Page 61 of Brutal Birthright

Leaving him clutching her arm so tight it would probably leave bruises. But his hold on her had stopped Oriana from collapsing to the ground. Instead, her head lolled forward and her body went limp as a result of the force. It punched against the protective barrier of his magic in a pressure wave, the likes of which he’d never encountered before.

Godsdamnit. Rowan checked her quickly, satisfied she was still breathing at least. Gathered her into his arms...

And stilled.

Behind her lay the other fae girl. Saskia.

Her skin covered in symbols he recognised immediately. The same as those found on the bodies outside the academy.

Blood pooled and dripped down the steps below her body.

He blew out a long breath. If there was anything he’d pray to have relieved Oriana from, it would be the sight of her friend being beheaded in front of her eyes. Rowan could only hope she’d been knocked unconscious in the split second before it happened.

Guilt and bile rose in the back of his throat. Taking in deep, slow breaths, he cradled her soft body against his chest and surveyed the macabre scene at his feet.

The grotesque reality of death for a supernatural being.

He’d been too slow. If only he’d made a move a fraction of a second sooner, his magic might have shielded both girls. Or it might have been insufficient to protect either of them. Fuck. His chest burned at the realisation.

A haunting knowledge that whatever that entity was, if he hadn’t been there, it would have undoubtedly killed Oriana too.

Three things happened in quick succession.

Rowan took the girl slumped in his arms to the safest place he knew. Somewhere he could leave her for a few moments and not go out of his mind with worry. Followed by finding Finnic and putting him in charge of the fae guards and barking out orders to secure the academy grounds. Then, he delivered the news to the queen and his brother.

Leaving out the part about Oriana, for now.

It wasn’t necessarily the right thing to do, but in battle there was rarely ever a clear black or white answer. And in this case, there was no way to explain him being there, with her, without fielding questions he didn’t have the answers to.

Added to the fact that Ruby would demand to see her sister immediately when he had zero interest in relinquishing her from his protection.

She was safest under his watch.

Of that, he was fucking certain.

Being the queen she was, Ruby took it all in her stride. Death was as much of a familiar foe to her as any. Moving to make contact with the girl’s family and make arrangements to have her body returned to them. Niall handled the observations of the markings covering her skin where the entity had carved them into her pale flesh.

Which left Rowan able to slip away.

The moment he laid eyes on Oriana again—sleeping on her side, with her dark hair fanned out across the pillow beneath her head—he felt like his lungs began to function properly once more.

He hadn’t been back here in too long. Far too long.

Glancing around the room, he tried to see it through the eyes of someone else. The small details, like the way the forest outside almost kissed the glass panes of the cottage window. How the long lines of the soft cedarwood planks on the walls each held their own knotted story. The muted silvery-grey of the cashmere blanket laid over top of white linen sheets. Perfect for keeping cool on long nights spent tossing and turning in a fever of nightmares and restless sleep.

Other than the occasional unwanted intrusion from his fucking family, no one came here. That was exactly how he liked it. Endless blood wards surrounding the property–safeguarding it from trespassers–ensured it stayed that way, too.

Rowan sank heavily into the high-back chair in the corner. Resting his forearms on his knees and dropping his head forward into his hands. Shit. There was no plan here. No foresight. Just instinct and adrenaline and an urgent need to protect the tiny girl lying curled on her side in his bed.

Which had him immediately jumping to his feet. Unsettled energy surged through his blood and dug deep into his bones. He moved out through the wooden door, careful to shut it quietly behind him and inhaled in the familiarity of the space around him.

His sanctuary.

A flick of his fingers was all it took to use his magic and light the small hearth, more out of habit than any actual need for warmth. He wandered to the cabinets of the small kitchen area set against one wall. The small cabin was everything he needed. A place to rest his soul and enjoy the deepening shades of dappled green light filtering through the leaves outside.

Subtle scents of woodsmoke and moss and cedar washed over him. Soothed him just a fraction.

He fished out a bottle of whiskey and a glass before making his way back to the chair beside the fire. One single, heavy-set armchair. Because he never needed more than that for himself when he was here.

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