Chapter 69 – Rowan
ROWAN
Everything hurts.
Every. Single. Inch.
My ribs ache with every breath, my knee throbbing and my shoulder stiff from where I slammed hard into the cliff.
For a few minutes—maybe longer—I just lay there, staring blankly overhead at the way the sun peeks through the treetops. How the light shifts and fights with shadow.
He didn’t follow me.
If he did, I’d already be dead.
It’s little comfort as I push myself up, immediately regretting the decision and hissing when I attempt to bear weight on my knee.
Ayer didn’t pursue me over the ravine, but that doesn’t mean he’s not still hunting me. Even now, he could be seeking a bridge—another way across.
That thought alone has me swallowing the growing well of pain and stepping deeper into the Skyen forest, but not before finding that oak.
And his arrow.
I rip it from the bark, studying it for a second before breaking off the wood and pocketing the tip.
It’s a better weapon than nothing. I still have my dagger, but somewhere in my flight to evade Ayer, I lost my bow and quiver.
It’s a slow trek. Tired and injured, it’s all I can manage.
A cold front has moved in, and the scent of rain in the air has me wrapping my arms tighter around myself.
Perfect. Just perfect.
I stumble through the forest in a daze for most of the morning, heading north as best I can. I’m cautious; every snap of a twig, every shifting shadow, spikes my heart rate.
By midday, exhaustion drags at every step, but still I freeze when I hear it: shouts—the sound of male voices drifting in on the wind.
My heartbeat quickens and I move forward slowly, trying not to get my hopes up at the familiar clanging of steel on steel.
Keeping low, I circle the area, until I find brush thick enough to peek from a safe distance.
The sight of the Skye colors flying high over the bustling war camp nearly sends me to my knees.
Still, I stay hidden at the top of the hill for most of the afternoon. Studying the comings and goings of the camp. Disappointment grows when I see no sign of the Sitara colors or flags. The little hope I had of reuniting with my brothers flames out.
The sight of Kane moving through the camp has me sitting a little straighter. His charcoal-colored armour glints in the late afternoon sun as he strides confidently through camp, disappearing into a large white tent near its center.
I sigh. It’s now or never.
Slowly, I pick my way down the rocky hillside toward the camp. I don’t even make it halfway before Skyen archers find me.
“Halt.”
I freeze, raising my hands so they can see them.
A moment later, a small group of Skyen soldiers approaches quickly. A tall male with fire-red hair at their center. His light green eyes pass over me with a look of bored suspicion. He gives a nod to his men, and they close rank around me, cutting off any hope of retreat into the woods.
Despite the pain, I draw myself up, lifting my chin to look the red-haired soldier in the eye, reminding myself that someday soon I am to be their queen.
After all, that’s why I’m here, isn’t it?
I skip the pleasantries, leaving the Skyen captain with a small smile. “I must speak with Prince Kane.”
“Is that right?” The fae male’s tone drips with arrogance as his eyes sweep over the black leather armour I wear, lingering on the dried blood staining the leather.
“Yes,” I nod patiently. “It’s a rather urgent matter,” I prod when none of them move, their weapons still raised.
The Skyen captain doesn’t answer, continuing to study me.
I lift my chin a little higher. “And I would appreciate it if your soldiers stopped aiming arrows at my face.”
The male’s eyes narrow, but instead of issuing the order to lower their weapons, he unsheathes his own sword. I blink back at him in shock when he points it at me.
“On your knees. Show some respect for the captain of the Third Battlement.
He cannot be serious. I bite back my temper to keep my words even. “Sir,” I start carefully. “I must speak with your prince. If you could please send—”
He takes a menacing step toward me, and my mouth snaps shut. His face is growing redder by the minute. I wonder if it will soon match his hair. He holds up his sword, the blade now only inches from my face.
“You will kneel.”
Unease snakes through my gut, but I don’t move.
“You will kneel!” he shouts, waving his sword at me. “You will kneel and allow my men to detain you for questioning.”
The corner of my mouth ticks up in a slow smile, and I drop my head to the side, studying him.
“No.”
I feel the attention of every one of his soldiers on me.
Captain Red over here blinks at me like he’s never been denied a day in his life.
I look past him, making eye contact with his men instead.
“Perhaps one of you has better sense than your captain here.” I look disdainfully at the Skyen captain, whose face has nearly reached the same shade of red as his hair.
“Would one of you please fetch Prince Kane and inform him that he has a visitor?” My gaze sweeps across every soldier surrounding me before settling back on the captain.
“And when you do,” I add sweetly, my smile only growing, “tell him Rowena Valrose is here to speak with him.”
It takes effort not to laugh at the look on the captain’s face.
Weapons waver slightly in the air, and whispers rise up, as the men cast nervous glances toward their captain.
The captain’s previously red face has gone positively ashen.
“The princess… is dead,” he says stiffly.
I sigh, dropping my hands onto my hips. “I assure you, I am not.”
The male's expression is murderous, but he doesn’t get a chance to respond, as another group approaches quickly across the valley.
The captain blanches when he looks back, but he’s blocking my view.
I lean around him, locking eyes with… Kane. Relief crashes through me.
“Rowena?” His voice is pure disbelief before he’s at my side, quickly urging the surrounding soldiers to lower their weapons.
“I can’t believe it,” he says, looking me over like he’s seen a ghost. “We thought— We heard Rosecliff was attacked and that you—” He shakes his head, his relief at finding me very much not dead apparent on his face.
“I escaped,” I explain, not wanting to get into the details in front of so many people.
Kane must read the weariness on my face. “Come, come, you must be exhausted.”
I let him pull me along, using his arm to support my weight, and give his captain a narrowed look as I pass by. “You have no idea.”
Kane glances down at me, his eyes widening at the sight of the cut on my ear. Sliced by Ayer’s arrow. The dried blood still on my neck. “Gods, what happened here?” he asks, before calling for his medic. My ear stings as he brushes his fingers against it.
I open my mouth to answer just as my throat tightens.
Ayer’s arrow.
My mind takes me back to the ravine, the wind whipping across my face, my wings, Ayer’s arrow.
He missed.
He doesn’t miss.
Not ever.