Page 28 of A Serenade To The Elf Queen
The Savage Fae rules these lands,I remind myself.
Every beast in the continent answers to them; from the tiniest termites to the wyverns of Eastfall. They can speak to the waters and wind in a way no other creature can.
Our envoy speaks in a hushed tone and small voices. Even Garrett grows quieter the farther south we travel.
“The Veil is just beyond the tree lines,” the scout reports to Darstan. The pathway to the human world is under a neutral border between Aelfheim, Avalon, and Myrkheim.
“We’re in fae territory. Pull up your hood,” Aelfric warns, as soft as a midnight whisper. “I need to speak to the Red Road Sentinels for permission to set camp.”
I glance at the scarlet gravel beneath my Noctral’s hooves. In days of old, when the relationship between our realms was golden, elven merchants would travel through this fae-made route to the far reaches of the land to trade.
Pebbles on the ground vibrate at the arrival of something massive. The marrow in my bones grows cold when a gargantuan lizard peers its head from the bushes. A black armored rider rests on the saddle on top of its neck. He doesn’t carry a single weapon on him, not even a knife, and yet the threat of his presence remains.
This is one of them. The Savage Fae of Avalon.
Fear knots in my gut at the sight of Eirik’s royal insignia on his shoulders; the Black Rose of Death. The Aeonians told us the fae were born without hearts. I half expected a monster when he removed his helm, but the male is almost as beautiful as Garrett, with gleaming dark hair and tanned skin. He briefly scans our envoy with an amused expression.
“Wait here,” Aelfric mutters softly, dismounting from his Noctral. My knight approaches the fae slowly with raised hands. A strong urge to pull him back to us rises in me. I can hardly hear their conversation over the pounding in my ears.
My muscles tense when the reptile flicks its tongue over Aelfric, sizing him up and down curiously. It can crush my knight’s skull between those serrated teeth.
But the worst of my swirling anxiety never happens.
The fae clicks his tongue, turning his mount to leave. His gold-flecked onyx eyes fall on me and my heart lurches. He gives me a warm smile; one I fail to return because I thought he was baring his teeth. My gaze lingers on the apples he feeds to the lizard, on the gentle strokes he places on the reptile when it wags its tail like a dog.
This is the villain we were raised to hate?
Garrett circles closer at my disquiet. I hear his musing as my throbbing heartbeat quiets, “Where’s the savagery in that guy?”
Chapter 6 Rhianelle
No foul beasts or fae disturb our camp near the Red Road. Even our travel across the Veil through the tunnel in the Ash Tree goes smoothly. But my relief is short-lived the moment we emerge into the woods on the other side. A sense of terror grips my heart as I look at the gigantic trees around us. They’re probably older than the stones of Aelfheim.
The In Between or, as the humans call it, ‘the Devil’s playground.’ No one in their right mind would venture into this forbidden land. Only the Fae Lords occasionally brave the dangers of the forest to claim their mortal mate.
In a few hours, I will meet the person who killed my sister.
I glance at Aelfric and draw my courage from there. If my friend is willing to meet the person who maimed him for life, then I can be brave enough to meet the Demon Lord for the sake of Blaire and Aelfheim.
As if that thought isn’t distressing enough, the atmosphere of the In Between worsens the fear nesting in my chest. The air is dank, heavy with the scent of leaves and earth. There is no sound from the usual critters of the forest. It’s far too quiet. Toounnatural. Even Rainer’s Grimsbane appear unsettled. Not one of us speaks or dares breathe too loudly.
“Where do we go from here?” Tierra says at last. Her long dark hair is braided into locks down her back.
“We follow the crows. They will always fly home to him,” Lord Ctibor answers warily, as if fearful the forest itself would hear.
The murder leads us deeper into the woods where the trees are thicker and denser. I clutch my cloak tighter to fight against the creeping chill.
“It reeks of rotting flesh around here,” Cedwyn whispers in a low voice.
“Do not accost the strange things in the forest lest you want the spirits to follow you,” Eamon chastises, running a hand to smooth his fair blonde hair.
We soon meet the source of the scent of death and decay; a dead Grimsbane hanging on an elm. I force myself to look at the desiccated body. He must have died a while ago. Roots and branches encircle his black armor as if the tree itself had killed him. The sight before us unnerves the rest of the procession moving forward.
Aelfric’s eye scans the surroundings for movement, his shoulders squared tight. “We keep going.” His voice is calm, filling in the heavy quiet.
Balthazar’s lair finally reveals itself the further east we travel. The sun is high in the afternoon sky, but it fails to penetrate the thick fog surrounding the six-towered castle and its grounds. A mess of vines and thorny roses wraps around the iron studded gate, as if no one had passed through in years.
“Bold of the Demon Lord to leave his home unguarded,” Garrett muses over the absence of sentries.
