Page 36 of A Serenade To The Elf Queen
“We’ll take our chances,” Eamon interrupts. “Our Valorians are more than capable of handling a few werewolves.”
As if on cue, a wolf howls from the sea of trees.
“There are creatures worse than them that prowls the In Between at night,” I hear the demon say, but no one is listening. He takes a step closer to me, snatching my wrist. Aelfric is ready to rip his hand off, but I want to hear what the demon has to say. “Tonight is the unholiest of nights in the witch’s calendar,” Kheirall says, his expression darkening like a gathering storm cloud. “Foul creatures come out to play on the Vlatteran.”
Silence stretches as I meet his dark stare for several beats.
“I have to go,” I say, pulling my hand back.
His iron grip finally yields. “Have my berserker accompany you at the very least if you’re adamant on leaving.”
I inhale a deep breath and nod at the request.
Ragnar strides to our side. I think I might even appreciate the scholar’s company. We reach the end of the passageway when Kheirall calls to me again. “Queen Rhianelle.”
I whirl for one last look at the Demon Lord.
“I truly am sorry about Aerin,” he says, his expression faltering.
I leave the castle with a strange feeling in my chest. Because Kheirall Balthazar, the murderer of my sister, is not the devil I pictured him to be.
Chapter 8 Rhianelle
The shadow of the tree lengthens as night drops its veil. The forest is quiet in the twilight save for the sound of the undergrowth snapping from the weight of our Noctrals’ hooves. Ragnar is praying at the head of our procession. I hear transcription from various scriptures all over the world, holy and unholy. I didn’t know that demons were so… devout.
“You’re the Demon Lord’s enforcer and you’re afraid?” Garrett asks, the corner of his lips lifting in amusement.
“I am,” Ragnar admits without shame. “The horrific legend of the forest is widely known even from the time I was human.”
“You were once human?” Aelfric asks with interest.
“A long time ago,” the male answers. “Ragnar is not even my real name. It’s the name of the man who bought my freedom from the slave traders. My real name is—”
He suddenly raises his fist for our envoy to halt in silence.
Garrett gives him a hard stare. “What’s wrong? Are we lost?”
“Worse,” the demon says with a slow shake of his head. “We are found.”
Something is breathing amongst the trees. A predator lurking in the dark. My valiant guard quickly flanks me left and right to protect me from the incoming danger.
I inhale a deep breath to calm my pounding heart. “Werewolves?”
Ragnar sniffs the air and nods. “This area is their hunting ground.”
A white wolf, bigger than a Noctral appears from the trees. Behind it, several more eyes gleam in the dark. They have us surrounded.
Its sharp teeth glint in the soft crystal light as it growls at me.
“Rachel, calm down. These are Kheirall’s guests,” the demon snarls right back.
I freeze over a guttural groan from Rachel’s throat. Ragnar seems to be able to understand her as he nods to every sound she makes. The pack of wolves leaves as quickly as they came.
“We’ve picked the worst night to be out here,” Ragnar says softly, staring at the rising moon.
“Wraiths, werewolves.” I hear Lord Ctibor complain. “Only the gods know what is lurking in these woods.”
“No, they don’t.” The demon shakes his head. “Not even the devil does.”
