Page 94 of Feathers and Thorns

“Whatever happens, I love you guys,” Soren said tearfully.

Rook couldn’t help but shift in his seat at the sentiment. He felt slightly disappointed that she was not directing those words at him. He knew how she felt, but he had hoped that, with so little time left, she would say it. He would have begged on his knees to have her speak those three little words to him, but he also knew that when she did speak them, he wanted it to be of her own volition. So, he waited.

He did not regret saying I love you first. He had never spoken those words to anyone in his life before Soren, and he was glad for it. Those words belonged to her and no one else. He would stand by her on the battlefield tomorrow and fall before any sword in an effort to protect her. He would take every cut of a blade, every sting of an arrow, every crush of a fist, and every slice of a talon before he would let Adriel take her from him.

All the soldiers thought they were going to war with Adriel when, in reality, Adriel was going to war with him, and he would lose.

* * *

Soren dragged out dinner to spend more time with Baz and Enara. She had missed this. She had needed today, and she couldn’t be more thankful that Rook understood that she required some extra time with them.

From her understanding, he had spent the afternoon with Meena and Evelyn, making sure they were prepared for what was to come. She knew he was scared for them, but he would never say it; she didn’t think he had to. He loved them just as she loved Baz and Enara, in his own way.

As they left the common area, she gave Baz and Enara one last squeeze and let her fingers entwine with Rook’s as he led the way back to their tent. She remained silent as they entered, the weight of what was to come sitting heavily on her shoulders.

“I have something for you,” Rook said, beckoning for her to sit on the cot. “I should have given them to you sooner, but I was waiting for the right time.” He reached into his pack and pulled out a roll of fabric. He laid it out on the blanket beside her then unfurled it to reveal four immaculately formed daggers.

“Rook, these are beautiful,” she marveled, lifting one of the blades and taking in all the fine details. The handles were carved from the same white antlers that formed the chandelier at Thorncrest Manor. She traced a finger along the roses and vines that had been whittled into the animal bone, and her eyes misted. “You remembered,” she whispered, twisting the blade around in her hand, testing its weight.

“A flower is only as good as its petals, so I thought I would give you some thorns.”

“If I am the thorn, then you are the feather—strong in the harshest of winds, but the softest of souls.”

“We could name them as such,” he said. “If you wanted.”

She nodded. “Name them as the parts of a feather so you can be with me out there.”

“This will be Rachi,” Rook named the blade in her hand then pointed to the other three, assigning their titles. “Then Vane, Quill, and Notch.”

“They are perfect,” Soren said. “Did you carve them yourself?” She traced the blade to its tip and then hissed when she nicked herself.

Rook reached forward to grab the injured finger and sucked it into his mouth to remove the crimson droplet from its end. “Yes, while I healed,” he answered, keeping pressure on her fingertip. It was the tiniest of cuts and stopped bleeding almost instantaneously.

“Thank you,” she breathed and turned to embrace him.

“You’re welcome, little bird,” he said into her hair. “Besides, I owed you.”

She let out a soft laugh. “That you did.”

“I am sorry,” he said seriously.

“For what?”

“About making you lose your father’s daggers. Had I known they were so sentimental, I would have?—”

“Stop.” Soren pressed her hand to his mouth. “I don’t want to spend what could be our last night together dwelling on our past mistakes. I just want to be here with you.”

He nodded, kissing the tips of her fingers before removing her hand so he could lean in to kiss her lips. She sighed against his mouth, and a hungry growl broke free from the back of his throat.

“Wait,” she said breathlessly, and he pulled back, searching her eyes.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, his brow worrying.

“Not at all,” she replied. “I just hope you know how much you mean to me.”

“I know,” he replied, twirling her hair between his fingers. The blue strands had fallen loose from their ties and fell in a soft curtain around her shoulders. Her dark eyes danced in the low flame of the oil lamp, and her skin glowed a deep bronze. He brushed her hair aside and trailed kisses down her shoulder, relishing in the way it caused goosebumps to rise on her arms.

He removed Rachi from her hand and placed it with the rest of the blades, rolling them up and setting them on the table. Soren was surprised when he held out a hand instead of rejoining her on the cot.

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