Chapter 41 – Rowan
ROWAN
The day drags on, the late afternoon bringing a bit of frost in the air.
But I feel better.
The worst of the red fever symptoms have eased. The dizziness no longer threatens to dump me from the saddle with every other step.
And I’ll never admit it… but I’m thankful that I’m not fighting for my life behind Dash for the day.
But as my symptoms and crushing exhaustion fade away, they’re replaced with something else… boredom.
And pain.
We’ve been riding for hours—all day. Apparently, Ayer is attempting to make up some of the lost time from yesterday by not stopping for breaks today. My body aches, sore from both the journey and the saddle. It’s becoming increasingly difficult to sit still.
Ayer is silent as we ride, and after all the excitement of this morning… it’s nothing but trees and dirt—and more trees and dirt.
I first attempt to distract myself by trying to loosen the ropes still tied tightly around my wrists. I move carefully—as discreetly as possible to avoid Ayer’s notice, using the pommel of the saddle in front of me for leverage.
Gods, Ayer tied them so tight today. Blood stains my skirts, the skin even more irritated after days of abuse.
If I could loosen them… just a smidge...
Determined, I place my hands on either side of the saddle’s pommel, attempting to force it between the ropes, hoping to create just a little bit of space. But I have to be subtle; I don’t want to catch Ayer’s attent—
“Stop it.”
After being silent for hours, his sudden bark right next to my ear, and my resulting flinch, nearly sends me careening to the ground.
But his arm wraps around my waist just in time to keep me in place.
I recover quickly, gripping the saddle like it’s all I was intending to do the entire time.
“I didn’t do anything.” My words pour out far too rushed to be completely innocent.
At my back, Ayer just clears his throat, which says as much, but he doesn’t argue the point.
Another long stretch of silence follows as dusk falls upon us.
It’s not long before boredom sets in again, and after about an hour of thinking about it, I reach for a lock of Dash’s mane. I let the long, silky strands run through my fingers several times before I start to braid them.
“Don’t do that.”
Seeing as how my actions are innocent this time, I don’t bother hiding the irritation in my voice when I respond. “Do you have a problem with everything?”
Strangled laughter comes from our left—where Wyatt’s been riding. When I turn my head to look at him, he’s giving Ayer a sideways glance, nudging his horse faster to put more distance between us.
“War horses don’t have braids in their manes,” Ayer grumbles.
“Why not?”
“Because they... don’t.”
I roll my eyes. “It’s not braids. It’s a braid. And I think it looks good.” I finish the braid, tying it off with a strand of Dash’s hair at the end.
“Take it out.”
“No.”
It’s a risk testing him like this. I’m not sure how far I can push him before he dumps my ass right back on the ground behind his horse. But I’ve got to be getting close.
The deep sigh behind me suggests he’s considering it too. “I think I liked it better when you didn’t talk.”
The corner of my mouth twitches up, despite myself. Perhaps I can annoy the broody captain to death.
I open my mouth but freeze—the skin along my arm prickling suddenly with unease. Snapping my mouth shut, my eyes dart around the surrounding forest.
There’s no way to explain it other than to say… something just feels off.
The forest is thicker here… darker—the sunlight blocked by the heavy canopy of trees up above, and it’s quiet. Memories of the tree monster flash in my mind, and I stiffen in the saddle, listening closely.
I hear no birds, no frogs, nor any other woodland animal noises, even with my elevated fae hearing; it’s just… silence.
My eyes scan the surrounding woods as my nerves alight. Dash picks up on it, his steps quickening below.
Are the shadows moving? Or am I just being paranoid?
“What is it?” Ayer asks, noticing my sudden change in demeanor.
“The quiet—” I whisper, keeping my eyes on the trees, still unsure if I’m just being paranoid.
Ayer’s body tenses against my back, and he lets loose a long, low whistle.
Not a soul glances back or even changes their pace, but something spreads through the air. The whistle was a warning.
Ayer’s arm tightens around my waist; I hadn’t even noticed it still wrapped around me. Slowly, he slides me backward in the saddle until I’m flush up against his chest—securing me, should we need to make a run for it.
My back rests against his warm leather armour, my hips bracketed firmly between his own.
I keep as still as possible, wanting to avoid accidentally grazing something I shouldn’t.
My pulse beats a frantic rhythm in my chest, but I’m not sure if it’s because of the enemy captain’s proximity at my back—or what might await us in the dark.
A bit of both, I suppose.
I turn my head, hoping to steal a glance behind us, but a low whisper in my ear freezes me in place.
“Just keep looking ahead,” Ayer murmurs in my ear as Dash plods along at an easy gait. “Act… natural.”
Natural. I almost laugh. There’s nothing natural about being stuck on a horse with the enemy captain who kidnapped you.
I don’t call him on it though, instead forcing my attention back down to Dash’s mane. With shaking fingers, I pick up another thick lock of hair, braiding it carefully.
My fear feels like lightning trapped beneath my skin.
The odds of who or what is stalking us being friendly are low.
And even if they were—maybe even someone sent to help me—Ayer’s grip on me is firm. And I’ve never been more certain that if it comes down to it, he’ll kill me himself rather than allow me to be rescued.
A shout sounds from the front, and my gaze snaps to the bend in the trail ahead.
A line of men appears, all of them dressed in armour—like a unit, but I don’t recognize the colors or banners.
My heart only falls a little when I don’t see the familiar Sitari white and gold or even the black and gray of Skye. I don’t want anyone dying for me today.
No, the soldiers ahead are dressed in brown with bronze armour and, despite drawing their swords, they have not yet launched an attack. Instead, they block the road entirely, forcing Ayer’s contingent to come to a halt.
The second we come to a stop, more soldiers pour out of the trees, bronze armour flashing through the shadows. It’s an ambush. My heart stops when I catch sight of their ears…
Tapered ears.
Fae—they’re fae.
Shocked, I search for anything familiar or reassuring, but when I meet their eyes, they’re anything but friendly. In fact, when they notice me, a hunger appears in them that sends a chill straight down my spine, driving me further back into Ayer’s chest.
The Kovari men clash with the onslaught of fae soldiers, sword on sword in the tight space.
We are outnumbered.
Ayer hangs back, his arm locked tight around me as his men fend off the attack. He pulls Dash backward, creating more distance between us and the fight.
But I can still see everything.
The fae have the obvious advantage: they’re bigger, stronger, and more agile.
But the Kovari men move and attack as a team.
They keep a tight formation, and it’s immediately clear this is a group of soldiers who know one another well—a group of soldiers who have fought many a battle side by side and have each other’s back.
They hold the line.
Ayer shouts out orders, smart and controlled, but the fae soldiers keep coming—spilling from the trees and flooding the narrow trail.
The road is narrow here, and the vegetation thick. There’s no room for anything but close-quarters combat. Sword on sword, the sharp clang of metal and shouts fill the air.
A fae soldier manages to break through the line, surging toward us. He’s fast, dodging Ayer’s men and their attempts to block him. The male charges straight for us, his blade raised, his dark eyes fixed on me.
I scream, but he doesn’t make it five feet. A knife whistles past, finding a new home in the fae soldier’s forehead. I watch in wide-eyed horror as the male crumples to the ground—dead before he even hits the dirt.
I’m too caught up in the shock of it all to notice Ayer dismounting behind me, until he’s pulling me down with him.
Death.
Everywhere—surrounding us. Blood soaking into the dirt, bodies litter the narrow path.
Ayer spins me where I stand, turning me away from the brutal fight to face him. My breath stutters when I meet his gaze. Staring down at me is the face of the Kovari captain, his jaw hard, and his eyes cold.
My eyes drop, catching the movement as he reaches for his belt, pulling a knife free.
Mine.
It’s mine.
I recognize the carved gold rose on the hilt instantly.
Gods, is he going to kill me with my own blade?
Panic spikes and I try to step back, but he catches hold of the rope binding my hands and drags me back, bringing the sharp end of the blade closer, slipping it between the ropes—a quick slice.
The ropes fall away, and in the same moment, he releases his hold on me.
Flipping the knife mid-air before pressing the hilt into my palm.
I stare up at him, and the look he gives me is severe. I stare into the dark depths of his eyes, which seem to darken further, wild with rage.
“Don’t die.” That’s all he says before he grips hold of Dash’s reins, spinning him before slapping the horse hard on the rump, sending the stallion careening into the forest. And then his back is to me, already engaging the nearest fae soldier in battle.
I’m frozen where I stand, gripping the dagger tightly in my hands as my eyes dart around the chaotic scene before me.
Do I fight?
Should I run?
Ayer’s company only has fifteen men. The fae have nearly double, but the humans have managed to hold the line against them. The tight space has only proven to be an advantage as it keeps them together, forcing the fae to fight them one on one.
Stay or run.
I don’t recognize the fae warriors, and their armour—it’s unfamiliar, unmarked with any fae kingdom’s crest. And that one soldier, when he made that run at Ayer and me, there was hate in his eyes. And not for Ayer, but for me. There was no mistaking that his intention was to kill me.
Fae or not, these soldiers are not my friends.
Scanning the fight, I seek out Ayer. He’s in the thick of battle now, moving fast, lethal. He cuts through soldiers as if they’re standing still, striking with brutal efficiency.
I take a hesitant step to my right, edging closer to the dark and empty woods. No one stops me—no one can.
I take one more bold step before breaking into a run, diving between the trees and leaving Ayer, his company—leaving it all behind.