Page 126 of The Shadow Fae Rhapsody
I drag a hand through my hair, loathing at the sight of the flimsy thing she is supposed to wear tomorrow.
This one is ceremonial,she said.
If we have more time, I can find a talented dwarven smith to smelt the Grimsbane’s armor I scavenged in the forest and forge a new one for Rhianelle.
I don’t hold high hopes when I open the ornamented crate her uncle gave her. A wave of relief washes over me at the sight of the full set battle suit inside, sturdy, lightweight, and proper. At least the guy has the sense to arm his niece with decent gears.
The front of the armor is delicately carved into overlapping angelic feathers. Paired with the broad emerald cape, it will make Rhianelle’s petite body look fearsome and menacing.
Ice floods my veins each time I imagine her in the face of danger tomorrow. This refined armor is impressive, but it is still not tailored to her. The smallest thing can make a big difference in the field.
I pick up the whetstone to sharpen her sword when another smaller crate snags my attention.
It has dwarven letterings carved on top of the lid.
A gift for the Queen of Elves.
I unlock the box to find two wicked daggers staring back at me. It feels like an eternity has passed when I release the heavy breath I’ve been holding. Few things in this world can enchant me to that point other than my sweet Nel.
Both blades are made of a metal as dark as night itself. And yet, they glow with the iridescent light of the moon. Dwarven made objects always have a remarkable quality to them. They possess rare abilities, some becoming the stuff of legends and myths.
I can feel their strange pull beckoning me to pick them up. The hilts are fashioned into the shape of a serpent, one black and the other one white. I select the darker one, rotating the weapon in my hand.
Raw power flows into me the moment I wield it, rumbling and crackling. It’s heavier than my best war hammer. How is little fawn going to carry this thing? A shiver slithers down my spine when it starts to sing.
“Svenn…” Rhianelle suddenly stirs on the bed. The girl is having nightmares again.
It snaps me out of the dagger’s charm. Nothing deserves my attention more than little fawn, not even an otherworldly dagger. I should hold Nel and comfort her until morning.
Darkness plunges over the inside of the tent. My senses go into full alert at the sudden threat.
Nel?
She’s the last thought on my mind before a sharp pain shoots down my spine. I slowly look down at the source of pain. Something dark and cold pierces through my abdomen.
It’s the shadow spear of the Rhunhraefn.
“Rhianelle?”
Chapter 19 Svenn
Scorching flames engulf me. Every inch of my body feels the burn. How long has Nel been corrupted?
From the very beginning,a voice whispers, embedding itself like a thorn deep in my heart.
Another dark spear slices through the air, stabbing me on the shoulder. I jerk from the sharp sensation lancing through my body. The blow reverberates in my bones. My jaw clenches shut at the excruciating torment.
I know this familiar darkness. I’ve felt this numbing ache before.
It’s sinister, deathless, and unforgiving.
It’s her.
Lilith, that fucking witch.
“Rhianelle!” I hiss her name as another pointed barb strikes over my back.
I take assault after assault from the shadow lances until I collapse on the floor; the agony ripping through me.
