Chapter 48 – Rowan
ROWAN
Morning comes too fast.
Content that Ayer hates me too much to try anything, I passed out as soon as my head hit the pillow.
It was the first relatively good night in what feels like ages. No dreams, no nightmares, just blissful sleep.
A shift in the mattress beneath me pulls me back to reality. My hand immediately slides to my thigh, fingers searching for my knife, but… it’s not there.
Right. The river took it.
Frustration drags me further into consciousness, my eyes fluttering open just to find the devil himself watching me. My attention drops to the blade he’s spinning lazily between his fingers.
My blade.
I bolt upright at the sight of the familiar rose-carved dagger, and I just stand there, glaring at him.
“That’s mine.”
“I know,” he says, amusement dancing in his eyes. They’re free of shadows for once.
“You stole it.”
“I think you mean… I confiscated it.”
“Same thing.”
“Not really.”
I narrow my eyes. They dart between his face and my blade in his hand, calculating just how fast I’d have to be to swipe it off him.
I thought the river took it.
Gods, starting the day already this pissed off is really a less than auspicious start.
“Give it back,” I growl venomously.
“Ask nicely.”
The audacity of this man. “No.”
“You could at least say please.” He tilts his head expectantly to the side as if waiting for me to say it.
“Fuck that.”
The captain’s eyebrows lift at my colorful language.
“I thought I lost it.”
“I know.”
“You let me think I lost it.”
“I did.”
“You’re a monster, you know that?”
He laughs, and I don’t know what to make of it. A genuine bona fide laugh spills out of the man who wouldn’t know a smile if it bit him. I want to slap him. Hard.
“It’s not funny.”
He chuckles again. “I never said it was.”
I can only glare at him—pointedly.
“To be fair, you did try to stab me with it.”
“No, I didn’t!” I shout in exasperation. The man has already succeeded in getting under my skin. “I was actually in the middle of saving your life, but you’re just too dumb to notice.”
He frowns; the blade spinning in his palm goes still.
“It’s mine,” I say softer this time, my eyes fixed on the blade, on the intricate rose carved into the handle.
“So you’ve said—a few times now,” he replies flatly.
“Gah, you’re insufferable, do you know that?” I’m pacing the room now like a caged animal. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him so much.
He smirks. The bastard is enjoying this. Ayer twirls the knife once more, tossing it up, flipping it mid-air so that he catches it by the blade before holding the hilt of it out. Offering it to me.
I freeze.
I don’t take it yet, eyeing him with suspicion. A trap, surely, knowing him. But to what end? My eyes dart around nervously, marking the exits. The door is clear now. The bureau Ayer dragged in front of it last night—a makeshift alarm should I try to escape—has been pushed back into place.
As if reading my thoughts, Ayer sighs, his shoulders sagging slightly. I notice the dark circles under his eyes for the first time. He looks… tired.
“Just take it.”
I hesitate for another few seconds before reaching up slowly, watching him, watching the blade. My fingers close around the familiar handle. It’s warm. The feel of it in my hand is an unexpected comfort. I wait for Ayer to pull it back, to twist this into something else, but he doesn’t.
He just… lets go.
I tense when I spy him reaching into his bag again. Ready for anything.
But he only pulls out an apple, holding it out to me the same way he did the blade.
“Twelve hells, relax, will you?” he huffs out, as if he hasn’t been a constant source of aggravated terror since I first encountered him. I’m almost certain it’s anger I catch flashing in his eyes, but it’s gone just as soon as it appears. “It’s a little soft, but it’s better than nothing.”
Hesitantly, I take the fruit from him.
He reaches back into the bag, taking out another apple for himself. He takes a bite, shifting off the bed and moving across the room to stoke the fire.
I set the apple down on the bed; I’ll eat it later. Between the chaotic eating schedule and how much river water I swallowed last night, my stomach isn’t quite liking the idea of food yet.
“What is this, Ayer?” I ask, lifting the blade slightly.
He looks back over his shoulder. “Well,” he says slowly—seriously, “it appears to be a small, artisan-crafted blade—”
Did he just crack a joke?
“I know what it is,” I snap, so not in the mood for any more games. “But why give it back?”
He turns his attention back to the fire, poking at the dying embers. He’s crouched down beside the flames, his posture relaxed, completely at ease. Like he didn’t just hand me a weapon.
Like I’m not a threat.
And the sad truth is, I’m not—not to him anyway. At least, not until I get this shadows-cursed rune off my wrist. And when I do, all bets are off.
It’s clear now why Ayer was appointed captain despite his young age. I saw him. I saw the way he took out those five fae raiders—all on his own. Impossible shots that he made look effortless—lethal—precise. Precision that shouldn’t be possible from such a distance.
Ayer is far more dangerous than I first thought.
My grip tightens on the hilt of my dagger while I stare at him, the rune burning faintly against my skin.
A reminder.
“We have a full day’s hike ahead of us, and there are creatures far worse than you prowling these woods.”
Worse than me. His comparison of me to a forest monster grates a little, but I bite my tongue.
I turn the knife in my hands, using the sharp steel edge to slice a small tear in my new skirt, and slide it back into its sheath where it belongs.
“So it’s mine to keep, then?” I push, wondering if he’ll just confiscate it again once we rejoin the others.
He sets down the fire poker, rising to his full height before facing me. “So long as you do nothing reckless with it.”
I almost swear that’s amusement sparkling in those gray eyes of his when he shoots me a knowing look.
I ignore it.
Reckless is exactly what I plan to be.
Just… not yet.
Not here. Not with the innocent villagers’ lives still at stake, should Ayer make good on his promise.
But soon.
Like it or not, I’m stuck with him—for now.
Stars. I jumped into a fucking river and still wasn’t able to shake him. My next escape attempt requires planning—strategy.
I don’t say anything—I don’t agree. Instead, I find my boots and slip them on. The leather is hot on my feet. I left them close to the fire last night to dry, and the warmth from the boots seeps into my skin, and I nearly groan at how good it feels.
“Why didn’t you leave me to drown?”
Ayer’s voice cuts through the quiet, and I look up to find him studying me like I’m some sort of puzzle he needs to solve. “Back at the river,” he clarifies, noting my confusion. “I was unconscious. You could have run, but you didn’t. Why?”
My throat tightens, and I suddenly find my nail beds in need of my direct attention.
“Why didn’t you?”
I look out the window, at my hands, anywhere but at him. It’s uncomfortable, being put on the spot like this.
I can feel his gaze on me, can feel the intensity in it burning against my cheek, as if he could pull the answer from my mind if he just stared intently enough.
“I don’t know,” I admit finally. My voice is quiet.
I really can’t say; admittedly, I’m a little irritated with myself for not leaving him behind when I had the chance.
Especially right now. At this moment. “I couldn’t—I couldn’t just leave you there.
Not after you”—I kick at a few clumps of dirt on the floor—“after you pulled me out.”
“Who would’ve thought a faerie would have a moral code?” he says at last, a small smirk tugging at his mouth.
A smirk I immediately want to smack off his face.
“Says the man working with a Raven,” I fire back.
Ayer’s amused expression shuts down immediately, a familiar glower returning to his dark gray eyes. “That’s none of your concern.”
Too late.
“None of my concern? That—that thing—” my voice sharpens, anger rising hot and fast, “—has killed hundreds, maybe even thousands with just half a thought. You’re responsible for letting that monster loose on villages and cities, and you want to lecture me about morality?”
I scoff when I see the muscle working in his jaw, his mouth a thin line. He doesn’t answer, avoiding my gaze and staring hard into the fireplace instead.
“You made a deal with the devil, and I hope it comes back to haunt you.” The last known Raven fractured the tethering while destroying Daekhar in the process. Demons have been hunted for generations for a reason.
Silence falls again, power bristling under my skin, the rune burning hot on my wrist as Ayer continues to stare hard into the fire.
But I’m done. Done with this conversation and done with him. I sigh loudly, shifting my body away from him.
Silence falls heavy between us while I finish lacing up my boots, watching Ayer buckle his leathers out of the corner of my eye.
Neither of us speaks.
Once he’s finished, he moves toward the door but doesn’t open it. His hand rests against the worn wood, unmoving for several long beats. Then, without turning around, he says quietly, “I know."