Glancing over to her, I find Rooke staring back at me with clear eyes and a thoughtful expression. I have her full attention, and no other concerns to interrupt us, a rare blessing that I refuse to squander. "I never tolerated the fussy nature of the royals and nobles of the Unseelie Court. I have many females in my life that I respect greatly, and cherish, but there are very few who could endure the very base nature of me, the one my uncle has used against me at every opportunity. While some of that behavior is surely the Unseelie high fae way, much of my so-called savage demeanor is mine alone."
Her hand is warm as it slips into mine, our fingers threading together easily, and my thumb rubs over one of her knuckles just to relish the softness of her skin there. When the sword calluses on her palms brush against mine own the image of her in the sparring rings flashes within my mind and my blood instantly heats. Coaxing her into a friendly match settles itself firmly amongst my priorities.
Clearing my throat, I bare what little of my soul I have left to my croí. "If I arrived at the port to find that Seelie female I thought the Fates were leading me to, I'd be living a miserablelife. Even if I somehow manage to wrest the kingdom out of the regent's clutches and deal with the Betrayer without your help, I would still be trapped in a marriage with a female who couldn't possibly see every terrible inch of the male that I am and not simply accept it, but relish it. Even when you're frustrated at me, your eyes light with a fire that I want to consume us both. You're the wisest fae I've ever met, and the strongest, both in character and temperament. I've never been humbled so effectively, half the time without so much as a single word between us, and yet you achieve that feat with far more regularity than my arrogant high fae temper can withstand.”
Her eyes grow wet as she chuckles, the sound of it more of a sob that opens up new wounds inside me. Cupping her cheek reverently, I brush away her tears when they begin to fall, and my voice drops to a rasp. "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on, I knew it from the moment I first saw you. I was struck speechless at the mere sight of your face, my desire for you so consuming that when I finally realized you were a witch, I felt as though I betrayed my entire kingdom for craving you with the ferocity that I did."
Her tears still falling steadily, I can’t help but stoop down to capture her lips in a slow demand, a growl rumbling out of my chest when her tongue caresses mine without hesitation. When I pull back, my gaze caught on the pink patches over her cheeks, I whisper against her lips, "How a Favored Child born with the Ravenswyrd heart could ever love a male with a temperament such as mine is unfathomable to me…surely a blessing from the Fates I don’t deserve."
Tucking her into my side, I’m content to simply soak in the early morning air with her, and though we sit in a serene silence for several long moments, the smile that grows on her lips is teasing, despite the shadows that linger in her eyes. “Mygrandmother threatened to banish my father from the forest and our coven on my parent’s wedding day.”
My spine snaps straight as I shoot her a look of disbelief, but she only tugs at her bottom lip with her teeth as she nods, a nervous sort of amusement filling her at sharing this with me. “Papa saw my mother in the ceremonial robes and lost his senses. Inhisversions of the tale, he can’t recall what happened next, only that he launched himself at the nearest male who dared to look at her and lost all his good senses. In my mother’s version… well, it took three males and a bucket of icy water from the river to pry his hands from the poor male’s throat.”
Despite how much I’m enjoying her light tone, I can’t keep the growl from my own. “Those robes are an act of war… their intention is surely a form torture so merciless I cannot believe that the noble and guileless Favored Children would be responsible for their design.”
Her head drops a little as she clears her throat. “My father thought so, too. He told Mama that he’d be sent to the ashes early if I were ever to wear them. He attempted to sabotage them countless times over the years, utterly irreverent to the timeless traditions of the coven when it came to his children. Pem and I both—we got Papa’s temper for sure. I think the Fates knew we’d need it to see us through our time in the Northern Lands.”
Her voice cracks and she turns her face into my chest, no words left within her for such tales. Refusing to push her, I lean back against the door of the hut to settle her more comfortably on my chest. I pull the fur-lined collar of my cloak up to nestle against her face as she rests her ear over my heart. When my hand plunges into the soft tresses spilling across my chest she hums happily under her breath, stretching out a little before she settles into me. There's no reason to move, nothing so urgent that it could pull me away now, and when her breathing evensout I let my own eyes fall shut as well, the forest's song lulling us both to a dreamless sleep.
The humof the forest wakes me.
Rooke sleeps across my chest, my cloak wrapped around us, and she doesn't rouse when the forest's song changes tone. There's no concern or panic in the sound, so I know we’re not in danger, but Rooke is naked in my arms and the idea of anyone seeing her like this is intolerable. When the forest's tone turns welcoming, it's clear Cerson has returned.
My concerns shift from Rooke’s nakedness to my own, with no intentions of letting another female lay her eyes on me. Every inch of me belongs to my Fates-blessed wife alone, the greatest blessing the Fates have given me.
I carefully move her from my chest, stroking her hair and murmuring quietly to comfort her when she stirs. Once she’s settled back to sleep, I stand and pull some clothes back on, whatever is close enough to grab without taking my eyes off of Rooke. I've never seen her look so peaceful, certainly not sleeping thanks to the monsters who still hunt her, but there’s no mistaking the effects of her forest.
By the time I'm stepping down from the hut, Cerson rounds the corner with a harried edge to her movements. I pull the door until it’s mostly closed behind me and she meets my questioning gaze with a grim look, the first real marker of a soldier I've seen in the female. I've never questioned her capabilities, even before knowing which battalion she served within, but she stands before me now with all of the friendly smiles and joking lightin her eyes gone she reports with the seriousness of any good messenger.
"My apologies for returning so soon, Prince Soren, but circumstances have forced my hand. It’s become clear disloyalty and treasonous intent hides within Yregar. Whatever approach you choose to take with any royals and nobles found to be responsible, the soldiers should be dealt with immediately and without mercy. Better yet, let me do it for you."
Dread pools in my gut, not at the prospect of dealing with the high fae but the escalation of the war as it builds around us. I’ve waited for this moment for many long centuries, biding my time without a drop of true patience, yet knowing that my croí will be standing beside me on the battlefield is an entirely different torture, one I’m unprepared to endure. My unease is only heightened by the sounds of stirring in the hut as Rooke wakes without me beside her, my focus sharpening on her protectively despite the safety of the forest.
Mouth tightening into a firm line, my words are a reminder to myself more than Cerson. "War waits for no one, no matter how deserving. Has there been an attack or news from the kingdom?"
Cerson glances up as Rooke steps out the hut, her fighting robes neatly wound around her body thanks to her magic and though I am grateful for the ability and the privacy it affords her there's still a discontent bubbling in my blood at the ease with which our time slipped through our fingers.
"No truer words spoken, because no one deserves better than my Æfanya. We must make haste, I’m afraid. There are wounded soldiers waiting on our return, one of whom bears dire news from one of King Galen’s battalions."
Rooke’s face is wiped clean of the peace I was just admiring, her expression now grave as she nods curtly to Cerson in return.
Our bags are still tucked further into the hut and I leave them both behind to murmur with one another solemnly as I retrieve them. Far too many centuries of training between us, they’re still neatly packed and ready for our sudden departure. Looking up to me as I return, Cerson regards me curiously while Rooke reaches out to me, a pop of light flaring at her elbow as she stows our bags away.
"I would give you more time to say goodbye to the forest, but you’re needed rather urgently," Cerson murmurs, a mournful look across her brow, but Rooke only shakes her head.
"I’ll see it again soon, I'm sure. It’s by the forest’s design that I’m eager to see to the wounded; it impressed that nature upon all its Children."
As I step back into Rooke’s side my stomach clenches, both at the words that sound as though the forest speaks them and at the magic building around us all, but when she looks up to me, I give her a firm nod of my own. Waves of power wash over me, as unstoppable as the fiercest snowstorm of the Outlands, and our trip back to Yregar is as unbearable as the last.
When our feet land on solid ground once more I find Cerson has brought us straight into the Grand Hall, our household already waiting for us there. Rooke curses under her breath and moves away from me before the scent of blood that fills the room registers to me. Flicking her wrists to call on her magic, her satchel of healing supplies appears in her arms with a small burst of light.
"Are there more to come?"
Gage, who's elbows-deep in a gaping would tearing through Kytan's stomach, jerks his head to a goblin soldier splayed out on the second pallet. "Just these two, and thank the ashes for that. An act of the Fates that Prince Roan reached the commander only moments after he was injured to stem the blood flow, and yet another blessing that Gideon was nearby. Mybrother may be shit at the true art of healing but he’s kept the commander from bleeding out before I could offer my aid.”
Rooke ducks around to kneel at Gage’s side, her eyes sharp she assesses the gravity of Kytan’s wound. She offers quiet praises to the Briarfrost prince for his efforts so far but he looks relieved when she moves to take over from him, the two of them murmuring to each other quietly as they switch positions. The hand-off is slow, every movement considered as instruments and gauzes shift from hand to hand, all so the commander doesn't bleed out. The entire room lets out a long breath when Gage steps back to leave the healing to Rooke.
"I thought to bring Thea up with me for a valuable introduction of the healing arts, but Prince Roan thought it unwise," Cerson murmurs as she moves around Kytan's body to get a better look.
