Chapter 3 Rhianelle
Rather than wait for Rainer to unleash his Grimsbane on the Claybornes tomorrow, I strap on my best leather and cloak and head out into the night towards Elvarstyne keep. Lord Clayborne’s estate is modest in size and easy to navigate.
Please give me the strength to do this. I pray to the Un and the Seventy-Seven who reign the heavens.
Three heavily armed sentries patrol the ground.
It seems the Aldarelf has tightened the security tonight.
Smart. I pause halfway along the elegant passageway, listening to the sound of their fading footsteps.
I’ve spent the better part of the hour memorizing their rotations.
If there is a sudden shift or new addition, I will have to risk it.
Garrett’s bedchamber should be in the eastern building.
“Hit that searchlight again,” a female guard orders as she saunters down the spiral staircase. Her pink ear muffs are so adorable until I see the feline Grimsbane mask covering her face.
“We just did a sweep,” the sentry wearing the scarlet wolf crest of House Clayborne complains.
“If you want your lordling to live, do as I say,” she says sharply.
I keep myself in the shadows, biding my time until they disappear. There goes my plan of scaling the wall. I creep under the cover of darkness to enter through the servants’ quarters until I reach the silver doorframe of Garrett’s room.
I can pick every single lock in Aelfheim but this one will be difficult. It’s dwarven made.
Made to be as sturdy and stubborn as the creature who created it, Aerin once told me.
It’s not impossible but it will take time to unravel the hidden puzzle inside the metal piece.
I check the entry to the adjacent room. Thank heavens whoever is in charge of security in the Elvarstyne keep is not bright enough to use this lock on every door.
I break into the study easily. Now, it’s simply a matter of waiting for the searchlight outside to pass.
I clamber over the rail as silent as a mouse. It’s a little slippery from the night dew but I regain my balance quickly and leap towards his balcony. My feet land nimbly on the cold marble floor. No one hears me, not even the night wind.
With one push of the white door, Garrett’s room is sprawled before me in all its splendor. Light flickers from the tiered candlelight at his bedside. My grip on the dagger tightens. Now comes the hard part. A male lies asleep beside Garrett wearing nothing but a wolfish mask on his face.
Another Tiamat assassin.
I will have to kill this other guy too. Better them than the innocent children.
This is the right thing to do, I tell myself repeatedly.
But I find myself stalling the inevitable. I pace the room nervously, taking the time to look at the lovely wooden carvings in the glass cabinet. I poke at one, an adorable plump cat. The bat next to it is cute too.
“I knew you’d come for me tonight.”
Blood drains from my face at that silken voice.
Garrett moves slowly, careful not to wake the sleeping male beside him.
He raises a finger to his mouth, signaling me to keep quiet.
Even with the blanket draping over his shoulders, I can tell he is all muscle; chiseled and honed to perfection.
A skillful warrior of the temple of Kvatosh, servant of the God of War and Chaos himself.
This dagger in my hand must seem like a toy to him.
There is pity in Garrett’s eyes as he gazes over the muscular back of the undressed male beside him, riddled with countless gruesome scars. “My father struck a deal with the Guild of Assassins in Tiamat for his service. This guy is my personal guard until the Archon is complete.”
“Not much of a guard if he’s out cold,” I mutter softly. “The Aeonians said the Grimsbane are cursed with a face so hideous that people die from a single glimpse.”
“Those old farts are filthy, fucking liars. He is beautiful,” Garrett curses, pulling the duvet to cover the assassin’s body. The Valorian’s animosity towards the Elders is baffling. He practically works for them.
“I’m guessing you evaded the other one?” he asks, his voice rumbling in the quiet. “It took almost all the coins in my father’s coffers to bring the two of them. A century’s worth of harvest.”
“Rainer hired twenty-seven of them,” I blurt.
“Then you are well prepared for tomorrow.” Garrett smiles, wiping the traces of Black Orchid poison from his neck. He must have used it on the Grimsbane guard, but I can’t figure out his reason. “Why have you come tonight?”
I don’t answer him.
“Pick up your sword. I’ll honor you with the duel you want,” I say, backing away as he prowls closer.
He ignores my words, gathering a book from his nightstand.
“You will not win, my queen,” he says, casting a sympathetic look at me. “I have won the Tavas seventeen years in a row now. Your knight Aelfric in his prime, has only won four.”
“Aelfric is still in his prime,” I grumble quietly.
“So why are you here instead of him?”
I swallow, my throat dry.
“My best guess is that you have no confidence in your knight winning against me,” he answers his own question. “So, you’ve come here tonight to assassinate me in my sleep.”
There is no judgement in his eyes, only curiosity. “You have everything to gain by bringing down that dagger upon my heart. Why didn’t you do it?”
“I was about to.”
“You’ve been contemplating for almost an hour,” he says with a humorless smile.
Heat rises to my cheeks. Garrett was watching me the entire time.
“The guard two levels below us is smoking his pipe, the cook in the kitchen is making himself a late-night meal,” he suddenly says. “It’s an awareness I have as a servant of Kvatosh. I served His temple for sixty-nine years.”
That is the longest anyone can stand the harsh training to cultivate the blessings of the God of War. Even my uncle only stayed for thirty years.
Now Garrett is bragging in his hubris. I already know how strong he is.
“Let’s have a duel right here and now.” I glare at him. “I can hold my own just fine.”
His sharp emerald eyes shoot to me. “Oh, I know you can. I’m telling you all that because…” he pauses momentarily. “I couldn’t sense your presence at all when you entered.”
Gone is the warm demeanor. Garrett looks every bit like the menacing warrior he’s supposed to be. I remember how Rainer’s expression usually darkens the same way whenever he encounters a worthy opponent.
“I’ve dishonored my deity.” He stretches his neck, preparing for a fight. “I checked your background. You spent less than a year in each temple but never registered your Prime. Who is the main God you serve?”
The commanding tone in his voice prompts me to answer.
“The Un.”
The male takes a step back. His jaw clenches and unclenches. “The Forgotten Gods?”
I merely nod.
A long stretch of silence passes between us as he stares at me unblinking. His lips curve to a smile until a burst of laughter escapes him. It’s the nice and deep kind, which makes it more infuriating.
My face burns once again.
Garrett struggles to rein it in. “I’m sorry. I can’t help myself. You are an interesting one.”
He strides across the room, opening the door leading to the outside balcony.
I notice he left his blade on the table, taking nothing but the book.
A servant of Kvatosh can kill a person with their bare hands.
Maybe he plans to smash the hardcover on my head.
I keep my guard up as I follow him to the patio.
“A servant of the Un…” he muses to the distant stars. “There is a reason they are forgotten. Those gods don’t even have a proper temple.”
I add nothing to his words.
“There was a myth about a wild girl who got lost in the dark woods of Astefar,” he finally says, his sharp emerald eyes glinting in the dark. “It was you.”
Rainer and Aerin did their best to erase my past. But now I am found.
“How did you survive in the wilderness of that godforsaken forest?” he asks, his dark gaze set on me.
I stay silent.
His brows scrunch together as if piecing a puzzle in his head.
“Temple years don’t count…” Garrett runs a hand across his jaw then rakes it through his golden hair. “If I assume Astefar is the Domain of the Un, this means you’re barely seventy years of age.”
Sixty-eight years old to be exact. I swallow nervously as he casually spills my secret into the night air. His eyes remain locked on mine. “You’re not even a High Elf, are you?”
My heart races wildly at the question. He knows I’m an imposter. A little elf playing queen. I suddenly feel small.
“An elfling…” he muses as he watches me.
The intensity of that dark stare pierces straight to my heart.
Instead of calling for the sentries, Garrett turns away.
I watch closely as he settles on the granite edge, dangling his feet to read his book.
I don’t understand what he’s doing but the male has his back turned on me now. He’s completely open and vulnerable.
Do I bury the dagger between his shoulder blades?
For some reason, I choose to follow him instead. I don’t dare sit too close in case he decides to push me off the ledge. I glance at the book in his hand; Captured.
“You’ve smuggled human literature?” I ask curiously.
He passes the book into my hand. “My brother did.”
“I’m sorry about Hakkan.”
“He wouldn’t shut up about you. It’s never the same without him,” he says, sorrow and longing swirling in his voice. I follow his gaze to the distant Atlas. “I wish a fae princess would kidnap me already.”
My eyes widen at that random confession.
“I dreamt of it a week ago.” He chuckles, low and soft.
“You know what they say about dreams woven by Somnus,” I drawl.
“Premonitions of the things to come,” he finishes for me. “I grew up in Aelfheim all my life. I love this kingdom, every brick and every stone, but the walls have become suffocating.”
His feeling echoes my own. Most of us young elves have never stepped out of the capital. There are times when I feel like a finch trapped in a golden cage.