Page 47 of The Divine Shallows
Elowyn accepted the vial and removed the stopper, taking a swig and grimacing at the taste. She gestured for another goblet of water, which Finnor provided without hesitation.
“Why are you here?” Elowyn frowned as she struggled to piece together her memory. “The last thing I remember was…”
As pieces of the memory flooded back to her, Elowyn abruptly threw off the heavy blankets covering her and attempted to rise from the bed. However, dizziness overwhelmed her, and she nearly stumbled to the floor before Finnor caught her and guided her back to the bed.
“Princess, you must rest,” Finnor pleaded, voice concerned.
“My sister,” Elowyn gasped, panic seizing her. “I have to get to Elyria. She’s in danger!”
“Princess Elyria is safe. Your father and I received her message and came as quickly as we could,” Finnor reassured her, maintaining acalming timbre. “She’s still in Lochwald witnessing the Lore ofLunaris.”
A memory flickered in Elowyn’s mind, recalling herself lying on the forest floor with her head resting in Elyria’s lap. Vague images of her father’s furious expression, Finnor drenched in blood, and a pack of five grimwolves flashed before her. She strained to recollect further details, but her memory abruptly ended there.
“We were being chased... How did we... How did we escape from the rotting hounds?” Elowyn asked, her expression filled with horror. “You were covered in blood...”
“Prince Caswin and his pack arrived first,” Finnor replied somberly. “They held off the beasts until your father and I reached you.”
“Caswin? The Mirthwood prince? What do you mean?” Elowyn’s confusion deepened with each question.
Finnor appeared unscathed and immaculate, devoid of any traces of blood. Elowyn glanced down and realized she was no longer in her delicate rose-petaled gown but instead dressed in a nightgown, likely provided by the royal mender.
“Prince Caswin is a shapeshifter. Many fey sworn to House Lochwald possess the ability to shift between their fey and animal forms. For Caswin, a grimwolf. He and his pack fought off the rotting canines while we searched for you in the forest,” Finnor explained.
Finnor’s aura seemed fraught with a sense of remorse, as if he bore the weight of failing to protect the princesses of his kingdom at the first sign of danger. His responsibility as the Commander of the Feyguard in Eriden included safeguarding the royal family and all its subjects. Finnor scrunched his brow, as though a pounding headache was beginning to storm.
“Caswin can transform into a grimwolf? I had no idea,” Elowyn remarked, slumping back, and resting her head against the bed frame. “Is that why there’s such a commanding aura about him? Is he the pack leader of allthe grimwolves in Lochwald?”
Finnor let out a soft chuckle. “Almost, but not exactly. King Dren serves as the male alpha, and Queen Maeva as the female alpha of Lochwald, jointly leading their pack. Prince Caswin holds the position of second in command, the beta grimwolf. As the heir of Mirthwood, once his father passes the title to him, he’ll ascend as the male alpha. If he weds another fey capable of shifting into a grimwolf, she’ll become the female alpha. It’s quite rare for females to possess the grimwolf trait, making Queen Maeva exceptionally singular in her prowess.”
“Do the fey of Lochwald have the ability to shift into anything else?” Elowyn inquired, her nerves easing under Finnor’s reassuring tone.
“They do. There are warlocks and sorceresses who can assume various forms of animals native to the Elberrin Forest—stags, hares, hawks, foxes—typically creatures of the woodland. However, inheriting the ability to shift into a grimwolf requires highborn lineage, much like the Fangwrights and their fangs,” Finnor explained, flashing a lopsided grin, his smooth, fangless teeth on display.
“Our fangsarequite exclusive,” Elowyn teased, flashing a bright grin, her four canines peeking through her lips. “You can only possess these beauties if you’re a direct descendant of King Elmyr himself. It’s tough being this special.”
Finnor adopted a playful tone. “Indeed, it’s an honor to bask in your exalted presence, my princess.”
A crooked smile formed on Elowyn’s lips. “Was that a joke I just heard from the reserved Finnor Wynward?”
Finnor chuckled awkwardly, running a calloused hand through his hair. “I suppose so.” His body seemed tense, uncertain of how to respond. He settled back in the chair, fidgeting with his fingers nervously.
“Thank you for coming to our aid,” Elowyn said. “I was terrified. I felt paralyzed, unable to move or think. Once again, Elyria had to protect me.”
“I could teach you how to defend yourself,” Finnor offered. “Especially now, as your father has assigned me as your personal guard.”
“Why?” Elowyn’s posture straightened, unease in her voice. “I’ve never had a guard before. I don’t see why I need one now.”
“Your father trusts no one else with your safety. Tonight has shown that there are threats awakening in Neramyr that could pose a danger to you, to your sister, and to the folk of Eriden,” Finnor explained pragmatically.
“The Elberrin Forest spans for thousands of miles! There are regions that even the fey haven’t ventured into. It’s possible that those creatures were lurking within the forest for hundreds of years already. We’re literally mountains away from Lochwald. I don’t see why my freedom in Eriden needs to be stripped from me,” Elowyn replied sharply.
“It’s precisely because of these dangers that your father insists on your protection. He will not risk your safety,” Finnor responded calmly.
“So, what now?” Elowyn’s gaze bore into Finnor. “Are you going to watch over me while I sleep and follow me everywhere I go?”
Finnor blanched at her clipped tone.
“I’m sorry Princess, I must abide by King Eamon’s orders. And I’m only here at the direction of the royal mender to ensure you’re all right. If you’re feeling better and desire me to leave, I’ll be stationed outside your door if you need me.”
