Page 60 of Ravenrose

Food for information.

Survival for compliance.

But as much as she wants the water, she is not quite sure if she’s desperate enough to play.

Yet.

She doesn’t answer, and so I move down my list: “Where are your brothers?”

Her jaw tightens, and there’s a flash of something in her eyes. Anger maybe? Fire, for sure; I bet my rune is already burning her wrist as she silently plots my murder.

“Where did the rest of your court go?” I continue, tilting my head to the side as I study her reaction to each one of my questions.

She says nothing, her jaw locking stubbornly.

I let the silence stretch between us, with her refusing to meet my gaze again, preferring to stare deep into the dark forest instead.

Her silence is an answer for us both.

She’d rather die of thirst than answer me.

Stubborn. So godsdamned stubborn.

I sigh. The Wyldewood is no walk in the moonlight. Our journey over the next few days will be tough, going over some very rough terrain. And I’ll consider us lucky if the terrain is the biggest threat we’ll face in these woods.

I stare at her for a few more seconds before pulling out a small wrapping of bread and cheese, holding it out to her.

Her eyes snap up, eyeing the small parcel of food in my hand. She doesn’t take it, suspicion replacing surprise.

So stubborn.

“If I wanted you dead,” I mutter, “I wouldn’t do it with bread and cheese.”

She narrows her eyes, but still refuses to come any closer.

My patience thins. Roughly, I unwrap the parchment, rip off a small bite of cheese, and place it in my mouth, chewing pointedly before I swallow.

Nothing happens. Obviously.

Yet she still doesn’t take the food.

I’m too tired for this. I take a step forward, considering just shoving it into her hands, but she steps back—fast. Careful to keep the distance between us, opting for an extra foot this time.

Working my jaw, I freeze, before leaning down to place the bread and cheese on the log just next to me. Then I unhook the water satchel at my belt—the one she just watched me drink from—leaving that behind too.

I don’t wait to see what she does.

Eat it… Starve… I don’t care.

My jaw clenches tight along with my fists at my side as I stalk irritably away from the princess. I spot Wyatt watching from the edge of the clearing. He gives me a nod when he notices my gaze.

The first watch is his.

We’ll rotate.

I meant what I said before; I trust my men with my life, but not with hers. Hatred for the fae runs too deep. And hatred leads to poor decisions. Most of my guys have stories just like mine: lost everything to the fae—to Sitara—and only my loyalty to Theo keeps me from wringing my hands around the little princess’ neck.

Theo, Hayes, and Wyatt.