War of the Seasons, book one: The Human

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE: Friends

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE: Friends

Story’s eyes blinked open slowly, and she stretched out into a catlike yawn. Her fingers brushed a face. Eirnin’s face! He was still there, and that fact alone made her smile.

“Good morning, little human/dryad chaotic abomination.”

Story peeked up at him through sleep-filled eyes and stuck her tongue out. “Who you calling little, elf-boy? Last I checked you were shorter than just about every other elf I’ve ever met.”

“Aye, but you haven’t exactly met a wide range now, have you?” He stuck his tongue back out at her, and she made a grab for it with her hand. He snapped at her fingers with his teeth, and she jerked them back just in time and giggled.

Eirnin cocked an eyebrow and then grinned at her wickedly. “You know what I’ve wondered for a while now?”

Story propped her chin up on his chest and smiled up at him. “No…”

“Are you ticklish?”

Before she could respond he rolled her beneath him and started tickling her furiously. Story shrieked with laughter and tried to capture his hands in hers to make him stop, but he was too strong, and her loud giggling and squirming only encouraged him to double his torturous attack.

So Story attempted a different tactic. Forcefully taking his face in both of her hands she pulled him into a deep kiss. The tickling stopped almost immediately, and when they both finally came up for air, Eirnin’s eyes were a swirl of purple and orange.

“You know, you’re very lucky my dad is already dead, because if he caught you here with me like this, he’d kill you. Slowly.” Story made sure to smile to let him know that she was just teasing him. And strangely enough, joking about her father with Eirnin wasn’t painful. It felt nice to be able to do it.

Eirnin rolled onto his side and propped his head up with his arm. “Is that so?”

Story nodded emphatically and leaned in for another kiss.

“Because your mother doesn’t seem to mind.” He looked over Story’s shoulder meaningfully.

She froze millimeters away from kissing him, sat straight up, and looked over at Almera. She was seated casually on the only stool in the room, and Story had no idea how long she’d been there. A blush burned from Story’s hairline to the tips of her toes.

“Good morning, Daughter,” she said brightly, completely at ease. “I came by to see if you wanted breakfast—you humans do seem to always be hungry—but you were sleeping so peacefully that I didn’t want to disturb you, so I’ve been getting to know your elf a bit better.” Then she leaned forward and stage whispered, “He’s a keeper!”

Story wanted to crawl into a hole and die of embarrassment. Her mother and Eirnin had been chatting for who knew how long, while she lay there snoring. And then, when she woke up, she’d…

Story buried her face in her hands. I think I liked it better when I didn’t have a mother. She took a calming breath and looked up at Almera’s beaming face.

“It’s not what it looks like. Eirnin’s not my elf. He’s just… we’re just…” She looked over at him for some help, and he simply quirked an eyebrow up at her in response—as if daring her to say they were “just friends.”

The silence hung awkwardly for a moment before Almera graciously filled it.

“You, dear girl, are wound way too tight. Relax. No one here is judging you, least of all me. You are among dryads after all. No one cares if you and your elf have—”