Chapter 50 – Rowan
ROWAN
The argument last night shattered whatever fragile truce Ayer and I had somewhat stumbled into.
And another restless sleep on the ground has us both crabby.
We travel the whole day in silence.
Again.
My stomach grumbles, but I ignore it. Ayer’s pace has increased over the last couple of hours, and I feel we’re closing in on our destination.
The day is nearly at its end when his body goes tense.
The rigid set of his shoulders is subtle but unmistakable.
I notice it just before the forest thins, revealing a stone outpost.
I swallow hard, chewing my lip as I glance up at the formidable stone walls of the fort.
The sight of them sets off an overwhelming urge to run.
They grow taller and maybe even thicker the closer we get.
My steps slow, and I nearly trip over myself when I catch sight of the banner flying from the nearest bastion.
A blood-red crescent moon with a small black raven perched atop it, with five smaller ravens flying in the background.
My stomach drops. I hadn’t realized we had fully crossed out of Sitara and into the broken and cursed Daekhar Kingdom. This must be an old border fort.
I jump when men I don’t recognize emerge from the trees. Their armour isn’t black like that of Ayer and his men; theirs gleams silver instead, with the winged sword of Kovaria on their chest. They greet Ayer before escorting us the rest of the way to the fort.
Heavy gates creak open when we reach the fort’s entrance. My stomach twists as I walk through them, into a training yard for its soldiers. My feet are heavy. The stone wall of the fort encircles the entire compound. It serves a dual purpose: to keep enemies out and prisoners in.
The slam of the heavy gates closing behind me sends my heart rate flying.
Inside the compound, I recognize a few familiar faces, Wyatt among them. He strides forward quickly, his face solemn, immediately murmuring something low into Ayer’s ear. The captain nods once.
I can feel it. The tension. And I don’t like it.
Ayer continues forward, and I follow, keeping close to him. I’m not safe—he’s still my enemy and my captor, but… at least with him, I know what to expect. He’s familiar. The devil you know.
And the looks these silver-clad soldiers give me…
My eyes flick from soldier to soldier, making sure none of them get too close.
I don’t realize that I’ve pressed myself as close as I have to Ayer until he stops.
I notice a little too late, too busy eyeing my new surroundings, and I crash hard into his back.
Ayer whips around and my eyes go wide, suddenly finding us chest to chest. His jaw tightens, and his hand shoots out, wrapping itself around my arm and steering me roughly forward, toward a larger grouping of silver soldiers waiting in front of the entrance to the fort itself.
As we draw closer, Ayer releases my arm, but the look he gives me says enough.
Stay quiet.
Wyatt and Hayes close rank behind us, far too casually to be unintentional.
I lift my eyes, keeping my focus forward, nearly tripping over myself when I see who waits up ahead.
Riggs.
He smiles when he sees me looking, and I balk against Ayer’s grip, which only forces him to tug me forward again.
Bile rises in my throat at the memory of Kovaria’s corporal. Memories of his hands on my body, creeping up my thigh.
Ayer’s grip on me is unyielding, but I slow my pace, deliberately—carefully—dropping ever-so-slightly behind Ayer, feigning deference to the captain. Gods, I hope Riggs fears Ayer enough to leave me alone for however long we’re here.
The smile on the corporal’s face is less than reassuring.
His sleazy smile only widens as he watches me. I do my best to keep my face blank, but it’s work to keep my fear from my eyes.
Ayer lets go of my arm to step forward, leaving me with Wyatt.
I have to resist the urge to go with him.
There’s something different; I catch the shift immediately.
Over the past week, he’d blended in easily with his men, still their commander but one of them all the same.
Now, as he approaches the corporal, that ease vanishes.
His shoulders square, his gaze sharpens, and there’s a newfound authority in the way he stalks forward, his cloak billowing in the increasing winds, the skies above darkening with storm clouds.
Ayer stops in front of Riggs, partially blocking the corporal’s view of me. Riggs’ eyes finally slide from me to his captain.
“Captain Rusic!” Riggs exclaims rather boisterously, reaching forward to clasp Ayer on the back as if they are old friends.
I don’t miss the way Ayer bristles at his touch, or the warning that dances in his eyes.
“To what do we owe this pleasure?” Riggs’ head tilts to the side, his eyes finding me again.
“Corporal.” Ayer returns Riggs’ greeting with a curt nod. “I think it would be best if we talked inside.”
Riggs waves his hand dismissively, disregarding Ayer’s formality. “Plenty of time for that. You and your men look tired. Why not take a rest first? Eat! Drink! Then perhaps we can discuss whatever errand Theo sent you out here for over dinner?”
Ayer stiffens, but Riggs doesn’t give him a chance to refuse.
“Come now,” the corporal presses, his grin widening further. “A couple of hours’ rest won’t end the world.” He looks around, and a few of his men laugh at the joke.
Ayer exchanges a quick look with Wyatt. The latter is uncharacteristically stone-faced as he nods. “Fine.” He agrees reluctantly, his frown deepening. “We will discuss over dinner.”
Riggs claps his hands together. “Excellent!” And then his eyes find me again.
“I’m surprised to see you still have your little fae pet.
” His smile turns darker—crueler—as his voice drops lower.
“Tell me, has the little bird sung yet?” He tilts his head, his eyes scanning the length of me while my stomach churns violently under his assessment.
I keep my eyes on the ground, watching him from my periphery. Something tells me Riggs is not one to taunt with a challenge.
“She looks a fair bit more contrite since the last time I saw her. Tell me Theo found the rest of that Sitara royal filth and burned them alive?”
My fingers twitch toward the blade hidden under my skirts at the mention of my brothers, but I resist the urge to snatch it free, not wanting to give Ayer a reason to confiscate it.
My muscles lock as my body tenses, every instinct screaming to attack—to gouge the man’s eyes out—but I keep my feet planted, my spine rigid, taking care to school my face into neutrality.
I have years of court training to thank for this level of emotional control.
It’s clear Corporal Riggs gets off on provoking others, and I will not let him bait me.
Indeed, his smile fades when I fail to react. I keep my gaze fixed on the dirt below, though I catch the change in his expression from the corner of my eye. A muscle feathers in his jaw before his gaze goes back to Ayer.
The captain is watching me too. I can feel him—see him out of the corner of my eye, while I keep my focus on Riggs, not trusting him for a second.
“Last we heard, Rosecliff is secure; however, there’s no trace of the Rose Court or its princes.”
I blow out a breath of relief, shifting on my feet despite myself. Riven and Fel are safe.
They’re safe.
Riggs clicks his tongue. “Curious,” he muses.
“Yet their princess appears alive and well.” He frowns at me before his attention shifts to Ayer.
“You let your history with Fel cloud your judgment. She knows where they are, yet somehow we still don’t.
” His eyes drift back to me. “No broken bones, no bruises worth mentioning, and she’s unbound?
With no signs that she’s even been questioned at all? ”
I bristle at the mention of my brother. My fingers twitch once again toward my dagger. Beside me, Ayer’s eyes darken, a warning flashing in the shadows that form in the corners of his eyes.
“Your greatest weakness has always been your lack of patience, Riggs,” Ayer muses.
“It’s what cost you the rank of captain.
” Riggs’ eyes go cold. “Don’t mistake restraint for mercy.
Pain is a useful tool. And so is fear. Useful, yes.
But nothing compares to hope.” My eyes snap up, finding Ayer’s already on mine.
“You break a body with pain, but you break a mind with hope.”
I swallow, gripping hold of my skirts to hide my trembling fingers.
“She thinks something changed on the road. That perhaps something between us shifted. It was over for her the moment she stopped looking for escape and started looking to me.” My breath catches, and he sees it—he sees everything; his eyes never leave mine.
“Fear breeds defiance, but hope,” he pauses, the ghost of a smile on his face, “hope breeds obedience.” He looks at me again, smile gone, his eyes cold—harder than before, if that were possible.
“No ropes or chains, and yet she followed me through the woods for days. She hasn’t touched that dagger at her thigh because I told her not to. ”
My heart pounds in my chest.
“That’s what makes hope the most dangerous weapon of all,” he continues quietly.
I can’t move. I can’t breathe. I can’t tear my gaze from his if I tried.
I’m frozen beneath the weight of his words.
“I didn’t even have to drag her inside,” Ayer says, gesturing at the surrounding fort.
“She walked into this cage willingly. And by the time I’m finished with her, she’ll be begging me for more than just death. ”
Panic claws at my chest, and my heart pounds so hard it threatens to burst right out of it.
I don’t know what’s happening. But I know one thing: this isn’t the same Ayer I’ve spent the last week with on the road.
The man who acted as if my mere touch was a disease he didn’t wish to contract.
Was he playing then? Or is he playing now?
Either way, I stop struggling, choosing to conserve energy, knowing I won’t escape him.
There’s a new look of satisfaction on Ayer’s face when he looks back up at Riggs, who’s looking down on the two of us in disgust.
Without warning, Ayer shoves me away, and I fall backward into Wyatt. His third is quick to catch me, holding me tight in his arms. I’m fairly certain I catch a flash of sympathy in those deep blue eyes of his.
I’m shaking. The gates have already closed behind us. There’s nowhere to run.
The fort walls loom higher, appearing as though they’re closing in.
Ignoring me, Ayer turns his attention back on Riggs. “We have matters to discuss; best get to it. Do you have somewhere secure where the princess can wait?”
Riggs’ expression brightens. “Of course.”
I draw further back into Wyatt’s chest as Riggs motions for two of his guards to come forward to take me.
Neither Ayer nor Wyatt stop them from wrenching me away, and genuine terror fills me as they drag me inside.
“And have someone clean her up.” The casual tone of Ayer’s voice as I fight the guards’ grip grates on my nerves. “I want her presentable when she’s brought to my chambers tonight.”
Everything in me turns to ice.
I struggle as they drag me away, looking back over my shoulder—looking for Ayer.
But he won’t look at me.
Not once.