AN: Thank you to everyone, as always, who added this story to their favorites, followed and especially those who reviewed and reached out with their words of support and encouragement. I really appreciated every one of them. This chapter has been a long time coming and I hope you all enjoy.
The streets of Doranelle were heaving with people but that was to be expected on market day. Rowan moved through the crowds with ease, his height and strength automatically made the fae around him shift out of his path, even if they didn't know who he was. It was a beautiful day; the sun shining in a cornflower blue sky and a warm breeze flowing around them carrying the scent of flowers from the market. Rowan inhaled deeply, his broad chest expanding as he took in the intoxicating scents of Jasmine and lemon verbena. Something about the flowers seemed to call to him, a deep-rooted pull in his gut urging him forward, begging him to follow. Rowan took a step forward, obediently following that invisible thread. He began to weave through the throngs of people.
With every step that he took that pull in his gut tightened, urging him to move faster. Faster and faster until he was pushing and shoving his way through the crowds, completely uncaring of the faceless Fae that he shoved aside in his frantic quest. The scent of those flowers clouded his senses until it and that ever-increasing tug forwards were all he could think about. Rowan lost sight of his surroundings; he didn't notice the brightly coloured market stalls or the lone owl circling overhead. Soon he was sprinting through the streets of Doranelle, the pounding of his blood blocking out sound and his lungs burning as he pushed himself into a breakneck pace. He rounded the corner to the market, his feet never faltering even as they hit dirt instead of the neat paving stones of the Capital.
The trees passed by in a blur, his Fae eyes picking out the brightness of the random light shafts that speared down through the thick canopy. He could still scent that sweet smell on the breeze leading him deeper into the forest but there was something else mixed with it now. Rowan inhaled deeply, drawing the scent deep within himself. There was an earthier scent mingling with the sweet jasmine and it reminded him of the bonfires burning on Beltane, their brightly coloured sparks leaping into the air.
Ahead of him he could see movement between the trees. Another Fae was running; no more than a whisper of shadow darting ahead of him between the ancient trunks. Rowan pushed himself impossibly faster, hurtling through the trees and leaping over obstacles with the surefooted ease of some great mountain cat. His eyes were trained ahead of him, focusing only on that shadowy figure running so swiftly through this quiet world. Every instinct roared at him to catch them; he was the predator and they were his prey.
The figure passed through one of those rare shafts of light and Rowan caught the glint of golden hair before they disappeared back into the darkness of the forest. He couldn't tell if he was gaining on them or if they were slowing to allow him to catch up, taunting him by remaining just out of reach. Rowan growled in frustration which only increased as he heard the female laugh at him, her wicked delight carried back on the breeze. He could see her more clearly now, the long blonde hair flowing behind her like ribbons. Rowan lunged for her but she shifted her lithe form just enough to slip through his outstretched hands, putting on a burst of speed to escape him.
Rowan stumbled but righted himself, barely slowing down as he continued in his pursuit of the infuriating creature. Always she would be just within his reach before she ducked or flipped out of his grasp, the sound of her laughter taunting and teasing him until he too was laughing, wild and free.
Rowan leapt towards her, fully expecting another near miss but instead she turned into him, allowing him to grab her and press her up against the nearest tree with an almost deafening crack. The female didn't seem phased in the slightest. He met her stare, marvelling at the way the flecks of gold in her eyes sparkled like embers in the dappled sunlight. Both of their chests were heaving from the effort and exhilaration of their wild chase.
He pressed her further back against the tree, caging her body in with his. The rough bark bit into the skin of his forearm where he'd placed it beside her head, fingers digging into the tree to steady him. The female continued to watch him with those bright eyes that danced with mischief, her rosy lips curved into a wicked smile. He lifted one hand to her face, running the back of his calloused fingers down her cheek with a gentleness few would believe he possessed before wrapping them into the silken mass of her hair. Her whole face softened at the tenderness of the touch, eyes slipping shut.
The female whimpered as he hovered over her mouth. The sound of it made his whole body clench, the hand gripping the tree tightened causing splinters to cascade down onto the forest floor. Rowan inhaled deeply, the smell of her was so very familiar. With a groan of surrender he crushed his mouth to hers, nipping at her lips as she kissed him back with equal ferocity.
They battled with each other for dominance, control. Fire and ice crackled around them, warring with each other as their magic intertwined. Rowan pulled away from her mouth, instead sliding his mouth down the column of her delicate throat. She gasped as the points of his canines dragged along the highly sensitive skin.
She gasped his name, a plea and prayer on her lips as she arched her neck for him and the sound of it broke him.
"Aelin…" He groaned against her exposed flesh before biting down, his mouth filling with the molten liquid that scorched his throat. The taste of her was divine and completely intoxicating. Small scarred hands wrapped in his shirt drawing him close until he was flush against her soft curves, her body warm and pliant beneath his own.
Then that soft inviting body went rigid, the hands pulling him closer withdrew and then before he could react shoved him violently away. The movement was so quick, so unexpected that he knew there was nothing he could do as his teeth tore out her throat. Rowan stared down at the gaping mess of flesh in horror and agony. Ruby red blood ran in silent rivulets down the graceful curve of her neck, over the chest that had mere moments ago been heaving with life. She still stood pressed against the tree, those bight eyes now looking at him unseeing and devoid of life.
"No…please…" Rowan didn't know what he was asking for or whom he was asking it from as he reached towards her. He grasped her neck, trying to wipe away the red and willing the skin to knit back together, to heal. His fingers were slick with her blood, so much blood. The same blood that he could still taste on his tongue, warm and sweet.
"Aelin please…" Rowan bowed his head over his bloody hands, unable to look into those lifeless eyes any longer.
"You left me." The taste of her turned to ash in his mouth, choking him. "You left me, I have no one left. No one." His head snapped up to look at her, to tell her she was wrong, to beg and plead with her. However, even as he reached for her he heard his own voice spitting his poisonous words at her.
"You are nothing to me, and I do not care." The harsh words seemed to echo between them and she remained silent crumpling to the ground like a rag doll. The world around them faded away into darkness until all that was left was Rowan and the corpse of the woman he had so cruelly and selfishly broken. Eventually she too began to fade away, her shattered body disintegrating like so much ash. Ash that now coated his clothes and hair, clogging his nose and mouth.
There were flames in the distance and Rowan trudged wearily towards them. Just ordinary flames, a mockery of the bright wildfire that burned with Aelin. He surveyed the new scene numbly. The pretty house sat nestled in the peaceful mountain pass, the neatly kept flower garden surrounding it and the flame blackened doorway.
Rowan walked through the sea of muted flowers, their sweet scent suffocated by smoke and ash. He walked through the doorway, the door itself had been cleaved from the frame, and faced the bright orange flames that consumed what had once been his home. Rowan stepped into the flames that did not burn, walking until he faced her. Faced his mate, the woman he had so badly failed. She had flowers in her hair; small jasmine blossoms woven between the dark strands.
"You left me." It was just a statement, there was sorrow in her tone but no judgement or accusation. Lyria wrapped her arms around her abdomen and looked up at him with anguish filled eyes, exactly how he had last seen them when he abandoned her to go fight Maeve's war. "You left us."
Rowan had no words to say to her, nothing that could put this ghost to rest. The flames burned hotter and brighter. He choked on the thick black smoke that coiled around him until there was nothing left but blackened earth and the ruins of his once happy home.
Rowan shot up in his bed, ice curling around his fingertips as he reached for a blade with the other. He gulped down air as he surveyed the room, heart pounding in his chest. The tattoo tools from last night were still on the table and Gavriel slept soundly were he lounged in one of the chairs.
Rowan relaxed slightly at the lack of threats, shaking himself to try and rid his mind of the remnants of that dream which refused to fade. He stared at the bowl sat innocently on the side table. Right at that moment Rowan would have greatly enjoyed pounding the insignificant object into dust. He could smell the beginnings of breakfast wafting up to his room and knew that he could only have slept for an hour or two at most. He wondered if she would still be here and what he would do if she wasn't. He had no idea what he would say to her once their paths crossed, the thought of facing her after what he had said last night was unpleasant but the thought of her leaving was worse. He knew those eyes. Knew what they meant. She would go out into that forest full of monsters and seek out new scars to atone for whatever sins she carried. If the price for those sins was her death then she would willingly accept it.
Rowan would not. He looked down at his hands, still splattered with ink in places but no blood. Not yet. He rose and walked to the window, carefully opening the shutters and allowing the first rays of the sun to warm his face.
Rowan felt something within that warmth, as if it were alive. He closed his eyes and raised his face to that comforting presence. The warmth was like a caress against his skin and he inhaled sharply, feeling something echo within him at that touch. Something that he had thought shattered and broken beyond repair that whispered to that phantom touch. It whispered back. Just one word that seemed to reverberate within every dark recess of his mind and soul, the answer to a question he dared not ask.
Fireheart.
