A/N – Hi everyone. I'm so sorry that it's been so long since I updated this. Life has just been a bit hectic lately and I made the mistake of starting A Court of Thorns and Roses while I was ill and it took over my brain for a while. I'm sure many of you know the feeling. I hope that you enjoy this chapter, it's not the longest but I have already started on the next chapter.
Chapter 5
Rowan lay out under the stars, staring up at the small patches of sky he could see between the branches. He should be sleeping but so far it had elluded him. Aelin was asleep just a few feet away and his fae ears could detect every soft breath. He resolutely refused to glance in her direction; he would not give in to such weaknesses.
The events of the day played through his consciousness. She had made progress with her shift at least even if they had not garnered any new information from the locals. The elation and pride he had felt that morning as they raced through the forest seemed like a very long time ago. Those feelings had been almost immediately swallowed by the void of feeling within him when they stopped. He'd watched the same feelings mirrored in her face and any trace of his good mood vanished.
He'd been distracted and distant as they walked into the town and forgotten to command Aelin to shift back into her human form before they entered. This only served to further infuriate him as the villagers closed ranks just as he knew they would. Then Aelin had gone and changed everything by shopping. He had to admit that it was impressive, the way she had walked from store to store and enchanted every storeowner in the place. Some part of him slipped into a role he hadn't played in centuries, following behind her dutifully and carrying every item she bought like he had for his cousins when he was younger. He shook his head slightly at the thought of how his younger self would have coped with the brazen girl; she'd of eaten him alive.
Rowan couldn't even bring himself to resent how much of his money she had spent, it wasn't like he needed it anyway and it had gotten them what they wanted. Even if the information had proven nonexistent it still gave them some more insights. He'd also learnt more about the young woman he was supposed to be training. There had been such a look of pleasure on her face as she devoured those chocolates that he'd had to look away for his own peace of mind, gruffly refusing her offer to share them with him. Then she'd looked almost reverent in the bookshop as she ran her fingers along the spines of the books, tracing their titles.
There were too many facets to her personality for him to believe that he had a complete picture of her but he felt as though he was slowly beginning to piece her back together. There was the girl who had been Aelin Galathynus; the juvenile who became Celaena Sardothian, a notorious and deadly assassin, and Elentiya the broken creature he had found on that rooftop in Varesse. No doubt she had worn more skins than those during her short life but each one of them formed a part of the whole. It was like staring at a broken mirror, each shard reflecting one tiny aspect of her and he was painstakingly trying to fit each jagged piece back into the frame.
Against his will his mind conjured up the image of her flirting with the stable boy in an attempt to gain information. The idiotic boy had not been able to look past her Fae appearance to respond to her and he had been almost glad as he watched from the nearby rooftop in his hawk form. There was some primitive part of him that had wanted to swoop down there and take her away, if the boy had responded he might not have been able to hold back. His mind turned away from the image of the alluring smile she'd plastered on her pretty face and he focused more on analyzing what they had learned. This creature was clearly sentient if it could choose it's victims so carefully and it seemed to be steering clear of the towns.
He frowned up at the canopy, that was really all they had learned and it seemed very little now that he thought of it. He glanced at the girl as she slept soundly just a few feet away, he didn't think he'd ever seen her look so peaceful. The usual glower was missing from her face and she looked younger. She moved slightly in her sleep and he quickly looked away in case she awoke and found him staring at her.
When her movements ceased he looked back over to her and found that she had shifted onto her side, one hand outstretched towards him. The moonlight seemed almost drawn to her as it made her golden hair glow almost silver in the darkness, and caressed the pointed tips of her ears. Those Gods damn ears. He gritted his teeth and resolutely rolled over so that he could no longer look at her.
Unfortunately just because he could no longer physically see her didn't mean that he could stop himself from thinking about her; remembering the taste of her blood on his tongue. He gritted his teeth and tried to push away the memory of how it had felt to sink his teeth into her neck with her lithe body pinned against him. Against his will his blood burned, not with hatred or rage. Not with the cold fury that had become so familiar over the centuries but with something new, something distinctly her.
He rolled back over to look at her. Was this how she felt? Did her blood constantly burn with this unbearable heat? It would certainly explain her attitude, just the slightest provocation sent those slumbering embers roaring into an inferno. Rowan let his eyes wander over her, from her face down to that outstretched hand. The longer he stared at it, the more he felt some kind of pull to reach out to her and offer her whatever comfort she unconsciously sought.
Eventually the sounds of the forest lulled Rowan to into a deep sleep. He didn't remember his dreams but when he awoke he found that during the night he had reached out towards her immediately yanking his hand back, Rowan leveled his best icy glare at the still slumbering princess. He regretted it as she seemed to curl inwards on herself under the force of his stare. She wrapped her arms around her torso and her brows furrowed. She shivered in her sleep but he didn't think that it was because of the cool morning air.
He pushed himself up from his bedroll and stalked off into the nearby trees to begin gathering wood for a fire. He wasn't going to bother with a fire but they were close enough to the town that the more vile creatures would steer clear of the area. It also gave him an excuse to put some distance between himself and the girl. He moved quietly through the trees, careful not to make any noise that would attract unwelcome attention.
Rowan was unwilling to make his way back to the campsite and be confronted once more with that face. His superior hearing picked up on the change in her breathing and it sent his heart hammering in his chest. He turned and sprinted back towards the clearing, drawing a knife and scenting for any threat.
There was none.
Rowan watched as she tossed and turned in her sleep. He'd not borne witness to her nightmares since that first night and seeing it again now made him realize how deeply the world had failed her. He waited for the screaming and thrashing but it did not come. He waited for the voice that haunted his own dreams, begging and broken. It did not come. What did come was worse.
"I wish I was like the others."
The voice of a child. A child who was afraid of herself, of her powers. Some small fragment of memory flitted through his head, of a debate between some of the ranking families in Doranelle. A debate about her, about the threat that the child might pose them when she reached maturity. Had she been subjected to that in Orynth as well? If a country of Fae across the sea had been concerned about her then her nearest neighbors would have been fools not to consider it.
He couldn't imagine what it must have been like, surrounded by people who were afraid of you. It was no wonder really that she had come to despise her powers. That heat once again began to build under his skin and he had to clamp down on that feral rage. He tried desperately to suffocate those feelings, the need to hunt down every person who had made her feel alone and afraid and rip them limb from limb. Rowan tried to tell himself that it was just his fae instincts, his instinct to protect being called up by the childlike quality to her voice.
Rowan moved away to assemble the fire, something to focus on and keep his hands busy as she awoke from whatever dream she'd been having. It took a long moment for her to focus on her surroundings and he could see the pain and sorrow written into every line of her body. She stared at the scar on her palm and it reminded him of a broken doll, unmoving and devoid of life.
"Do you want breakfast?" The words came unbidden from his mouth but at least she stopped staring at that mark. He commanded her to start the fire, his temper flaring slightly when she questioned the order. Rowan resisted the urge to roll his eyes at her when she pointed toward the fire in her attempt to light it.
"Perhaps I like the dramatics." He glared at her and managed to hold back a snort of derision, of course she would like the dramatics. Everything about her was dramatic, from her petty temper tantrums to the colour of her eyes. Rowan took a calming breath and reminded himself that she was at least trying. His own magic sparked in warning as hers awakened, too much and too close to the surface but the logs began to smoke.
Rowan made his voice softer, calming but still commanding as he reminded her about her control. Her face set into an expression of determination but her concentration was frayed, he felt that well open inside of her and the pressure build beneath her skin. He barely had time to shield himself before wildfire was exploding around them.
He threw out his magic, calling wind and ice to encircle them and contain her detonation to as small an area as possible. It took longer than he would of liked to put out that fire and blow away the smoke, her gift was incredibly powerful. Perhaps with the proper training she could be a match even for him, it was no wonder Maeve had wanted her trained. His Queen would do much to control such power. The thought sent an icy shudder down his spine.
He looked up at her; at the horror written into her face as she stared at the damage she had done. He felt her magic die down, like a banked fire. No more than embers now but still there, simmering gently beneath the surface.
Rowan resisted the urge to drop his face into his hands in frustration. They had an awfully long way to go.
