Chapter 4 – Rowan
ROWAN
“Absolutely not.” Alita’s slight frame blocks me from following the small unit of soldiers into the throne room to address the “visitor,” as General Winthrop calls him.
Irritation burns through me, and I steel my spine. “I have every right to be in that room, Alita.”
“It is not the proper place for a princess.” My governess’s face clearly displays distaste, and her disgust grows as she observes the mud still caked to my body and boots from the road.
I fold my arms across my chest. “The throne room is not the proper place for a princess?”
“Not this afternoon, it isn’t.” Alita’s face flames a deep shade of red at my insolence. Her cheeks might even turn purple. She starts toward the stairs, abandoning her stance in front of the doorway, certain I’ll be a good little princess, as usual, and follow.
But I’m about to be sent away, so I don’t really feel like being a good little princess right now.
As soon as Alita is far enough away that I know she can’t grab me, I waltz straight into the throne room, chin held high.
“Rowena Vivietta Valrose!” my governess shouts in disbelief.
“Just add a few more switches to my punishment, Alita,” I call back over my shoulder. “The only way I’m leaving this room is if you drag me out.”
“That can be arranged,” General Winthrop murmurs quietly as I pass him, a deep frown on his face.
My eyes narrow. “I’d like to see you try, General.” I continue through the room and up the carpeted steps of the dais, sliding into the seat beside Riven, who’s watching the entire exchange with a smirk on his face.
The general mutters his annoyance, but the prisoner waiting before us interrupts any subsequent retort by speaking up.
“I’d like to see that too.”
“Shut up.” The soldier guarding the man gives him a hard shove, but it doesn’t deter the dazzling grin he shoots my way.
“Everybody settle down.” Fel’s deep, commanding tone echoes through the cavernous space as he sweeps into the room, his sharp eyes taking in the brewing tension until they fall on me.
“Rowan—” he starts, and I give him a hard look, just daring him to kick me out, “—can stay.” He gives me a small nod, and I smile.
I missed my brother. But the entire thing still grates on me. As much as I appreciate Fel backing me up, I shouldn’t need his permission.
Still waiting impatiently by the door, Alita throws up her hands, a distinct sound of disapproval emanating from her before she turns and stalks out of the throne room. Her heels click loudly against the marble floor as she goes.
The general looks as though he has more opinions on the matter, but wisely keeps his mouth shut. The sight of his red cheeks and tight jaw makes it hard to contain the smug smile that threatens to escape me.
“Do you have to be difficult in everything?” Riven asks, leaning in, his voice a whisper so only I can hear him.
My eyes stay trained on the general when I give my answer. “Yes.”
My twin leans back, exhaling. Forever my greatest ally, he doesn’t always understand. All three of us had been born at the table, but only Fel and Riven were offered a seat. I’ve had to fight for mine since the day I was born.
Fel takes his seat on the dais beside us, and at his behest, the soldiers half-drag, half-push the prisoner forward.
I steal the opportunity to study him, recognizing the Kovarian crest on his armour: a sword pointed down, with white wings flaring out from either side.
And through all the dirt and mud, the silver, white, and blue of his uniform peeks through.
My eyes trail up to his rounded ears until they land on those bright blue eyes.
Human.
“What can I do for you, Your Highness?” The man’s eyebrows fold forward. “Highnesses?” he questions before giving a little shrug, addressing all of us before bowing deeply—too deeply—mockingly deeply.
I arch a brow.
One of the guards leans forward and smacks the back of his head again. “You’re to speak only when spoken to.”
The man reaches up to rub the side of his head with the back of his hand, his hands still bound. I catch the slight smirk on his face before it disappears, his eyes finding mine again.
He knew that. He’s familiar with court etiquette; most are not.
“What is your name?” Fel asks, his voice deep and in command, every bit the Crown Prince of Sitara right now.
The man turns his attention to my brother with a look of exaggerated confusion on his face, making a slight gesture toward his chest, as if confirming Fel was talking to him.
“It is Theo, Sire.” He takes his gaze down to the floor. Still taking it just slightly too far for it to truly be respectful.
“Is that a last name or a first name, Theo?” Fel asks, his mouth a thin line, unamused with the Kovari scout’s attitude.
“It is the only name. Sire,” he tacks the honorific on at the end, but his tone remains in jest as if still not recognizing the seriousness of his situation.
“Well, Theo, is it?” Fel leans forward in his seat. “Do you care to tell me what in the hells you were doing in my forest?”
Theo looks thoughtful for a moment, as if actually considering the question and whether or not to answer it. “No, I don’t believe I do, Sire.”
Fel doesn’t move, but his jaw ticks slightly. There’s a beat of silence while he studies the scout. “Is this a joke to you, Theo?” There’s a dangerous edge to my brother’s voice that wasn’t there before.
“No, Sire.” Theo’s expression appears serious—yet not at the same time.
Riven shifts in his seat, and Theo’s eyes flicker to him, holding his gaze. Unabashed. Unintimidated. His blue eyes still sparkling.
But Fel has had enough. He waves to the guards at Theo’s back. “Take him down to the cells for further questioning.” The guards haul the man roughly to his feet, dragging him from the room.
My eyes trail them out. Theo notices my stare and shoots me another wink.
I shake my head, marveling at the man’s audacity.
Riven notices. The glower on his face evident as he glances between the two of us, looking like he might call them back, but I wave him off. No harm done.
“If he winks at you again, I’ll personally remove those pretty little eyes of his.”
“Stop being dramatic,” I sigh, though my worry for the prisoner grows.
“He’s asking for it,” Riven grumbles, looking like he’s still half debating chasing after the Kovari scout.
Once they’re gone, Fel sits back on his throne, his shoulder sagging slightly. He looks up to address the general. “We found him about a mile south of Rosecliff, scouting a position with a couple of other men.”
The general’s disinterest couldn’t be clearer. “Just kill him and be done with it. He’s a scout, nothing more. It’s unlikely we’ll get anything useful out of him.”
“That’s not true,” I hear myself interjecting.
All eyes turn to me.
The look on the general’s face says he might just want to flay me alive for adding my two cents, but I continue, all too aware of the room’s attention on me. “He’s not just a scout.”
The male standing next to the general—Breck, I think Riven called him earlier—snickers. “Not a scout? Of course, he’s a scout! We found him in the woods—scouting.” He shakes his head and rolls his eyes, looking at my brother, waiting for him to dismiss me.
“He might have been scouting.” I emphasize the word just as he had, and his dark eyes slide venomously back to mine.
“But he’s not a scout.” Holding up my fingers, I tick them off as I continue.
“His mannerisms, his court knowledge, not to mention the man’s flagrant disregard of royal protocols, his armour—it’s too nice for the lowest ranking position in the ranks—and, of course, the overall air of entitlement and smug-ass attitude.
” My gaze moves to my older brother. “He’s not just a scout.
He’s noble. Or if not noble, then very close to nobility. ”
The general grunts and waves me off, dismissing my assessment. “He’s a cocky foot soldier who thinks he knows everything. I’ve seen it a thousand times.”
My jaw ticks.
Fel, who’s stayed quiet until this point, speaks up.
“We’ll hold him for now. Question him. I want to know why Kovaria is scouting so far east. And I want him alive—for now, anyway.
” His gaze falls on the general, who looks as if he wants to argue but thinks better of it, giving Fel a curt bow of his head at the orders before turning on his heel, marching out of the room, and taking his soldiers with him. But not without a farewell glare at me.
“Always a pleasure, General!” I call out to his back.
The large man pauses, his shoulders tense, but he doesn’t turn, then strides more stiffly to the exit.
“Rowan—” I turn to my right to find Riven wiping his face with his hand and Fel doing his best to hide a small smile.
The corner of my lip twitches upward. “Come on, you can’t tell me that wasn’t a little fun.”