Page 151 of Ravenrose

I find myself now included in conversations, and even jokes, amongst the men throughout the day. Wyatt or Ayer are never too far off, one of them always watching, but I’ve been allowed to move about the village as I pleased.

I met the villagers, listened to their stories, and stars, it was difficult to hear.

The raid. The bloodshed. The worst part might be how they spoke of it as though it’s not anything out of the ordinary. And apparently, it’s not. The fae raid their villages relentlessly. So many lives have been lost—or taken—whole communities destroyed. Between the raiders and the Sitaran army, these border villages live in constant fear of the fae.

Wyatt and I take a break for lunch, sitting on the edge of the village, near the forest, looking over a group of children playing nearby with an old ball they’d found. We’re nearly half done before I work up the nerve to ask Wyatt the one question that’s been nagging me from the start.

“Why?” I ask, softly.

Wyatt stiffens beside me, knowing what I’m asking him without needing me to elaborate.

He studies me for a moment, as if he’s deciding whether or not I can handle the real answer. He reminds me quite a bit of Theo. Similar build, the same sharp features, but Wyatt’s hair is longer and darker, a rich brown instead of gold. Bright, sapphire blue eyes stare back at me.

“Because they can,” Wyatt finally says with a shrug, going right back to his bread and cheese.

I release a breath, looking back over the village, debating if it’s wise to continue.

My gaze catches on something lying in the dirt, not too far away. Upon closer inspection, I find it’s a singed stuffed bear. It rests atop the remains of what must have been someone’s bed. Fire had burned most of the house around it away.

“How often?” I ask him, remembering the way the villagers spoke of raids like these as if they were an inevitability.

“Too often,” he says and my jaw tightens. “The raids have only gotten worse over the last few years. Every couple of weeks now, along the border towns. Sometimes more.” He frowns. “Many of the villages have since been abandoned—or destroyed.” His jaw clenches as he looks around at what’s left of the village in front of us.

I shake my head slowly, trying to process what I’m hearing and everything I’ve seen these last twenty-four hours. “I don’t understand. Sitara should have stepped in to protect⁠—”

“Sitara is the reason for it.” The venom in Wyatt’s voice startles me.

His face softens when he takes in the shocked look on my face. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have⁠—”

“No.” I stop him, shifting to look him in the eye. “No. Tell me what you were going to say.”

There’s a grim expression on his face, but he nods, continuing. “Well, Sitara—Sitara looks the other way. They allow raiders to move freely through fae territory, to their ports.” His eyes flick to me, watching my face cautiously. “Sitara buys most of the slaves the raiders bring in.”

“No,” I gasp—in shock? Surprise? I’m not sure. My first instinct is to slap him—to deny it. There are no slaves in Sitara… But the look on Wyatt’s face… He’s too young to carry this kind of bitterness—this grief—for it to be a lie.

Wyatt just nods in silent confirmation, and my mind goes to the fall of Rosecliff.

Ayer—Kovaria—slaughtered the fae guards but spared all the human servants…

Most of the servants came into service at Rosecliff after losing their homes and families to raids along the borders… I look around at the burned village surrounding me, and a sinking feeling settles in my chest.

After a long while, Wyatt motions for us to wrap up our lunch. Around us, Ayer’s command has begun readying their horses for our ride back to the fort today. My stomach tightens at the thought of returning to that gods-awful fort, but I rise and follow him back to the village silently, my mind desperately searching for a way to make sense of all of this.

We’ve nearly reached the village when my question spills out. “But the attacks—the humans—Kovaria. They attack the fae too?” I recall all the talk of Kovarian raids along the fae border within the court.

Confusion crosses Wyatt’s face, and his head tilts slightly to the side as he stops to think about what I’ve asked. “What attacks?”

“Like the one on Rosecliff,” I insist, my words coming quickly, needing justification for my kingdom’s actions. “The humans…” My eyes meet Wyatt’s. “You guys…” I correct. “You attack the fae border villages all the time too… Don’t you?” My voice fades out on the question.

Wyatt lets out a long breath before resting a hand lightly on my shoulder.

“Princess,” he says, his voice gentle as he waves an arm back to the village at his back. “Look around. These villages barely have two broomsticks and an axe to cobble together for their own defense. What makes you think they’re out here carrying out raids on fae lands?

His words ring true. Even the destruction couldn’t mask the overall state the village had been in before the raiders attacked. The villagers are thin, their homes and buildings patched together; these people hardly had anything to begin with.

And now they have even less.

The ride back to the fort is nothing like the chaotic adrenaline rush the ride to the village was.