Pardoned on the Peak (Sequel to New World Sasanaichs)

Twelve

Just as had been predicted, it took eight Days for Geneva to fully recover from being Transformed into an Elf since she’d pushed herself and set back that recovery by almost a full Day. The first three Days of her recovery were spent in a deep sleep, which she only woke from long enough to relieve herself in a chamber pot before knocking out again. On the fourth Day, she’d finally woken up enough for her mother to convince her to drink some broth, then promptly curled up like a kitten and fallen right back into that disturbingly deep sleep.

        When she did finally wake for longer than it took to relieve herself and/or drink that broth, she felt as if she’d been asleep merely overnight, not a solid week. Her only real complaint when she woke was not only the need to once again relieve herself–this Time, in the privy, rather than a chamber pot–and feeling stiff from inactivity. That stiffness was quick to dissipate, though–quicker than she’d have imagined it’d be, if anyone’d tried to describe how she’d feel upon waking before her Transformation.

        Finally seeing her eyes actually open again drew a long, relieved sigh from Jamie, and hearing her actually speak put a heart-warming smile on his face. With his more tender feelings toward her came a constant worry much like he felt for his ginger wife and the children they had together. Part of him’d worried that the brunette lass’d never wake up, even though he damn well kent better than that, and seeing her once again animate was more than a lil reassuring. But he also well kent that now that she was awake, quite a few things were gonna Change–and those Changes started with the visit paid to them by the rest of the Elvin population of Morgan’s Peak.

        “’Tis a pleasure to see ye more animate than a Stone, MiLady,” Lachlan chuckled, gently kissing her knuckles as he gave her fingers a gentle squeeze.

        “I’m certain it is,” the brunette lass said. “I’ll admit that I don’t feel any different, if you don’t count feeling like I hadn’t eaten in a month once I awoke.”

        “Completely normal, leanabh,” he told her. “Ye’ll find that Elves can be insatiable at Times in more ways than one.”

        Geneva’s face heated up, partly at the fact that her own family was sitting on her front porch with her and clearly understood what he meant as well as she did.

        “Me family and I came to no only check in on ye, but to introduce ye to someone ye havena met yet,” the Elvin patriarch continued.

        “This is me father, Laird Tiernan of the House of Guardians,” Saoirse said, gently pushing forward a man who didn’t look a Day older than her shared husband.

        Said man responded in something that wasn’t the slightest bit familiar to her ears, but the smile on his face before he kissed her knuckles told the brunette lass that he hadn’t said anything bad.

        “Ye’ll likely no believe me at first, but he’s over two Millennia in age,” she chuckled. “And there’s anyone who can teach ye about being an Elf, ’tis Athair.”

        “Surely, you jest!” Geneva’s eyes widened and her jaw dropped at that particular revelation.

        “I still remember the Time when the Tuatha D’Dannan ruled what’s now Ireland as the chosen people,” Tiernan retorted, proving he knew English, not just whatever he’d spoken before. “The Time when they were literal Gods, mind.”

        “The what, now?” Lord Dunsany’s brow furrowed in confusion.

        “They’re a race of Warrior Fae who were once Irish Gods,” he explained. “Imagine meself or Lachlan wearing leather tunics and breeks, but wi’ wings.”

        All the Greys and Dunsanys looked flabbergasted as they tried to imagine said pair looking like that, which clearly amused the seemingly massive group of Elves.