Page 68 of A Serenade To The Elf Queen
“Repeat after me,” Kheirall instructs, leaning forward. “This ring is my sacred gift to you. An unbroken, never-ending symbol of peace and devotion. With this ring, I thee wed.”
I rehearse the words while placing my father’s ring on Svenn’s finger. My heart does a weird jitter when it fits him perfectly—until I glimpse the crusted blood underneath his nail. How many deaths has he delivered with that hand?
Svenn is a Nightwalker. I must not forget his true nature.
Ragnar takes a simple black band from his pocket. I blink in surprise at the sight of the small ring crafted from rattan.
“Don’t ask me. The vampire made it earlier,” the berserker answers my questioning look.
Svenn brushes my hand secretly with his thumb and every nerve in my body narrows to the touch. Something about the gesture feels oddly intimate.
“By the power vested in me by our fallen king, Lucifer, I pronounce you husband and wife,” Kheirall says, closing the book in his hands. “You may kiss each other.”
In front of everyone?
Svenn leans in and my heart paces into a frenzy. I swear it’s going to give out and stop beating at any second. The chaste kiss he plants on my lips is brief, almost featherlight, but it doesn’t stop my toes from curling. He pulls back, his thumb stroking my cheek. Shivers of arousal dance on my skin over the soft caress. I gaze at the beautiful, cruel monster I just married.
A hint of a smile curls his lips as he looks at me. In that moment, I see a glimpse of the man I met in the cold dungeon. The one who cares for me, the one who adores me.
Svenn.
Suddenly, my heart feels a little lighter. I’m still in a daze when he removes himself from the altar to follow Ragnar.
“That went as smoothly as I dared hope,” the Demon Lord says with a bemused look. “Let’s not waste the night. Come with me.”
My royal knights move to follow us, but Kheirall stops them. “This is where you leave her.”
Aelfric looks as if he has more to say. I take his hand in mine. I can fake the happiest smile on my face, but I know it’s not going to work on my friend. So, I tell him what I know in my heart to be true. “He’s not going to hurt me,” I say, filling my voice with as much determination as I can. “I want to do this for us all.”
His eyes are churning with emotions, but he gives me a subtle nod at last. As I let go of his hand, I know this will be my last chance to run away.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say to Darstan and Garrett.
I take one last glance at everyone before leaving. There is no room for hesitation and doubt. I’ll be branded a traitor if I fail this. The people I love will have no place in Aelfheim.
I trail behind Kheirall’s measured steps to the large wedding tent prepared by the Tluryan elves at the centre of the clearing. Ragnar and Svenn are both waiting for us at the entrance. The berserker suddenly pulls three pieces of hair from Kheirall’s head. I watch intently as he weaves them on a strange pendant.
“What was that for?” the Demon Lord grumbles.
“This is a wedding gift for you, Your Highness. It’s small, considering I owe you a life’s debt,” Ragnar says meaningfully.
He owes me nothing. If anything, I’m the one responsible for releasing the vampire from his tomb.
Instead of passing the pendant to my hand, the demon offers it to Svenn. “The spell will give him Kheirall’s mastery of language. But it’s fairly new and untested, so it may or may not work.”
“You couldn’t cast that spell earlier?” Kheirall asks, crossing his arms.
“The last time I tried to use the pendant, it felt like an arrow straight to the head. He might kill us thinking it’s a trick,” the berserker answers coolly.
His worry is warranted. I catch the distrust in Svenn’s eyes over Kheirall’s translated explanation. After a significant pause, he takes the totem from Ragnar’s hand and retreats into the tent.
“Thank you,” I say to the demons before following the Nightwalker.
“Wait, I have a gift for you too,” Kheirall says, a wicked smile growing on his face. “Just turn around. I’ll wrap it real quick.”
I humor the demon and do as he requests. A slight panic fills me at the clanking sound of his keys.
“Is it something from the Hollow?” I ask, swallowing my dry throat.
