Chapter 16 Rhianelle
I’m marrying a vampire.
So much has happened that it’s hard to wrap my mind around all of it. Lady Deirdre keeps her face devoid of emotion as she dabs my face lightly for the finishing touch. I know deep down sorrow fills her heart.
“Your mother would have loved to see you today,” she says, twirling the side of my hair into perfect ringlets.
Even my handmaidens are solemn as they carry on their task. The girls had fantasized an extravagant wedding for me. I heard them in conversation several times, pairing me with Kahedin Kashran or even the Underground Prince of Tiamat, Ywain.
Rainer appears at the tent’s entry clad in his formal black, emerald regalia and stygian mask.
“Girls,” Lady Deirdre summons the two elflings. They hustle to leave the tent with her. She pauses beside my uncle on her way out.
Without warning, she raises her hand to Rainer and slaps him across the face. The Silver Stag of the East saw the hit coming, but he made no move to evade it. I do my best to pretend I don’t see their interaction. The healer and my handmaidens depart from the tent, granting Rainer and I privacy.
My uncle pulls a chair next to mine. Silence prevails for a long while until he says in his calm tone. “You look lovely, Rhianelle.”
I feel a flicker of warmth in my chest at the compliment. His voice has not sounded this genuine in years.
“I don’t have a ring. Kheirall said I need to give him one,” I say softly. It must be a human thing. Fae and dwarves have the same ritual. Elves however, are more practical. We have no use for tiny trinkets as proof of loyalty to our partner.
Rainer is in deep thought for a moment before fishing a small velvet box from his pocket. “It belonged to your father. It never did fit me.”
I take it into my hand carefully.
“I was certain you were going to refuse,” he suddenly says.
“I’ve come to see the wisdom behind this union,” I say, praying my voice won’t betray any distress. He thinks I’m doing this for the sake of our revenge. I pray no one tells him of the Aeonians’ secret meeting with me earlier. The vampire will be loyal to the Elders instead of our house.
He places a garland of roses on my head, a traditional blessing from Volundr. “I’m glad you understand this might be our only chance to claim our justice for Aerin.”
I just nod silently.
A shadow of concern passes through my uncle’s uncovered face. He reaches out and places a hand over mine. “Fret not, Rhianelle. Once the Nightwalker has fulfilled his end of the bargain, I will destroy him.”
Cold fear snakes into my veins at those words.
“Promise me you will do no such thing,” I say urgently, gripping his hand. It’s silly to assume the vampire needs me to protect him but I still feel the urge to do it. “Please, Uncle.”
Rainer seems amused. “As you wish. You know I’ve always done what’s best for you and our family,” he says after a long beat.
“I know.” I rearrange my features to a more neutral expression. “They’re waiting for me.”
He gives me a nod of dismissal and takes his leave. I close my eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath before I get up from my chair. I meet Aelfric’s calm gaze the moment I step out of the tent.
“Ready?” He arches an eyebrow.
“Yes,” I say quickly before he can read the fear in my face. The journey to the clearing with my knights is muted. I know my sudden decision surprised them, but they can’t question it. For once, I am glad for the rule set upon the royal guard.
Against all odds, the Tluryan elves manage to organize a ceremony with a stage and simple chairs for the audience.
A gathered crowd is already seated with the Aldarelfs and my uncle in the front row.
The dim elvenlight from the crystals illuminates the twinkle in their eyes as they turn to me.
I keep my gaze ahead to the male standing on the raised platform.
The vampire, my future husband.
I can feel his unbridled power humming from where I stand. It’s uneasy. I’m sure the others sense the rumbling too. His hair is properly tamed and bound, though he remains shirtless with a heavy furred robe draped over his shoulders. Thankfully, they’ve somehow found him a pair of black breeches.
His gaze leaps to me. The intensity of that stare pierces straight through my chest. A jolt of fear races in my heart, something that goes through every prey when cornered by a predator.
It is an effort not to flinch or run away.
I need to keep my emotionless High Elf mask intact.
This is no different from the walk to the council chamber.
I can do this.
“You’re not alone. We are with you,” Darstan suddenly says in his deep voice.
“If you have cold feet, just say the word,” Garrett whispers with a soft smile. He adds enough lilt to make sure I understand he seriously means what he says.
“This is what I want,” I reply firmly, adjusting my breathing. I look up at Aelfric. “Will you walk me to the altar?”
It’s another human tradition the demon mentioned. Rainer didn’t offer to give me away. It’s only right I ask the person who’s been like a brother to me.
Something like guilt clouds Aelfric’s eyes when he looks at me, then it is gone in a blink.
“Of course,” he says softly.
My heart is beating faster with each step I take to the pedestal. I keep my eyes trained on the rocky ground. If I look up, I’m certain I’ll find the Nightwalker’s focus trained on me. His sharp presence becomes more intimidating as I stand in front of him.
Kheirall is looking devilishly handsome in a black suit with his hair slicked back. It’s almost like some sort of wicked sorcery. I blink twice to make sure this is the same male that was lying half dead in the clearing earlier. He even looks the part of a priest.
“Why are you suspiciously prepared for this?” Aelfric asks, narrowing his eyes to the Demon Lord.
“I always rise up to the occasion when I’m needed,” Kheirall says lightly.
I take a glance at each face in the audience. I’ve never seen such despair and sorrow in a wedding. It feels more like a funeral than a merry occasion. I carry the Mark of the Blessed, the very symbol of the gods. It’s unbearable for them to watch their queen being handed off to a monster.
None of them knows the Elders forced me into this. At least I was given the terms. If there’s anyone who didn’t have much of a choice in the matter, it’s the vampire in front of me. Svenn needs this bond to work, or he’ll be stuck in the dungeon.
The vampire appears darkly amused by the whole ritual. It’s almost like he’s only playing along with everything. An unfathomable emotion flickers in his eyes briefly as he stares down at me. I can’t quite place it.
“State your name,” Kheirall says, snapping me out of my daze. There is authority in his voice instead of the playful tone he used earlier. I do as he bids and so does Svenn. I still fail to catch that terribly long name from his mouth. The Demon Lord motions Aelfric to move beside me.
“Does the vampire have a witness?” the Demon Lord asks, reiterating the same question in that archaic language. His eyebrows shoot to his hairline over Svenn’s answer.
“‘The night is my witness’, my ass. Now is not the time to be edgy,” the demon sighs. I’ve come to accept that I will never understand half of the things that come out of Kheirall’s mouth.
“Be this one’s witness,” he snaps his fingers at Ragnar.
The berserker steps forward, clasping his hands together to stand beside Svenn. He wears a formal cobalt-grey tunic that hides the ink on his skin. Ragnar gives me a tentative smile and nods.
“Dear strangers, we are gathered here tonight in the presence of the Sangail Lunae to join Queen Rhianelle Wiolant of Aelfheim and…Svenn in matrimony.” He pauses to clear his throat. “If any of you see a reason why they should not be wed, speak now or forever hold your peace.”
My eyes fall briefly on Rainer and my sworn knights.
No one says a word.
“Rhianelle Wiolant, do you take this man, to have and to hold, to honor and to comfort, from this day forward, for better and for worse, to cherish until your promise is fulfilled?” Kheirall continues.
It takes a moment for me to find my voice. “I do,” I say with a light smile. I quite like the human wedding vows compared to the Arawynn bond agreement. It sounds sweet and less like a contract.
He asks the same question to Svenn. Any hint of doubt and confusion in his face vanishes. His dark voice fills the night. My breath catches at the mere sound.
I do.
I don’t need the Demon Lord to translate that.
With a few exchanges of words, the course of my life is altered forever.
Our odd priest motions for us to join our hands. “The rings, if you please,” he says, smoothly.
Svenn reaches for me, and I take his waiting palms. His hands are warm, unlike the first time I touched them. I feel his heat slowly seeping into my skin, soothing and comfortable. For the first time since I entered the clearing, I take a proper, deep breath.
“Repeat after me,” Kheirall instructs, leaning forward. “This ring is my sacred gift to you. An unbroken, never-ending symbol of peace and devotion. With this ring, I thee wed.”
I rehearse the words while placing my father’s ring on Svenn’s finger. My heart does a weird jitter when it fits him perfectly—until I glimpse the crusted blood underneath his nail. How many deaths has he delivered with that hand?
Svenn is a Nightwalker. I must not forget his true nature.
Ragnar takes a simple black band from his pocket. I blink in surprise at the sight of the small ring crafted from rattan.
“Don’t ask me. The vampire made it earlier,” the berserker answers my questioning look.
Svenn brushes my hand secretly with his thumb and every nerve in my body narrows to the touch. Something about the gesture feels oddly intimate.
“By the power vested in me by our fallen king, Lucifer, I pronounce you husband and wife,” Kheirall says, closing the book in his hands. “You may kiss each other.”
In front of everyone?
Svenn leans in and my heart paces into a frenzy.
I swear it’s going to give out and stop beating at any second.
The chaste kiss he plants on my lips is brief, almost featherlight, but it doesn’t stop my toes from curling.
He pulls back, his thumb stroking my cheek.
Shivers of arousal dance on my skin over the soft caress.
I gaze at the beautiful, cruel monster I just married.
A hint of a smile curls his lips as he looks at me. In that moment, I see a glimpse of the man I met in the cold dungeon. The one who cares for me, the one who adores me.
Svenn.
Suddenly, my heart feels a little lighter. I’m still in a daze when he removes himself from the altar to follow Ragnar.
“That went as smoothly as I dared hope,” the Demon Lord says with a bemused look. “Let’s not waste the night. Come with me.”
My royal knights move to follow us, but Kheirall stops them. “This is where you leave her.”
Aelfric looks as if he has more to say. I take his hand in mine.
I can fake the happiest smile on my face, but I know it’s not going to work on my friend.
So, I tell him what I know in my heart to be true.
“He’s not going to hurt me,” I say, filling my voice with as much determination as I can. “I want to do this for us all.”
His eyes are churning with emotions, but he gives me a subtle nod at last. As I let go of his hand, I know this will be my last chance to run away.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say to Darstan and Garrett.
I take one last glance at everyone before leaving. There is no room for hesitation and doubt. I’ll be branded a traitor if I fail this. The people I love will have no place in Aelfheim.
I trail behind Kheirall’s measured steps to the large wedding tent prepared by the Tluryan elves at the centre of the clearing.
Ragnar and Svenn are both waiting for us at the entrance.
The berserker suddenly pulls three pieces of hair from Kheirall’s head.
I watch intently as he weaves them on a strange pendant.
“What was that for?” the Demon Lord grumbles.
“This is a wedding gift for you, Your Highness. It’s small, considering I owe you a life’s debt,” Ragnar says meaningfully.
He owes me nothing. If anything, I’m the one responsible for releasing the vampire from his tomb.
Instead of passing the pendant to my hand, the demon offers it to Svenn. “The spell will give him Kheirall’s mastery of language. But it’s fairly new and untested, so it may or may not work.”
“You couldn’t cast that spell earlier?” Kheirall asks, crossing his arms.
“The last time I tried to use the pendant, it felt like an arrow straight to the head. He might kill us thinking it’s a trick,” the berserker answers coolly.
His worry is warranted. I catch the distrust in Svenn’s eyes over Kheirall’s translated explanation. After a significant pause, he takes the totem from Ragnar’s hand and retreats into the tent.
“Thank you,” I say to the demons before following the Nightwalker.
“Wait, I have a gift for you too,” Kheirall says, a wicked smile growing on his face. “Just turn around. I’ll wrap it real quick.”
I humor the demon and do as he requests. A slight panic fills me at the clanking sound of his keys.
“Is it something from the Hollow?” I ask, swallowing my dry throat.
“No. I have doors to other places too. My libraries, dungeons, and shop,” he merely drawls. “You can turn around now.”
I whirl swiftly to find the demon with a black box in his hand. It looks harmless enough. I take his innocent gift with gratitude until he adds with a low whisper, “Use it if it gets awkward tonight.”
I stand over the entrance of the lavish tent a moment longer after the demons leave.
A wave of unexpected emotions rolls over me.
I still half expect myself to wake up from this nightmare.
But this is reality. This is my life now.
This is the choice that saves Blaire, Svenn, and every single soul in Aelfheim.
Go forth. All is well, Rhianelle, my patrons, the Un whisper.
I free a long breath from my lungs and enter the tent.