Chapter 42 – Rowan
ROWAN
Irun until my lungs burn and my legs feel as though they can’t take one more step, coming to a stop inside a small clearing somewhere deep in the woods.
The commotion of the fight has faded away, along with the light. Night has fallen and, by the sounds of it, no one’s followed me—at least not yet. What I do hear is rushing water somewhere close by.
Good. That means fresh water is nearby.
Relief courses through me.
I did it. I actually did it! I got away.
I sag back against the trunk of a large oak, taking a second to catch my breath. The fever broke hours ago, and most of my symptoms have ebbed along with it, but it’s left me feeling hollowed out—weak, shaking, and exhausted.
Running for my life certainly didn’t help.
And it’s freezing. The cold air threatens to leach the last of my energy from my bones with incessant shivering. So cold.
But I don’t dare attempt a fire. Armed only with my dagger, a fire could attract more fae soldiers, Kovari soldiers, or worse…
An image of the tree monster flashes through my mind, and I slowly lift my gaze to inspect the tree at my back—making sure it’s not about to come alive and try to eat me.
Once assured my tree is just your regular old run-of-the-mill tree, I nod off for a bit. I just need a few minutes of rest… Only to startle awake, who-knows-how-long later, to the sound of male voices nearby.
My body tenses, and I tighten my grip on my dagger. I fell asleep holding it. I regret not choosing a more concealed hiding spot. In my exhausted state, I left myself vulnerable where I sit, exposed to anyone who might walk through the clearing.
The voices are so close I remain perfectly still, afraid to even breathe too loudly; the slightest crack of a branch and they’ll hear me. I weigh the risks, uncertain whether to stay or catch them off guard and make a run for it. But ultimately, I don’t get to choose. They find me.
Two large males I don’t recognize stalk into the little clearing; my eyes immediately check their ears.
Relief fleeting for a moment until it dies a quick death the second their eyes land on me and their weapons lift. I find myself staring straight down the end of a pointed arrow.
One of them shouts, and more appear. Five in total. All of whom look far too delighted to see me.
Unease flickers through me, and I rise—slowly—to my feet, my hands raised in front of me. I had quickly sheathed my dagger before they noticed. It’s hidden once again by my skirts.
“Please,” I start, my voice soft—pleading, hoping to appeal to their better nature.
I clear my throat to increase my volume.
“I need help. I was a prisoner of the Kovarian army, but I escaped. They’re—they’re probably tracking me.
” My eyes scan the group, not finding an ounce of compassion or pity in any of their eyes.
A dark feeling sinks into my chest. “I need to find the Iron Fae—Skye.” I make sure to let my voice shake, and to stumble my speech over the last word, keeping my eyes wide with fear.
Not a threat.
Harmless.
In need of help.
One of them—a broad, thickly built male—laughs.
Any remaining hope inside me slips away. Especially when the male in front, the blonde—their leader, from the looks of it—smiles.
It’s not a reassuring smile. No, it’s a smile a snake might make if it were looking at a trapped mouse.
I swallow hard, glancing to either side of them now, searching for an escape route, but the group closes rank. The two at the rear have slowly circled around until I find myself in the middle of a small circle.
The blonde male considers me. “Kovaria rarely keeps fae prisoners.” I try not to squirm when his eyes trail the length of me. The bronze armour they wear catches my eye.
They are from the ambush.
“Where are you from?” the male continues, and I’m thankful for the first time to still be covered in dirt and grime from days of rough travel on the road. I don’t think being recognized as the Princess of Sitara will do me any favors with this crew.
“Sitara,” is all I say, trying to keep my eyes on all five of them at once as they slowly edge closer.
“Kovaria is known to execute their fae prisoners upon capture. You must be very important, or very lucky.” His gaze drags over me again, and his lips curve up. “She is a pretty one, isn’t she, boys?”
They laugh, and my stomach drops into a pool of dread.
One of them licks their lips.
My own lip curls in disgust.
“If they kept her alive, and they hunt her now, still,” the fae male with dark hair next to the blonde speaks up, looking between me and his leader, “I’d bet Kovaria would pay a small fortune to have her back.”
“No—” I choke out, the words giving me a start. I study their armour again: no visible sigils or colors, just that ruddy brown and dull bronze. “But you’re—fae?” I trail off, looking up at the blonde again.
“We’re entrepreneurs,” he corrects, smirking down at me. “And right now, you’re looking like a mighty fine investment.”
Cold understanding settles through me.
“You’re raiders,” I say, narrowing my eyes and dropping all pretense, my voice flat. I’ve never encountered raiders myself, but I’ve heard all the stories. Raiders kept Fel and Riven busy at the border. Particularly Daekhar’s.
Bands of raiders like this group roam the land, scattered across all kingdoms, and are a threat to both humans and fae alike. Known for stealing crops, goods, coin, and even taking slaves to sell for profit—particularly young females.
The blonde draws a knife from his belt, holding my gaze while he lets his fingers trail along the sharp steel edge.
“We heard a rumor that Kovaria captured the Sitari princess in the fall of Rosecliff.” His smile shows too many teeth.
“Feared dead.” He looks me up and down. “They say she’s real pretty too. ”
My back presses harder into the tree as he takes a step closer. His eyes gleam in the moonlight when he tilts his head back toward his friends, though his eyes never leave mine.
“Alive,” he tells them. “She’s worth far more to Miselys breathing.”
Miselys? King Mavros? My eyes narrow, and he laughs.
“Behave, Princess. I’d hate for my men to mistake your resistance for an invitation to have a little fun.”
That’s all I need to hear before I turn—and run.