Chapter 12 Rhianelle #3
“I don’t know.” He looks down at Coral, who has raised her head to watch us both. “The metal is strong but light. Hrolf helped with the design. Apparently dwarves have been making prosthetics for centuries. But I won’t know if it works until we try it.”
“We?” I repeat, startled by the word.
He looks at me, and there’s something in his eyes I can’t read. “She’s your wyvern, Your Highness. I won’t try anything without your permission.”
Your Highness. So formal and distant. Moments ago, he called me Rhianelle. Then my queen. I should prefer the proper title, but instead I find myself wanting to hear those other words again.
I stare at the harness, at the vampire holding it, at my wyvern who stubbornly stayed by his side.
“Why?” I ask suddenly. “Why would you do this? Spend weeks or months designing something like this?”
His expression closes off. “I like a challenge. Blacksmithing gets boring without problems to solve.”
I narrow my eyes. “There has to be a catch.”
He turns back to the harness, adjusting one of the narrow leather straps. “There is none. If it helps her, does the reason matter?”
Yes, I want to say. It matters because I don’t understand you. Every time I look at you I feel like there is a word on the tip of my tongue that I can’t quite speak.
But I don’t say any of that. Instead, I ask, “Can I see it?”
He nods and gestures me closer. I step up to the workbench, acutely aware of how near he is. I can smell coal smoke, metal, and something dark and compelling that makes my pulse quicken.
The harness is even more beautiful up close. Every joint is perfect and every weld seamless. The leather is soft but strong, lined with silk so it won’t chafe her scales.
“You made this,” I breathe. “All of it.”
“Hrolf helped with the frame. I did the detail work.” He picks it up, demonstrating how the joints move. “See here? This section locks when weight is applied. That’s the part that should give her gliding capability.”
He adjusts a small lever, and the wings of the harness extend. “This is for when she’s on the ground. The wings fold back so she can move freely.”
I watch his hands as he demonstrates each feature. “It’s incredible.”
“It’s untested.” But there’s pride in his voice, carefully hidden. “It could be useless.”
“When can we try it?” The words burst out of me before I can stop them.
He looks surprised. “You want to?”
“Of course I want to!” I gesture at Coral, who’s watching us with those intelligent eyes. “If there’s even a chance this could help her, we have to try. We have to—”
My voice breaks. “She’s been destroying herself, picking at her scales and getting sadder every day. If this works, if she can fly, even just glide…”
I can’t finish. The hope is too big and overwhelming. It fills my chest until I can barely breathe.
The keeper and experts said it would be better to end her. Landon never said the same, not in words. But I have seen the way he looks at Coral when she struggles. Sometimes I cannot help wondering if he believes they are right.
But this stranger didn’t accept that Coral was broken beyond repair. He tried to help her.
Arescaine looks down at the brace in his hands. “I should have it ready before the new moon. I need to adjust the fit first, make sure the straps won’t dig into her scales. We should test it over sand and plenty of hay, somewhere soft. In case…”
In case she falls.
“In case the design is flawed,” he adds quickly. “In case I made a mistake in my calculations and the metal can’t support her weight.”
“New moon,” I agree. Then, before I can stop myself, “Thank you.”
He looks at me. For one unguarded moment, something raw rises beneath his carefully controlled expression. Relief softens his face, along with a tenderness so deep that it steals the breath from my lungs.
Then it’s gone, locked away again behind those dark eyes.
“Don’t thank me yet,” he says. “Wait until we know if it works.”
But I’m barely listening because I’m looking at Coral, who has gotten to her feet and is waddling over to sniff the harness. Her tail is wagging again. I think she can feel it too. The hope and possibility.
My wyvern might fly.
Coral will touch the sky that’s been denied to her since birth. She will feel the wind beneath her, the sun above her, and know what it means to be free.
“Before the new moon,” I whisper like a prayer.
Arescaine nods and turns back to his work, already making minute adjustments to the harness. Coral settles down beside him, resting her chin on his boot, completely content.
I stand there in the warm light of the forge, watching the vampire work and feeling something shift in my chest.
I tell myself I’ll leave as soon as he starts working, I’ll go back to the palace and to my duties. But I know, even as I think it, that it’s a lie.
I’m not going anywhere.
Arescaine’s hands return to the metal, shaping and adjusting each delicate piece while Coral sleeps at his feet.
I remain beside the forge, feeling its heat against my skin and watching sparks rise around him.
I cannot explain why this quiet moment feels more real, more right, than anything has in weeks.
The new moon can’t come soon enough.