Chapter 35 Rhianelle #5
Landon nearly drops his bread, and a faint blush rises across his face.
The spiderling taps one sharp leg against his metal arm. “Then I’ll eat you to the last crumb.”
“That is considerably less flattering,” he says.
Two more spiderlings crawl through the open window and begin exploring Svenn’s workshop. One scampers across the workbench with a small wrench clutched between its fangs while the other disappears beneath a cabinet.
A shadow sweeps across the cottage. Dorcha lands outside with enough force to rattle the cups on the table. Coral bounds after Dorcha, chirping as she tries to catch the larger wyvern’s tail.
The tiny fae scatter instantly. Jessica’s spiderlings race toward the forest, their stolen bread and tools clutched tightly in their mouths. Coral charges after them, vanishing between the trees in a blur of pale scales and flapping wings.
“Coral!” I call.
Her cheerful chirp echoes back through the forest.
Landon finishes his tea and rises. “I should leave before the spider returns with a marriage contract.”
“Thank you for visiting,” I say, rising to kiss his cheek.
Landon inclines his head toward Svenn. “Send word when the braces are ready.”
Svenn nods.
The herald looks at me again. “I’ll return in a few weeks.”
“You know where to find us.” I squeeze his hand before letting him go.
Landon gives me one last smile, then gathers his things and heads outside. Dorcha lowers herself while he secures his travel pack.
He pauses beside Coral when she returns covered in leaves and cobwebs. Landon pats the side of her neck. “Farewell, little menace.”
Coral nudges his metal arm and chirps.
Dorcha carries him into the sky a few moments later. I watch until they disappear beyond the trees.
When I return to the kitchen, Svenn is studying my recipe. His eyes move from the list of ingredients to the empty plate.
“Perhaps your recipes are meant for fae and their creatures,” he muses. “Landon liked it. So did the forest folk.”
Coral races past the window again with two spiderlings chasing her this time. Their delighted shrieks fade into the forest, leaving the cottage unusually quiet.
Svenn and I are finally alone.
We carry our tea outside and sit beneath the old tree beside the cottage. The setting sun spills gold across Astefar, catching on the leaves and turning the distant hills amber.
“A bakery in Avalon,” I murmur. “Imagine it.”
A smile tugs the corner of Svenn’s lips. “I already built you a second oven.”
I look at him. “What? You did?”
“It is in the storage shed.”
Delight bubbles through me. I picture a little shop in Avalon with bright windows and warm shelves. Customers waiting outside. People carrying my bread through the streets.
“There could be a queue,” I say giddily. “A very long one.”
“Perhaps we might finally earn money. Not that you need it,” he says. “But you will be popular.”
I sit straighter. “I will be the most famous patissière in the entire continent.”
His expression changes. “Perhaps not too famous.”
“Why not?”
“I do not enjoy sharing you.”
His shadow curls around my waist before I can answer, drawing me across the grass and into his lap. I laugh as my hands catch against his shoulders.
He kisses me beneath the darkening sky, slow and possessive. The forest glows around us while the cottage windows shine with warm light behind us.
For once, there is no war waiting beyond the horizon. No crown on my head. No kingdom demanding my time. There is only Svenn, our cottage, and the life we chose together.
He rises with me in his arms and carries me inside as the sun disappears beyond Astefar.
I wake screaming.
Again.
The nightmare fades slowly. Fire and blood blur together behind my eyes. Bodies cover the battlefield while Siofra and Darstan fall among them. Everywhere I look, someone else is dying.
“Shh,” Svenn murmurs as his arms close around me. “You’re safe. It’s just a dream. You’re safe.”
I can’t stop shaking or crying.
“I saw them,” I gasp. “I saw them dying. All of them. Everyone we lost.”
“I know,” Svenn murmurs, holding me tighter. “I know, sweetheart.”
I press my face against his chest and listen to the steady beat of his heart, using it to pull myself back into the present. I try to remember where I am and how much time has passed.
The war is over. We won. We’re safe.
But the ghosts still visit. In my dreams and in the quiet moments when I’m not distracted enough to keep them out.
Lady Siofra and Darstan return most often. Then Lenna, my handmaiden and my friend, who was too young and too kind to die. Alys and Lord Wesley too. Rainer follows them, holding on through impossible pain from the Nevrin poison.
They are all gone, yet I am still here.
“They’d want you to move forward,” Svenn says softly, reading my thoughts like he always does. “They’d want you to live and be happy.”
“I know,” I whisper.
I know they would. Most days I’m all right and I can function. I can even be happy sometimes. But some days the grief is so heavy I can’t breathe. It feels like it’s sitting on my chest, crushing me. I don’t know how to carry it. How to keep going when it hurts this much.
“You’re not alone,” Svenn says. “I’m here. Coral too.”
As if summoned, Coral’s giant head appears over the edge of the bed. Her pale snout nudges my arm, gentle and concerned. She makes a soft chirp that sounds like a question.
Are you all right?
I reach out, touch her scales, and feel the love.
“I’m all right,” I tell her. “It’s just a bad dream.”
Coral chirps again, then climbs onto the bed.
Svenn built it wide and sturdy for reasons that have nothing to do with accommodating an overgrown wyvern, but Coral has claimed her share of it regardless.
It serves both purposes remarkably well.
The wyvern has gotten too big for this, really, but she does it anyway.
She drapes herself across both of us. A living blanket of scales and warmth.
We stay like that. The three of us. In the dark and in the quiet, breathing together. Slowly, so slowly, the grief loosens its grip and becomes bearable again.
“Thank you,” I whisper to both of them. “For being here. For everything.”
“Always,” Svenn says.
Coral just purrs.
Eventually, exhaustion pulls me back to sleep. When I wake again, soft morning light filters through the cottage windows and the last traces of the nightmare have faded.
I slip out of bed, wash my face, and begin the morning bread while Svenn works nearby. By the time the dough is in the oven, the cottage feels safe and familiar again.
Bread bakes in one of my two ovens while Coral snores in the corner, one wing covering her face.
Everything around me is ordinary and peaceful.
Home.
Svenn is at his workbench, sketching designs for more wing braces. I’m kneading dough and humming to myself. I look out the window at Astefar’s border. The twisted trees are slowly straightening as the curse dissipates. They’re healing.
“I was thinking,” I say.
“Dangerous,” Svenn replies without looking up.
I throw a bit of flour at him. It catches in his dark hair, and he looks up with a grin.
“I was thinking when things are more settled here, we should travel,” I say, pressing my palms into the dough.
“Travel where?” Svenn asks, setting down his quill.
“Everywhere,” I say, excitement already beginning to build inside me.
“Anywhere. I want to see the world, Svenn. I want to see places I’ve only read about, meet people, experience things.
I spent so long trapped, first in Astefar, then as the queen.
Now I’m finally free and I want to see everything. ”
“Yes. Absolutely.” Svenn smiles. “Where do you want to go first?”
“Kahedin mentioned a journey to the open sea,” I say. “He’s planning to sail beyond the known waters and find other continents, perhaps even the lands the elves and dwarves first came from. He asked if we’d like to join him.”
“When do we leave?” Svenn asks without hesitation.
I smile at his eagerness. “Not for a while. The cottage still needs work, and the creatures of Astefar need time to adjust to their freedom. Jessica’s spiderlings are still vulnerable.”
I look out the window toward the healing forest.
“But someday,” I add. “Soon, we’ll go.”
“We’ll go,” Svenn echoes. “Together.”
He rises from his workbench and crosses the kitchen. He takes the dough from my flour-covered hands and sets it aside before pulling me against him.
We stand there in our little cottage on the border of a cursed forest.
“Do you ever regret it?” I ask suddenly. “Giving up immortality? Tying your life to mine?”
One of Svenn’s eyebrows rises.
“You could have lived forever. Instead you’re stuck here with me and my terrible bread.” I attempt a smile, but the question feels too real to laugh away.
“I chose you. Over immortality. Over everything. I’d make that choice again every time. In every life, in every world, I’d choose you.”
He leans down and kisses me. His lips are soft and sweet against mine, carrying all the certainty of his answer. It’s perfect.
A horrible gagging noise comes from behind us.
We pull apart to find Coral crouched near the door, gagging dramatically on a mouthful of grass she should never have eaten.
“Come on, both of you,” I say, turning toward the oven. “I have another recipe to try.”
We move through the cottage. Svenn returns to his workbench, I go to my oven, and Coral stretches, yawns, and eventually follows me to beg for scraps.
The sun rises higher and the day begins. I think about the future, about travel, adventure, and all the things we’ll see and experience. But mostly I think about this moment together.
We have a whole life to live.
It’s not a perfect life. The nightmares still come and the grief still hits. My bread is still terrible. But it is ours. We chose it, fought for it, and earned every imperfect moment.
That is everything.
I’m happy.