Page 29 of The Shadow Fae Rhapsody (Elven Fantasy Romance #3)

Chapter 28 Rhianelle

I sit quietly on the bed in the Hlaryan elves’ tent as Lady Deirdre heals the damage I sustained from the battle. The blessings of Anastarros flowing from her warms every inch of my body, repairing and piecing every nerve and muscle. I wish she could fix the hurting in my chest too.

“It’s done,” Lady Deirdre says, stroking my hair. “There’s no concussion but I’d like to keep you for observation.”

Keep me? I can’t stay. How can I sit still when my heart is trying to pound its way out of my chest to go to Svenn? The expert healer instructs one of her apprentices to look after me.

“Shall I call for your knights, Your Highness?” Taryn asks me, the signs of exhaustion showing on her face from all the work she’s been doing all day.

“That’s all right,” I say, leaning on the bed.

She smiles and moves to the next bed to help the other soldiers from the support troop. Most only suffer minor cuts and bruises. Svenn spared them from a terrible fate, and I rewarded him with a dagger to the heart.

My chest is heavy with regret. The longing and urge to run to him grow stronger.

“You can’t go to the celebration square! I still need to rule out for internal bleeding!” Taryn is in argument with Lady Eilidh who refuses to stay in bed.

This is my chance.

I lift my cape up and sneak out from the tent silently. No one notices my departure, not even the sharp-eyed matron. I hurry along the walls and keep myself in the shadows to avoid attention.

Garrett is tending to his wound. Svenn will be all right. I repeat the same words over and over in my head to comfort my heart.

Bells ring over the city, signifying our win. I debate between using my hands to cover my ears from the sound or my face from the smell of innards sprawling the ground.

“Can’t believe the battle is over in less than a day,” a knight mutters to his peer.

I hide behind the craggy wall from the band of soldiers.

“I thought we’d have to siege the fortress for months and starve them like we did to the dwarves in the north,” his friend replies. “This is way better. I just want to go home.”

More footsteps follow and fade. I wait until the coast is clear before stepping out into the open again.

I hasten my pace on the cobbled gray path, riddled with craters and debris. The holes remind me of the hollowness in my heart and it grows bigger the longer I am apart from Svenn. I need to get to him fast. I’m not sure which path to take, but the guys from the tent earlier were discussing a holding cell at the east wing of the fortress.

“You lying piece of shit!” I recognize that familiar voice.

I peer from the stone walls to find Rainer kneeling on the ground. Fresh from battle, my uncle looks like a terrifying underworld conqueror. But his war is not done yet. The clanking of his shoulder plate accentuates every punch he delivers to his opponent. Sweat trickles down his temple over his harsh labor.

Uncle?

Dread stabs my heart like a dagger. He is beating a dwarf half to death. Blood splatters from the creature’s unrecognizable face.

I scramble towards my uncle to grab his hand. “Stop this!”

An icy wind greets me, hurtling my body to the wall. My ribs slam over the hard surface on impact and pain slices into my body in waves.

“Uncle, it’s me!” I manage with a strangled breath.

Rainer pushes a hand through his wayward silver hair, his piercing eyes flick towards me. His usual unperturbed calm is replaced by this unhinged look.

I back away nervously.

He’s staring at me like I’m a stranger. I was so caught up in the whirlwind of my own emotion that I didn’t notice those eyes. They’re hollow and unfocussed.

Rainer is possessed by the Asterdust.

A vein pulses in his jaw.

“Stop her.” The order from his lips is brief and quiet.

A blur of movement comes from behind me but I evade the strike quickly.

“Well, well. What do we have here?” A deep voice owns my attention.

It belongs to Catnip.

Strapped in his light black armor and a demonic mask like Shade, he looks more lethal than usual with the blood splattered on his face. Beside him are Rooster, Phantom, and two others whose names I don’t even know. They’re the best and the worst of my uncle’s Grimsbane.

And just like him, they’re all intoxicated…

“What did the Silverra mean when he said stop her?” Rooster asks curiously.

“Stop her movement, stop her breathing, stop her heart,” another voice replies, more carefree.

I can hardly see their features clearly. My eyes are foggy from that hit by Rainer earlier.

Phantom cracks his neck both ways before approaching. “Who cares? Orders are orders.”

“I am not the enemy!” I tell them desperately. Like the orcs in the battlefield from earlier, these assassins can’t seem to see reason in this state. Their eyes are red from the drug they took.

Rooster growls like a wild animal. He lunges towards me, throwing his wild punches without hesitation. I manage to block all his hits, but I know he’s herding me towards the rest of his pack.

The other five are about to strike. I measure their stances from my blurry eyes. I miscalculated and it cost me. Phantom’s metal gauntlet rattles as it meets with my ribs.

I land a blow to Rooster’s face, but not quick enough to block his pointed boot from digging into my shin. His knee meets my gut and I choke on empty air. I see stars before I stumble forward to the ground. One of the Grimsbanes sits on top of my body. My lungs feel crushed by his weight.

Promise me you won’t throw yourself in harm’s way again.

Svenn’s words ring in my head at this very last moment. I was brash and reckless, and now I pay the price.

But I never thought this would happen. My eyes glaze to the male who keeps on punching the helpless dwarf on the ground.

“Help me…” I beg to my uncle.

Rainer is my guardian, my protector. He has always shielded me from danger.

“Finish her,” the guy pinning me down says.

Phantom taps his boot on the ground. A flash of metallic sheen—a thin blade withdraws from the tip of his shoe.

He’s aiming it straight for my neck.

I’m going to die.

In the fraction of a second before my death, a memory flashes across my mind.

I’ll come back to you.

I told that to Svenn earlier. Tears swim in my eyes over my unfulfilled promise. My body makes one final effort to move, to rise.

The action is futile.

I don’t want to die.

Suddenly, the male sitting on top of me is whisked away like petals on a windy day. I hear a couple of grunts and groans until a voice pierces through the haze of my mind. “Can you stand?”

Shade’s smoky gray eyes meet mine. I take his offered hand and rises to my feet.

“You know, once the Silverra comes to his senses, he’ll kill you for hurting his niece,” Shade mutters to his fellow Grimsbanes, his tone hollow.

Rooster barks a laugh. “He won’t know we’re the ones who hurt her. We’ll just say it was him who did it.”

“Then we’ll watch him go into a spiral and take everything in his possession,” Catnip says with a nonchalant tone.

I ignore the searing pain over the side of my chest and step beside Shade.

“I still have some fight in me.” I take a stance, keeping my feet steady.

“Six to two, doesn’t seem like a fair fight,” Rooster laughs.

“It sure isn’t. You need at least another dozen to fight us,” Shade mutters without emotion.

Despite his brave counter, he glances at me briefly to see if I’m good. I nod in affirmation of him. We’ve been through worse odds in the sewers against those rats.

“Besides, it’s three against six,” Shade suddenly adds.

A low, thunderous growl rattles behind me. Larger than Briallen, with glossy fur and battle scars all over its body, the predator prowls closer. Goosebumps erupt on my skin when I feel his fur bristling on my skin.

The Grimsbanes finally show signs of panic at the sight of the wolf. Shade uses their disarray for a chance to attack. He lunges towards them without hesitation. I follow in his steps.

It takes all my focus, all my strength to raise the curseless dagger again. But thanks to my endurance training with Svenn, I can do it. Shade and the wolf work really well with my skill, covering my openings and blind spots.

“We need to wake your uncle,” Shade grunts, narrowly evading Catnip’s smooth golden blade. “He’s the Silverra. The guild has entrusted us to him. Even in their heightened state, the Grimsbane will abide to his command.”

Rainer is still pummeling the dwarf to death, the wild hatred in his eyes simmering. I don’t know if it’s the drug or the heat of battle, but he has totally lost it.

“As his servant, I can’t hurt or hit him,” Shade says, shaking his head.

I blink in understanding. It has to be me.

“Uncle!” I call to him.

He whirls to me.

The cold wrath in his face is the same one he had when he learned that Aerin is gone from this world. Pain circles my heart as I strike. He evades my attack easily, swerving to his left. I don’t stop the assault, slamming all my weight and force with every hit.

This is the person who raised me, who released me from my shackles.

Any other day, I would have never have won against the Silver Stag of the East. But my uncle is purely enslaved to the Asterdust, his mind infiltrated. I leave an opening to my left and he falls right at it like a clueless novice.

I ball my fist and punch him straight in his face. My knuckles throb but I don’t stop. I deliver him a second and third blow until he tumbles to the ground.

I’m about to bring the wrath of a fourth strike, but it stalls in the air. Rainer’s cloudy eyes finally regain its focus.

Good.

I can’t have him fainting on me.

“Rhianelle?” he mutters in a daze.

“You need to hold off those five!” I quickly talk sense into him.

His gaze studies the surrounding like someone who had just been woken from a deep sleep.

“Stop!” Rainer commands sharply. Like dolls, all the Grimsbanes cease moving, including Shade.

“Get out of here,” he rasps.

The panic clawing under my ribcage eases the moment the five Grimsbanes take flight. I don’t let my guard down, but I think Rainer must have some vague understanding of what happened now. He told all the assassins to go. Everyone but Shade.

My uncle stares at me, his pupils blown wide with shame and confusion.

“It’s all a misunderstanding.” Rainer’s gaze moves to the dwarf lying over a pile of rubble. “This creature wouldn’t tell me where your mother is—”

He stops mid-sentence. Dread and cold realization dawn on his stricken face.

Yes, Mother is long dead, Uncle.

I can see the pain that haunt his features, haunt his heart.

“Leave,” I say. A fractured sound escapes my throat following that request.

“Rhia—”

“Leave before the Elders order your execution. Leave before they make me watch it.” I wipe the tears from my eyes with the back of my hand. The Aeonians would probably command me to deliver the judgement with my sword.

Guilt flashes in his eyes as he stares at me brokenly. He doesn’t fight it when Shade takes his hand to administer a sleeping potion. “Silverra, allow me.”

My knees crumble to the ground as soon as my uncle drifts to sleep.

“That should do it,” Shade mutters once Rainer closes his eyes completely. The large black wolf whines beside me, sniffing on my hair. I inhale deeply at the ticklish sensation of his breath and wet nose.The movement brings pain to my ribs.

“Good job, boy.” I ruffle his head.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Shade shakes his head. “He’s an elf.”

“I know,” I say briefly. An elf and a friend.

Shade kneels beside me to check on my wounds. “You’re injured—”

“I’ll be all right.” I exhale slowly, controlling my breathing.

“Take my uncle and the intoxicated Grimsbanes away from the encampment until they recover,” I plead to the assassin. “If anyone sees their eyes… The Aeonians will use this against my house. Volundr will lose our seat in the council.”

Shade is still hesitant to leave me. So is the wolf.

“Please, lives are at stake,” I beg him again.

He nods in understanding.

The wolf nuzzles his head to me before leaving with the assassin.

I wait until they are out of sight before my body crumples from the excruciating pain. I cough up bits of blood. The pain is crippling and mind numbing. I can barely move a muscle. But I fight back the agony and crawl myself to the injured dwarf.

My heart drops in my chest, looking at his battered face. How could Rainer do this?

I find the dwarf watching me carefully. The hatred on his face is plain, cold, and focussed.

“You lot deserved to rot in the vilest pit.” He spits, gurgling the blood pooling in his mouth.

I’m completely spent and devoid of blessings. I don’t dare enter the realms of the gods in my vulnerable state. The only thing I can do is gather the Anastarros blessings Lady Deirdre had given me earlier. I hover my hand over his chest and pass it all into the dwarf.

“What are you doing?” he asks with revulsion.

“Healing you,” I tell him. I’m clinging to the last shred of blessings I have with desperation.

The intensity in his face does not falter. “This changes nothing. Darvan Mountain will never forgive you for what you did to us.”

I don’t dare make a comment on his remark. “Let me set your jaw.”

He barely winces with my maneuver, but I know it has to be painful. My uncle did this to him. The guilt has my mind going numb for a moment. I swallow dryly and focus my consciousness into channelling the god’s will. Burning sensations shoot from my palms to my chest with every delivered blessing. The God of Healing’s will refuses to leave me when I begin taking from myself but I force them out. I keep going despite my joints and muscles feel as though they had been torn loose. I need to fix him. I need to make it better. I need to—

I feel an overly broad, calloused hand over mine.

“It’s just cuts and bruises,” the dwarf grunts. “You can stop now. Save some energy for yourself, young elfling.”

I’m surprised and a little scared how this dwarf takes one look at me and knows that I haven’t Ascended.

He spits out a tooth and straightens to sit up. “Your injuries look worse than mine. I don’t have any healing technique to help you.”

“That’s all right.” I breathe against the pain rippling my ribs.

I flick a look at the red-haired dwarf before me. He is dressed plainly in a brown tabard, covered with a vest and a copper-colored cloak instead of an armor. This dwarf may not be a warrior, but if he is to survive, he will need a weapon to get out of this chaos.

“You should take this.” I offer him the white dagger in my possession. It’s only right I return to him a relic of his people.

The dwarf backs several steps. He gazes at the weapon with horror in his eyes. “How did you have this in your possession?”

“You don’t have to worry. I purified it earlier,” I quickly reply before he becomes more afraid.

“You did what…?” he asks. The shock in his voice mirrors the one playing on his face.

A handful of seconds passes. The male slowly creeps towards the dagger, studying the blade with gleaming eyes.

“It is a curse that took our sorcerers two hundred years to ferment in the dark mountains of Huruk.” He turns to me, looking at me up and down. “And you said you cleansed it…?”

I merely nod.

His lips part with awe and astonishment. “We presented the daggers to trick the whore queen who took our mountain. Too bad Rhianelle and her family died before she can succumb to our trap.”

The dwarf doesn’t seem to know that he is talking about my mother. He studies me for a long moment. “So, there is still someone pure-hearted among the elves.”

It’s not so much about being pure, I almost tell the dwarf. I just accepted myself for—

A sharp pain spears through my chest.

It rakes over my back down to my spine like the talons of some dark beast. The dwarf pats my back as the agonizing sensation moves through me. Concern touches his expression. “I saw some of your healers helping my people at the west tower. I’ll go get them. Wait here.”

I grab his vest, shaking my head desperately. “Don’t do that, please. I need to see him.”

He throws a curious look at me. I rally every last bit of energy I have left to stand.

Useless legs, move forward please, I beg.

“Where are you going, child?” the dwarf presses, chasing after me.

“I must find him,” I mutter with shaky breaths. My knees suddenly buckle from the exhaustion.

Oh no. No. No.

Tears prickle my eyes but I hold them as best as I can. “He needs to know I didn’t mean to hurt him.”

The sadness settles and thickens in my chest. Svenn’s my mate and I stabbed him in the heart.

Yes, he’s my mate.

The reminder overshadows my pain and I make another attempt to rise.

A gentle sigh leaves the dwarf. He looks at me with compassion and sympathy. “This person of yours, where can we find him?”

My person.

I force myself to breathe. The small act feels like an enormous effort.

“I don’t know. He’s probably with the other prisoners of war.” My voice is ripped raw from the sorrow in my chest.

“The holding cell, perhaps?” he asks, wiping dried blood over his forehead. “I happen to know where that is. Come with me.”

He places an arm around my waist and lifts me to my feet easily. I lean my weight on his stocky body, though I have no idea why he is helping me. The chance of being spotted is high, especially when we’re both injured and exhausted. But the dwarf seems to know his path well. We walk down the cobbled steps together in silence, carefully evading the soldiers and infantries.

“Wait,” the dwarf whispers, halting our journey and hiding us into the shadows. Thudding footfalls resound over the gatehouse tunnel. I blink silently as I watch several armed Valorian knights marching in the dark. My heart thunders in earnest at the sight of blood dripping from the tip of their weapons. Fresh killings… but haven’t we won the war already? The pain in my ribs crowds my mind and all thoughts of the Valorians disappear.

Peering in all directions, my companion pauses and check for a clear path. When we neither see nor hear anything, he resumes our course, hurrying with care. This dwarf is attentive and vigilant and yet he was caught by my uncle and his Grimsbane. I feel terrible all over again.

“We’re here,” he says, taking a long breath. I follow him into the double storey structure framed by two inner towers. The air inside the prison is as chilled as the outside with an added stagnant quality to it.

Precious, delicate hope flutters in my chest at the sight of the metallic containers. It meets a swift death when I see no one inside the cages. I suppose that’s a good thing. I can’t imagine anyone imprisoned in these harsh conditions, even temporarily.

The dwarf leaves me to comb through the area, checking the cells one by one.

“They must have taken all the prisoners to your camp,” he surmises.

“It’s possible…” I mutter.

Aelfric did say he’ll bring Svenn to our tent. I should have just waited like he told me. But if I did, I would have never met this dwarf. He would have been beaten to death and Rainer would be caught using Asterdust.

I realize I don’t even know my new companion’s name.

After what Rainer did to him and his assistance to get me here, it is only right that I return the favor.

“Master dwarf. I can sneak you out of the city gates,” I say to him.

A tight smile crosses his lips at my offer. “I won’t make it past the field or the woods. Your Valorian cultists kill those who flee for sport. They would go on horseback and spear the survivors like it’s a fox hunt.”

“The Aeonians’ influence has diminished. They won’t be able to do that—” I cough out through my pain.

“Our kind have been enemies for a long time. Thousands of years of blood war,” the dwarf says, his dark gaze weighing on mine. “That’s not something that can easily be erased.”

A brutal truth. Yet, I keep wishing…

“It’s safer for me to surrender myself.” He lifts his gaze skyward and sighs. “You will get in trouble if you release me, little elfling.”

This dwarf does not know that I am the Queen of Aelfheim.

“No, I won’t.” I shake my head. A rush of pain follows the small movement.

The dwarf looks legitimately concerned, his brows furrowing. He stares at me for a long time, long enough for me to wonder on his sudden silence. His chest rises with a deep, heavy breath. “You will be in trouble little elfling because I am Hrólfr Dravorin, son of Durakain.”

The temperature around us seems to have dropped at the revelation. I’m certain the blood in my veins has become frozen from the cold. Horror seizes me as the name echoes over and over in my mind.

Hrólfr Dravorin?

Rainer once said, ‘Monsters are not born but created in the embers of war.’

I now stand before one such monsters.

A warrior among Eirik’s rank, one of his Masters of the Hunt. The one responsible for the Dunrovin tragedy and with it the death of thousands of elves in the north. This is the legendary dwarven lord who put the long scar on my mother’s chest.

“Are you well enough to walk on your own?” he asks, his voice straining with concern.

There is a stretch of silence as I just stare at him with horror. I can hardly manage a nod from the overwhelming fear. I want to say something, but the air is lodged in my throat.

The dwarf’s stormy eyes meet mine in the dark. He seems to notice my sudden change and his face softens. “I’ll take my leave now, young elf.”

He’s leaving…

I’m terrified to the bones, but I don’t wish him any harm. I fight against the dread compressing my chest.

“Find the knights with hawk crests or banners,” I blurt out, finally having the courage to speak. “Ask them to take you to Lord Wesley. He will do right by you.”

Hrólfr Dravorin stares at me with an unreadable expression. He gives a warm parting smile and nods. “Until we meet again.”

I wait several beats until he is gone before I start making my way out of Tavan Fortress. My knees threaten to buckle several times but I keep walking. And walking and walking. Seconds bleed into minutes and minutes into hours until everything is a blur around me. I lift my cape and move slowly out of the threshold of the dwarven gate. No one notices me as I tread through the field of red.

Embers dance around me, like flower petals after a revelry. They fall on the bodies lying on the ground. I turn away from the gruesome sight. This horrific battle is the first of many to come. I know a Great War is upon us.

The hair on the back of my neck suddenly prickles. I raise my sword in defense and whirl around on pure instinct.

“Hey, it’s just me.” Cedwyn raises his unarmed hands.

I slowly exhale a breath of relief at the sight of the squire with his horse and wagon.His leather armor and chain vest are pristine without dust and blood. I’m glad the gods have chosen to spare him from the worst of the battle.

“The generals told me to gather these weapons to make trophies,” he grumbles. “I hate it. I want to join their victory celebration instead.”

The boy slumps his shoulders, frustrated over his task.

“Then go on and join them,” I say with a forced smile. I stand a little straighter so the squire is oblivious to my injury.

No one can know about Rainer and the Asterdust. The Aeonians will launch an investigation and prosecute my house.

Cedwyn stares at me for a moment. “Are you all right, Your Highness?”

“I’m fine,” I reply curtly.

“Some rumors whisper of how you took on five orkan mages all on your own.” Shadows darken his face at the compliment. “A legend in the making, just like your mother.”

Something about that tone in his voice makes my blood chill. It’s just the young squire and yet I feel like a wounded prey being circled by a hyena.

I must be out of my mind.

The young knight resumes collecting the blades into his wagon, whistling and humming a strange tune. A sudden unease trickles down my spine.

Be careful, Rhianelle, the Un warns me.

I’m in too much pain to focus on their whispering.

“May I hitch a ride with you back to camp?” I ask the boy.

Cedwyn pauses on his task, his eyes sliding back to me. His mouth parts with a slight disbelief.

“Shouldn’t you be celebrating with your war generals?” he asks, catching me in his gaze. “They’re singing praises and glory in your name over at the bailey.”

I glance at the stain of death around us. This is nothing worth cheering.

“If you don’t go to the celebration, the Aeonians will take credit for this remarkable victory.” I note a spark of amusement in his tone.

“I don’t care,” I say.

“Your lost.”

I’m not sure if I heard the squire’s whispered word correctly. I shake my head and blink.

When I open my eyes again, Cedwyn is smiling brightly at me. “Well, hop on then, Your Highness.”

I push my suspicions aside and perch myself at the back of his cart. The wagon’s wheels creak as we travel towards the camp in utter silence.

I just want to go home. I just want to see Svenn. I just want to feel safe again.

A spine chilling horn shatters through the air, its resonance loud and haunting.

My skin prickles at the strange blaring noise.

Cedwyn pulls his horse up short, and the wagon stops. I rise to my feet to listen to it better. The squire and I exchange a quick glance before the terrifying sound blast through the realm again.

The world stands still at the sound of that call.

It roars through my ears, the force of it knocking me to the ground.

I take a stuttering breath before the next one arrives.

“What was that?” I ask.

Cedwyn’s eyes widen and a broad smile spread on his face. He laughs at my question, hollow and maniacal. “It’s a declaration, sweet queen.”

Heavens above.

It’s the call to the Wild Hunt.

Landon—the Herald has summoned them for their king.

In the cold northern mountain, the dwarven lords are the first to answer that call.

One by one the light beacons from the summits of Darvan mountain flare up to life from the flames of Astraea herself.

P lease, please dear gods.

Fear quickly drowns all my pain and exhaustion.

Somewhere in the distant peaks of Ironwick, the wyverns signal their answer by turning the sky red with their flames.

My heart jumps to my throat.

No, it can’t be.

From the deep seas of the Varan trench, the seadragons howl their answer. Their song is a promise of death and destruction.

No. No. No.

I heave in and out to calm myself.

I have small hope that Mavren and Kheirall will not join in, I’ve sent them letters, a request for peace. But Myrkheim and Hel both answer that summon, beating their wardrums. The distant pounding is muffled and muted by the chaos here, but it’s there, as clear and as soft as my heartbeat.

One by one, his allies answer the Fae King’s summon. It spawns a new set of horror chilling down my spine. I’m scared. So, so scared. I wrap my arms around my body to calm the fear welling up inside of me.

Gods save us all…

It takes a while for me to open my eyes again. I manage to drag in a breath. Then another. I pull myself together and climb onto the wagon.

“Can we go now?” I ask the young knight.

A spark churns in the black abyss of his eyes.

“Of course,” Cedwyn says, nudging his horse into action again. The boy is whistling and laughing at the impending calamity. He is too young to understand the horrors of war.

The blaring sound and drumming continue, a harbinger of the forces to come. I scrunch my nose against the smell of rust and steel in the air. It becomes even more depressing when I remember the metallic scent is not rust. I shut my eyes, letting the rocking movement of the cart lull me to sleep.

Light from our campsite in the forest coaxes me to peel my eyes open.

“Here we are,” the squire says, his face bright and happy.

I hop off the wagon. “Thank you, Cedwyn.”

The eerie feeling he invokes never fades even as I bid him farewell. I touch my ribs as soon as the boy disappears from sight.

Pain accompanies my walk to the tent with every shallow breath I take. It’s like I can’t inhale enough air into my lungs. Exhaling takes another overwhelming effort as a sharp pain strikes my ribs whenever I do.

I can’t go to Lady Deirdre or my knights with this injury. They’ve seen me intact and whole after the battle. I just have to bear with the pain and sneak into the Hlaryan Elves’ tent later.

I raise the flap to my tent and gasp in a breath.

There he is in the middle of the tent, just as Aelfric had promised. Not a single horrific weapon jutting from his body. He is clean and well-groomed in a long sleeve black tunic and breeches.

I made it.

Somehow I made it home to my husband.

“Svenn…” I feel the burn at the back of my eyes. The weight of the mountain of things I want to say trembles on my lips.

My heart stutters when his eyes flick to me. “Nel.”

He takes in the sight of me, and just like that, relief vanishes from his face. In an instant, he is wilder that the beast that had torn through the rebel orcs earlier.

“What happened?”