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Grace’s brow furrowed as she looked at her book. She was slowly getting better at reading—both Elvish and common—but she still needed to learn so many words. She frowned as she traced the letters again with her finger, her back leaning against the beautiful bark of one of the Alabaster trees. After a moment she gave up in her frustration.
“Yneari,” she asked, the slight turn of a frown in her voice. “ What does ‘Man anírol athen, Bangathab’ mean?”
Yneari Malfin lay on the grass beside her. He had been amusing himself by playing with the tendrils of Grace’s hair that fell to her waist. With his chin resting on his hand, he reminded her very much of a cat at the moment, lazily enjoying itself in an afternoon sunbeam.
“It means you’re beautiful.” He said, his eyes full of mischief as he looked up at her.
Grace’s gaze shifted to him, the furrow in her brow remaining. “I’m fairly certain it does not.”
“It means you’re stunning then.” Yneari continued, twirling one of her locks lightly around his finger.
“If I went up to King Emerys then—no, he would agree with you just to tease me. If I went up to Lady Alastryn, she would tell me the same?” Grace asked, turning the book sideways and holding it up higher, as if the change in angle would jog her memory or impart some further wisdom. The chapter she was on was supposed to be about elvish bartering.
Yneari grinned. “Well…if it was Alastryn, she’d probably tell you it meant ‘what do you want for it, shall we trade?’ ”
Yep. Not anywhere close to “stunning,” Grace thought. She glanced down the rest of the page and tried to continue, but Yneari’s fingers were insistent with how they toyed with her hair, and between the gentle brushes of his fingers against her arm and the wisps of hair tickling her skin, she was thoroughly distracted.
Grace sighed and closed the book, her eyes drifting to her husband, when he shifted from playing with her hair to running his fingers lightly over the fabric of her dress…over her lower leg, being thoroughly distracting.
“Yneari Malfin.” She chided him, though she knew her attempt to look stern was utterly failing. She could feel the corners of her lips tugging into a traitorous grin.
“Yes, my beloved wife?” Yneari grinned, pleased that he had her full attention. Pleased was too small a word, actually. He was practically beaming with his success.
“You are a child.” She told him. “Jearithe was right. I would have gotten more help from the elflings than you when it came to my studies.”
“It was an honest mistake, love.” Yneari practically purred as he sat up to kiss her. “You have to understand, I’m still just so thrilled to hear your voice. Everything sounds stunning from your lips, and you are undeniably beautiful. How could I think of anything else?”
He kissed her thoroughly and for a moment, Grace could almost swear she felt his magic brush her soul. A cool shiver thrilled along her spine, and she had to remind herself to breathe.
As his lips shifted from hers, to her cheek, and then her neck, her face flushed. “General Malfin.” She tried to be stern again, since at least one of them had to keep a head about themselves. “What would your soldiers say if they saw you like this?” She scolded him again, though her heart wasn’t really in it.
“They would say nothing.” He told her, letting his lips linger over the skin of her neck as he drifted toward her shoulder. “They would be smart enough to turn around and walk away, or they’d find themselves on stall duty for a month.”
“Yneari!” she gasped, then giggled as he kissed her again and pulled her down with him. The pair rolled on the grass briefly before he rested atop her, looking down at her like the most unstudious elfling ever. Grace, neatly pinned beneath him, looked for where her book had fallen from her grasp a few feet away. She tried, and mostly failed, to give him a disapproving look.
“No more tutoring sessions in the woods.” She told him from where she lay on the soft grass. “You cannot be trusted to maintain your decorum, sir.”
“Leave is meant for play, Gracie.” He responded back, flashing a smile at her. His hand reached down to brush aside a stray lock of hair from her face. Grace inhaled deeply and then let out a breath, relenting that their study session had come to a close. There was little redirecting Yneari when he was in this playful a state.
As she stared up at her exceptionally handsome elven husband, she begrudgingly admitted to herself that she also didn’t really mind. She made a mental note to work on not being so easily manipulated by his beautiful face and beautiful eyes or beautiful voice.
When he kissed her again she knew that goal was nearly impossible.
“Shall we go for a walk then?” she asked when her mind returned to her. “The woods are beautiful today. I found a stream not far from here last week. I wondered if we could build a sitting area nearby. Somewhere we could enjoy the sound of the water from time to time.”
True, there was little redirecting Yneari when he got an idea in his head, but gifting Grace with anything, or showing off his knowledge of the woods to her, was one sure way to do it. He grinned excitedly and almost immediately stood, helping her to her feet.
“Let’s go see then.” He told her as she brushed her skirts back into place. “If there is somewhere nearby, I will show you. If not, we can discuss what you envision.”
“Nothing grand, Yneari. ” Grace warned. “ A small bench would do.”
She knew she would have to rein him in whatever they decided. He might build a whole pavilion for her if she wasn’t careful, and then spell it with whatever his devious brain could come up with.
“I still have much of the gold left over from the King’s thank you-“ she reminded him, but Yneari was already holding her hand, fingers interlaced with hers and walking her through the woods.
She frowned at him. “How do you know where to go if I’m the one who knows the stream?” she challenged, following along behind , then beside him.
He grinned and looked to her. “There are only so many streams that make noise audible to human ears not far from here. I thought I might have an idea.” He cheekily smiled at her.
She shook her head, eyes lifted toward the heavens as she ruminated on the cleverness of her husband. Some day she would surprise him, and not about ‘human culture’ related things.
They walked along together in companionable quiet. The choruses of the songbirds were beautiful, and the sunlight dappling through the leaves was almost hypnotizing. Their pace slowed as they relaxed into the soothing atmosphere. Grace rested her head on Yneari’s shoulder, enjoying his scent of woods and leather and soap. She closed her eyes, trusting him to guide her safely forward through the woods, and sighed happily.
She heard the tenderness in his voice when he spoke to her.
“Le i velethron e-guil nîn, My Gracie.” Yneari said softly, his hand still holding hers. (1)
“I love you too, Yneari.” She replied. “Ni melathog n’uir? ” she asked, though she knew the answer. (2)
Yneari smiled and kissed the top of her head. “Always.”