Chapter 11 Rowan
Rowan
Ihate how my hands still tremble hours after the stream. How my skin remembers every place Kai's fingers touched, every whisper of his shadows against my flesh. The worst part is I can't tell if it's fear or something far more dangerous that makes my pulse race whenever I think of what happened.
Ellie sits across from me in our shared tent, her eyes cataloging my appearance with the careful scrutiny of someone assessing battlefield damage. "You look..."
"Don't," I warn, running my fingers through my now-clean hair. The fae attendants provided oils that left it softer than it's been in months. A luxury that feels like a trap. "I don't want to talk about it."
“Did you really tell Theron you want him to watch?”
“I said—”
“—that you don’t want to talk about it,” Ellie mimics. “Even if it’s all the good parts?”
I glare at her.
"Fine." She tosses me a bundle of fabric. "But you should probably get dressed. Dinner with Theron is in an hour, and I don't think your future husband would appreciate you attending in just a towel."
I catch the bundle—a gown of deep emerald silk that flows like water between my fingers. It's beautiful, expensive, and utterly impractical. Exactly the opposite of anything I’ve ever worn in battle ready Eryndor. "Where did this come from?"
"Kyrian brought it." Ellie shrugs. "Said something about making sure you looked the part of a Slait bride."
The word 'bride' sends a fresh wave of nausea through me. I close my eyes, trying to banish the memory of Kai's mouth on mine, his hands on my body, the way my traitorous core responded to him despite everything. "This is insane."
"No argument here." Ellie picks up a small pot of something shimmery. "But if we're going to survive this, we need to play our parts perfectly. So put on the dress, let me do something with your hair, and try to look like you're not contemplating murder every time Kai breathes in your direction."
"I make no promises on that last part."
She laughs, the sound somehow making the tent feel less like a prison. "Fair enough. But maybe save the stabbing for after we're safely out of here?"
I stand, letting the towel drop as I reach for the gown. It slides over my skin like a caress, the fabric clinging to curves that always make me self conscious.
"Stars above," Ellie breathes. "You look like actual royalty. Wait, technically, you are actual royalty. Your aunt being the queen of Eryndor and all.”
“Who knows, maybe this betrothal is the first step to bringing peace to our kingdoms so humans and fae can live in harmony from hence forth.” I bring my hands together piously and flutter my lashes.
Ellie snorts. “I honestly don’t even know what Eryndor would do if we weren’t at war.
” She picks at a thread on the comfortable looking trousers she’s procured while Kai and I were putting on our show.
“Do you think it’s true, what the triad is claiming about the auric alloy and the draken and everything? ”
I sink onto the cushions. “I think they think it's true. Why would the Spire keep the information from us though?”
“Because it might make people hesitate to use the only weapon that gives humans a chance at survival?”
I consider that. It’s… not a bad theory actually.
If auric steel weapons are as debilitating as Kai and Kyrian claim, but there is no other choice for human soldiers but to use them, it would make sense to keep the distressing information from public knowledge.
Ignorance certainly made me feel better about improving the alloy potency.
“The fact remains though—if the fae would like to stop their auric steel problems, the easiest way to accomplish that would be to stop attacking Eryndor. And if the draken are so terribly affected, then—once again—the simplest solution is to stop penetrating our air space.”
Ellie finishes up my makeup and motions for me to stand so she can examine her handiwork.
I comply, smoothing the emerald silk against my hips, and make my way to where a polished silver mirror leans against a tent pole.
As I step in front of it, the world suddenly tilts sideways.
A wave of dizziness crashes over me, making the tent spin in sickening circles.
I stagger, my ankle twisting painfully as I try to catch myself.
"Whoa!" Ellie darts forward, catching my arm just before I collapse. "What happened?"
"Nothing," I lie, blinking rapidly as black spots dance across my vision. My head pounds with the familiar pressure that warns of worse to come. "Just stood up too quickly."
"That wasn't 'stood up too quickly.' That was 'about to pass out on the floor.'" Ellie's brow furrows with concern. "Maybe we should ask about a healer. The fae must have someone who can—"
“ —boil me from the inside out accidentally on purpose?” I rub my temples.
My head hurts. Of course it does. “Given what they think I’m going to their shifters, I’d give any Flurry healer a fifty-fifty chance of using their access to extract vengeance as try and help.
Plus, this is part of the course of being me.
Once I can gather the ingredients for my tonics, it will get better.
” I hope. Things seem to be progressing faster on this side of the wards.
I give myself another minute to reclaim some semblance of equilibrium then return my attention to the mirror—only to blink in confusion as I try to recognize the woman staring back at me.
The cloth shimmers like water each time the light catches it right, and is cut in the fae style—all flowing lines and strategic absence of fabric.
In practice this means a plunging neckline that exposes the curve of my breasts and a slit that climbs dangerously high up my thigh.
The sleeves, which are the only truly opaque part of the outfit, drape elegantly from my shoulders, leaving the line of my collarbones bare, while the back dips low enough to make me acutely aware of every breath of air against my spine.
It's the kind of dress designed to entice, to draw the eye and hold it captive.
I can already feel the weight of stares.
Ellie’s work with cosmetics only furthers the illusion.
My eyes look larger, brighter. My hair falls in soft waves around my shoulders, and the gown's deep emerald color makes my skin glow almost luminously.
Even my scars seem less pronounced, somehow transformed by Ellie's deft hand into something that enhances rather than diminishes.
I look... fae without the pointy ears. Or at least, what a human might aspire to when trying to match their ethereal beauty.
I turn away from my reflection before I can start believing it myself. "I look like a lie."
"The best lies contain a grain of truth." She moves behind me, her fingers working through my hair with practiced efficiency. "And the truth is, you're stronger than any of them realize. Including your shadow prince."
My shadow prince. The possessive phrase makes my stomach clench.
"He's not mine." But even as I say the words, I remember the gentleness in Kai's touch as he cleaned me afterward, the careful way he shielded me from prying eyes with his shadows.
The tenderness that felt more dangerous than his rage.
I tug at the neckline that dips lower than anything I've worn before. "This is ridiculous."
"You look beautiful," Ellie corrects, adjusting a fold of fabric at my hip. "And more importantly, you look like you belong on a prince's arm. Now, just try and keep upright. Oh, and remember to breathe. That helps too."
"Breathing isn't the problem. Not strangling Kai is the problem.”
A throat clears outside our tent. "I can hear you, Ainsley."
Kai. Of course. His timing, as always, is impeccable.
"Good," I call back. "Then consider yourself warned."
Ellie rolls her eyes at me before heading to the entrance.
She pulls back the flap to reveal Kai standing there in formal attire—a midnight blue tunic with silver embroidery that makes his ice-blue eyes look even more striking.
His hair is pulled back, exposing the sharp angles of his face.
He looks every inch the fae prince he is, dangerous and beautiful in equal measure.
I hate how my heart stutters at the sight.
"Ready?" he asks, his gaze sweeping over me in a way that makes my skin heat despite myself. The way my body longs to believe every lie Kai projects is becoming a problem.
“Does it matter?”
“No.”
“Wonderful. Lead the way.”
Kai extends his arm, and I take it reluctantly, feeling the solid muscle beneath my fingers. His shadows curl around my wrist like a possessive caress. Or a shackle to ensure I don’t make a run for the tree line.