Page 13 of The Shadow Fae Rhapsody (Elven Fantasy Romance #3)

Chapter 12 Svenn

T here is a bitter chill in the outside air as I walk along the terrace. I take a long swig of the bottle to calm my nerves.

I shouldn’t have come.

This was Rhianelle’s attempt to win those nobles. The odds had been against her as they have been from the start, but she perseveres. She did her best to maneuver the schemes at court and all that effort goes to the gutter.

I’m certain I’ve ruined everything for her. I lean against the cold pillar and lose a long breath.

What the fuck am I doing?

I brought nothing but chaos to her ordered life. A myriad of strange emotions flare in my chest. I nurse the bottle once again, hoping the ale can smother them.

Guilt floods my chest like a broken dam.

I lost control and I regret it.

A leaf from one of the night flowers crawling on the parapet grazes my hand. Their sweet scent brings a kind of comfort to me. Nothing can assuage this guilt in my chest, but I will admit they are glorious to look at. The bright red and white petals create a beautiful contrast against the dark panel of the roofed terrace. I lean over to appreciate one of the roses and my throat goes dry. The pattern on the vases is unbelievably familiar… It takes a heartbeat for the sight to settle, and I finally recognize them.

By the devil… these blooming flowers are the same desiccated plants Rhianelle had moved weeks ago with Coinneach.

Interspersed among the pots of innocent night flowers are chrysanthemums, roses, dahlias, and asters of every color. I didn’t know what they were back when they were withered and dying. But Rhianelle knew… I can tell by the way Nel arranged these vases she saw them for what they are.

The wonder blows me away, stealing my breath. I keep sniffing the rose, pleasantly surprise by the solace its warm fragrance brings.

Nel’s small act of kindness may seem meaningless at first, but it has blossomed into something beautiful. I close my eyes, trapping this innocent scent of life in my lungs.

Rhianelle is good.

A lovely, innocent little flower. She was surrounded by wolves in that hall. I remember the power play and wicked schemes back in my court with my brothers. I fucking hate it. The Elven council appears to be much a more poisonous court than ours. I understand now why my wife would always come back exhausted after those meetings. The girl has a target aimed at her back constantly.

‘You still owe seventy-seven strikes to the gods.’

Anger burns through me like acid. I know the queen does not have absolute power, but to disrespect her like that… They’re planning on bringing her back to the capital to punish her. I’ll kill every one of them before they can take a single step towards Rhianelle.

‘Your status in the eyes of our temple is no different from a tavern wench.’

Wrath rises in me once again like the tide.

We should have killed him, Coinneach whispers, eager to eliminate the bastard once and for all.

What if Nel becomes scared of us? The black direwolf whines.

I nearly empty half the bottle just to drown their argument in my head.

“Svenn?”

There’s no mistaking the owner of the sweet voice the moment her delicious scent fills my lungs. Rhianelle appears at the other end of the patio, her dress rustling on the warm tiles. Her knights and the Grimsbane must be livid.

She’s sneaked away from them yet again with her silent steps.

“Are you alright?” she asks, closing the distance between us in her small stride.

That inexplicable warmth returns to my chest. Nel is here to check on me. Not the bastard with the big mouth who’s probably fighting for his life.

Me.

Rhianelle takes her place beside me, leaning over the balcony.

“There are Hlaryan elves in the room and Lord Rivtarr is going to be fine. They will probably be able to reattach the… tongue.”

“They can do that?” I arch a brow, annoyance creeping down my spine. Eyepatch is still one eye short, so here’s to hoping their healer’s medical prowess isn’t all that good.

“The servants of Anastarros are capable of restoring torn limbs during the war. I’m sure the tongue is no issue for them,” Rhianelle answers with a gentle smile of assurance, failing to catch my vile wish.

“Why do they get to talk to you like that?” I ask her. Rage reignites in my vein as I recall the bastard’s audacity.

Rhianelle’s mouth turns down at the corners and her bright eyes dim a little.

“The Aeonians don’t trust me and my court is divided. There are those who doubt every decision I make,” she says, her voice a whisper.

Something in me tugs at her words.

“I didn’t mean to put you through this. Is what Lord Rivtarr said about the food true?” she asks, her voice wavering. “That they taste like dirt?”

Her amethyst eyes sparkle in the dark like stars, waiting for my answer. I don’t think I’m capable of lying to her while looking into them, so I look away.

I feel a sudden tug on my arm. “Svenn, please tell me.”

Rhianelle will not let this go.

“I need to know,” she asks again, pulling my face to look at her. Sheer determination colors her features and I know there is nothing stopping her from the truth.

I take another sip from the bottle before staring down at her. Perhaps it’s the heat in her eyes, perhaps it’s the dress, or the fact that she had stolen a kiss from me first in the evening.

I raise her chin and lean down until our eyebrows touch. “It tastes like this.”

I brush my lips against hers, parting them softly. It’s just a feather-light flick of the tongue as I pass what remains of the wine into her mouth, but the thrill of it runs deep in my veins. The pulsating heat sears through each nerve ending. I forgot how intoxicating she is. I want to savor her a moment longer.

But I know I shouldn’t.

I force myself to part from her.

Rhianelle blinks and licks her lips. The innocent movement sends tingles straight to my cock.

“The wine tasted like wine?” she asks, her sweet breath ghosting my face.

I nod.

Fuck, I need to stop fixating on those gorgeous lips or else I’ll claim them again.

I clear my throat, focusing myself on the conversation instead of our proximity. “Fermented drinks are the only exception we’re granted. Your vampire expert was right. The rest taste as dry as the earth.”

Silence follows my revelation. Rhianelle doesn’t say anything. She simply stares at me, her eyes wide and nervous. The ticking thing in my chest goes into free fall the longer she keeps it up.

It’s becoming damn near terrifying.

Shit.

It’s the kiss…

I shouldn’t have done that. Whatever the fuck happened to controlling my impulses so I can win her? It’s too soon. She needs more time.

But I wanted to kiss her. Needed to.

Maybe I’ve screwed it all to hell.

Rhianelle swallows and her eyes start to glaze.

“Svenn… I’ve been feeding you potatoes and biscuits,” she whispers with a tremble. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

I tilt my head and stare at her in confusion.

It’s best to answer her with the truth. “Because you always look so happy when I eat them.”

She is silent for another beat. Her eyes find mine and her chest heaves, grazing against my body. We’re too damn close for appropriate, but she makes no move to pull away. Neither do I.

The air between us changes abruptly. I can hear her pulse fluttering in anticipation.

Her cheeks are flushed as she stares up at me. “I didn’t quite taste it. Can we try that again?”

My rusty brain takes a while to grasp that question. It is only when she lifts her head to me, parting her lips, that the demand finally clicks in my head.

Rhianelle wants a kiss.

My mouth crashes against hers and I devour her. The kiss is raw, ravenous, and completely out of control. I bring her closer to me, my fingers tangling in the waves of her hair. Her response is just as frenzied as mine. I love the soft, desperate sound she makes as she surrenders to my savage claiming.

I move my hands to her thighs, lifting her to perch on the cool marbled bannister without breaking the kiss. Her long legs curl around me, raising her dress to indecent height.

Rhianelle doesn’t hesitate to take what she wants from me. Her lips move skillfully with mine, gentle, passionate, and imploring. God, she is so good at this. She tastes like my downfall and damnation, yet I still can’t get enough. I want to kiss her all night, for the rest of fucking eternity.

I break the kiss, needing to look at her.

“You should tell me to stop,” I mutter, my own voice rough and low.

“Don’t stop please,” she pleads, her cheeks turning into the dark red shade that I adore.

I tug her towards me and she gasps. “Then you can’t blame me for whatever happens next.”

“I won’t,” she promises. Her body arches against mine, pressing into the aching hardness behind my breeches. The growl that climbs its way out of my throat is feral.

I take a moment to appreciate this perfect, precious thing in my arms. The girl gives me the kind of warmth I never knew existed.

“Svenn, again please,” she begs, and I am so fucking done for. I band an arm around her waist, grinding her against me. A breathy moan escapes her lips.

That’s it. I want her to feel what she’s doing to me.

Nel tows me down desperately to claim my lips. Her kiss this time is rough, raw, and laced with fear. She grips my tunic, fisting it firmly in her hand. It’s like she’s afraid that I might run away.

I’m not going anywhere, little fawn.

Time slows to a crawl as I lose myself in her. She slides her hand over my abdomen. It takes everything in me not to come right then and there. I’m not sure how we’re getting out of here without me ripping her dress off.

My head snaps at the sudden disturbance. I listen closely, the rest of my senses sharpening. True fear strikes me for the first since I had been awakened.

The sentries on the watchtower meander aimlessly on their post. Their elven hearing fail to detect the incoming menace, but in a few seconds they will.

And so will this sweet queen.

Perhaps this is it. The final push for Rhianelle to descend into the madness of Rhunhraefn.

I look at her flushed face, still drunk on our kiss.

It’s not fair… I can’t lose her. Not like this. Not right now.

I wrap my arms around her and bury my face in the nape of her neck. I kiss the curve of her shoulder, her forehead, her eyes, the tip of her nose and she giggles.

“Don’t go into the hall,” I whisper the request in her ear. Beg.

“I wasn’t planning on going back,” she says unabashedly, stroking my hair with her soft hand, tugging it at the roots. I love this newfound fierceness in her.

It’s such a shame that…

The thumping of hooves draws closer and the guards are finally alert. I hold Rhianelle tightly in my arms, knowing that she might be stolen from me at any second.

“What the hell is that?” one of the sentries asks, fear laden in his voice.

Rhianelle’s ears perk, twitching to the commotion.

“Something is wrong,” she mutters, moving back towards the chamber in a haste. “Come, Svenn.”

I trail behind her, dread filling every step.

Chatter ceases in the hall, and the nobles swivel their head towards the sound. Tall One makes his way towards Rhianelle, a heavy shield in his hand.

“What’s going on, Darstan?” she asks him. The knight is almost as mystified as her. He steers her towards the wall, purely out of instinct.

Smart, but it’s not enough.

“Get down!” Chaos descends into the hall as soon as Tall One says those words.

Glasses shatter all around us, but of course Rhianelle doesn’t get to see all of this as I envelope her with my wings. She sure as hell doesn’t get to see the flying heads and limbs crashing from the towering window panel. All at once, people run for their lives. Dead corpses pour into the hall like rain. They land on the silverwares and the platters of untouched food. It’s a vision of hell, unfit for the eyes of my little fawn.

Screams of shock and horror tear through the air in the hall.

“What’s happening?” Rhianelle asks frantically, trying to peel the membrane of my wings for a way out.I wish I can cover her nose from the stench of blood and rotten body parts.

“Svenn, let me out,” she begs.

A miserable sort of silence falls in the room. The nobles slowly gather themselves from the terror. Then the wailings and cries of despair begin. I wait for everything to settle before releasing Nel.

My heart twists the moment I lift my wings.

Eyepatch studies the damage in the chamber and the dead bodies. His face quickly grows intense, a crack in his usual calm exterior.

“A catapult alone shouldn’t have been able to have this range,” he comments.

Red nods, agreeing with him. “Orcs on Asterdust are truly something else.”

I tune out the commotion and fix my gaze on the Elven Queen as she walks to the centre of the hall. She blanches at the sight of the severed heads rolling on the marble floor. Her entourage is all over her, making sure she’s unharmed. I should be with her too, but there is nothing I can do to spare her from this pain.

Someone is relaying the full incident of the attack to her, how the orcs slaughtered all the Valorians messengers and some of the prisoners.

“I don’t understand…” she mutters with her eyes glazed. “Why would they do this?”

“Get her out of here,” I hear Eyepatch bark to Tall One before heading out to chase after the orcs. Red and Shade slip from the corner of the room to join him in the hunting party.

Her voice wavers as she continues to speak.“Send word for the chieftain from the nearby orkan villages to be careful. They have Asterdust.”

“That is against the Aeonian’s ruling—” a young squire tries to correct her before the lord of the castle places a firm hand on his shoulder.

“The Queen is absolutely right. They should be prepared. I will take responsibility for the message.” He bows respectfully and takes his leave.

Rumblings resonate from the crowd upon his departure. I hate to admit it, but Eyepatch was damn right. Rhianelle shouldn’t be here in the open. She still appears lost and confused as her towering knight approaches her.

“Wait, Darstan.” A small, broken voice comes out of her throat. “We must tend to the fallen.”

I watch numbly as the girl fishes for a dismembered head from underneath the long dining table. The guests in the hall fall silent as they regard her. Slowly, they follow in her example and start gathering the dead bodies. Despite the devastation written on Rhianelle’s face, she delivers a solemn prayer for each victim, be it elves, orcs, fae, or dwarves, before they are sent to the temple.

“Clear them a safe path and may they find peace in their next journey,” she completes the last recitation from the elven holy scriptures.

Rhianelle may masquerade as this calm anchor for the people to hold on to, but I know her secret tells. Judging by the tremor in her voice, the girl is on the verge of crying. I move towards her as soon as the ritual ends and so does her tall knight.

“None of the body parts belong to the Maiden of Arawynn,” he says in a single breath before we reach Rhianelle.

Her friend is not among the dead here.

I silently thank the seven devils for that. Hopefully that will bring some comfort to my little fawn.

“We need to leave now,” Tall One tells her and she merely nods without emotion. Nel is staring into the distant, wide-eyed as her knight fetches her to her room. I follow their heels silently.

The guy is explaining the extensive detail of her security, the measures they have taken to keep the city and its people safe, but I’m not sure Rhianelle is listening. Her posture and her eyes appear so wrong that I fear something inside her has broken.

“I’ll be right outside if you need me,” Tall One tells her the moment we reach her bedchamber.

“Please go home and get some rest, Darstan. I’m all right,” she says, still keeping up a brave front to convince him.

Her longest serving knight exchanges a look with me.

She is not all right, he seems to say.

I nod curtly to him, giving the guy a cue that I’m well aware of it. He leaves us reluctantly, his brows wrinkling in a deep frown. I shut the door behind us and focus on her.

Rhianelle has her back turned from me as she removes every jewelry and adornment, placing them carefully on the dressing table out of habit.

“I need to use the washroom for a while,” she says, moving silently across the room like a lifeless wraith. She leaves the door open, but I know it’s not an invitation. The girl knows I’m anxious and wants to give me some assurance. She’s still thinking of others in this terrible time.

My attention bounces back to her the moment she reenters the room. It takes her longer to prepare herself for bed tonight. Once she is done dressing, she simply settles on the bed as quiet as a mouse. Her ears droop and her eyes glisten as she lowers her gaze to the floor, too shaken up to speak. That look utterly guts me from where I stand, and I finally approach her.

“Nel…” I begin, kneeling on the floor in front of her.

I gather her hands into mine, squeezing them to remind her I’m here.

There’s no need to hide from me.

Slowly, Rhianelle’s calm High Elf mask cracks. Her soft eyelids flutter, sending the tears down her smooth cheek. She has been holding them since the rites.

I let her cry her little heart out.

“I’m a terrible person,” she whispers, her voice barely audible. “Every time I checked those bodies earlier, I was glad none of them were Blaire’s.”

I don’t think there’s anything wrong with the relief she felt, but I know Rhianelle’s mind operates differently from mine.

I should comfort her, tell her that her friend is going to be all right, but there is no guarantee of that. I hold my tongue for fear of saying the wrong thing.

“It’s starting, Svenn,” she mutters, her lips trembling. “This is it. We’re going to war.”

I hear the defeat in her voice.

I care little for elven politics. But I keep listening because I care for her.

“Tell me, what can I do for you?” I ask. Her wellbeing is the only thing keeping me from going ballistic.

She forces a faint smile for me. “You can stop worrying for me. I’ll be better in the morning.”

Nel wipes her remaining tears and slides underneath the blanket. I tuck her gently, making sure she’s comfortable and warm.

“Night… Svenn,” she mutters, curling up on her side. As always, the girl leaves a space for me. She knows I’ll climb into the bed later.

“Goodnight, Rhianelle.”

Unlike most nights when she sneakily stays awake while closing her eyes just to snuggle with me, sleep claims her fast tonight. I keep kneeling at her side long after her breathing evens out.

Her night terrors will definitely haunt Rhianelle tonight after that wretched experience. I will have to restrain her from hurting herself.

The silence of the night stretches for a small eternity as I wait for her demons to arrive… but her rumblings aren’t violent at all.

They’re worse.

Her frail frame trembles in the dark, quivering with every sharp little gasp. There is only so much sorrow a person can contain before they start falling apart. The small tremors continue wrecking through her body, as if her trapped emotions are searching for a way out.

A fiery flame burns in my guts when I see it for what it is.

Rhianelle is crying in her sleep.

I much prefer the nightmares where she is fighting and punching. Right now, she appears as fragile as a dandelion, scattering at the most delicate of touches. A fierce protectiveness triggers inside of me at the sight of her vulnerability.

My gaze lowers to the Rhunhraefn’s mark etched on her belly. Rhianelle is now at her lowest, the bottom of the abyss. It’s the perfect opportunity for the curse to influence her. I’ve decided that if the vile thing takes hold of her, I would hold no grudge. I’d willingly carved out my own heart if she so much asks me to.

I’m prepared for it.

Yet no desperate command or vicious orders arrive. Even if the curse is weakened, its decay should have been enough to corrupt the girl when she is out of her mind afraid. Once again, I’m mystified by little fawn’s resilience.

Another bout of shivers ripples through her. I run my fingers through her hair to soothe her. She curls into a fetal position underneath the blanket at the touch, her muscles relaxing.

The girl who was cheerful and excited for her birthday celebration this morning is now reduced to this shattered mess. I feel the unfairness of it all roaring in my veins like a violent hurricane.

“Svenn…” Rhianelle startles a little, then settles right back into her sleep like a wary small prey in the forest.

I heave a long breath and rest my forehead against hers. In the cold silence of the night, I vow a promise to the Elf Queen.