Page 125 of A Serenade To The Elf Queen
The act kills me.
I give her a slow shake of my head. Definitely not. I’ve been an ass from the moment the curse was implanted on her.
“I’ve hurt you.” My voice roughens despite my attempt to smooth it.
“You weren’t yourself. It’s the armor,” she says firmly. “You spent the entire night touching the tainted object. It’s no surprise the corruption leached into you.”
What does that say about you with the most powerful curse in existence embedded in your skin and flesh?
I look at the fragile female in my lap. Is she really unaffected by that horrid thing on her belly?
“Why didn’t you use the Rhunhraefn to fight me off?” I ask carefully.
The girl just shrinks at the question, avoiding my pointed stare.
“You can command me to shred myself to pieces in the cruellest ways and I will do it.” I push again.
“I will never use that thing,” she finally says in a small voice.
There’s the answer to the golden question that has been plaguing my mind from the beginning. Rhianelle does possess the curse’s power. She’s choosing not to use it on me.
“I could have killed you, Rhianelle. Killed everyone in this camp,” I mutter the raw fact we both know.
Her lower lip trembles. “You won’t. I know you’ll come back.”
My heart twists violently in my chest. The Elven Queen trusted me. She believed that I could fight through the curse’s possession.
“But if you try to hurt the innocent, I will stop you. I don’t need the Rhunhraefn to do it,” she warns, finding the strength to glare at me.
Of all the shitty things I said yesterday, crushing her dreams, insulting the memories of her sister, that was the one that got to her?
I almost scoff but it comes out more like a strangled sound.
Because, unlike the threat from Red, fear plummets in my gut. It’s different from the terror Lilith and her heirs wrought. This is more like admiration as I gaze over the flaming fury in Rhianelle’s eyes. I recognized the same fire when she was preparing to fight the demon and the orc.
I’m not religious but if there is ever such a thing as the wrath of a goddess, this is it. Even the beast in me is humbled by her magnificent presence.
“Rhianelle,” I say to her. She blinks slowly and I can see the soft girl returning.
A devastating ache claws inside my chest. The sensation is foreign. I haven’t felt it in years.
Guilt.
It coils around my spine, threatening to cripple me. I should be impaled on a stake for what I did.
I waited for Rhianelle to succumb to the Rhunhraefn, but it was me who faltered first. A lowly curse from an abandoned armor had taken possession of me.
In my weakness, I’ve harmed the girl. I press my head into my hands.
“Did I hurt you elsewhere?” I ask her, the shame burning underneath my skin.
“I’m fine. Don’t worry,” she says, forcing a smile for me. I feel like the worst fucker in history.
She rests her head on my breastplate, taking the chance to fulfill the need for the strange bond that tethers us. It’s taking all of my willpower not to wrap my arm around her and hold her close to me. But this moment is so delicate. I don’t want to ruin this bubble of peace.
A tremor goes through my body as the cursed armor speaks to me again.
I want a thousand heads.It beckons.
