"Him?" Petal squeaks. She looks at Svenn again and lowers her voice. "He looks more like the villain."
"The best princes usually do," River says sagely.
Fleur beams. "Then you got your happy ending after all, Fawn."
"I hope so," I say softly.
"Oh no, Fawn." Fleur grabs my arm, her eyes going wide. "I told Thorn to activate the house protections to save you.”
The walls groan ominously.
Vines burst from carved wood panels, twisting outward like grasping fingers. The corridor shifts as if alive. Timber bends. Passageways narrow and warp.
Everyone looks up.
"Run," Fleur says urgently. "Go, now."
Svenn doesn't need to be told twice. Black wings erupt from his back. His arm wraps around my waist and the ground drops away. We shoot upward through an upper window and into the cold night air. Greenvale falls away beneath us. The PaintedMoth's living walls reach for us, then fall short, then disappear entirely.
I look down at the three small figures in the doorway. Petal's wings catch the light. River's hand is raised. Fleur stands between them, all three grinning and waving.
I wave back.
They cheer, their voices carrying faintly on the wind. I turn to look at Svenn. His dark eyes meet mine as we climb higher into the night sky.
He saved me.
My vampire prince.
10
Chapter 9 Svenn
The forge glows with the breath of flame. Hrolf hunches over the anvil, hammering out sparks with every swing. He's shorter than me by at least two feet, but his presence fills the space. His beard, streaked with gray, nearly touches the fire as he leans in to examine my work.
"The metal is not your enemy, vampire," he grunts, not bothering to look at my face. His eyes stay fixed on the glowing steel between us. "Stop trying to murder it."
I force my fingers to relax, adjusting my grip. The leather-wrapped handle feels foreign in my palm. I'm more accustomed to holding weapons than tools.
"Better," Hrolf mutters. He brings his hammer down in a perfect arc. The ring of metal on metal echoes through the forge. "The hammer does the work. You're just there to guide it. Let the weight fall."
I mimic his motion, bringing my hammer down. The impact reverberates up my arm and shoulder.
"You're thinking too much," Hrolf says. He sets his hammer aside and crosses his arms, watching me.
I strike again as instructed. The sound is cleaner.
Hrolf nods, the corners of his mouth twitching beneath his beard. "Aye, like that. You're learning."
He reaches for the tongs, turning the steel in the fire. Sparks shower upward like startled fireflies. The chain lies across the anvil with thick, brutal links. I watch the metal glow brighter, shifting from orange to a blinding yellow-white.
"Will it hold?" I ask.
Hrolf doesn't look at me. He adjusts the bellows instead, feeding the fire until it roars. The hammer falls. Silence stretches between strikes. The dwarf finally speaks without lifting his head. "Perhaps."
That answer sits heavy in my chest.
"I've forged restraints strong enough to hold a werewolf," Hrolf says quietly. "But never a vampire."
