Page 110 of A Serenade To The Elf Queen
“Open your eyes,” I coax her softly. “There’s no monster. It’s just a dead knight.”
The girl peeks slowly to look down.
“Hmm.” She merely nods, scrunching her nose.
The tree looks as if it had burst out from the dead knight’s chest cavity. Now that I think about it maybe I shouldn’t have shown her such a gruesome sight.
“Something feels wrong. I don’t like it.” She clings to me tighter, her long waves of hair tickling my skin. As much as I love having her soft curves pressed to me, I don’t enjoy her distress.
I almost turn away to leave but that’s damn good armor. What a waste for it to lay there in the vines to rust.
“The metal is rare.” I marvel at the strange thing.
“It’s dwarven made. But it’s wrong to loot from the dead.” I can hear the frown in her voice.
“Good thing I’m one of them.” I yank the black armor from its resting place. I make sure to take a longer road and detour as we stroll back through the woods.
The elves are still in the midst of battle by the time we arrive. I refuse to let her go until the last scream of the raiders fades. After a long protest, I release her from my embrace. I step into the shadows the moment her handmaidens and knights rush to check on her.
Her twinkling eyes return to look at me for a moment. A faint smile graces her lips.
Just like that, I am struck with a yearning so deep it feels like someone notched an arrow in my wing and I’m free-falling to the ground.
No, Rhianelle Wiolant is not my salvation.
She will be my doom.
Chapter 33 Rhianelle
The Noctrals are too rattled to continue the journey and we have to set camp. Aelfric runs his hand over one of them, inspecting the fur and horn. The knight has a way around the mystical horse, both creatures of speed and servants to Tavarra the Traveler.
“Some of them are injured,” Aelfric says, soothing them with a soft whistling sound. “Are you done with your prayers?”
“Almost,” I say, finishing the final send-off to Kattagan. Rainer doesn’t like it when he sees me doing it for the souls of the enemies.
Garrett joins us, whittling wood with his knife. I smile at the memory of the adorable, handcrafted sculptures in his room. There’s a flash of sadness in his face when our eyes meet.
“Is something wrong?” I ask him.
“You almost died today. I feel like I have failed you in every way a knight can,” he says.
“That’s not true—”
“Don’t give her the new task of comforting us. Just do a better job from now on,” Aelfric cuts in. I notice he seems to be a little on edge.
I follow his dark gaze to the male stationed at the edge of the camp, ostracized from the rest of us.
Svenn is so heavenly and beautiful under the soft evening light. Heat rises to my cheeks when he removes his tunic and starts polishing the Grimsbane armor he found in the forest with it. I marvel silently at the perfect contour, at every ridge of taut muscle lining his body. A warrior, bred and honed for battle.
My heart does that thing again where it tries to grow wings to get to Svenn. I tell it not to be a fool. I was such a pathetic mess in the forest.
I bit him. It wasn’t even one of those sensual, love bites. I chewed on his neck like a wild raccoon. Embarrassment lights up my cheeks again.
I shift my gaze only to find Garrett looking at me with a sly smile playing on his lips.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing,” he says, chuckling to himself. “I think the Nightwalker is allergic to clothes or something. Lucky you, though.”
