Chapter 3 Rhianelle #2
“You seduced a Grimsbane. I think you should hold your horses on the fae princess,” I say, lightening up the mood once again.
He loosens another chuckle and I realize how beautiful he is in the moonlight.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
“You’re not how I pictured the Commander of the Valorian would be,” I mutter in the quiet. I feel obligated to tell him about my dream in return.
“I’ve had several strange ones too the past few days. There’s a voice calling me….” I pause momentarily, failing to put it into words.
Understanding sweeps across his face. “Ah… like a call for adventure?”
“Something like that,” I say. I don’t know why I’m telling him this. It’s just easy talking to Garrett.
“Or it could be a call from your mate.”
I whirl to look at him. “That is rare…” Downright legendary and mythical. It may be common among orcs and fae, but one in a million for elves.
“But not impossible. My uncle confessed to hearing a tune in the middle of the battlefield. It carried him to his mate.” He shrugs. “It happened to your own knight, Darstan.”
It did.
“Compared to that powerful tie, the Arawynn bond is nothing but a contract.”
“It’s still sacred,” I whisper in respect to our ancestors and gods.
A comfortable silence falls between us, and I start reading the book. After a while, I feel Garrett’s warm breath tickling against my neck. He has fallen asleep against me with half his blanket wrapped around my shoulder. I don’t know how I went from trying to kill this guy to snuggling with him.
I touch his face softly. “Wake up.”
He stirs, opening his eyes groggily. His gaze remains fixed on me for a moment. “It’s getting cold now. Come.”
I take his strong, capable hand and he lifts me to my feet easily. I follow him silently into the warm comfort of his room.
“My father has seen the darkest part of war and what it did to both sides. Please don’t think too harshly of him. He is a good person.”
So are you, I almost say.
Compassionate, strong, and kind. For a moment, I can see what Aelfheim would be under his rule. “I think you would make a great king—”
“If I am crowned, I will march our armies to Avalon the very next morning to avenge my brother.”
The fierce words stun me to a silence.
“There’s a rotten part of me that craves revenge. I would damn us all with my vengeance,” he says, a dark tension in his voice.
There is no lie in that promise. Something cold resides in Garrett’s fierce emerald eyes. I glimpse the flash of destruction, flames and chaos blazing in them.
He offers me his long sword and I take it numbly.
“What are you doing?” I say, my voice barely a whisper when he places the pointed end to his chest.
“This is something I’ve decided from the moment my name was incinerated in front of the gods. I never intended to win the Archon.” He smiles softly.
I try to lower the heavy weapon. “But you know the truth now. I’m just a young elfling.”
“The Aldarelfs are in a constant power struggle. The High Elven Council will eat itself inside out without you. Our people need you as queen.”
My heart squeezes in its chest as I meet his unwavering stare in the dark.
“You don’t understand. I’m always scared, Garrett.
So scared. Every time I enter that chamber, fear takes hold of me.
I dread every single second,” I confess.
Only Aelfric and Darstan know how much I cower and shiver before each council session. “I’m just good at pretending.”
Garrett pulls me into his arms. “That’s perfectly fine. It’s alright to be afraid,” he says, his warm breath dancing across my skin. “What matters is you showed up. Every single day. Without fail.”
“The Aeonians are starting to doubt—”
“Those cold bastards never cared for this kingdom. All they want is more land, more power.” Every word on his tongue is treason.
Tears burn behind my eyes. “I don’t know what I’m doing most of the time.”
“I don’t believe that for a second.” He pulls away to place a soft kiss on my temple. “The heavens blessed you for a reason.”
It’s blasphemy, but I think the mark is a mistake. “What if the gods are wrong?”
“Then it doesn’t matter what the gods chose.” He shakes his head. “I choose you as my queen.”
The commander lowers himself, dropping to his knees in front of me. That calm and unwavering belief on his face leaves me speechless.
“Do not feel sorry for me. I will go knowing that I leave this kingdom safe in your hands,” he comforts me. “I believe in you, Queen Rhianelle.”
My mind starts picturing a reality that if I had met him before his father issued the challenge, under different circumstances, at a different time, Garrett and I could have set out on a journey from Aelfheim and never returned. We’d take Aelfric with us too.
“We could have been friends,” I mutter to myself.
“Perhaps in some other universe we are,” he agrees with a broad smile. “Best of friends.”
But not in this one. Not in this universe ruled by traditions set by the Aeonians.
He sees my hesitation. In half a heartbeat, the long sword is embedded in his neck. If it weren’t for my hands halting the course of the sharp blade, it would have severed his artery.
“Garrett, wait!” I cry out, fighting against his immense strength. His hand shakes, trying to bury the weapon deeper.
Blood trickles down from the wound, forming rivulets down to his chest. He meant what he said.
“Alright! I’ll do it!” I struggle desperately. “Please.”
He relents at my promise to follow through and releases the blade. My heart caves inside of its chest as I look into his eyes. “Any last words?”
“I hope you will spare him.” He gestures to the Grimsbane sleeping in his bed.
“I make no promises,” I say bitterly. I’m angry at Garrett, at myself, at the Aeonians’ archaic laws, at this stupid situation I’m stuck in.
The commander seems almost regretful. He takes my trembling hand and angles the blade against his neck once again.
“Strike hard and true,” Garrett says calmly. “Go where the song leads you Queen Rhianelle, far beyond the confines of these walls.”
My childish heart wants to tell him; We’ll go together.
But the logical part of me knows it’s impossible. The tradition of the Archon must be upheld.
“Are you truly prepared to give me your life, Garett son of Clayborne?” I raise the blade high, readying for the kill.
“Always, my queen.”
I close my eyes and strike.