Page 7 of The Shadow Fae Rhapsody (Elven Fantasy Romance #3)

Chapter 6 Rhianelle

“ S top it, Coral,” I beg her, using all my strength to hold her down.

All the other wyverns are cowering from Sanguisyl and yet here’s my Coral, leaping to go to him.

“Maybe it’s because of his color,” I muse, stroking her smooth suede horn gently.

Svenn doesn’t comment. He simply turns to Ken and says, “This is your fault.”

I kneel next to the wyvern and touch her scales. “This is just paint, Coral. You’re not really red.”

My easily distracted baby wyvern plops her belly for a rub, all thoughts on Sanguisyl abandoned. Coral may have forgotten him, but I can’t stop looking at the red dragon and its rider.

Finnbheara, the Fae Prince of Avalon, is right there. He’s just sitting there watching his wyvern wrestle with the other bulls. The thrumming in my chest refuses to slow down to allow me to think.

This is my chance. I check the knife and weapon in my satchel.

“What are you doing?” Svenn asks, surprise coloring his face.

My pulse hammers away at the question. He’s not going to like what I’m about to do. “I’m going to the house on the long hill to have a look.”

“It’s too dangerous,” he says far too quickly. “You just told me that the dark-haired fucker down there is the Fae Prince.”

“He is… which is why this is truly a rare opportunity,” I explain, hoping he’ll understand. “I need to find out something.”

I may never get this chance again.

Svenn holds my gaze, his chest rising with a deep, heavy breath. “Fine, I’ll go with you.”

Coral wags her tail eagerly at the word, ‘go.’

“You can’t, Svenn. We both know you’re not as silent as me,” I say softly.

I narrow my eyes at Coral. “You can’t come either.”

She juts her muzzle stubbornly.

“What if they catch you?” he asks.

I hear the fear lacing his voice.

You’re my everything.

His confession echoes in my head. I understand now Svenn cares for me. But the knowledge I gain here can change everything. If war is truly as inevitable as Svenn had said, I need to know when the fae are coming for us.

“How good is their sense of hearing compared to a vampire?” I ask him.

“Mine is a thousandth times better,” he answers flatly.

“Yet you can’t hear me and my silent feet.” I give him a broad grin. “It’ll be fine, Svenn. I can handle this.”

A shadow crosses his features, one of doubt and uncertainty.

“They won’t even know I’m there. I’ll just be a fly on the wall,” I promise, touching his arm. “It would be a quick in and out for me.”

He says nothing.

“You said that you trust me,” I remind him.

His brows dance upward. I see the conflict warring in his head.

“I do trust you,” he finally exhales.

“Then let me go and know that I’ll come back.” I don’t mean it to sound like a challenge. But it would mean a lot if he believes in me.

I’ll always come back to you, Svenn. My heart whispers, hoping he’ll understand.

He snatches my chin, forcing me to look at him. His eyes gaze into mine with the intensity of a thousand suns.

It burns…

But I stare at him right back, channeling one of Rainer’s wintry gaze. We’re both stubborn.

“Nel…” he mutters my name with defeat. My heart almost burst with anticipation when he finally nods.

It’s small, barely imperceptible, and reluctant, but a nod nonetheless. I throw myself at him and wrap his body in a hug.

Svenn trusts me. He believes in me.

“Go. But be careful,” he whispers in my ear.

He holds me tighter, nearly confiscating the air out of my lungs. If I linger longer, he may never let me go. I pull away slowly. “Watch over Coral for me.”

The house on top of the hill has no sentries manning its gate, not even a single ward. I suppose there is no need for guards when you have hundreds of wyverns on your lawn.

This level of arrogance and confidence is something only a fae possesses. It’s not too late to go back. There’s a high probability that the person who lives next to the wyvern’s dwelling is someone dangerous. They’ll kill me if I am caught.

My stomach clenches at the thought, but I force myself to go through with this. I take several measured breaths before entering the property.

I am silent.

I am nothing.

It’s easy to navigate the interior of the house because the house plan is similar to most fae mansions I’ve been to. I am silently thankful to Dream Svenn for bringing me to strange places across the continent in my dreams. He likes finding new hunting ground to chase me and appease his primal instincts. I shake my head from thoughts of him and focus on the current task at hand.

Every hall is surprisingly empty, from the library to the kitchen and dining room. I was hoping to follow one of the helpers so they can take me to the fae lord’s room. The place is surprisingly clean for a castle without a single servant or maid.

After reaching the third floor without meeting a single soul, I give up. I am so done—

Footsteps resound from down the hall, and I quickly hide. A broad-shouldered fae strides into the room in his black leather suit. Power roils from him as he walks by with a duffel bag behind his back and a mask over his head. His muscular built and height reminds me of Svenn. Once again, I’m filled with longing and an ache for my husband. I shake my head to focus. It will be all right. I just have to gather information and come home to him soon.

This fae must be someone important, a warrior. I have to follow him. There’s no other choice. He’s the only person I’ve met in this house so far. I wait until he disappears down the hall before trailing behind him silently towards the watchtower.

I pause at the absence of stairs on the spiral staircase. That can’t be right… I am certain the fae went up there. Did he step on air? Does he have wings? Does the house have a ward?

It takes several beats for me to realize that the floor in the watchtower is made from transparent glass. Only the fae could design something so terrifying and beautiful at the same time.

I hear the thudding sound of the duffel bag being dumped in the room and then the sound of running water. Once the coast is clear, I tiptoe into the room, careful not to make a noise.

The watchtower has a large space with the furniture on one side and another side made solely of glass. Even half of the ceiling is transparent. I marvel at the enchanting architecture, at the full view of the blue sky and the distant mountains through the glass.

It’s utterly breathtaking, almost magical. I want to live in a house like this with Svenn. I blush at my stupid dream. We could live in a cottage in the woods and I would still be happy.

I keep glancing back at the washroom door despite the sound of running water. I’d be more at ease if the fae does something normal like singing or humming while showering. But he is completely silent and practical while he bathes.

A full set black armor lies on the table along with a matching helmet. I trace my fingers on the wyvern carved helm, marveling at the delicate dwarven crafts.

No way…

Terror grasps my heart, clenching it like a fist. This can’t be true… I move closer to read the fae runes carved on the shoulder plate.

Master of the Hunt.

My hand trembles when I slowly open the bag on the table. I glimpse the hair on beheaded heads and frantically snap it shut again.

This wyvern helm and the long spear on the table... could it be?

Dear gods. The Black Rose on the regalia confirms my worst nightmare. This is not just any ordinary fae lord. It’s Eirik Bloodhound’s best bounty hunter.

I just entered the Shadow Fae’s house.

The real one.

The room quickly falls to silence when the faucet from the washroom turns off. My head snaps to the door in panic.

That was quick… too quick.

There’s not enough time to make it to the entrance. I look left and right for a place to hide. The only choice I have is the furniture in the room. I climb into the wardrobe and go perfectly still.

I force my heartbeat to slow and peer into the room through the stacked slits lined on the door.

The fae reenters the room stark naked, toweling his face instead of covering his private parts.

Why would he do that—well, I can’t fault him. This is his house and he thinks he’s alone in the room. I’m the pervert in this case.

The Aeonian’s cheap imitation of him pales significantly. The Shadow Fae is muscular and lean built, with tanned skin kissed by tattoos. I haven’t gotten the chance to see his face yet.

My heart sputters when he suddenly walks to the wardrobe. Of course he will open this thing first after a bath to look for clothes. I’m an idiot for choosing to hide in here. They should write that on my tombstone. A dumb, pathetic fool.

He halts when three giant shadow cats enter the room. I keep myself still, afraid to even breathe too loudly.

One lynx purrs, communicating with him the way Ken would speak to Svenn.

“I know Finn’s here,” he says to his shadow cat. “Leave the balcony door open for him to come in.”

His voice is strangely lovely, deep and soothing. I’ve never heard anything quite like it. I hear the rustling of clothes as he steps into his tunic and pants.

Thank the gods. I promise I will increase my donations to the temple. I will also pay my penance to the temple of Astraea for accidentally looking at the private parts of a male other than my husband’s.

Shadow and steel become one as he dons the set pieces on the table until every inch of his skin is covered in the sleek ebony armor. I shift my position to catch a look at his face in the mirror, but my view is limited and it’s too little too late for that. The fierce wyvern carving on the helm and plates only adds to the intimidating effect of his presence.

A well-groomed male enters the room from the balcony window, tall and broad shouldered. He is dressed in an elegant gray jacket embroidered with obsidian thread. His jet-black hair is styled back, highlighting his high cheekbones.

This is him…

Prince Finnbheara, the Fae Prince of Avalon.

He’s merely standing there near the window, yet his regal presence is devouring the air and space in the room.

“A fourth visit in a month. To what do I owe this pleasant surprise?” the Shadow Fae greets his prince. There is a musical lilt to his voice, even as he is speaking casually.

“Same reason I did last week, Lan. Sanguisyl is convinced that his Destined has arrived,” Finnbheara replies smoothly, taking off his riding gloves.

The Shadow Fae inclines his head. “Surely you have better things to do than help your lizard look for his mate.”

Once again, I’m struck by the lilt in his beautiful voice.

Finnbheara ignores the comment and settles on the empty seat at the coffee table. “How was your hunt, Landon?”

“Killed all three of them before dawn,” the Shadow Fae replies in a dull tone, leaning against the glass balcony door to look at the red wyvern. “He’s not showing any signs like he wants to court any of the mares. I think your wyvern is sterile.”

The Fae Prince nudges his brows together. “Sanguisyl is not sterile. He’s picky. Kind of like you. You still haven’t found your mate, have you?”

Landon’s posture shifts at the remark, taking it in strides. “Maybe I don’t want to end up like you. Captured a human bride only for her to be a half-elf.”

Finnbheara elevates his gaze to the Shadow Fae, his eyes loaded like a crossbow. “I’d choose my next words carefully if I were you, brother.”

“Tell me, Finn. Why her? Did you do it to spite your father?” the Shadow Fae asks with an added barb. “Do you even love her?”

The look the Fae Prince gives him is downright lethal. I’m almost afraid I’m about to watch two fae killing one another.

“I do love her…” Finnbheara trails off, his jaw hardening. “But her kind is everything I am sworn to deny. They are impure, unclean, and therefore must be purged from this earth.”

The quiet menace and pure hatred in the Fae Prince make me go still.

“Then rejoice, sweet prince. The stars have aligned. Your father has gathered all his Masters of the Hunt,” the Shadow Fae says in a voice of pure delight. “And He named me His Herald.”

Fae Prince smiles, the laugh lines around his eyes crinkling. It’s a pure and sincere smile, the kind one gives after looking at their baby for the first time. “Then this calls for a celebration, brother.”

The Shadow Fae, Landon, opens a wine bottle and draws a game set on the table. I don’t understand these fae at all. One second they look like they’re seconds away from killing each other, and now they’re drinking, laughing together like they’re best friends.

Brothers.

But as much as their behavior is peculiar to me, I don’t miss that important information.

That masked fae is the Herald of the Wild Hunt? My heart is pounding in my chest so hard that blood is thumping in my ear.

One summon from him and the war begins.

The two fae start drinking while I’m stuck in this wardrobe, shivering in fear. I try to understand the boardgame they play on the table, but it’s too confusing. The Shadow Fae seems to play checkers on his side of the board, while the prince is playing chess over his side.

“The King of Myrkheim thinks there is hope for another treaty with the elves,” Landon mutters, moving his piece on the board.

I feel a tinge of relief at that knowledge. I wrote to Mavren Aeldrath Malgorth once, back when I was young and silly. The king was polite in his reply.

“Peace? With the elves?” Finnbheara scoffs harshly. “That softness is why Mavren is struggling with a rebellion.”

“The rebel orc Akaloth won’t be in this world for long,” the Shadow Fae says. I sense a glitter of amusement in his voice. “Eirik has sanctioned his death.”

He passes a set of parchments with lists and pictures to Finnbheara. I can’t stop the tendril of fear crawling up my spine when I glimpse a portrait of my face in there along with several of Aelfheim’s generals and nobles.

Landon leans back in his seat. “I’m to deliver his judgement.”

“What of his thousands of followers?” Finnbheara quirks an eyebrow.

“Anyone allied with Akaloth is either corrupted or damned by association,” the Shadow Fae says easily.

The Fae Prince studies a poster in his hand. “The warrant was issued last week. It’s not like you to stall… Trouble?”

“The rebels have a feud with the elves,” the Shadow Fae muses. There is an edge of darkness to his voice. “Should Aelfheim decide to attack Tavan, it would be the perfect opportunity to gauge their strength.”

Finnbheara’s eyebrows shoot up. “What is there to measure? We can defeat the elves by the land, sea, and air.”

“The technology by Aelfheim’s Tluryan elves is something to be feared.” The Shadow Fae moves his checkers piece again. “I don’t want to start a war we can’t win.”

“We’ll win, brother,” the Fae Prince says with conviction. “My advice is we must attack them now before they can gather more power.”

The Shadow Fae says nothing, stewing in his silence.

“But it’s your call to summon the hunt,” Finnbheara finally says. “I trust your judgement.”

Landon lifts his head to look at his prince.

“You’ve always been reasonable. Father made you his Herald for a reason,” the male adds, eyes sparkling with pride.

This guy who killed three people before breakfast is the reasonable one among the fae? I’ve heard enough… Svenn was right. I just want to go home to him right now.

The Shadow Fae slides his attention to the glass window. “What the fuck is Sanguisyl doing? He’s checking the nests too?”

“If his mate is a newborn, then it’s my responsibility to protect her,” the Fae Prince says solemnly.

The Shadow Fae lowers his head. I sense something sad in the movement. The first emotion I catch from the Fae King’s Herald. “Six more died this week. It’s the fucking draught. There’s nothing much I can do about it.”

Finnbheara purses his lips and lets out a smooth whistle. The sound is no different from the one Rainer used whenever he called for his late dog, Judge.

The walls around us tremble as the wyvern scrambles towards his rider. I’m genuinely afraid that the wyvern might actually destroy the house. Every violent shake of the castle floor slices a prick or terror inside me.

“No luck, big guy?” the Fae Prince asks his gigantic mount. The colossal red wyvern grunts, licking his back like a cat.

The two fae move to the glass balcony, and I struggle to hear their spoken words as they bid each other farewell.

“I’ll see you around, brother.” Finnbheara takes his leave, carrying the bag containing the heads with him. He jumps on the back of the red dragon in one smooth movement.

The ground shakes once again when Sanguisyl takes flight. This time I’m truly terrified of the glasshouse shattering. I breathe in and out quietly, trying to not completely lose it.

Landon, the Shadow Fae, reenters the room and slumps on the chair again, letting out a heavy sigh. His shadow cats encircle him, begging for a rub.

“All right, I’ll feed you soon,” Landon mutters lazily. His voice is truly music to the ears.

The shadow cats run away as soon as he showers them with attention like normal cats do. Landon subtly tilts his head and gazes at the wardrobe.

I don’t move.

I don’t even breathe.

His gaze remains plastered in my direction, long enough for fear to dip in my gut.

There’s no way he can sense me.

I am silent. I am nothing.

“Well, now that our beloved prince has left, time to entertain our next guest.” His posture tenses like a hound that’s caught a scent.

“Or should I say intruder?”

The knot in my chest tightens, strangling my heart.

“Hello, white rabbit,” he greets, his voice light and full of amusement. “You can surrender yourself freely, or the next five minutes will not be pleasant for either of us.”

I ignore his offer while I look for a way out. My eyes snag towards the glass balcony window from where Finnbheara left, but it snaps shut on phantom wind.

“Come out,” the fae orders.

I begin to panic when he walks towards me. He heaves a heavy breath as he places his hand on the wardrobe door. “This won’t be pleasant then.”

No, it won’t.

The door swings open and I kick his chest with both feet. He stumbles backward to the coffee table; the impact sending game pieces sprawling everywhere on the floor. I dash past him towards the entrance.

“After her!” he commands.

If he sends one of those shadow lynxes after me, I’m dead. I head straight towards the door at the bottom of the staircase before it slams shut right in front of me. It’s a good thing that I’m good at picking locks.

I jam the keyhole until it finally gives way. I sprint as fast as I can until another door blocks my path. Each one I pass through is more difficult to open than the next.

Heavens help me.

This stupid castle is trying to let me get caught. I have a sneaking suspicion it was the one who revealed my position to the Shadow Fae. The rug from beneath my feet suddenly folds, bringing me back to the master it serves.

This is getting tiring.

I keep moving forward, but I’m running out of energy. The exhaustion from being chased by the rats last night and the hike from earlier is taking its toll on me.

I feel the house shuddering around me like a living thing. It doesn’t want me to be inside of it, as if I’m a stomach bug. And now it’s doing its best to purge me.

I’m going to die here.

The Arawynn tattoo on my wrist glimmers faintly.

Make me human.

The words snap me out of my despair. That’s right. I made a promise. I can’t die here in this stupid house. I’m going to come home to Svenn. I’m going to break his curse.

I can do this. Come on.

If I can just lose the fae for one second, I can hide, and he’ll never find me. Not even Svenn with his enhanced hearing as a Strigon could catch me and my silent feet. I open the lid to one of the large pots lining the wall and sneak inside.

“She’s over here!”

I blanch at the shrilling sound of the voice.

What?

“The girl is on the fifth floor!” Another joins in, revealing my position. “She’s trying to hide in the giant urn.”

Then dozens of them speak simultaneously. “There! She’s hiding here, Master Landon.”

Cold fear slithers down my spine. I was sure no one saw me. I peer outside the pot. Looking around the passage.

No one is around.

“The girl is in the brown pot!”

There is no use in hiding now. I release a frustrated sigh and climb out of the urn.

“She’s getting away!”

I look around for the source of the strange voices. They’re coming from the walls.

No.

Not walls.

All the paintings hanging along the hallway are moving. They’re all snitching on me.

I take one in my hand, a portrait of a court jester in colorful clothes. He has an adorable face and wears a green hat with mismatched red and yellow socks.

“She’s taken me hostage with her dirty hands,” he cries desperately. “Someone help!”

“Shut up!” I shake the stupid thing. “How do I get out of here?”

His red painted lips pull into a wide grin. “I’ll never talk. I’ll never betray Master Landon.”

I draw out my dagger to scratch the painting.

The jester’s mouth pops open, fear filling his face. “All right! All right, I’ll talk. You need to turn left at the next corner. There’s a window at the end of the corridor.”

“How do I know you’re not lying?” I ask him.

His brows furrow with confusion. “A fae can’t lie.”

He’s right…

I dash towards his given direction in a heartbeat.

“Wait, you’re taking me with you?” The jester gasps with disbelief. “I gave you what you want. Now put me down!”

I shut out his annoying voice and continue charging faster and faster until my legs burn. Dappled sunlight glints on the golden frame of the large window panel at the end of the long corridor. The painting was telling the truth after all.

I’m going to see Svenn and Coral soon. My heart does a little dance and blooms.

All hope shatters as soon as I reach the glass and look down at the courtyard below me.

The jester gives me a wicked laugh. “I guess I forgot to tell you we’re on the fifth floor.”

I stand there quietly, looking at the horizon, the green field, and the sloping hills below. Somewhere out there, my husband, Coral and Ken are waiting for me.

I look at the painting in my hand and sigh.

He sees the intention in my eyes. “Wait—wait. Let’s talk about this—”

I smash the painting towards the window, shattering the large panel glass into pieces. The jester’s horrified scream echoes in the air as he falls to the ground.

“Sorry,” I mutter underneath my breath. I remove the bits and pieces of sharp glass from the frame to make way for myself. Footsteps approach from behind me.

“Well, well. Look what the lynx dragged in.” My blood curdles at the sound of that voice.

The Shadow Fae strides towards me slowly, his steps purposeful. “There’s no way for you to run.”

I’m so dead.

He is wearing a helmet, yet I can feel his gaze on me through the metal slits. The intensity of it makes my feet stagger.

I jump out of the window without hesitation.

I expect pain when I land on the cold, hard courtyard below, but instead I land on a bouncy leather. My backside hurts but I’m surprise I survived the fall without a scratch. I rub my head in a daze at the voice of the jester.

“Wake up, guys! Can you do something about her?”

His frame is a little dented, but the painting looks fine for the most part. I rise to my feet, wondering who he is talking to.

“She’s right over there!”

I nearly jump out of my skin at the sight of a row of teeth almost the length of my full arm.

Heavens help me.

I take several steps back. In a heartbeat, it dawns on me. The soft cushion that broke my fall is this wyvern’s wing. My heart stutters and ceases beating in my chest. The creature barely registers my presence, its eyes half-open, dazed with sleep.

Thank the heavens.

I keep backing away until I hit a wall—another wyvern.

I take a sharp, shaky breath.

Oh gods.

Of course, it’s just my luck. I landed in a courtyard filled with lounging wyverns.

“Wake up, you buffoons, there’s the thief right there!” the jester screams at the top of his lungs. “She’s trying to steal me.”

My heart panics to another stop. This cruel jester is going to get me killed. I wait for death to claim my soul.

Seconds turn to minutes.

Nothing happens.

“Help me! You stupid lizards!” The jester makes another attempt to get them moving.

But the wyverns ignore him like a lazy house cat.

Good.

I use the opportunity to draw a summoning circle on the ground.

“Seeds of water, Nurturer of earth, I call upon you to dance with me.”

The runes on the circle I had written on the ground shine with a chartreuse glow. Nimue slowly rises from my summoning. The woodland nymph looks mostly like fae and elves, except for her webbed fingers. She’s wearing the same white dress I had given her fifty years ago.

The Lady of the lake raises her head slowly, her long dark hair falling along her pale face.

“Rhianelle?” Her eyes widen in surprise, then in delight.

Nimue jumps and wraps her arms around me in a tight hug. “It’s been a long time.”

“I’ve missed you too.” I ease out from her cold embrace.

“Your hair is softer now,” I say, toning down on my compliment. If I tell her she is beautiful or something along those lines, she might faint and return into the summoning circle.

“Thank you,” she says, her pale cheeks slowly gaining color as she blushes.

Nimue takes in her new environment, her expression growing wary. “Rhianelle, where are we?”

“I’m surrounded by fire-breathing drakes. Please lend me your strength,” I plead desperately.

“Of course, I’ll help,” she says without a beat of hesitation. “But there’s no one else here but these lizards, right?”

This is the Lady of the Lake’s only weakness. She is extremely shy and doesn’t like to be around people.

I stare at her in silence.

“Right?” she asks again.

I’ve destroyed my friendship with Jessica by being dishonest. I’m not going to lose Nimue for the same reason.

“There is one person living in that castle.”

Just as I say it, Landon steps at the broken window on the fifth floor, looking down at us. His sleek, dark body armor seems to feast on the light from the sun itself.

“There he is…” I look up nervously and Nimue follows my gaze. “That fae wants to kill me.”

Panic seizes me at the truth behind those words.

He’s really going to kill me. Then he’ll burn my kingdom.

“Kill you?” Nimue looks at me with disbelief and shock. She then trains her eyes on Landon with quiet determination. “Then I guess I’ll have to be brave.”

She may look fragile, but Nimue has a rare gift. If she can cast away her insecurities, she would have been one of the most lethal creatures in Astefar.

The water wraith glances around the courtyard. “I don’t think I can call for water in the middle of nowhere—”

Her brows suddenly knit in concentration.

“What’s wrong?” I ask nervously.

“A stream. I can feel it close,” she says, closing her eyes to focus. “Give me some time.”

I don’t think we have it. I glance at the fae standing above us.

Landon draws a long golden flute from his waist. He places the instrument close to his helmet and a tune plays in the air, beautiful and soft. I don’t know how he is making that sound without having to remove his mask.

His performance doesn’t bother me until I feel sudden goosebumps on my skin.

“Farewell, thief. It was nice knowing you,” the jester waves. I store the annoying painting into my satchel, but the unease doesn’t fade.

Golden slits of eyes pop open and widen all around us. The loafing wyverns suddenly become more focused at the sound of that beautiful melody.

My heart leaps to my throat at the sight. “Anytime now, Nimue.”

“Don’t rush me!” She holds up her hand. Her eyes remain sealed to find her water.

A copper colored wyvern turns its massive head towards us. I hear the rattling in its throat. They usually do that right before they breathe out a simmering blast of flame.

My heart is pounding in my chest so hard that blood is thumping in my ear. “We’ll be turned to crisps soon.”

A dash of white scales enters the courtyard. Pale with a pink belly and a barbless tail.

I don’t believe it…

“Coral, you came for me!” I can’t hide my delight. And fear.

The little wyvern stands in front of me bravely to defend us against the surrounding mighty monsters. She screeches and spreads her wings wide threateningly. It’s like a puppy trying to bark at a group of gargantuan elephants. But the other wyverns cease moving for a moment, studying her curiously.

“The baby is courageous, but I don’t think it will win against these bloodthirsty fiends,” Nimue says quietly, shaking her head. “I need more time, Rhianelle.”

We don’t have time.

“We better make a run for it first,” I say nervously. “On my count. One, two, three—”

Before I finish my count, Nimue tugs my hand and charge forward. I feel the singing heat behind my neck. I think the water wraith has just saved my life. We sprint southward as fast as we can, barely missing the snapping jaw of another colossal wyvern.

Landon descends from the fifth floor casually, stepping on the back of a wyvern like he’s using stairs. He snaps his fingers and the walls around us move.

“The gates are closing!” I yell in despair as the metallic slab slowly drops like curtains. My heart is racing in my chest, the fear propelling my run. I might not make it in time. I don’t want to be trapped with an insane fae inside a house that wants to kill me.

“Come on, Rhianelle!” Nimue pulls me, her grip on my hand is tight enough to hurt. I fight against my exhausted calf muscles to make it through.

Coral lowers her head and nuzzles at my feet.

“What’s wrong?” I exhale too sharply, breathless from the run.

“I think she wants you to hop on her back,” Nimue interprets blindly.

“I don’t think—”

The wyvern nudges me again.

“All right, then.”

Coral hunches her body closer to the ground for me to climb on her. I place my foot on her hind leg, using it as leverage to push me off the ground. I swing my leg over, and once I’m settled, Nimue hops on right behind me. For a moment, I’m afraid our weight would be too much for the baby wyvern.

Before I can voice out my concern, Coral charges forward at full speed.

“Oh my. Slow down,” Nimue begs, her webbed fingers digging on my shoulders to hold on.

My little Coral clears the gate in no time. This may be less graceful than riding a Noctral, but it’s way faster than sprinting on our feet.

More wyverns, bigger ones, await us on the open field. Coral evades them easily with her slick moves. She’s a survivor. Just like me. We’re going to make it. We’re going to go home to Svenn. I made a promise.

Landon leaps from one wyvern to another with power and confidence. I can’t see his face but I feel his eyes locked in our direction. The vicious gaze of a predator who has found his prey.

“He’s going to fry us,” Nimue mutters behind me. The thought is enough to send us careening faster down the hill.

The fae makes another higher pitch melody with his flute. It drives all the wyverns in the grassland insane. Every one of them is coming after us now.

Oh gods, please save us.

In this grave moment, I’m suddenly reminded of a tale Rainer once told me when I was a child, the tale of the fae piper and the rats.

The story was about a town that was infested with rodents. The mayor hired a fae to save them from the impending plague in exchange for gold. The fae accepted the offer and played his pipe.

All the rats were mesmerized by the beautiful music and followed behind the fae faithfully until he led them into a river. But the people lied, and they never paid the piper. So, one night when everyone was asleep, the fae played his flute again. Every child in town slipped away from their bed and trailed behind him merrily.

Rainer told me the happier version of the story where the children eventually went home to their family, but Blaire and I later read the darker end of that tale. I feel like I am reliving that story. The fae and his stupid flute. Except Landon is luring wyverns instead of rodents.

“I found it!” Nimue suddenly claps her hands, shaking me from my thoughts. “But it’s an underground water source. Brace yourself.”

I prepare myself just as she warns me, clutching to Coral’s horn tighter.

It begins as a rumbling, no different from the sound of my own stomach growl whenever I’m hungry. Except this one is coming from the earth.

A tremor vibrates through the ground. The grassland around us cracks like caramelized sugar. Wyverns in the field take flight to the horizon, recognizing the incoming threat from below.

In a blink of an eye, water blasts from the rocks, shooting towards the sky. A torrential rain pelts the ground from the high pressure spurt. All the winged reptiles seem to hate water, clearing a path for us. Even Landon and his wyverns cease their chase.

“All right!” I gasp with relief. I spread my arms wide, loving the way the water hits my skin.

We’re safe.

But the important thing is to get out of this place. We’ll savor this victory later. Coral doesn’t stop her amazing sprint to our freedom.

“I don’t think they’re following after us anymore,” the water wraith whispers from behind me.

“You really did it, Nimue!” I cheer in pure delight.

She stares at her webbed hands in disbelieve, surprised by her own strength. “I did it…”

More geysers appear in the field, bursting uncontrollably. The fountains turn into a sweeping tide, flooding the hills.

Fear dips in my gut when I realize we’re running towards the foot of the hill. The water will course down on us soon and Coral can’t fly.

“That doesn’t look good,” the jester mutters, peering at the incoming wave from my satchel.

For the first time, I agree with the painting.

“Umm… I think you need to stop that now,” I tell Nimue. The stream is coming straight at us like an avalanche.

“I can’t… The pressure is too strong,” she says, shaking her head in horror before the water engulfs us in its wave.