10. Chapter 9 Rhianelle
Chapter 9 Rhianelle
I open my eyes to the soft morning light streaming through the windowpane and Svenn’s beautiful face. His fingers are still tangled in my hair, covering my ears.
Last night was not a dream.
I never meant to fall asleep caged between his thigh with my head in his lap. But it’s so comfortable and safe here. Rousing myself from the position and detangling my hair from his fingers is quite a challenge. I ease myself from him eventually.
I take the moment to admire my husband. His body is slacked and relaxed from sleep. A diary from a famous vampire hunter once wrote that vampires are most vulnerable in this state. People would take the opportunity to stake and burn them during the dawn when they were at their weakest.
Everything about Svenn feels raw and ethereal. I don’t know how he remains devastatingly beautiful and lethal even when he’s sleeping.
I wave my hand to check if he’s awake.
There’s just something about watching this wild, powerful man so peaceful in his slumber. I trace the column of his throat to his jaw and plant my lips right above his pulse.
Guilt gathers in my heart for what I just did. Taking advantage of a man while he’s asleep. I have dropped into a new low.
But this is our first night in the same bed together since the wedding. I can’t believe he stayed with me all night.
Warmth starts to seep into my heart and my bones. I touch my chest to calm the humming I feel there.
I’m scared.
This gentle side of him… I’m starting to like this too much.
Walls of bricks, not of straw.
I place the blanket over his chest to keep him comfortable and slip out of bed.
Quietly, I dress up and put on the heavy gray cloak Lenna left for me yesterday. I take one last look at Svenn’s sleeping form before leaving the room.
I evade Wesley’s guard and my knight easily, rushing straight towards one of the Wiolant’s safe houses where Rainer is staying.
The mansion is even more grand than the lord of the city’s keep, with a well-kept garden and a beautiful fountain in the courtyard. It’s quiet, other than the soft chirping of birds and croaking of pond frogs.
There is no sentry at the gates.
I sneak inside without fuss. A flurry of shivers goes through me the moment I see a shadowed figure on one of the tree branches.
It’s not moving…
I dare a step closer and recognize the demonic mask.
“Shade, come down,” I plead desperately. “I need to tell you something.”
The grey-haired male lands directly beside me, startling me a little. “What is it?”
He is dressed in his dark Grimbane’s long sleeve coat over a dark weatherworn jerkin. His gray hair is disheveled as if he’d been sleeping.
I pour my heart out and tell him everything that had happened yesterday, the gnome, the boar, Svenn’s intention. Shade listens to my story without interruption.
The assassin maintains his calm and detached demeanor despite my revelation. I wonder if he missed the part where I said Carver’s life is in danger.
“So, you see, my husband is going to kill your friend,” I repeat for clarity, emphasizing by my hand with a stabbing sign.
Shade shrugs. “Carver is not a friend.”
His lack of interest scares me. “Please do something. Hide him or send him away. I’m not playing around.”
Shade’s expression remains unreadable. “Perhaps it’s for the best. The guy is a dead elf anyway.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“Carver didn’t return from his hunt last night,” he says simply.
My heart stammers. Did Svenn somehow slip into the night?
“The bastard didn’t report to the Creed. He broke our caste’s oldest oath. Now the guild will send the wolves for him,” Shade says without feeling.
“Wolves?” A shudder grips my spine.
“One wolf. But I think he’s efficient enough.” Shade yawns lazily.” I’m tired of picking up after his fuck ups. I know he’s been stealing stuff from the Silverra’s house.”
My heart crumbles a little. I came running with the thought of saving a life.
“But maybe he’s made a run for it,” Shade suddenly says. I suspect he just adds that to comfort me.
Well, now that I’m here…
“I want to see my uncle,” I tell the Grimsbane.
The male briefly stares at me.
“He’s still not his usual self. Might not be a good idea,” he says, fixing a black leather glove over his scarred, tattooed hand.
My shoulders slump at the rejection. I take a look at the behemoth of a mansion before me. A memory plays in my head, one that happened many years ago in front of an entrance of us just like this one.
“I don’t want to cross.” I shake my head furiously, refusing to jump over a puddle. “There’s a monster in the water.”
Mother gave a disappointed sigh and Aerin looks at me with pity.
“But there really is something in there…” I tell them desperately. All the entourage and guards are staring at the strange second child of the Wiolant family.
Rainer takes one look into the murky puddle and throws his coat over it.
“There,” he says. “Come now, child.”
My uncle is practical, efficient, and kind. That person is still there and I need his wisdom in moments like this.
“You can’t keep me away from him,” I say, storming past the assassin. He does nothing to stop me when I sprint as fast as I can across the garden.
I reach the front door in no time. It’s locked, but that’s no issue for me. I take my hairpin and jam it into the keyhole.
“Your Highness.” The assassin clears his throat from behind me.
I turn my head slowly to look at him.
“It’s this way,” he says, cocking his head in a motion that tells me to follow him. “You might not like what you see.”
I inhale a deep breath over Shade’s warning and trail behind him from the courtyard into the maze of the mansion’s hallways.
The house is eerily silent. Lady Deirdre told me that Rainer had dismissed the maids and servants in the household.
“I’ll go fetch him.” The assassin’s voice pulls me from my thoughts. “He might kill me for bringing you here.”
I shoot an apologetic look at him.
Glorious paintings cover the walls of the sitting room from the previous generations of Wiolants, Mother, Father, Aerin. My uncle lives with ghosts of our family… and Shade.I can almost feel their spirits moving in the walls, looming around my uncle.
My heart warms at the heroic portrait of my father in the Dovanor battle. Handsome, broad-shouldered, clad in Wiolant’s battle armor, riding a handsome V?lundr bred steed. Other than his larger built, my father looked so alike to Rainer they could be twins.
I miss him. I miss Mother. I miss Aerin. I miss them all.
“You remind me so much of him.”
My uncle’s voice breaks through my cloud of thoughts. I turn to the elf leaning by the door with his arms folded across his chest. He’s wearing an immaculate emerald suit, the woven thread is so dark it edged more to black. It matches the dark porcelain mask covering the upper half of his face. His silver hair might once have been closer to white but now it’s beginning to show darker streaks, making it closer to gray.
A shadow darkens his eyes as he follows my gaze to the portrait of my father.
“He could have won the battle for Rhianelle the First. Had he not chosen compassion at the last minute, the Darhash territory would have been ours too.” By the flatness of my uncle’s tone, I can sense his deep disdain. “Noble he may be, but my brother was soft.”
I understand what he meant. Father was weak…
“Aelfheim is lucky your mother made up for whatever he lacks,” he casts a warm, adoring look at the painting of mother and Aerin.
“Uncle…” I mutter. I feel a hint of tears crowding my eyes when I finally take in his presence. It’s been weeks since I last saw him. I run to him immediately.
A light smile touches his lips as he welcomes me into his arms. “How have you been, niece?”
“Good,” I mutter. The material of his suit smells like pinecones in the first breath of winter. Silly Shade made it sound like my uncle had grown horns and turned into a beast.
Rainer seems better than fine. I follow him silently to his study. I settle on the velvet settee right beside him.
I don’t bother with pleasantries and small talks with my uncle. We both detest it.
“The Aldarelfs and Aeonians are planning on reclaiming Celestria and Tavan.” I quickly update him on the High Council’s progress. “I’m trying to convince them not to do it.”
Rainer’s sharp eyes shoot to me.
“I believe it’s a waste of resources,” I add quickly.
“Agreed,” he says, giving me the faintest nod of approval. “There is wisdom in avoiding a useless fight.”
Shade arrives with a tray of tea and biscuits. It’s so odd seeing a Grimsbane completing such a domestic task. They are created for chaos and death.
“The Aldarelfs are divided on this. I wish for them all to see that this will be the ember that triggers a bigger flame,” I say the words lodged in my throat these past few weeks. “It will set us on a path to war with Avalon, Myrkheim, and Darvan. I don’t want that, Uncle.”
His intense gaze sweeps on my face and I do my best not to fidget.
“I’ll call in whatever debts and favors those nobles owed me in the past, but I can’t make promises,” he says, leaning in his chair. “I have few friends these days.”
“Thank you, Uncle.” I take a sip from my teacup.
Heavens above.
The tea is as bitter as gourd. I immediately look at my uncle. Rainer simply drinks his cup without feeling.
I ask for more sugar from Shade and he pours some.
It tastes worse.
I’m certain he has just put more salt into my cup…
“When can the vampire end the Fae King?” Rainer suddenly asks.
All my thoughts on the salty tea vanish. An icy shiver skitters on my skin at the question. I can command him at any time with the Rhunhraefn. Even Svenn had volunteered to do it willingly.
“Not before I fulfill my end of the bargain.” I lie.
“And your end of the bargain is in a spell book in the capital?” He lifts his brows.
It is too long before I finally muster the calm to answer his question. “Yes, Uncle.”
Another one of his withering gaze and I sit straighter.
“Anyone can see you have a certain hold on him,” Rainer mutters, frowning into his cup.
I forgot how perceptive my uncle can be. I say nothing to his remark.
“If you were anything like Aerin, I would have asked you to manipulate that feeling and use him to kill Eirik instantly.” His lips tighten into a line. “But you’re… you.”
There is no disappointment in his tone. Just facts.
I’m me.
“Your Nameday is coming up soon,” Rainer suddenly says.
He remembers.
“Do you have the keys I gave to you and Aerin?” He arches a brow.
I nod, touching the earring on my left, the key to open every treasure vault of the Wiolant’s safehouses all across Aelfheim.
“We’ll host a ball for your Nameday,” he decides quickly. “It will make a good show of V?lundr’s power and boost the council’s confidence in you.”
I agree with him silently.
“I don’t think I can move the warlords with words.” I swallow hard, my heart thundering.
“It’s a difficult feat, but not impossible. Your mother did it once.” Rainer yields no tinge of emotion as he leans back. “Although hers was to bring us to battle, not to shy away from it.”
Difficult but not impossible.
Rainer is right. This is an opportunity. At least I can deliver a speech to the nobles without the Aeonians’ interruption.
“Is something else bothering you?” he asks, his eyes dipping down to look at me.
“The Aldarelfs and war generals may not know I haven’t ascended, but they can tell that I’m inexperience,” I say, lowering my head to avoid that sharp gaze.
“Don’t let them intimidate you.” There is a chilling edge to his voice. “You are a Wiolant. Do not let others tell you are smaller than who you’re meant to be.”
For a moment Rainer seems to have returned to the warrior who taught Aerin and me how to fight. His words of encouragement chase the dark thoughts perched on my mind.
We sit there in comfortable silence like one of our frequent evening teas in the past.
“The Grimsbane told me you’re getting along with the vampire?” A pointed question.
I simply nod.
I don’t know what Shade has been telling my uncle. The last time he saw me, I was sitting on top of Svenn’s shoulders.
“Sharing a room with the vampire is also your choice?” he asks again.
I nod to that too.
“He’s not forcing you to do anything against your will, is he?” He quirks a brow.
“No, Uncle,” I say, and this time I look him straight in the eye.
His expression softens at my answer. I notice a shadow of something else in there too. But I can’t quite place what it is. Rainer seems paler than the parchment on the table. He briefly glances at the wooden clock behind me. “I need to have my rest now,” he says.
“Oh, I have to leave soon before curfew too,” I say quickly. “Thank you for taking the time to see me, Uncle.”
He smiles slightly. “Shade.”
The Grimsbane reappears from the shadows of the room over Rainer’s summon.
“Power is currency here in the western frontier. I want you to find mercenaries, hired sword,” he orders the grey-haired Grimsbane.
“How many?”
“As many as you can. Empty the Wiolant’s vault in this city if you must.” My uncle cares little for wealth these days. “A killer is on the rampage through town. There’s no way of knowing when he will strike. You’re to accompany my niece on that dinner dance.”
Rainer rises and saunters to the back of the room. The wardrobes are filled with stunning clothing of silk and cashmere, the softest cotton, leather shoes, and coats.
He passes the obsidian suit to the Grimsbane.
An impeccable selection. It even matches Shade’s mask. My uncle has always had the best taste for finer things.
“I shall return this without damage.” Shade bows to his Silverra, handling the suit respectfully.
“Keep it. It’s yours.” Rainer dismisses, turning to me. Stay safe, Rhianelle.”
“I’ll be all right, uncle,” I say quickly, giving him a farewell hug.
“Make sure my niece returns safely to the keep.”
With that final instruction, my uncle leaves without further word.
I hear Shade’s slow exhale of breath, as if he’d been holding it in Rainer’s presence. He tilts his head to the side, eyeing the suit in his scarred, callous hand.
“The Silverra said it’s mine…” he mutters quietly.
“He did,” I confirm with a nod, baffled by the strange emotion in his eyes.
“I’ve never owned anything…” I watch the hard movement of his throat.
My heartstrings tug over his admission.
The Ancient Ones forbid any kind of interaction with other Elven territory who refuse to join their coalition. All we know of the Grimbanes is that they are ruthless warriors, thieves, and spies born from the slums of Tiamat. But in truth they are no more than slaves to their guild of assassin.
“Come with me. I’ll have Lady Deirdre tailor it to your frame.” I take his hand. I want her to prepare one for Svenn too, in case he decides to join my Nameday celebration.
I lift the hood of my cloak to hide my hair as we soon venture out of the house. Shade does the same with an additional cowl to hide his Grimsbane’s mask. The street appears to be busier from this morning, with patrolling city guards rushing back and forth. There seems to be a commotion down the pier.
“You shouldn’t go any further,” a young sailor warns us—me in particular.
Shade merely raises a brow.
“Another corpse was found by the riverbed,” the guy answers our silent question. “It’s not something you can forget easily… The dockworker’s body was shredded to pieces, his throat ripped open.”
I mutter him my thanks for his advice. The male leaves us with a numb look of horror on his face. Having served Anastarros temple as a healer, I’m not particularly squeamish. I could go and have a look, but I find my legs turning to lead, my heart growing heavy with sorrow.
“Yesterday morning, two were found with their windpipe crushed,” Shade muses to himself.
“You don’t think it’s Svenn, do you?” I ask, keeping my face carefully neutral.
“It’s not him,” Shade says cooly.
I lift my head to look at the assassin. His smoky, chilling eyes meet mine.
“It was a clean kill yesterday, a damn messy one today. Either the murderer has a dual personality or there are two of them,” he surmises easily.
I nod silently.
His conclusion dispels the shadow of doubt at the back of my mind.
It’s not him, I repeat Shade’s words softly in my heart.
I pray to the gods that he is right.