Chapter 27
Kai
catch Rowan just as she starts to fall, my arms wrapping around her
reflexively as my mind whirls to try and work out what just happened.
One moment she was fine, getting her feet under her after Logan’s
jump, and the next she was falling down, fully and suddenly unconscious.
Her body is limp against me, her breaths shallow. My heart lurches into my
throat, fear lancing through me for the first time since I’d come to Spire
East. And it’s not just because if Rowan dies, then so does Lilith’s chance
for a cure.
“Rowan.” I shake her gently.
Rowan’s head lolls against my chest, her skin ice cold. Clammy.
Because the rain has all of us soaked, or is she hurt as well? Is she losing
blood? Going into shock?
I quickly lay her on a flat section of the roof, my fingers tracing over
her head, her limbs, her sides. Searching for any sign of injury. There’s
nothing. How can there be nothing? No blood, no obvious wounds, just her
pale face and shallow breathing. The rain pours down around us, relentless
and cold droplets bouncing off her closed eyelids. My jaw tenses, my hands
roaming over her body again, as fast and choppy as my racing heart. I must
have missed something the first time. I have to find whatever it is. Fix it.
Stars. I need to fix this.
Logan crouches beside me, his hand stalling my wrist. “It’s alright. She
does this sometimes,” he mutters. “Gets dizzy and faints, I mean.”
“Why?”
“Stress, fatigue, something like that. It’s happened in the practice ring.
She’ll be fine.” He brushes the hair from her face, away from her eyes, then
strokes her cheek with the back of his hand. I should have thought to do
that. To offer touch that would welcome her back instead of one that just
prodded her all over. “Come on, rabbit,” Logan whispers. “Time to wake
up.”
She does this sometimes. Did I know that? If I did, I never gave it much
consideration. Not really. Because what did it matter so long as I was
getting what I needed, right? What did it matter if I hurt her, and ignored
her, and pushed her to literal unconsciousness, if it protected my own heart?
Stars.
I pick Rowan back up, unable to watch her lying on the wet hard roof.
My grip tightens around her, my mind flying. What if Logan is wrong?
What if this isn’t her normal collapse? Stars take me, since when is any
collapse normal? She’s so damn vulnerable, and I know nothing about her
—nothing that matters.
Rowan stirs slightly, a soft groan escaping her lips just as the pounding
of footsteps echoes through the alleyway below. More mercs coming this
way. Right toward us. And the noise Rowan makes is about to give away
our position. Before I can think better of it, I seal my mouth over hers to
swallow her sounds.
Rowan’s lips are cool, but they’re real, and they’re under mine, soft and
yielding despite the rain. The connection is incendiary, an unexpected rush
of heat that spreads through me even as the cold rain beats down on us. I
didn’t think when I’d done this—I’d just acted. But now that I’m here,
holding her so close, her breath mingling with mine, I can’t ignore the grip
it has on me.
I feel Rowan respond a heartbeat later, just the faintest flutter, her lips
parting slightly as if welcoming me. It’s instinctual, unconscious, and it’s
more trust than I deserve.
I cradle her closer, using my body to shield her from the rain as much as
I can. The way she relaxes into me, the trust of that movement, it nearly
undoes me.
Because Rowan shouldn’t trust me. I’ve done nothing to earn it, and
everything to push her away.
“What do you want to do?” Logan asks.
I want to get Rowan off these roofs, in from the rain, and out of this
damn town. What in the hells was I thinking bringing her here?
“We go back,” I tell Logan. I’d take Rowan all the way to Spire East if I
thought the commandant would let me take the lashes for her, but I know
she won’t. That would be too easy. “And we aren’t dragging her around
anymore. We’ll bring the checkpoint box to her.” Not from here though.
With the trained mercs and their auric steel—probably taken off the very
transports we ensured were ambushed—it’s too dangerous here.
Rowan stirs, her eyes opening as she comes to and squirms in an
attempt to get down from my hold. Of course that’s her first order of
business. Whatever trust and responsiveness she’d granted me when she
wasn’t thinking clearly is long gone. Does she even remember my lips on
her mouth? Does she remember letting me kiss her? Does she regret it?
I shove those thoughts from my mind and set her down carefully. This
isn’t the time to argue whether her walking is the best plan for anyone. If
she thinks she can, she is welcome to try.
But I am snatching her right back into my arms at the first sign of
trouble. My gut argues that trouble is already here though, and a great deal
more than we’ve laid eyes on thus far. But the same gut also warns me that
snatching Rowan up without permission won’t go well.
Logan and I keep Rowan between us as we make our way back along
the slick, narrow roof ledges. We are walking into the wind now, which
tears at our clothes along with the downpour. I keep my focus split between
evaluating the rooftops ahead, counting the mercs below, and watching
Rowan pick her way over the slippery footing. All three lines of effort are
getting increasingly worse results.
It’s not a few mercs as we’d first thought, it’s more. And by the looks of
it, they are getting themselves stationed and organized, with every fighter
alert at his post. These aren’t civilians cowering from the weather or drunks
seeking out coins and brawls.
We’re almost at the edge of the building when Logan shouts for us to
get down. I drop immediately, my body covering Rowan’s, who lets out a
surprised grunt as she hits the roof. A second later, I feel the sharp thud of
an arrow embed itself in my calf. Pain explodes up my leg, white-hot and
searing. Stars. Auric steel.
I grit my teeth, choking back a howl as the corrupted metal spreads its
venom through my fae veins. My muscles lock, a wave of nausea
threatening to bring me down completely.
Logan curses under his breath, his eyes snapping to mine with a flash of
worry before his attention turns to the adjacent rooftops. “We are about to
have company.”
I haul myself to my feet, gritting my teeth against the agony ripping
through my leg as I drag Rowan toward a crumbling chimney for cover and
draw my blade.
“You are hurt,” Rowan whispers as I force her down. “How can I help?”
“Don’t get dead.” I reach down and snap off most of the arrow shaft. I
can already tell that if I try to pull the arrowhead itself free right now, I’ll go
unconscious as quickly as Rowan had earlier.
Logan wasn’t kidding about company. I spot the archer who’d shot me
on the adjacent roof and hurl a dagger at him. It embeds in his eye but
doesn’t solve our problem.
Rowan pulls her dagger, and for a second I think she intends to rush out
into battle. Fortunately, she has sense and stays crouched. Alert, armed, but
crouched behind cover. Good girl.
To the north, a group of three mercs are spreading out along the
roofline, their crossbows trained on our position. Their dark uniforms blend
into the shadows, making them nearly invisible in the night. I’m certain that
the only reason they haven’t shot yet is because they need us alive and fear
a poor shot might nick our hearts by accident.
More mercenaries scale the roof with the speed and agility of trained
soldiers, their auric steel blades glinting in the flashes of lightning that splits
the sky.
The first merc reaches the roof and lunges at me, his blade arcing
toward my throat. I meet his strike, but the parry that should have made no
impression on me, now reverberates through my whole body. The auric
alloy from that arrow wound is already doing its job rendering my fae gifts
null. I dispatch the man with a slice over his jugular, and twist in time to
force another one into retreat.
Logan is a blur of lethal efficiency beside me, his blades cutting down
one mercenary after another with the preternatural grace I no longer have.
“Behind you,” Rowan calls.
I turn and drive my blade into the belly of a tall wiry man, but then
stagger when I have to shift my weight to my injured leg to pull the blade
free from his body. The auric steel arrow in my calf pulses with every
movement, sapping my strength with each beat of my heart. The sheer
devastation that auric steel is wrecking on my body has me gasping for
breath. It would do worse to Logan. It would cost him his wolf.
Permanently if his body ingests too much of it.
“Logan, leave,” I order.
“Not a chance,” Logan snaps, decapitating the man who comes toward
him. He is better, faster, and more lethal than the humans, but he doesn’t
understand what even a nick of those weapons would do to him. Or maybe
he does and doesn’t care.
But that’s my job. And I can see the archers on the adjacent roof getting
anxious. Too many of their squadmates are dying. Another minute and they
will give up worrying that their shot might kill us outright, and take it.
Hells, another minute and the mercs will give up on the notion of taking us
alive all together. They’ll kill Rowan. Logan and I won’t be able to protect
her, not if we are both wounded with those damn blades.
And even if they don’t kill us outright, there is no scenario here in
which Logan doesn’t get wounded eventually. He is fighting to protect us,
not himself. And once that happens, they will take us all. Worse yet, the
draken will come for a doomed rescue attempt and will get hurt as well.
They have no shields this side of the wards and are utterly susceptible to
those auric crossbows.
Whatever the Queen of Eryndor is doing with the wounded draken she
captures, it’s more than I can risk for Ulyssus Arianda, and Nyx.
This battle is already over. All I can do now is cut our losses.
Keep Rowan alive. Get Logan out of here, keep him operational. Stop
this before the draken take that suicidal flight I already feel Ulyssus ready
to do.
“Logan, go. Now.” I holler. “On your oath.”
Logan’s eyes flash with more fury than I’ve ever seen, but as I gather
my strength and send my shadows to cover him, I know the order will be
followed. The darkness around Logan ripples and the warrior steps from our
world into the Gloom. It shouldn’t be possible this side of the wards and
we’ve long given up trying to work out how Logan can do it. Right now, the
how doesn’t matter. What matters is that Logan is alive and unharmed. That
we have a fighting chance.
My vision swims, and I drop beside Rowan, desperate to keep her safe.
“What’s happening?” she asks.
“We are surrendering,” I say, and raise my hands over my head, my
weapons clattering to the wet roof
