Page 56 of Boundless
Fenris cursed, getting to his feet, and at the sound of the elf’s voice her uncle Ravost choked out a relieved sound and went to meet him. He got his short—for an Istarii Drakan, anyway—but broad body between Daega and Fenris, his one eye wild and trained on her, waiting for her to make a move. But she was so confused she wasn't inclined to so much as twitch from her position half-pinned under Len.
Her uncle was a solitary and heavily sensitive sort, never quite the same after his turn on the battlefield, who tended to keep well away from the rest of the horde and compose poems and other writings that she didn't quite understand, but that left her with an ache and the vague urge to weep nonetheless. He hadn't even managed to eat meat since the trauma that he'd endured, so why was he now here in the dead of night with a dagger pointed at her and her husband? And had Fenris been about to confirm her suspicions about someone in the elf court wanting her dead?
"Uncle. Please, no one's killing anyone, so untwist your cock and settle down.” She finished extracting herself from Len and resettled on the edge of the bed, digging a knuckle into one of her aching eyes. “It's the middle of the cunting night and if one of you lot doesn't come out with what’s going on in plain Common in the next moment I willnotbe held responsible for any murders that may occur as a result. I'm pregnant and emotionally unstable. No court would convict me. Aye, Len?"
Len chuckled uncomfortably, squeezing her hand. "I-Itdoessound very important, and like we n-need to know whatever it is. F-Fenris, do you mean to say th-there's a conspiracy..."
"To end your life, my prince. Yes."
Daega's horned brow lowered, horror chilling her. "To kill only Len? Not me?"
Fenris bowed his head. "Yes, my desta. The orders were to kill the prince and leave you alive. To make it look as if it was the Istarii Drakan who were behind the attack. Bael made it very clear—"
"I know that name," she snarled, venom dribbling from the corners of her mouth from her overflowing sacs. "He was at the inn. They—" She closed her eyes, her claws lengthening and blood swelling her muscles as the battle trance threatened to take her. "Who else is involved?" she asked with deadly calm, her eyes snapping open to snare Fenris'.
He swallowed, dark eyes wide and pale throat bobbing. "I'm the last left alive now among the guard. I-I made sure none others survived the inn. By that time I'd already decided—getting to know you, to know the prince better, that I couldn't do it. I'd already realized that what I'd been fed wasn't the truth of it. That you're not a monster. That Prince Lenlethael isn't a spoiled brat too weak to rule. And now..." his eyes darted to her uncle's ramrod-straight back, and the rest of it finally fell into place.
She spat the congealing venom that had been pooling, bitter on her tongue, into an abandoned glass and flopped back onto the bed. "Len, please sit on me before I'm tempted to start removing limbs from bodies," she said weakly, uncaring that they were in mixed company and he'd not like doing so. "I do believe Fenris is fucking my uncle."
Len stiffened and squeaked from where he still stood by the bed, but after a long-suffering sigh he made his pardons to the room and gingerly lay down on top of her own sprawled form. They'd discovered somewhat on accident that in her more emotionally sensitive state from the pregnancy that this helped when she was feeling overwhelmed, and she was certainly feeling overwhelmed now. His warmth and his weight settling on her was like a balm that smoothed the ragged edges of her feelings and allowed her to settle into the bounds of her flesh again. She could think, and she could reason, and she could see that beyond her protective urge to shred Fenris to ribbons for putting Len in danger, that actually she had much to thank him for for risking his hide in coming here and turning on his co-conspirators during the attack at the inn.
"You elves move bloody fast," she grumbled, her arms holding tight to her husband as she closed her eyes and concentrated on the sweetness of his scent and the pulse of his heartbeat against her chest. A bit hypocritical, since she'd only waited 24 hours after meeting Len to get him into bed—but they'd already been married, and she thought she was justified in a little hypocrisy for allowing her murderous rage to fizzle out. "You haven't had time to come and say hello to your favorite niece, Uncle, but you've had enough time to win over the cuntiest elf in camp?"
Everyone laughed including, to her surprise, Fenris, though likely more out of relief to see the tension breaking than anything.
"What are you talking about—I said hello to Vrinn this morning," Ravost murmured with a small grin, taking Fenris' arm and leading him to the pair of sitting poufs off to the side, now that the threat had passed.
"Absolutely incredible. Go eat a crate of hoof worms, you miserable old arse," she spat, but she gently eased Len off of her and sat up, allowing them both to take more dignified positions.
"So," she said at last, her eyes landing on Fenris once again. "There's someone out there who wants war. And aims to harm my sweet husband to do it." She squeezed Len’s hand tight, her throat aching as she looked at his delicate features, so dear to her in such a short span of time. She carried the seed of his child in her belly, had cleaved a piece of her heart from her chest and planted it in his own. They might not have realized it at the time, but they’d exchanged spirits as they'd exchanged vows, and if he were to be snatched away from her now it would be a devastation she wasn't sure she could recover from.
"Tell us everything," Len said from beside her, his voice soft but steady, cold as steel in the quiet tent. "Omit no detail. N-no matter how s-small.”
Fenris nodded, pale face ashen and grim. “Of course. Where shall I start, Your Grace?”
Len waved away the other elf’s formality. “Please, just Len. P-perhaps start with wh-who approached you?”
“Jespirr, my—ah, Len. Not long after the wedding was announced, he came to my home and spoke of how the Istarii Drakan had forced the king’s hand for the union, and that he feared for the future of the kingdom. There was…he said that because the prince was…”
“S-spineless and weak?” Len offered wryly.
“Er, yes. Those were about the words, my prince. Len.” Fenris licked his lips, looking between Len and Daega. “He said the king was worried that the prince would be too easily influenced and would bow to the barbarian’s whims. Not—not that I think that, those were Jespirr’s words—”
“It’s alright, lad,” Ravost said softly, patting Fenris’ arm. “We know it’s not you.”
Fenris swallowed, flushing pink, then nodded. “Anyway—then he said that the king was looking for loyal members of the guard to keep an eye on things and do what had to be done. Said I’d get a nice bonus, and my father…he’s not been the same since the war. He—he can’t work. So I agreed to it.”
Len nodded, his hand still clutching hers tight. “And h-how did things progress from there?”
Fenris licked his lips, averting his gaze. “Not much happened, for a time. I was asked to keep an eye on you, and I got a nice clutch of gold crowns for my troubles. Then when Rodrick was putting together the squad escorting you here, I was told to make sure I was on it.” He sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. “The night before we left, someone left a slip of paper under my door with five names: Bannon, Tyras, Helvare, Luthien, and Yarreu.” The five guards who’d perished in the attack at the inn. Daega started when she realized that she recognized one of those names.
“Tyras?” she asked. “Isn’t that one of the council members?”
Len nodded, grim-faced. “It is.” He loosed a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping for just a moment. But then something seemed to resolve in him, and he lifted his chin, meeting Fenris’ gaze. “You keep your life, a-as thanks for the r-risk you took today. But I w-would ask you take a new oath." He stood, pulling his silk robe tighter against his lithe body, his spine straight and his head high and looking every inch the future king of the elves. Sweet Delenaa, theprideshe felt, seeing him like that, so in his element, so strong and poised. "Fenris Galriith," he began, "Do you solemnly swear, under p-pain of death, under wr-wrath of the gods, to protect my Istarii Drakan family with your very life as our esteemed and p-personal guard?"
Fenris blinked, looking shocked and sharing a loaded glance with Ravost. But he rose from his seat and took the knee before Len, pulling the scabbarded sword from the bundle he'd brought and handing it to his prince. "I do. My...my lord. Above all else."
Daega was still learning the elves' ways, still learning the tangled threads that somehow wove into a picture that detailed the reality of the elvish court, but even she knew that those words rang of treason. King Haedelon was highest, that much was easy enough to remember. And Len…he wasn’t correcting Fenris. Daega shivered, suddenly feeling cold.
