Chapter 15 Rhianelle
The Demon Lord stares at us like we’re a bunch of lunatics. “Let me get this straight, you want the girls to marry that thing?”
Lord Ctibor and Commissioner Eamon nod.
Anger punches straight through my heart. I force myself to inhale deeply before opening my mouth. “I can’t allow you to do this.”
“I’m afraid I do not need your permission,” Eamon says, sending me a withering look.
“Forgive us, Your Highness. Their decree trumps your authority,” Tierra reminds me. “We must see it through.”
The tightness in my chest intensifies. If only I had agreed to do this earlier, these young ones would have been spared.
Ragnar heaves a long breath, shaking his head lightly. “A lot of things can go wrong. That spell you’re so eager to place on your people is from an old language forgotten by time.”
“My berserker speaks the truth,” Kheirall says, staring at the Aldarelfs. “I will not send these girls to their doom.”
The young healer who tended Ragnar in the tent approaches the demons.
“The Savage Fae is a dangerous threat to us,” she says, demurely. “Offering my hand in marriage to buy Aelfheim a future is the least I can do. Please help us.”
Brave words.
If only she didn’t tremble so much while saying them. I can see the trepidation in the faces of these younglings. They are terrified.
Who wouldn’t be?
The demon gives her a weighted stare, as if searching for the truth in her face.
“Fine, I’ll do it,” he finally says. “I’ll be your translator.”
Kheirall still hasn’t fully healed yet. I feel terrible that they’re dragging this injured demon to do their bidding.
Eamon suddenly halts me in my path before I can follow them. “You are to wait in the healing tent, Your Highness.”
The pit of fury churning in my stomach morphs into something dangerous.
I feel like grabbing the girls and running away with them from this place.
A stronger urge rises to simply stop Eamon right here and right now.
Perhaps the near-death experience with the Ashmedai has instilled some backbone in me.
“We’re simply following orders. This is unbearable for me too,” Tierra says with a tremble in her voice, her bandaged eyes falling on the determined young healer. “Taryn is my sister. But we all have to make sacrifices for the greater good.”
She lifts her head to pray to the Goddess Astraea. I follow her gaze to the night sky. The red moonlight from the Sangail Lunae seems to devour even the brightest of stars.
Muted conversations echoing from outside the tent are making me nervous. I take the opportunity to heal Darstan and Aelfric just to distract myself. The latter stares at me with a strange look on his face.
“Are we finally going to talk about it?” he asks, raising a single brow. “Something happened in that dark dungeon.”
Sometimes, I feel like my friend can see into my thoughts. I merely nod, unsure how to answer him. “The vampire was kind to me.”
Surprise registers in his face before a much softer expression graces it. Garrett seems to have a much different reaction to my confession. He kneels in front of me, gathering my hands into his.
“You have a tendency of seeing the good in everything,” the golden-haired knight says, shaking his head. “I love you for it but there is nothing remotely worth saving in that monster.”
Darstan crosses his arms; a sign that he echoes a similar sentiment with Garrett.
The tent’s entry suddenly flaps open. Eamon strides into the room accompanied by five Mhlaryan elves. Anger and irritation radiate from him in waves.
“He will not let us approach without your presence,” he says in one breath. “The Ancient Ones themselves wish to speak to you.”
A sliver of fear goes through me at the request. There is no chance to refuse or delay this meeting until Rainer is awake. The five Mhlaryan elves immediately start chanting, their palms joined in prayer.
Dark wind—power—slams against my face over their spell. The whites in Eamon’s eyes blacken into the shade of death. It is no longer the commissioner standing in front of us. These are the Elders of Aelfheim, the Aeonians.
Suddenly, the air feels stifling to the point that it’s difficult to inhale a single breath. Possessed, Eamon makes a small gesture with his hand and the others start emptying the tent. I leash the terror in my chest, signaling for my knights to leave us as well.
“We’ll be right outside,” Garrett says, casting a lingering look at me.
When all is quiet, the Aeonians fathomless eyes turn on me.
“You’ve had quite the adventure haven’t you, young queen?” they finally say without preamble. There is no mistaking that this wintry voice belongs to the Elders. My heart thunders when he circles around me.
“A sheltered flower no more,” he muses. There is something about the tone that causes a spike of fear in my bloodstream. “We have allowed you to roam freely long enough. It’s time for you to fall in line. Abide to our ruling as it was done by the rulers before you.”
Their revelations don’t come as a surprise to me. It’s the lack of hiding their intentions and secrets now that scares me.
“Eamon will propose our candidates first. But the vampire seems to have some kind of attachment to you,” he says, pinning me in place with that gaze. “Should he insist on choosing you, bind him to this.”
My eyes skim the paper in his hand.
Complete obedience to the elders of Aelfheim.
I blink at the six names listed.
Samara
Leafhdraich
Kabur
Thormein
Siullan
Kafrenn
“And if I refuse?” I dare ask.
His hand wraps around my arm in a flash, yanking it above my head. It’s so unexpected I have little time to react.
“There is no ‘if.’ You will do as we say,” they say, squeezing hard. My vision begins to cloud from the agonizing pain. I draw in a sharp breath.
“Let go,” I choke.
“Deviate a single word from this decree, your uncle, your knights, and everyone you’ve ever loved will be considered traitors to Aelfheim,” they warn, their grip tightening as if they want to rip my arm off. ‘Decrepit bastards’ Rainer had called them. I am inclined to agree now.
I draw in a shaky breath. “What makes you think the vampire will abide to the Arawynn vow?”
“It is a sacred bond among our kind.” Irritation and impatience leak into his voice. “I’m sure you remember the tale of Iilovalle and the Dragon.”
I hate that story. They both die in the end.
“Then give me something in return. Promise me we’ll save Blaire, the Maiden of Arawynn, if I marry the vampire.” The stutter in my voice echoes the beat in my heart.
“You are not in a position to be making any demands. But of course, saving the maiden will be the first thing we do.” There is a bit of a mockery in those words. It’s almost as if they know they don’t have to honor it.
I lift my chin, glaring at them with all my might. “Understood.”
They release my arm, throwing me backwards. Blood rushes back to my fingers, blistering me with a burning sensation. It takes all my strength to remain standing. I will not let them see me broken. I will not bow.
“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Eamon flashes me a smile that makes my skin crawl. There is something unnatural and cruel in the way the Aeonians force him to do it.
His maddened dark eyes recede. The real commissioner slowly swims back to consciousness. He takes a moment to steady himself, “Is everything alright, Your Highness?”
I nod briefly, hiding my hand behind my back.
The Aldarelf seems oblivious to his masters’ ruthless threat. “I’ll wait for you outside.”
Sweat breaks out on my forehead over the pain lashing beneath my skin. It takes several breaths for me to calm myself. A fierce red color marks the site but it will bruise soon. My hand trembles as I bandage the handprint with a ribbon from my hair.
No one can know what transpired between me and the Aeonians.
I can’t ask Lady Deirdre to heal this, or Rainer will find out.
My uncle is searching for a reason to rebel against the Elders.
It’ll be a civil war between Volundr and Aelfheim if he finds out.
I’ll have to hide this from my knights too.
Darstan and Aelfric may abide to stand down, but Garrett is a wild card.
There’s no telling what he might do. My eyes burn with unshed tears the moment I step outside.
“Promise me something,” I whisper to my knights. “Whatever I decide from here on, you’ll trust me.”
The three exchange looks with each other. Aelfric briefly glances over at me. “We’re with you to the end.”
Silence reigns our short walk to the abandoned temple.
The frigid night presses in as we arrive at the clearing, but I’m not worried about the cold.
My heart thumps wildly at the sight of the vampire seated high on the ruined throne on top of the mountain of rubble.
Svenn lowers his head, looking down on us like some kind of tyrannical god.
Our gaze locks and I am held captive by the darkened depths of his eyes.
Kheirall settles on one of the broken pillars in the ruin with the script they’ve given him.
“We just want to talk,” he says, keeping his manner light and easy. I don’t know how the two demons are keeping it together so well considering they’re facing a creature that has tried to kill them.
None of the Aldarelfs dare to get closer to the Nightwalker. Tierra manages to take several steps forward before her survival instinct kicks in. “To the elves, marriage is more than just the union of souls, it’s a binding contract,” she explains from afar, her voice crisp in the cold night air.
Kheirall translates the lengthy proposal from the Aldarelf as best as he can. Svenn’s handsome face remains emotionless as the Demon Lord lays the conditions of the Arawynn vows.
Eamon makes a show of presenting the sacrifices in front of him. The Nightwalker says nothing. He is listening to the Demon Lord, but his entire focus falls on me. I will myself not to squirm beneath that stare.
“I don’t think he understands…” Aelfric mutters, crossing his arms.
“He understands enough.” Kheirall shrugs.
“Why don’t we give him some time to consider?” Lord Ctibor suggests.
“This is not the time to be honorable. The Sangail Lunae is ending soon. I bet he’ll barter anything to get out of that hell hole,” Eamon says sharply.
A deep voice rumbles from the Nightwalker’s throat when he finally answers Kheirall’s question in a single note.
“All right. Got it.” The demon nods stiffly. “The vampire said, ‘No, thank you.’”
Eamon’s eyes widen with shock before absolute wrath takes over, “Are you sure that was the reply?”
“Fine. I added the thank you,” Kheirall admits easily. “The guy simply said, ‘No.’”
“He can have all of them if he wants,” Eamon says desperately. He shoves Cedwyn forward for good measure.
A burning anger takes hold of me. I have to physically restrain myself from clawing the commissioner’s face. I feel Aelfric’s hand on my shoulder, anchoring me back.
Calm down.
In a split second when my friend touches me, a deathly aura vibrates the air. Two of the young elves drop to the ground, fainting from the burst of energy. A muscle ticks along the vampire’s jaw, his sharp gaze trained on Aelfric’s hand.
“It seems that he has eyes only for you,” Kheirall mutters mirthlessly.
My heartbeat picks up as that immortal gaze is fixed entirely on me.
Eamon curses underneath his breath. “Tell him to spare a glance at the offerings at the very least.”
Kheirall shakes his head. “Out of fear for my life and theirs, I don’t think I will do that.”
The Nightwalker suddenly points at me. I don’t need the demon to translate that.
He wants me.
That somehow terrifies and comforts me at the same time. I can’t believe it has come to this, but everything is up to me now. The throbbing ache on my arm reminds me of the Aeonians’ threat.
I kneel next to the Demon Lord. “Offer me to him.”
Kheirall turns to me with a bewildered look. There is a long pause as the demon stares at me, his star-flecked eyes gleaming with consideration. Whatever he reads in my face must convince him. He takes a quick glance at the paper in his hand and explains the conditions once again.
Svenn’s voice cuts through the air, clear and crisp. His behemoth frame descends from the pile of ruins, leaving us for the marked stone once again.
“He said yes,” Kheirall says after a while.
I was ready for the answer, but it still surprises me. Is Svenn really willing to surrender himself to the Elders? I get the feeling that despite the Demon Lord’s best intentions, he might have missed something. “Have you translated all that properly?”
“You wound me, love,” the Demon Lord says, touching his chest with a feigned innocence. “Of course, I did.”
“Have we come to an agreement?” Eamon asks, daring himself to step forward.
“He accepts your condition. I can officiate the human part of it without problem,” Kheirall volunteers. “I am an ordained minister.”
Not one of us know how to reply to that.
“We’ll need to make a blood sacrifice though,” the demon says with a little smirk.
Bile rises to my throat before he quickly adds, “Kidding. Had you worried, did I?”
Aelfric looks as if he’s ready to throttle the demon but Garrett merely chuckles. “You really are the devil.”
“Naah, I just work for the guy,” Kheirall says, scratching his jaw. “So, how does an elven marriage ceremony go?”
“That agreement between the two parties earlier and they consummate the wedding as husbands and wives,” Eamon answers flatly.
The Alderalfs spring into a series of conversations about preparations as if there is not an ancient, lethal predator a mere ten feet away from us.
A sense of numbness fills my nerves, but I keep my mask on.
“My plan tonight was to go to bed early with a glass of milk and a book in my hand,” I hear Kheirall mutter. “Being a matchmaker to an elf and a Nightwalker was not how I pictured my evening would end.”
Marrying a vampire was not what I imagined either when I set out from Aelfheim.
And yet here I am.