Chapter 1 Rhianelle
Ierupt into consciousness with a scream. My heart is in a frantic beat as I touch my lower lip.
A dream. That’s all it was.
But I can still taste him in my mouth, feel his warmth lingering on my skin.
I touch my left leg where Eirik had stabbed me in the dream. A purplish bruise has formed over the site. It doesn’t hurt much but the old injury deep inside starts throbbing. I massage the muscles silently, suppressing the terrible memories from surfacing.
The double door creaks open. Lady Deirdre goes still the moment she glimpses me sprawled on the floor. She immediately rushes to kneel beside me, the movement causing a strand to fall forward from her neatly pinned blonde hair.
“Another nightmare?” she asks, her soft hand touching my shoulder.
I nod.
“They’re sometimes prophecy for the things to come,” she mutters softly. The weight of her words brings an ominous feeling to my heart.
She restores my ankle silently with the blessings granted by Anastarros.
The pain gradually ebbs away. It had taken the healer one hundred seventy-nine years of cultivation to be this good.
While fae have their powers awarded to them from the moment they are born, elves have to gather our blessings by spending years in the temple of our Gods.
The concerned look on Lady Deirdre’s face does not fade. “Shall I notify Seneschal Kearne of your absence from council today?”
I test my legs before going to the bath. “No. I have to be there.”
“You’re flushed. There is something else,” she mutters with keen eyes. “Would you like to talk about it?”
I reply with a small shake of my head. I want to tell her that I’ve won this time, that Eirik Bloodhound was dead, murdered in cold blood by a strange man. But I can’t confess to Lady Deirdre that I was licked and bitten by the guy afterwards.
And that I liked it.
I’ll keep the odd dream to myself for now.
A light gesture with her hand signals the arrival of my handmaidens, Tallula and Lenna. I quickly school my face to a High Elf mask of calm.
The two elflings enter the room in their usual gray dress. Their light brown hair is tied into a neat braid like most young acolytes. It’s hard to tell them apart even though they’re not really twins.
“Isn’t this a bit much?” I gaze at the fierce emerald gown they present me. It’s far too ostentatious for a regular council meeting.
“Please, Your Highness. Your uncle wants you to wear this,” Tallula answers timidly. “It truly compliments your lilac eyes.”
“Rainer sent these?” Lady Deirdre intervenes, studying the garment like it’s an opponent. The disdain is clear on her face. She is all too familiar with my uncle’s schemes. “What is he up to this time?”
“I shall find another dress for you,” Lenna quickly says, fearing Lady Deirdre’s ire.
“That’s quite all right,” I say evenly, letting them carry their tasks.
My uncle must have bribed them for this suggestion. I know Tallula has been saving for a pair of glass slippers and Lenna wants tickets for the latest opera in town. Rainer can be convincing with his offers. Everyone could use the extra coin this festive season.
Lady Deirdre presses her lips tightly together. “That is enough, girls.”
They bow dutifully before leaving.
“Did you catch Darian the Nightwalker Prince last night?” Lenna’s soft voice echoes from the hallway on their way out. “It was so romantic. I hope the princess escapes the beast and finds her ever after with the prince.”
My ears perk over their discussion. I listen to every scrap of information hungrily.
It would be nice if I could go with them.
I let out a long breath, dropping the High Elf pretense as soon as the door closes. Lady Deirdre places a hand on my shoulder. Her smile is soft as she looks at me through the mirror. “I will get you the summary text for the play. Would you like that?”
Heat rises to my cheeks. The longing in my eyes must have been obvious. “Yes, please.”
“Rainer may be a conniving fool but by the gods…” Deirdre exhales and pauses from brushing my hair. “You look absolutely stunning, Rhianelle.”
Her eyes mist, and she suddenly wraps me in her arms. I listen to her soft cries as they rumble through her body.
“It’s like throwing a kitten in an ocean full of sharks,” she mutters into my hair.
I’ve done it again. I’ve made her worry. The weight of our secret must be getting to her. “I’ll be fine,” I assure her.
“I know you will,” she says, squeezing me a second longer than usual. “Your shadow is here.”
Flowers bloom in my chest. The reason Lady Deirdre removed my darling handmaidens early is only partly for my sake. The main reason is standing right before me as I open the door.
Aelfric Wynsgrave, my royal knight.
He is handsome and gallant in his resplendent silver armor today. Not even the patch over his left eye or the constant grim look on his face could deter the girls from gushing over his beauty.
“Keep this one out of trouble,” Lady Deirdre says to Aelfric, kissing my cheek.
“Will do,” he replies, giving her his winning smile. Bubbles of warmth envelop me as I take his offered hand. The red-carpeted pathway muffles our footsteps as we walk in complete silence.
“I want five minutes tonight,” I try to bargain, once we are far enough down the hall.
“We agreed on three.”
“Four minutes, please.”
“We’ll see.” Aelfric chuckles, adjusting the black strap of his eyepatch over his short clipped blonde hair. His injury is a constant reminder of the horror that befell my sister and her company. Eirik ordered a demon to gouge Aelfric’s left eye right out of its socket.
A wave of grief washes over me, twisting my insides. It’s been twenty years since Aerin was cruelly taken from me, but it feels like it was just yesterday. The blinding pain never ceases. Darkness begins to claim my vision at the haunting memory.
Aelfric pulls me into his arms. “Remember when we were kids, you made an endless list of the places you wanted to visit?” His breath ruffles my hair. “Count them.”
“The giant libraries in Darvan Mountain, the Orc fish market of Myrkheim, the fields of roses in Avalon.” Air returns to my lungs with every recount.
I feel his hand stroking my back, anchoring me back to the present. “Breathe, Rhianelle.”
I let the feeling of his body and his warm sage scent engulf me as I slowly gather myself.
Bright sunlight greets me the moment I open my eyes.
Aelfric has brought us to the window. If I squint, I can see the tall walls of the Atlas from this distance.
Nothing can bypass those walls or the powerful magic created by our Elders.
Not fae. Not wyverns.
As long as I stay here, nothing can ever harm me. But that’s the thing, I do not wish to remain in Aelfheim. My heart longs to wander into the strange regions across the realm.
“I want to see them all,” I mutter quietly to his chest.
Aelfric strokes my hair softly. “One day, I’ll take you to those wonderful places.”
Empty promises. None of those childish dreams will come true. We both know I’m shackled to the throne.
If there is truly somewhere I’m destined to go, it will be the Palace of Bones in Avalon, where I will kill Eirik Bloodhound. But I can never outsmart the Fae King, not even in my dreams. It is always he who arrives at my doorstep to burn down this kingdom—it is always my head that rolls.
Until last night…
Try as I might, I can’t recall the face of the warrior who rescued me. All I can remember is the feeling of being in his arms. I’ve never felt so safe.
“I have something for you,” Aelfric says, breaking my thoughts.
Something in my chest caves in at the gift in his hand.
Rowan berries.
Aerin and I never missed collecting them on Merafall. I look up to him and see the grief rippling those cerulean eyes. Of course, Aelfric misses her too.
“I’m alright now,” I say, pulling away reluctantly to continue our journey. I take one last look at the horizon, wondering what it’s like outside the walls. I bet the air is different. My left foot protests when we pick up our pace. I don’t want to be late today of all days.
Fear strikes me the moment I glimpse the tall, lean elf lingering at the holy chamber entrance.
Dark tribal tattoos of the Kashran clan cover his hands.
They extend all the way to his arms and neck underneath the immaculate dark emerald suit that not even the Aldarelfs could afford.
A male who bleeds power and dominance. Not one guard dares to question his presence even though he is banned from walking the halls of the palace.
My uncle turns towards me, and I do my best not to react.
On the left side of his face, Rainer Wiolant is one of the most beautiful elves in all of Aelfheim.
Old, mighty, and powerful warrior blood of the Volundr run in his veins.
But the upper half of the right side of his face, behind the obsidian mask, is completely disfigured and wrinkled like raisins.
Tallula once cried at the mere sight of him.
He earned the disfigurement a decade ago, torched by an orc general when he tried to avenge Aerin.
Rainer doesn’t so much as look at Aelfric. His attention is entirely focused on me. I see the displeasure in his eyes.
“Is something wrong?” I ask, unease coiling in my gut. It’s unusual for my uncle to let any emotion slip away. Something is rattling him today.
“Clayborne is here.” I hear the silent rage in that tone. “Things may be a bit difficult with that stubborn fool in court.”
Pride and satisfaction enter his eyes the moment he registers the dress. Rainer erases every trace of irritation on his face, replacing it with the cold, calculating look only a High Elf can muster. “But it won’t be long now. We will finally get what we want.”
I force a smile for him. “We’ll see what the court decides, Uncle.” My version of don’t get your hopes up. I don’t dare meet his gaze as I take my bow to leave.
Aelfric strides a little closer to me after the brief encounter.