Chapter 8
Kai
Ihold up the flap of the tent, letting Rowan walk out in front of me. She moves with unconscious precision, angling her body so we don’t touch. I can’t blame her. I’d not want anything to do with me either. Hells, no one with a brain does. Or should.
Lilith’s atrophied wings flash through my memory, her amber eyes full of terror. I force myself to see her fully before shoving down the image. The mission to collect an alchemist for Lilith’s sake, bypassing the needs of all others, risking war, had always been gray. And I didn’t give two fucks.
But betraying Rowan? That one I hate myself for more than she does.
“You’re being watched,” Kyrian says, falling in beside me. Logan trails Rowan from a distance. The bastard is using his wolf form to avoid talking to anyone. Just because I can’t blame him, doesn’t mean I’m not jealous. Kyrian rolls his neck, bones popping, the sound not quite masking the envy in his tone. “Make it convincing.”
“You could join us.”
He arches a brow. Right. Flurry fae are as casual with their bodies as my kin in Slait, but we’re meant to be selling abetrothal here. Plus, Rowan is most certainly not casual and will already be scheming ways to cut off my balls without adding a second naked male into the mix.
Kyrian sighs and peels off the path we are following to the officers’ bathing section “I’ll secure suitable clothing for the evening. The stewards should have soap and towels at the stream for you,” he adds over his shoulder. “Try and use them.”
I give him a vulgar gesture.
A pace ahead of me, Rowan is drawing every eye in camp. She is human. The alchemist. The enemy.
She’s also the most beautiful female here, the battered Eryndor cadet uniform doing nothing to hide her curves or her defiance. Both of which stir my cock. I lengthen my stride, catching up to her, and slide my arm around her waist.
Rowan’s shoulder goes rigid against me, but she doesn’t pull away. Impressive. I’m not sure I’d have the same restraint in her place.
It’s a dangerous relief, the feeling of her pressed close to my side, her hip snug against my hip, her honey and citrus scent wrapping around me. Even the pretense of intimacy with her is more intoxicating than any liquor I’ve ever poured down my throat. If Rowan notices the subtle change in the way my fingertips flex against the curve of her waist, she doesn’t give me the satisfaction of a reaction. Maybe she’s too busy pretending I’m not here, or that every surveyor’s glance and whispered slur isn’t about the human alchemist they wish were dead. Or speared on their cock.
We pass through a knot of younger soldiers clustered at the edge of the path. I glare and they step back, averting their gazes. It’s still an effort of will to not knock their teeth loose. Maybe I’ll do that later, when Rowan is settled.
Later we fly with the riot,Ulyssus says into my mind.Stay on track.
I can knock out teethandfly.I put up my mental shields before he can offer more commentary. There is enough going on without his sage advice.
We follow the marked trail to crest a gentle rise, where the landscape opens abruptly to the soft rush and tumble of water. Theron’s soldiers have claimed a wide stretch of the stream, the perimeter of the bathing section marked with rope staked into the mossy bank with silver-tipped spikes. I’m pleased to see the bank carefully cleared of brambles and overhanging branches—not because I care much, but because it speaks to the discipline of the unit. The discipline that might be the only thing keeping them from ripping Rowan apart limb by limb.
“Is that it?” there is a slight tremor in Rowan's voice as she points with her chin.
I raise a brow. We’re close enough now to see wooden caddies with soap and towels, a battered tin pitcher for rinsing hair, even a copper kettle steaming at the edge. “I doubt it’s Theron’s hygiene supply storage.”
Rowan swallows, and I pay attention. She’s not the type to scare easily, or at least to show it.
“What do you see?” I ask, already scanning the area for threats. Nothing obvious, unless the dozen naked fae in the water and half-dozen half-naked attendants all have swords up their asses.
“A lack of partitions.”
Of for fuck’s sake. I stop looking for hidden weapons and regard Rowan instead. “You expected privacy?”
“For a bath? Yes!” She tries to run a hand through her hair, but it’s too tangled, the red-brown strands catching the morning sun. The black cadet tunic is torn at the shoulder, exposing pale skin bruised to match the dirt on her face. Somehow, all of it only makes her look fiercer, the intelligence burning in her honeyeyes. She’s beautiful and unbroken. And I find I like the idea of others looking at her even less than she does.
I bring my lips close to her ear. Her pulse thumps at her throat like a tiny war drum.
“Keep focused on me,” I order. Without waiting for a response, I hook an arm under her knees and back, and lift her against my chest. Her weight feels perfect, her body fitting like a puzzle piece against mine.
Ignoring the stares, I carry Rowan into the stream, holding her close to my chest to offer my heat to offset the chilly water. Spotting a boulder jutting from the current, I set her on it, back to the shore. It’s the best I can offer for privacy.
The water is brisk, the current curling around my knees as I crouch before her and hold a hand out toward the attendant, who dutifully hands me a cake of soap, wash cloth and a pitcher of heated water. I set them on the stone beside Rowan’s hip.
“Keep your eyes on me, Ainsley,” I demand, pleased to see a spark of defiance penetrate through the fear. Still, her body is taut, every muscle tense with pride and wary anticipation. I grip her gaze as I peel away the remnants of her uniform, letting the fabric fall into the current, baring her to the bright daylight of the watching fae. They dare not approach us, but have no intention of turning away either.
