Page 139 of A Serenade To The Elf Queen
“I’m sorry for that,” she mutters, lowering her head. The hurt in her face makes me want to stab myself.
I can’t get rid of my nerves in mere days. It’s been entrenched in me over hundreds of years by Lilith and the past curse bearers. The witch had broken some kind of cord in me.
“It’s not you,” I quickly tell her. It’s important to me that she knows that.
“I understand,” she says, but I hear the hurt bleeding in her voice.
I want to say something pleasing to her to make her smile again. I remember the look on her face when I told her she was a good girl. There’s no way in hell I can randomly insert that in a conversation.
“You did good with the intoxicated orc,” I whisper low.
Her ears perk and I bite back a smile. Rhianelle likes to be praised.
“Your aim needs work though.” The words escape me before I can reel them back.
Real smooth, my inner beast frowns.
She mutters something about doing better next time and we remain in comfortable silence for a while. Those sweet doe’s eyes turn contemplative as she focuses on the papers in front of her.
I shut my eyelids and my mind conjures a strange vision; A cold rainy night no different from this one, Rhianelle is reading a book, safely tucked underneath my arm. A peaceful and warm sensation spreads across my chest.
I kill the picture almost immediately.
What is she doing in my future? Why do I even have a future? I shouldn’t allow myself such foolish thoughts. Her words and promises are getting to me.
Another vision of us slides into my mind. Rhianelle frowning at her over burnt cake at her bakery, I’m planting a kiss on her ear to calm her. A fierce longing overtakes me, and I can hardly breathe.
I made a mockery out of that dream. The ocean of sorrow that floods her eyes after the horrible things I say keeps on replaying in my head, ripping me apart.
“Nel. I apologize for—”
The words falter as I listen to her soft exhale. She has fallen asleep on the table.
Instead of rousing her, I gather her into my arms carefully. An odd satisfaction fills me as I hold her close, basking in her warmth. I place her gently on the soft mattress. Her nightgown slides, teasing the smooth skin of her thigh. I clench my fist to fight the desire to touch her. The bones in my hand protest when I almost fracture them.
She shivers a little and I wish I had warmed the bed beforehand. I pull the blanket over her body wondering what the hell I’m doing the entire time. I even go the extra length of wiping the ink off her face with a warm cloth.
The beasts that dwell inside of me become collectively content. I guess they’re pleased that I’m looking after the girl. It’s truly a wonder how she manages to get all of them to adore her. I settle at the edge of the bed, listening to the steady rhythm of her heart.
Strands of her silver hair fall forward, and I smooth them. A sudden ache grips me over how full of life and perfect she is. Rhianelle is so bright and good she’s practically radiating like a star. I am made from monsters that rise from the blackest pits of hell.
Something like me will only taint her pure heart. I can’t do this to her. But that’s the thing about darkness, it’s greedy, it’s selfish. And it will always crave the light.
“Goodnight, Svenn,” she mutters in her sleep.
If there is a god or seventy-seven of them, I pray the curse will never regain its strength. Please save this girl.
“Goodnight, Rhianelle.”
