Chapter 20
Nate
Idrifted off near-instantly once Tristan’s strong, fragrant arms locked around me.
He still smells so good, like a soothing herb infusion drank by a warm fire, and I chastise myself for enjoying his presence.
But can’t I be the selfish one for a change after all the suffering I’ve been through because of Tristan’s poor judgment?
I still can’t eat normal meals, but the medic approves a small portion of savory porridge, which warms me from the inside.
Winter has started in the Nightmare Realm, and while I was too exhausted to marvel at it on the way to the tavern, I’ve gotten enough rest to stay awake as we ride out, following a paved path winding through a narrow valley crested with sharp, snowy ridges.
It’s painfully cold, and my breath turns into vapor the moment we leave the inn, but Tristan has ensured I’m clad in a fur-lined outfit, and two cloaks, one of which is made of what looks like wolf pelts.
The animal lover in me feels terrible about the majestic creatures until Tristan explains that the very predators whose skins I’m wearing mauled two children to death and were killed in the aftermath.
I’m still sad, because the animals were only following their nature, but I have no mental capacity to ponder or discuss ethics.
What matters is that I’m warm, and as comfortable as I can possibly be during a long ride on the back of a huge magical horse, so I let myself sink into Tristan’s chest and admire the rugged landscape around us.
I’ve been in the Nightmare Realm for two months, yet I’ve barely seen any of it.
The time before Gloombane’s tower feels like a blur.
We’re protected from the wind, but I see it worrying the snow on tall ridges reminiscent of dragon teeth. Spiraling through the air, the loose flakes shimmer, reflecting the moonlight seeping through the dense ceiling of clouds.
Back when I first arrived in this realm, the land was still green, but now the trees crowding either side of the road are as gaunt as myself—with arthritic limbs draped in blankets of snow and trims of ice.
Maybe someone else would see the beauty in the gothic nature of it, but to me their pale bark is reminiscent of bone, each twig like the finger of a hag.
We pass travellers, children selling tea from the garden of their home, villages, and even one caravan of goods from someplace called Trymet.
We pass a narrow river shackled by ice chiming at regular intervals, and even an old statue whose face has long crumbled off.
Tristan doesn’t know whom it depicts, likely some local heroine who’s been forgotten and is no longer an object of reverence.
My knight is taking me farther from the only passage to the human realm I know, but that was my wish, so I let myself observe the realities of my temporary home.
There’s a terrible grandeur to the world around me, a wilderness full of animals with sharp teeth and elves with even sharper knives, but nobody dares stand in Tristan’s way.
In the long hour before the moon sinks beyond the horizon, the wilderness seems suspended in its most primal state, but even then I know there’s nothing to fear.
Once it’s completely dark, we travel with lanterns attached to the front of the kelpie.
While Tristan has his arm around me at all times, I can tell he remains alert.
I am so easily startled after my ordeal, and whenever I flinch, scared by noises coming from the dense, leafless bushes, he tightens his grip on me, soothing the anxiety crawling under my skin.
In the past weeks, I was conditioned to worry about every sound in the dark, since it could always be a prelude to torment.
I wish I didn’t depend on Tristan the way I do right now, but I can’t escape reality.
I’ve never been as skinny, and being so small in an oppressive world isn’t helping my confidence.
If something attacked us, I couldn’t even run away.
Tristan is all that stands between me and death—that’s no exaggeration. He doesn’t need to know how much I depend on him, how many times I dreamed of him saving me from Gloombane’s clutches.
The light doesn’t reach very far, so when a man in heavy black armor emerges in the middle of our path, I stiffen in sudden terror.
But Tristan’s calm as ever. As the kelpie slows, I notice a tall metal gate.
I’m glad to be tucked into the furs so that only the upper half of my face remains visible. I don’t want to be noticed.
“It’s me, Théo,” Tristan says. “Don’t alert anyone. It’s late, I can handle Stone at the stables myself.”
“Ser Tristan,” the man says and walks off after a curt bow.
Soon enough, the gate stands open, and Tristan nudges Stone into a slow gait.
I blink and strain my eyes, only now realizing there’s a greenish softness to the darkness, almost as if there are fireflies floating ahead, but my eyes, weak even for a human, can’t spot anything beyond that.
“Are we… there?”
“Yes. I thought you were sleeping. We’ve arrived at the castle,” he says and soon enough, the kelpie’s hooves hit smooth cobblestones.
“We need to go see the Lord before we get you settled. I’m sorry, but it can’t wait if you are to rest. And…
Nate, it will be better to not tell him much about your plan to break our bond.
He is very much smitten with his Dark Companion and married to him, so he will not appreciate any ideas about such things. ”
I don’t want to see anyone. Just rest. On my own. But I suppose there’s nothing I can do to avoid the questioning to come. “You want me to lie?”
“Just don’t mention your plans. I assure you, there is no place more equipped in resources to find the unicorn. My sister is in charge of the grandest library you’ve ever seen, and we have connections with many knowledgeable elves. The Lord doesn’t need to know what we’re really looking for.”
I instantly suspect trickery, but arguing isn’t going to help with my situation.
We arrive at a courtyard where the green torches let me see a bit more clearly.
Going by the smell of hay and horses alone, I’m assuming we’re by the stables.
The walls around us are high and sturdy, but the building ahead appears more refined.
I can still hardly see all of the castle, as it shoots so far up into the dark sky my poor vision blurs the highest of its towers.
I’ll either exert my will here, find a unicorn, and prove that even with my shadow so worthless, I can do what no elf has, or this monstrous place will swallow me whole and spit out my bones.
I’m now so light he takes me off Stone’s back with the ease I would pick up a cat, but while standing on my own is a struggle, Tristan offers me his arm for support.
It’s so muscular, so steady I have to hold in a sob of frustration, because of course I need his help.
If it wasn’t for him, Gloombane would have likely tortured me to death.
But without Tristan he also would have never gotten his hands on me in the first place, so maybe my gratitude is misplaced?
All those fantasies I had about chivalrous knights? Now they’re stained with the reality of what I’ve been through.
When a figure in a thick hooded coat and leather pants emerges out of the darkness with a green torch, I flinch so abruptly Tristan has to catch me.
“It’s okay, that’s just Kurt,” he says soothingly. And what kind of elf name is ‘Kurt’ anyway? Tristan then turns to the man. “I assumed you’d be asleep, but since you’re not…”
Kurt snorts. “You did wake me up, but it’s okay, I’ll take care of Stone.” He grabs the kelpie’s head between two gloved hands and coos something in a hushed voice.
Tristan covers me with his cloak, and we walk off. I stall and look back at Kurt. He has to be a stableboy, but then I replay the ‘okay’ in my head, and—
“Is he human? You only told me about Dark Companions at court.”
“Ah, yes, but that’s just Kurt.”
I don’t have energy left to question that.
We follow a path paved with an exquisite mosaic depicting giant sea monsters attacking ships.
I wish I had my glasses, so I could appreciate the work of art under my feet more completely, but the green lantern in Tristan’s hand only reveals so much anyway.
I can now see the outline of the castle.
It’s too dark to spot any details, but it’s made up of a multitude of towers so tall they appear to claw at the sky.
When two men in identical uniforms approach us with lanterns, I sink into Tristan, but he acknowledges them with a nod and walks me farther down the path.
Despite the pain meds, limping becomes too hard, and I have to eventually admit that to Tristan.
His arm is broken, yet he makes no complaints about carrying me.
A bright glow looms ahead, and my heart stops when a huge carriage with fine detailing reminiscent of embroidery stops within its boundary.
A woman emerges onto a set of stairs prepared for her, and I stall, because this fine lady will want to know who I am.
She will have questions and laugh at my shadow—
But instead of walking on ahead, Tristan takes me down a flight of steps, into a snow-covered garden.
Evergreens peek out from the darkness as we pass, trimmed neatly yet still reaching for me with their fingers.
Before I can grow uncertain again, there’s a small door, and Tristan carries me out of the cold.
The hallway we’re in appears informal, with simple pictures hung on dark red walls, and I’m glad to see it empty, but soon the only way we can go is up.
The spiral staircase is narrow, choking, and anxiety rises inside me like a cold wave.
I close my eyes. This way, all I can sense is the warmth of Tristan’s body, and the soft scent clinging to him even after the long journey.
Holding on to his shoulders feels like floating inside a boat, so it comes as a shock when he stops, easing me back to the floor.
But I don’t want to need him and step back as soon as I realize we’ve reached the top of the stairs.
The moment we step through the passage, I know we’ve entered a hallway meant for nobles.
It stretches to either side of us, ornamental columns and arches forming the ribs of its cavernous length.
The green lanterns hang densely enough to reveal chandeliers of black crystal and tapestries depicting grand battles against a giant sea monster that seems to be made out of…
bodies? I have to look away from the arms and legs sticking out of it, because I have no stomach for gore.
I’m immediately reminded of Gloombane’s bloodied face without eyes and the knife I held above him.
I look up at the vaulted ceiling instead, where I spot the twisted faces of gargoyles carved in reddish wood. Their silhouettes emerge from the shadows above, brought to life by the shimmer of green flames. Their gemstone eyes follow our footsteps.
This is no Rivendell. This is Dracula’s castle in all its gothic opulence.
We pass two more entryways, one with a sleepy guard who rings what looks like a bell but makes no sound.
The second guard we reach is much more alert.
He’s not too happy about Tristan’s visit, but since he’s dealing with a prince, he wastes no time letting us pass and tells us to wait in the Lord’s drawing room.
Somewhere distant, a door closes with a muted thud, but when I stiffen, instinctively wanting to flee, Tristan squeezes my arm with a soft shush.
“We’re almost there,” he says, guiding me toward an open doorway. It’s so very dark on the other side, like the dungeon was whenever Gloombane left me on my own, dripping blood to agitate the meatworms he threatened to feed me to once I’d outlived my usefulness to him.
The tavern was quite cozy. Safe. Full of life and people who held no power over my protector, but what if the master of this castle has different ideas for my future and chooses to enforce them? Should I have ran when I had the chance, even if it meant never fully being my own man again?
An icy hold grows ever stronger around my heart, and I only enter the drawing room because Tristan nudges me forward, into the dark.
I can’t breathe.
My chest feels so tight my lungs are constricting, and I’m once more drowning in the salty seawater. Before I can fall to my knees, Tristan catches me and then he’s down on the floor with me. Stroking my shoulders, whispering something I can’t hear through the thudding in my ears.
Our eyes meet as I wheeze, and he’s taking deep, long breaths. In through his nose, out through his mouth. It feels like it’s taking forever, but I manage to tune into his rhythm and breathe again.
I finally hear Tristan. “You’re safe. There’s nothing to fear here. The Lord is just an elf, and as soon as we—”
“Just an elf, am I?” a smooth baritone comes from behind me, sending chills down my spine.