appeared before me.

What was that about?

The cider relaxed me, the mattress embraced me and the eight hours of sleep I got revived me. I wasn’t quite as sprightly as Alana in the morning but I put that down to the elf blood and not my inherent laziness. Bronwyn had been around before we were up and left my clothes, cleaned and neatly folded in a pile, on the table. I dressed, a little disappointed I wouldn’t be wearing something similar to Alana but figured it was for the best. I reassured myself that the haiku I’d been searching for was still within the pages of the book Aunt Jo had loaned to Bronwyn. I left it there as a book was harder to lose than a scrap of paper.

“Here,” Alana handed me a satchel, “you’ll need to carry your own bedroll and supplies.”

“Thanks.” With our clothing and camping gear sorted, Alana led me to Bronwyn and Asher’s house. She was out the front with Asher speaking to her in soft tones, gently caressing her cheek. My heart ached.

“Good morning you two,” Asher called, indicating we could come closer as we were unwilling to encroach on the personal moment, “no Emer?”

“He’s not interested in the ruins,” Alana looked around, “but he did say Micael was curious.”

“He can come if he can keep up.” Bronwyn had changed from charming old world housewife into clothing that looked like Alana’s outfit. She wore trousers and boots, a tunic with a leather tooled vest and had braided her hair into a single, long strand.

“I’ll do my best.” Micael promised, sauntering over, dressed for mountain climbing.

“Are you ready?” Bronwyn asked me and I nodded. She turned to Asher and before he could speak she put her finger to his lips. “I will be careful, I swear.”

“I know,” he leaned in and pressed his forehead to hers, their breath mingling between them, “come home safe to me, my love.”

“Always.” She smiled, kissed him lightly then turned to us. “Right, let us depart.”

I waved to Asher, shouldered my satchel and followed Bronwyn out of the village the same way we had entered. But we turned off the main road almost immediately, following a path that was clearly not as well travelled.

“We are making for a failed outpost settlement about a quarter of the way up the mountain we need to climb.” Bronwyn explained. “The ruins are not that far above but the incline is steep and you are not used to it.”

“I remember.” I said, rubbing my elbow. “I should have asked this before but…I’m not going to have to scale cliffs…am I?”

“No, there is a path.” Bronwyn looked at me. “How else would Jo reach the outpost?”

“Is that where you two met up?”

“It saved her from having to attempt the entire journey on her own and meant I was not away from my family as often.” Bronwyn explained. “Sometimes she would simply leave a book in the one building that still remains of the outpost and other times I would leave one for her to take back.”

“You two shared a love of literature then?”

“Very much.” Bronwyn nodded. “I had read everything the elves had ever written, most of it just the histories and genealogies of the tribes…very dry.”

“Downright dull.”

“Indeed. Your aunt offered me insight into her world through the stories told…and I was enraptured.”

We walked through the forest and I could hear Alana and Micael laughing and talking ahead, their young and experienced bodies outclassing mine and Bronwyn was polite and stayed with me.

“So…does anyone know?”

“Know what?”

I opened my mouth then remembered that Alana had sharp hearing. I stopped, not wanting to break confidence. Bronwyn glanced at me then looked at the other two.

“Fancy fish for dinner? Run ahead to the river and catch us some.”

“We don’t have rods.” Micael protested.

“I could catch more with my bare hands than you with a rod.” Alana winked and bolted.

Micael roared and ran after her. Bronwyn looked at me and laughed.

“Do you really want fish?”

“I would prefer something other than bread and cheese.” She admitted. “What did you want to ask?”

“If you’re Faelan’s…” I mouthed the word ‘mother’, still afraid I would be heard. “Does that mean you’re also Cybel’s and Urien’s?”

“Yes. I was wed to Cadeyrn six hundred and forty three years ago.”

“Wow…” I tilted my head. “How old is he?”

“Cadeyrn?”

“Faelan.”

“Just over two hundred years.”

I shook my head. “You guys don’t age!” I sighed then paused. “Hang on…if you don’t age…”

“We retain our youthfulness within the borders of our land.” Bronwyn explained, understanding my query before I’d even formed it. “Since leaving, I have aged a little and will continue to do so.”

“Wait…if being in Iffah keeps you young then…” I looked around for Faelan but could see no sign of him. “What will happen to Faelan?”

“Do I look much older than Faelan?”

“Well…no. There’s no way I’d ever think you were his…” I still couldn’t bring myself to say it.

“When I left, I looked like his peer, not his mother.” She said softly. “But I have lines at the corners of my eyes and my body is not quite as…slender as it once was. However, these changes have taken ten years of being away from Iffah to occur. Faelan is in no danger in spending time at ‘House of Figs’.”

I stuck my hands in my pockets and walked alongside her. “How can he do it?” I asked quietly. “How can he stand to be at ‘House of Figs’? How am I, a human from my world, so different from humans from this world?”

“You are not.”

“Then I don’t get it.”

Bronwyn took a deep breath and breathed out slowly. “To understand Faelan, first you must understand the nature of his father and brothers. Think of it like a Victorian family with three sons. The first is always the one who inherits the title, land and fortune of his father. The second enters the military to garner much acclaim in battle. The third often enters the service of the church, becoming a clergyman or something similar.”

“How do you know…Aunt Jo?”

“She loaned me the complete works of Jane Austen.” Bronwyn laughed.

“Okay, so that explains Cybel, who would inherit the throne in the event of Cadeyrn’s death…and it makes sense that Urien is in charge of the scouts, patrolling the borders…like a captain of the guard. But Faelan and the church?”

“The one thing more important to the elves than anything else…is their commitment to the separation between themselves and the corruptive influences of the humans of Ilanard.”

“You mean, the xenophobia that has become…a religion?”

“It would never be admitted to,” Bronwyn nodded, “but yes.”

“How is that even possible?”

“A religion based upon exclusion.”

“I don’t understand…”

Bronwyn thought for a while and all I could hear was the soft crumbling sound of leaves crushing beneath our feet.

“If you were an elf and you believed your tribe had to avoid humans in order to retain their pure bloodline…how would you do it?”

I thought about it and then I thought about how my parents had made me avoid certain behaviours and roads of thought.

“I guess…I’d tell my elves…how destructive and dangerous humans were.” I shrugged.

“How so? What is it that they do that is so dangerous?”

“Um…they’re cannibals?”

Bronwyn leaned towards me. “Did you witness any cannibalism last night?”

“They way you and Asher kissed…” I slapped my hand over my mouth. Bronwyn laughed.

“That is fair,” she admitted, “but if you take the party last night as an example…and perhaps exaggerated its influence…”

“Oh,” I gasped, “so…there was drinking which would lead to unruly behaviour…and dancing, especially close couple dancing which could lead to all manner of…activities…and storytelling which is essentially exaggerated lying of a vague truth.”

“Well done.” Bronwyn nodded. “Now, in complete honesty, there are some very unpleasant humans and Elvan has had to…discipline some of its members who had prejudices and attitudes that were corrosive to the community atmosphere. Some of them chose to heed and others chose to leave.”

“You can’t judge a people by the actions of a few.” I nodded. “But how did the elves create a religion of exclusion just by the way humans act?”

“Well,” Bronwyn brushed a branch of amber leaves aside and allowed me to pass underneath as we took a turn around a boulder, the slope of the mountain we were to climb coming into view, “if you take last night for an example, if humans drink like we do…what should elves do?”

“Abstain?” Bronwyn nodded. “And storytelling would be restricted to factual accounts and historical ledgers…” She nodded again. “And if dancing leads to closeness and closeness to passion…” Of that I was well aware. “That’s why elves don’t know how to dance…”

“How did you know that?”

I gulped. “Faelan told me.” I said, willing myself not to blush.

“You saw him?” I nodded. “Last night?” I nodded again. “How was he?”

A thrill ran through my body as I recalled his eyes, his hands…his lips.

“A bit…conflicted.” I said honestly, remembering the horror in his expression right before he disappeared. I felt Bronwyn’s eyes on me and gulped. “He’s confused about the whole, you’ve been dead for ten years, thing…and if I’m honest, he’s hurt too.”

Bronwyn sighed and lowered her head. “I would love so much to be able to speak with him…but I fear everything I said would simply sound like…an excuse. I mean, how do you tell your son that your parents are not the perfect beings they are made out to be…that we make foolish choices sometimes…even ones out of desperation…”

A tear trickled down her cheek. If Faelan was an example of a calm façade covering chaos, I suspected he learned the discipline from his mother.

“He’s not a child.” I said suddenly. “I know elves live for thousands of years…but Faelan’s over two hundred. He has to grow up sometime.”

I heard a twig snap and spun around, expecting to see him behind us but there was no one to be seen. Bronwyn and I continued to walk and I let her have a few minutes to regain her composure.

“So Cadeyrn needed to discourage his elves from being attracted to the lifestyle of humans,” I said quietly as I gathered my thoughts, “and he did that by saying, humans drink and dance and tell stories and sleep around…and so, by that logic, he removed those things from elf culture…”

“Very well done.” Bronwyn confirmed my train of thought. “Perhaps the exclusion was not as bad before ten years ago but after my desertion…”

“He lashed out and the stranglehold of ‘you shall not’ tightened.”

“Exactly.” We paused in our chat for Bronwyn to point out a beehive. I stood back and watched as she eased close to it, the bees buzzing around her head, calm and almost attracted to her, as she removed a chunk of honeycomb. She stepped back and the bees returned to their hive. Bronwyn handed a piece of the honeycomb to me. “It will revive you.”

It was, without a doubt, the best honey I’d ever eaten and unlike the stuff in jars, I didn’t feel ill after gorging myself on it. It was light, sweet and really did revive my aching legs.

“I wonder if Aunt Jo ever thought about having bees at ‘House of Figs’.” I mused then shook my head. “Too many issues with allergies.” I licked my fingers as I stared at the trail in front of us. “Okay, back to my original question…if Faelan, as the third son, would enter the priesthood…then spending time with humans would be like a monk having an affair with a village girl or something.” I gulped. “Not that he’s done anything like that at all!”

“The seriousness of liaison is comparable to how Cadeyrn would view Faelan’s fraternisation.”

I thought back to the horrible moment in the throne room of Iffah when Faelan had dismissed me without kindness or consideration.

“He’s expected to…set the example of righteousness?”

“Self-righteousness.” Bronwyn corrected. “Faelan’s behaviour must be above reproach.”

“Then how can he justify ‘House of Figs’?” I demanded. “It’s crawling with humans, not to mention a few non humans that would probably be just as bad, if not worse.”

“You mean the vampire and the werewolf?”

“And a dragon.”

“I would dearly love to meet them sometime.” Bronwyn laughed. “Well, I can only share my opinion as it is Faelan would know the truth about his motives…but I would say that he, like me, was searching for something…more.”

I recalled what Faelan had said just before I had met Bronwyn.

“He said…he was restless after your death.” I spoke softly. “He traversed the mountains, the valleys…unable to stop…”

“Oh my son…” Bronwyn put her hand over her heart. “Of my children born of Cadeyrn, Faelan is the one who resembles me the most…how I wish I could have spared him my torment.”

I looked around, wishing, hoping that Faelan would hear his mother’s lament.

“If you found contentment with the humans of this world,” I glanced at her, “then maybe Faelan found it at ‘House of Figs’.”

“Jo told me he bakes and makes sweet desserts.” Bronwyn sighed and shook her head with a happy smile. “He has the freedom to be creative there.”

“Oh…because the Iffah elves wouldn’t condone it?”

“Creativity requires passion.”

“I see,” I nodded, “and I suppose, because we’re not Ilanard humans…it’s a, when in Rome, do as the Romans do.”

“A loophole, perhaps?”

“Yeah, allowing him to be able to pursue illicit creativity, an outlet for his passion.” I slapped my forehead. “No wonder he was so bummed when his pavlova failed.”

“Do not tell me he was angry with himself?”

“Only a lot. He was striving for perfection…”

“Then he has allowed the expectations of his father permeate the one place he could be free.” Bronwyn wrung her hands together. “If only I could cut the bonds and let my little bird fly.”

“Little bird?”

“Faelan means ‘freedom in flight’ in the highborn tongue of Iffah. I found myself calling him my little bird when he was young.”

My heart sank as I thought of Faelan and all the pressure he was under.

“I don’t think he’s bound. I think his wings have been clipped.” I whispered.