14. Roan
Roan
Morning comes slowly, dragging pale light through the tangled branches above. I sit on the edge of the clearing, sword across my knees, eyes locked on the dying fire. My muscles ache from tension more than exertion, jaw sore from clenching all night.
Selis is gone. Good riddance. The space she occupied still feels tainted by her presence.
Behind me, Aria stirs, the rustle of her cloak loud in the brittle silence. My throat tightens as I remember Selis’s voice from the night before, low and teasing: You’re braver than you look. The way Aria’s brows pinched in confusion, unaware of the undercurrent in those words. Oblivious to how Selis’s attention had latched onto her like a predator testing new prey.
“Didn’t sleep much?” Aria asks softly as she wakes.
“Didn’t need to,” I reply, too curtly. I regret it the moment the words leave my mouth.
“Is she gone?” she asks after a beat.
I grunt in response, not trusting myself to say more.
Aria exhales, the sound soft—relieved, maybe. That shouldn’t make me feel anything, but it does. My grip tightens on my sword.
She sits beside me, folding her legs neatly beneath her, her body close but not touching. We watch the embers in silence, the quiet settling thick between us.
After a moment, she lifts a hand to her hair, fingers combing through the dark strands, untangling them absently. I’ve caught myself watching her do this before—how the light catches in the dark waves, how she tucks errant curls behind her ear with a practiced motion.
But this morning, I don’t let myself look.
“She knew you well,” Aria says cautiously, her voice threading through the quiet like a careful stitch.
I press my thumb against the pommel of my sword, grounding myself in the familiar feel of steel.
“We worked together. A few contracts,” I say, nothing more.
“She seemed... interested.”
My gut twists. I stare at the ash and grit my teeth. “Selis is always interested in whoever she can unsettle. Don’t mind her.”
We don’t usually press each other for more than we’re ready to give. That’s been the unspoken rule between us from the start—our stories offered up like spare coins, never demanded. I expect Aria to let it drop.
But she doesn’t.
There’s a pause, and then, quietly, “Well, she talked about you a lot.”
The sword scrapes as I snap it into its sheath and stand. My pulse thunders in my ears. “Why did you even talk to her? She’s not safe. People like her... they don’t care about anyone but themselves.”
Aria’s eyes widen. “I barely spoke with her, Roan. Besides, she was far more interested in you than me… What’s wrong?”
I rake a hand through my hair and turn away, pacing along the edge of the clearing. My chest is too tight, my thoughts too tangled. “Nothing. I just—” My jaw flexes. “Forget it.”
Silence falls, thick and heavy. I know she’s watching me. Waiting for me to explain. But how do I tell her the truth?
How do I tell her that I hated seeing Selis here?
Not because of who she is, but because of how she looked at Aria .
Like she was something to be figured out, a puzzle to solve with amusement curling at the edges. Like she was something to test—poke, prod, see what makes her react.
Like she was something Selis could have if she wanted.
And gods, the way she smiled at her—lazily, knowingly, like she already had the answer. Like she’d seen the way Aria tucked close to me by the fire, the way I always positioned myself between her and anything that might be a threat, and thought, That’s interesting.
Like she could take her.
Like I wouldn’t kill for her.
And that’s the worst part. Because I would.
I know exactly what kind of person Selis is—how she tests people, presses too close just to see them squirm, takes what she wants simply because she can. I’ve seen it before, been on the receiving end of it more times than I care to admit.
And I’ll be damned if I ever let her try it with Aria.
I grip the hilt of my sword and force my jaw to loosen before I crack a tooth.
Because how do I tell Aria that I wanted to tear Selis apart for even looking at her?
I turn away from the fire. My pulse hasn’t settled since Selis rode into camp, all easy smiles and casual familiarity. It should’ve been a brief annoyance—a flicker of the past, easily snuffed out.
Instead, it’s lodged beneath my skin like a splinter.
“Roan?” Aria’s voice cuts through the quiet, cautious but steady.
I clench my jaw and run a thumb along the sword’s edge. “Aria.”
She doesn’t move. I can feel her eyes on me, sharp and searching. “Are you…well?”
I let out a short, humorless breath. My hands are still tight with the urge to rip something apart.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” I say, forcing my voice to stay even.
Her fingers twitch against her knee, like she wants to reach out but thinks better of it. “You’ve been tense ever since she showed up.”
Tense. That’s a polite word for it.
I grip the hilt tighter. “She’s gone. Doesn’t matter now.”
Aria shifts on her feet, arms wrapping around herself. Her hair, still mussed from sleep, falls into her eyes. “You don’t mean that.”
“Does it matter what I mean?” The words come out harsher than I intend.
Aria blinks, hurt flashing across her face. “Of course it matters. You were...different when she was here. Closed off.”
“Was I?” I sheath the sword with a metallic snap and start pacing. My boots crunch over the brittle leaves. “Seems like you got along fine with her.”
“ What? ” The disbelief in her voice makes me pause. “Roan, I barely said three sentences to her. I didn’t know what to say,” Aria stammers. “She kept asking me questions about us. About you.”
“And you answered.” I regret the accusation the second it leaves my mouth, but it’s already hanging there between us, sharp and ugly.
Aria recoils like I slapped her. “I didn’t tell her anything important. I didn’t know it would... upset you.”
“I’m not upset,” I snap, even as my pulse hammers harder with the lie.
Her eyes narrow. “You’re standing there gripping your sword like you want to cut down the next person who breathes wrong. So, yes, I’d say you’re rather upset.”
I bark out a laugh. “What would you know about it?”
She goes still. I can see the moment the hurt shifts into something colder. “Apparently, not much.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and turn away. The last thing I want to do is lash out at her, but the storm in my chest won’t settle. Selis’s voice lingers: First time traveling with a mercenary, huh? Brave or foolish. I remember Aria’s nervous smile, the way she answered without realizing she was being sized up.
The memory makes my teeth clench.
“I didn’t want to talk to her,” Aria says after a long pause. Her voice is quiet but sure. “She made me uncomfortable. I thought you saw that.”
I exhale slowly. “That’s what she does. She makes people uncomfortable.”
“But you’re angry at me.”
“I’m not angry at you.” I rake a hand through my hair. “I’m angry at myself.”
The honesty slips out before I can stop it.
Aria steps closer, her eyes searching mine. “Why?”
I want to tell her. Because I care too much. Because the idea of someone like Selis in the same vicinity of you makes my skin crawl, and the idea of Selis getting close to you makes me want to draw blood. Because I haven’t felt like this about anyone in years, and it terrifies me.
Instead, I shrug. “She got under my skin.”
Aria’s expression is unreadable. Then, after a moment, she sighs. “She was trying to.” Her voice is soft but firm, like she’s stating an undeniable fact. “You didn’t have to let her.”
That lands sharper than I expect. I don’t know how to answer, so I don’t.
Aria exhales, then stands, brushing dirt from her palms. “I’m going to wash up,” she says, tilting her head toward the faint sound of running water beyond the trees.
She walks away, leaving me standing there with my heart racing and my mouth dry. I want to call her back, to tell her that Selis was never what mattered.
She was. Aria.
But the words stay locked behind my teeth.