Chains of Moonlight Chapter Seventeen

Veremund was haunted.

He could have kissed her.

He’d almost kissed her.

If he had, surely this would be over. He’d have gotten her spilling her secrets before the night was over. And despite how much he’d wanted to, no matter how scandalous it would be, his churning stomach and the heavy stone weight in his chest had shifted his course.

It didn’t matter if she was halfway or completely in love with him. As horrific as this scheme was, he wasn’t quite so devoid of honor as to kiss her when it was all fake. Knowing he did one right thing in the midst of this masquerade didn’t mean he wasn’t spending half the time wondering what it would have been like if he had the hadn’t turned his face at the last second.

She was supposed to be an obstacle to be cleared and disposed of. She was a tool he was using to prove his superiority and further his plans.

He’d made a vow he would never break.

And yet, holding her in his arms was the most pleasant agony he’d ever known. Holding her was even better than he’d imagined when he’d first seen her curled beneath in his cloak. Her head buried in his chest was a sensation he was determined to memorize. He couldn’t sleep with the feeling of her chest shifting against his with each breath. All he could do was stare down at her peaceful expression, turning over every possible way he could leave this cell and preserve her life.

When Emmerich returned for him next, it was the first time Aesira did more than watch. This time, she grabbed at the bars, beating her wings against the empty air as the guards hauled him to his feet. Her mouth opened and closed, trembling.

He should see if she would give as impassioned a defense of him as he had her, but the way she was clutching the bars, she might as well have reached into his chest and been clutching his heart. He called out, “I’ll be fine! Don’t you worry about me!”

The guard to his left cuffed him in the ear for it.

In the interrogation room, Emmerich asked him, “Did it work? Do you have what you need?”

Veremund swallowed, heart crawling up his throat. He couldn’t let Emmerich see through him. He was going to have to come up with a reason to keep her alive and fast.

If Emmerich or his father thought for a second he wanted to keep her alive based out of his own desires, it would be as good as killing her himself.

But right now, all he could say was, “Almost.”

“Almost? Almost? Your two weeks are up. What part of that don’t you understand? What exactly are you waiting for? People are starting to notice how long you’ve been gone. Lady Irma won’t stop talking about it every time I see her. Rainulf even deigned to actually ask me when you were supposed to return.” Emmerich crossed his arms. “I know you’re certainly not enjoying this part.”

Emmerich’s voice twisting immediately sent off warning bells in Veremund’s mind. He kept his voice cold. “What are you implying?”

Emmerich braced one hand against the top of the still broken chair that Veremund hated looked at. “Do you have another reason why this is taking so long? I’m just wondering if maybe you don’t want this to be over.”

Veremund crossed his arms. Emmerich was just guessing. He couldn’t know anything. “Why wouldn’t I want this to be over? I’m a crown prince who is covered in his own filth and living in a cell off of scraps of food.”

“Look, I’m not saying she’s my type—or the type of any respectable elf—but even I can’t deny it is tempting to get distracted.”

Veremund lunged forward, grabbing Emmerich by the collar and jerking him forward. “If you’re implying I’ve done anything improper—”

Emmerich stumbled, kicking the chair as he reached up pulling Veremund’s fingers from his collar while he raised the other defensively. “I’m not saying you’ve done anything, only that I understand how easy it could be to spend more time looking than interrogating. If you got rid of the wings and can look past that gnarled hair and all the grime she’s been rolling in, I’m sure there’s some kind of appeal there. Even if there wasn’t, the valkyries dress like harlots, and you’ve had nothing else to look at.”

Veremund kept his fists at his side despite every word from his brother’s mouth disparaging his honor calling for a black eye. “Very well then, let me make myself clear now. There has been nothing of the sort. In fact, I am the only one who has had the decency to cover her up. Unlike some, I have enough self-control not to be ruled by any baser instincts.”

Emmerich shrugged. “Alright, fine, have it your way. You’re more honorable than most of us, and my apologies for impugning it. But… if that’s not the case, then what is taking so long?”

“She doesn’t trust easily.” Veremund took a deep breath. He had to keep diverting Emmerich’s attention. “That’s all. It takes time to get her affection.”

“Well, you’re out of it.” Emmerich’s looked back at the door, lowering his voice. “You’re done. Father has reached his limit and even me taking on all of your usual work isn’t enough. He doesn’t think the valkyrie is worth it.”

Veremund took a long look at his brother, and he could see the bags under his eyes and how he’d lost color over the last few weeks. His eyes were wide, and the sharp, desperate note in the end pierced Veremund.

This couldn’t go on.

“One night. That’s all I need.” Veremund uncurled his fists. “Just give me one more night, and I’ll have the information.”

Emmerich smiled and clapped his hands together. “Wonderful.”

But…

“When I do, I need your word that you won’t let Father have her executed.”

Emmerich dropped his hands. “What use will there be for her after you’ve gotten everything out of her?”

Veremund had just the inkling of an idea…

“You mean outside of the fact she was the princess’ Captain of the Guard and confidant who can provide invaluable insight on her people and their military?” Veremund shot him a pointed look. “Magic. I think the valkyries have magic, and if they do, it changes everything. If her people are joining the war, I want her alive so I can find out everything I can about what else her people are hiding.”

Emmerich leaned in. “Have you seen her do any?”

“Not yet. She’s said a few things that seem to imply they don’t use it often and it’s not known outside of their people. If so, it troubles me as to what it could be if an entire populace can hide their magic that long.”

Emmerich nodded slowly. “I might be able to convince Father, but it will all hinge on what you find out.”

“You’re the only one who can get a promise like that from him.” Veremund gestured toward the door. “And you better get me back in there.”

Emmerich rolled up his sleeves and cracked his knuckles with a heavy sigh. “You know what I have to do first.”

Veremund endured it. He didn’t fully blame Emmerich for it. If he had the chance to freely release the decades of pent-up resentment between them, he would take advantage of it too.

Instead, all Veremund got was the chance to tell Aesira how much of a brat he was.

So when Veremund was dragged back into the dungeon, his were eyes shut, but he could hear her wings nervously brushing across the ground as the guards dumped him in his cell.

He steeled his heart. He couldn’t let himself get distracted anymore. He couldn’t draw this out anymore. She was in love with him. She had to be. After all this time with only each other, him coaxing her out beyond her feathered shell, any woman would be.

He opened his eyes as the guards were halfway to the door. Aesira was kneeling at the bars, facing him, her eyes were wide and so beautifully expressive. While he didn’t love the fear and pain in them, he much preferred how vibrant they were compared to the cold lifeless ones she’d had when they first met.

She had looked dead then. Now she was alive.

And he was going to destroy her. The thought wasn’t nearly as satisfying as it had been at the beginning.

“Ulkos?”

He groaned and rolled onto his front, pushing himself up to his knees. “I’m not dead yet.”

But she didn’t pull back from the bars. Her eyes traced over him. “Not being dead is hardly a victory here.”

He just crawled toward the bars, reaching forward and pushing the bar he’d broken out of the way so he could crawl through the hole. When cutting through it, he hadn’t accounted for her wings, so he was the only one who could go between. But she was there on the other side, immediately pulling him through and looking over his injuries.

He tried to wave her off. “Really, it’s nothing all that bad.”

Her concern was so completely misplaced. Still, she looked over his injuries before wrapping her arms around him, taking care not to aggravate any of his wounds as she sighed. “I knew you would come back. But that doesn’t mean it’s any less agonizing to watch you go.”

She cared so much. How long had it been since he’d let someone care like this? How long had it been since someone had even tried?

He knew. He knew exactly how long it had been.

He was too sore to do anything but sink into her arms. She quickly shifted them so he leaned his back against her front, her arms and legs gently encircling them, as her head rested on his shoulder. Her wings came around them, shielding them from the world.

All he could see was her and her feathers. How could anyone not think they were the most beautiful wings in the world? How could anyone think they took anything away from her?

Her hands came to envelop his, and her fingers and laced through his. Her voice was soft, wrapping around him just as much as the rest of her. “Tell me… what would you give them in order to make it stop?”

His heart ricocheted in his chest. He was so close. Part of him didn’t even want to answer. He just wanted to stay there in her arms. But he forced his eyes open and said, “For myself? Nothing. I especially won’t give them what they want to know to spare myself.”

She turned her head, burying her forehead into his neck. Her voice was muffled. “When will it end? When are they finally going to be done toying with us?”

The lie came so easily from his lips. “I don’t know.”

Her grip on him tightened. He could feel her tears began to soak into his shirt. He shifted slightly, turning his head so he could look down at her, whispering, “You’ve been here even longer.”

“I was trained to withstand torture, but I never thought they’d keep me alive this long,” Aesira whispered.

“Even so, surely you’ve thought about it.” Veremund took a deep breath. “What would you give to make it stop?”

Why had she been so strong for so long? At this point, there was very little Veremund wouldn’t do to make the torture of her finally stop, even if she’d hate him for it. She took a shuddering sob, and he could feel it rock through her whole body, before she looked up at him. “It doesn’t matter what I would give, only what they want me to give.”

This was it.

He whispered, “Why don’t you tell them what they want to know? Surely by now it’s too late for it to be of any use.”

That was a strong possibility. Their spies hadn’t come back with anything, but that could change at any moment. Plus, Ragna could be back safely in Valha’s borders by now. Aesira didn’t have to protect her anymore.

“I can’t.” Aesira’s grip on him tightened, his shirt wrinkling. “You don’t understand. Everyone breaks eventually.”

“You haven’t. I haven’t.”

Aesira was silent.

“Maybe I could understand, if you’d let me.” He could feel her cracking beneath him, and he was disgusted with every soft word that left his lips, trying to break her open further. He twisted in her grip, shifting so he was looking down at her. “Please, let me in.”

She stared down at their joined hands. “I don’t deserve you.”

He reached up, cupping her cheek. “That’s not true.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, tears slipping out that he wiped away but it did nothing against the dirt smudged over her fair skin. Her lips parted in a soft, hiccuping sob. “I don’t. I killed them. I killed her, and before that I was using her. And it didn’t have to happen. I should have listened to Heimir. I shouldn’t have taken the position. He’s better off without being stuck having to take care of me anyway. I should have—”

“Stop blaming yourself when it’s those monsters out there who are the reason we’re here!”

Her eyes snapped open as his voice echoed across the stones.

It wasn’t the kind of conviction one could fake.

He held her face tightly as he whispered, “Please, stop blaming yourself for their deaths. It’s not your fault. All you’re doing is torturing yourself which is exactly what they want you to do.”

“What else am I supposed to do?” Aesira took a shuddering breath.

“Talk to me. Let me in. Let me bear this burden with you.” He ran his fingertips across her skin before pushing her hair behind her ear. “I’m on your side. You can’t talk me out of my feelings for you. Please, you are all I have.”

The words were spilling out, heated and passionate, just like a real Sun Elf.

Right.

He was supposed to be getting her to confess her secrets.

He took a deep breath. “Don’t take that away from me. Help me understand you. I want you. I want to know all of you. Your secrets are my secrets.”

She leaned into his palm, another tear rolling down her cheek. Her lips parted, then pressed together as she took another slow breath. She pulled back and locked eyes with him. “Ulkos… promise me you’ll keep this secret just as much as you’ve been keeping your own.”

He nodded, ignoring the way his stomach dropped. This wasn’t at all like he thought victory would feel like.

“I promise.”

One little lie two-word lie on top of the thousands he’d already told, but it was the loudest.

His word was supposed to mean something. Veremund didn’t make promises he couldn’t keep.

Until now.

Why had he decided this was the only path forward?

But it was too late to turn back now.

Aesira licked her cracked lips, her voice barely a breath. “The reason I was escorting Ragna to the Sun Elves was because she was negotiating terms to provide more assistance to them. Namely, supplies, troops, and personal bodyguards for the royal family.”

The first two Veremund had already presumed had been the case. But the last one?

“Bodyguards?” He sputtered over the word, trying to remember that’s what he’d told her he was. “Are your people’s bodyguards truly so superior to ours?”

She shook her head. “It’s not just because we are physically strong and have the ability to fly, although that does play into it. We don’t get weak when the sun goes down like you do, that helps, certainly. The reason they reached out to us is because they fear the Moon Elves sending in spies and assassins. There are stories that the Moon Elves have the ability to use masks to create illusions so that they can look like a Sun Elf or Star Elf.”

Veremund’s mouth was dry. So his own people’s secrets weren’t as safe as he’d hoped. Did she suspect? Did she have any idea he wasn’t who he’d been pretending to be?

How much of this had really been pretend anyway?

“Do—Do your people have some special ability as to be able to see through that?”

She shook her head, and he had to cover his sigh with a short cough. She didn’t even notice, her eyes half-lidded as she leaned her head back against the wall. “No. But unlike what most of the world believes, my people do have some magic. It’s how I knew you were coming back. It’s how I know every day if I’ll live to see the next. It’s how I knew I wasn’t going to die when the battle was over.”

He’d been gambling, going off a vague hunch and twisting it because it was the only thing he could use, but it was actually true?

“What are you talking about?” Veremund stuttered, pulling her closer, his palm splaying on her waist. “How could you know such things?”

She reached up and gently placed her hand over his heart. “We call it the Death Knell. We sense it every time someone around us is going to die. Sometimes it’s minutes, others hours, the really powerful can feel it up to a day in advance. When Lady Fate is about to take someone, we feel it deep into our bones. It rings like a bell tolling, reverberating through us. That’s why we are offering them bodyguards. We’ll be able to sense when death is near, and hopefully be able ensure it’s not one of them.”

Veremund’s breath came out in a soft, stuttering gasp. Surely, such a thing, even with magic, was impossible. How could someone know the future, even if only in a few minutes or hours in advance?

“That means you’ll know you’re going to die even before it ever happens?”

She nodded. “Ever since I was captured, I kept expecting it, so I would know soon it would be over. They can ask me anything they want. They can do whatever they want to me, but I know they won’t kill me until I feel the Death Knell. I won’t betray my people. I used to be looking for it, until…”

Veremund reached up and held her hand against his heart. He shifted to face her a little better, still encircled in her wings. Would she admit her feelings first? He whispered, “Until…”

“Now I’m terrified that when I feel the Death Knell, it won’t be mine anymore.” Her voice cracked as she squeezed her eyes shut. “It’ll be yours. And if it is, then I’m going to be left alone here again.”

Empty promises rose to his lips, but he let them all slip away, because he’d lied enough for one night. He reached up and gently wiped away the tears from her eyes as he whispered, “It’s not right for you to worry about me.”

She gave him a pained smile. “That’s what you wanted.”

He shook his head, letting his hand cradle her cheek. He whispered, “Not anymore.”

She leaned her head into his palm and closed her eyes. “Well, it’s too late for that.”

“You know, this doesn’t have to end only one way. There could still be a way out for us. Don’t lose hope.”

What was he saying? Why was he saying all of this?

Worse, why did he mean it?

This wasn’t real. This wasn’t him.

But how badly he wished it was.

He wanted it to be his real name on her lips. He wanted to be looking at her through his eyes and not someone else’s.

This was his last chance. She was looking up at him, waiting. If he wanted to kiss her, this was his last chance. His last chance for everything.

But he couldn’t move. He couldn’t do it.

Because if he did, it would be a lie. He’d just be manipulating her for his own pleasure. What little honor he might have left would be shattered.

So Aesira shifted, curling into him now, laying her head on his shoulder. “I’ve been foolish enough so far. I’m not going to add any more to it.”

He held her closer, running his hand across her back. “Then I’ll have enough hope for the both of us. You’re not going to die down here. I’m not going to let it happen.”

Her bitter laugh marked his skin. “I don’t think you have any power over that.”

If only she knew…

He just held her tighter. It was going to be the last time.

He’d won. So why did victory feel so much like defeat?

* * *

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