Chapter 29 Svenn
One minute, I was fighting a burning rage against the new curse bearer and the next I was ready to raise hell for her. There is no name for the dark power that filters through my being. It is something written in the language of chaos, death, and destruction.
I see the horror in her eyes when I sliced up those bastards. My odd bride somehow cares for her attackers.
Somewhere in the dark corners of my heart, I pity this Elven Queen.
She’s just another victim of the Rhunhraefn.
Any trace of kindness will be used by the curse as a weakness.
Even from a distance, I can feel it’s ominous aura enveloping the Elven Queen, trying to corrupt her.
I silently mourn the loss of the sweet, innocent person who set me free.
I wait with bated breath for this new curse bearer to turn vicious. She will fall eventually, just like the rest of them.
The day is almost over but Rhianelle Wiolant has not uttered a single demand. Every single Curse Bearer who has ever held the reins over us flaunted that power almost immediately.
I’ve seen the madness in every wielder.
Queens, paladins, warriors.
The last bearer who held out the longest before unleashing the spell on us was a holy priestess. Her resolve lasted for a whole two hundred thirty-two seconds. That’s the furthest anyone has ever withstood the temptation of the curse.
Memories of the girl pulse through my thoughts endlessly; her voice, her laughter, her smile, every single soft and perfect feature of her body. I try to put a halt to this intrusion, but they refuse to vanish.
There is a deep ache lodged in my chest, a yearning I can’t quite understand. By dawn, she is all I can think of. I want to see her more than I want my next breath. I’ve never felt an urge so strong. It’s much worse than the need to feed.
I fail to understand why her own people would hurt their queen. One gaze into their soulless eyes, and I know those guards meant to kill her. What if they make another attempt? My mind jumps to the injury on her leg and the bruise from our wedding night.
No.
The thought of something bad happening to her sends me running on all fours.
I need to know if she is safe. I’ll paint the whole world in red if they touch her.
The trees become a blur as I sprint through the forest. The cosmos sheds some mercy for me when I detect her presence somewhere in the demon’s castle, what’s left of it anyway.
I remain completely still, blending myself in the shadows of the trees. The heaviness eases at the first glimpse of her silver hair in the small room. But nothing prepares me for the feeling that punches through me when I look at her. It’s like finding a missing piece of my soul.
The elven knights take turns guarding her, giving the queen privacy only when she’s sleeping. Every time I scent a male near her my control near damn evaporates.
Day turns to night, and I keep tracking her, monitoring every movement. I think the bear demon, Ragnar, has noticed my presence. Instead of alerting his lord, I find him placing books and clothes for me near the gates. Another odd one.
I lurk closer whenever Rhianelle is alone.
I can almost see the outline of her curves, her long bare legs stretching on her bed. Sometimes the girl will massage her left leg. The injury had to be repetitive for the bone to become so roughly deformed. Rage blinds my vision at the thought.
For a moment, I remain there, watching the peculiar girl in the dark.
She tries to get out of bed and falls to the floor. The urge to storm into the demon’s lair becomes overwhelming. She stands up with trembling feet to feed the rats in Balthazar’s keep. The creatures form a mutiny the next day to steal her bread. I have to send my familiars to ward them off.
To my surprise, the girl brokers a peace treaty between the animals and befriended them all.
Rhianelle is somehow unafraid of my dark creatures of night, not even the ghastly bats.
They seem to adore her too, soaking in her attention and care.
How strange and utterly beguiling. She smiles at a barn owl and a part of me that is long dead stirs to life.
None of these odd mannerisms belong to Lilith or the past curse bearers.
Rhianelle settles by the window, gazing distantly into the night. Her thumb twirls the silly wedding band around her finger.
Part of me hopes she’ll notice me. The other wishes she never does so I can keep watching her like this. Balthazar enters the room to check on her. I notice the way the demon looks at Rhianelle, I see his appreciation, and a strong impulse to kill him surges in my veins.
The beasts buried deep within me begins to stir.
Mine, they whisper.
I watched how my brothers caved to this animalistic instinct, grasping for more power, territory, women. The beings inside of me never desired anything. They lay dormant for years. I’ve always had complete control over their impulses, to feed, to fuck, to kill.
I want her.
Shut up.
Over two thousand and three hundred twenty-nine years on this godforsaken earth, they choose to lay their claim now?
On the Rhunhraefn’s vessel no less.
Mine.
The thought keeps echoing through my head over and over.
It’s been three whole days. This can’t go on.
The setting sun gilded the dark bricks of Balthazar’s castle in a peculiar blue hue.
I do regret making it the victim of my wrath that morning.
It’s the masked knight’s turn to stand guard.
I like his watch best because he’s one of the few who doesn’t touch or talk to Rhianelle unnecessarily.
But this bored fucker has the nerve to shut the windows this time.
I wait for him to open it again, counting the seconds in the dark. The last light of day disappears beyond the horizon and my impatience reaches its fatal end.
I’m done waiting.
Dark, feathery wings sprout from my back with one of my easier half-shifts. I storm through the window, the haunting sound of the night wind treading my arrival. The fear in the air is tangible as I find myself in the small chamber with Rhianelle and five other male elves.
A long beat of silence passes.
“Took you long enough.” The silver-haired male sitting beside her bed speaks.
He is not as severely affected by my presence compared to the rest of them.
I realize it is not me he is unafraid of.
This male has no fear of death. I smell the familial tie between him and Rhianelle.
Perhaps everyone in her family is just as infuriating.
“I don’t really understand how the Arawynn bond works but it seems that you need something from my niece,” he mutters, his voice deep, polished, and smooth. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here.”
I ignore the calm fucker.
My gaze is solely trained on Rhianelle. Most of her is hidden beneath the blanket but the half that shows appears frail and weak. The dark circles underneath her eyes have become more prominent. Has she been eating?
Those fucking rats.
Something coasts across her gentle features, almost as if she’s glad that I’m here.
“You’ve complicated things by challenging the Elders. Stay loyal as a servant to our house and you will be rewarded with the freedom you crave.”
I hardly hear the male elf talking.
The world goes quiet the moment Rhianelle’s eyes fall on me. I thought I’d find anger and hatred from the curse or even terror like the rest of these elves, but her eyes are sparkling with light. It’s like she has stolen the sun and hidden it in her eyes.
“We are leaving for the Veil soon,” the male continues in that even tone. “Be here at dawn if you wish to come with us.”
Her grip on the water pitcher tightens. Rhianelle places a hand on her uncle’s arm over the offer.
So, she is afraid after all.
Then why won’t she bend me to my knees? She will be the first vessel who can’t use the Rhunhraefn. If that is the case, then there is hope for me yet to escape this curse. Something dark settles in my chest over the twisted plan forming in my head.
“I accept your invitation.”