Chapter 10 #2
So she composed a text: Emergency. I’m coming over. Sent. Shoes on. Jacket too. She was out the door before she could second-guess herself.
When Elara opened the door, her eyes went wide, pupils flaring slightly, probably reacting to whatever storm of emotion Beth was broadcasting.
“Okay,” she said, stepping back automatically.
“Did you already kill someone and we need to make a body disappear, or do I still have time to talk you out of murder?”
“Gael’s mother came for a visit.”
Elara closed her eyes. Just for a second. Then she exhaled, turned on her heel, and waved Beth in like this was her hundredth emergency response.
Beth stepped inside, immediately enveloped by the warm, earthy chaos that was Elara’s home.
Wood floors, glowing salt lamps, books stacked like barricades, bundles of drying herbs, and the occasional bone or jar of something suspiciously magical.
It smelled like rosemary, lavender, and a hint of smudge smoke.
She’d always loved it here. Comforting in its clutter.
Entirely Elara. Aryon didn’t live there, clearly.
He preferred the lodge near the grove, removed, spotless, and serene.
Typical High Elf in the woods. Elara had once called it his “moody monk phase” and never walked that back.
Beth made a beeline for the kitchen table and dropped into a chair like her spine was the only thing holding her upright. “I love him,” she declared.
Elara sat across from her, expression softening. “I know. When you two are together, your auras sync like a spell circle. But even when he’s not here?” She gestured vaguely toward Beth. “Still glowing.”
Beth swallowed. “We’re fated mates.”
“I know that too. He came to us when he first realized it to ask if we’d enforce the old rules. We told him we wouldn’t. Not to him, not to anyone.”
Beth’s voice cracked. “I love you guys for that.”
Elara tilted her head, waiting.
Beth drew in a breath and straightened. “There’s more.
I need you to teach me. Me and Gael? That’s settled.
But his mother wasn’t wrong about one thing.
I’m human, and I don’t know your world. Not enough.
Bits and pieces from you and Aryon, sure, but that’s not going to cut it anymore.
” She leaned forward. “I want to be someone who belongs at his side. Not some clueless outsider who smiles politely and gets eaten alive. Teach me. Give me Elves 101.”
IT HADN’T BEEN AN ALL-nighter, but it cut close to it.
Beth drove back home when night had lost its darkness.
She’d scratched the tip of the iceberg, but she had to start somewhere, and Elara had been a great teacher, giving her a thorough introduction to everything Elvish and a list of books to read before they had a second lesson.
She got home, hit the shower, glad she didn’t have the morning shift so she could catch a few hours’ sleep before going in to work.
She fell asleep and dreamed of elves.
THE FIRST THING SHE saw when she opened her eyes was sunlight streaming through the window of her bedroom. Then, sitting in the armchair in the corner of the room... “Gael?” And just like that, everything from the night before came crashing back.
She pushed herself upright. “Gael! Wait—how did you get in?”
His expression was calm, serious. “I opened the door.”
“Pretty sure I locked it.”
“You did.” He stood and crossed the room. “Your door is barely a suggestion, l?oraen. No wards or seals. You should really fix it.” He sat beside her, careful, like he didn’t want to startle her. “My mother came here last night.”
“She did. She really did.” Beth winced, then squared her shoulders. “I’m sorry. I was rude, I said bad words, and I know she’s your mother, but it was very unexpected and—”
Gael touched a finger to her lips, silencing her.
“L?oraen,” he said quietly, “I will never, no matter how long our lives will be, apologize enough for that.”
The look on his face stopped her more than the words. He wasn’t just sorry, he looked wrecked with it. “Oh?”
He sighed and took her hand between both of his. “She had no right. None. She crossed a line, and I’ll make sure she never does it again. I know how she is, and whatever you told her, however you said it, she earned it.”
Beth gave a tiny shrug. “She wasn’t exactly dripping honey.”
“No, she wouldn’t be.”
A flicker of a smile crossed his lips. Then he cupped her face, looking at her like she was the center of his whole damn world. “I’m so, so sorry. I told her and Val about you. About us, which is what spurred her into action.”
“What did Val say?”
“He loves love. He’d be happy if I mated with a twig.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “But when I told him it was you, he was ecstatic.”
“He’s the sweetest.”
Gael pressed kisses to her forehead, her cheeks, her temple. “I’m sorry,” he murmured again.
“You don’t have to be.” She tugged his arm until he sat back against the headboard, then curled into his side like she belonged there—because she did. “And, well, she got me thinking.”
He tilted his head. “Okay, I guess.”
“I’m assuming this thing between us is long-term.”
“Obviously.”
“And you’ll still be part of the High Family.”
“That’s something I can renounce.”
“I would never ask you to.” She looked up at him.
“But if I’m with you, really with you, I can’t just drift along like some little secret.
You know how to navigate my world, but I don’t know yours, not really.
” She took a breath. “I want to learn. I want to understand it, all of it. The rules. The players. The politics. The knives hidden behind the smiles. I want to be someone who can stand beside you not just as your mate, but as someone with her own damn shield.”
He blinked at her, clearly moved.
She smiled faintly. “Because let’s be honest, your mom probably won’t be the only one who comes for me.”
“No,” he admitted, brushing her hair back. “She won’t.”
Silence settled for a moment, thoughtful and full.
Then he said quietly, “You know, if you ever wanted to stay with me in Olympia, it might be easier. You’d see it firsthand. I could show and teach you everything. Be there every step.”
Beth looked up at him, heart thudding.
“I don’t want to ask you to leave all this,” he added quickly. “You love it here. But–”
It was her time to silence him. “I do love this town. But I love you more. And it’s not like I’ll never come back.
The pub, Elara, Aryon, Mystic Hollow’s part of me now.
It doesn’t have to be all of me.” She smiled, warm and certain.
“Maybe it’s time to expand my horizons. Starting with Elf Politics for the Stubborn Mortal. ”
Gael brushed his fingers down her arm, his voice soft but a little smug. “You realize you share my lifespan now, right?”
Beth blinked. “What now?”
He shrugged, entirely too casual about it. “Fated mates, shared energy, ancient magic. We’re in for a long, long life together.”
She sat up straighter, squinting at him. “You’re telling me I have to pay taxes for centuries?”
“Only if we stay in the human system. I can get you on the elven registry after we make this official.” He grinned, smacking her lips with a noisy kiss.
“You’ll see.” He tilted his forehead to hers, more serious again.
“We have time now, Beth. We can go at our own pace. Figure this out. You don’t have to learn it all overnight. ”
“I know.” Her voice was quiet. “But I want to be ready. For you. For us.”
He kissed her then, slow, and deep, and full of love.
“Hey, what’s the elf word for my only love?” she asked him.
“Meleth-n?n.”
“Then, meleth-n?n, let’s go show ancient elves some new business.”
SIX MONTHS LATER.
The trial ended after a few sharp gasps, some furious quill-scratching from the Council scribes, and one deeply gratifying declaration of guilt.
Bryn was still smug until the moment the verdict was read, and it wiped the smirk off his face.
He was sentenced to magical probation, his powers bound by an ancient seal and overseen by not one but three council-appointed monitors.
He wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone else with his illusions for a long, long while, and social exile would handle the rest.
Gael didn’t walk away untouched. He’d broken protocol, deliberately and repeatedly, to protect Beth.
For that, the Council fined him the symbolic sum of one thousand old coins–because she was his mate, and for as conceited as they could be, elves understood that.
He paid it in antique silver, delivered in a velvet pouch that smelled faintly of rebellion.
Then he framed the receipt and hung it in their hallway under a plaque that read, WORTH IT.
Beth found another job she genuinely loved, Community Liaison for Human-Elves Relations.
It turned out being underestimated for most of your adult life made you very good at managing diplomatic bullshit with a smile.
She helped rewrite outdated policies, building bridges between elves and. .. whoever else, really.
She also moved in with Gael, which had brought the biggest surprise. She knew he was wealthy, but she hadn’t expected that wealthy.
She moved in in his mansion. Technically, it was a historic family estate on the edge of Olympia—think sprawling gardens, rooms with names like The East Library, and a bathtub that could seat six comfortably and possibly summon rain if asked nicely.
Beth joked she needed a compass to find the kitchen. She wasn’t entirely kidding.
But what had really unraveled her was Gael in a suit and tie.
Elven formalwear was a weapon. Tailored within an inch of its life, layered with centuries of ancestral arrogance, it made him look like sin in cufflinks. The first time she saw him dressed for Council, she walked into a wall.
Hard.
Gael never let her forget it.
And through all the chaos, they were happy.
The happy built in quiet mornings and late-night strategy sessions, in moonlit gasps among dirt and thyme. In slow kisses and stubborn silences, in fierce arguments and whispered promises no one else would ever hear.
They fought like equals, loved like soulmates, and never, not once, forgot what it took to get there.
Beth still wore cutoffs and stuff her hands in the dirt, knowing what it did to him.
Gael still magiked her wildflowers and meadows in winter.
They still looked at each other like fate hadn’t just touched them, but had forged them.
As spring breathed life into the petals around them and the stars blinked down in quiet approval, Beth lay in the grass beside him, her hand in his, surrounded by the scent of new growth and soft earth. The garden pulsed gently around them, alive and thriving.
She exhaled slowly, eyes on the sky. “Blossoms and bloodlines,” she said. “That’s what it all came down to.”
Gael turned his head toward her, his gaze steady, ageless, and utterly hers. “No. It came down to what would survive the storm.” He brought her hand to his lips. “And the blossoms held on.”
THE END
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