C H A P T E R T H I R T Y – F O U R
All hail my beautiful queen.
C H A P T E R T H I R T Y – F O U R
Olwyn
T he council meeting is finally over, and with it, the tense air that had been weighing on me yesterday morning has dissipated.
But my mind doesn’t have much time to dwell on the events—because now, something entirely different awaits.
I stand next to Altair in the stables, watching as he expertly adjusts the saddle on a sleek black horse. He moves with such precision, his fingers deftly securing the leather straps, and for a moment, I’m lost in the ease with which he handles the animal.
Until…
One horse.
My mind snags on that fact, and I swallow, trying not to let the closeness of what’s about to happen overwhelm me. Sharing a horse means proximity. Very close. And though I’ve grown accustomed to Altair’s presence, there’s something about riding together that feels… intimate.
There’s a part of me that wants to ask why we couldn’t take two horses, but the rational part knows the answer. It’s safer this way, less conspicuous. And yet, knowing that doesn’t make the fluttering in my chest any less noticeable.
Altair’s hands brush against mine as he tightens the final strap. “You’ll sit in front,” he says, his voice low and calm, like this is the most natural thing in the world.
I nod, my throat suddenly dry. I’m trying not to overthink it, trying not to let the thought of being pressed against him for hours on end fluster me more than it already has. But I can’t help the flutter of nerves that swirl in my chest. My fingers brush absently over the braided crown of my hair, smoothing it down for the hundredth time.
At least I know how to ride, I remind myself. The memory of the baker's boy sneaking me out for late-night rides across the moonlit fields of Avantra tugs at the corners of my mind. His laughter echoing as he taught me to grip the reins, the thrill of feeling the horse's muscles bunch and move beneath me as we galloped through the stillness of the night. Those stolen moments of freedom were a rare joy, a hint of adventure in a life otherwise cloaked in lies.
But this ride with Altair, feels different—charged with an anticipation I can’t quite name.
“You’re nervous,” Altair observes, glancing at me from the corner of his eye. His lips quirk into a small, knowing smile.
“I’m not,” I lie, my voice betraying me with its slight tremor. “I just haven’t… ridden with many people before.”
I had been taken from Avantra in a gilded carriage, but this trip requires more… subtlety.
His smile widens, “You’ll be fine. I’ll make sure of it, of course.”
He winks .
He’s teasing me. Prick.
Before I can respond, I hear Iolas approaching from behind, his footsteps heavy with tension. He’s never been subtle, and today is no different. His expression is tight, his brows furrowed as he eyes the horse and then Altair. There’s a flicker of something in his gaze—worry. I hate seeing him anything other than happy and joking.
“Iolas, we’ll be fine,” I say, though I don’t know where we’re going
He shakes his head slightly, his lips pressed into a thin line. “I still don’t like this.” His eyes dart to the vampire king, narrowing slightly. “And without a guard escort…”
“It’s necessary,” Altair replies evenly, not pausing in his movements. He doesn’t need to explain further—this has been their disagreement from the start. Too many people, too many eyes. Something Altair wants to avoid at all costs. After the two assassination attempts on my life, Altair explained he didn’t want to draw attention to us.
Iolas huffs, clearly still unconvinced. “And what if you’re spotted by a stranger? What if something happens?”
“If something happens, I’ll handle it,” Altair says, standing up straight and turning to face his friend. “You know we’re not going far—it’s safe.”
Iolas’s gaze shifts to me, and there’s something almost protective in his expression. “I know the village is safe. But Olwyn’s barely seen anything beyond palace walls.”
I bristle slightly, the need to defend myself flaring up instinctively. The truth is, being out here should terrify me after so many years confined within royal chambers. The unfamiliar world beyond these walls has always been more rumour than reality, a place I’ve only glimpsed in stories shared in hushed tones. But now, out in the open, with so little knowledge of what to expect, there’s an unfamiliar rush beneath my skin—an exhilaration that pushes aside fear.
Before I can voice my thoughts, Altair’s deep voice cuts through the air, answering for me. “She’ll be with me,” he says, his tone final. “Nothing will happen to her.”
But Iolas doesn’t relax. If anything, his jaw tightens. “And where exactly are you planning to stay tonight?”
Altair turns to me, his gaze flicking over my expression as if gauging my reaction. “The inn,” he says casually. “I trust Abbas. It’ll do for the night.”
I blink, the words catching me off guard. “We’re staying overnight?”
Altair’s gaze shifts to mine, his expression softening just a touch. “Yes. The village is a bit far for a one-day journey. We’ll return in the morning.”
An inn? The realisation hits me with a jolt. We’ll be staying somewhere… together. Alone. The thought sends a mixture of nerves thrumming through my veins. I nod, trying to keep my expression neutral, though I’m certain my face betrays at least a flicker of uncertainty.
Iolas’s eyes flick between us, his concern still evident, but he doesn’t argue further. “Just… be careful. Both of you. If you’re not back by moon rise tomorrow, I’ll come find you.”
“We will be careful,” Altair says, his voice calm but firm. He moves towards me then, offering a hand to help me onto the horse.
I hesitate for just a second before taking it, and as our hands touch, a spark of awareness shoots up my arm. He’s warm, steady, and when he helps me up into the saddle, I can’t ignore the way my heart skips a beat at the effortless strength behind his grip.
Altair mounts behind me, his chest brushing against my back as he settles into the saddle. The feel of him so close, his body solid and warm, is more overwhelming than I expected. My heart races, and I silently berate myself for reacting this way. It’s just proximity. Nothing more.
Except it’s not nothing. I can feel the warmth of his breath near my ear, the solid press of his chest against me, the way his hands grip the reins just in front of mine. It’s… disarming.
“Ready?” Altair’s voice rumbles near my ear, low and steady.
I nod, my throat too tight to speak.
“Good,” he says, and with a light tap of his heels, the horse starts forward, carrying us past a nervous looking Iolas, and out of the stables and through the palace gates.
***
I’m eternally grateful that Thalia warned me to dress for warm weather. Iolas had demanded I wear my light leathers under my cloak. But I am warm… very warm.
But maybe that’s from being pressed up against Altair for so long.
The air smells sweet—of earth and greenery—crisp and alive in a way that feels almost unreal after being cooped up in the palace for so long. The land stretches out endlessly around us, rolling hills covered in wildflowers, tall grasses swaying gently with the breeze. The palace itself fades quickly into the distance behind us, its towering spires shrinking as we venture further to the east and away from its stone walls.
The world beyond the palace is… beautiful. Lush and thriving, the kind of beauty that makes you forget, if only for a little while, the darkness that exists within it. The lands are nothing like I could have imagined. I didn’t get a good look when we left Avantra, cooped up in a carriage with closed windows.
But I likely wouldn’t have appreciated the beauty of this place at that moment in time.
I always thought the world outside Avantra would be desolate, dark—a reflection of the stories I’d been told growing up. Those tales, fed to me by cautious voices, painted a picture of ruined lands and barren fields, of places stripped of life and riddled with danger. But now, as my eyes take in the rolling green hills dotted with wildflowers and the golden sunlight filtering through the trees, I know how deeply skewed that image was.
It wasn’t just ignorance—it was control. This beauty, this vibrancy, it’s something I was never meant to see. The lies I was fed back in Avantra were meant to keep me inside, to keep me obedient and afraid. But this… this is the truth, and it’s so much more than I ever expected.
I sit perched on the front of the saddle, my legs dangling on either side of the horse as Altair sits behind me, his strong arms loosely holding the reins. His chest is a solid wall of warmth against my back, and every movement of the horse causes us to shift slightly, my hips brushing against his, my shoulders leaning back into him.
We ride in relative silence at first, the steady rhythm of the horse’s hooves and the rustling of leaves in the wind filling the space between us. I try to focus on the landscape around me, on the sea of wildflowers—lavender, daisies, and goldenrod—that blanket the ground like a living quilt. But it’s impossible to ignore the tension simmering between us, the constant awareness of his body so close to mine.
Every small movement sends a shiver through me. The gentle brush of his hand as it rests on my hip, his fingers occasionally grazing the thin fabric of my overshirt. His breath is warm, ghosting over the back of my neck, and I can’t help but wonder if he’s as aware of the closeness as I am.
“These lands…” I say, trying to distract myself from the heat that seems to pool in my stomach. “They’re beautiful.”
“I’m glad you’re getting to see them when in full bloom. They haven't always looked this strong,” Altair says, his voice low and smooth, vibrating against my back. “They thrived after the old king was gone.”
I hesitate for a moment, chewing on my bottom lip as I gather the courage to ask the question that’s been swirling in my mind for so long. But before now I was too afraid to ask anyone. “Why did you… why did you kill him?”
It’s a dangerous question, I know. I don’t think I’ve ever heard Altair talk about his past. But the man I’ve come to know—the one sitting behind me now—feels so at odds with the stories I’ve heard. The tales of him being a ruthless killer, a cold, calculating king… it just doesn’t add up.
Altair goes quiet for a moment, his one-handed grip tightening ever so slightly on the reins. I feel the shift in his posture, the tension in his muscles. “I was his general. And I was a good one. But he was jealous of what I could do,” Altair finally says, his voice measured. “Of the power I had and how everyone respected me. And he wanted something from me that I wasn’t willing to give.”
His words are vague, but something tells me there’s more to the story. I let the words hang in the air between us, unanswered.
The road winds through the hills, and as we continue our journey, the lush green gives way to more cultivated land—fields of wheat and corn, carefully tended by farmers—human and vampire alike—I can see working tirelessly under the sun. The crops sway gently in the wind.
My brow furrows. I thought all crops were grown by humans. In the human lands. That the vampires took their share and left us with the scraps. But it’s clear these lands have prospered under Altair’s rule. The thought hurts my heart that it must have been another lie I’d been fed in Avantra.
I glance back at him, trying to gauge his mood, but his expression is calm, his eyes focused on the road ahead. The tension between us simmers, not unpleasant but undeniable. Every slight movement of the horse causes us to shift, my hips pressing back into his as his fingers brush my side again, sending a ripple of heat through me.
“Why did the old king want your power?” I ask tentatively, my voice softer now, afraid to push too hard.
Altair’s jaw tightens, his gaze hardening slightly. “He didn’t. My power isn’t something that can be taken.”
Well, that is information.
“He wanted to control me. But a power like this always comes with a price,” he says cryptically. “And I wasn’t willing to pay it.”
I hum, unsure how to respond, but the harshness in his voice tells me that this is a conversation he’s not ready to have. At least, not yet.
We fall into silence again, the rhythmic sound of the horse’s hooves lulling us into a steady pace. Into the early afternoon we ride, and even though we’re not talking, it feels peaceful. I feel like I can breathe.
As we ride further from the palace, the world around us shifts, the wild beauty of the open land fading as we approach the village. The air smells of hay and earth, a change from the perfumed gardens of the palace. Small houses made of stone and wood dot the landscape, their roofs covered in moss and ivy. Smoke rises lazily from chimneys, a sign of life in this quiet corner of the kingdom.
I find myself relaxing into Altair’s chest more than I intended, the steady warmth of his body oddly comforting. It’s strange, this proximity, but not entirely unwelcome. I wonder if he notices how my breath catches every time he shifts, if he feels the same energy sparking between us.
“Are you nervous about what you’ll see?” Altair’s voice breaks the silence as he leans down slightly, pressing harder against me, and I can feel his breath warm against my ear.
I bite my lip, unsure of how to answer. “I don’t know,” I admit. “I think I’m just… trying to make sense of it all. Of everything I’ve been told versus what I’m seeing now.”
Altair nods, his grip tightening slightly as if reassuring me. “Sometimes seeing for yourself is the only way to understand.”
His words settle over me, and I realise how right he is. I’ve spent so much of my life being told what to believe, what to fear.
As we continue our journey, the village draws closer, the sun now hanging lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the land. The heat of the day has softened, and a gentle breeze carries the scent of fresh grass and earth. The road beneath us is quiet, only the occasional farmer passing by with a polite nod. It feels almost… peaceful.
But even in the calm, the energy between Altair and me remains, like a stroke of lightning humming beneath the surface. Every slight movement, every accidental brush of our hands, sends a spark through me.
“You’re quiet,” Altair says, his voice low and teasing.
“I’m just… thinking,” I reply, my voice barely above a whisper.
“About?” His hand squeezes my hip lightly, and I can hear the amusement in his voice.
I swallow, unsure of how to respond. My thoughts are a tangled mess—confusion about my place in this world, curiosity about Altair, and something… else.
“Everything,” I say finally, my voice soft. “About everything.”
Altair hums in response, a sound deep in his chest that vibrates through me. “Well,” he says after a pause, “we have all evening to sort through your thoughts.”
I laugh softly, the sound surprising even me. But it feels good—lighter, like a weight has been lifted, if only for a moment.
The village is just ahead now, on the outskirts of a valley, its small, modest buildings clustered together like they’ve been there for centuries. As we approach, the sounds of life grow louder—voices, the clang of metal from a blacksmith, the distant laughter of children. It’s simple, peaceful, and entirely different from the grandeur of the palace.
Altair sighs behind me, and he sounds nervous. “Welcome to Elderglen, Olwyn.”
My neck clicks as I turn to look at him.
“What?”