Chapter 34 Svenn #3
When I return inside, Rhianelle is still kneeling beside the chalk circle. Shade looks at me questioningly.
“He left,” I say.
Lucien lowers his head onto his paws again.
Rhianelle studies him for a moment, but she does not ask. Instead, she places her hands over the crystals and begins the spell.
The last thread of Rhianelle’s magic sinks into Lucien’s body. The chalk circle flashes once, then fades.
For several breaths, nothing happens.
The wolf’s spine suddenly arches. His dark coat ripples as bone and muscle shift beneath it. Shade drops to one knee beside him while Rhianelle holds the spell steady, her hands glowing with pale golden light.
A moment later, an elf lies inside the circle where the wolf had been.
Lucien draws a deep breath and opens his sapphire eyes. Shade immediately throws a blanket over him before I have to.
With visible effort, he slowly pushes himself upright. He swallows once, then touches his throat.
“Did it work?” he asks. His voice is rough from disuse.
Rhianelle smiles. “It worked.”
Lucien closes his eyes. Relief passes across his face as he draws another breath. “I forgot what my own voice sounded like.”
Shade settles beside him, one hand hovering near his shoulder as though he is prepared to catch him if he falls. “Your voice still sounds irritating.”
Lucien opens one eye. “You missed it.”
Shade ignores him. “How long do you think it will last this time?”
Rhianelle studies the fading runes. “Half a day.”
She says it with such confidence that even Lucien looks surprised.
“I think I understand the spell now,” she continues. “The next step is turning it into a potion. Then Lucien can take it whenever he needs to change, even when I’m not nearby.”
Lucien stares at her. Hope moves across his face. My wife is brilliant. She says impossible things as though they are merely problems waiting to be solved.
“Now that you have your body back, come and help me.” Shade crosses to the table and returns carrying a large woven basket filled with wooden animals, cloth dolls, and painted spinning tops.
Rhianelle peers inside. “What are these?”
Shade picks up a doll. “For the orphanage near the beach.”
“We’re heading that way to visit Kiiska and Kae’ko.” Rhianelle reaches for the basket. “Let me take them. I promise I won’t tell anyone the terrifying Grimsbane assassin spent his morning buying toys for children.”
Shade gives her a withering look.
Lucien laughs. It is the first sound I have heard from him that resembles happiness.
We say our goodbyes quietly and leave them to catch up. Barely halfway down the street, Coral bounds around the corner and nearly bowls Rhianelle over.
“There you are,” Rhianelle says, laughing as the pale wyvern presses her snout against her stomach. “Were you looking for us?”
Coral chirps and falls into step beside her as though she has been invited along.
The little wyvern is supposed to follow the road, but she keeps darting into gardens to investigate anything that moves. She chases a flock of white birds, steals an apple from an unattended cart and tries to bury it beneath a flower bed when Rhianelle catches her.
“Coral.”
The wyvern freezes with dirt covering her snout.
Rhianelle puts her hands on her hips. “That does not belong to you.”
Coral slowly pushes the apple deeper into the hole.
Rhianelle tries to remain stern, but a laugh escapes her. Coral chirps triumphantly and digs faster.
By the time we reach the beach, Rhianelle is still smiling.
The orphanage sits near the rebuilt sea wall, close enough that the children can watch the seadragons playing beyond the water gates. The moment they see the queen, they rush toward her.
Rhianelle sets down the basket and kneels among them. Coral immediately disappears beneath a swarm of small hands, rolling onto her back so the children can rub her belly.
“For you,” she says to a small girl with tangled brown hair, handing over a cloth doll. “I heard you lost yours in the flood. This one isn’t the same, but maybe she can keep you company.”
The girl’s eyes go wide. She clutches the doll like it’s made of gold. Rhianelle moves through the group, calling the children by name. She remembers their stories and asks about their hopes.
I remain several paces away and watch her listen to every answer as though nothing in the world could be more important. She praises crooked drawings, admires a boy’s missing tooth, and settles an argument over who receives the blue wooden horse.
Caring for them comes as naturally to her as healing, like she was born for it.
A thought strikes me without warning.
Children.
She’d be an amazing mother. But I can’t give her that.
I’m a vampire. We cannot create life or sire children. I have never wanted them. But I have also never asked Rhianelle whether she does, because I have always been too afraid of her answer.
Rhianelle could have children with someone else, if she wanted. But with me, she never will. It’s another thing I’ve taken from her by loving her. Another sacrifice she’s made without even knowing it.
Rhianelle finishes distributing the gifts and hugs each child goodbye. She promises to return soon, then rises and brushes sand from her dress before turning toward me.
Her face lights up when she sees me.
That smile. The one that makes everything worth it.
“You’re good with them,” I say as she approaches. “The children.”
“They’re sweet,” she says, waving when the little girl lifts her new doll in farewell.
“You’d be a good mother,” I say before I can stop myself.
Rhianelle’s hand lowers. She studies my face, and her smile softens with understanding.
“Is this about us not being able to have children?” she asks gently.
I should have known she’d see right through me.
“Svenn, I don’t want children.” She takes my hand. “I have never even imagined myself with one. Not yet, at least. Maybe not ever. I honestly don’t know.”
“But...”
“We have our hands full,” she continues. “With Coral, teaching Shade to read, rebuilding an entire kingdom.” She shakes her head. “Children would be too much. Right now, it would be too much.”
“But in the future? If you did want them?” I press.
She looks back at the orphanage. “There are so many children here who need homes. I do not think I will be ready anytime soon, but perhaps in the distant future. If we ever decide we want children, Svenn, we will not lack for choices.”
My brows rise. I had been so fixed on everything I cannot give her that the obvious answer never occurred to me.
“Love doesn’t require blood.” She leans up and kisses my cheek.
Rhianelle pulls back, smiles once more, and walks to greet the seadragons.
I watch her cross the beach toward the water. There is grace in every step despite all the wounds she still carries, and strength in the way she refuses to let suffering harden her.
“She’s right, you know.”
I jump and spin around.
Blight is standing beside me, having appeared out of nowhere as she always does. The little trickster goddess wears a smile that promises mischief.
“Blight,” I say warily. “What are you doing here? Were you eavesdropping?”
“Absolutely.” She grins. When she shifts her weight, I notice the dark imprint around her ankle. The Fae King’s handprint remains burned into her skin, the mark refusing to heal completely.
“What do you want?” I ask, already exhausted.
“Nothing. I was merely confirming something,” Blight says, rolling a smooth white stone between her fingers. She ducks slightly behind a flowering bush and peers toward Rhianelle. “I guess Rhianelle truly doesn’t want children.”
My gaze drops to the stone. “What are you scheming?”
“Nothing.” Blight straightens. “You can relax, vampire. I no longer need to make you swallow this.”
She tosses the stone over her shoulder. It arcs through the air and disappears into the sea with a tiny splash.
I go very still. “What do you mean, make me swallow it?”
“It was a fertility stone,” she explains calmly. “One of several methods that might allow a vampire to sire a child.”
My mouth falls open.
Blight lifts one finger. “Another required burying you naked beneath a flowering moon tree for three nights. The last involved borrowing certain parts from a living phoenix, but the phoenixes were being difficult.”
I stare at her.
Blight tilts her head. “If Rhianelle wanted a child, the Un would move worlds to make certain she received one.”
What the fuck?
For several seconds, I cannot form a single word. My mind fills with images of Blight chasing a phoenix with a knife.
“Whatever dark, mischievous thing you were planning, no,” I say firmly. “We do not want it. Leave us alone.”
“Yes, I heard Rhianelle. I’m not deaf.” Blight rolls her eyes. “Her decision will be respected.”
“Blight…”
“Good talk,” she says cheerfully. Then she dissolves into shadow and vanishes as quickly as she appeared.
A fucking fertility stone?
She claims she will respect Rhianelle’s decision, but I do not trust Blight. I would sooner trust Coral alone inside a chicken coop.
“Gods help me,” I mutter to the empty air.
I’m wearing protection from now on. No matter how much Rhianelle pouts, protests, or tries to convince me otherwise. I am never fucking her raw again.
A delighted shriek carries across the beach.
I turn toward the water. Coral has plunged headfirst into the shallows and is snapping playfully at Kiiska’s fins while Kae’ko circles them, sending waves rolling toward the shore. Rhianelle stands knee-deep in the sea, laughing as she tries to coax Coral away from the much larger seadragons.
She notices me watching and waves both arms.
“Svenn! Come play with us!”
Coral chirps and splashes water in my direction. Kiiska answers with a deep call that shakes the surface of the sea.
I glance once at the place where Blight disappeared, then walk toward my wife.
Whatever the gods are planning can wait.
For now, Rhianelle is laughing, the seadragons are alive, and the sun is warm against the water.
I smile and wade into the sea toward the love of my life.