Page 54 of The Shadow Fae Rhapsody
A heavy branch strikes my head and darkness claims me. My eyes droop.
I’ll come back.
I told him that, didn’t I?
Sorrow clutches my heart. I shouldn’t have made promises I can’t keep. A hand grasps my arm, pulling me up.
Svenn? He came to rescue me?
I take a gasping breath as soon as I break through the surface.
“Hang in there, Rhianelle,” I hear Nimue yelping anxiously. She grabs me and Coral, swimming us to safety. The wraith keeps our heads above water as she pedals on her back. I can feelher strength dissipating with every stroke. Nimue is used to the calm lake of Astefar, not this dangerous, wild tide.
I barely manage to push myself from the flowing rush to the higher slopes lined with the trees. Nimue and I struggle to pull up Coral, but after several painful heaves, we finally get her down on the mud.
The wyvern lays unmoving.
“No, no, no. Heavens please,” I beg the heavens as I crawl to check her head.
I stroke her belly and her back. Her scales are cold. So cold. She has no heartbeat, no breathing sound.
Nothing.
“Is the baby dead?” Nimue asks, slumping beside me. A note of panic creeps into her voice.
“I don’t…” I shake my head. “I don’t know.”
I attempt another rub on her back to rouse the small wyvern. Nimue does the same, but Coral remains completely still.
Branches crunch from behind us.
The Shadow Fae can be as silent as a mouse if he wants to. That sound he made is purposeful, an announcement of his presence, just as the thud of his heavy boots in the mud.
“It’s too late for you to run now,” the jester says in a mocking tone. “Master Landon, thank goodness you’ve come. These thieves are trying to steal your precious artwork.”
“Shut it,” the Shadow Fae orders curtly.
The jester finally does, covering his mouth.
Nimue steps between Landon and me.
“Don’t—don’t come any closer.” My friend tries to keep her voice and her feet steady. She’s failing miserably at both.
My breath turns uneven as I look at the two of them in their standoff.
“Hello there.” The fae’s lovely voice carries across the clearing.
The Lady of the Lake turns even paler than her usual ghost-like skin, but she remains determined.
“Are you the one who’s been watering my garden?” he asks in that musical lilt.
The Lady of the Lake gives him a nod of confirmation.
He stares at her response silently.
“Good girl.”
Just like that, Nimue melts into a puddle. Her spirit abruptly returns to Astefar through my summoning spell.
