“She will,” I agree, moving closer. “But she’s here to keep you company.”
The wyvern has now successfully claimed half the bed, looking remarkably satisfied with her conquest. Her tail swishes once and knocks over another carefully placed ornament.
Rhianelle sighs, pressing her fingers to her temples. “Tallula and Lenna are going to think I’ve lost my mind.”
“Let them think what they will.” I catch her hand, drawing it away from her face. “You’re their queen. If you want to keep a fae wyvern as a pet, who’s going to tell you otherwise?”
“The Council. The Elders. Every noble in court—“
“The war gives them weightier concerns than your choice of companions.” I brush a strand of silver hair from her face. “Besides, she followed you here. Try sending her back now.”
We both look at Coral. She has wrapped herself in Rhianelle’s finest blanket and appears to be settling in for a nap. Her contented rumble fills the room.
“If she practices that trick near Clayborne’s outer fields, we may owe the lord a new harvest,” I remark, eyes on Coral.
Rhianelle blinks at me. “Svenn, Coral would never burn his lands.”
But her lips press together as she considers how dry the fields are this season. One spark and one shift of wind. That is all it would take.
“I would rather not testLord Clayborne’s forgiveness,” I add.
Her shoulders soften, just slightly. “All right.”
She leans into me for a moment. I breathe in her scent, memorizing it for the lonely nights ahead. Coral’s snoring has already begun.
“When do you leave?”Rhianelle asks quietly.
“Tomorrow at dawn.”
She nods against my chest. Her hand holds on tighter.
I wrap my arms around her and let the moment stretch. What I don’t tell her is that I need this as much as she fears it. The eclipse is coming and I feel it in my bones, the slow erosion of the leash I keep on myself. I won’t let the bond become the thing that hurts her. Distance is the kindest thing I can give her right now. Being away will be good. For both of us.
I’ll do what is necessary.
Even if it feels like tearing my heart from my own ribs.
5
Chapter 4 Rhianelle
The morning light filters through my chamber windows, but it does nothing to warm the empty space where Svenn should be. The bed feels too large without him. I run my fingers across the sheets where he once lay, searching for any lingering trace of him. His scent fades more each day.
I pull my shawl tighter, trying not to count the days since he left. It's been three weeks since he departed to fight the rebel orcs. Reports come through Lord Wesley that Ravenrock has been retaken and Ironhold is secured.
There's been no word from Svenn himself. The silence is worse than any terrible news could be. It leaves room for my imagination to conjure every horrible possibility. Is he wounded? Is he safe? The questions circle endlessly in my mind and I have no answers. I can't stop imagining all the ways I could lose him.
My gaze drifts to the leather-bound book on my nightstand. I've been avoiding it all week. Its pages hold such beautiful possibility. I trace the ancient symbols on its cover, my chest tight with a grief I can't yet name.
The Rhunhraefn grows stronger each day. I feel it in the air when I draw breath, in the faint tremor beneath my skin. The curse is not a thing meant to be endured. It was forged for ending, not keeping. Soon I will lose control. I have already felt it slip once. Shadow rose at my command and I let it. Chains coiled around Svenn before I could pull the darkness back. I have not forgiven myself for that.
The answer is in this book but the cost...
I close my eyes and set it aside.
I don't want to let him go.
A pitiful whimper draws my attention to the corner. Coral has curled herself into the tightest ball a horse-sized wyvern can manage. She's shivering, her pale scales lacking their usual luster.
