Page 13 of Wed to the Dark Elf

Heart fluttering, I tug the hidden door open a few more inches and slip through the gap. Beyond lies inky blackness. I run my hands along the right wall blindly until I feel a torch in an iron sconce. Striking my flint until it sparks, I manage to light the pitch-soaked torch and lift it from the bracket. Firelight spills over rough-hewn walls of natural stone. A narrow stair descends into the earth below the castle’s foundation.

I consider turning back. This feels wrong, sneaking around in secret passages. Yet if it were truly forbidden, why leave it unlocked for any to find? Emboldened, I begin creeping down the worn steps, bracing one hand against the chill damp walls.

The stairs end at another wooden door reinforced with iron bands. Unlocked, it groans open onto a small chamber with a dusty desk and more torches in brackets. My pulse skitters nervously. This must be some kind of hidden study. But why conceal it at all?

I light more torches until the room glows warm and bright. The desk holds sheaves of parchment covered in scrawling script. Not common Elvish runes, but some harsher spiky language I don’t recognize. Maps and diagrams fill the rest of the pages. None of it means anything to me.

I sift through the papers, increasingly certain this study hides dangerous secrets. But I can read nothing, ignorant as I am of the foreign script. About to turn and flee back up the narrow stair, voices from the hall above freeze me in place.

Heavy boot-steps tromp directly overhead. I dart my eyes around the shadowy room, panic rising. If I am found here, what punishment might I face? The desk chair stands against the far wall. Dropping my torch to the stones, I scramble beneath the desk, cramming myself into the tight space and pulling the chair in to conceal me. Not a heartbeat later, the hidden door rasps open. Two sets of footsteps enter.

I clap my hands over my mouth, scarcely daring to breathe. The intruders move around the chamber, speaking in low tones. I pick out words of the Elvish trade dialect used commonly around the fortress. Pressing my eye to a gap in the chair slats, I glimpse two elven men in dark studded leathers. No sigils or colors identify their allegiance. They could be anybody.

One rifles through the stack of parchments while the other leans against the wall cleaning his nails with a dagger. “This will be the perfect place,” the first mutters. “Once the lower tunnels are finished, we can move freely to and from the valley.”

The other grunts in agreement. “Slip in some of our people disguised as traders. Then we’ll see how well these walls stand against infiltrators.” He spits contemptuously on the floor. Revulsion twists my gut. These elves plot against their own kinsmen, meant to let enemies inside the fortress itself. Saboteurs and traitors.

They continue discussing plans to sneak forces inside, weakening defenses. I etch each treasonous word into my memory. Vamen must be warned. But I am trapped here until they leave. Minutes drag by endlessly until finally the conspirators depart, taking the torch and reclosing the secret door. Darkness shrouds me once more.

I huddle motionless in my cramped hiding spot, praying they don’t return. What felt like daring curiosity now threatens deadly peril. But I’ve learned secrets that could doom us all if left unexposed.

An eternity later I creep from my refuge on trembling legs. The torch remains unlit, so I feel my way up the stairs through absolute blackness. At the top I crack the hidden door and peer out. Seeing and hearing nothing, I slip into the dusty guest room once more. The empty hallway similarly shows no signs of life. I fairly run back to my own chambers, bolting the door securely behind me.

I paced the rug before the fireplace, sick dread congealing in my stomach. I don’t know if those elves spotted me. And even if my presence goes undetected, I now carry knowledge of a plot that could bring down Vamen’s entire clan. But how to reveal it without admitting I breached forbidden places? Vamen would surely cast me out for such defiance.

But the thought of treachery festering unchecked turns my blood to ice. I can’t sit silently. There must be some way to expose the threat yet keep my own actions concealed. I sit and begin carefully drafting a vague warning, praying it will be enough to save us all. Fear of speaking it out loud where others may hear has me scribbling it on the paper. Writing it down makes more sense.

When Vamen returns that evening, he finds me seated stiffly by the fire, my unsigned letter folded tightly in hand. His brows furrow in concern as he takes in my unease. “Mistress, is aught amiss?”

I lick my dry lips, choosing my words with care. “Vamen, I...I believe you are in grave danger. Here, within your own halls.” Standing hastily, I offer him the letter. “I cannot say more. Just please, beware.”

Vamen frowns deeply as he scans my cryptic warning. When he looks back at me, suspicion smolders in his black eyes. “What do you know of this?” He punctuates the question by shaking the letter.

I stare fixedly at the floor. “Nothing more, husband. I only wish to protect you.”

He is silent so long I fear he will demand more answers I dare not give. But then he folds the letter and tucks it in his belt with a curt nod. “I thank you for the warning, my lady. Rest now. I will make discreet inquiries.”

Relief nearly buckles my knees. He does not press for information I cannot reveal. Perhaps he assumes I simply overheard loose gossip from the household. Whatever he believes, I pray it is enough to uncover the vile conspiracy before too late.

Vamen gathers me gently into his arms, smoothing my hair. “Hush now, do not fret so. All will be well.” His tenderness nearly breaks my resolve to speak nothing more of what I witnessed. But the risk is too great. I simply cling to him, trusting he knows best how to turn my veiled knowledge to our protection.

The next days pass tensely as we both listen intently for any stirring of unrest in the ranks. But the fortress carries on as normal, unaware of the viper in its midst. I begin to fear my warning fell on deaf ears. Perhaps the hidden study has been moved, its damning contents spirited away. Desperation wars with caution in my mind. I may have waited too long.

Over a week after I delivered the mysterious letter, Vamen requests I dine privately with him. Fear spikes my heart, wondering if he has ferreted out my deceit. But his expression remains warm and untroubled as we sit together over honeyed porridge and spiced wine. Vamen lays his hand over mine where it rests near my platter.

“I have good news, wife. The traitors you warned of have been seized and imprisoned, awaiting judgment.”

Joy lifts me from my seat into his surprised embrace. “You discovered them! Then we are safe?”

With a chuckle, Vamen returns my sudden affection. “Indeed so. Your warning sent me digging in the proper direction. You may have saved this entire clan, Iris.” He cups my cheek tenderly, all reservations forgotten for the moment. “No matter how you came upon this knowledge, I owe you all gratitude. You are truly a daughter of these halls now.”

His heartfelt praise overwhelms me with relief and pride. I protected my newfound home and kin. And perhaps in some small way finally proven worthy of the faith Vamen showed making me his bride. Not merely the foreign human forced upon him, but now valued in full as his lady and partner. The threats may not have ended tonight, but at least they will face them together.

CHAPTER9

Vamen

My ears still ring with Iris's cries of elation at the news. Her warning note catalyzed the chain of events that exposed a viper in our home. Though she refuses to share her sources, Iris has more than proven her devotion and courage. Each day binds us closer, erasing old doubts.

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