12. Chapter 11 Rhianelle
Chapter 11 Rhianelle
T hings have been surprisingly comfortable between me and Svenn lately. It’s the little things that I noticed first. Like he lets me walk two steps ahead of him so our pace would match. Sometimes it even feels like he adores me. But maybe that is just wishful thinking on my part.
I can’t forget the way sunlight shone on his broad shoulders after our sword practice earlier. Why did he have to train with me without his shirt today? Now I have to take this shower to calm myself.
I let the frigid water run over me, soothing the exhaustion and the desire heating my skin. It’s failing miserably at the latter.
I dress into my nightgown quickly to prepare for bed. My face is still flustered when I glance at myself in the mirror. I wash it quickly with cold water to make sure it disappears. But the blush remains long after I wiped my face dry.
I guess it’s here to stay then…
The bathroom door slowly swings open. My heart nearly pounds its way out of my chest when Svenn strides in.
“There’s a perfectly good bath chamber in your own room,” I say, backing my body against the sink counter.
The guilt playing on his face is honest and sincere. “The door was open. I didn’t think anyone was inside.”
Right… I forgot that I am silent sometimes. It’s a force of habit I’ve developed to survive Astefar.
The expansive bathroom seems to shrink in his presence. He closes the remaining distance between us in the blink of an eye. A predator going in for the kill.
“What do you think you’re doing?” My heart stutters in my chest.
He makes a slow gaze from my lips to my breast, then moving downwards to my waist and hips. Svenn is looking at me like he wants to eat me.
“Nel, what did I tell you about prey-like behavior?” he says gruffly.
“I didn’t run.” I swallow my dry throat.
“This dress is prey-like behavior.” His voice ricochets through me.
It’s a nightgown, I almost quip back.
The air around us thickens, becoming charged with each passing second. His dark eyes continue to travel over my body like a phantom caress.
Then slowly, his fingers follow his gaze. His knuckles trace my jaw and collarbone, sending shivers down my spine. They move lower, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. A forbidden feeling thunders through me at the touch. I want to feel his hands on me everywhere.
He stares down at me, his eyes darkening with desire. They’re unfocussed, as if he’s in a trance. His hand lingers long on my belly, bunching my dress there.
Heavens above.
I forgot.
No. No. No.
My nightgown is sheer gossamer. He’ll see the Rhunhraefn and I’ll feel like garbage again.
But Svenn doesn’t stop.
He hooks his hand around my waist, pulling me close to him. I gasp at the feel of his erection, stiff against my stomach.
My breasts are pressed up against his hard, chiseled abdomen. I rake my hand up his chest because I can’t help it. A soft groan of delight leaves him, the sound vibrating through my body.
His heart is beating hard beneath my hand, almost as loud as mine.
What is going on? Does he not care about the Rhunhraefn mark anymore? Did his self-therapy work? And did he just purr?
I have so many questions running in my head. But the only word that ends up on my lips is, “Svenn?”
Our eyes meet.
He snaps out of it, shaking his head. The light slowly returns to his pupils. I see a hint of guilt playing on his face before he prowls away, growling.
“Where are you going?” I ask, still breathless from his stupid tease.
“There’s a perfectly good bath chamber in my room.” He waves back.
“Svenn, you jerk!”
He throws his head back laughing at my tame insult. It’s heartfelt, playful, and carefree. My brick walls melt like butter at the sound. I want to memorize and listen to it for the rest of my life.
I decide to take another bath.
A longer one this time to finish whatever cruel thing Svenn has kindled in between my legs.
I’ve been working hard with the offense aspect of my training, but not so much in the defense and protecting-my- heart part. I have the strangest urge to press my face on the nape of his neck and inhale his intoxicating scent, to trace my hand over the curved muscle of his abdomen.
These inappropriate thoughts are getting worse. He has been nothing but nice to me. And here I am, objectifying him like a pervert. I lay my head on the cool malachite stone of the tub, my finger tracing the moisture on the wall. My thoughts linger a lot on Svenn lately.
I wonder what kind of girl he likes…
You can always ask. The Rhunhraefn prompts me in the voices of the curse bearers merged as one. Take a peek. We’ll tell you all about him.
I ignore their dark whispers.
One command and he would be kneeling at your feet, the curse tempts again.
Their chatter sometimes tugs on my heartstrings, reminding me why Svenn will always hate me.
A woman materializes in my subconscious, wearing a grey robe and the skull of a boar covering her face. “We have a message from Lilith.”
“Leave me alone,” I mutter, a little annoyed. It must have taken her considerable energy to come to me.
Another appears, wearing the similar style garment with a vulture’s bone mask. “It’s an invitation. Let us give you a little show. You’re going to love it.”
They are not a threat to me. But I do not want to underestimate the Rhunhraefn.
“No, thank you,” I decline without giving her a second look. “Now go away—”
“We know you want him.”
A primal protectiveness courses through my blood. Lilith must be truly desperate if she’s relying on my feelings for Svenn to influence me.
“Let’s take a little tour, shall we?” The Boar coaxes me to come with them. “It’ll be worth your while, elven queen.”
I hesitate at the offer. It feels like a trap.
“What’s the harm?” The Vulture shrugs.
I suppose I can take a look. It’s not like they can do anything to me.
I follow them silently down a dark pathway. Dead leaves crunches beneath my feet as I trail behind them in silence. The two curse bearers stop in front of a red double door.
It gives easily with a gentle push, opening to a spacious bedroom. The furniture is elegant and the decoration is all tastefully done.
A dark-haired woman lounges on the bed, draped in a bright crimson dress. “I’ve been waiting for you.” Her voice is similar to the Boar’s.
This must be her memory.
The remark is not directed to me but to the man at the corner of the room. He steps out of the shadows, the candlelight catching the contours of his features.
His dark complexion, chiseled jaw, and lean build remind me of Lord Morcant, one of the warriors who served as my mother’s war general. But that’s all where the resemblance lies. While the general is noble and righteous, this man has a certain dangerous and intimidating presence about him.
His beauty is the kind possessed by wolves and serpents. After meeting Svenn, I know enough to be afraid of pretty things now.
This man is one of the Strigons made by the Rhunhraefn. I’ve always wondered what happened to them. But it’s not my place to ask if Svenn doesn’t want to talk of his past.
He is wearing an impassive expression as he stares at the woman in his bed. “What do you want?”
I’m wondering the same thing. What are they trying to show me?
“Come lay with me. I’ll let you do anything you want.” Her voice is sweet like honey, and beguiling.
I see the fire in his eyes, but not from desire. It’s pure hatred.
I don’t understand this memory. I look at the two curse bearers for answers.
“You see… There are those of us who took a liking to the Strigons,” the Boar explains, nudging me to keep looking at her memory.
“Come on, Bas. Let’s make this easy,” the woman in the memory purrs, drawing closer to the Vampire. She trails her finger over the line of his jaw, lifting his chin. He jerks away from the touch, baring his teeth at her.
“Kneel.”
The command is simple and firm.
Bas winces, as if trying to withstand a great pain in his head. He stares at the curse bearer, his eyes glimmering with rage.
The muscles in his neck and temples grow taut the longer he resists her demand.
“I said kneel.”There is a slight uncertainty in the boar’s voice now as she backs a step from him.
Defiance flashes across his face. It takes a while for him to follow her order, but he eventually does. I close my eyes at the sound of his knees slamming hard against the cold floor.
The arrogance returns to the Boar’s face. Her proud smirk is hideous compared to her beautiful face.
I have to take a deep breath to remain calm.
“I gave you months to mourn her,” she laments, drooping her shoulders. “It should be enough.”
He snarls at her words.
“You haven’t learned your lesson. Perhaps I should call Han and—”
“Stay away from them!” His roar reverberates through the walls and floor.
“Make love to me the gentle way you do with your whore lover.” She ensnares his hair, pulling his head back. “What was her name again? Green? Grain?”
A piercing howl rips from the vampire’s throat.
Bas abides to her order with lifeless eyes and lifts her into his arms.
“He will do whatever we please,” the Boar muses beside me.
The vampire pauses as soon as he lays her on the bed, his entire body moving with revolt and disgust, hovering over her. She flips him over and settles on top of him. A smile etches on her lips as she runs her hands over his chest.
“This is amazing, sister. Remind him that we own his body and his soul,” the Vulture cheers with clear menace. “We can just take whatever we want from them.”
“Stop this,” I tell them.
“Would you like to touch him too?” the Boar merrily offers. “Go on. Just a little taste of what it’s like to be one of us.”
I can’t stand by and watch this abuse any longer. I lunge towards her without warning, my body reacting instinctively to protect him.
The tackle must have missed because I end tumbling on the bed.
“I’m right here.” The Boar appears next to me.
I lurch towards her again, but she disappears in a wisp of smoke.
“Silly girl.” The Boar shakes her head over my failure. Her tone turns cold, mocking. “Have you forgotten this is just a memory?”
She’s right… My cheeks burn as if I had been slapped across the face. I can’t bear to look at this any longer. I storm out of the room right past them. “I’m leaving.”
“You’re no fun,” the Boar says, giggling at my reaction.
“If you leave, you’re going to miss out on the best part,” the Vulture drawls her last word.
“The best part?”
“Come and find out,” she calls over her shoulder, pushing the door to the next room.
A man stands in the middle of the room. My eyes snare to the black ink swirling along his taut muscles, from his hands to his neck and down to his back.
Svenn?
His hair is longer, without the buzzed cut at the sides. I never knew he had tattoos. I try to take in the intricate designs one at a time. They are etched on his body like a story.
My husband is beautiful, ethereal, simply out of this world. The chains on his wrists rattle, reminding me that this is a hellish nightmare.
There is nothing in the room but a burning fireplace and the manacles, shackling Svenn in place.
A brunette lady approaches him from behind. My heart begins to race the moment I realize this is the Vulture’s memory. She adorns a similar colored dress as the Boar with heavy layers and a slight alteration to the style. It’s almost as if Lilith manages to insert her will on her heirs even on the most basic of choices.
Svenn can easily rip the metal bindings anchored to the ground, but he doesn’t. The curse bearer must have commanded him to stay right where he is.
The Vulture brushes the tip of her fingers on his shoulder, circling him in a way that reflects her namesake.
“Do not touch me,” he warns her again.
She remains unfazed by his rejection. I inhale another breath just to keep myself from falling.
“What is it going to be this time?” A cruel smile spreads across her face as she presented him with the choices. “Fire or my soft hand.”
“Fire.” His voice cracks and so does my heart.
“So be it.”
She backs away towards a lever.
“You might want to step aside,” the Vulture’s apparition whispers to me.
It takes a while for me to notice the large cauldron hanging right above Svenn.
No, no, no.
She pulls the lever, and boiling water pours on top of Svenn.
My legs slacken and I crumble to the floor.
“It’s hotter than normal because I added salt to it. You might feel a little tingle on that,” she says, picking up a poker from the fireplace.
A whistle slips from her lips as she moves to his back. Fear winds its way around my pounding heart. I don’t watch but I hear and smell the brand singing his skin.
Svenn doesn’t scream despite the horror she unleashed upon him. He doesn’t even bend his knee.
I cry and cry and cry.
“Do not mind the grotesque sight, elf queen. This one is a bit harder to tame.” The Boar sighs, shaking her head in dismay.
I watch in horror as the Rhunhraefn restores Svenn’s skin slowly.
“So you see. It is such a waste of energy to be pining on the man when you can have him at any time,” the Vulture whispers in my ear in a sugary voice.
The Boar’s apparition moves to study the healed wound on Svenn’s back.
“I love this artwork. Why did you have to mess it up?” she chides, stomping her feet.
“It was an experiment.” The Vulture merely shrugs. “I needed to test out some theories. I was right, of course. The tattoos somehow don’t regenerate with the rest of him.”
My body trembles with rage listening to their rubbish conversation. I keep watching the Vulture’s memory playing in my front of me.
She moves closer to touch his face lovingly, her scarlet robe shifting in the movement. “Maybe if you just let us have what we want, we’ll finally end you.”
Svenn slowly lifts his head at the offer. A strange glimmer sparks in his eyes.
“Look at that. This is the best part.” The Vulture claps her hands proudly. “ Just a chance at true death has him salivating like a broken dog.”
I can hear the musical lilt in her voice. She enjoys torturing him.
“That’s right. If you play nice, I will let you go.” A twisted smile pulls at her red lips. “I’ll grant you the true death so you can finally be at peace.”
The Boar covers her mouth with glee. “You’re too good at this, sister.”
“The trick is to let them dream they can escape,” she announced with pure delight. “It’s a harder fall when a person goes from grasping hope to being plunged into despair.”
The two apparitions break into a cacophony of sickening laughter. Their voices grow raucous in my head, and I struggle to focus on the memory in front of me.
The Vulture takes a step closer towards Svenn, running her hand on his pecs. The entitlement of that touch makes me sick. I want to strike and push her away. Even if I know this is only a memory.
“What do you say?” She twists the lock and the heavy chains drop from his wrists. She has no intention of letting him go. But Svenn doesn’t know that.
“You would free me?” he asks.
My heart breaks at the hopeful note in his tone.
She lets out a soft, wicked laugh and nods. “One night with me and then… bliss. I’ll give you the end you’ve always wanted.”
It’s a lie, Svenn… she’s lying, I want to tell him.
My heart cracks and crumbles in its hollow chest. This is the past. I can’t do anything to fix what is done.
What she—they all did was not only cruel, but it was… nausea rises to my throat. I finally understand the flinches, the reason he is absolutely repulsed by me, the reason he tried to kill me. Svenn would rather be imprisoned in the dark dungeon for another millennia than stay with the Rhunhraefn’s vessel.
I can’t forget the disgusted look on his face when I offered to share a bed with him back in the tent. If I knew of the torment he had to endure, I wouldn’t have been so inconsiderate. If I knew, I wouldn’t have touched his chest earlier. I feel like the worst filth.
“Come now.” The vulture releases him from the shackles. She places his hand on her breast. “What do you say?”
I clench my fingers into a fist to keep them from shaking.
“Will you make love to me for your freedom?” she croons seductively.
I don’t stay to hear his answer.
“Enough.”
I slap my hands together and the terrain changes from the torture chamber into a forest background. The memory of Svenn and the Vulture vanishes like tendrils of smoke.
The two curse bearers cease their whisper immediately.
I look at the women, at each of their faces. One hundred and thirteen heirs. A few of them are staring blankly into nothingness while others have become too mad, too distraught from holding the curse.
I pity them.
Some of these girls were forced to become a vessel and some had inherited the Rhunhraefn by accident, like me.
This dark magic that Lilith has created is truly a vicious and ugly thing. It amplifies one’s darkest traits and horrible intentions.
“Which one of you touched him?” I ask calmly.
Pebbles skitter and the air crackles with the wake of my wrath.
Most of the curse bearers quickly cower behind the rocks and trees. They’ve seen what I did to Lilith. But there are more than two dozen of them who seem proud of what they did to Svenn and the other Strigons.
“Answer me,” I command, my tone sharp and deadly, forcing their eyes to focus on me.
“That was just a bit of direction and help,” the Boar says. It’s pitiful watching you getting rejected by him.
The Vulture whinnies a laugh. “We were just trying to show you how it’s done.”
I’m done listening to their chatter.
The earth shivers beneath my feet and the ground fissures. Power thrums with every beat of my heart. Their snickers and giggles soon turn into screams.
The Vulture strikes me with whatever she can grasp with her hand, rocks, sticks, sand, anything.
How useless.
This is my domain and I am in control.
“You’re a monster!” she spits at me before running away.
Another wave of my hand and the land turns barren. There’s nothing but emptiness stretching ahead of us, nowhere for them to run and hide.
The Vulture lets out an inhuman hiss, like water striking hot metal. “He will never want you—”
One look from me and the air from her lungs disappears. I want to claw her face for what she did to him. Instead, I just throw the wretched curse bearer into a box.
I slam all the rebellious ones into their iron coffins and bury them in the frozen lake next to Lilith. Another blast of my power keeps them sealed there. I exhale slowly as I watch them desperately clawing their case for a way out. I shouldn’t have come here and wasted my time.
Something moves in the darkness of the cold chasm below. The enchantress peeks at me through the small window glass of her sarcophagus. Lilith doesn’t speak a word, but a wicked smirk tugs her lips. I hate her with a violent intensity I’ve never experienced before.
Anger pulses in my veins and I will myself to look away from her.
The dim light of the bath greets me the moment I open my eyes. I take a shuddering breath and calm the fire blazing in my heart. My gaze falls to the raven’s wings marking on my belly.
The Rhunhraefn.
Tears well in my eyes as I try to scrub it off me with soap. I feel its decay, trying to pollute and inch its way into me. Like any other curse, it feasts on one’s vulnerable emotions, turning it into something vicious. I hate that something so cruel has latched itself to me.
I’ve won against its treachery today.
Yet, I don’t feel victorious because the Vulture’s last word feels like a slap to my face.
He will never want you.