My voice is harsh in my own ears, but Rooke doesn’t react beyond her fingers stroking my temple in a soothing rhythm as she murmurs back, “That’s all I can spare for now, but I couldn’t leave you to bear this pain alone, not after what you’ve done for the forest.”
I grimace. “A single sacrifice isnothing, Rooke. Nothing to this forest, or the kingdom. You should leave me to endure the pain ten-fold for what the high fae have done.”
I know I must look thunderous in my frustration, but she stares at me unflinching, calm even in the face of my anger. She’s never been afraid of me, or anything. No matter the danger she’s faced, it’s only her nightmares that ever get the better of her, and no shame in that. I wonder if she’s always been so valiant, or if facing the monsters of the Fates has rendered all other foes powerless.
The crackle of the fire catches my attention, the popping sounds stark in the stillness of the night. I glance over to find the horses tethered securely to a tree, buckets of water and oats at their feet. Nightspark is snorting and fussing at Northern Star’s side, but it’s a content sound as he rubs his muzzle affectionately against her flank. She eats slowly, the bucket still full as he lets her get her fill first, and only when she moves away to drink does he finally take his turn.
There’s a line of magic surrounding us, the snow falling at a lazy but steady pace marking the edge with a sharp line, and only the smoke of the fire can pass through the barrier. Tyton has never had that sort of control, and yet Rooke kneels comfortably between my legs, hands stroking away the worst of the pain with distraction and shows no signs of struggle with the magic being cast.
There’s a small tent behind Rooke, its open flap showing our packs stowed away there, and a single bed roll laid out already, the other still secured to Rooke’s pack as though she intends to keep watch by the fire all night. My expression doesn’t change, the pain still furrowing my brow and concealing any twitches or ticks that would normally show, but my Fates-blessed mate has surely been watching me more closely than I ever would’ve guessed. Closer than I deserve, because she didn’t just makenote of the dangers I might pose to her. She’s keenly aware of my ego and my arrogance, clearly sensing the indignant churn of my gut souring my enjoyment of her coaxing petting, the uncontainable reaction I have at the mere idea of leaving her out here to keep watch while I sleep and heal.
She leans forward until she blocks my view of the tent, her other hand coming up to lace through my fingers that are still clutching my head. “You need to sleep, Soren, and not just because I hate to see you in pain like this. Your magic is drained and must be treated like a wound; sleep is the only remedy for this affliction. I’ll cast sparingly while you’re depleted, but there’s no use dragging this out. I’ll keep you safe. On our fate, I swear it.”
Her expression is solemn in the way of a good soldier, unflinching at the task at hand, and I try to memorize every inch of her features as yet another facet of my Fates-blessed mate is revealed to me. It was reckless of me to pour my magic into the earth, rash in a way I’ve never allowed myself to be, but the weight of the forest’s disapproval was unbearable. Even now my fingers itch with the need to avenge, to make right, because I’ve never been a male of cheap words. I’ve made a promise, and I’ll keep it, for the forest and my Fates-blessed mate and the countless other fae folk whose lives were torn apart by this war.
Rooke’s fingers rub gently at a soft patch of my hair, one finger finding the point of my ear and tracing down it a little as she pets me, and I curse my pounding head and churning gut that stop me from being able to properly enjoy such treatment. Or, better yet, take advantage of it and find some soft patches on her to claim for my touch. Her skin is pale in the darkness, but the freckles still dance across her nose and small curls lay over her temples where they’ve escaped her braid. I’ve never craved the touch of another more in my life, never been so desperate to keep a female’s attention, and despite how exposed we are rightnow, keeping her gaze trained solely on me is the only concern my pain-addled mind can grasp right now.
As though listening to my thoughts, the forest murmurs in my heart, a small tempo change in the thrumming there, and the little boy’s face flashes in my mind. I see him as clearly as I see Rooke before me, as though the forest lost him only hours and not many centuries ago.
A curse bursts out of me, and Rooke moves her hands away from me in a rush, frowning as she scours my face for whatever ailment has overcome me, but I shake my head curtly, squeezing my eyes shut as I grab her hands and press them back where they belong. I turn my cheek into her palm, growling under my breath in frustration at the piercing jolt of pain bouncing around my skull that the movement causes.
When I can form words again, I mutter, “I recognized the high-fae soldiers responsible for this… all of them. My promise to the forest stands for as long as I draw breath. No mercy for the Betrayers.”
Rooke’s head tilts, her eyebrows drawing even further together before she blows out a slow breath. “The forest showed you the coven’s demise… that’s why it forged a connection with you. No wonder you’re in so much pain. I know the tale of what happened here well enough.”
“Kharl killed the coven, but it was my uncle’s command to kill the children. They slaughtered them all.” I almost choke on the bile that creeps up my throat again.
I lean away from her as disgust and shame for my bloodline threaten to break my tenuous grasp on my temper. Her hands slip from me, but she doesn't move away. Sitting back on her heels, she kneels before me with my legs on either side of her, her heartbeat steady in my ears, a reminder to keep my wits about me.
Rooke stares back at me for a moment, as though considering her answer, before she replies, “Almost all of them… one made it out alive.”
“Hanede.” His name falls from my lips easily.
Rooke swallows roughly and nods, finally glancing away from me as though even the sound of it pains her, and my stomach drops violently. “Did he make it to the Ravenswyrd Forest? Did he die there with your family?”
She clears her throat, still looking away. “He made it to my family, long before I was born, and my father saw him safely to Port Asmyr. Hanede never forgot the gift of sanctuary my family gave him, or the passage to safety. When my brother and I arrived in Sol City, he was one of the first to greet us.”
The desolation in her voice rakes at me, compelling me to reach for her again and find some way to comfort her. I push one of her stray curls away from her temple and cup her cheek just as she’d cradled mine, and her breath catches in her throat. Satisfaction, or maybe victory, heats my blood at her reaction, doubling when a light blush creeps along her cheeks. She doesn't feel the same compulsions of the Fates as I do, that much is clear, but she feelssomethingfor me.
She clears her throat delicately, her voice just a little breathy. “You have to sleep, Soren. The magic drain will only get worse if you don't take care of yourself.”
My eyes are searing as I hold her gaze, shoving the pain aside. I certainly want to take care of something, but sleep isn’t my main concern.
She raises an eyebrow, staunchly ignoring her own reactions. “There's a long journey ahead of us, no matter what path we choose. I don’t want to knock you out, but I will, and it’ll be easier on me if you’re in the tent.”
Glancing at the single bed roll already set out, I see the validity of her plan. I stand slowly, relieved when my legs aresteady underneath me, but when I hold out my hand to Rooke she shakes her head.
“I’ll keep watch tonight.”
I give her a hard look back. “Under no circumstances am I going to sleep while my Fates-blessed mate sits out here alone in the cold. No matter how fucking ignorant and cruel I’ve been in the past, I wouldneverleave you like that, croí.”
Rooke scoffs as she shakes her head, a hint of her blush returning. “I’m not a delicate female, and I’m well-versed at guard duties. If anything, I’ll enjoy the time to myself. I’ve missed long, peaceful nights amongst the trees.”
She looks up at the sky with a softness to her eyes, a longing to be out here. It wouldn’t be a hardship for her, and a good Fates-blessed mate would leave her, trusting her word and allowing her to make her own decisions, but I’ve never claimed to be one of those.
Taking her elbow in my hand, I all but drag her to the tent. She huffs when I gently push her inside and follow closely behind so she can’t just step back out. The tent is tall enough for her to stand, but I have to hunch over, my head pounding at the angle and demanding I make quick work of getting us both settled for the night. I ignore her indignant muttering as I set up her bedroll next to mine, the edges overlapping in an entirely impractical way.
I have no intention of letting her pull it to the far side, even the handspan of space that would put between us would be intolerable, and there’s too much pain writhing within me at the loss of my magic stores to play along with that farce.
