Page 47 of Power of Draken

“We made it,” Rowan squeezes my arm in celebration. It’s such a casual, friendly gesture, but it means everything. I feel the phantom touch of her fingers long after she lets go to move deeper in toward the back wall, where the overhang is thickest. “And look, we’re expected.”

“What?”

She points to a massive slab of granite that lies against the mossy stones, creating a small, triangular space just big enough for two people to sit comfortably. Stone walls, covered in a thick carpet of emerald green moss, rise up on either side, ferns sprouting from the cracks. Best of all, the section is surprisingly dry and has layers of ancient leaves cushioning the floor. It’s convenient and desperately needed, but that’s as far as it goes.

“You alright, chaos?” I ask. “You know the temple wasn’t really expecting us, right? It’s just here. It’s always been here.”

“Hmm?” She wavers slightly. “What did you say?”

I catch Rowan’s elbow and sit her on the stone slab, then peel off her pack and sodden cloak. This woman. How hard had she been pushing herself? How much did the trek to get here cost her?

“Talk to me,” I beg, taking her face between my palms. “Tell me you are alright.”

“I’m alright,” she says quickly, but I see her hand curling around the edge of the stone. Is she reasuring herself that it's real or trying to keep from falling? Is she dizzy? Are the now diminished shivers a sign that her body is warming up or getting too exhausted to fight for heat?

“Rowan—”

“- I’m alright. I just need to rest a bit.” Rowan’s words slur a moment before she slumps unconscious into my arms.

Chapter 23

Kyrian

Panic flushes through me as I take Rowan’s weight, her head lolling against my chest.

"Rowan." I shake her gently, then more firmly when she doesn't respond. Her face is pale, her lips tinged blue. I check her pulse, relief flooding me when I feel the steady beat beneath her chilled skin. She’s pushed herself too far. I’d pushed her too far. I adjust her body against mine, and brush her soaked hair from her face. "Rowan, wake up. Come on, chaos, open your eyes for me."

Rowan's eyelids flutter and she lets out a soft moan, her brow furrowing as she slowly returns to consciousness.

"That's it," I murmur encouragingly.

Her eyes blink open, unfocused at first before her gaze sharpens on my face.

“Shit,” she curses, throwing a hand over her face for a moment before scrambling furiously to try to get to her feet. Not that I’m about to let her, but she doesn’t know that. “I’m sorry. I -”

“- You are staying right here,” I tighten my hold. There is no way I’m letting her go until we’ve figured this out. “What happened?”

Rowan ducks her head, chestnut locks falling forward to curtain her face. "Nothing. I just got a little dizzy for a moment there."

I frown, reaching out to tuck her hair back behind her ear so I can see her expression. "A little dizzy? Rowan, you collapsed in my arms. That's more than a little dizzy."

She chews on her bottom lip, still not meeting my gaze. "Well, I’m a bit of a mess in case you didn’t know that already. So this is my normal. Ask Logan.” Her jaw tightens. “Right, not an option. He’s scouting. You really can let me go now." The last is a deliberate order and I do as Rowan asks, setting her carefully to sit on the stone slab.

“Here is what’s going to happen now,” I say, scrounging through our packs in search of anything that survived the downpour and came out dry. “We are going to get you warm and fed and talking.” And, preferably, staying conscious. I pull out my woolen tunic, which has fared the best of all our gear, plus the oiled bedroll. “So tell me something.”

“Like… what?”

“Anything. Your favorite bedtime story, or whether the commandant has always had an iron rod up her arse, or if you prefer salty snacks to sweet ones. I need to do a few things and I want to hear your voice while I do them.” Not my smoothest set of directions, but I’m so worried about Rowan that I can’t seem to put a sentence together.

Fortunately, she is the forgiving type.

“Um… alright,” she rubs her shoulders with her hands, trying to get warm. “I’m an alchemist. Obviously. But when my magic first manifested, I thought I’d be a healer. Things didn’t go that way though. Oh, and I like to read.”

“What's your favorite book?” I find the oil cloth our rations are wrapped in and cut a generous slice of cheese off. One look at Rowan’s stiff hands, and I don’t even bother handing it to her. Instead I break off a morsel and put it to her lips. “Please. You need the fuel.”

She hesitates a moment but takes the food, and I thank the stars she isn’t fighting me on this. A few more bites and her color improves enough that I feel safe turning away for a bit—but only so long as I can hear her voice. At least with injured draken I have my empathic magic to lean into. But with Rowan, I’m blind. And I hate that.

As Rowan tells me about a romance she read last, I quickly gather dry wood for a fire and coax a few sparks from my flint to start a flame. A small pot of water goes atop that and larger, more damp logs, are laid close to the flames to dry. I hang our cloaks next, then finally return to her just as the story finishes. “I swear I’m not just saying this because I like seeing you naked, but we really do need to strip. The wet clothes and the cold and -”

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