Chapter 26
Rowan
o, what are the odds that a day of travel has put you in a forgiving
mood?” Logan asks, crouching beside me as I lay my bedroll under a
canopy of gnarled oak branches. Consistent with its generally
mocking mood, the weather is perfectly clear and warm for this time of
autumn, the stars winking to some music only they can hear.
“What’s there to forgive?” I smooth out my bedroll.
“I think even Grayson would see a trap in that question,” he mutters.
My hands hesitate on the blanket. “Perhaps you are referring to that
night when you did all sorts of intimate things to my body and then
disappeared in the morning as if nothing happened?”
“Well, yes.” Logan’s voice is cautious. “In my experience, women tend
not to appreciate that behavior.”
I finish setting up my bedding, pull off my shoes and climb inside.
“Probably because they make the mistake of assuming the bedroll
acrobatics have meaning beyond the immediate physicality of the moment.”
“That was a lot of long words.”
“It was a long day. Good night, Logan.” I curl up on my side, turning
away from him. The one advantage of a forced march through the woods is
that every fiber of my body is more than ready for sleep. My new goal,
which I set the moment Kyrian disappeared from view on that summit, is to
shove these three men back into the isolated mental box they’ve always
belonged in.
Logan walks around and crouches impertinently on my other side. “And
you are of the opinion that our acrobatics were utterly without meaning?”
“I don’t need opinions when I have facts.”
“Do you now?” Reaching out, Logan grazes my arm with a feather-light
touch that sends shivers down my spine.
I inhale sharply and pull away.
“Looks like I have my own set of facts,” Logan purrs quietly, his teasing
voice going straight into my clenching chest. Anger rushes through me,
spilling into my blood like a flash flood of emotion.
“No,” I say, swinging up to my elbow so I can point an accusing finger
into his chest. “You don’t get to do that. You’ve got your conquest, or
bedpost notch, or whatever it is you used to mark made awkward book geek
open her legs off your list. Well done. Mission accomplished. But I’ve
about this much self-respect still left,” I hold my thumb and pointer finger
half an inch apart, “and I’d like to keep it. So, please, take your warrior’s
body, and perfect face, and sensual touches that you’ve honed to a blade’s
edge perfection, and keep them away from me. If you’ve ever cared for me
even a fraction as much as you pretended, please do as I ask.”
Logan flinches, and I make myself ignore the apparent pain rippling
over his face. Whatever he thinks he is feeling, it has nothing to do with me
and everything to do with him not getting what he wants right now. And
he’ll feel it right up until a squirrel rushes up a tree and he will want it
instead.
I make myself close my eyes and keep them that way until I hear him
rise to his feet and walk away from me with measured quiet steps.
“You really want to go through the center of Doverly?” I hear Logan ask
Kai quietly.
Kai’s been closed-mouthed about, well, everything, so I keep my eyes
shut and my breathing even as the pair talk.
“Want? Of course not. But it’s the closest waypoint, and I’m not going
to see her at a flogging post for returning one check-in short.”
“You bloody well know I wasn’t suggesting letting that happen,”
Logan’s words strain through his teeth.
“Well those are the two options.” Kai’s voice is cold and unyielding.
“Unless you have a third that doesn’t involve her bleeding or a delay getting
her to safety and freeing us to help Kyr, I suggest you make peace with
Doverly.”
There’s a tense pause, but then Logan exhales heavily. “You think the
raid will reach this far inland?”
Wait. Raid? The news startles me into letting my eyes fly open, my
hands pushing against the bedroll.
The men’s conversation halts immediately.
Shit. Embracing the error, I push myself the rest of the way up. “What
raid?”
Both men turn to me. Kai’s expression is inscrutable as always, but
Logan can’t quite hide the frustration simmering in his eyes as he brushes
his gaze along my body.
“A Flurry assault force penetrated the twenty second outpost shortly
after the field exercise started,” he says matter of factly. “I expect they will
be neutralized or retreat well before reaching Spire East.”
“And you are just telling me this now?”
“Does it have any bearing on any of your actions or decisions?” Kai
retorts.
“Only on my opinion of you,” I say brightly, letting myself back down
to the bedroll. If my words sting, Kai gives no indication of it. Maybe they
do, maybe they don’t. The truth is, it shouldn’t matter. I’m not in the triad,
and at this point, any expectation of loyalty or genuine connection on my
part is folly that I need to get over.
Kai fooled me once. Shame on him. Then Logan. I’ll be generous with
myself and split the shame of that one evenly between us. But Kyrian’s
leaving makes it thrice. Frankly, anyone who fails to learn her lesson after
that, deserves what she gets.
The next day, as we get closer to civilization, Kai and Logan take turns
leap-frogging ahead, one of them always going forward to scout while the
other stays with me. It effectively means that they cover twice as much
ground as I do, but that seems to bother them as little as the blood they
sometimes return speckled in. If anything Kai seems increasingly eager to
get me back to the Spire, opting for better roads at the cost of the occasional
attackers he cuts down with little thought.
The trees begin to thin as we near the Doverly outskirts by early
evening. As the sun begins to set, casting long shadows across the thinning
forest, Kai returns from his latest scouting foray and unrolls a map before
us.
“The waypoint box is located in the alley by the cellar of an abandoned
brewery on the western edge of Doverly,” he reports in clipped tones.
“Everyone and their mother has caught onto the coin game and the
waypoint’s location, but there is little cooperation between the… I don’t
even know what to call them. Neither civilians nor combatants fit.”
“Doverlians?” I offer.
“Doverlians,” Kai agrees. “There is little cooperation and less training,
which works in our favor. If we make a rooftop approach after nightfall and
go this way, we should meet the objective with minimal risk.” Kai traces a
route with his finger, explaining the additional details he’d just learned. The
fact that he got in and out is encouraging. Then again, I pity anyone who
gets into his path.
Waiting comes next. Waiting for the sun to set, for the time to pass, for
the start time to approach. The air grows heavy with the scent of impending
rain, a subtle current crackling through the atmosphere. Of course it would
be raining the day we need to galavant over rooftops. Two clear nights in a
row is apparently an unfair ask of the weather.
Finally, after an eternity of waiting and yet all too soon, Kai packs up
the few supplies we’ll need and moves us out.
The rooftops of Doverly are a maze of crumbling tiles and precarious
ledges, the rain turning every surface into a death trap. Kyrian would have
loved it here. Don’t think of Kyrian, I chide myself, following Kai’s lead,
his movements precise and calculated as he navigates the treacherous
terrain. I follow close behind, my heart in my throat every time we jump
over a gap between roofs or balance on shifting footing.
Between Logan’s training and the climb with Kyrian, I’m stronger than
I was, but my limbs still keep getting caught on loose debris, making small
stones fall to the ground. Logan, who is bringing up the rear, is there every
time I falter though. Sometimes a moment before, as if he can predict the
mess I’m about to get into. Given the amount of time he’s spent watching
me fall on my face in the training yard, he probably can.
Kai stops abruptly, and I nearly crash into him, barely catching myself
on the slippery tiles. He crouches low, motioning for us to do the same. I
follow his gaze and spot the waypoint—an inconspicuous metal box
attached to the side of a derelict building. Relief surges through me, but it’s
short-lived.
“They’ve upped the guard,” Kai whispers, his voice barely audible over
the wind. “This isn’t who was here earlier.”
I peer through the rain and spot the figures stationed around the
building. There are four of them, their faces obscured by hoods, but their
posture unmistakable. I may not have the body or movement of a properly
trained warrior, but I know what one looks like—and the men below us
aren’t the disgruntled civilian drunks who usually make a nuisance of
themselves. The group down there is disciplined, alert, and armed to the
teeth.
My heart sinks.
“Mercenaries,” Kai says tightly, confirming my suspicion. “Armed with
auric steel.”
Before we can move, a sudden noise from below catches our attention.
A door slams open, and more mercs pour out into the alleyway.
“Two more,” one of the newcomers says, displaying a pair of metal tags
that flash in the moonlight.
“Start working on them,” the merc who must be the leader says crisply.
“The code word is worth five times the tag. But keep it quiet, lest you scare
my fish off.”
That would be us, I realize. The fish. And the them to be kept quiet are
cadets being tortured.
My blood turns to ice.
“The cellar of the old inn is soundproof enough,” the tag holder says
with a nod. “You’d have been yelling at me before now otherwise.”
They separate but my breaths quicken, fear coursing through me.
“We need a distraction,” Logan suggests. He is too calm for what we’d
just heard. For what’s unfolding right beneath us.
“Agreed,” says Kai. “That and a different vector of approach.”
Kai moves over the roof, melding into the shadows. He motions for us
to follow as more shadows curl out from around him, rising up to conceal
all of us. “We’ll use the north side roofs.”
I pull up the memory of the map Kai sketched for us. North side. That’s
the one most likely to have fewer guards. Because no one in their right
mind would go that way.
Well, no one has ever accused the men I’m with of being in their right
mind, so here we are.
Kai leads the way around the buildings, his steps silent against the wind
howling by us and threatening to blow us clear off the narrow edges. There
is no cover here, and the raindrops drive into my face like needles, reducing
the world to a blur of wet stone and shadow.
“We are almost there,” Logan whispers into my ear as he steadies me
before another roof gap, this one wider than any we’ve crossed yet and
flanked by shifting tiles on either side. Between the rain, wind, and my
galloping heart I can’t figure out where to even put my feet. A tremble runs
through my body. This is madness. Utter madness.
Logan pulls me against him. “Close your eyes.”
“Like hell I will.”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you then.” He grabs me and leaps into the air,
me against his chest and my stomach somewhere in my throat. It’s all I can
do to stifle my scream of terror as we land on the other side and Logan sets
me down on the slippery shingles.
“Close… your… eyes does not qualify as a warning,” I hiss between
pants, putting as much indignation into the words as I can. Except this time,
the quip is all strategy. A distraction from the hauntingly familiar tell-tale
signs of a dizzy spell that are suddenly washing over me.
Not now, not now, not now, I order my body, trying to hold on to myself
in space. The rain is wet. The wind is loud. Your fingers are cold.
Concentrate on that.
“You alright, Ainsley?” Kai’s voice is low and gruff, but I detect a hint
of worry beneath the stoic exterior.
“I’m fine.” I blink rapidly to clear the spots dancing in my vision. “Just
give me a moment to -” another wave of dizziness washes over me, this one
in no mood to play. I’ve been here before. It’s how I’ve collected countless
twisted ankles and bleeding foreheads and worse. “I’m -” The world tilts
and blurs, raindrops running sideways across my vision. Then my knees
give way.
