Chapter 27 Svenn
The transition from death to life is violent.
One moment we’re floating in light and nothingness and the next we’re slammed back into our bodies.
Rhianelle convulses against me. A gasp rips from her lungs as she presses both palms to my chest, her weight settling over me where we still sit tangled together on the floor. I wrap an arm around her before she can pitch sideways and hold her against me until the trembling eases.
The throne room. We’re back.
I look around. Everyone is still here.
Bas is leaning against a pillar. His face is drawn and haggard. He looks older than I’ve ever seen him, and that’s saying something for a vampire who’s existed since before recorded history. But when his eyes meet mine, he smiles.
“Brother,” he says. “Welcome back.”
“Bas,” I reply, and there’s so much I want to say. My friend. The only one who has ever been a real brother to me. He fought her from the inside and held on.
Then the room erupts around us.
Shade is pale from the wound the Fae King gave him, but the moment Rhianelle lifts her head, he pushes himself upright. She lets out a broken little laugh as he reaches her.
The Grimsbane wraps his arms around her fiercely, holding on like he has forgotten anyone else is in the room.
“Don’t you ever do that again,” he says, voice rough. “Do you hear me?”
Rhianelle wraps her arms around him. “I’m here, Shade. I’m here.”
Garrett follows.
His armor is dented and bloodied, and he looks like he’s been through hell. I suppose he has. But when Rhianelle turns toward him, his expression breaks.
“Your Highness,” he breathes, like he cannot quite believe she is real.
Rhianelle barely has time to answer before he pulls her into a careful, desperate embrace.
Lucien approaches last. In his wolf form, he presses his massive head against Rhianelle’s shoulder and lets out a low, broken whine. She sinks her fingers into his fur and scratches behind his ears.
“I missed you too,” she whispers.
Landon is sitting on the steps leading to the throne, his missing right arm bound in makeshift bandages. Despite his injuries, he is watching Rhianelle with a quiet smile. It is tired and pained and full of relief.
“How?” Garrett demands, looking between us. “You were dead. Both of you. There was no pulse, no breath, nothing. Bas checked. How are you here?”
“Death let us go,” Rhianelle says simply.
Garrett stares at her. “Death let you go?”
He looks at me as though I might offer a more reasonable explanation. I have none.
I find Rainer across the room. His skin has a grayish tint to it due to the poison. He’s dying.
“Uncle,” Rhianelle breathes, pulling away from them and stumbling toward him.
“I’m all right,” Rainer says calmly, but his voice is weak.
Bas crosses the room and lowers himself beside Rainer. He may know nothing of elven medicine, but he spent centuries learning how to treat humans. His hands are steady and his knowledge runs deep.
Rhianelle is crying now, kneeling beside her uncle. “You’re not going to die,” she vows fiercely. “Death told me so.”
Rainer looks at her with the patience he reserves only for her. “See?” he says quietly. “You have nothing to worry about. I’m just tired.”
Rhianelle sits back on her heels. She looks exhausted and hollowed out like the realm of the dead took something from her. But she lifts her head and looks around the room at all of them. Something in her expression firms.
“We need to help our people,” she says. Her voice is rough. “We must stop this war.”
No one argues.
The air in the throne room is heavy. The weight of everything we’ve lost, everything we’ve sacrificed, presses down on all of us.
Landon’s smile fades as he looks toward the broken palace doors and whatever waits beyond them.
“The last hope of stopping this war peacefully disappeared when the Fae King was thrown into another realm,” he says, resigned.
All eyes turn to look at the small figure still present in the corner of the room.
Blight.
The child-god is sitting on the floor, nursing her damaged leg. She looks up when everyone stares at her.
“What?” she says innocently.
“You sent the Fae King into another dimension. He was the only person who could have called off this invasion,” Garrett repeats.
“Well, yeah,” Blight says with a shrug. “But he would not have stopped anything. All he could think about was his mistress.”
The Un turns her strange, ancient eyes on Rhianelle. “Ask Fate if you think I’m lying. Besides, you all wanted him gone anyway. You’re welcome.”
“His son, Prince Finnbheara, will notice his presence has vanished and assume we killed his father,” Rainer says through gritted teeth.
“Finnbheara will retaliate,” Landon continues, and there’s something bleak in his voice. “It doesn’t matter that he hates his father. He’ll kill every elf he can find. The prince won’t stop until he’s avenged his father.”
Silence falls again.
“Aelfheim is lost,” Shade says, his head falling back against the wall.
No one argues because he’s right. Without the Fae King to call off the invasion, without any hope of negotiation, the elven kingdom is finished. I look at Rhianelle, expecting to see despair and the same defeat I see on everyone else’s faces.
But instead, she’s calm.
Rhianelle stands slowly, releasing her uncle’s hands. She wipes the tears from her face and straightens her shoulders.
“Can you get his attention?” she asks, looking at Landon. “Prince Finnbheara’s attention. I want to meet with him.”
The room goes completely still.
“What?” Landon says.
“I want to meet with Prince Finnbheara,” Rhianelle requests again. “Face to face. Can you arrange that?”
Landon stares at her like she’s lost her mind. “Rhianelle. He’ll kill you. The moment he sees you, he’ll—”
“Let me worry about that,” Rhianelle says softly. “Can you get him to meet with me, please?”
Landon looks helpless and lost. He turns to me, his eyes pleading.
Help me, his expression says. Talk sense into her. Make her see this is fucking suicide.
But I offer him no rescue. I trust Rhianelle. I remember the realm of the dead and the absolute determination in her eyes. When she has decided something, neither Death himself nor an entire army is going to change her mind.
I meet Landon’s eyes and say nothing. Whatever she’s planning, I’m with her.
Landon looks between us for a long moment.
His face falls as he lets out a sigh. A deep, defeated sound.
“I could probably get his attention and call him to parley. But there’s no reasoning with him now.
Not after his father vanished and with the blood already spilled. I don’t think he will listen.”
Rhianelle smiles. It’s small. “Thank you,” she says.
“Don’t thank me yet,” Landon mutters. “We’ll meet with Finn. When he tries to kill you, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
I close my eyes and reach for the power inside me. I wonder if they’re still with me.
My beasts.
Coinneach. Cyntefin. Fenrir. Wendy. All the others. They’re still here and still part of me.
We’re here for the girl.
Of course they are. I smile.
I open my hand, and shadows spill across the broken floor. They gather beneath Garrett, Shade, Bas, and Rainer, forming a dark circle around them.
“I can send you directly to the healing house in Volundr,” I tell Rainer. “The healers there will know how to draw out the poison.”
“No.” Rainer forces himself upright despite the gray pallor of his skin. “Take me to the war camp.”
Rhianelle turns on him. “Uncle, you need proper healers.”
“You may need me.” His voice is weak, but the refusal in it is not. “Send the others to the capital. But I’m going to the camp.”
Rhianelle stiffens. She looks at Rainer and doesn’t move toward the door.
“I’ll take care of him,” Bas says quietly. He lowers himself beside Rainer and places a steady hand against his shoulder. “Go. Do what you need to do.”
Shadows rise from the ground, wrapping gently around them. In seconds, they’re gone and transported across space.
It’s just us now. Me, Rhianelle, and Landon.
We move toward the exit of the throne room, or what’s left of it.
The Palace of Bones is barely standing. Cracks spiderweb across the walls and chunks of ceiling have fallen.
The floor is littered with debris from the remnants of our battle.
Landon leads the way, moving stiffly. Each step clearly costs him, but he doesn’t complain or slow down.
“You don’t understand, Rhianelle. Finnbheara isn’t like his father,” Landon says again as we walk.
“Isn’t that a good thing?” she asks.
“He doesn’t play political games and he doesn’t negotiate.” Landon’s jaw tightens. “When he’s angry, and he will be angry, he’s a force of nature.”
“I understand,” Rhianelle says calmly.
Landon stops and turns to face her. “I’ve known Finn for centuries. Fought beside him and bled with him. I’ve never seen him show mercy to someone he considers an enemy.”
“I need to at least try, Landon,” she says simply. “For my people. For his people. For everyone dying in that field.”
“Rhianelle, please listen to me. I’m trying to save your life,” Landon insists. “Finnbheara will not show mercy, not when his honor is on the line. If you meet with him, you die.”
He turns to me then. “You just got her back. Are you really going to let her throw her life away now?”
“No,” I say quietly. “But I trust her.”
Rhianelle looks at me and a small smile touches her lips. It is tired and fleeting, but the warmth in it reaches her eyes.
Landon stares at both of us like we’re insane. He closes his eyes and takes a long, shuddering breath. When he opens them again, he looks... defeated. Resigned. “Fine. Let’s go meet your death together, then.”
We continue walking.
The palace doors are massive. Or they were. Now one hangs off its hinges, and the other is missing entirely. We step through into the cold night air.
The sky is dark with smoke and ash blocking out everything. Landon walks a few paces ahead and puts two fingers to his lips. The whistle that comes out is sharp, piercing.
For a moment, nothing happens.
Then the sky darkens further. Something massive blocks out even the smoke. Wings. Enormous wings.
Dorcha.
Landon’s wyvern descends from the darkness with dark emerald scales and eyes that glow like coals. She lands with a thud that shakes the ground. Her head swivels to Landon, and she makes a low, rumbling sound. It almost sounds like a purr.
“Hey, girl,” Landon says softly, reaching up with his remaining hand to touch her snout. “I know. I’m happy to see you too. But I need one more thing from you. Can you do that for me?”
Dorcha huffs. Steam curls from her nostrils.
“She can carry us all,” Landon says.
“I’m good,” I say.
Landon turns to Rhianelle. “You’ll ride with me.”
She nods and approaches the wyvern without fear. I’m impressed as she reaches out and lets the wyvern sniff her hand. Dorcha’s eyes narrow. Then she huffs again.
Landon climbs onto Dorcha’s back with difficulty.
Missing an arm makes everything harder. Rhianelle follows, settling in front of him.
I watch them for a moment. My wife pressed against another male.
Her former mate. The bond is broken now, but they still look right together.
It’s natural. A strange feeling rumbles in my chest. It’s not jealousy, not quite.
An awareness. Landon loves her.
He would have been good for her. They might have been happy if I hadn’t barged into her life.
Fuck it.
She chose me.
I reach into the darkness bound to my soul. Give me something impressive.
One of the Fallen answers from the depths of Hel, its amusement curling through me like smoke.
Gladly.
Shadow erupts from my back. Two vast wings unfurl from my shoulder blades, their membranes shifting and reforming. I spread them until they blot out the ruined palace behind me. They move as naturally as if they have always belonged on my back.
Landon’s eyebrows rise for the briefest moment before his expression smooths. “Ready?” he asks.
“Ready,” Rhianelle confirms.
Dorcha launches into the air with a powerful thrust of her legs. Her wings spread wide, catching the wind, and she soars upward into the smoke-filled sky.
I follow.
My shadow wings beat once, twice, and I’m airborne. Freedom surges through me with the power of the Fallen. The wind tears at my face, but I keep my eyes on Rhianelle.
She sits straight-backed before Landon, silver hair streaming behind her. I can see the exhaustion in the set of her shoulders, but not defeat.
Her kingdom is burning. Lilith nearly destroyed her. The realm of the dead almost kept her.
Still, Rhianelle flies toward the next impossible thing.
Toward a prince who may kill her before she speaks a single word.
Let them come.
Every prince, every army, every ancient thing that crawls from the shadows to challenge Rhianelle. I will be there with her until the very end.