Page 32 of Ravenrose

But I saw enough to know I’m deep inside the Kovarian war camp. And with the prince’s tent in such close proximity, I am either at or close to the center. Thousands of soldiers likely stand between me and the woods. And even if I were to make it, the woods themselves would not only be my salvation—they would be my next threat. I’ve never been permitted to enter the Wyldewood on my own for good reason.

No. I run my tongue over the rough edges of my split lip; the bitter metallic taste tells me it’s still oozing blood. Escape is a long shot. I made this decision when I sealed the tunnel: he will kill me, or I will make him.

More time passes, the hour growing late, and with it comes the sounds of revelry—soldiers celebrating their victory outside. Their merriment carries on long into the night. It’s a welcome distraction as I try my best to avoid playing out scenario after scenario in my head.

I shift uncomfortably. I have to be so careful in my movements now as the restraints have rubbed my wrists raw, my fingers sticky with my own blood.

I shift my weight again, curling in on myself at the base of the pole, trying my best to relieve the ache from the cold in my legs and warm up my half-frozen body, when movement by the door has me instantly still.

The tent flap rips back, a dark figure stepping through, and an involuntary shiver tears through me at the sight.

It’s so dark—the candles have burned nearly all the way down. I can’t make out his face, but I don’t have to; I’m certain—it’s him. The tall, commanding presence with just a touch of arrogance can’t belong to anyone else.

I sit as still as stone, my back ramrod straight, pressed hard into the wood.

He hasn’t seen me yet. The pole to which I’m tied sits far back from the entrance, the shadows working in my favor for once.

Like prey trying not to attract the attention of a predator, I remain motionless—refusing to blink while barely breathing.

The captain enters his tent, removing a bow and quiver from his back before setting it down by the door. Next, he unbelts his sword from his waist, setting the weapon further inside, up against the small table.

He pulls down his blood-red cowl, revealing his braids and face as he leans down to make use of the washbasin, not bothering to heat the water first.

While attempting to become one with the pole, I seize the opportunity to study him more closely. He’s tall, broad, with muscled shoulders, and arms nearly as wide as my waist. His presence alone makes the tent feel infinitely smaller. Dried blood and dirt do little to diminish how handsome he actually is, with high cheekbones and a chiseled jawline. In the dim light of the tent, his hair looks to be a muddy brown, and while the sides of it are shaved, the rest is left long, pulled and braided intricately back away from his face and tied securely behind his head with a leather cord. The black marks across his face and skull are even more smudged than they were before, confirming they were painted on like I’d guessed earlier. The darker and unrelenting ink of his tattoos curl up his neck in swirling patterns, or perhaps even runes, which piques my interest.

Runes haven’t been used for centuries—not since the fae abandoned the old teachings after the tethering. I’ve only ever seen their likeness in the oldest books in Rosecliff’s library, but the runes crawling up the captain’s arm and neck don’t look like anything I’ve ever seen before. Seeing the delicate and intricate markings etched atop the tanned and hardened skin of a Kovari warrior is… unexpected.

Rusic shifts closer to the candlelight, and the orange glow reveals subtle flashes of gold within his hair, nearly hidden completely under a thick layer of dirt and grime. I watch as he washes off the dark red splatters on his face and arms with little to no emotion. The way he moves reminds me of the fae warriors Fel and Riven train with—purposeful, intent, exuding strength in power in every motion. He is dangerous. And I’d do best to remember that.

With the dirt and blood washed away, his youth is even more apparent. Nowhere near the age I would expect for someone of his rank. He looks far closer in age to Fel, or his own buddy—the prince—just a few years older than me.

“Fel’s sister.” Theo’s words haunt my thoughts. So oddly specific. Do they know each other?

I’m the Princess of Sitara, but Theo seemed far more interested in the fact I am my brother’s sister. What does Fel have to do with any of this? He might be the heir, but he wasn’t even here for the battle…

Although Fel and his men captured Theo just outside of Rosecliff, Theo hardly seemed vengeful over it. Though he did mention the captain was owed Valrose blood.

Why?

Rusic reaches across his shoulder, unfastening the buckle of the black armoured chest plate, sliding it off. The leather slips away, revealing more powerful muscles, the candlelight causing shadows to dance along the deep crevices. Nearly every inch of skin is covered in those same swirling black markings.

Leaning further over the basin, he rinses his face one last time, staring into the water for a long while before releasing a sigh.

I don’t move; my breath catches as my lungs constrict in my chest.

The captain’s hand trails slowly down his face, before his dark eyes lift, stopping the racing heart in my chest the moment they lock with mine.

I swallow hard, staring into obsidian eyes, nearly as dark as the shadow stones themselves. My own strangled breath betrays me, a small whimper squeaking through. Alarm bells ring in my head, every one of them urging me to run.

But I can’t.

Still, I make one more feeble attempt to pull a hand free of the iron cuffs while stifling yet another whimper that forms in my throat.

The captain’s eyes take me in, but he does not move—doesn’t stalk over to inspect his present. Instead, the man rises slowly, his dark eyes glittering with a white-hot rage, his gaze never leaving me. He moves so slowly, giving no warning before suddenly shoving the basin from the table. The metal bowl crashes down with an alarming clatter.

I flinch—hard.

My heart pounds within my chest, so loud I can hear it in my ears. I freeze again, the captain’s furious gaze pinning me in his sights.