Author's Note

Ok so it's been over a year since I last updated this story and I honestly can't believe it's been so long. So firstly I'm very sorry for ghosting on you all, if anyone who originally read this will even look at this again. Basically in the last year my life completely fell apart and I've been battling severe depression as a result of it. My relationship with my partner of six years came to an abrupt and very painful end. I ended up having to quit the job I loved to move back to London with my then two year old daughter. Motivating myself to get up in the morning and go to a job I hated was near impossible. Motivating myself to write was a complete no go. But things are finally starting to get better, my daughter and I now have our own place, I don't hate my new job quite so much as I did and I can stand to be in the same room as her dad without completely breaking down.

Because of all that I'm not entirely happy with this chapter, parts of it flowed and other parts I just couldn't write. It might be a bit disjointed from all of the stopping and starting but I think I need to just post it and move on. I have over half of the next chapter written already and parts of the one after so I hope to continue this again soon.

I also want to thank everyone who reviewed and favourited and followed any of my stories over the last year. You were rays of sunshine in a very dreary year.

Chapter 6

The rain was pouring down outside the heaving kitchen. Rowan perched in his hawk form, listening to the old chef as he told story after story to the fortress's many inhabitants. He tried not to watch the girl as she sat in the chair by the back door but every time she shifted his keen eyes would be drawn to her. She listened intently to Emrys as he spoke, that sharp mind of hers no doubt cataloging every little detail. She had requested stories of Maeve tonight and he couldn't decide if she was being incredibly smart or incredibly stupid. It was going to be a long while yet before he deemed her ready to enter Doranelle and asking for information about Maeve here, in front of all these witnesses could be a costly mistake. Any one of them could betray her to Maeve in hopes of a reward, which would give her plenty of time to calculate any possible move that Aelin would make with the information.

Aelin seemed to be willfully ignoring his disapproval but there was nothing new there. She didn't care in the slightest what he thought of her, even though it was his approval that she needed to get to wherever it was she was going. Maybe that was why she had asked for the information so publicly, maybe she wanted Maeve to know that she was not going to meet her unprepared. Maybe she wanted Maeve to know that he had not broken her, that she would fight. Then again perhaps he was overthinking the whole thing.

Rowan turned his attention back to the elderly story teller, he knew most of the stories already but there was something about the way Emrys told them that swept you away with them. He had been enjoying the indulgence of listening to the legends and myths of his people these last weeks but now that he was talking of Maeve, her coldness and cruelty, all it did was fill him with a hollowness that was all too familiar. He pushed aside the revulsion, there was no point in thinking about it. He had sworn a blood oath to his immortal queen and he would serve her for eternity.

Once he had been naive enough to believe that the world could be a better place. Once he had believed that this world deserved to be saved. He had dreamed of winning glory and being one of the warriors to shape that new world. Those beliefs and dreams had cost him everything. He had not been content with the good that he had and for his arrogance it had been taken from him. She had paid the price. He would not make the same mistakes.

Rowan was so lost in that darkness, the yawning abyss of his sorrow and rage that it wasn't until his hawk eyes caught the flash of light at the edge of his vision that he realised Gavriel was outside the fortress. He immediately took off from his perch and flew out to meet him. He'd received word weeks ago about the losses Gavriel had incurred on his latest assignment; the burden of it was written on his face.

The rain was cold on his skin as he greeted his comrade, his friend. Gavriel was probably one of the only Fae he'd apply that word to.

"Rowan." He could hear the pain and defeat in just that simple utterance of his name. He returned the greeting, clasping his arm in support.

"I've been looking for you for six weeks." Rowan could hear the dullness in his voice and mentally berated himself for not informing one of his few friends of where he'd be for the moment. Then again he hadn't expected to be here for this long, he'd been betting on her quitting and going home by now. He pulled himself back to Gavriel's babbling and interrupted him before he said too much.

Gavriel followed him in from the rain, they took a different route into the fortress avoiding any of the prying eyes from the kitchens. Rowan led him upstairs to his chambers and threw some extra logs on the fire. No doubt this would be a long night. Gavriel slumped into one of the chairs at Rowan's worktable and dropped his head into his hands. Rowan strode around the room, clearing away the maps and plans from the table. He knew what Gavriel was here for without him even asking. The sorrow in his eyes told all.

As Rowan began mixing together the ink, adding the fine iron shavings to prevent Gavriel's Fae blood from undoing all of his work, Gavriel pulled off his shirt and lay down on the table. He memorised the names of the fallen quickly and set to work on the design, tracing it out on tan skin while Gavriel stared straight ahead, his eyes misty and unseeing.

"Ready to begin?" Gavriel nodded and Rowan set to work, carving the story of loss into Gavriel's skin as the warrior told him all that had happened. It was gruelling work and the atmosphere was heavy with both of their pain, built up throughout the centuries until it was almost a living thing. Rowan's back and hands were cramping, when there was a soft knock at the door. Gavriel immediately ceased his prayers and both their heads snapped up to look at the door.

"Who is it?" Gavriel's voice was hoarse from talking so long. Rowan glared at the door, who on earth would be stupid enough to come up here unannounced when he had company? The answer was glaringly obvious and Rowan could feel his blood begin to boil. He snapped for whoever it was to enter.

The door eased open and there she was. How dare she come up here without his permission? How dare she interrupt something so important, so private? Didn't she understand that there was no place for her here? That she was not welcome. Rowan was barely listening to her pathetic reasoning for coming here, he'd slipped into an almost lethal rage. Noting the way she observed the room, studied his friend and the markings he'd made on him. His nostrils flared, the barely contained anger cracking through the surface.

He needed her out. There were too many ghosts in this room as it were. He snarled at her, as she tried to buy herself time and watched each step she took across his room. Every easy and nonchalant movement, completely oblivious to what he and Gavriel were suffering. The tone of her parting words had him snapping the needle in his fist, cutting into his palm. Hateful girl. The door shut behind her and she was gone but the scent of her remained.

"Who was that?"

"Nobody. She's nobody. Just an assignment." Gavriel studied him intently and the questions there had Rowan up and striding out the door before his friend could utter a single word.

Rowan threw open the door, if she knew what was good for her she would have fled back to her room the second she'd left. However her completely useless sense of self-preservation had once again failed her. There she was leaning against the wall, her back to him, waiting. He stalked towards her. The corridor was suffocating, too small to contain the black anger that flowed from him. He opened his mouth to berate her, lecture her on interrupting something that was private and personal, but she beat him to it. He wanted to smack that disgusting look off of face, some small insignificant part of him knew that she was goading him that he shouldn't rise to the bait. He clenched his fists, shoving down the instinct to fight even as his mouth widened in an almost primitive snarl.

"You know, it might be better if you just slapped me instead." Rowan fought back the urge to do just that. His temper was too frayed to allow for physical violence, he'd snap her neck without even meaning to.

"Instead of what?" It was a dangerous question to ask but tonight Rowan was beyond caring. He watched her with lethal intensity, taking in every breath, every slight movement. The way her lip curled, the straight line of her teeth, the sparks of hardened gold in her gaze.

"Instead of reminding me again and again how rutting worthless and awful and cowardly I am. Believe me, I can do the job well enough on my own. So just hit me, because I'm damn tired of trading insults. And do you know what? You didn't even bother to tell me you'd be unavailable. If you'd said something, I never would have come. I'm sorry I did. But you just left me downstairs." Rowan burned with a cold fury, he owed her nothing.

"You left me." Rowan inhaled sharply. The words echoing in his head over the pounding of the blood in his ears. The world went still. Something inside of him cracked, the force of it so strong that he half expected the very foundations of Mistward to shake with it. Then came the screaming. Loud, piercing screams that chilled his blood. They were the screams of his mate as she was butchered because he had left her alone.

Rowan was no longer standing in that hallway he was stood in the mountain passes above Doranelle. Staring at the ruins of his home; at the blackened bones that were all he had left. Still the screams continued, her voice begging for him to save to her and their child. The darkness and desolation wrapped around him like a blanket, blotting out all light. He welcomed it. He knew the darkness of his soul better than anything, he'd kept it sealed beneath ice for so long but it was always there. Always waiting.

"I have no one left. No one." The very air around him seemed to roil, like the moment before a storm hits. What did she know of loss? Of loneliness? She was just a petulant child. She could not possibly understand the weight of sorrow and guilt that dogged his steps every damn day for the last two centuries. He did not care to know what she imagined to be equal to his pain. He stared into those eyes, seeing nothing but his own reflection and foolish pride. The beast within him blinked awake, roaring up from the depths of that abyss as he struck out with his own hatred and self loathing.

"There is nothing I can give you. Nothing I want to give you." He spat the words at her, unable to stop them as they poured from his mouth. "You are nothing to me, and I do not care."

As Rowan watched her turn and walk away a small insidious voice whispered through the darkness. Telling him that she had been right. It would have been much better if he'd slapped her instead.

When Rowan stormed back into the room, Gavriel had moved to sit on the bed, the bowl of stew in his hands. He took a few deep breaths to steady himself, to push back the darkness that had crept into him.

"I'd never thought of you as cruel Rowan, cold perhaps, but never cruel."

Rowan flinched and stiffened before turning slowly to face Gavriel. His face was an icy mask, his eyes blazing with an icy rage. One that had been hidden far more deeply for a long time.

"Is that supposed to be a joke?" He bit out through gritted teeth.

"No, I don't think what you just did to that girl was in the least bit funny."

"She is not worth your concern." Rowan turned away, brushing aside Gavriel's comment with a too casual shrug of his shoulders. Gavriel narrowed his eyes at the warrior before him, the centuries had hardened Rowan but he had never treated anyone so callously before, no one who did not deserve it at least. What had that girl done to deserve such treatment?

"Isn't she?" Gavriel glanced pointedly at the now empty bowl of stew sat on the bed. No one else had thought to bring them anything, either they hadn't noticed or hadn't cared. Or maybe they just weren't prepared to face the ice prince's wrath for interrupting. Rowen just glared back, ignoring his words. "She showed concern at least, perhaps she deserves some in return."

Rowen let out a snort of derision.

"Do not for one second believe that her motives for coming up here were innocent."

Gavriel shrugged his shoulders, in just the few moments that she had been in the room he'd been able to scent her. There was something different about Rowan's scent but he'd not been able to place it until the girl had walked in. The change was subtle, barely noticeable but Gavriel could scent the girl on him. It went deeper than just the result of spending a great deal of time together. What was she to Rowan? What was Rowan to her? Gavriel has seen it in her eyes, that deep-rooted loneliness and sadness that seemed to live in them all.

"Perhaps not, but maybe they weren't as sinister as you wish to believe."

"She is an enemy of our Queen." Rowan snarled, a lesser fae would have backed down immediately from that look but Gavriel had known Rowan long enough to see past it. There was more going on here than Rowan wished to see, and Gavriel would be damned if he didn't at least try to prevent his friend from doing more irrevocable damage to that girl. That girl with Ashryver eyes.

"Then why train her? Why help her to become more of a threat?" He challenged.

"I do not question my orders and neither should you." Rowan spat the words at him.

"You would have once." Rowan slammed his hand down on the table so hard he left a dent in the thickness of the wood, upsetting the ink pot and staining the table top.

"Enough, Gavriel!" He snarled, then his shoulders slumped and he said again in a voice that was barely more than a whisper. "Enough."

Gavriel finally fell silent. Rowan could feel his eyes on him as he moved methodically to clean the table, checking the remaining ink to make sure it hadn't spoiled. Gavriel moved back to the table without another word, and Rowan continued to mark him. The silence stretched out between them but neither was willing to break it. It was several hours before Gavriel resumed his confession

The methodical movements of the needle and ink in his hands allowed Rowan to begin to calm himself. To quell the raging darkness but the emptiness that followed was worse. He followed the pattern mechanically without really seeing it, all his mind wanted to dwell on was the look in her eyes as she turned away. Those dead eyes.

What had he done?