C H A P T E R T H I R T Y – F I V E
This could make or break us…
C H A P T E R T H I R T Y – F I V E
Olwyn
A ltair pulls his dark hood further over his face as we ride further, his shadowed features making him nearly unrecognisable to any casual onlooker.
But that scarred eye is hard to hide.
Elderglen? The name punches the breath from my lungs, dredging up a memory from years ago. My parents, their faces grim as they spoke in hushed tones.
“Do you remember Elderglen, Olwyn?” he asks, leaning forward, his eyes glassy. “The village in the valley?”
I nod slowly, not trusting myself to speak. I’ve heard the name before.
“It was a peaceful village,” he continues, wiping a drop of wine that spills from the corner of his mouth. “Families, children… all living their simple lives. And then the vampires came.”
The memory stings behind my eyes, bitter and sharp. He must be lying.
“E-Elderglen?” I stammer, disbelief clogging my throat.
Altair nods, and there’s a softness in his eyes, almost like regret, as if he can see my childhood crumbling within my eyes.
He dismounts from the horse, tying it to a hitching post and offers his hand to help me down. “Come see,” he says gently, his voice carrying no mockery, no smugness—just quiet certainty. He doesn’t patronise me, doesn’t push facts or gloat. He just... offers.
With trembling fingers, I take his hand and slide off the horse. My feet hit the ground, but it feels like I’m floating, unsteady, unsure, pulling my hood tighter around my face. This can’t be the Elderglen from my parents' stories. The Elderglen they described was a graveyard, a place ravaged and destroyed by vampires. But as I look around, I see nothing of the kind.
The village is alive.
Humans and vampires walk side by side, chatting, working, laughing. A group of children— human children —run past, kicking up dirt as they chase one another down the main road. Nearby, a vampire woman helps an elderly human load a cart with freshly baked bread, their conversation easy and familiar. A vampire blacksmith works at his forge, hammering out a blade while a human apprentice watches closely, wiping sweat from his brow.
My chest tightens, my throat closes... And I want to cry.
Everything I’ve been told, every story of destruction and horror, feels like it's dying inside me.
My heart twists painfully, and I can’t stop the flood of confusion and betrayal that washes over me. This wasn’t supposed to exist. My parents had told me that vampires decimated villages like this, that they left nothing but death and despair in their wake. But here I am, standing in the middle of Elderglen—a village that should be a ruin—and it’s thriving.
A small sob breaks free from my control, and a part of me is desperate to deny what I’m seeing. But the proof is right in front of me. Was Altair telling the truth? Had my parents been the ones weaving lies all along? And if they lied about this... what else might they have lied about?
I swallow hard, forcing myself to breathe as we walk through the village. Altair says nothing, but he looks like he is in agony, his fingers flexing as if he wants to reach out and hold my hand. But he is letting me take it all in at my own pace. His other hand rests lightly on my lower back, guiding me but not forcing me. Every step feels like a boulder pressing down on my chest, a slow realisation sinking deeper into my bones.
It’s not just the village that unsettles me—it’s the fact that I feel a pull here. A connection. Like my own home could have been like… this.
I catch Altair watching me out of the corner of his eye, his expression now unreadable. He knows what this is doing to me. I don’t even need to say anything.
We reach the small inn at the heart of the village, a cosy-looking place with ivy climbing up the stone walls and smoke curling from the chimney.
Inside, the scent of roasted meats and freshly baked bread fills the air. A few patrons sit at wooden tables, chatting and laughing, and a warm fire crackles in the hearth. The innkeeper, an older human man with a weathered face and kind eyes, looks up from the bar. His gaze sharpens as Altair looks up, and he recognizes him, immediately setting down the mug he was polishing.
“Your Majesty,” the innkeeper whispers as we get close and Altair steps up to the bar. The innkeeper’s eyes dart to me, curiosity and warmth blooming on his face. “I’ll have a room set up straight away.”
“Thank you, Abbas,” Altair says, his voice softer than usual. He’s careful to keep his face concealed, though Abbas clearly knows who he is. “This isn’t an official visit, if you wouldn’t mind keeping it quiet. And if someone could tend to my horse.”
Abbas takes a brown bag of coins that Altair offers and nods quickly, “Of course. We have one room left. Families have come into town for Litha. But I’ll have it made up for you immediately. Would you like a quiet place to rest before your room is ready?” he offers, looking from Altair to me with a kind smile.
Altair shakes his head. “No, not yet. We’ll explore the village first.”
Something shifts in Abbas’s eyes as he glances between us, realisation dawning. His smile grows wider, more genuine, and his eyes twinkle with approval. “Ah,” he murmurs, his gaze locking on me. “So, this is your bride, then. My queen.” He bows his head slightly in respect. “It’s an honour to finally meet you. Welcome.”
I blink in surprise, not sure how to respond, because Abbas’s smile is genuine, his welcome is heartfelt. It throws me off balance.
“Thank you,” I manage to say, my voice sounding small in the cosy space.
Abbas grins again, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’ll make sure your stay is perfect, Your Majesty.” With that, he disappears up the stairs, leaving Altair and me standing in the inn’s warm glow.
I take a slow breath, my mind still spinning from everything I’ve seen. The village, the people— the humans —living alongside vampires as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. It’s so at odds with everything I’ve been taught, everything I’ve believed.
I glance up at Altair, his face still shadowed beneath his hood, and curiosity gnaws at me. The villagers haven’t so much as looked at him twice. doesn’t seem like a man who hides. Altair commands a room just by entering it. And yet, here he is, cloaked in shadow.
“Why are you hiding your face?” I ask, my voice quiet.
Altair’s gaze shifts to me, his eyes softening beneath the hood. For a moment, I think he might deflect the question, offer some vague response to keep the mystery intact. But instead, he surprises me.
“I trust the people of this village,” he says, his voice low, steady. “They wouldn’t betray me. But…” He pauses, as if considering how much to share, his gaze briefly sweeping over the bustling market square. “Besides trying to keep my identity hidden from outside eyes as we entered, I wanted to spend this time with you, just with you. Unbothered. I know this is your first time seeing a place like this, and I didn’t want it to feel overwhelming for you. So, for now, whilst you get used to it, I didn’t want us to be a distraction.”
His words hit me harder than I expect. My chest tightens, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe.
He did this… for me?
I look away, focusing on the stone tiles beneath my feet as warmth spreads through my chest.
He notices me .
He thought about me.
“Thank you,” I manage to say, my voice soft.
Altair doesn’t respond, but the faint curve of his lips beneath the shadow of the hood tells me everything I need to know.