4. Chapter 3 Rhianelle
Chapter 3 Rhianelle
I fake a laugh and try to maintain a casual conversation with the dark-haired male in front of me.
“It was all your fault.”
Haldan said that to me after Aerin’s death.
It shouldn’t hurt anymore, but it does. I know he was sad and bereaved after my sister’s passing, but no one has ever made me feel as small as he did. “It should have been you.” I shake my head to dispel the horrible thoughts.
Grief does weird things to people.
Haldan nods respectfully to me before saying his farewell. I release a breath I didn’t realize I was holding the moment he left. I suspect his urgent departure has something to do with my approaching knight.
A muscle in Aelfric’s jaw twitches. “Was he bothering you?”
I have never seen such fury on his face. Not even for my vampire husband.
“Let it go, Aelfric. He’s leaving for the capital,” I say to calm him down.
He keeps his gaze trained on Haldan’s back until he disappears, then casts a brief glance to the rooftop. I decide this is the best time to tell Aelfric about my plan. “I want to join Lord Wesley’s search for the murderer.”
The knight bristles over my request. “Rhianelle, we both know you can’t do that.”
I need to do something. There’s too many innocent lives lost. I just know that they’re going to pin it in on Svenn eventually.
“I feel terrible. The murders started right after our arrival in town.” I try not to sound too nervous and broken.
But Aelfric notices the crack in my voice anyway.
“It’s not just us. Plenty of others have arrived here since. The emissaries, the war generals, the Aldarelfs, the Valorians,” he recounts, his tone dry.
No matter how much Aelfric claims to hate Svenn, he doesn’t jump to the conclusion that the vampire is the murderer. He is always fair and logical.
My eyes fall to the hunting gear in his hand.
“I’ve offered Lord Wesley my help with the search. We’ll catch the murderer soon,” he promises. “Rest easy, Rhianelle.”
I take his hand and offer the gods a small prayer for his safety. “Be careful, Aelfric.”
A faint smile graces his mouth. It’s rare on Aelfric, so I’ll take it. “Wait for Darstan to accompany you back to your room,” he says before he leaves.
I could have just gone to my room myself. But I don’t want my knights to worry about my safety. They’re already on edge since I decided to share my room with Svenn. Having their company everywhere I go is a small compromise.
I linger at the cloister as instructed when I hear murmurs and several gasps of surprise from the throngs of nobles. Their attentions are fixed upon the arrival of a tall, slender lady with smooth pale skin and black hair that hangs loose behind her back.
I brighten immediately at the sight of Siofra.
The lady walks towards me gracefully, each of her movement assured and steady. She wears a modest, long-sleeve dress that is favored by the older priestesses of Arawynn temple. Whispers from the crowd follow her footsteps, but her beauty is not the main reason for the commotion.
“Mommy, that lady looks like my old doll that got chewed by a stray dog!” an innocent child exclaims before her mother shushes her.
A horrific jagged scar runs across Siofra’s face, paired with another linear one on her neck. I know she has multiple others all across her body underneath the brown dress.
She bows, the movement effortlessly graceful.
“Your Highness,” she signs with her hand.
It is said that her vocal cords were so severely damaged that she could no longer speak. Some say her tongue was cut entirely. I never asked deeper about what happened to her.
She was once the Lady of Celestria before it was conquered by Myrkheim. Her scars are the testament of the orc’s cruelty, the Aeonians had announced. Few know the truth that she sustained the injuries prior to her capture. Her late ex-husband, the Lord of Celestria, had a terrible temper.
“Congratulation on your wedding, Your Highness,” she signs with a bright smile. Her compliment feels genuine, unlike the ones the Aeonians and the members of the council had thrown at me.
“Thank you. Lady Siof—I mean Siofra.” She told me to stop calling her with honorifics and I don’t dare to dishonor the request.
“Come with me.” She takes me by the hand.
I follow her without question. I’m sure she has visited Wesley’s keep multiple times in the past. Windhaven is one of Celestria’s nearest neighbors. I just feel bad for asking her to return to this region after everything. The lady brings me to a private area away from scrutinizing eyes.
Before I can ask her about her journey, she reveals the book in her satchel.
The Book of Bindings.
This giant tome is taken from the Arawynn temple at the capital.
“I’m sorry for making such a sudden request,” I say, carefully taking from her hand.
“No worries. I’m happy for the chance to visit my husband—”
The fair lady didn’t get to finish her word when a shadow casts upon us.
Darstan lets out a dark chuckle over the startled look on our faces. Lady Siofra is way taller than me but even she is dwarfed by the mountain of a knight.
“Oh dear, you surprised me.” She touches her chest and greets him with a kiss to his jaw. He wraps her in his arms like he never wants to let go.
I am overcome with emotion as I watch them. Their love is the kind that makes even the sun and moon envious. Darstan and Siofra are not just bound by the elven marriage bond bestowed by the Goddess Arawynn. They’re mates.
It doesn’t happen that often with us Elves. We’re creatures of logic, not instinct.
“Forgive me for the wait, Your Highness,” Darstan apologizes. “I’ll escort you to your tower right away.”
He flashes his wife an endearing farewell grin. I accidentally catch the way they are looking at each other. The passion and longing in that gaze is almost palpable. A language only they speak.
Suddenly, it doesn’t feel right separating them because of some stupid protocol. The council meeting is over and I have no other formal visits for the day.
“You should go with Siofra. I can go back on my own,” I say to the knight.
A line appears between Lady Siofra’s delicate brows.
“I heard about the murders,” she signs aggressively before her husband can give me a reply.
“All the more reason he should be accompanying you to the townhouse,” I say calmly. “I’ll be safe. I won’t leave Lord Wesley’s compound.”
It is easier to persuade Darstan, but Lady Siofra needs a little more convincing. She finally releases a defeated sigh and relents to my wish. I wait until the two lovebirds are out of sight before making my way to the small wood behind the keep.
In V?lundr or the Capital, Lord Wesley’s beautiful home would not have measured up as a castle. It lacks the artistic quality and the precious gemstones the Aldarelfs loved to display on their walls.
A gentle breeze whispers across my face, fluttering my hair. I run my hand over my temple where Svenn had touched me this morning. It was a small gesture from him but I’ve thought about it all day. He had been so cold before, but his hatred seems to have thawed from the moment we arrived here.
“That night was a mistake. You’re the Rhunhraefn’s vessel. I will never touch you.”
I am a curse bearer. The fact is as bitter as Lady Deirdre’s potion, but I still need to swallow it. I need to keep my distance so my heart won’t get shredded anymore than it already has been. I don’t want to feel that shattering in my chest when he rejects me again.
I steer my mind away from thoughts of him as I settle on the grass and open the giant tome in my lap. I take my time to read every single line regarding the binding of Arawynn.
Kill the Fae King.
Make me human.
Those are the terms of the agreement that bind Svenn and me through the Elven Marriage Bond. It should have been easy and simple enough. But another mysterious connection binds us. I need to find out what it is.
If the bond has anything to do with Goddess Arawynn then it should be here in this book. But there is no mention of it so far. I flip through the pages faster, frustrations building behind my eyes. Yet the Book of Bindings yields me no answer.
All the names of those who made the Arawynn contracts are listed in this magical, ancient tome. I watch as the names of the completed contracts shed themselves from the pages and new ones are constantly added. I can’t resist the urge to look at Svenn’s and mine.
My eyes find his name almost immediately, written in some archaic human language. A smile hooks the corner of my lips as I run my fingers on the letterings. I wonder what his real name would sound like.
Shock takes hold of me as I stare at the names several lines above ours.
Blaire Blackbriar along with Vayne Aeldrath Malgorth, the third Prince of Myrkheim.
Heavens above…
She made a contract.
Hot tears slide down my cheeks. My heart lurches in complete disbelieve at the words before my eyes.
Her name is here…
I send a prayer of gratitude to the gods. For the letter from Blaire and for this… book. An actual confirmation that she is alive.
Trust me, Rhianelle. I have a plan.
And she always does…
When I was abandoned and alone in Astefar, she was there for me.
I miss the gleam of mischief in her eyes, her string of curses when she’s mad. My mind swirls to the moment I first met her in the forbidden forest.
I was so hungry. The starvation was enough to lure me to one of the temples of Arawynn near the forest. Dozens of poor children had lined up for their rations at the monastery.
My eyes had fallen immediately on the girl with dirty blonde hair clad in a light brown rag. Her face was smudged with dirt but she has a fishtail braid just like my sister. I instantly wanted to be her friend. But I was hungry. Survival came first. The girl left her ration carelessly near the shrubs.
So I stole her bread.
If I kept running, I might just make it. I knew if I entered the woods the girl would not follow me. No one would dare venture on the outskirts of Astefar, let alone the dark forest itself.
I dared a glance over my shoulder. The girl was still chasing me like a mad hound.
My legs failed me and I fell down to the ground. The girl beat me over and over. All I could do was cover my head. I didn’t cry. I knew that stealing is wrong.
It was only when she started leaving with the bread that the tears begun falling from my eyes. The girl stopped halfway. She placed half of her loaf on the boulder before leaving.
Blaire was skinny and malnourished herself. But she continued giving me half her ration every day until the temple lost its benefactor.
I miss her.
I lost a sister once, I’m not going to lose another one.
Trust me, Rhianelle. I have a plan.
Yes, I trust her. I wipe the fresh tears streaming down my cheeks to walk back to my room as promised.
The thought of seeing Svenn again evokes a strange sensation in my chest. We barely had a meaningful conversation this past week, but it still feels nice to have someone to return to.
I take a shorter path to the courtyard through Lord Wesley’s orchard. There is something about the air that makes me shudder despite the thick wool. My instinct sharpens to the presence behind the trees.
I know the lord promised his compound to be safe, but you can never be too careful. I sneak silently and hide behind the bushes.
Air stalls in my lungs the moment I see the figure sitting on the boulder, basking underneath the sun. Svenn is more beautiful than any words can describe.
I study every inch of his striking features as he settles there as still as a marbled statue, his face solemn and captivating. He is every forbidden fantasy come to life, an enchanting masterpiece.
Nightwalkers turn to ashes in daylight, but Svenn is a Strigon, the True Sire of all vampire kind.
He looks more devastating than usual, clad in the dark suit Lady Deirdre tailored for him. It fit his chiseled features perfectly.
I touch my chest. Calm down, heart.
I’m not stalking him or anything. I’m trying to see if he’s responsible for the killings. Ninety-eight dead bodies are no small number. I know it in my heart that it’s not him, but I still need to prove it to the others.
I chew my lower lip as I watch him.
Specks of light baste him from the thinning clouds. He raises his hand to the sky like he’s trying to reach for the sun. There’s a deep longing in his eyes, a yearning for something he can never have. Seeing this vulnerable side of him stirs a deep emotion in my heart, a place he shouldn’t have access to.
That night was a mistake. I will never touch you that way ever again.
Svenn has made it perfectly clear that I am a stain in his life. I remember the malice and contempt in his face when he sees the Rhunhraefn etched on my skin.
He even tried to kill me.
It’s funny that I’m more hurt because he rejected me instead of that. I really need to have my priorities in order.
“Do you really hate me that much?” I mutter quietly.
Svenn’s head snaps in my direction.
My gaze collides with his and a guttural sound rises from his throat. His face contorts into something sharp, violent. A mountain lion humiliated at the fact a deer is stalking him.
I know then I had made a grave mistake.
I back away slowly.
“Come out, little fawn.”
I suppress a shudder at the command in his voice.
The wolf is going to tear me to pieces. Maybe he’ll just swallow me whole.
But his unsettling russet eyes are saying something else. They’re telling me, almost begging me,
Do not run.
I sprint as fast as I can toward the trees.