Khash had harrumphed when they first entered the cotton candy-hued hall, seeing the fusty servers gliding around the room, bearing trays laden with bite-sized delicacies. He’d glanced down with furrow between his full brows when she hadn’t responded with an elbow on her hip and a derisive snort of her own, the anticipated reaction to such a scene. Khash never expected her to be anything but what she was, and the freedom to be a smartass on main, the ability to be her uncensored self was intoxicating, but she didn’t dare display anything other than a beatific smile, desperately attempting to channel her inner Silva, keeping all traces of opinions or disagreeableness or personality, anything that might warrant the negative attention of her mother, deeply buried. Being there as herself — short, slightly overweight, unmarried and childless — was enough of a crime. Adding an Orcish boyfriend to the list of offenses was practically unforgivable.
"Oh, I can guarantee he’s doing it on purpose," she agreed as the server disappeared into the swinging kitchen doors with his still-full tray, draining her glass before stretching up to kiss her boyfriend’s broad cheek. She hated events like this. She’d always been the outcast among her elegant, glamorous relatives and peers — short when they were tall, soft and round where they were concave and willowy. She’d always been more interested in hiding behind a book than in flirting with the handsome elves at the country club, and now she was surrounded by all of them — aunts and cousins; distant relatives she saw rarely, plus the ones she’d grown up with, all crowding around with knowing smirks and curious glances.
Lurielle was sure it was common knowledge throughout the extended family that she’d had a huge falling-out with her controlling mother several years earlier, that she’d left her fiance and moved away, far from the constrictions and expectations of their Elvish culture and society. Now here she was: stuffed into a body shaper that displaced her internal organs with her huge, orcish boyfriend, attempting to keep her smile from appearing to be a grimace. She had nothing in common with the people who shared her blood, and likely never would. She hated events like this, but having him here, despite increasing the amount of attention she might have received otherwise, was a security she’d not trade for the world.
"My darling girl, let me look at you!" Her great grandmother was an adorable little peanut of an elf, having steadily shrunk since Lurielle was middle school-aged. "Beautiful, just beautiful. It's been too long since I've seen you, too long."
"I know Nana, I'm sorry it's been so long. I should've come for a visit."
Her great-grandmother waved her hand in dismissal. "Last time I checked it was a two-way street. I let myself be too busy with casino trips and bus tours, I'll have to see if there's one going to wherever it is your living now," she insisted, to Lurielle's delight.
"That would be wonderful. Nana, I have someone for you to meet. You might want to sit down, because I'm not sure if you can look up this high."
That had been over an hour ago, and Khash had thoroughly charmed her Nana, putting his plan into action. She watched, from across the room, as he sat by the wrinkled elf's side, exchanging laughter and confidences for longer than anyone else had bothered, her own mother included. The music that had been selected for the event was upbeat and swinging, without being overly loud, and she watched as several girls she'd grown up with took to the dance floor, dancing with each other until they were spinning in laughter. She watched two older elves around her grandmother's age swaying together at the side of the dance floor as they conversed cheerfully, watched several older women rotate around the floor, taking turns with one member of the party’s husband. She watched, sipping her drink, directing one of the maître d''s to her great-grandmother's table when he came around proffering his tray, knowing Khash would appreciate it. She watched, and she watched some more, and when she sipped from her second champagne flutes, Lurielle realized something was wrong.
She scanned the ballroom in all its pink finery, taking in the elves who dotted the space. Mothers and aunts and cousins and neighbors, heads of social clubs and teachers at the private Elvish schools. Young girls sitting together and old women sitting on the other side of the tables. She was able to count the number of men in attendance nearly without running out of fingers, almost all of them between her own age and her father’s age, and the implications of that eluded her until she drained her glass again.
"Well, how are you holding up, dearest?" She looked up sharply at the sound of her grandmother's voice, smiling guardedly as she pulled out a chair. Her mother had a contentious relationship with her own mother, something her therapist seemed unsurprised to hear. As a result, Lurielle had not spent an enormous amount of her childhood in her grandmother's presence. If she had, she thought that perhaps she might've had an ally . . . An ally or double adversary, which would've made her decision even easier if that had been the case. Now though, she wondered.
"I'm not one for dancing, so as long as no one tries to make me, I'm doing all right." Her grandmother asked about her job, asked about how she liked her town, traded superficial gossip about the garden center where she volunteered and what she was planning on doing with her vegetable patch that year. "Are you not going to ask me about him, Nana?"
Her grandmother smiled, chuckling. "I can see that you're happy, dearest. I don't know if I've actually ever seen you this happy. So I suppose that tells me everything I need to know about him, doesn't it? Would it make a difference what I said either way? You've already shown everyone that you have your own mind, Lurielle."
"Nana, where-where are all the men? I see husbands my age, but . . ."
"That's one of our vases to bury, isn't it? I hope you're granted a child quickly, dearest. The greatest joy is knowing you won't be alone when your husband passes on. What in the stars is your mother squawking about over there? For pity's sake . . . Lurielle, let me see what's happening, I'll be back."
The stone settled in her stomach when she realized the implication of her grandmother's words. She knew, of course, that Elvish men had a considerably shorter lifespan than their female counterparts, she'd known that all her life. Somehow though, in the past year, Lurielle had never quite considered the reality of what being with Khash would mean. She'd only thought of the troubles they might face from each of their own kind, how nice it was being in Cambric Creek, where being a mixed species couple didn't matter. She looked out at the sea of old women in the room, her grandmother and great-grandmother's contemporaries, by and large, already alone in the world. Her grandmother was two hundred and fifty, her grandmother also in her triple-digit years. The average age in the room seemed to be around one hundred and fifty, she thought, a respectable age for an elf. Positively unheard of for an orc.
She pushed up from the table, spinning towards the exit. She needed air,desperatelyneeded air, her lungs seemed unable to inflict on their own. Time ground to a halt. She could feel her blood churning in her veins, sounding like an ocean in her ears, feeling her heart beating in her mouth. Eternity was a yawning maw before her, and she wondered how she'd never noticed before. Ris had made comments about time and the way it seemed slow to her, the way superficial milestones grew more and more trivial by the week; the way weeks felt like days, the way months felt like hours. Lurielle hadn't paid it much mind at the time, but she supposed, looking back, that the past year had, in fact, flown by in a way she couldn't quite account for.
She didn't know how she overlooked such a salient fact, how the reality of what her life would look like had somehow escaped her, washed away in the delirium of happiness she felt for the last year, happier than she'd ever been in her life
Overhead, the sky was lit with stars. Burning a hundred million miles away from her, existing in a cold solitary sky. Existing alone. Existing forever. Lurielle didn't know how to explain the way her mind had simply blocked out this reality. She would have to live an entire lifetime without him. She did math all day long, and this was an easy calculation. Orcs aged like humans. He was so big, so strong, so heavy with muscle, and someday his body would wear down under all of that weight and muscle and height, and he would leave her. She understood that reality, understood the simple cycle of life and death, but he would not simply be leaving her for a handful of years to be reunited again. She would live and keep living, would live for another hundred years in this world without his smile, without his voice in her ear, and his hands at her waist. She didn't realize she had begun crying until she was choked by her tears.
As a sob wrenched free from her throat, she wondered if she would simply waste away after he was gone, suspended in a bubble of the past; if the sight of the bed they shared would be a comfort once he no longer warmed it, or if her heart would grieve anew each and every night she returned to it alone. Time stole all things, and as an elf, she had a king’s ransom of time. She would forget the petty arguments they had, the disagreements over tiny, inconsequential things. She would forget the way she’d hovered on the edges of groups her entire life, not quite fitting in. None of the minor slings and barbs she’d borne would matter one day — a sign of how little she ought to let them matter now, for time would render them all obsolete. All that would be left was his absence, an empty bed, and a hole in her heart. The stars overhead streamed and Lurielle saw her future, stretching endlessly before her. A life without his smile and his warmth, without his heavy-lidded eyes across the pillow each morning.
"What’s wrong, darlin’?"
His voice was a low purr at her ear, his breath hot at her neck. What would she do, without his heat? Without his syrupy drawl in her ear, without his voice in her head every day, to be her affirmation. What would she do without him?
"Lurielle? Did your mother say something to you?"
She would live an entire lifetime without him, which made the life they would have together so much more important. It didn't matter if people thought they were rushing, that they were talking about marriage and kids too soon, if her therapist wanted her to be able to find her own way to happiness without him. It didn't matter what the wives and girlfriends at his matches whispered about her, didn't matter what strangers thought, or his sisters, or her mother. Her weight didn't matter, her inability to style her hair on her, the fact that she hated dancing and parties and small talk. None of the things she let herself focus truly mattered all. Every day they weren’t together was another day lost, another day wasted, one less day on the shortening balance of their time together.
"I want to get married," she blurted. "I-I want to marry you, Khash. I love you s-somuch," her voice broke again and she pitched forward against him. "I want to spend the rest of our lives together." Her face crumpled at the end of her words, and he caught her, holding her tightly, shushing her gently, and she thought that he understood.
"Darlin', it's all right. What’s all this about? Hush now, it's all fine. We’re going to be fine. But donot," he emphasized, pinching her lips between his index finger and thumb, "say another word. Lurielle, Ido not careabout all those little things you spend so much time churning over. If you want to raise our kids to eat like rabbits and call them Snowdrop and Daffodil? I’m fine with it. You want me to quit the league and join your fancy lil’ club and do basket-weaving and croquet on weekends? I’ll be the best Gruvsh-damned basket weaver in your whole cupcake-lovin’ community. But if you think you’re going to takethisfrom me . . ." He trailed off, his handsome face screwing up in an adorable scowl. "I’mgoing to be the one to take you by the hand, and I’m going to build you a bride fire so big it’ll burn for a year. Donoteventhinkabout taking that from me. I don’t know what’s put this bee in your bonnet, but put all your big feelings back in that lil’ bag of yours and swallow your teeth for another day. You want to be in charge of everything else? Fine. ButI’maskingyou, and that’s that."
She was an ugly crier, knew her mother would have something nasty to say, knew she shouldn't wreck her makeup this way, but it no longer mattered. Nothing mattered but the pull of his voice, the warmth of his arms, and the heat of his kiss. His lips were warm against hers, and she breathed in his bravery, stole his steadiness, and pressed her forehead to his. His hand came up to cup the back of her head, holding her to him, and all she felt was the beat of his heart, playing her song. She was going to live a lifetime with him, and that would be the balm on her broken heart when he was gone, to sustain her for a lifetime without him.
"Yes," she whispered against his mouth, cupping his huge face in her tiny hands. "I'm going to say yes."
♥ ♥ ♥
Autumn
