Page 159 of The Shadow Fae Rhapsody
“Here we are,” the squire says, his face bright and happy.
I hop off the wagon. “Thank you, Cedwyn.”
The eerie feeling he invokes never fades even as I bid him farewell. I touch my ribs as soon as the boy disappears from sight.
Pain accompanies my walk to the tent with every shallow breath I take. It’s like I can’t inhale enough air into my lungs. Exhaling takes another overwhelming effort as a sharp pain strikes my ribs whenever I do.
I can’t go to Lady Deirdre or my knights with this injury. They’ve seen me intact and whole after the battle. I just have to bear with the pain and sneak into the Hlaryan Elves’ tent later.
I raise the flap to my tent and gasp in a breath.
There he is in the middle of the tent, just as Aelfric had promised. Not a single horrific weapon jutting from his body.He is clean and well-groomed in a long sleeve black tunic and breeches.
I made it.
Somehow I made it home to my husband.
“Svenn…” I feel the burn at the back of my eyes. The weight of the mountain of things I want to say trembles on my lips.
My heart stutters when his eyes flick to me. “Nel.”
He takes in the sight of me, and just like that, relief vanishes from his face. In an instant, he is wilder that the beast that had torn through the rebel orcs earlier.
“What happened?”
Chapter 29 Rhianelle
“Nothing happened.” I lower my head, refusing to meet his eyes. “I got them in the battle.”
Svenn snarls, low and vicious. “I want names.”
He knows.
Cold wrath rearranges his feature into something terrifying. World ending.
His body is slowly shifting again.
Either that or my vision has become blurry and doubled. Pain spears through my lung with every breath I take. It reaches to the point that it is too unbearable for me, and I crumble to the ground.
Svenn catches me before I hit the floor. “Nel?”
“Yes, I lied…” I confess to my husband. “I have no one to turn to. I’m in so much trouble, Svenn. Help me.”
His eyes fall to mine and I see his vengeance dissolving away into agony.
“I’ll take you to the healers,” he says, his eyes intense, near glowing.
I blink back my tears. “I can’t go to the Hlaryan elves. No one can know I’m hurt. Not even my knights. Can I trust you?”
I really have no shame. I just stabbed this man in the chest and now I’m asking for his help.
“You can trust me,” he vows. His voice is far too calm for his eyes. “Tell me what you need.”
“Can you help me sneak out to the Hlaryan elves’ tent?” I ask quietly. “The one on the northwest side of camp?”
He pauses for a beat, then nods.
If the Aeonians sense even a whiff of weakness on my uncle, they will open an enquiry. Avalon, Myrkheim, Darvan, and Hel are coming for us. We can’t afford a civil war in Aelfheim right now.
