Page 43 of Ravenrose

I still need to work out what my brother has to do with any of this. What does Fel have to do with keeping me alive—or giving me to Ayer?

The victory won’t be in killing me. No, it will be in breaking me.

Anxiety gives way to a fresh rush of adrenaline. Pushing myself back up to my feet, I pace the tent again.

Am I really going to sit here like a good little pet waiting for my master to return? Ayer left me unbound. And through the tent’s vent, I can see the sky is dark; the sun hasn’t risen yet. I still have my dagger, and I can reach it now. The second the blade crosses my mind, my fingers find it. The smooth handle in the palm of my hand offers me the briefest moment of comfort.

The soldiers are still busy tying up loose ends after taking Rosecliff. Who knows if, once we leave here, they’ll leave me alone and unsupervised again? This might be my only chance, this one opportunity; I’d be a fool to pass it up.

Mind made up, I dart quickly over to the tent entrance, stealing a peek outside.

The camp has long since calmed down following the celebratory ruckus that took up most of the night. Dawn is still a few hours off.

My eyes survey the surrounding tents, still shrouded in darkness; most of their fires have been put out, and some emit low light from dying embers. A few feet to my right, I can make out one of the soldiers from earlier.

Wyatt.

Most likely the guard Ayer appointed to stand watch. He’s standing several tents up, talking to someone, his back angled to me.

It’s now or never.

While Wyatt’s distracted, I slip out of the tent, pressing close to its outside wall. Silently thanking Alita for picking out the darkly colored dress this morning. I keep my eyes on Wyatt and his companion, backing away from them, doing my best to stay steady on trembling feet as I move as quickly as I dare in the opposite direction.

Nearing the corner of the tent, I notice a small gap of space between Ayer’s tent and the neighboring one. It’s just large enough to conceal me while I plot out my next move.

Luck appears to be on my side, seeing as how Wyatt hasn’t once glanced in my direction—too absorbed in his conversation.

But just as I’m about to reach the corner of the tent, my back slams hard against something that feels an awful lot like solid stone.

Confused, I freeze. I’m certain there was nothing standing between me and the tent’s edge.

“Never trust a fae,” a deep voice mutters, just above my ear.

My heart is in my throat. I spin around, peering up into dangerously familiar dark eyes. Ayer stares down at me with a look of bored irritation, but has not yet grabbed ahold of me.

The dart of my eyes gives me away. I make it only one step before a large hand wraps around my upper arm, hauling me roughly back.

My struggle draws attention to us. Wyatt and his companion look up at the sight of Ayer approaching, dragging my flailing ass alongside him. Both straighten to attention, awaiting an order from their captain.

He growls something unintelligible at them before shoving me back through the tent flaps.

“It was a trap?!” I hiss, glaring as he manhandles me back inside. Ayer lets go of me so quickly, I almost fall.

He leaves me standing by the tent’s opening, circling around to face me. Too close—still much too close. I fight the urge to step back.

“Perhaps,” he taunts with a glimmer of malice in his eyes. “I knew you would try to run. Fae always cause trouble.” He leans in until he’s mere inches from my face. “You could have at least made it a little more interesting, don’t you think? Did you honestly believe you could just walk right out the tent’s entrance?”

He scoffs and, oh, the urge to slap him across his stupid face is strong. My hand twitches murderously at my side.

Ayer levels me with a knowing smirk. “In the future, you would do well to heed my warnings.” The amusement fades, and darkness creeps back into his eyes as they bore into me. “And I do expect you to follow orders.”

I give him a scoff of my own, lifting my chin and folding my arms across my chest. “I don’t take orders,” I sniff, looking him up and down as if he doesn’t terrify the shit out of me. Gods, he’s tall. Far north of six feet. Much taller than me. “Especially not from you.” My expression changes to that of utter disdain as I glare back at him, refusing to look away or show any sign of deference or defeat.

Ayer’s expression hardens as he straightens to his full height, towering over me. My chin lifts uncomfortably in order to hold his gaze. I’m proud to say I don’t jump when his deep voice booms over me, calling to his men outside. “Put her out!”

My brow furrows, and my gaze darts from him to the tent’s opening, where Wyatt and his friend suddenly appear.

But with Ayer just inches from me, and two Kovari soldiers closing in, there’s nowhere for me to go. Still, I attempt to bolt, but I’m caught before I even manage a step.