Page 26 of Heart’s Rescue

Arryn

Unwelcome Visitors

“Where’s my pack?” I ask.

Rowan and Phaedron frown at each other for a moment, and then Phaedron turns to me with a sort of frown that makes me think he’s about to say something condescending. Rowan cuts him off.

“Lady,” Rowan says, his bright blue eyes flashing, “this is your pack.”

I raise an eyebrow at the leather-wrapped packboard monstrosity leaning against the wall. Rowan is lying, of course, but I’ll go with it. Let’s see how stupid they think I am.

“Great,” I reply, all cheery enthusiasm. “Where’s yours, Rowan?”

Rowan's smile evaporates, and a strange, haunted expression crosses his face. “Oh, Lady Arryn, I’ll bear a far greater burden.”

Some of the cold I felt yesterday creeps across my skin, although the fire is roaring this morning and the little cabin is warm. Stars, what do I know about this world I just fell into? Yesterday Rowan hid me in a barn that had been ripped apart in cataclysmic fashion, and then he brought me home to his brother, who’d clearly also just been ripped apart. I don’t even know if this is rare for them, these kinds of monster attacks. Maybe Rowan really is going to lug something horrible with us into the woods.

With a pained sort of frown, Rowan reaches into his shirt and pulls out a folded piece of yellowed parchment. He meets my eyes with a solemn nod.

“I’ve got the map,” he says.

Oh. So he is lying, then.

“You poor thing,” I reply, making my eyes go wide, just like I do when any noble person from the Royal Court tries to impress me. Including my beloved. “That looks awful. Will you need my help with that, too?”

A strange expression ripples across Rowan's face, and then he laughs. Really laughs. It’s strong and warm and I get the sense it surprised him. Some of the giddy, rebellious pleasure I felt last night when he’d tilted a mysterious bottle in my direction flares again in my chest. My first thought had been Mother’s face, twisted in horrified disapproval that two strangers, two strange men, two strange and low-born men, would dare to offer me alcohol.

Racing on the heels of that thought came the knowledge that I had never been further from Mother in my entire life, and I’d felt dizzy even before I’d slugged down whatever vile concoction Rowan had poured out of that bottle.

Careful, whispered the reasonable, mature part of me. The part that always spoke with Mother’s voice. Careful, Arryn. Remember your place.

“Seriously,” I say, once Rowan's laughter fades. “Wouldn’t it make more sense to have two packs?”

Phaedron’s face goes solemn again. He’s barely moved this morning; when I woke up, Rowan was gently feeding him one of the leftover biscuits he’d offered to me last night. Phaedron opens his mouth.

“Yes,” Rowan answers before his brother can speak. “Yes, it would. In fact—”

Phaedron shoots him an angry look that Rowan blithely ignores.

“I was just about to start packing yours,” Rowan finishes, with a wide, innocent grin.

“Lady Arryn,” Phaedron says. “I assure you, my brother is more than competent.”

It sounds like every word hurts, and once again I’m wondering what under the stars happened to this man. What kind of monster ripped him apart?

“Barely competent, you mean,” Rowan says, giving Phaedron an affectionate smile. “Lemme get you some more of that painkiller, Phae.”

Phaedron scowls. For a moment, he looks like he’s going to snap, and then he sighs and sinks back into the pillows.

“Fine,” Phaedron mutters.

“Hey, happy to help,” Rowan replies.

He’s still smiling, but there’s a tightness in his expression that pulls my eyes toward the mess of bandages beneath the open collar of Phaedron’s shirt, and then past that to the sleeve hanging empty on his right side. How had he even survived an attack like that? Rowan moves past me toward the little kitchen area, grabs a bottle off the counter, and shakes it.

“I guess I’m just your right-hand man now,” Rowan says.

Phaedron groans then turns to meet my eyes.