Chapter 64 – Rowan
ROWAN
Something flickers in Ayer’s dark eyes at my realization, but it’s gone too quickly for me to analyze, and he just nods solemnly in confirmation.
“Technically,” Theo mutters.
The Demon Queen. The woman who married the last King of Daekhar. The same one who poisoned his mind and corrupted his court, before destroying his entire kingdom from the inside out.
My thoughts spiral so deeply that I barely realize Ayer is speaking, until my name on his lips cuts through the haze.
“Please, Rowan.” His words are urgent and low, as if the queen can hear them from wherever she is within the fort. “If there’s ever been a time for you to listen to me, let it be now.” His eyes lock onto mine, intense and searching. “She cannot know who you are.”
Fear. My eyes widen at the realization that the look in his eyes—that emotion I couldn’t quite label—is fear.
“As far as the queen is concerned, you’re just a slave. Taken from some random village along our path.” His eyes sharpen. “If she finds out who you really are…”
He doesn’t need to finish what I already know. Whatever I’ve gone through with Ayer, or whatever they have planned for me, I know it pales in comparison to what the queen might do.
There’s no love lost between the Queen of Daekhar and Sitara.
When her dark magic consumed the Highlands, killing her husband and son and taking out most of the Daekhari Court alongside them, my father rode in with his armies and allies to take her down.
With the Daekhari Kingdom in disarray, she had been ill-prepared to fend off such a strong outside attack and was quickly defeated. However, instead of facing her defeat, she chose to flee.
She had to. With the king and his heir dead, she had no way to claim the throne. The tethering prevented her from inheriting the kingdom’s power, and she was left with no choice, and Daekhar fell to ruin.
Now, the highlands are little more than ruins and clans of raiders.
But, even I know enough not to underestimate a demon powerful enough to destroy an entire kingdom.
Slowly, I nod. “Okay.”
Ayer studies my reaction, as if he was expecting more of an argument. I know my life means little to him, but he still needs me alive for whatever he and Theo have planned. So I’m confident that at the very least, their plans don’t include the Demon Queen ripping out my heart to feast on tonight.
Ayer’s lips part as if he wants to say something else, but Theo steps forward. His eyebrows are bunched together in concern, his skin a little pale, and he’s missing his usual easy smile.
“She’s on her way,” Theo reminds us. I barely recognize the seriousness in his tone.
Ayer swears, pushing the bundle of cloth Ana just gave him into my hands. “Put this on.”
I hold up the fabric, taking a closer look, when horror washes over me. It’s a dress, though the sheer lack of fabric might disagree.
“You want me to wear—this?” I stare up at him. “Absolutely not.”
I try shoving it back into his hands, but he just pushes me—and the dress—into the washroom instead.
“She has to believe you’re only a slave,” he says tightly. “Trust me, Rowan, you do not want the consequences if she learns otherwise.”
I’m shaking my head when I hear my name again. Softly. Pleading.
“Rowan.”
I glance up at Ayer—truly looking at him this time. His use of my name does something to me I can’t quite explain.
“You have no reason to,” he starts, his eyes fixed on mine. “But, I need you to trust me.”
I chew my lip, searching his eyes. The urgency grows by the second before I finally concede, dropping my gaze to give a quick nod of my head, and then I back up slowly into the washroom.
Closing the door behind me, I release a shaky breath and start stripping off my leathers to trade it for—
The dress’ fabric is thin and utterly see-through.
The silky fabric dips low, revealing most of my chest, and silk straps crisscross my stomach, leaving most of my skin exposed.
The skirt is hardly any better—slits cut nearly to the waistline, and shift as I walk, leaving only a few inches of cloth to cover my front.
It leaves me vulnerable. Giving easy access to my body from all directions.
My stomach twists, and I forcefully swallow the bile that rises in my throat as I remember Riggs’ hand when he found that tear in my skirt.
I shove the memory away, walling it off inside a fortress in my mind.
The mirror offers me a reflection I barely recognize.
The dress leaves my arms bare. The dark curling rune contrasts sharply with my pale skin. The bandage covering my wound stands out at my exposed side. I rip it off.
The wound I’d taken from Ayer has already started to heal, but the cut is still raw and angry and sits conveniently between two of the straps. I leave it uncovered. Proof of violence, which I’m sure the Demon Queen will enjoy.
I stare at it until my expression turns blank, and then with a deep breath, I walk back into the room.
Despite his solemn demeanor, the prince lets out a low whistle as he takes me in, and I feel a blush creep across my cheeks.
Ayer shoots him a glare sharp enough to kill.
Theo smirks back at him before dropping lazily into one of the chairs by the hearth with a full glass of whiskey.
Unsure what’s expected of me, I linger awkwardly in the doorway to the washroom until Ayer steps toward me. His eyes immediately drop to the angry red scar between my ribs before they take a sharp turn toward the ceiling.
He looks irritated—maybe furious. Without a word to me, he catches my wrist and pulls me behind him as he stalks toward his desk. Taking a seat, he pulls me down with him.
My ass has barely grazed his lap when I jump back out of it in surprise. “What are you doing?”
“Sit on my lap.”
My eyes widen. “What? No!” I take a step back, though his grip on my wrist prevents any further retreat. I try pulling away, but his grip only tightens.
Theo makes no move to intervene, lounging on his chair as if it were a throne, his shoulders slouched back with his feet propped up on the table. He throws back another shot of his whiskey as he watches our exchange, all while casting wary glances toward the hall door.
Ayer tugs me closer, his strength winning out against mine. “There’s no time,” he says quietly. “You need to play the part.” His silver eyes flash, and I see his fear reflected in them again.
Reluctantly, I allow him to pull me back into his lap. I sit perched atop one of his thighs, his leg resting between both of my own. My split skirt falls away to each side, leaving almost my entire leg exposed.
I’m shaking.
Ayer’s rough hand slides slowly up my exposed thigh in an effort to settle me, but it has the opposite effect. The unexpected contact sends wicked jolts of electricity running from his fingers through my skin, with a direct line deep into the core of my abdomen.
My breath catches, and it takes everything in me not to jump when I feel the heat of his breath brush my ear.
“Keep your eyes down,” he whispers. “Whatever happens... play along.”
My heart beats hard in my chest, and I hear his voice again, softer this time. “I’m sorry.”
I twist around until I can see his face—his eyes. The darkness in them holds a deep sadness, and perhaps even a tinge of regret, and then he wrenches his gaze away, sharply directing his attention forward.
The door opens and soldiers pour in, sweeping the room with their eyes while keeping a casual hand on the hilt of their swords.
They’re wearing the same black armour as Ayer and his men.
I feel their eyes linger when they get to me—see their gazes drop to my exposed thigh, the one on which Ayer’s currently tracing small, soft circles into my skin.
I’m aware of every breath, every movement either of us makes.
The queen enters, and there’s no mistaking her. Even with the power-blocking rune on my wrist, I can sense the power thrumming off of her. The feel of it sends a shiver down my spine. Dark and dangerous, just like that of the Raven.
She wears an elegant—yet simple—dark gown. Traditionally formal. Her dark hair is a stark contrast to the paleness of her skin. Equally dark eyes find me immediately, and I’m struck by their intensity. Remembering Ayer’s words, I break our stare, dropping my eyes to the ground.
She’s one of the last half-demons we know of. Powerful. Once formidable enough that the fae hunted her kind nearly to extinction.
I peek back up through my lashes for another look.
The queen’s eyes seem devoid of life. Cold and cruel, they scan the room slowly.
A look of disdain appears on her face as she takes in Theo, who lounges lazily across from her in his chair.
Irritation sparks in those otherwise dead eyes at his apparent lack of respect.
Then her attention shifts toward Ayer.
And me.
The captain’s body goes rigid beneath mine.
“Well,” the queen drawls. “Don’t rise on my account.”
“Why? You’re still queen of nothing. My allegiance is to the king.”
I stiffen at his dismissive words, and silence floods the room. A heavy, deadly silence.
Did he really just speak to the demon queen like that?
Ayer’s chin finally lifts to meet the queen’s cold glare. His expression is equal to hers, cold and impassive, as he adds, “Your Highness,” as if it’s an afterthought.
The queen’s lips curl, but she says nothing.
“Would you like a drink, Your Majesty?” Theo holds up his already half-empty glass of whiskey, making an attempt to break the simmering tension between her and his captain. “Ayer and I were just enjoying a lovely nightcap.”
The queen doesn’t even look at him.
“No. I won’t be long.” The way her eyes slither back over to Ayer reminds me of a viper right before it strikes. “I just wanted to congratulate you on your victory at Rosecliff. A grand success.”
I tense, and Ayer’s hand tightens on my thigh, silently warning me to stay still and quiet.
“Yes,” he replies smoothly, lifting his own glass of dark liquid toward Theo. “The first of many, we hope.”
The queen’s eyes drift over me again.
“And you’ve found yourself a new pet?” She comes closer, inspecting me as if I were a piece of livestock, one eyebrow raised. “She is fae?” she asks, her tone marked with surprise as she looks at Ayer for confirmation, as if my ears aren’t evidence enough.
I feel Ayer’s fingers in my hair before his fist curls around a lock of it, roughly tugging my head to the side to expose my neck to the mercy of his mouth.
My pulse thumps violently.
His eyes stay on the queen, a challenge in them I don’t quite understand, as his mouth brushes lightly against my neck. All while his other hand disappears beneath the thin fabric of my skirt.
“An even greater victory,” he murmurs before biting down on my throat.
A soft whimper escapes me before I can stop it. The queen visibly recoils in disgust.
“Well,” she says stiffly, “I’m surprised you haven’t killed it yet.” Her eyes lock on mine deliberately, cruel amusement dancing in them.
I attempt to shift away from Ayer, but his grip on my hair and thigh tighten, dragging me in closer. He is—for better or worse—in complete control of my body right now.
And I’m allowing it.
“No promises.” The ice in Ayer’s voice sends a shiver down my spine. Possessive, controlling… The voice of a ruthless shadows-cursed war captain.
The queen looks down her nose at us in disgust. “I need to be on my way, but before I go,” her eyes sharpen, narrowing in on Ayer behind me, “what is the status of the Raven?”
This time, I feel Ayer tense for real. His fingers momentarily tighten in my hair before he releases me entirely.
The Raven.
My body stiffens as I await what he has to say about the creature: the dark demon hellspawn Kovaria summoned to help them win this war. I had seen neither hide nor hair of the creature since our departure from the rest of the Kovarian army, and I was happy about it.
Ayer hesitates for a long moment, and when he speaks, his words are careful. “The Raven remains with the army. His well of power has recovered.”
I perk up at the bite of intel.
Recovered?
Meaning it can weaken. As devastating as the Raven’s power is, apparently using it drains him. I file the knowledge away with a flicker of hope that I might be able to share it with my brothers.
The queen’s smile is thin. “Excellent. Daekhar moves against the rest of Sitara soon.” Her gaze sharpens. “Tell the Raven we will require him at full strength.”
I chance a glance at Ayer behind me. His jaw is tight, and his eyes hard as he gives the queen a stark military nod. “I will see to it.”
Satisfied, the queen finally turns toward the door.
“I’ll see you soon.” She levels a warning gaze on both Theo and Ayer before she disappears into the hall with her soldiers trailing out behind her.
The second she leaves, the room feels lighter, like I can breathe again.
Ayer loosens his tight grip on my waist but I don’t move—not yet.
If what the queen says is true, Daekhar plans to attack Sitara soon. Apparently allied with Kovaria, who, with the Raven’s help, were able to bring down Rosecliff in a matter of minutes. An army led by… Ayer.
I stare at him, searching his face, studying the hard line of his jaw and the tension locked through his shoulders, trying to decipher if the tension in them comes from loyalty to the queen… or resentment toward her.
I can’t explain it. Over the last week, things have changed between us. A tentative truce? I don’t know what to call it, but it’s something I’m sure we’ve both felt, but haven’t discussed.
There’s conflict in his eyes, and something else I can’t quite read. He’s a question I suddenly don’t have an answer to. I hate that some part of me wants him to say that what he told the queen is a lie. That he won’t touch Sitara again. That he won’t hurt my brothers.
If he does still plan on taking down my kingdom, my family—which, if I’m being honest, of course he does—can I convince him otherwise?