Page 95 of Ravenrose

I recognize the carved gold rose on the hilt instantly.

Gods, is he going to kill me with my own blade?

Panic spikes and I try to step back, but he catches hold of the rope binding my hands and drags me back, bringing the sharp end of the blade closer, slipping it between the ropes—a quick slice. The ropes fall away, and in the same moment, he releases his hold on me. Flipping the knife mid-air before pressing the hilt into my palm.

I stare up at him, and the look he gives me is severe. I stare into the dark depths of his eyes, which seem to darken further, wild with rage.

“Don’t die.” That’s all he says before he grips hold of Dash’s reins, spinning him before slapping the horse hard on the rump, sending the stallion careening into the forest. And then his back is to me, already engaging the nearest fae soldier in battle.

I’m frozen where I stand, gripping the dagger tightly in my hands as my eyes dart around the chaotic scene before me.

Do I fight?

Should I run?

Ayer’s company only has fifteen men. The fae have nearly double, but the humans have managed to hold the line against them. The tight space has only proven to be an advantage as it keeps them together, forcing the fae to fight them one on one.

Stay or run.

I don’t recognize the fae warriors, and their armour—it’s unfamiliar, unmarked with any fae kingdom’s crest. And that one soldier, when he made that run at Ayer and me, there was hate in his eyes. And not for Ayer, but for me. There was no mistaking that his intention was to kill me.

Fae or not, these soldiers are not my friends.

Scanning the fight, I seek out Ayer. He’s in the thick of battle now, moving fast, lethal. He cuts through soldiers as if they’re standing still, striking with brutal efficiency.

I take a hesitant step to my right, edging closer to the dark and empty woods. No one stops me—no one can.

I take one more bold step before breaking into a run, diving between the trees and leaving Ayer, his company—leaving it all behind.

Chapter 42

ROWAN

Irun until my lungs burn and my legs feel as though they can’t take one more step, coming to a stop inside a small clearing somewhere deep in the woods.

The commotion of the fight has faded away, along with the light. Night has fallen and, by the sounds of it, no one’s followed me—at least not yet. What I do hear is rushing water somewhere close by.

Good. That means fresh water is nearby.

Relief courses through me.

I did it. I actually did it! I got away.

I sag back against the trunk of a large oak, taking a second to catch my breath. The fever broke hours ago, and most of my symptoms have ebbed along with it, but it’s left me feeling hollowed out—weak, shaking, and exhausted.

Running for my life certainly didn’t help.

And it’s freezing. The cold air threatens to leach the last of my energy from my bones with incessant shivering. So cold.

But I don’t dare attempt a fire. Armed only with my dagger, a fire could attract more fae soldiers, Kovari soldiers, or worse…

An image of the tree monster flashes through my mind, and I slowly lift my gaze to inspect the tree at my back—making sure it’s not about to come alive and try to eat me.

Once assured my tree is just your regular old run-of-the-mill tree, I nod off for a bit. I just need a few minutes of rest… Only to startle awake, who-knows-how-long later, to the sound of male voices nearby.

My body tenses, and I tighten my grip on my dagger. I fell asleep holding it. I regret not choosing a more concealed hiding spot. In my exhausted state, I left myself vulnerable where I sit, exposed to anyone who might walk through the clearing.

The voices are so close I remain perfectly still, afraid to even breathe too loudly; the slightest crack of a branch and they’ll hear me. I weigh the risks, uncertain whether to stay or catch them off guard and make a run for it. But ultimately, I don’t get to choose. They find me.