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Uncontrollable, her elder brother Silas had once taunted her. Wild.

A gentle hand reached towards her curved blade, the karambit knife, and calloused fingers grazed the inside of her wrist. A whispered touch. The warm hand slowly moved toward her fingers, soft and tender, like he was handling a delicate rose.

‘Rymedur?’

‘Yes, love?’ Those calloused fingers she was so used to feeling against her skin skimmed the edge of the bloodied blade, easing it out of her hand.

‘What are you doing up?’

‘I could ask you the same. I woke to a cold, empty bed. Where did you disappear to, little demon?’

Areanel didn’t answer. Scrunching her brows, she pursed her lips and racked her brain for a decent explanation. She knew he’d understand—he knew what she was, what she had to do—but still couldn’t find it in herself to tell him the morbid truth.

A warmth radiated from behind her as Rymedur pushed his chest into her back. His fingers entwined with hers, rough pads of his thumbs tracing soothing circles against the backs of her hands. ‘My shadows pulled me from my sleep. They were restless, and when they sensed a disturbance, I followed. Only for them to bring me here—to you.’

‘To your son,’ Areanel corrected. Turning in his embrace, her neck strained as she tilted her head to look at his tall, imposing form.

Shining emerald met her bright cobalt gaze, a stunning rarity amongst the elven species. Areanel had always thought Rymedur’s green eyes held an air of mystique and grace, and often found them glistening with unknown emotion, like sunlight filtering through a deep forest. Full of light and love.

Careful fingers tucked a stray raven lock behind her pointed ear. ‘To both of you.’ The combination of his whispered words fanning over her face and the way that he grazed the sensitive point of her ear sent a thrilling shiver down her spine. ‘Did you go alone?’

Areanel’s eyelids fluttered from the way his thumb moved back and forth along her cheek, but she did not miss the way his eyes softened and his brow creased with worry.

Nodding her head, she turned her face into his hand and hummed. ‘Yes,’ she said on a whispered breath. Her throat clogged with a thick torrent of emotions, causing her voice to break.

‘Let’s go get you cleaned up, love.’

Areanel revelled in his steadying presence. Leaning her temple against his, her breath shuddered as she fought to control her emotions. Focusing on his bare feet padding against the floor silently, Areanel followed as Rymedur led them away from their son and towards their shared room. Her throat constricted as she tried to swallow the tears and bile that threatened to break through her carefully built walls.

She did not register entering their room, nor did she register when Rymedur led her into the bathroom and sat her down on a stool.

​Staring into the lifeless eyes of the stranger reflected in the large, rounded mirror, Areanel found herself, yet again, questioning where it all had gone wrong. Blood covered her face and drenched her hands—the same hands she had used to saw through flesh and bone mere hours ago.

The distant sound of running water told Areanel that Rymedur was preparing a bath, but she couldn’t look away from her reflection. She did not recognise herself.

She hated this! Hated going on deplorable missions, the punishment of pain looming if she refused. Time after time. Year after year. Decade after decade. It was as though a chisel was hacking away at her humanity, if she had any left at all. More often than not, Areanel came back from missions numb, like a part of her soul was carved out and died each time.

Gentle hands untied the band keeping her hair from her face. The relaxing feeling of Rymedur running his fingers through her long hair, slow to avoid pulling at the knotted tangles, shifted her focus. Instead, she concentrated on the way the bubbles frothed and how the fragrant lavender soaps filled her nostrils.

Standing, she allowed Rymedur to help remove her bloodied leathers, the movement monotonous. Something they had done a million times before. Areanel held onto Rymedur’s broad shoulders when he knelt before her.

‘You could have sent your spymaster—’ His voice was sudden, startling in the quiet room. Her sharp nails dug into his skin as he continued helping remove her trousers. One leg, then the other.

‘Ryyen is busy.’ She noticed the way a muscle feathered in his jaw at her emotionless tone. Had she done something to anger him? ‘They’re away, and father wanted the job completed as quickly as possible.’ There she goes again, excusing her father’s demands.

Rymedur’s grip on the back of her thighs tightened, and Areanel found herself itching to reach for him. Before she could, he stood. In one fluid motion, he lifted her with one arm at her knees, the other around her waist.

His steps were as steady and sure as his words as he carried her to the tub. ‘The King still believes that the rebels from The North hide among his city walls?’

This close, Areanel could not help but stare at his mesmerising face. Two decades into their marriage, and she still found herself falling into his love. His stern face often sent others running in the opposite direction, but not Areanel. No, she ran towards him. Always.

The long, jagged scar that ran diagonally from the top of his brow through his left eye, ending just below his crow’s feet, seemed to lighten in the room’s candlelit glow. He was handsome. No, not handsome. That word did not do him justice. He was beautiful. Beguiling. Mesmerising in the way that a sunset reflects its orange and red hue upon the calm waves of a lake. The way starlight glitters in the night sky with the promises of tomorrow.

Areanel felt too far from him, even with the way he pressed her close to his bare chest, so she reached forward, moving a lock of midnight blue hair that had fallen in front of his eyes as she leaned further into him. ‘After what happened with my mother and brothers, the king is being cautious.’

Rymedur placed her into the tub, and the water sloshed as he settled behind her. Warmth enwrapped her when he repositioned them, pulling her back into his chest.

She could feel his chest vibrating against her as he scoffed. ‘He’s paranoid.’