Chapter 3 Rhianelle
The morning sun streams through the tavern windows, casting golden patterns across our breakfast table.
Rainer sits across from me, seemingly absorbed in his newspaper, while Shade occupies the third chair, his massive wolf companion stretched out beneath his feet.
The Grimsbane keeps his hood up despite being indoors.
The wolf hasn’t moved since we sat down, chin resting on its paws.
He is remarkably well-behaved, ignoring the scents of eggs, bacon, and fresh bread drifting above him.
Only the occasional twitch of his nose betrays his interest.
Perhaps that is because some part of him is still an elf, trapped inside the body of a wolf. I have searched every spellbook I can find for a way to break the curse, but nothing has worked. Whoever cast it was exceptionally skilled.
I might be able to create a potion strong enough to weaken the transformation, but several of the herbs I would need grow only in Avalon. With the borders closed and war spreading between our kingdoms, obtaining them is impossible.
“Is the bread always this dry, or were we simply unlucky this morning?” I ask, spreading honey on my bread.
“The honey will help.” Rainer doesn’t even look up from his paper.
“If you say so,” I murmur, then decide to address my real concern. “But Uncle, what were you thinking bringing that... that vampire to Volundr?”
Now Rainer does look up. “What do you mean?”
“The blacksmith,” I say, lowering my voice even though the tavern is nearly empty at this early hour. “The one working at the forge down the street. Do you have any idea how dangerous those creatures are? They’re monsters, Uncle.”
Shade glances at me before lowering his attention to the wolf again. His gloved hand moves slowly over the animal’s head.
Rainer sets down his mug slowly. “Is that so? And what makes you think he’s dangerous?”
“He’s a vampire,” I say flatly. “They feed on blood.”
Shade and Rainer exchange a look. Neither speaks.
“Arescaine has been nothing but helpful to our cause.” Rainer sets down his paper slowly. “He’s created weapons and armor that have saved countless elven lives.”
“But at what cost?” I insist. “He will want something in return.”
“Perhaps…” Rainer clears his throat softly.
Normally, I’d press further, but something draws my attention to the window. Through the warped glass, I can see the forge across the square.
There he is… the vampire in question.
He’s working shirtless despite the cool morning.
His pale skin seems to glow in the firelight from the forge.
Muscles ripple across his back as he brings a hammer down on glowing metal, each strike precise and powerful.
His dark hair is tied back, revealing the sharp angles of his face and the tension in his jaw as he concentrates.
I realize I’m staring and quickly look away, heat rising to my cheeks.
“Rhianelle?” Rainer’s voice breaks through my thoughts. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” I say too quickly, taking a large bite of eggs to avoid having to say more. “I’m just... concerned about the safety of our people. Having a vampire in the city seems like an unnecessary risk.”
“He’s been thoroughly vetted,” Shade says. “You have nothing to fear from him.”
“Fear isn’t the right word,” I mutter before I can stop myself.
They both look at me sharply.
“What was that?” Rainer asks.
“Nothing. I just...” I risk another glance out the window. The vampire has paused in his work, using a cloth to wipe sweat from his brow. The morning light catches on his skin, making him look like a marble statue come to life.
Beautiful… and dangerous.
“I think it’s reckless,” I say firmly, forcing myself to focus on my breakfast. “Bringing a vampire here, letting him work so close to where we’re staying. What if he loses control? What if he decides to feed on our people?”
“He won’t,” Rainer says with such certainty that I look at him in surprise.
“How can you be so sure?” I set down my fork.
My uncle picks up his coffee cup and takes a long sip, clearly buying time. “I have it on good authority that he has... alternative arrangements for feeding. He’s no threat to our people.”
“Good authority,” I repeat skeptically. “From whom?”
Another exchange of looks between him and his trusted Grimsbane. The silence stretches uncomfortably.
“Uncle,” I say, frustration creeping into my voice. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“There is nothing you need to worry about right now,” he replies honestly. “Trust me, niece. The vampire is here to help.”
“Vampires don’t help. They take. They manipulate. They—”
“Have you ever actually met one?” Shade interrupts, then seems to catch himself. “I mean, Your Highness, have you ever personally interacted with a vampire?”
I frown, trying to remember. “I think so… I must have, at some point. But I can’t seem to...” I trail off, pressing fingers to my temple.
There’s a void in my memory, a strange blankness that makes my head ache when I try to remember.
“Perhaps you shouldn’t strain yourself,” Rainer suggests gently. “You’re still recovering from your injuries.”
There are so many gaps in my memory lately, like someone has taken scissors to the tapestry of my past and cut out random pieces.
Rainer returns to his newspaper while Shade tears a piece from his bacon and lowers his hand beneath the table.
The wolf takes it delicately from his fingers without lifting his head.
I watch him chew and wonder whether he understands what he has become.
Does some part of him remember walking on two legs or speaking with an elven tongue?
The curse has trapped him so completely that I cannot tell where the wolf ends and the half-elf begins.
I do not even know where to begin unraveling magic this powerful.
The failure weighs on me every time I look at him.
I find my gaze drawn once again to the window.
The vampire is looking this way.
Our eyes meet across the square, and something electric shoots through me. His gaze is intense, burning with emotion. My heart begins to race, and I have the inexplicable urge to go to him, to touch his face, to—
I jerk back from the window so fast I nearly knock over my tea.
Rainer lowers his paper again. “What did you see?”
“Nothing,” I lie, my heart still pounding. “I just... thought I saw something.”
But when I risk another peek, the vampire has returned to his work, hammering at the metal as if nothing happened.
As if he hadn’t just looked at me like I was everything he’d ever wanted and everything he’d lost.
“I need some air,” I announce, standing abruptly.
“Would you like company?” Shade offers, already half-rising from his chair.
“No,” I say quickly. “I just need a moment alone.”
Rainer watches me with those too-knowing eyes of his.
“Don’t go far,” he says carefully.
My uncle has watched me this closely ever since I woke, as though looking away for even a moment might allow something else to happen to me.
His protectiveness can be suffocating, but I cannot resent him for it.
At least he has stopped reaching for a bottle whenever fear or anger gets the better of him.
Somewhere during the long days of my recovery, Rainer stopped drinking.
I noticed the change but said nothing. Some things do not need to be spoken aloud.
I would rather endure his constant vigilance than watch him disappear into the bottom of a bottle again.
Out on the street, the morning air is cool and sharp. I tell myself I just need to walk to clear my head. There’s a market two streets over and the stalls are already busy, vendors calling out prices, the smell of fresh bread and cut flowers mixing with woodsmoke.
I stop at a fabric stall near the square’s edge. The merchant has bolts of silk in a dozen colors. I pick one up, running the material between my fingers and studying the weave as though its quality matters greatly to me.
I do not care at all about the fabric.
Across the square, the forge is open and already loud with work.
The Strigon moves with the quiet grace of a predator, even while doing something as ordinary as arranging his tools or feeding the forge. He is taller than most elves and built like a warrior, even with a blacksmith’s tools spread before him. I have never seen anything so dangerously beautiful.
What am I doing?
The thought surfaces, but I ignore it just as quickly. He’s examining a blade now, running his finger along the edge to test its sharpness. When it draws blood, he simply watches the wound seal in seconds. A small smile pulls at his mouth.
That smile does something to my insides.
“That’s beautiful silk, Your Highness,” the vendor says loudly, clearly trying to recapture my attention. “Perfect for a ball, I think.”
“I’ll take three yards,” I say absently, not even looking at what I’m agreeing to purchase.
“Of the pink silk?” The vendor sounds surprised. “I would have thought silver or blue would suit your coloring better.”
“Yes, fine, silver then.” I dig in my purse for coins, desperate to complete this transaction so I can return to my... observation.
He’s left the forge now, walking to the water barrel to cool a piece of metal. The steam that rises wreaths around him like mist. For a moment he looks otherworldly, like something from the old stories. A dark prince or a fallen god.
The way he pushes his damp hair back from his face makes my fingers itch with the desire to do it for him.
Stop it. You are here to watch a dangerous vampire, not admire him.
I force my attention back to the silk in my hands and try to listen as the vendor explains its weave. Her words blur together. I nod anyway. After a moment, I glance over again.
He’s looking at me again.
I’m partially hidden behind the fabric stall’s awning, but somehow he knows exactly where I am. His eyes are dark as midnight, yet something burns within them as they lock onto mine.
He doesn’t smile.
My pulse kicks hard. Is this a threat? I do not frighten easily, and yet something about the way he watches me makes my heart beat harder.
My cheeks burn and I look away, pretending to be fascinated by a display of ribbons. The weight of his gaze stays on my skin anyway.
“Your Highness seems quite taken with our local craftsman,” the vendor says slyly.
“I don’t know what you mean,” I reply stiffly, though the heat in my face betrays me.
“Oh, many of the ladies have noticed him,” she continues, clearly enjoying my discomfort. “Dangerous creatures, Nightwalkers. But there’s something thrilling about danger, isn’t there? The way they look at you like they want to devour you whole...”
“I think that is quite enough,” I say, though my voice comes out breathier than intended.
The vendor chuckles. “Of course, Your Highness. Though I should mention, that particular vampire seems to have eyes only for you. He barely looks at anyone else.”
My heart skips painfully. “That’s... That’s ridiculous. He doesn’t even know me.”
“I would not be so certain of that,” the old seller replies, her attention suddenly fixed on the silk between her hands.
There it is again. That same weight behind the words, like everyone around me is reading from a page I’ve never seen. Why does it feel like everyone knows something I don’t?
I take my wrapped silk and walk away from the stall. I can’t go far. It’s like there’s an invisible thread connecting me to the forge, to him. The farther I get, the more it pulls.
I circle the fountain once, pretending to admire the carved stonework while searching for another place from which I can see him. A bench sits beneath an arch of flowering vines on the opposite side of the square. It is shaded, partly hidden, and perfectly positioned.
I sit with the silk folded across my lap and tell myself I am only resting. The walk from the tavern was not long enough to tire me, but that hardly matters. I am enjoying the morning air, not stalking a vampire.
My gaze slips back to the forge.
Arescaine has set his tools aside and is using a bucket of water to wash the soot and sweat from his skin.
Water runs over his shoulders and down his chest, tracing the hard lines of his body before darkening the waistband of his trousers.
I should look away. Instead, I sit very still beneath the vines and watch every drop.
He’s scarred, I realize. Old marks that even vampire healing couldn’t completely erase. They speak of battles, of pain, of survival. I have the strangest urge to trace each one with my fingers, to learn their stories.
“You’re torturing yourself.”
I jump at Shade's voice. He has appeared beside me without a sound, his hood still raised despite the warming day and the wolf standing quietly at his side. It circles the bench once before settling at his feet.
“I don’t know what you mean,” I say, keeping my eyes forward.
Shade lowers himself onto the other end of the bench. “You’ve been watching him for an hour.”
Has it been that long? The sun has indeed climbed higher, the morning shadows shortening.
“I’m observing a potential threat,” I say, folding my arms.
A sound that might be a laugh comes from beneath his demonic mask. “Is that what you call it?”
“He's a vampire in our city. Someone should keep an eye on him.” I keep my gaze fixed ahead.
“Someone is,” Shade agrees. “You. Very closely. Some might say longingly.”
Heat floods my face. My foot swings out to kick his shin. “How dare you—”
But he’s already stepping back. “Your uncle is looking for you. There’s a war council this afternoon. The Aldarelfs want to see you.”
“Shade, wait—”
He is gone before I can say anything else, melting into the crowd as though the market has swallowed him. His wolf companion rises from beneath the bench and follows at his heels, charcoal fur vanishing between the passing shoppers.
I gather the silk from my lap and stand.
Across the square, the vampire is watching me again.
Fear catches beneath my ribs. Arescaine takes one step toward the edge of the forge. For a moment, I think he means to follow me. Then he stops. His hands close into fists at his sides as though he is holding himself back.
He turns away first and disappears into the darkness of the forge.
I press a hand against my chest. My heart beats so hard beneath my palm that it hurts. I do not know why the sight of him frightens me more than any monster I faced in Astefar. I only know that I need to leave before he looks at me again.