The Dark Elf’s Surprise Baby (Secret Babies For Prothekan Dark Elves Book 2)
The Dark Elf’s Surprise Baby: Chapter 4

The magic was complicated. Fireflies are living things and taking control of a living thing is never easy.

But it is worth it for Harper.

I love her. My heart blooms for her. How could I not do it?

I would practice the most difficult magic for her if it would make her happy.

With a wave of my hand, the garden grows dark. The fireflies dance in the air, twisting and curling around one another.

The air becomes more richly fragranced in the dark. The sweet scents of the flowers and blossoming fruit trees melds with the tart, sharp scents of the herbs.

The light of the fireflies seems to burn holes in the dark sky, leaving traces of golden light shimmering behind them.

I keep them moving with magic and willpower, and it is a strain. But when I look at Harper’s wide, bright eyes, again I feel a sense of satisfaction.

Satisfaction that I do not think I will ever feel for anyone else.

I have found her. I have found the one for me.

It is clear that my surprise has pleased her. I love doing these little surprises, and some of my human servants call me romantic.

“This is all so beautiful.” Her voice is bright and soft and as sweet as her smile.

“It is almost as beautiful as you are.” I reply, smiling. I am conscious then that the other servants have come to look at the fireflies.

I don’t mind them enjoying it too. Harper loves all of them, I think to myself.

“Thank you.” Harper replies, her voice hushed.

“You never have to thank me darling.”

The truth is that I have not seen Harper for several weeks now. My work has required intensive attention.

Leading my squad has not been easy lately. There have been constant squabbles among my soldiers.

Some of the soldiers underneath my command have also bungled several strategic maneuvers.

It is infuriating to say the least. But I do what I can and what I must.

I only hate that it takes me away from Harper.

Harper comes over to me then, smiling her shy smile. She pushes a few stray strands of hair away from her face.

“I know this magic is a strain for you,” she whispers. She places a soft hand on my arm. “You can stop now.”

Her words make something snap inside me.

And with that, the magic stops and the fireflies disperse. The garden becomes lighter. But, surprisingly, I see that nighttime has fallen.

I gesture to the butler, and he nods. With that, the servants jump into action.

Harper is looking up at the sky, barely noticing the movement around her. Her bright hazel eyes are, for a second, a kaleidoscope of color. Then she looks at me, and then around her, her expression slightly dazed.

“What is happening?” She gasps with delight when she sees what the servants have set up.

“We’ll be having dinner outside tonight.” I murmur, sliding an arm around her waist. I plant a soft kiss on the top of her head.

A table is set out at the side of the garden, and it is straining underneath various bowls and baskets of food and bread.

But we will not be sitting at the table. Instead, the servants spread three large blankets out on the grass. Plates, glasses, and the best silver cutlery are stacked on the blankets.

Harper turns to me, her sweet smile still lingering, though her eyes are glassy with tears. I reach my hand to her face instinctively.

“What is it? Why are you crying?”

Have I upset her? I think to myself.

She shakes her head and wipes away her tears.

“You really didn’t have to do all of this. I’m just crying because of how much I missed you.”

“Well,” I lean down and kiss the tip of her nose. “I am here now. And that is all that matters.”

The evening is warm and sweet and as balmy as it could possibly be.

Around us, some night time flowers are blooming bright and wide. Their petals are silvery blue and are bright in the darkening night.

The flowers are so bright that we do not really need light. But the servants go ahead and light torches anyway.

This is so perfect. Do not ever lose this. I tell myself sternly as Harper sits down on the blanket.

She is wearing a pale purple dress and the skirt of the dress spills away from her waist. The fabric ripples around her soft, lithe body beautifully. I can see the curves and lines of her body through the thin fabric of the dress.

I swallow as I follow her to the blanket. I sit down with some difficulty, and Harper laughs out loud when I struggle to cross my legs.

When I look more closely at the dress, I see that tiny, delicate rirzed flowers have been sewn into the fabric of the dress.

The color and texture of the fabric complements the warm undertones of Harper’s skin.

For a single moment, Harper looks lush and ripe and I have to restrain myself from groaning out loud.

Around us, the servants bring us dishes of meat, baskets of bread, and bowls of fresh fruit.

I wave the servants away after we have dished our fill, and Harper and I sit in silence.

Though as much as I love the simplicity of sitting in silence, I am anxious and eager to hear how Harper has been.

“So what have you been up to in the time that I have been gone?” I ask her.

She bites into some fruit, and licks her lips before speaking. I restrain the groan again.

“I have been reading mostly.” She says, and recounts some of the stories she has been reading.

I realize very quickly that she is reading stories that I read as a child.

“Are you trying to learn elvish?” I ask her, with wonder in my voice.

A blush spreads across her face.

“I want to be able to understand you when you speak. I know that sometimes you get tired, and speak your own language,” she says, her voice soft.

“I do,” I have never admitted this to anyone. “But you do not have to do that for me.”

“I want to.” There is obstinacy in her voice, and I smile indulgently.

We slowly eat our way through the various foods that the servants prepared. Everything is absolutely delicious, and I will be tipping each servant personally tomorrow.

I cannot help but notice that Harper eats more quickly than I do, and then hurries to clear up her plates.

When I finish, she moves to clear up mine, but I grab her hand gently.

“No,” my voice is firm but gentle. “That isn’t your job anymore. And there is nothing wrong with wanting to clean up. But I want you to rest.”

She smiles and I pull her into my arms. I place small, soft kisses on her jaw, on her nose, and her forehead. Then we push aside the soiled crockery and lay down on the blankets.

Now that I know that Harper was okay while I was away, laying in silence feels good.

The different constellations of stars brighten as the sun slips further beyond the horizon.

I rub at my forehead at the headache that is starting to build in my temples. As much as coming home has relaxed me, the stresses of the last few weeks remain.

Harper notices right away.

“What’s wrong? Is it your head?” She is used to the headaches that I get from stress.

“Come,” she says, her voice efficient. “Lay here and I’ll massage your head for you.”

I do as she says and lay my head in her lap. Slowly she strokes my forehead and temples, and pulls my shocking white hair from its braid.

Harper runs her hands through my hair, and though she doesn’t have magic, I feel as though she is imbuing my hair with something.

It feels as though she is threading love and happiness into each strand of hair that she twists between her fingers.

And again, I feel the same feeling that I always have with Harper.

Home.

Home.

Home.

The words echo forcefully around my mind.

I am finally home.

I am suddenly dragged back to the moment that I walked through the doors of my mansion. I knew that Harper was waiting for me. Now I remember exactly how I felt at that moment.

I was at peace for the first time in a long time.

Because of Harper.

I take her hands in mine then and sit up. I pull her into my arms, cradling her to me.

“Harper?” Her name tastes sweet on my tongue. Again, I am reminded that she has no magic. And yet her entire existence feels magical.

“Hmm?” She sighs the sound, nestling against me.

“I really like coming home to you.” I murmur the words. She is stroking my thighs with her soft hands.

It is suddenly very difficult to focus.

“Well,” she replies. “I really don’t like waiting for you to come home.”

I laugh out loud, pulling away from her. Then, taking her chin between my hands, I kiss her.

The kiss is hesitant at first. It is simply a ‘getting to know you again’ kiss. You have been gone for weeks you know. I remind myself.

But then the kiss deepens.

And suddenly the kiss is a ‘glad to have you back’ kiss.