Chapter 30 Rhianelle
Amixture of excitement and fear hits me over Svenn’s presence in front of the Demon Lord’s gate. Ragnar has given him quite the haircut, accentuating his sharp, angular features. That ethereal face appears as if it is crafted with the sole purpose of luring a prey into its trap.
I can’t help but stare at him.
Three Noctrals surround him curiously. It’s so strange they are unafraid of the undead. Perhaps they recognize their long-lost kin in him, sacrificed to make the curse.
A sudden stirring throbs in my chest. It has been bothering me for days.
The healers assure me it’s not a physical ailment.
I understand now this odd tingling definitely has something to do with Svenn.
The moment he returns, all I want to do is to jump and climb into his arms. Sometimes, the need to be near him becomes unbearable and I find myself moving towards him involuntarily.
I quickly remind myself he has injured dozens of my people. Some are still fighting for their lives under Lady Deirdre’s care. This is just the beginning. More chaos and death will follow him.
I’ve seen it all.
The vision of the fallen elven knights in the field of slaughter haunts me with every breath.
Svenn is a Nightwalker who feasts on the blood of the living.
And Rainer invited him to cross the Veil into our realm. My uncle has somehow convinced the council that the vampire now belongs to our house. Our newest servant, prisoner, weapon. Surprisingly, all thirty-three Aldarelfs agreed for him to be welcomed to Aelfheim.
“Shade,” Rainer calls.
The gray-haired Grimsbane appears from the shadows with his usual detached look.
“Make sure your formation is secure to escort the queen,” my uncle demands. The mercenary nods without argument and leaves.
“We have protocols,” Aelfric says, his eyes narrow.
“These are safety measures. The Elders have never been shamed like that,” Rainer insists, giving my knight a pointed look.
The enormity of what Svenn did makes me tremble. He announced war on Aelfheim’s living gods. The Aeonians may not have objected to the High Council’s decision, but I know they will seek retribution.
“What seems to be the holdup?” Garrett mutters, looking over the procession for a clue.
I am about to ask the same thing when Ctibor meanders towards us with a box in his hand.
“The procession will not move unless the monster is cuffed,” the Alderalf says, handing over a leash to Darstan. He bows to me and quickly makes himself scarce. Well, Ctibor is not the only one avoiding me.
Almost all of my people are.
“Cowards,” Rainer curses sharply. “Let them do it themselves if they dare.”
As much as I agree with him, I can’t delay our departure any longer.
“I’ll do it,” I volunteer, taking the metallic chain from Darstan. I need this opportunity to talk to Svenn. Maybe I’m just desperate to be near him.
Svenn notices my approach and my heart suddenly beats a skip too fast.
Stupid heart.
I lift my head slowly, daring to meet his gaze.
What a horrible mistake that was. His dark pupils have somehow shifted to something more russet than the stark crimson from the night of his rampage.
They’re drawing me in like an enchanting siren’s call.
This male made an utter mess of me on our wedding night.
“Hello, wife.”
I watch him swallow the words and a strange urge to kiss his throat rises. I want to bite it too. These weird cravings are almost terrifying now. Something is seriously wrong with me.
I open my mouth to greet him back, but the words tangle in my throat. There are so many unspoken things between us. But most of all, I want him to know how much I’ve missed him.
“You took away their sword hand,” I say instead. I can still hear the Valorian’s screams echoing in my ear.
“I let them live. Just like you asked me to.” His guttural voice cuts through the air. There is no remorse in his pitiless gaze. Not even a sliver of it. I loathe him for that. But I also want to lick that dimple. I rub my chest to quell the strange lust that has entwined itself with my anger.
This is madness.
“Why are you here?” I’m thankful the voice that comes out of my mouth is calm.
He looks at me steadily with his keen eyes. “Your uncle invited me. I’m sure you heard his proposal last night.”
“Rainer didn’t fully explain what it means for you to come with us to Aelfheim. The Veil will not let you pass if your intention is to harm us,” I tell him truthfully. “You might die from the crossing,” I add when he says nothing.
“You sound worried.”
“I am.”
He seems mildly amused by my answer. The way his expression smolders sends butterflies soaring in my heart. This attraction is starting to feel like torture now. He’s right in front of me but I can’t touch him. Out of all the males in this world, I had to yearn for the one that hates me the most.
“I know you didn’t choose this,” I tell him, my voice soft. “You’re free to go anywhere.”
The line of his jaw hardens. “You know I can’t. I am condemned to that thing.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
He remains silent for a long moment, studying me. That sharp gaze almost feels like a knife dissecting my insides. Perhaps I said something wrong.
The searing look continues until he finally heaves a heavy breath. “When you use the Rhunhraefn to summon me from a distance, every single nerve in my body is pierced and burned until I come kneeling in front of you. You’ll forgive me if I want to spare myself from that misery.”
A hole forms in my chest at the revelation.
“I won’t use the curse,” I say, averting my gaze so I don’t have to look at the agony in his eyes.
“There is no guarantee of that, is there?” A dark frown forms on the vampire’s face. “I’m coming with you.”
He sounds weary, like he has already had the same conversation in his head a million times.
The curse has caused Svenn unimaginable suffering. Here I am parading in front of him as the embodiment of that horror. I try putting myself in his place. It must be painful, frustrating.
“My people don’t trust you. They want me to—”
“Go ahead. Chain me like a proper prisoner.” He offers me his wrists. His perfectly carved face betrays no emotion at all.
Pressure builds behind my eyes as I place the binding. I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to hurt him in any way. It’s just for show, I convince myself. He can escape at any time. But the sight of him in fetters…
If I was in his place, I would hate me too. What was done to him in the past was horrible. I know he doesn’t believe me, but I still say, “I will keep my promise, Svenn.”
Something in him fractures at my words. The look on his face makes him seem almost vulnerable.
“You heard her. Rhianelle is a fair queen. She will honor the bargain you made for the Arawynn bond,” Kheirall says, stepping into the courtyard.
An unearthly growl ripples from the vampire.
To the demon’s credit, he does not flinch. I look between the two males, hoping they won’t start killing each other again.
Ragnar’s appearance immediately eases my anxiety. “The Elven Queen is telling the truth. I vouch for her with my life.”
That solemn vow warms my heart to its core. I feel a little undeserving of such devotion from him.
“You can’t rely on the pendant forever. Eventually, you’ll have to learn their language,” the berserker demon continues. “I took the liberty of loading the carriage with some books. You have the history of the past millennium to catch up on.”
“Thank you,” Svenn responds smoothly.
His interaction with Ragnar is surprisingly civil. I’m fond of the berserker too. I gave him a giant bear hug earlier for the chest filled with grimoires and tablets.
Kheirall gives the vampire a long look. “Your destiny is entwined with the Elven Queen. Embrace this fate. Serve her.”
“Like I have a choice,” Svenn grinds out the words through clenched teeth, his hostility returning. He gives me a lingering look before leaving us to join the envoy. My heart leaps as if it wants to follow him wherever he goes.
I grip the vows on my hand to distract myself from jumping on that broad, muscular back. I wonder if this strange pull I have for him has something to do with the Arawynn bond or the curse. It’s hurting me to the point of pain now.
“He may need time to adjust. Perhaps he should stay with you?” I say to the demons.
“Nonsense. He’s yours now,” Kheirall says with a wide grin, flashing his perfect teeth. “Vampires move easily with the change of time. It’s part of their survival skills.”
“I share the queen’s worry,” Ragnar says, a fierce frown forming on his face. “Some vampires may have strange gifts, like mind reading or compulsion. I’ve even met those that can conjure fire and water out of thin air.”
“His power is not telepathy. We’ve seen the shadow vines.” Kheirall shrugs carelessly.
Ragnar lets out a long exhale. “He is the True Sire. A Strigon might have more than one gift.”
Kheirall merely scoffs at the idea. “Why don’t you go and ask your new friend directly then?”
“Perhaps I should,” Ragnar says, striding past the Demon Lord.
I watch as he catch up to walk with the vampire as if they hadn’t tried to kill each other several nights ago.
A sense of terror grips me over the demons’ conversation.
Vampires and their gifts.
I don’t tell them that Svenn has all the powers of the creatures that were sacrificed to make him.
“Cheer up, sweet queen. It’s not the end of the world.” Kheirall offers me a sincere smile.
It actually is. I’ve seen it.
“Listen. I’m a Demon Lord who lives in the In Between. I’ve seen all kinds of folks from Beyond the Veil. Orcs snatching their human mate kicking and screaming, Fae Lords arriving on their ferocious steed to whisk away their mortal bride—”
“But I am the first to bring home a vampire,” I finish for him.
Doom unfurls low in my stomach. I am in over my head.
“You misunderstand me, love. The vampire is not the reason I find the whole thing amusing.” He chuckles to himself. “Those humans I mentioned rarely get a say on the matter. You gave him a choice.”
Kheirall’s deep eyes rise to mine. I know his words are meant to comfort me and I wish they did, but I can’t shake this horrible feeling in my chest.
“I should go now,” I say.
“Don’t forget to call me sometimes.” His voice takes on that soft, teasing quality again.
I fight a rising smile. “It’d be a cold day in hell when I do that.”
“You’ll be surprised that happens more times than you think,” he chuckles.
Kheirall stares at me for a long time before extending his hand to me. “Your ancestors have not been very kind to mine. But you’re different. I wish for a brighter future for both our realms.”
I take his hand without hesitation. “I wish for the same. Thank you, Kheirall.”
It seems too small of a phrase for everything he has done for me for the past few days. Despite his allegiance to the Fae King, I pray I never have to become Balthazar’s enemy in the future. His hand lingers on mine far longer than is appropriate.
“Everything is going to be all right,” he says, as if he knows I need the assurance. “I have a feeling for these things.”
Part of me wants to believe that everything will work out. But that part is na?ve. “You don’t know that.”
“Oh, I think I do.” He brushes a soft kiss over the back of my hand. There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes when he does that.
I think nothing of it until I feel a strange awareness. An unbearable tension hangs in the air, the charged kind that comes before a storm. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end and I spontaneously turn my head to Svenn.
His dark gaze locks with mine. There is no subtle change in his cold expression, but his eyes are burning like molten metal. I drown in the fiery possessiveness of that stare.
The vampire turns to the demon beside me. In a heartbeat, that eternally beautiful face shifts into the soulless wrath of a reaper. The formidable power flows from him in waves as if he is unable to rein it in any longer.
“He can’t quite make up his mind, can he? This new friend of ours.” Kheirall gives a low laugh, toying with his life.
But I finally know it then; I’m not the only one affected by this strange longing.