Page 64 of A Serenade To The Elf Queen
“Let go,” I choke.
“Deviate a single word from this decree, your uncle, your knights, and everyone you’ve ever loved will be considered traitors to Aelfheim,” they warn, their grip tightening as if they want to rip my arm off. ‘Decrepit bastards’ Rainer had called them. I am inclined to agree now.
I draw in a shaky breath. “What makes you think the vampire will abide to the Arawynn vow?”
“It is a sacred bond among our kind.” Irritation and impatience leak into his voice. “I’m sure you remember the tale of Iilovalle and the Dragon.”
I hate that story. They both die in the end.
“Then give me something in return. Promise me we’ll save Blaire, the Maiden of Arawynn, if I marry the vampire.” The stutter in my voice echoes the beat in my heart.
“You are not in a position to be making any demands. But of course, saving the maiden will be the first thing we do.” There is a bit of a mockery in those words. It’s almost as if they know they don’t have to honor it.
I lift my chin, glaring at them with all my might. “Understood.”
They release my arm, throwing me backwards. Blood rushes back to my fingers, blistering me with a burning sensation. It takes all my strength to remain standing. I will not let them see me broken. I will not bow.
“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Eamon flashes me a smile that makes my skin crawl. There is something unnatural and cruel in the way the Aeonians force him to do it.
His maddened dark eyes recede. The real commissioner slowly swims back to consciousness. He takes a moment to steady himself, “Is everything alright, Your Highness?”
I nod briefly, hiding my hand behind my back.
The Aldarelf seems oblivious to his masters’ ruthless threat. “I’ll wait for you outside.”
Sweat breaks out on my forehead over the pain lashing beneath my skin. It takes several breaths for me to calm myself. A fierce red color marks the site but it will bruise soon. My hand trembles as I bandage the handprint with a ribbon from my hair.
No one can know what transpired between me and the Aeonians. I can’t ask Lady Deirdre to heal this, or Rainer will find out. My uncle is searching for a reason to rebel against the Elders. It’ll be a civil war between Völundr and Aelfheim if he finds out. I’ll have to hide this from my knights too. Darstan and Aelfric may abide to stand down, but Garrett is a wild card.
There’s no telling what he might do. My eyes burn with unshed tears the moment I step outside.
“Promise me something,” I whisper to my knights. “Whatever I decide from here on, you’ll trust me.”
The three exchange looks with each other. Aelfric briefly glances over at me. “We’re with you to the end.”
Silence reigns our short walk to the abandoned temple. The frigid night presses in as we arrive at the clearing, but I’m not worried about the cold. My heart thumps wildly at the sight of the vampire seated high on the ruined throne on top of the mountain of rubble. Svenn lowers his head, looking down on us like some kind of tyrannical god.
Our gaze locks and I am held captive by the darkened depths of his eyes.
Kheirall settles on one of the broken pillars in the ruin with the script they’ve given him.
“We just want to talk,” he says, keeping his manner light and easy. I don’t know how the two demons are keeping it together so well considering they’re facing a creature that has tried to kill them.
None of the Aldarelfs dare to get closer to the Nightwalker. Tierra manages to take several steps forward before her survival instinct kicks in. “To the elves, marriage is more than just the union of souls, it’s a binding contract,” she explains from afar, her voice crisp in the cold night air.
Kheirall translates the lengthy proposal from the Aldarelf as best as he can. Svenn’s handsome face remains emotionless as the Demon Lord lays the conditions of the Arawynn vows.
Eamon makes a show of presenting the sacrifices in front of him. The Nightwalker says nothing. He is listening to the Demon Lord, but his entire focus falls on me. I will myself not to squirm beneath that stare.
“I don’t think he understands…” Aelfric mutters, crossing his arms.
“He understands enough.” Kheirall shrugs.
“Why don’t we give him some time to consider?” Lord Ctibor suggests.
“This is not the time to be honorable. The Sangail Lunae is ending soon. I bet he’ll barter anything to get out of that hell hole,” Eamon says sharply.
A deep voice rumbles from the Nightwalker’s throat when he finally answers Kheirall’s question in a single note.
