Chapter 2 Rhianelle #2
I follow his gaze to the members of House Clayborne. Gerailt tosses his head back, laughing deeply over something his little nieces and nephews said.
“They have so many children in their household…” Aelfric swallows his words, the depth in his voice near painful. His remaining blue eye clashes with mine, and I hold that gaze. The knight has always been by my side after Aerin’s death. He even earned a nickname from Lady Deirdre;
The Queen’s shadow.
My friend is no one’s shadow.
“I can’t lose you, Aelfric.” I shake my head desperately.
“You won’t,” he promises solemnly. “Have faith in me, Rhianelle.”
“May I have this dance?” A smooth voice accosts us.
I turn around to find Gerailt Clayborne, the challenger to my throne offering his hand to me.
Aelfric’s back stiffens at his sudden appearance. Energy crackles in the air as the two warriors stare one another down.
“Come now. I’m not going to harm her,” Gerailt coaxes gently. “My father would never allow me to desecrate Merafall. I swear on my honor as a Commander of the Valorian and a servant of Kvatosh.”
My knight remains unmoving, his expression turning lethal.
The golden-haired Valorian merely shrugs. “I’m going to steal her from you no matter how much you seethe. Let’s not make a spectacle here, Aelf.”
A vein pulses in Aelfric’s jaw over his new nickname, the only sign of his displeasure.
“It’s just a dance,” I finally say quietly.
The knight steps aside, nodding politely. He gives me a quick smile that doesn’t reach his eye. I see the warning in his face.
Careful.
“Shall we?” Gerailt bridges the distance between us in a smooth step, and I take his hand.
“Commander Gerailt,” I begin as we reach the center of the dance floor.
A wicked gleam flashes in his emerald eyes.” My friends call me Garrett.”
“But we are not friends, are we?” I arch a brow.
“We could be,” he says with an easygoing smile. It’s so sincere and genuine that it takes me off guard.
His other hand slides to the groove of my back.
My heart becomes a thundering pulse in my chest as he draws me closer.
I feel the corded muscle beneath the suit; a warrior, tried and true.
I know the dance, each practical spin and rotation.
It’s easy to follow him as he leads me through the tempo.
I’m going to use this opportunity to gauge his weakness. But I wish I could just let go.
Garrett notes the stiffness in my movement. “Tomorrow, we will be enemies. Let us enjoy the night, sweet queen,” he says casually, his eyes sparkling.
Soon, my shoulders begin to relax, and we both fall into the soft rhythm of the music.
I’m supposed to be wary of him, but the commander is such a fantastic dance partner.
I fight the urge to smile as he twirls me with confident, unfaltering steps.
My legs will scream with pain tomorrow, but I don’t care.
I melt to the sound of violins and harps, almost dropping my High Elf mask.
The waltz ends and a softer song takes its place. I study his profile up close, trying to catch a glimpse of a soul or a hint of the cold-blooded warrior that lurks behind the handsome face.
“What are you thinking about?” I ask before I can stop myself.
He gives me another flash of that disarming smile. “I’m thinking my brother was right. You are the most beautiful elf in all of Aelfheim.”
How sweet and charming. Pity I must kill him.
The same thought is probably racing through his head right now.
His gaze drops to my left foot for the fourth or fifth time.
I swallow the anxiety in my throat. Not even Aelfric, Rainer, or Lady Deirdre know of my lame leg.
I’ve hidden it so well for years. Has he noticed my weakness?
This dance was a stupid mistake.
“I’ve been wondering of your choice for tomorrow,” he suddenly drawls. “Will you honor me with a Duel or will you crush my house with Damnation?”
“My skill with swords isn’t as good as the Servant of Kvatosh,” I evade his question.
The easiness disappears from his face instantly. “Then name your champion. I’ll fight against anyone you choose.”
“If I opted for Duel, the one you may be facing is my knight, Aelfric Lightning Feet,” I say, glaring at him. “Aerin Wiolant’s sole apprentice.”
He chuckles low under his breath. “Like I said, it’d be an honor. Send both of your knights my way for the Duel.”
I bite my inner cheeks at his reply. There’s a certain arrogance about him that infuriates me.
Sorrow suddenly falls on his face. “It’s better than the other option of destroying my entire house by the rules of Damnation. I think neither of us would want a repeat of the tragedy fifty years ago.”
It’s a day I will never forget.
King Theign the Bane seized the mantle from my mother by butchering our entire household.
He knew that most of House Wiolant’s strength was on a campaign with Rainer in the north.
Aerin and I survived by hiding in the giant flowerpot in the garden.
I can still remember my sister’s voice as she crept out of the pot when the moon was at its highest.
Stay here. Don’t come out for anyone else but me.
Theign’s reign was a short one as Aerin put him and his men to the sword that same night. When she came to retrieve me, the Mark of the Blessed had appeared on my face. My sister crowned me as Queen and the entire Kingdom bowed before me.
I lift my chin to look at Garrett’s jade eyes. “Do you believe I am capable of doing such a thing?”
He opens his mouth to say something but then thinks better of it.
The music comes to a sudden halt.
Garrett holds my gaze for several seconds. A strained, soft smile curves his lips. “I wish my father hadn’t made the challenge.”
I wish the challenge didn’t even exist. I do not wish to kill this beautiful person.
“I have a favor, Queen Rhianelle. When you do come for my life…” he lowers his head to whisper against the shell of my ear. “Make sure the blade is sharp.”
Aelfric is in the company of a beautiful lady in a red velvet gown.
I sneak from the festive hall silently, carefully evading him.
I can’t keep wasting my time here. I need to go back to my room and strategize for the Archon.
The irony of planning a fight on the night to celebrate Mera the Goddess of Peace isn’t lost on me.
A prickle of awareness shoots down my spine as I travel the long passage lined with tall windows. My heart stammers the moment I notice a presence hanging from the wall. The figure cackles like a rabid dog as he lands on the floor.
“What do we have here?” he taunts, his voice rasping. The lower half of his face is hidden behind the mask of a monster with serrated teeth. It adds several notches of terror to his creepy presence. I recognize the dark tactical suit instantly.
This male is a Grimsbane. Highly trained assassins from Tiamat known for their brutality and efficient kills.
He prowls towards me, the massive metallic claws from his elongated arms dragging on the floor. Such body modification is not rare in the fractured region. Any advantage could be the difference between life and death.
My hand inches to the blade strapped to my thigh. Long Hand merely snickers over the small movement. I can tell he relishes in bringing fear and pain to his opponent. The pounding in my chest picks up its pace.
Leather-gloved hands suddenly pin the deformed Grimsbane’s head to the wall. I wince at the sound of Long Hand’s skull cracking under the force of that grip.
“Let go of me,” the assassin screams to the tall grey-haired male.
Any crumb of relief in my heart falters the moment I see the same half mask over my savior’s face.
Another Grimsbane. Now there’s two of them.
The grey-haired male’s mask is generic and worn out as if he couldn’t be bothered with his appearance.
If he’s willing to hurt his ally, the odds are he won’t hesitate to do the same to me.
I study the arsenal of weapons across his chest and the two blades strapped to his back. I wonder which one he will use first.
“Apologize,” the new arrival commands.
“Fuck you—”
The grey-haired stranger smashes him into the wall again. I suppress a gasp at the sudden violence. The Grimsbane are soldiers without a moral compass. No mercy is granted, not even to his fellow friend. Their fealty lies in those who can pay the steep price their guild demands.
“I’m sorry!” Long Hand cries out loud.
“To her. Not me.” His voice is firm and serves its purpose. Obey or be killed.
“Forgive me, please,” the Grimsbane pleads to me.
“The Queen of Aelfheim demands your name,” I say to the intruders, masking my fear with a perfect High Elf eloquence.
The grey-haired male’s dull eyes narrow on me. There’s something about the easy danger he emanates that makes me fear him more than Long Hand.
“Shade,” he answers with ease, releasing Long Hand from his grasp. “And this one is Carver. Your uncle calls for you.”
“My uncle?” I crane my neck to look at him.
“He is our Silverra,” he says blandly.
The one with coins.
A title awarded by the assassin’s guild to their benefactor. Rainer hired these mercenaries?
Shade gestures for me to follow them to the courtyard. I stare at him for several seconds, at the scar over his right eye, at the no-nonsense, dull look in his eyes before finally taking a step towards him.
“Walk first,” he says to Carver. “She doesn’t want you tailing her.”
Nothing fills the air but the sound of their boots beating against the marble floor. Anxiety curdles in my stomach over the presence of my two companions. They could be leading me to my death for all I know.
But Shade was right. Walking behind them does give me a small sense of security. The three of us travel to the pathway linking the palace to one of the Wiolant’s safe houses without words. Rainer and I rarely visit the main estate anymore after the Theign massacre.