“We could dilute it,” Annika suggested. “Or mix it with honey to sweeten the taste. I’ve always found honey to be beneficial.”
Gwennore tilted her head as she considered. Honey. She turned to Silas. “Wasn’t the drink the trolls made based on honey?”
“You’re talking to me again?”
She gave him a wry look.
His eyebrows lifted, but he held his gaze steady on her. “Yes, their mead is made with honey.”
“You’re thinking about using it?” Margosha asked Gwennore.
She nodded. “If we dilute it with water, I think it would make an excellent base for a medicinal tonic. It would have enough sweetness to offset the heat of the pepper spice.”
Annika grinned. “And if it makes people drunk, it will be very popular!”
“Could you buy some mead from the trolls?” Gwennore asked Silas.
“They won’t accept gold or jewels in payment, but I could barter with some chickens and maybe a goat.”
Her heart raced at the way he was watching her so intently. She cleared her throat. “I’m sure they’ll cooperate once they know we’ll be using it to cure the plague.”
He nodded. “I’ll bring you a barrel by tonight.”
She gave him a hesitant smile. “Thank you.”
“Then we can have dinner together.”
Her heart squeezed. Memories of their passionate moment in the cabin flashed through her mind. Rule number five had been: Beware of kissing a dragon. He won’t burn you, but he might make you melt. Holy goddesses, she felt like she was melting now just from the sound of his voice and the hungry way he was looking at her.
But she was afraid to give in. Afraid she would jeopardize his future. Afraid she would never be accepted. And still peeved that he and Dimitri thought they could decide a woman’s future without consulting her.
She motioned to the pile of shredded verna leaves on the table. “I have to grind all this up. And it’s only the first batch.” She pointed at the stacks of leaves piled up on other tables. “As you can see, I’m going to be busy all day.”
“We need to talk,” he said quietly.
“I’m listening.” She went back to work, adding more shredded leaves to the mortar.
“In private,” he added.
Annika nudged Gwennore with her elbow.
She heaved a sigh and shot Silas an annoyed look. “What is it?”
“You want to hear it now?” he asked drily, and she nodded. “Fine. Last night, I tried to sneak into your bedchamber so we could have hours of wild and passionate lovemaking, hot enough to burn the sheets off your bed. But I couldn’t because Dimitri had bunked down in front of my dressing room door with a sword. The idiot thinks he has to protect your honor.”
Annika covered her mouth as she choked on a laugh.
Margosha sat back with a scandalized look.
Gwennore’s face grew hot. The rascal. She didn’t know whether to be mortified or excited. Excited. “Please convey my gratitude to my cousin.”
A flash of gold shot through Silas’s eyes. “I understand.” He turned and left the room.
Her heart clenched as she fought an urge to run after him and fling her arms around him.
“What’s going on with you two?” Annika asked.
Gwennore blinked back tears. There was no point in denying it. She was hopelessly in love. Silas was everything she’d ever wanted. He believed in her. Trusted her. Loved her. He was the right man for her.
But she couldn’t get over this niggling fear that she wasn’t the right woman for him.
* * *
That evening, some soldiers arrived at the workroom with a barrel of mead. Gwennore told herself she wasn’t disappointed when Silas didn’t deliver it himself. But then Annika excused herself so she could have dinner with Dimitri. And Margosha left so she could attend the queen in the Great Hall and taste all of Her Majesty’s food.
Gwennore was left alone in the workroom with her hands sore from grinding leaves all day. Fool, she chided herself. She could be having dinner with Silas.
She rushed back to her bedchamber and Nissa helped her into a lavender gown that matched her eyes. Her heart pounding, she dashed off to the Great Hall. When she entered, she noticed that dinner had already begun. Courtiers were eating and drinking at the different tables, busily chatting and laughing.
On the far side of the room, on the dais, the royal family was having dinner. King Petras sat on a jewel-encrusted chair in the middle with his queen to his left and his younger brother to his right. Silas looked glumly at the plate of food in front of him.
Would he be happy to see her? Gwennore started to cross the room. As courtiers noticed her, they stopped talking. Stopped eating.
She swallowed hard. Where on Aerthlan could she sit? The table where she’d sat before was close to the dais, but Dimitri was there with Annika. She didn’t want to interfere with their date.
She slowed at a stop, suddenly afraid she’d made an enormous mistake. A hush fell over the room, as all the courtiers stared at her.
Silas glanced up and grinned when he spotted her. His chair made a scratching noise as he pushed it back. He jumped off the dais and strode toward her.
The whispers began.
She’s bewitched him.
She must have slipped him a love potion.
We can’t have an elfin witch for our next queen!
It was happening again. Gwennore fought the urge to run away like she’d always done at Ebton Palace whenever she’d overheard the ugly remarks. She clenched her fists. Don’t let them know how much they hurt you.
Silas stopped in front of her and bowed. “As heir to the Norveshki throne, I would like to welcome Lady Gwennore back to her homeland.”
Gasps sounded around the room.
Homeland?
This isn’t her home.
“Twenty-two years ago, Lord Tolenko traveled to Woodwyn as our official envoy. There he met an elfin princess and fathered a child with her, Lady Gwennore.” Silas motioned to her. “This lovely lady is both an elfin princess and a Norveshki noblewoman. And she is working tirelessly
