Chapter 4
ELOWIN
When I’d chosen the nickname Sparrow for Birdoswyn, it had mainly been because of his soft brown hair, but it was apparent that the name fit him in more ways than one.
He was bright-eyed and curious, and although he was still flagging slightly from the aftereffects of last night’s beer, that didn’t stop him from flitting off the path to look at a plant or an oddly shaped rock or anything else that caught his eye.
His enthusiasm was adorable. Sparrow was adorable.
He hummed the song he’d learned last night under his breath, and I smiled to myself.
He was so hopelessly naive that he really did think it was about cuckoos, and I didn’t have the heart to tell him otherwise.
Then again, maybe it would be worth it just to make him blush.
Watching his pale cheeks bloom pink under his freckles was a sight I wouldn’t mind seeing again.
My thoughts returned to what he’d said last night.
It had been after I’d carried him up the stairs and deposited him in the bed.
He was three sheets to the wind, loose limbed and happy.
I’d been pulling his boots off when he’d propped himself up on his elbows and stared at me, his eyes as wide as a doe’s, and said, “You’re the most handsome elf I’ve ever seen.
” Then he’d let out a wistful sigh before collapsing on the mattress and passing out.
I was certain he didn’t remember, but I did.
And I was flattered that he found me attractive, even if it had only been the ramblings of a happy drunk.
But the way he’d kept casting glances at me this morning when I’d been shirtless, it felt like his attraction didn’t only reside at the bottom of a pint glass.
Not that it mattered, because it was clear he had his heart set on marrying Aldian.
We walked for a couple of hours at an easy pace, and I grew used to Sparrow trailing behind, disappearing into the trees to follow whatever had caught his eye.
He was more like a puppy than a sparrow, I decided—easily distracted by new sights and sounds.
But after a few minutes, he’d always end up walking alongside me again, chattering about what he’d seen.
I couldn’t wait to see what his reaction to the chaos and magic of Everend Market would be.
Suddenly he froze and then slowly lifted one hand and pointed.
“There!” he whispered. I followed his gaze just in time to spot a mother deer and her fawn disappearing into the woods.
His eyes were bright and his cheeks were flushed with excitement as he moved quietly off the path and followed the doe.
I fought the urge to call him back. Sparrow was a full-grown elf and capable of making his own decisions.
Besides, what harm could possibly come from a little deer watching?
I slipped off the heavy rucksack and settled myself against the trunk of a tree, stretching my legs out in front of me while I waited.
The somnolent buzz of insects, the breeze whispering through the leaves, and the rustle of grass played as soothing background music, and I found my eyes slipping closed as I soaked up the sounds.
The day had gotten warmer and I’d barely slept on the hard wooden floor last night, so it wasn’t long before I’d slipped into a place that wasn’t quite sleep but was close enough to be its cousin.
The peace lasted right until I heard a cry tinged with panic.
“Elowin! Help!”
Sparrow!
I was on my feet before my eyes were properly open, and I ran toward the sound of his voice, my heart in my throat. What if the deer had charged him? What if there was a stag in the woods, and Sparrow was impaled on an antler?
I forced myself to take a breath. Sparrow hadn’t sounded like an impaled elf.
Not that I’d ever heard an impaled elf, but I was making an educated guess that if there was an antler in someone’s insides, they’d be yelling a lot louder than Sparrow was.
No, he’d sounded more annoyed than injured, so surely whatever the problem was, it couldn’t be too bad.
He called out again. “Elowin?”
Wait. What if he was weak from injury?
“Coming!” I hurried through the ferns and undergrowth until finally I came to a small thicket.
I almost laughed in relief when I saw what had happened.
There were no antlers, and as far as I could see, no injuries either.
Sparrow had simply gotten his ridiculously long hair tangled in one of the bushes and was caught fast.
“I think if we just cut—”
“No!” Sparrow turned his wide gaze on me. “I mustn’t cut my hair, Elowin! I’ve been growing it my whole life!”
“I was going to say we could cut the branch,” I said. “And at least that way we could sit down somewhere while we work all the tangles out. But if you’d rather stand…”
He bit his lower lip. “I’m sorry. I panicked, just a little bit.”
“Hmm.” I took my knife from my pack, which Sparrow was wearing. “Just a little bit, sure.”
He gave me a tentative smile.
I sawed away at the little branches Sparrow had somehow gotten his hair tangled around, or that had somehow tangled around his hair.
It was impossible to tell the culprit, and it was going to be a painstakingly long job getting them untangled without resorting to cutting his hair.
It took a while to get him free, and when he was, I guided him away from the bush and sat him down at the base of a massive spreading oak in a nest of bracken.
I sat behind him, my back resting against the trunk of the oak, and began to work.
It was cool in the woods, shaded and a little damp. The air smelled of loam and life, and the breeze carried the sounds of rustling leaves and birdsong. I carefully worked the first twig out of Sparrow’s hair.
His hair was soft and shining, the strands strong and healthy even though the length was ridiculously impractical.
I’d seen enough tapestries and frescoes around the royal palace to know that this had been the style once upon a time—but so had shoes with toes so pointed they needed to be tied to ribbons attached to the knee to avoid tripping over them.
There were some fashions best left in the past.
Sparrow twisted his fingers in his lap as I worked, and I could see the tension he was holding in his neck and shoulders. Still worried I’d tell him we needed to cut it, I guessed. His anxiety made me even more determined to save every strand.
It was long, slow work. Insects buzzed and birds warbled, and once, a rabbit loped up to us, close enough to touch.
Sparrow’s sharp, delighted intake of breath startled it away again.
An hour or more must have passed before I was even close to finishing, and in that time the day had grown cooler and the shadows longer.
A shiver passed through Sparrow as my fingers brushed the nape of his neck.
“It almost feels cold,” I said, “sitting here in the shade after walking in the sun for so long.”
He hummed his agreement as I carefully unwound a few strands of his hair from a particularly thorny stick.
A few moments later, I felt warmth on my back, as though a shaft of sunlight had broken through the canopy of the massive oak tree shading us. I glanced up, but there was no break in the leaves.
“Did you feel that?” I asked. “It just got warmer.”
“That’s me,” Sparrow said, a flush rising on the back of his neck where I was currently working a stick loose. “It’s my magic, I mean.”
I was so surprised that I forgot to keep untangling him. “That’s amazing! What else can you do?”
Sparrow turned his head toward me, nose wrinkling. “Oh, um, just that. It’s not very impressive.”
“Oh.” I blinked and began to work at his hair again. “I think it’s… well, it’s very nice, thank you.”
He was right in that it wasn’t very impressive.
There were rumored to be elves in Dun Steorra who could change the course of the planets in the heavens with the sheer force of their magic.
But what good did that dramatic sort of celestial rearrangement do anyone who just wanted a little patch of sunlight on a cool day?
I liked Sparrow’s magic better.
We sat in the soft warmth as I worked through the rest of the tangles until finally I removed the last twig.
I ran my fingers through the long tresses, checking for any hidden snarls or bits of branches.
Sparrow tensed, then gave a pleased shudder that reminded me of a cat when a fingertip was dragged down its spine just right.
I smiled to myself and took my hands from his hair and reached out for my bag.
It only took a moment to find what I was looking for.
I held the brush in front of him. “May I?”
“What are you planning to do?” he asked, his gaze fixed on the brush.
“I thought I’d brush your hair out, and then perhaps we could put it in a braid or something, to make it easier to manage.”
He half turned to face me, biting his bottom lip. “But how will people know I’m from a noble family if I have a braid?”
I wondered again exactly how sheltered life was in Hillstowe, and whether if I looked in Sparrow’s wardrobe, I’d find a pair of those pointy-toed shoes.
“I promise, I know plenty of people of noble birth who tie their hair back or even cut it,” I said.
“It’s not something anybody really pays attention to. ”
His gaze darted to my own dark hair that was tightly braided and hanging over one shoulder. “It does seem very practical,” he said wistfully.
“We’d make sure it’s loose and brushed when we get to the market,” I assured him, “but while we’re on the road, it would make life easier, especially if you’re planning to keep running off into the woods.”
He reached out and stroked the length of my braid, his touch lingering for a long moment. Then he turned back around, bending his head forward. “If you think it’s for the best.”
I hid my smile and got to work brushing his hair in long, even strokes until it was fanned out in front of me.
The sunlight caught faint flashes of red and golden highlights hidden among the brown like jewels, and when I was done, his hair gleamed in a glorious display.
I gave one more stroke of the brush, then paused.
“Your hair’s very long. It might be better if you stood for the next bit. ”
Sparrow hopped nimbly to his feet—which left me looking directly at his arse. It was a very nice arse, pert and peach-like, and I stared at it for longer than was strictly decent before I eased myself to my feet. If Aldian did choose to marry Sparrow, he’d be making a wise choice.
I tilted Sparrow’s head forward slightly and divided his hair into three sections, then started weaving the strands carefully into a braid, making sure to keep it even.
Sparrow’s breath caught when my fingers brushed the nape of his neck, and I wasn’t sure the rising heat of his skin I felt in my fingertips was entirely down to his magic.
But I didn’t say anything; I didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable.
I’d learned to braid when I was a child by braiding my sister Rowan’s hair. She’d learned to braid mine at the same time. I couldn’t do anything too intricate, but then Sparrow’s hair didn’t require any adornment. He might have thought the color plain, but I thought it was lovely.
I took a step back from him as I worked, and then another.
His hair was so long that it was impossible to braid up close.
I felt more like a boatman unspooling a length of rope than Sparrow’s impromptu hairdresser.
A jay fluttered down from the oak, the blue feathers of its wings a bright flash of color against its pinkish gray body, and twittered.
“Watch it,” I told it as it alighted on Sparrow’s braid. “That’s not for making your nest.”
Sparrow twisted to see and laughed as the jay flew away again. “Oh! Did it want my hair?”
“The little thief,” I said and laughed as well. Sparrow might have begged me not to cut a single strand of his hair, but I bet he’d pluck himself bald for a bird’s sake. I finally reached the end of his hair and tied it with one of my spare ribbons. “There.”
Sparrow’s hands came up behind his head as he turned to face me. “It feels strange. Heavier than usual.”
“But at least it won’t get caught up again.”
He nodded and pulled the braid forward so it hung down one side of his chest. Even with a generous loop of it still on his back, it reached his waist. “Yes, it’s very useful to have it out of the way.
I can see that.” He showed me a bright smile.
“Thank you, Elowin. I’m afraid I just cost us hours.
Will we make the next tavern by nightfall, do you think? ”
“It was going to be a farmhouse this time,” I told him. “And no, probably not.”
Sparrow worried his bottom lip with his teeth. “What shall we do?”
I shrugged. “There will be other farmhouses, or we can always sleep in the woods.”
“In the woods?” His eyes grew wide for a moment.
“If it’s good enough for your birds, Sparrow, then it’s good enough for us,” I said, and he flushed and laughed. “Come on, let’s get moving again.”
We headed back for the road, leaving Sparrow’s little patch of warm magic to dissipate in the shade of the woods.