Page 9 of The Shadow Fae Rhapsody (Elven Fantasy Romance #3)

Chapter 8 Rhianelle

“ B less be the faithful, bless you my son on your journey.”

I watch silently from my assigned seat at the temple as Lord Sylas Duvall grants his blessings to the Valorian knights on behalf of our Elders.

He walks on the raised stage, anointing and blessing the Valorian knights with his Holy Sceptre and red wine. The dark liquid they poured on the knights looks a lot like blood and my stomach rumbles with unease.

“May the Elders in their unending and undying rule give you strength.”

The Aeonians’ temple knights will depart for Tavan this evening to deliver the bounty requested by the rebels for Blaire and her entourage.

“Glory to the revered Elders for their wisdom and protection.”

I count the style of voices that speaks through Lord Sylas Duvall.

Four voices.

There are six names written in that paper when the Aeonians requested me to bind Svenn to them back in the human world.

Samara, Leafhdraich, Kabur, Thormein, Siullan, and Kafrenn.

Yet the four voices don’t sound like they are affected by the death of one of them. Not a hint of sadness or fear of revelation. Do they even know that one of them is the sorcerer responsible for the killings in Windhaven?

I wish I can expose them in front of the council and the people. But Svenn could not find a single trace of the body he ripped off in the sewer, and neither could my knights. Aelfric has searched the sewers for five days now and discovered nothing but ash and remnants of the rat beast.

“The Aeonians have been masquerading as the Shadow Fae,” Aelfric muses, appearing by my side as if thoughts summoned him. “If what the vampire said is true, then most of our major conflicts with Darvan, Myrkheim, and Avalon are instigated by them.”

The fact sends my skin crawling with goosebumps. War is inevitable, I know. But I won’t give up. I’m still writing letters to anyone who wishes for peace, Mavren of Myrkheim, Kheirall of Hel, Daraiel the dwarven steward in the North.

Aelfric’s keen eye is honed on the messenger on the podium, watching every movement. “A baseless accusation will spark a civil war, especially if the charge comes from Volundr.”

I nod. It’s simply not worth the risk.

The only thing we have is Svenn’s words.

My husband has no reason to lie. He could have pulled that culprit out of the vortex fully, but he didn’t do it because Shade and I were seconds from being buried under the tunnel.

“We keep to ourselves until we have solid proof,” I say to him.

Aelfric rakes a hand through his short cropped blonde hair, adjusting the black patch covering his left eye. Sometimes I wonder if he is still in pain over that injury. He heaves a slow breath through his nose to keep his emotions under control. “We’re letting their Valorian Knights leave with three thousand chests worth of silver and gold from you.”

“I don’t care if they steal the treasure,” I mutter, shaking my head. “I’m scared if they’re planning something more sinister.”

Fear rattles through my bones over their wicked treachery. “We need to be ready for anything.”

“You’ve changed,” Aelfric muses, studying my face silently.

I turn to look at my friend. “Is that bad?”

“Not at all,” he shakes his head and smiles. “I like you like this. But I have to ask. Are you happy, Rhianelle?”

I slowly drop my hands to my lap. The question stuns me like a violent whip, but the answer is easy.

“I am.”

Being this close to him, I can see the sapphire blue of his only eye. Something like relief flashes in his irises. “I needed to hear that.”

I furrow my eyebrows at that remark.

“The Varyndor camp,” he says simply, answering my questioning eyes. “I should have been there to protect you, Rhianelle.”

Oh Aelfric.

It was really no one’s fault. I wanted to belong so badly that I—

Aelfric lowers his head, his gaze hardening. “But I’m glad you’re happy now.”

“Of course she’s happy.” Garrett suddenly appears, sliding to the other seat next to me. “She has a baby wyvern now.”

Aelfric cuts him a flat stare that would have sent lesser male running. “Keep it down, you fool.”

“But Coral is too cute,” the other knight gushes.

My heart warms at the very mention of her name. “Thank you for letting Coral stay on your estate. Please tell Lord Clayborne I am forever in his debt.”

Garrett gives me a broad smile. “My father is happy to have her. He has given up the hopes of having any grandchildren from me, so taking care of that baby is a blessing. He’s going to spoil her rotten.”

It feels like ages ago when the lord had declared the deadly Archon on my head. I hope Coral behaves and doesn’t eat too much of his chicken.

I’m so happy my knights accepted a creature of fae origin so freely. I know it’s not easy to embrace that. All our lives, we’ve been taught that the fae are savage and ruthless, a source of great evil.

We keep the secret of Coral’s existence in a small circle. Lady Siofra says she can try recreating a salve she once saw the orkan mages use on premature foals to help with Coral’s growing pain.

It’s only been a day since I last saw her, but I’m already missing the baby wyvern. I touch my chest to calm the ache I feel there.

Aelfric notices my distress instantly with his eagle eye. “Hey, let us all see her after your birthday celebration.”

My mouth tips up with a smile at the promise. This unbearable longing feels familiar. Being bonded to Coral makes me realize something about this connection between me and Svenn…

Thunderclouds cluster in the sky as I skip down the streets of Windhaven beyond the town square. I wasn’t lying to Aelfric and Garrett when I told them I plan to return to my room after the ceremony. I just need to make a quick stop first.

Moving through the dwellings, tanneries, and smithies in the small city is like navigating through a labyrinth. It doesn’t help that vendors and merchants start setting their small shop in preparation for the night market. But with the precise direction given by Tallula, I arrive at my destination.

It’s way past visiting hours as I sneak into the Hlaryan elves’ temple. I step onto the rising marble steps just as it rains. The frigid air makes me glad I’m wearing multiple layers beneath my heavy coat. I pull my hood forward and sneak from one white pillar column to the next to reach the wide oak double door.

I pause briefly at the stone staircase at the sound of approaching footsteps. Taryn is walking with one of the veiled priestesses down the hall. Her dark hair is braided and twisted into buns, leaving a few loose curls at the temples. The deep forest green acolyte robe she adorns is a proof of her order and skill. Soon she will be awarded with the proud blue robe of the Hlaryan elves and be a certified healer like Lady Deirdre.

“He won’t let us take off his mask,” I hear the girl grumble to her superior.

The matron shakes her head, frowns, and sighs. “Let him keep it then.”

Time is short and I can’t have the priestess alert my knights of my presence. I wait for her to leave before stepping out of the shadows to greet Taryn.

“I was expecting you,” the young acolyte says brightly as she leads me down the temple hall. “Your friend had just woken up this afternoon.”

My chest heaves with a heavy sigh of relief. I was beginning to worry if Shade may never open his eyes.

I even begged Svenn to bite him again because I was so afraid. The very suggestion made my husband scowl and punish me. He held me in his arms at breakfast until I was late for the ceremony this morning. I wonder if Svenn had timed it so I didn’t have to stand and wait long at the town square for Duvall’s arrival.

He’ll wake up, Svenn had promised. And he’s right.

Taryn suddenly slows to a stop and pauses in the hallway. Her gaze softly lifts to mine as she stares at me with her rich brown eyes.

“I wanted to thank you…” the girl suddenly says in a soft but clear voice. “For taking our place as a sacrifice to the Nightwalker. I can’t imagine having to live with a vampire every day.”

I blink in surprise.

The girl doesn’t have to worry for me. My husband isn’t all that bad.

“As a maiden of Arawynn, it was our duty to become an offering, and yet we passed it on to you,” she says, her voice breaking.

I take her hand to comfort her.

“I’m all right, Taryn,” I say to her. Better than that, I’m happy. I don’t feel so alone anymore with Svenn by my side.

I look at the young acolyte’s sad expression as she tucks a loose strand behind her ear. Taryn shouldn’t have been made to feel this way. She shouldn’t have to apologize.

“There won’t be any more desecrations to the Goddess of Arawynn. The elven marriage bond will never be used for political ties ever again,” I vow solemnly. “Blaire is the last and we’ll get her back.”

My friend seems to have a plan of her own by secretly tying herself to the third prince of Myrkheim.

“We’ll get her back,” Taryn echoes and nods. For a moment there, she almost looks just like her sister, Aldarelf Tierra.

I trail behind her silently past the sick bay towards the recovering area.

“If Shade’s been asleep all this time, how come no one tried to remove his mask?” I voice the question in my head out loud.

“A couple of acolytes tried, and so did I,” Taryn admits. “But the Grimsbane mask seems to have some kind of contraption to keep the assassin’s identity concealed while he’s unconscious. I doubt it can be removed without permission, even in his death.”

Taryn shows me her hand. I gasp at the bruising at the base of her thumb. “No permanent damage. It will heal soon without needing Anastarros’ blessing. Your assassin is on the last bed in the second row. There’s no one else in the dorm. You can’t miss him.”

“Thank you.” I nod to her and move down the hall, past the lined metallic framed beds. Shade lies on the simple mattress with his eyes close. His demonic mask makes him appear menacing even when he is sleeping. A small cask of ale and a water pitcher lay on the nightstand beside his bed.

My heart breaks seeing the cuts on his face and the bandaged wound on his abdomen. He saved my life more than once now… The Grimsbane seems to have a similar affliction with my husband; an allergy to clothes. I glimpse the tattoos cording on his muscles and hands. The runes are written in the language of Tiamat, but I can’t read them because of the bandages.

“Shade.”

He doesn’t rouse at my calling.

“Shade,” I try again, settling beside him. The bed groans over my added weight.

The assassin lays unperturbed despite my close presence. I remove a lint from his gray hair. It feels like I’m caught in a trance as I smooth my hand through the soft strands. If his hair is longer, I want to braid it like I did with Aerin’s. I miss her so badly. For some strange reason, stroking Shade’s gray hair stifles a small portion of that longing for my sister.

“That’s rude.”

I retreat my hand at the sleepy, gravelly voice from the mask. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t stop,” he says almost immediately. “But your husband might kill me if he sees us.”

I return my hand to my lap.

“The healers said I’ve been out for five days?” he asks.

I nod.

“They told me you visited every day.”

I nod again.

“I should return to the house…” the assassin says flatly, propping on his elbow to sit up.

“You’re not well, Shade,” I tell him.

“What about the Red envelopes?” He quirks his eyebrows. “Who is going to stop the Silverra from reading them?”

Ah yes, the Red Envelopes.

It contains the Aeonians’ demand for me to accept the punishment I am owed for disrespecting their order. I have nearly a dozen of them in my drawer, demanding my swift return to the capital. They still want me to accept the seventy-seven lashes for failing to bind Svenn. The Elders should have sent them to my tower instead of the Wiolant’s House. If Rainer finds out, he will burn the parchment along with the messenger to send a message.

Shade has been intercepting them at my request before it reaches my uncle.

“You don’t have to worry about that, Shade,” I say, shaking my head. “Lenna stole one yesterday from the mailbox before anyone could notice.”

Shade watches me with a tiny crease between his brows.

“I brought you meat pie from the town’s market.” I place the bag on the nightstand as the assassin watches me without word.

I don’t want Shade to exert himself but I know he is right. The Red Envelopes can’t reach Rainer. I wonder if I can ask another Grimsbane to help me with the letters. Unlike Shade, the rest of them truly embody the spirit and essence of their mysterious guild. They’re deadly, unapproachable, and hidden in the shadows.

“Do you think I can ask Catnip or Rooster for help?” I ask. Those two are the other Grimsbane I often see hanging around my uncle.

“No. Don’t even talk to them,” Shade says harshly, coughing through his mask.

“Do you want some water?” I ask.

“Yes, please,” he rasps.

I pour a glass from the pitcher on the side table. A click resounds as he opens his metallic demon mask to take a sip. I immediately lower my head to look at the floor. I’m curious to see his face… But it’s not right to peek if he is making so much effort to hide his face from the public.

I’m already marked for death for looking at the Shadow Fae’s face. I don’t want to add to my bad luck by gazing at the forbidden look of the Grimsbanes.

I can’t help but smile when I hear the rustling of the paper bag I brought and the delicious smell of meat pie.

“It’s really good,” I hear him say, and I keep my eyes plastered to the floor to give him privacy. I plan to bring some to Svenn later.

A dark chuckle leaves Shade when he wears the mask once again. “It’s useless to hide anything from you now that you know my biggest secret.”

I nod, slowly raising my head to look at him again.

The assassin revealed something important that night.

He’s a summoner.

There are not that many people familiar with the art. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone aside from my father’s close circle who knew about it. I’m certain Shade must have met him in the past.

Was he one of father’s student?

Rain patters on the large panel window and thunder grumbles in the distant.

“No one else can know of this ability,” he says, alarm flashing in his eyes. “I’ll be cast out from my caste, or worse, the guild will—”

“I won’t tell anyone, Shade,” I quickly say. “You can trust me.”

Fear is an uncommon emotion on Shade. The assassin has a permanent bored look on his face. He held that tedious expression even as he lay dying back in the sewer.

He lifts his head just enough to look at me. “I committed a crime in Tiamat with this gift. No one can know it’s me.”

The vulnerable gleam in his eyes makes him look like a terrified child.

“What crime? Is it those weapons you stole?” I ask.

The assassin clears his throat. “No, not weapons… a heart.”

I don’t understand… but I recognize the look playing in his eyes. It’s the anxiety a person would feel when it’s more than just their life at stake.

Shade is protecting someone.

“I’m a summoner too.” I share with him my secret to ease his worry. His eyes flick to mine, holding my gaze as if he’s trying to count every blade in my iris.

That’s right.

I remember the first time I tried to use the ability in Astefar.

Blaire and I were so hungry. I told her about a book I read, of how you can summon anything you want. She said I was lying and called me the girl who cried wolf. So, I had to prove it to her.

“Go ahead. Summon us some chocolate, strawberries, fried rice, marinated lamb, and roasted chicken,” she challenged, crossing her thin arms.

I drew the summoning circle on the forest floor with a stick. Father’s second grimoire said I only need to close my eyes and use my voice to call out whatever I want. I remember the incantations from every page, end to end, because I wanted to impress Father.

“Come out, roasted chicken!” I call forth.

It did not work on the first try. Or the hundred fiftieth. By evening, my voice had become harsh from my parched throat. I tried again in the morning, and the next day, and the day after.

Blaire finally walked up beside me and said, “It doesn’t have to be roasted chicken. Just summon something simple, like a potato or a small fish.”

Despite her skepticism, secretly Blaire wanted me to succeed. We hadn’t eaten anything decent in a week. If we continued to starve, we would’ve been dead in a day or two.

I nodded to her in determination.

“Come to me, fish and chips!” I slammed my hand on the circle.

Nothing happened.

Not at first.

But then the runes I drew began to light up in a chartreuse glow. My heart leaped at the promise of fish and chips.

But I didn’t summon a fish. Or chips.

I had summoned the fearsome river god himself, the majestic giant carp, Caspian.

Blaire and I cowered in fear in front of the terrifying, colossal creature. Heavy mosaic scales covered his elongated body, thicker than any metallic armor.

But he could not survive on land. The god shrank slowly and began flopping on the forest floor like any fish out of water.

We did the responsible thing and dragged the dying deity back to the river. He might be a smaller carp now, but he was the size of a bear, still bigger than me and Blaire. It was a struggle to bring him back to the water.

Somehow, we managed.

With one final push, we slid him back into the water. The god expanded to his full size, growing bigger and bigger, until he was taller than a coconut tree. “I owe you now, little brats. What do you want?”

We should have made a proper wish. He was a god, master of the long Caspian River, no less. The deity could surely grant anything we desired. But we were too scared. Blaire rose up and faced him bravely. “Give us a fish to fry. We’re hungry.”

“You want me to kill my own family?” the giant carp asked.

Blaire’s legs shook at the question.

“Even half a fish is all right,” I whispered, hiding behind Blaire.

I was certain the giant carp would smash us to smithereens for our insolence. He leveled us a pointed stare.

“Very well.”

A fish floated in the air in front of us. We cringed in horror when its eyes suddenly rearranged and move to one side. It divided itself into two separate halves. The river god carefully placed one side with the eye into the water. It continued to swim freely despite one side of its body gone. I didn’t know how the creature remained alive.

Caspian threw the eyeless part to the riverbank for us. “My debt is paid.”

The giant carp returned to the river with a splash.

We fried the half fish and dug in quickly into our meal, surviving another day in Astefar. That was the first time I learned how to summon. I never did learn how to call out food or inanimate objects, but Shade was able to do it in the sewer.

A limitless supply of weapons without a summoning circle…

“I’m a summoner too, Shade,” I repeat, my gaze darting back to him.

The revelation does nothing to blunt his edge. The assassin keeps staring at me as if waiting for something.

After a while, Shade heaves a long breath.

“Figures…” he mutters under that demonic mask.

“It’s a rare ability.” I swallow nervously. “I was just wondering if you perhaps had met my father while he was still alive. Master Reinhart, Head of the Wiolant House. He was a great scholar—”

I cease breathing altogether when Shade slams me to the wall. Shock slices through me as his fingers close around my neck. My hand moved to the hilt of my sword instinctively. I feel the threat to my life.

Help me, Rainer. Help me, Svenn, I cry out silently.

I should have gone straight to my room. This is the price I pay for sneaking around.

Fear splinters through my heart as I look at the assassin in front of me. Shade is glaring at me like he would actually bury a dagger deep into my heart. Lighting flashes, making his features appear more ominous.

His usual dull eyes sharpen on me like a hawk, focusing on every detail on my face. He is looking at me but he’s not really seeing me. I’ve never seen him like this before.

Something is wrong with him.

“It’s me… Shade.” I breathe.

He tilts his head, his eyes still in that trance. His fingers grip my throat tighter, crushing my windpipe.

A low snarl slips through his teeth. “Wiolant?”

It feels dangerous to admit that, to even nod.

“It’s me… Rhianelle…” I whisper to him. “I am a friend.”

But he doesn’t hear me. Shade runs his thumb smoothly over my pulse. Goosebumps erupt on my skin at the touch. Not the romantic kind. This feels intense and deadly, like he’s figuring out a way to snap my neck.

“Back in the sewer… you made me promise to stay alive for the next one hundred and twelve days,” I remind him.

He continues staring, his eyes blank. If he doesn’t let go, I might actually have to hurt him.

“It’s one hundred and seven days now,” I say, desperate to find a way to escape the deadly grip of the Grimsbane.

A long pause.

Then his brows pull in and he blinks. When he opens his eyes again, color reenters his gray irises.

“Your Highness?” he asks, his voice hoarse.

The assassin releases me and stares at his hand. A light cough wrecks through his throat, shaking through his body, and he crumbles to the floor. I take the opportunity to pull away and escape.

For some reason, I turn back to look at him. The Grimsbane lays on the marbled tile, breathing heavily, knuckles white as he fists the bed sheet trying to push himself up. I should have just run and left him there. He tried to kill me…

But he looks so vulnerable and weak that I can’t bring myself to do it. I ease him from the floor and lay him down gently on the bed.

His body trembles and he is on the verge of passing out from the exertion. He suddenly snatches my hand. “I’m sorry.”

I find myself speechless as I look at him. Shade was happily eating the meat pie earlier. That burst of violence came after hearing Reinhart Wiolant’s name.

“Has my father wronged you, Shade?” I squeeze back Shade’s callous, scarred hand.

A brief flash of indignation flashes through his eyes at the mention of my father again.

He gives a small nod.

My heart nearly ceases beating in my chest.

“Did he hurt you?” My lips quiver at the question.

Pain and sorrow mingle in his eyes, and he falls to a complete silence. I can feel my blood turning colder and colder the longer he doesn’t speak.

“Not me. Someone else. Someone I cared for deeply,” he finally replies, his voice turning grave.

My eyes sting and I fight the urge to cry. I can’t imagine what Shade has been through. I know nothing of his life as an assassin in Tiamat. How he would even know my father is beyond me. All I want to do is force the answer out from him. But I know I can’t do that.

“I’ll tell you about it someday,” he mutters before closing his eyes.

I tuck the injured assassin back to bed. Shade has always been an open book, someone easy for me to read between the lines. Right now, he’s almost indecipherable as the Velphyr’s codexes.

I make sure the Grimsbane is comfortable before leaving him. I’m used to hearing horrific tales of what mother had done during the Age of Conquest, but no one ever whispered a single bad thing about father. He was completely opposite to her. Reinhart Wiolant was a soft-spoken scholar loved by everyone around him. His work was well regarded by the elven, dwarven, fae, and orkan intellectuals across the continent.

Shade might be the first person who has such a reaction to him. Something must have happened. Part of me is afraid to find out. But I need to know the truth. Even if it will tarnish my memory of Reinhart Wiolant.