Page 120 of The Shadow Fae Rhapsody
“But tomorrow you’ll be taking a life with this,” I say, squeezing her small hand. “You have a tendency to overthink. Just stab.”
She nods quietly and picks up a battle piece on the table.
“Don’t worry. I went to the same Eldrovvar Arcanum as Aelfric and Garrett,” she quickly says, beaming proudly.
If those two are the benchmark, then I am not impressed with whatever training school they have, but I manage a smile to boost her confidence.
“I’ll be watching you the entire time.” I gently rest my forehead against hers.
“I’m sorry you were thrown into this. It’s not your fight,” she says, nuzzling her head to my chest. “You’re my mate, but you still have a choice to walk away from the battle.”
Not my fight? Is she fucking kidding me?
I’m actually livid she would even say that.
“I won’t allow anyone to hurt you.” My voice comes out gravelly and gruff.
“Same here. I don’t want you to get hurt either,” she says, her fingers curling into my vest.
Rhianelle cares for me…
I see the clear contrition in her face. Even her long elven ears droop a little.
This female truly has no idea what she’s doing to me. I take her hand and kiss her knuckles. “I will serve you, queen.”
I will raise hell for you.
“I’m embarrassed, but I won’t refuse your offer,” she says, her shoulders slumping with resignation. “I need all the support I can get. Thank you, Svenn.”
She places the stray piece she toyed with on the strategy board again and I take a quick glance at it.
I don’t believe that her knights, the fucking bastards they may be, agreed to leave her in this exposed position. This must be her idea.
“Do you really have to be on the front lines?” I ask her.
“The bandits will never fall for the trick if I’m not there.” I catch the worry in her tone. But I know better than to persuade her to stay behind.
“Fine. But you’re not going to battle in that, are you?” I ask, jerking my head to the side.
At the corner of the room lies the most absurd looking armor I have ever seen in my existence. The frilly turquoise sheer gossamer is restrictive and impractical. Her abdomen and thighs will be completely exposed to the elements. This thing is not only detrimental to my wife’s health but to the entire elven infantry. I may have to kill all of them tomorrow just for looking at her in this fuckery.
“That one is ceremonial for the morning blessing tomorrow,” she says, smiling a little. Even the girl knows the shit their temple is making her wear is ridiculous.
I am still contemplating murder when Rhianelle struts towards a large golden container bedecked with emerald stones. The girl taps it proudly. “Don’t worry. My uncle gave me proper ones.”
The fancy box alone makes me lose my faith with the elven equipment inside. My eyes fall at the blunt swords on the table next to me. “Have you had this one oiled and sharpened?”
“Cedwynn said he’d done it,” she replies swiftly.
I can’t believe she entrusted her blades to some random squire. “It’s your responsibility to check your own weapons.”
“I’ll do it tomorrow,” she promises with a smile. The girl runs back into my arms for a hug. I will excuse her indiscipline this one time because it’s her first battle. My mate aspires to be a baker, not a warrior.
I return her smile and kiss her head. “Good. Now go to bed and rest.”
“I can’t sleep…” she mutters, seeking comfort in my embrace. “Let’s just talk until morning comes.”
Rhianelle may have said that but she doesn’t speak. We hold on to each other in comfortable silence. I know she’s beyond terrified for tomorrow. I can almost hear her mind whirring as she stays in my cradle, absently pulling a loose thread on her dress as if it’s the most interesting thing she has ever encountered.
