Aelin took a step back. She put her hands on her hips, her gaze ferocious.
"You let me walk into you," she accused.
Rowan shrugged nonchalantly, his heart beating a bit faster than normal.
"It's not my fault you weren't looking where you were going."
"A little warning would've been nice," she insisted.
He rolled his eyes.
"You punched me," he pointed out.
Her fiery gaze didn't waver, and Rowan couldn't help but feel a bit intimidated. Still he stood tall, refusing to cower.
"You had my cousin in a headlock. Maybe you should consider the fact that you deserved it," she fired back.
"You shouldn't have to act for him. He can handle himself," Rowan advised.
Aelin rolled her eyes.
"Whitethorn, I'm not taking advice from you in this lifetime. Now if you'll excuse me, I was scheming."
She flicked her golden hair behind her shoulder, a movement Rowan tracked.
He didn't know why, but he couldn't just leave the conversation there. She thought too highly of herself.
"If you ever punch me again, I'll ensure that you won't carry out another scheme for the rest of this lifetime."
A little too threatening, something he would never make good on. Why did he phrase it like that?
Aelin grabbed him by the shirt, pulling him towards her until their eyes were level with eachother. She smelled of lemon and verbena, a scent Rowan had to admit was intoxicating.
"Worried about your reputation because you let a girl best you? Don't threaten me if you aren't prepared to reap what you sow. I can make your life a living hell, Rowan Whitethorn," she spat.
Rowan glared at her, hoping she couldn't feel the thudding of his heart. His blood was on fire. No one spoke to him like that. Rowan couldn't remember the last time he was this furious.
"Believe me, Galathynius, you couldn't best me if you tried. Although, if you played nice, maybe I'd let you be on top," Rowan insinuated, nothing but cold fury in his voice.
Aelin pushed him back, disgust filling her face.
"I've said it more times this week to last an eternity, but to be clear, I wouldn't fuck you if we were the last people on Earth. I know you're used to getting girls to throw themselves at you, but I'm not them. If you ever even implicate that we've slept together to anyone, I will cut off your favorite body part, and ensure that those girls will never receive the pleasure they so desire," Aelin hissed at him, flames dancing on her fingertips.
It was powerful nonverbal magic, and Rowan took a wary step back. No one in this school knew how to summon elements like that besides him.
In fact, he'd spent his entire life mastering calling ice to his hands. It was something he was known for, one of the reasons he was popular. How the hell did Aelin Galathynius do it so easily? Why had he never heard of her performing such magic?
The fire in her palm died down, her eyes never straying from his.
He straightened, as if he was unfazed by this new information. He needed to clear his head, and stop letting this haughty sixth year goad him on.
"Well, I'll be sure to remember that. I'll see you around, Galathynius," he remarked blandly.
Next Thursday, he exacted in his head, the next Quidditch game.
Aelin's expression flashed with surprise at Rowan's sudden change in demeanor. Shaking off the shock, she sneered and shoved past him, throwing up her favorite finger in passing.
So much for staying away from her.
