Page 172 of Ravenrose

Chapter 69

ROWAN

Everything hurts.

Every. Single. Inch.

My ribs ache with every breath, my knee throbbing and my shoulder stiff from where I slammed hard into the cliff.

For a few minutes—maybe longer—I just lay there, staring blankly overhead at the way the sun peeks through the treetops. How the light shifts and fights with shadow.

He didn’t follow me.

If he did, I’d already be dead.

It’s little comfort as I push myself up, immediately regretting the decision and hissing when I attempt to bear weight on my knee.

Ayer didn’t pursue me over the ravine, but that doesn’t mean he’s not still hunting me. Even now, he could be seeking a bridge—another way across.

That thought alone has me swallowing the growing well of pain and stepping deeper into the Skyen forest, but not before finding that oak.

And his arrow.

I rip it from the bark, studying it for a second before breaking off the wood and pocketing the tip.

It’s a better weapon than nothing. I still have my dagger, but somewhere in my flight to evade Ayer, I lost my bow and quiver.

It’s a slow trek. Tired and injured, it’s all I can manage.

A cold front has moved in, and the scent of rain in the air has me wrapping my arms tighter around myself.

Perfect. Just perfect.

I stumble through the forest in a daze for most of the morning, heading north as best I can. I’m cautious; every snap of a twig, every shifting shadow, spikes my heart rate.

By midday, exhaustion drags at every step, but still I freeze when I hear it: shouts—the sound of male voices drifting in on the wind.

My heartbeat quickens and I move forward slowly, trying not to get my hopes up at the familiar clanging of steel on steel.

Keeping low, I circle the area, until I find brush thick enough to peek from a safe distance.

The sight of the Skye colors flying high over the bustling war camp nearly sends me to my knees.

Still, I stay hidden at the top of the hill for most of the afternoon. Studying the comings and goings of the camp. Disappointment grows when I see no sign of the Sitara colors or flags. The little hope I had of reuniting with my brothers flames out.

The sight of Kane moving through the camp has me sitting a little straighter. His charcoal-colored armour glints in the late afternoon sun as he strides confidently through camp, disappearing into a large white tent near its center.

I sigh. It’s now or never.

Slowly, I pick my way down the rocky hillside toward the camp. I don’t even make it halfway before Skyen archers find me.

“Halt.”

I freeze, raising my hands so they can see them.

A moment later, a small group of Skyen soldiers approaches quickly. A tall male with fire-red hair at their center. His light green eyes pass over me with a look of bored suspicion. He gives a nod to his men, and they close rank around me, cutting off any hope of retreat into the woods.

Despite the pain, I draw myself up, lifting my chin to look the red-haired soldier in the eye, reminding myself that someday soon I am to be their queen.