Chapter 45 – Rowan
ROWAN
Iwake with a violent shiver, startling further at the darkness surrounding me.
Disoriented, I lift my head, cringing immediately away from the heavy pounding inside before somehow finding the strength to push myself up out of the thick mud of the riverbank. My arms strain with the effort.
Gods, what I would do for a feather mattress to sink into instead.
My body is weak and slow to respond, as if the icy water stole away all its energy.
I’m half submerged in water, my clothes soaked through and freezing. The cool breeze of the night air feels like a whip against my skin, eliciting another violent shiver that rips through my entire body.
I glance around.
Trees.
Endless trees.
We’re deep in the forest; the river potentially dragged us miles further south.
I shake off another shiver, crawling further up the river bank until I’m fully out of the water, ignoring the pain screaming through my shoulder.
Glancing back at the river, I can see where the narrow stream of rapids spills out in a rush into a wider basin of water. The current slows into something deceptively calm, the surface of the water glassy, reflecting the silvery glow of the moon high above.
Unrecognizable. It’s so peaceful and serene, despite having just tried to violently drown me.
I cough hard, expelling more water still from my abused lungs, and I can feel every breath I take, each one an extra effort; my body doesn’t quite seem to remember how to breathe properly yet.
I sit there for a long moment while I catch my breath.
My eyes scan the riverbank again, catching on something dark in the water.
I go still.
Ayer.
He’s a few yards downstream from me. Eyes closed—passed out, maybe. Not dead. I’m not that lucky. His body lies half submerged in the shallows, wrapped around a thick log, which keeps his head propped out of the water.
The tide has crept up while we’ve been out, and his face is just barely above water.
Barely.
The log sits precariously along the shoreline, shifting in the gentle current—unstable. Any minor disturbance in the water threatens to dislodge it.
I swallow hard, remembering the feeling of his arm around me in the water. The river tried to wrench me from him, to take back what it had already claimed, but he never relented.
He never let go.
Why?
The question circles in my mind as I stare at him. I don’t dare move, lest it wake him. My eyes dart back toward the tree line, silently calculating how much of a head start I might get if I could slip away undetected into the woods—assuming he does, in fact, live.
That log… One strong wave and it will slip free, taking the captain with it.
Backing away, my eyes stay vigilant, scanning every inch of him for the slightest hint of movement as I move further away. If he so much as twitches a pinky, I’m bolting.
But before I turn, my gaze catches on something clutched in Ayer’s fist. I frown, not wanting to get any closer, but it’s hard to make out in the dark. It’s small, wooden… a carving, I think.
He’s been carving something every night this week beside the campfire.
Puzzled, I peer closer, and even in the dim light, I can make out the shape: a winged horse. It’s delicately crafted.
It’s the first good look I’ve gotten of his work-in-progress. The hand-carved horse is unexpected and such a stark comparison to the cold and dangerous war captain I know. Maybe he’s carving it for someone. Does he have someone waiting for him? A wife perhaps?
Just like the fae soldiers in Sitara’s army, the Kovari soldiers must have families too. People who love them. People hoping to see them again.
The notion sits heavy in my chest.
I huff, annoyed with myself for the delay, and shake the thought away while rolling my eyes at my bleeding heart, willing it to harden.
Ayer is dangerous. And he wants me dead.
Maybe not today, considering he pulled me from the river, but I know that hasn’t changed. I’m sure of it, even if I don’t understand it. He could hurt me, use me; he could have just let me drown. And yet…
He hasn’t.
Not yet, I remind myself sharply.
Is he an asshole? Yes.
Dangerous? Without a doubt.
Ayer has had every opportunity to touch me—torture me—or worse. But he hasn’t.
Yet. My inner voice screams reason at me.
I eye the captain warily, my feet frozen in the river's muddy bank, distrusting my assessment of the battle-hardened captain. I take in the hard line of his jaw, resting on that log, his nose only a hair’s breadth above the dark water below.
If he slips one more inch while unconscious, he’ll drown.
I should let him. I should leave him exactly where I’ve found him and do all of Sitara a favor.
Or better yet… I should end him myself.
My gaze drifts back to the wooden carving in his hand.
He wasn’t holding it in the water earlier. He must have taken it out, checked for it, and made sure he hadn’t lost it, even as he was losing consciousness.
Because he saved me.
I curse under my breath. “Stupid, idiotic, asinine—” I grumble, starting toward him, reaching for my newly returned knife on my thigh, just in case soldier boy doesn’t live up to the angel reputation I just painted in my head.
Crouching down beside him, I first check his chest to ensure he’s even breathing.
It rises.
Alive, then.
An emotion flickers inside me. Disappointment or relief, I don’t know. I try not to linger on the latter.
Carefully, I lay my knife down on the sand before I reach for him. I have to hold my breath when my fingertips accidentally brush his cheek.
Slowly—so, so slowly—and carefully, I take his head in my hands, turning it away from where it’s hanging precariously over the water. Then I reach down, pull a rock from the water, and wedge it underneath the log to stabilize it.
Satisfied with my good deed, I lift my fingers, breaking contact with Ayer’s skin. Wasting precious seconds, I hesitate to study his face. It’s— He looks different like this. Unconscious, his features are softer. He looks younger than I had guessed before, more… innocent, and less haunted, maybe.
I scoff. Innocent.
He’s not innocent.
Not even close.
Pushing away the thought, I reach for my knife. I’ve done enough, more than enough—more than most.
Time to go.
I fully intend to put as much distance between us as I can before he wakes up.
But the moment my fingers close around the hilt, I feel it. An awareness—a prickle running down my spine. My eyes drift reluctantly up, only to find steel-gray staring back. The shadows gathering in them make my heart rate stutter.
His gaze drops to the knife in my hand.
Oh, hells.
I open my mouth, an explanation ready on the tip of my tongue, but it’s too late; I’m already on my back. The impact knocks the breath from my lungs, giving him the advantage in his efforts to pin me under him.
I curse, twisting and thrashing beneath him, trying to buck him off. Water splashes everywhere. Adrenaline surges. My knife is gone—he’s already taken it, or perhaps it’s lost in the water.
His hand closes around my throat, and I still.
Ayer glares down at me. His grip is firm, but not tight enough to choke. My head hovers just over the surface of the water, my neck straining to keep it there. I’m aware of every single breath I take in as Ayer holds them in the palm of his hand.
“I saved your life...” He searches my face, as if he’s trying to understand me. “And you try to cut me in my sleep?”
The breeze picks up; the icy chill of the water steals the last of my warmth away, and I shiver violently, teeth chattering as I try to speak.
“No—I—” I fumble, struggling to get the words out between the cold and his hand threatening my larynx.
“You what?” he snaps impatiently.
“I was making sure you were breathing!” The words rush out, a jumbled mess, but the way his body stills over me… I know he heard them. He shifts, his body tensing while his eyes narrow; there is nothing but suspicion in his eyes when he looks down at me.
“It’s true!” I spit out between my teeth. “It’s not like I can hurt you, anyway. Not with this,” I mutter, lifting my arm out of the water, showing off his dark rune still on my wrist.
Long seconds of silence pass between us.
His grip on my throat loosens.
“Sure,” he says before releasing his hold, shifting off of me and leaving me heaving in the freezing water.
I push myself back up on shaking arms, scrambling back up the bank while he watches.
“What exactly was the plan?” he asks, and I peer up at him, still trying to catch my breath. His dark eyes dripping with disdain and irritation. “Drown?”
“Maybe,” I mutter, dragging myself to my feet.
“No, seriously, Princess, I want to know.” He crosses his arms across his chest, staring me down.
There’s a slightly mocking edge to his voice before he comes at me so fast I almost fall back into the river as I scramble away.
“What in the twelve hells were you thinking, jumping into that water in the first place?”
“Oh, now you want to know what I was thinking?” I shoot back, refusing to cower to him, not caring if he drowns me after all.
“Yes!” he growls back, a dark storm brewing in his eyes. “I want to know why you would do something so—so reckless and idiotic, like jumping into white water.”
I bristle at his words. Anger flares, emboldening me, and I lift my chin to look him in the eye.
“Alright, Rusic.” I laugh, but there’s no trace of humor in it.
“I’ll tell you what I was thinking.” I tap my finger against my chin as if pondering the thought myself.
“Let’s see… Well, to start, I was taken captive,” I say, shooting an accusatory look his way.
“And then, I got jumped by a faction of fae raiders. So when given the choice between death by drowning or eventual certain death by the perpetually miserable captain of the Kovarian army, who wishes to—hmm, what was it?” I tilt my head to the side as if to consider it.
“Oh, right! Yes, who wishes to see me on my knees because of my brother’s mysterious alleged sins… ”
Ayer’s jaw tightens.
“If you think you were the better choice, I think you may have taken one too many hits to the head, Captain.”
He’s silent for a beat, considering me. “And so then what? Say you survived your brazen water escape, only to find yourself alone in the Wyldewood? How did you plan to defend yourself against all the monsters that go bump in the night?”
I open my mouth only to shut it quickly. My lips press into a thin line. It was a split-second decision. I didn’t exactly think everything through. In truth, I just planned on drowning.
Ayer’s words remind me of the threat the woods hold, and I break our gaze to glance warily at the dark tree line up ahead.
As if reading my mind, Ayer just shakes his head, turning away from me to climb up the embankment toward the forest.
I’m frozen—uncertain whether I’m supposed to follow.
A howl cuts through the night, somewhere far in the distance, but it’s enough to send me scurrying after him.
As much as I hate to admit it, I’m not getting very far without him.
“Hurry up!” he calls out, without sparing a glance back to check if I’m even following.
His gruff tone and air of authority grate against my already bruised ego as I trudge out of the thick muddy bank of the river, wincing as my sore muscles and battered body protests every step.
Ayer disappears into the trees.
I stop at the tree line, gritting my teeth before following in after him.
Should’ve let him drown.