The hot sun beamed down on the dusty streets of Wendlyn, boiling under Rowan's talons as he perched himself on a nearby rooftop in his hawk form. Frustration throbbed within him like a beating drum as he watched the young woman adjacent to him sunning herself like a snake and she was his prey. The woman had one hand slung over her face shielding it from the sun and the other clasped around an empty wine bottle. Her clothes were filthy and torn and her golden hair was greasy and hung limply around her face. Maeve had assigned him to bring her for an 'inspection' and judging by the state of this 'assassin' he doubted she would put up much of a fight. It was a sorry sight to watch as she groaned, before pealing herself off the roof and stumbled her way to the drain pipe before she shimmied down it with surprise precision. Taking off he followed her as she slunk into the busy streets.

Rowan stifled a grin when he spotted her again down in an alleyway. As she stumbled down the street, it was extremely hard to stifle his laughter as an old, haggard woman mistook her for a fellow vagrant. She did look like it and that made the scene extremely amusing.
"Slattern! Don't let me catch you in front of my door again!" The woman croaked at her. Rowan would have thought that she would have gutted the woman right then and there; he certainly would have. But she simply stumbled back and blinked at the mad woman as if she didn't hear the insult.
"Sorry." Her voice was no louder than a whisper, filled with sorrow. Rowan frowned at that, Maeve had told him that if she was anything like her mother then she would be a handful.
The hag spat a wad of phlegm at her feet, her expression a mask of furry. The assassin didn't react, he didn't bother stifling his chuckle as he began to walk towards her.

The girl stood dead in his tracks as he continued down the alleyway. The other vagrants and prostitutes prowling the streets scuttled back into the shadows like rats. She smelt awful, no doubt she had been here for over a week and had clearly decided that she wasn't going to wash, he knew she took a small delight in this and he grimaced. Bellow that, he could smell the ash and jasmine in her Fae blood, a perfect cocktail of wild and feminine. Her sunburnt face was bruised and gaunt and her sickly expression of pure terror made her look no more than a child as he approached her. Her eyes, Ashryver eyes were rimmed with gold that should have shone in the sunlight like the burning fire within her. However, there was an emptiness there that made him almost shiver, as if he was looking in a mirror.

Her expression quickly changed as she sauntered up to him and her split lip maneuvered into a wide smirk as if he couldn't sense the sheer fear that lay under her skin.
"Well met, my friend," her voice was sultry, nothing like the way she spoke to that old vagrant. "Well met, indeed." He ignored the shocked faces around them, noting that one look from him would cast them back into the shadows of the alleyway. He tried not to grin back at her as she tried to calm her self down. He heard every thump of her pulse and watched as drops of sweat ran down her neck and beneath her clothes. For some reason who took great delight in that.
"What a lovely surprise." Her voice was angelic but there was an undercurrent of venom beneath it that jabbed at him making his blood boil. "I thought we were to meet at the city walls." Arrogant and bratty, that was what she was, and it made him furious. He had better things to do than this.
"Let's go." He said, keeping his expression bored. If Maeve was right about her being a handful, he had a long journey ahead of him.

Surprisingly, she didn't say another word as they weaved through the streets until they finally stopped before two horses. She stuffed her satchel into the saddlebag when he noticed the thin scars that ran around her wrists. She made a lousy attempt to cover them up, but he didn't bother mocking or questioning her even though he was curious.
"I've known a few brooding warrior-types in my day, but I think you might be the broodiest of them all." He looked her up and down, inwardly seething. She knew nothing about him or the things he has done. "Oh, hello. I think you know who I am, so I won't bother introducing myself. But before I'm carted off to gods-knows-where, I'd like to know who you are." She was deliberately trying to get under his skin, that was what assassins did but why did it work?

Rowan glanced around the square at the many people who were definitely listening to their conversation. The citizens immediately found somewhere else to be when they realised his stare.
He grimaced, "You've gathered enough about me at this point to have learned what you need to know." The assassin tilted her head examining his face. Frustration boiled in his vanes and he had a sudden urge to through her into the mud behind her.
"Fair enough. But what am I to call you?" Her voice appeared seductive again with the undercurrent of venom.
"Rowan."
"Well, Rowan-"Oh that tone made him seeth, maybe he should gut her just to teach her a lesson. Why was she getting under his skin so easily, did he have an ounce of control?
"Dare I ask where we're going?" He took a deep breath calming himself, she had to be drunk or she wouldn't be talking to him like this.
He simply answered in a frosty huff, "I'm taking you where you have been summoned." And with that his horse went into a canter, the assassin following closely behind.

They rode in a frosty silence which he had to say he enjoyed. Rowan knew who she was and her history but what scared him the most was her eyes. She had glanced into Ashryver eyes before but none were as soulless as hers. The emptiness in her eyes made her look old and worn, he noted. She had seen things though he doubted they would be to the severity of his encounters. Yes, she was a spoilt brat who lived lavishly as an 'assassin' parading the streets of Rifthold in her expensive clothes. Completely disregarding the pleas and screams of her people.

It was dark when they finally stopped in a small glen within the thick greenery of the forest. He stifled a laugh as the girl followed him to the nearby stream, tripping and stumbling on the roots and saplings that lounged on the forest floor. Giving her privacy, Rowan tied the horses to a sturdy branch before toppling to the ground. He didn't realise how tired he was until now. Gods Maeve was giving him a headache, he hadn't stopped for six months. It wasn't long before the assassin returned, propping herself against a tree across from him. The moonlight made her golden locks glow and although she looked like she hadn't slept in weeks he had to admit; she was very beautiful. They were silent as they ate the contents of one of his packs. The bread was stale and the cheese warm, but she seemed content having something more the teggya and sour wine.

Rowan rested his head against the trunk and closed his eyes. Imagining a better world, a world without pain. It wasn't long before he was sleeping where Lyria's chocolate locks fell around his face as she straddled him. Her laugh made him shiver as she kissed down his neck and chest. Her belly was a lot rounder these days and he couldn't keep his hands from her; from his child, their child. Pure joy, this was joy. He kissed along her cheek and up to her ear when she screamed, a blinding plea of pure terror. Rowan pulled away, thinking he had hurt her, she screamed again. She was covered in blood before her lifeless body fell to the ground, her body heavily mutilated and disembowelled.
The words echoed around him, "You left me." He screamed for her, tears blinding him as he scrambled for her but all he felt was smoke and ash.

The sound of teeth chattering brought him back to consciousness. Gods, he was relieved that it was too dark for her to see him. To see his tears that rolled down his face, he wanted to ask if he had called out in his sleep but if he did, she would have mocked him by now. She was shivering her body not used to the frosty wind of the mountains.
"Are there so many threats in Wendlyn that we can't risk a fire?" Her words were lifeless, nothing compared to the hot jabs earlier, just a simple question.
"Not from mortals." It was an attempt to spook her which failed miserably as she turned her head away from him. Rowan grinned at that.

Leaves and twigs began to rustle around them and this time he felt her fear, though he simply closed his eyes. Her sudden fear was gone as she saw the Little Folk peer over the small boulders with their large eyes in awe at the sight of the assassin – no, the Queen. The whispers continued throughout the night, but Rowan doubted that her human ears could hear them as she appeared to be sleeping despite her near-constant shivering. He sent over a warm wind that wrapped around her like a blanket – Why he did that? He had no idea.

Author Note:

A huge thanks to everyone who read this, I have been wanting to write this for a while the next chapter should hopefully come out tomorrow on the 22nd of April. I will come up with a posting schedule if I get enough readers. Please review, it makes my writing better and will make the overall experience better.

Thanks, Belle.

xoxo