Chapter 25 Svenn
Hours pass in agonizing slowness. My wound has closed, leaving only a tender scar across my sternum. The transfusion should have reached her by now. Lady Deirdre left hours ago. Enough time to prepare the blood and start the infusion to see if it works.
But Rhianelle's heart keeps slowing.
Maybe it's not enough.
I've gone back to counting each beat. One. Two. Three. The pauses between them stretch longer each time. During those pauses, the world stops. My own heart stops. Everything stops until I hear that next faint thump.
Hrolf has been quiet since Lady Deirdre left, sitting against the wall with his bandaged arm resting across his knees. The blood draw took a lot out of him. More than he'd admit. Four bags worth. That's significant even for a dwarf his size.
Eyepatch's quick stride makes both of us look up. He appears at the cell door.
I tense instinctively, expecting violence. But his sword is sheathed and his hands are empty.
"She wants to see you," he says quietly.
I stare at him, certain I've misheard.
"What?"
"She's awake." He shifts his weight, uncomfortable. "And she asked for you."
Rhianelle's awake. She's alive enough to be conscious. But what does she want to say? Is this goodbye? Is she going to tell me to leave, that she can't forgive what I've done?
"She wants to see me?" I repeat stupidly.
Eyepatch nods. His jaw works like he's chewing on words he doesn't want to say.
"I—" He starts and stops. "About earlier. The sword. I was—"
"You were protecting her," I say simply.
I try to stand and my legs shake. The battle with the Hellspawn, the healing. It's all caught up with me. I grip the wall for support.
Eyepatch steps into the cell, hand outstretched to steady me.
I wave him off.
"Look, I'll let you punch my face and stab me if you want. Fair's fair."
The offer is so absurd I almost laugh.
But it is tempting…
My chest still aches where his blade found home. But all I want right now is to see her. "Maybe later."
"If he won't take it, I will," Hrolf mutters from his cell. "I can't get any sleep with all of you around."
Eyepatch's mouth twitches.
I look at Hrolf. Words fail me. How do I express gratitude for something like this? He saved her life. Bled for someone he should hate. Gave her a chance she wouldn't have otherwise.
"Anything," I murmur, the promise settling into my bones as it leaves my mouth. "Whatever you want, whenever you want it. Just ask and it's yours."
"Get out of here, vampire," Hrolf mutters, not lifting his gaze from the floor. "Let an old man sleep."
But I see the way his hand trembles slightly where it rests on his knee. He's conserving strength after giving so much blood.
"I'll take care of him," Eyepatch says quietly. "Go. She's waiting."
He unlocks my cell fully and steps aside. As I pass, he catches my arm briefly.
"I misjudged you," he says so quietly only I can hear. "I'm sorry."
Eyepatch releases my arm. "There's a room prepared in the healing house. Second floor, third door on the left. Clean clothes, hot water. She doesn't need to see you like this."
He's right. I look like I've crawled out of a grave.
"We're even, elf."
The walk to the room feels surreal. My legs are unsteady but they hold. People are moving about, trying to restore some normalcy after the battle and the wave. They give me a wide berth when they see me. Whispers follow in my wake.
Let them hate me and say whatever they want. As long as she's alive.
The room Eyepatch prepared is small but clean. A basin of hot water steams on a table. Clean clothes are laid out on the bed. Simple but well-made.
I strip off the ruined clothes and drop them in a heap.
My fae beasts can easily remove the dirt but it feels good to wash it away physically.
The water is almost too hot when I plunge my hands in but I welcome the burn.
I scrub at my skin, working through the blood and grime until the water runs dark and the smell of Hel stops clinging to me.
I catch sight of myself in the small mirror above the basin.
I look like death.
I take extra care with my appearance despite the urgency pulling at me. The clean clothes fit well enough. I run wet hands through my hair, trying to tame it into something presentable. It's a losing battle but I try anyway.
I can't delay any longer.
Rhianelle is so close now.
The bitter scent of medicine hits me as I enter.
Willow bark for pain and sweet honeyweed for infection.
Wards shimmer faintly at the threshold. Inside, the suffering is organized into neat rows.
Beds filled with wounded from the battle and from Tayum's Wrath.
Healers move between them checking bandages, murmuring comfort.
One of them glances up as I pass but says nothing.
Third door on the left.
I stop outside, hand raised to knock.
"Come in, Svenn." Her voice, thin and weak but unmistakably hers.
My hand trembles as I push the door open.
The room is small and bright. Morning sunlight streams through a window overlooking the gardens. The tools of healing are arranged neatly on a side table.
Rhianelle is in the bed against the far wall.
My heart breaks all over again.
She's so pale against the white sheets. The color has drained from her face, leaving her skin nearly translucent. But her eyes are open. Those lilac eyes find mine immediately and something in them makes my knees weak.
"What took you so long?" she asks. There's the ghost of her usual spirit in the words, the hint of a smile playing at her lips. "I called for you hours ago. I missed you."
I cross to her bedside in three strides and fall to my knees beside the bed. My hands reach for hers, stopping just short of touching. I'm afraid she's too fragile and I'll hurt her.
Rhianelle solves the problem by reaching for me instead. Her fingers are cold and weak but they find mine and hold on.
"I'm so sorry." My throat tightens around the words. "I lost control. I nearly killed you—"
"Svenn." There's the faintest crease between her brows. "What are you talking about?"
"The battle with the demons. I can't remember most of it but when I woke up you were—"
"You were protecting me," she interrupts. Her fingers squeeze mine with what little strength she has. "Don't you remember?"
"Morgaine, Eirik's mistress. She summoned creatures from Hel during the fight." Her voice is soft, careful with her limited energy. "We were being overwhelmed."
The memories slowly come, coaxed by her voice.
"You were in your beastly form," Rhianelle continues. "Fighting so hard. But there were too many."
I remember now. The endless tide of Hellspawn. Claws and teeth and hunger. My shadows cutting through them but never fast enough.
"But we fought together." A real smile touches her lips now. "We were a good team, Svenn. Every demon I slowed, you finished."
More memories flood back. The dance of it. Back to back, protecting each other.
"We were winning," I say, recalling the moment when the tide started to turn. When the witch's laughter turned to frustration.
"Until she played her last card." Rhianelle's eyes flutter closed briefly. Exhaustion pulling at her. "One more demon from the seventh Hel."
The final memory slots into place with brutal clarity.
The ground erupting. Something massive rising from beneath the earth. It bypassed me entirely to go straight for Rhianelle. She'd tried to dodge but she was already tired from casting so much.
"You ended it." She opens her eyes again. "I've never seen anything like it."
I remember the rage. The absolute fury when I saw her caught in its claws. Everything else disappeared except the thing that dared hurt her. I'd ripped it apart with my bare hands.
"Then you carried me home," she finishes softly. "You gathered me up so carefully and you brought me to the healers."
"I remember," I whisper. The void in my memory is filling now, piece by piece. "I remember all of it."
"You saved me," she says.
I brush my thumb over her cheek. "I almost lost you."
"I'm here," she murmurs softly.
I sit on the edge of the bed and she makes room for me without being asked. Her head finds my shoulder the way it always does. I put my arm around her carefully, mindful of the bandaging, and she sighs. I close my eyes and breathe her in for a moment, storing it away somewhere safe.
For a moment there is nothing else.
My vampire hearing picks up the conversation in the next room. The Hlaryan healers speaking in low tones, thinking they're being quiet enough.
"The transfusion helped. The dwarven blood is compatible, thank the gods. But the damage was severe."
"How long does she have?"
"Six days. Maybe seven if we're lucky. Her organs are failing. The blood gave her time but not enough. There's too much internal damage."
Six days.
The words echo in my mind. Each repetition is another twist of the knife.
Six fucking days?
"Hey." Rhianelle's voice pulls me back. "Where did you go just then?"
"Nowhere." I lift her hand to my lips, kissing each knuckle. "I'm right here."
She can't hear them and I won't let her see it on my face. I stand and reach for the pitcher on the bedside table.
"You should drink something." I pour the water with my back to her, giving myself one breath to put it away.
She takes the cup and drinks slowly. The cough catches her mid-swallow. I take the cup from her hands before she spills it and ease her back against the pillows, one hand steady between her shoulder blades until it passes.
Her eyes are already drifting closed again. The effort of talking has exhausted her. "Stay with me?"
"Always."
Her fingers squeeze mine. "Promise?"
"I promise."
She falls asleep still holding my hand. Her breathing evens out into the shallow rhythm of healing sleep. I pull a chair close, never releasing her fingers. They're warmer now than they were. The blood transfusion is working, at least that much.
I sit and watch her sleep. Memorizing every detail. Her scent, the faint freckles across her cheeks that you can only see when she's this pale.
Six days?
The healers are wrong. They have to be wrong.
Rhianelle's pulse beats faintly against my thumb. I lean forward, pressing my forehead to our joined hands. What kind of gods would grant her back to me only to measure out her life in days?
They must be laughing somewhere at their vicious joke.
Outside the window, the sun continues its journey across the sky. But in this small room, time has stopped. It has narrowed to the space between her breaths. I have six days with the one I love.
And then she'll be gone.
The rage comes up so fast it blinds me. I grip the bedframe and hold it there, breathing through my teeth.
Rhianelle cannot die. She simply cannot.
The word echoes in me like a vow. A defiance hurled at the heavens.
But if the gods are cruel enough to take her anyway—
I'll find a way to follow her into whatever darkness waits. Because a world without her isn't a world worth existing in.