Chapter 1 Rhianelle #3
“Will they?” I ask. “What if your warriors leave?”
“Some might stay. Glenn and his legion will stay I think. They have nowhere else to go.” He pauses. “Theo will stay because I ask him to. Kieran will stay because he likes the wine in your kingdom.”
That startles a laugh out of me.
We reach the steps leading up to the main entrance. Landon stops, turning to face me fully. The afternoon sun catches in his dark hair and I’m struck again by how beautiful he is.
“They won’t fight for Aelfheim,” he says. “You understand that, don’t you? Even if the Fae King marches on your borders tomorrow, most of them will refuse.”
“I know,” I say quietly.
“Then why offer sanctuary at all?” he asks. “You gain nothing from it except more mouths to feed and more suspicion from your own people.”
I consider the careful arguments my advisors made and every strategic advantage they claimed his warriors might offer. Standing here with the bond humming between us, I choose honesty instead. “Because you asked me to.”
Surprise crosses his face before he can hide it.
“I trust you,” I continue. “My heart tells me this is the right thing to do.”
Landon reaches out. His hand pauses in the air between us for just a moment before he turns it and brushes the backs of his fingers along my cheek. The tenderness of the touch makes my throat tight.
“You’re going to make a dangerous queen if you keep making decisions with your heart.” Amusement warms his voice.
This time he smiles. It’s small and fleeting but it transforms his face. I wonder what he looked like before the betrayal, before he became the Herald of the Wild Hunt. If he smiled more easily then.
“Come,” he says. “I’ll walk you back to the city.”
We climb the steps together. Coral follows, claws clicking on stone.
The city rises in broad stone terraces, its slate-roofed buildings crowded between workshops, inns and open markets.
Arched bridges connect the higher streets while narrow canals carry mountain water past mills and smithies.
Even this late in the day, merchants call from painted stalls and wagons rumble through the gates bearing goods from kingdoms far beyond Aelfheim.
Volundr is not like the capital. It never has been.
The streets here are wide and busy, and the people who fill them come from a dozen different places.
Merchant caravans unload their goods near the eastern gates.
Dwarven traders argue prices in three languages at once.
Half-bloods and humans rub shoulders with elves without a second glance.
I have always loved that about this city.
It has never been precious about who it lets through its gates.
But they look at Landon.
Heads turn as he walks beside me. Conversations falter, and several shopkeepers pause in the middle of their work to watch us pass.
Fae merchants, travelers and envoys are hardly uncommon here, so it cannot be his pointed ears that draw their attention.
It must be his armor, his bearing and the authority he carries with every step.
Seeing a fae in Volundr is ordinary. Seeing a commander of the Wild Hunt walking beside their queen is not.
As we turn onto the street leading toward the keep, a familiar unease returns. There is another matter that has troubled me since I woke. My uncle brought a vampire into our kingdom. Not just any Nightwalker, but a Strigon, one of the first of their kind.
Arescaine Darian Andras.
Rainer is powerful enough that very little about him surprises me anymore. If anyone could force such a creature into obedience, it would be my uncle. Still, I cannot understand why he would allow something so dangerous within our walls or whether the vampire is truly under his control.
The vampire stands at the far end of the market street, still as something carved from stone.
He suddenly turns in our direction. His gaze finds mine and something shifts in his expression.
It’s gone too quickly for me to catch. He begins walking toward us through the crowd.
The people of Volundr give him a wide path.
My heart slams against my ribs.
I stop so suddenly that Coral nearly walks into me.
My hand flies to my chest, pressing hard over the frantic beat beneath my palm.
I have been in Astefar. I have faced things in those wilds that most people only hear about in stories, gods and monsters and things that don’t have names. I have stood in front of all of them.
I have never felt like this.
My chest is too tight and my hands have gone cold.
Stop, I think. Stop it. You will embarrass yourself.
I don’t want to faint in the middle of the market. Landon will see and he will think I am weak.
Please stop beating so hard, I beg my heart.
My vision blurs at the edges. I feel like I might begin to cry in the middle of the street. I do not understand what is happening to me. Every instinct screams at me to run, but my legs refuse to move.
I step behind Landon instead, using his body to shield me as Arescaine draws closer. Shame burns through me even as I clutch the back of Landon’s coat. The vampire passes without a word. I could swear his gaze finds me before he moves on, though it lasts only a moment.
Landon turns as soon as Arescaine is gone. “Rhianelle, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I release his coat and force my hands to my sides. “I am only tired.”
I straighten and move back to his side. I don’t look down the street again.
Concern remains in Landon’s eyes, but he does not press me. I lower my gaze as we continue walking. The shame comes quietly, settling in behind the fear. He must think me a coward, hiding behind him because a vampire happened to cross our path.
We reach my chambers. Darstan is at the door. He nods respectfully but his eyes linger on Landon for some reason.
“Thank you,” I say. “For today. For bringing me to meet your legion.”
“You needed to see them for yourself,” Landon replies. “And they needed to see the queen who gave them shelter.”
His gaze lingers on me, as though he still wants to ask about what happened in the street. Instead, he steps back. “You should rest. I will leave you to it.”
He inclines his head and turns to leave, but I catch his arm. The thread flares at the contact, warm and insistent.
I find it hard to say the next part. “I do not want Alys or the others to resent you because of me. I do not want to become another burden you have to carry.”
Landon looks down at my hand before meeting my eyes. “What are you saying?”
“Your warriors already distrust me,” I say. “What if they come to hate you because I am your mate? They have lost their home and their king. Now you have brought them into an elven kingdom and bound yourself to its queen.”
The fear sounds worse once spoken aloud. “I do not want them to believe you chose me over them.”
Landon stares at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then something in his face softens.
He cups my face in both hands, the gesture sudden and startling. His eyes search mine. “You are my mate. My warriors will respect that or they’ll leave. It’s that simple.”
The bond sings between us, warm and bright. For a moment, I let myself lean into him and take the comfort he’s offering.
His mouth quirks in that almost-smile again. “Rest, Rhianelle. Tomorrow will bring its own troubles.”
He leaves me at my door. I watch him walk down the corridor until he turns the corner and disappears from sight. The golden thread stretches taut between us.
Inside, I collapse onto my bed and Coral curls against me.
I bury my face in her neck and breathe in the familiar scent of her.
Beyond the window, the last light fades from the sky and the distant cries of wyverns carry through the evening air.
I cling to the impossible hope that somehow, against all odds, this sanctuary might lead to peace instead of war.
I close my eyes and try not to think of the dozen ways this could all fall apart. Sleep comes slowly, dragging me down into dreams of fire, wings, and chaos.