“Lucine, darling,” said her grandmother, her voice gentle but sharp-edged, “a lady only takes one.”
The little elf’s hand froze midair, cheeks flushing. She mumbled an apology, lowering her gaze to her plate . . . and then the moment was gone, the conversation flowing around her humiliation as if it were a stone dropped into a pool, the ripples silent, vanishing after a moment.
“Of course, wehadhoped to have our own good news by now . . .”
The conversation had continued as she distracted herself, Silva realized, but there was no question as to which direction his mother’s words were pointed.
Silva’s eyes lowered, head bowing slightly, an acknowledgement of the barbed sentiment from his mother, but not one she would deign to address directly. She waited, silently counting to three, barely making it totwowhen Tannar’s voice interrupted the feminine din of chatter.
“Mother.”
Clipped and final. She had gotten very lucky, Silva was forced to admit to herself on a near-daily basis. This little charade would have been much harder to play out if Tannar hadn’t been so completely unobjectionable. Someone she could have fallen in love with genuinely, perhaps, in a different lifetime, one that wasn’t quite so unfair to him.Life isn’t fair, though, is it?
Her eyes rose in time to see his mother’s feigned expression of innocence. One of the other mothers pulled a sympathetic face, but as Silva watched, she and the third matriarch at the table shared a swift, superior look, one they couldn’t help. They were amateurs as well.
It made things easier for her, if nothing else.
Easywas a boon she would accept gladly, as there were other factors already stacked against her, obstacles she’d not foreseen. The cultural differences between Silmë elves and Summerland elves were negligible, Silva had always thought, but his mother had acted as if a compromise between the sun temple and the moon temple was an insurmountable obstacle, one she’d reminded Silva of every day since. It hadn’t mattered that his family was about as observant as her own when it came to temple rituals — which was to say, not at all. It was something to hold against the daughter-in-law she’d not personally had a hand in choosing, the one who’d declined an extravagant ceremony and robbed her of the chance to preside over an elegant wedding reception.Not that she would recognize elegance if it waltzed through the door and rifled through the refrigerator.
“They’ve only been married a few months,” Tannar’s grandmother added, giving Silva a conspiratorial wink. That, too, was an amateur move, but she’d deduced that there was no love lost between the older elf and Tannar’s mother, and Silva knew better than to overlook an ally. “And they spent half of that moving! I have every confidence that by this time next year, we’ll have our ownwonderfulnews.”
Tannar’s mother was forced to change the subject, and Silva gave his grandmother her sweetest smile.
The conversation turned toward next week’s church charity event. Plans, duties, assignments, each elf at the table having volunteered for something. The events at his parents’ club weren’t as big as what Silva was used to; the planning committees were woefully inept and under-funded.They don’t even have a dedicated florist. She had offered to help arrange the flowers being bought at the wholesale market, not something she considered her specialty, but even her most half-hearted efforts shone brightly here.
This place would never feel like home, she’d decided, but it was safety. The same faces, the same expectations, the same unspoken rules, everything she was used to, exactly as it had always been.On easy mode, no less.
“We’re dropping into the trunk show at Lily & Lace today,” the mother of the little boy announced, giving Silva a sidelong look. “You’re welcome to join us, Silva, but it’s just going to be clothes for the children.”
Her smile was tight-lipped but serene. She understood the subtext.We might be amateurs, but we’re in a club not open to you. Not yet, perhaps. Beneath her breast, a flutter and a twist, as if her little wing had been listening and disapproved of their existence continuing to be a tightly held secret.
There was no other choice. Silva didn’t know how to account for the length of time she had been sick to her stomach, endless months of it by then, couldn’t deny the existence that there wassomething there inside her . . . what it was, though, she didn’t know. She was too afraid to find out, and it was easier to pretend there was nothing there at all.
“Thank you for the invitation,” she hummed, although it had hardly been that. “I actually have an appointment to keep this afternoon. There’s an antique auction in the city. And then,” she turned to the elf beside her — unobjectionable, perfectly nice, handsome, kind and successful, who had never once made her heart so much as speed up — “I’m picking upsomeone’s favorite takeout for dinner.”
Tannar shook a fist in triumph, grinning broadly. “I’d almost forgotten! I haven’t had good ph? since that place in Bridgeton. Everything’s coming up Tannar today.”
Silva smiled, the perfect new bride, leaning in to accept the kiss he pressed to her cheek.
“What antique shop is this?” Lucine’s mother asked, brows drawing together. “Is it the shop right up the block from Lily & Lace? Because you can still come with —”
Tannar shook his head, answering for her before the other elf had finished speaking. “This is some invite-only sale.I’mnot even allowed to go with her.”
The two elves shared a glance.
A careful sip of her tea, a polished, Silva of the Daytime smile. No one at this table needed to know where she was going, her husband included. “It’s a private collection. Just looking for a few tea set pieces to supplement what my grandmother gave me.” Another sip, another smile. “Will there be any decisions coming up on the spring fundraiser? I do hope it’s something fun!” It was enough to reroute them entirely. Silva breathed a small sigh of relief. Safe for another day.
Across the table, Lucine was fiddling with the sleeve of her dress again.It itches her, Silva wanted to interject, wanted someone at the table to notice the child’s movements, to actuallyseeher.
Instead, her mother caught her wrist. “Mind your manners, darling.”
Silva continued to sip her tea, keeping the cup pressed to her lips even after it was empty. She might not be happy, but she knew what to expect. She knew the rules of this game, of this place, and she could continue her life as if nothing out of the ordinary had ever derailed her.
This place would never be home, but she wasn’t sure thatanyplace would ever feel like home again, not anywhere in the world. Not sincehe’dleft, taking her heart with him. Ripped directly from her chest, dripping from his teeth as he disappeared forever.
***
There was no way to admit in polite company that she had become a bit of a regular in clandestine circles. Certainly not something she could discuss over quiche at her mother-in-law’s table.
