Chapter 51
T he night enveloping her was like the hazy semi-consciousness of a fever dream. She went to him as soon as she could.
To her surprise, the Neverwinter estate had a dungeon beneath it.
Vainir was a councilor, and the duty of a councilor was to uphold the laws, and the law stipulates that all were guaranteed a fair trial.
She saw no fairness in this. Much could be hidden away from their laws in dungeons such as this.
Vainir had followed her. He wasn’t going to give her a moment alone with the Dark Elf assassin, her Fyn. This was the only time she had left to spend with him, and, as heavy as it made her heart feel, perhaps her last time.
Fyn was propped up against the cell wall. His body was swathed in deep, nasty burns. She had been able to heal a few of the burns earlier, but the scorched flesh that remained would cause him a lifetime of torment if she didn’t heal him now.
His breathing was deep, but there was no reaction from him when the door creaked open. Her heart dropped seeing him like this .
She ran to him and her hands spread across his scars. He was hot to the touch.
“I’m here for you,” she whispered in his ear, and noticed movement from him when he heard her voice, a slight twitch from his closed eyes, a quiver from his lips. Thank Freyr, praise be. He still had strength left in him.
The magic flowed from her hands. There was a murmur from the guards.
She’d never noticed how different her healing magic was before this, never realized how special her powers were until his skin turned from red to gray, until the only thing that was ruined was his leathers.
He was healthy again, as if those burning chains never once bound his body.
Reelia reborn.
If what Vainir said was true, then her gift was far too important for him to control.
Fyn lifted his head. His eyes opened, but they weren’t focused. He’d been through an ordeal, burned in the fires of hell, only to come back unscathed.
She reached out to touch his face. “You’re free. Fly away…”
But Vainir took her by the hand and drew her away. “Come,” he ordered. “It is done.”
She wasn’t even able to give him one last look before she was ushered away.
The morning came in soft and quiet. She sat on the edge of Vainir’s bed. He left her here after she healed Fyn last night. She’d gotten no sleep and had watched through the open veranda as dusky early morning twilight spun into pale gold dawn .
Her mind was in a fog, sleep beckoned, but her nerves wouldn’t allow it. All she could think of was Fyn.
Would he be safe? Would Vainir keep his word?
He had to because of the blood oath, but she needed to see it for herself.
Also … what would become of her? Her future …
The wife of a councilor, and not just any councilor, Vainir Neverwinter, the most sought-after male in Alfheim.
Before this, she remembered hearing his name on young elven girls’ lips in between squeals and giggles and had witnessed for herself the most beautiful of highborn society, noble ladies, vying with each other to get just a glance from him their way.
If they only knew of him what she did.
Later that morning, clouds covered the sky, and it turned the rich golden light gray. An ill omen.
Servant girls came into the room and helped her bathe and put down dresses for her to choose from, each as elegant as the next, on top of the bed.
She chose the least frivolous-looking one, a flowing dress in white chiffon.
They brushed her hair out long and placed a silver circlet on her head with tiny, shiny pearls dripping from it.
She looked ever the part of a highborn lady and nothing like herself at all.
As she stared at her reflection in the silver-framed mirror, she made a promise to be transparent no more and become like this mirror, only showing what she wanted to show from the outside.
From now on, she had to hide her feelings behind this facade and become a high lady .
There was no room for error, and she couldn’t remain na?ve, like that simple-hearted girl raised in the forest who blindly thought an elf’s words matched their actions and who trusted all the lies her high priestess told her.
No, this time, her discipline would take another form, calculating and distant to guard her heart and place no faith in those based on the projections from their mirrors, the false face they wore for the crowds.
That was the only way she was going to survive this and have the fortitude to do what she must do next.
Aelrie was brought before Vainir, and she stood stiffly beneath the weight of unfamiliar eyes all around. He’d gathered some highborn nobles to bear witness, their faces unknown to her and their names forgotten the moment they were introduced.
Vainir extended his hand to her with affected grace, as if she truly were his beloved. She placed her hand in his, plastering on a fake smile as he kissed her knuckles with practiced charm.
“My betrothed,” he addressed the assembly, his voice full of pomp. “Does she not resemble a goddess?”
The highborn nobles murmured their approval, offering Vainir congratulations while she responded with a polite smile, bowing her head as salutations and congratulations blew around her like distant chatter on a breeze. None of it touched her because none of it mattered.
His flattery was a performance, and she was just his prop .
Leaning toward him, she whispered, “I need to see him off.”
He mirrored her closeness, his voice low and calm. “I gave you my word. I swore a blood oath.”
“I know.” She searched his face for a hint of softness. But when he turned to her, his expression remained carved from stone. “I just… need this … one final moment. To say goodbye.”
His eyes met hers, artful yet manipulative. He did not like it when she spoke of Fyn. The irritation flickered behind his eyes before he masked it again.
“It shall be the last time,” he replied flatly.
She nodded, voice barely above a breath. “Then I’m yours. No more hesitations.”
That, at least, seemed to please him.
“Very well,” he said, turning away. “But understand, there will be no more concessions.”
He slipped back into the crowd, accepting praise from his guests, while she stood silent amongst the celebration, already mourning a future she had bartered away.
It was near sunset, and the sky was still gray.
She stood on a balcony over the back entrance to the estate, wearing a fur-lined cape over her dress to keep the chill out.
Her gaze drifted to the forest beyond, bathed in the warm hues of fall in full foliage and perfumed in the earthy scents of wood and rot.
But she didn’t come out here to view the forest. Her anxious eyes fell below at the sound of a door opening as two guards walked out and stood on either side.
She held her breath until she saw a tall figure step out in a black cloak with white hair billowing in the slight breeze.
As if he knew, as if he could sense her presence without her uttering a sound, his head turned around, and their eyes met.
The look on his face, in his eyes, and how they widened at the sight of her. He was a bit confused, a bit in awe. But there was also anxiety written in his expression. The way the corners of his eyes tugged at his skin. She could read his thoughts. He was searching for a way to save her.
She wanted to speak, to cry out. So many things pressed against her lips, but she couldn’t say anything.
Vainir then appeared at her side, quiet and composed. He took her hand in his and kissed it.
Her head snapped toward him, shocked by his audacity. It was fine to pretend in front of his guests, but he knew exactly what he was doing and who was watching.
She turned back toward Fyn. His gaze had hardened, narrowed on Vainir. The two regarded each other for a tense moment, a silent war passing between them. One of the guards then prodded Fyn forward, motioning for him to get lost. Vainir gently pulled her from the balcony.
It hurt. This pain that tore through her, unfamiliar yet absolute. She’d never felt it before, so she had nothing to compare it to. It was an immediate sinking feeling in her heart, as if it had been thrown into an abyss with no way for her to reach it.
She didn’t know it would be like this, to have her heart ripped from her.
But she could endure it because …
She would sacrifice her life, her happiness, for his life, his happiness.
Whatever misery awaited her in this farce of a marriage was a fair price to pay for his life, his freedom.
Because that’s what she wanted for him, to fly free and make a home for himself even if she wasn’t going to be a part of it.
Even if he got to soar in the sky above her, like the bird of his name, and she had to stay here, chained to the ground.
Her eyes drifted to Vainir, this stranger she was oathbound to marry. He looked pleased with himself; his confidence was an affront to everything she had lost.
He had taken everything from her.
For that, she would find a way to bring him down. Blood oath be damned.
And if damnation also waited for her, so be it.