Chapter 12 Rhianelle
My legs shake as I dismount from Sunstorm.
It’s the good kind of trembling. My muscles are fatigued from a job well done, not fear.
Three weeks of training, and I’m finally starting to understand what Landon means when he talks about becoming one with the wyvern.
Today I held formation through a complex aerial maneuver without a single correction.
“Excellent work,” Landon says, swinging down from his own mount with effortless grace. There’s pride in his voice, and the golden string glows warm between us. “You’re a natural, Rhianelle. Better than riders I’ve trained for years.”
I manage a tired smile, pushing sweat-damp hair from my face. “I had a good teacher.”
His expression softens. For a moment, something passes between us. Then he clears his throat and turns to tend to his wyvern. The moment breaks.
I look down at the platform below, searching for the familiar pale shape that’s always there.
Coral usually watches every training session, sitting at the platform’s edge with her nose pointed skyward, tracking my movements.
Sometimes she still tries to jump, though less frequently now.
Mostly she just watches, making small chirping sounds whenever Sunstorm and I execute a successful turn.
But today, the platform edge is empty.
My stomach drops. “Coral?”
I scan the training grounds, looking for that distinctive white shimmer of her scales. I don’t see her anywhere. The other wyverns are scattered across their platforms, riders tending to them. None of them is Coral.
“Have you seen Coral?” I ask one of the stable hands as I hurry past.
He shakes his head. “Not since this morning, Your Highness. She was mucking about near the water troughs earlier.”
I try the stables first. Her sleeping area is empty, the straw nest I made for her undisturbed since this morning. The food I left has been eaten, but that could have been hours ago.
“Coral!” I call, my voice echoing through the stable corridors. Several young wyverns lift their heads at the sound, but none of them are mine.
I search the water troughs, but she is not there. The feeding area is empty too, as is the sunny spot behind the barracks where she likes to nap.
My heart begins to pound harder. It’s not like her to wander far. Despite her stubbornness during training, Coral has always been close by, always within sight or sound.
My little one doesn’t have the survival instincts of a normal wyvern. She’s too trusting and gentle. If she’s wandered into the wrong area, if someone mistakes her for a wild creature and hurts her—
“Your Highness?” Garrett approaches hesitantly. “Is something wrong?”
“Have you seen Coral?” I ask the knight, hurrying toward him.
“Oh, the little one?” He nods slowly. “I saw her heading toward the upper city maybe an hour ago. Thought it was odd, but she seemed to know where she was going.”
The upper district. That’s nowhere near the training grounds or her usual haunts. “Which direction?”
He points toward the northern gate, the one that leads down into Volundr proper. “She went through there. Coral walked right through like she had business to attend to.”
How odd…
I start to turn away, but something in Garrett’s expression stops me.
Something is off.
He offers me one of his familiar smiles. It never quite reaches his eyes. There’s always something about my knight, something heavy living just beneath the surface.
A sadness he keeps buried beneath smiles, duty and perfect manners.
He carries it so well, most people would never notice. It worries me.
I reach out and place my hand over his. “Are you all right?”
Garrett looks down at our joined hands, surprise flickering across his face. “Of course, Your Highness.”
“You seem to have a lot on your mind,” I say. “More than you ever let anyone see.”
His smile fades. For a moment, I think he might finally tell me what troubles him. Instead, he lowers his gaze. “I have been thinking about the Aeonians. We exposed their order, but one of them escaped.”
I remember the list I found in the tent. Six names.
Samara. Leafhdraich. Kabur. Thormein. Siullan. Kafrenn.
My memory of what happened is patchy, fragmented pieces that don't always connect. But I remember enough. I remember what happened to them.
Kafrenn died at Arescaine’s hand in the tunnel. Four more fell in the arena. Arescaine killed Samara, my patrons killed Leafhdraich and Siullan. Kabur fell to Rainer, my knights, Shade, and Wolf.
That leaves Thormein.
“I still haven’t been able to find Thormein, the last Aeonian. It sits with me.” His fingers curl beneath mine, as though he is holding on to something he cannot release.
“Garrett, you uncovered what they were doing and exposed them to all of Aelfheim. I am more grateful than I can say.”
“But if the remaining Aeonian begins again—”
“Then we will find him,” I say.
His jaw tightens. He is still punishing himself for it.
“Do not be so hard on yourself,” I tell him gently. “You need rest.”
I already gave Darstan time away to be with Siofra and Aldric. Perhaps my other two royal guards should take some time for themselves as well. “Consider yourself relieved of duty for a few days, Garrett.”
“What? But your protection—”
“Rainer has hired enough guards to protect an entire royal court, let alone one household. I will be safe.” I squeeze his hand before releasing it. “Rest easy, Garrett.”
He opens his mouth to argue. I shake my head before he can.
A faint smile touches his mouth. This one is more real, though the sadness behind it remains. “Thank you, Your Highness.”
I wish I had time to ask him more, but Coral has already been gone for an hour. Every moment I remain here gives her more time to wander deeper into the city.
I leave Garrett and hurry toward the northern gate. Behind me, Landon calls my name, asking me to return to the training grounds.
He wants me to practice more formations with his legion, but I don’t stop. Something is wrong. I can feel it in my bones. I break into a run hoping I’ll reach Coral in time.
I find her trail near the market square. A smear of mud on the cobblestones that could only come from dragging wings. My heart clenches at the sight.
She’s not even trying to hold them up anymore.
The trail leads away from the main thoroughfare, into the narrow alleys that wind between buildings.
Ahead, I catch a glimpse of pale scales disappearing around a corner.
I follow, pressing myself against the damp stone walls, using every bit of cover the narrow alley provides. The mud trail continues. Two shallow grooves run through the muck where her wings dragged behind her.
The alley opens into a small courtyard and there she is. Coral moves with her head low, her tail tucked, her wings trailing through puddles and dirt. She doesn’t look around or pause to investigate interesting smells. My little one doesn’t even bother to chase the rat that scurries across her path.
I follow her through three more streets, past the tanner’s shop and the abandoned granary with its broken windows. She never looks back or notices me trailing behind her. The sun is setting, casting long shadows that help conceal me.
Coral turns down another alley, this one even narrower than the last. I can hear a rhythmic clanging and the hiss of steam.
Every muscle in my body goes tight.
Oh no.
The forge. She’s heading to the forge. To Arescaine, the vampire blacksmith.
I trust Arescaine more than I did before our mission together. He protected me from the commander’s spell, allowing his own wings to burn rather than let the fire touch me. But trusting him with my life in one dangerous moment is not the same as trusting him with Coral.
What if she distracts him while he is handling molten metal? What if she knocks something over or gets beneath his feet while he is working?
Then there are the stories people whisper about vampires. Stories of violent tempers and terrible things done to those who provoke them. I have seen enough of Arescaine to know that many of those tales may be unfair but Coral is stubborn. She is clumsy and entirely unaware of danger.
Coral could easily get in his way while he was working, knock something over, or startle him at the wrong moment. Would his patience hold?
My hands curl into fists. I move faster now. I have to reach her.
The alley opens up, and I see the forge. Light spills from its open front, warm and golden. Coral heads straight toward it.
She walks right up to the entrance and disappears inside.
I press myself against the wall of the building across from the forge. My heart hammers so hard I’m sure someone will hear it.
I edge closer, using the gathering darkness as cover. My feet are silent on the cobblestones. I can’t see inside from here. I need to get closer. There’s a stack of crates near the forge entrance. If I can reach them and crouch behind them, I’ll have a clear view inside without being seen.
Three silent steps, then four. I slip behind the crates. Finally, I can see. But what I see makes absolutely no sense at all.
Coral’s tail is wagging.
Not the sad, listless movement I’ve seen lately but a full, enthusiastic wag that sends droplets of mud flying across the forge floor.
Arescaine looks down at my wyvern and sighs.
“You again,” the dangerous vampire blacksmith says, his voice carrying clearly to my hiding spot.
Coral chirps happily and headbutts his leg, leaving a muddy smear on his breeches.
He sighs. “You’re tracking mud everywhere. Hrolf is going to have my head.”
But even as he complains, he reaches down and scratches behind her jaw ridge. That’s exactly where she likes it, I realize with a start. It’s exactly the spot that makes her eyes half-close in bliss.
How does he know that?
Coral makes a pleased rumbling sound and flops down right there in the middle of the forge, her wings spreading out like she owns the place. One wing tip knocks over a bucket of water. Arescaine jumps back to avoid the splash, cursing in an ancient language I do not know.