Chapter 42
VIVIENNE
“We’re here,” Auren whispers in my ear, pulling me back into awareness.
When I open my eyes, we’re on a narrow stone path carved into the mountain. It’s almost like a tunnel, but the top is open to the elements. I watch in shock as the riders up ahead seem to disappear into the rock face.
“This is one of seven hidden entrances. It’s concealed by an invisible ward,” Auren explains, gesturing ahead. “The main entrance is warded as well, but we rarely use it. It’s mainly for visitors.”
When we pass through the magic barrier, a subtle charge of energy passes over my skin. The passage opens, and something vast and impossible unfolds before my eyes.
At first, I think it’s simply light… a soft glow spilling through the darkness ahead, pale and luminous as dawn filtering through mist. But as Vaelen carries us forward and the mountain closes in around us, the light begins to take shape, resolving into color and movement and form until I realize with a quiet, breathless shock that what I’m seeing is not the outside world at all.
It’s the capital city of Elyrith, within the heart of the mountain.
The cavern opens slowly, revealing a space so enormous that for a moment, my mind struggles to comprehend its scale.
Stone arches stretch high overhead like the vaulted ceiling of a cathedral carved by gods instead of men, their surfaces veined with glowing gemstones that shimmer faintly in shades of silver-white, casting a soft, otherworldly light across everything they touch.
And below, the ground is alive with color.
Mushrooms rise from the cavern floor in impossible abundance, their caps glowing in hues of deep indigo, violet, and soft rose.
Some are small, no larger than my hand, clustered together like lanterns scattered across the earth.
Others tower above us, their stems thick as tree trunks, their wide caps spreading overhead like great luminous canopies that bathe the city in soft light.
The air feels somewhat cooler and heavier here. It’s filled with a faint, sweet scent I cannot name, something between damp earth and crushed petals.
A river winds through the cavern below, its waters catching the glow of the gemstones and mushrooms alike, turning the surface into a ribbon of liquid silver that reflects the entire city in ethereal light.
And woven through it all are buildings. They are not built on the stone but shaped from it.
White and silver structures rise from the mountain floor, their lines smooth and curved. Balconies overlook the glowing river, slender bridges arch between towers, and intricate carvings spiral up pillars that seem almost too fine to have been carved from stone at all.
I gaze at the city in awe. It’s not simply beautiful. It’s… otherworldly, as if I’ve stepped into a place that has existed long before I was born and will remain long after I am gone.
As we move deeper into the cavern, Dark Elves pause in their work as we pass, their glowing eyes lifting toward us, their gazes drawn to both Auren and me. One by one, they bow low in respect.
Even my own father does not receive this much welcome when he returns from his travels. Auren must be a good king for them to react this way.
Vaelen slows, his ears flicking forward as someone approaches up ahead.
I lift my gaze. And there, at the far end of the bridge, another Dire Wolf steps into view. He’s darker than Vaelen, his fur a deep, shadowed black that seems to swallow the soft glow around him rather than reflect it. His eyes gleam faintly gold as he moves forward with a predatory grace.
The man astride him is impossible to mistake. There’s something in the set of his shoulders, in the line of his jaw, that echoes Auren so clearly that for a moment it feels like looking at a reflection altered just enough to be unsettling.
But where Auren’s presence is steady, quiet, and grounding, this one is sharper.
His gaze finds Auren first. Then, it slowly shifts to me and lingers as Vaelen comes to a stop a few paces away.
“It is good to have you home again, Brother,” the man says at last.
“You too, Tarin,” Auren replies warmly.
Tarin’s gaze flicks toward me again, and though his face remains neutral, there’s something beneath it akin to wariness. He dips his chin in a bow. “And welcome to Elyrith, my Queen.”
I incline my head in return, matching the formality even as unease moves through me. “Thank you, Prince Tarin.”
Tarin rides beside us as we make our way through the streets toward the castle up ahead. Several pairs of eyes watch us as we pass, and while I try to ignore them, they make me a bit self-conscious.
“Most of our people have never seen a human up close,” Auren whispers in my ear. “They are merely curious about their new queen.”
Queen. I don’t feel like a queen. Not now while my world still feels as though it’s been upended.
Tarin leans closer to Auren, his voice lowering just enough that it no longer carries. “A raven arrived from the Goblin kingdom.” Auren tenses behind me even as my own heart rate picks up. “We should speak in your private chambers as soon as we reach the castle.”
“Alright,” Auren replies in a low voice.
A knot of worry twists deep within at the mention of the Goblin kingdom as my mind drifts to my father’s bargain, and the promise he made before I was born. As if sensing my worry, Auren’s arm tightens around my waist, his warmth steady and grounding.
The path curves again, carrying us deeper into the mountain, and then the space opens before us in a way that makes my breath catch all over again.
At first, I do not recognize it for what it is. It doesn’t rise like a castle, or impose itself upon the mountain the way the fortresses of my father’s kingdom do, with their sharp edges and towering walls meant to intimidate.
Instead, the stone seems to have been coaxed into shape, drawn upward into sweeping arches and slender towers that feel less like something built and more like something revealed. As if the very mountain itself has become a palace.
White stone curves gracefully into structures that seem to grow from the rock, their lines flowing and elegant, their surfaces catching the soft glow of gemstones embedded deep within the cavern walls.
Golden light spills from the tall windows, their soft glow blending with that of the crystals so that the entire structure seems to breathe with quiet, living magic.
As I gaze in wonder at the beauty before me, sadness steals through me. This is where he lives and rules. The image of Auren the soldier—the man I fell in love with—falls away entirely, to be replaced by Auren the king.
My heart desperately wants to believe he’s the same person, but part of me worries I may be wrong.
We pass beneath a wide archway, the stone curving overhead. It’s quieter here, as though this place exists just slightly removed from everything else.
Servants line the entry hall. One by one, they bow. Their gazes lift to Auren first, and then to me, their expressions curious.
Tarin’s voice carries in a low murmur. “The people rejoiced when they heard you had taken a mate and queen.”
The words should feel like welcome and acceptance, but there’s something in the way he says them that tells me the sentiment does not belong entirely to him.
We continue forward, deeper into the palace. The walls are decorated with carvings, intricate patterns that spiral and weave through the stone in flowing lines that resemble something in nature—vines or water or wind.
Beautiful tapestries are displayed along the walls. Low tables and elegant seating arrangements fill the alcoves, each space arranged with a balance that feels both deliberate and natural.
At the far end of the hall, a set of tall double doors rises before us, carved from the same pale stone, their surfaces etched with scrolling designs that seem almost alive beneath the glow of the crystals.
Vaelen comes to a stop, and Auren dismounts first, and then helps me down.
The guards open the doors, and we step inside with Tarin.
I glance around the room. A large, pale wooden desk rests near the far wall, covered with scrolls and books. Across from it is a fireplace with a small grouping of chairs and a low sofa with thick, plush gray cushions.
Beyond the far wall, another set of doors stands partially closed, leading to what I assume is Auren’s private bedchamber.
The guards close the doors behind us, and the silence that follows is heavy and deliberate as Tarin turns to us. The careful composure he wore outside disappears. “Did you know,” he says, gaze fixed on Auren, “that her father made a bargain with the Goblin King?”
“Yes,” Auren replies without hesitation. “I did.”
“What in the seven realms were you thinking?” Tarin gives him an incredulous look. “Do you realize what this means? Goblins are dangerous. Why would you deliberately cross their King?”
“She was married before her twenty-third year,” Auren replies evenly. “The terms of the bargain have been met.”
“You think that matters to a Goblin?” Tarin shakes his head. “They do not forgive being outwitted. If the bargain gave him claim, he will take it.”
A chill spreads through me. “But the terms were fulfilled,” I say, stepping forward. “How could he insist otherwise?”
Tarin runs a hand roughly through his hair as he paces back and forth before the fireplace.
“Goblins are clever. There’s usually a clause…
some sort of loophole in their agreements.
Something that guarantees they get what they’ve bargained for.
” He looks at Auren accusingly. “We’ve dealt with them before. You know this.”
He does? I blink up at him. “What does he mean?”
Auren takes my hand, squeezing it gently.
“Their kingdom—Thornreach—borders ours. We’ve had many dealings with them regarding trade.
Their contracts do tend to be cleverly worded in their favor, and there could be something your father missed when he signed the agreement.
I’ll likely have to make a deal with him to free you. ”
“Gods know what he’ll ask for,” Tarin says, exasperatedly, lifting his gaze to the ceiling. “I can only imagine.”
Worry snakes down my spine. As if sensing my growing anxiety, Auren loops an arm around my waist, tucking me closer to his side.
Tarin gestures to a scroll on the desk. “This arrived a few days ago from Thornreach.” He looks at me. “Your father—King Edric—informed him of your marriage, but the Goblin King doesn’t care.”
Auren picks up the parchments, and Tarin points to a paragraph near the top. “He says it doesn’t matter if she’s married with a dozen children. He demands she appear in his court before the eve of her twenty-third birthday to fulfill the terms of the bargain.”
“So there must be some sort of clause,” Auren murmurs, scanning the rest of the message. “Something your father wasn’t aware of when he made the deal.”
Panic grips me in an iron vise. It doesn’t matter that I’m married, and it wouldn’t make a difference if Auren and I consummated our vows. The Goblin King will not release me.
“He wants her,” Tarin says. “And I don’t believe he’ll stop until he has her.” There is no embellishment in the words, and no attempt to soften them. Only brutal truth.
“He cannot have her,” Auren replies, his voice resolute. He turns to me and cups my chin. “Don’t worry, Vivienne. I won’t let him have you.”
My breath hitches as I realize what he’s saying. Auren is a good man, and he’s telling me that even if I decide to annul our marriage, he’ll protect me, regardless of the cost to himself.
“Goblins are powerful. Their magic rivals ours,” Tarin says. “If this leads to war, we will not win it easily.” He looks at Auren. “And you have given them reason to move against us.”
Tense silence fills the air as my thoughts begin to spiral. War, magic, bargains… All of it leads back to me.
A soft knock at the door breaks the moment.
“Enter!” Auren calls out.
The door opens, and the healer steps inside, her attention immediately turning to me. “You should be resting,” Meryl says. “Sit. I need to check your injuries.”
“Injuries?” Tarin frowns. “The Ogre attack was three days ago. Shouldn’t she be nearly mended by now?” he asks, something slightly accusatory in his tone as he looks at the healer.
I’m stunned because I get the sense Auren’s brother doesn’t quite approve of me, and yet he seems upset on my behalf that I’m still hurting.
“You’ve not heard of the Mountain Goblins, then, my Prince,” she says calmly.
Her gaze shifts to Auren. “Perhaps your brother can tell you about it while I treat his mate.” She looks at me, her expression one of approval.
“She saved us all. Without her bravery, I doubt we’d be here, having this conversation. ”
Tarin’s mouth falls open as he looks between me and Auren.
“Now, both of you—out,” she says firmly. “I need to assess the queen.”
Auren turns to me. “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he says before he leaves with Tarin.
As the door closes behind them, I stare at the scroll on Auren’s desk. The Goblin King is demanding I go to him, and Auren is determined to protect me. Dread twists deep within as I realize everything my Dark Elf husband is willing to risk for my sake.
Whatever I thought I understood about him… I believe I may have only just begun to see him clearly.