Page 49 of Power of Draken

Rowan’s eyes go so wide it makes the whole logistical nightmare of stealing the powder from the kitchens and then keeping it dry worth it.

“What about you?” I ask as Rowan relaxes back against me, hot chocolate in her hands and her soft curves molding perfectly to the hard planes of my body. As if she was made to fit there. “You don’t seem to enjoy anything about the Spire. Why go that route? Surely an alchemist would be welcome in a workshop without all the extra dangers that earning a Spire commission entails.”

I listen as she talks, telling me about her mother’s unapologetic expectations, how disappointment after disappointment changed their relationship over time. How her father left when she was born. How Ellie has been her only friend. Ellie and Collin.

She thinks she is telling me a story of a girl who’s failed on every front, but I hear a tale of a woman braver than anyone I’ve met. One who ran a clinic for the city’s poor under the commandant's nose, who never lost her ability to love when the blows she’d taken would have led anyone else to bitter hate. I hear a tale of a survivor. And I want to tell her that. But I know I can’t right now. I’ve not earned the right yet. Not earned the trust. But I will.

Because I think I’m falling in love with Rowan Ainsley.

Chapter 24

Rowan

Iwalk through the woods toward the sound of whimpers. It’s night and I’m barefoot. I don’t know why I left my bed in answer to a phantom pull, but I always do. The pull is familiar. It has always been familiar, even that first time. But now I know how this ends, and I shout to myself to stop. To go back. To run home. But my feet won't listen and the dream me hurries toward the woods, just like when it was real.

Sometimes, I see the scene through my own eyes, other times I’m an observer, watching from above as my sixteen year old self walks naively to the forest’s edge, and then beyond. This night’s dream is one of the former.

I’m near Mystwood, the forest separating the human lands from Lunos, the fae’s immortal realm. This outpost is my mother’s latest duty station. She’s busy, doing her best to keep Eryndor safe. Don’t go into the woods is an iron clad rule around here. But I’m going to break it tonight, just like I did then. I can’t change the dream no matter how many times I’ve tried.

I step into Mystwood. There is a full moon overhead, illuminating some of the path.

I find him where I always do. Golden eyes that sparkle in the moonlight, the scent of blood that matts his fur.

Run, the adult me shouts to my younger self. But, like always, the me in the dream doesn't answer. Why should she? There had been no one to shout back then. There had just been an irresistible pull.

I crouch beside the wolf. It's large and injured. My magic rallies the few slivers of healing magic that run in my veins. My brain shouts warning after warning at me. Even back then I knew that Mystwood was dangerous, that the wolf might be fae. But I don't listen. Not now, not back then. All I see is a wolf, hurt and scared, his fur matted with blood and little whimpers escaping his throat. I can't stand by and do nothing.

"Hey, boy," I say soothingly. I know he is male. "I'm here to help, alright? Can you let me help?"

I advance the last few steps toward him slowly, careful not to startle him. Magic tingles at my fingertips. Maybe if I can take the edge off his pain, he will let me?—

The pitiful little whimpers morph suddenly into a growl so powerful that it fills the whole forest with menace. I freeze with terror. The wolf lunges, its open maw filled with sharp teeth and glistening with dripping saliva. I’m frozen with terror. Bloody, strong paws crash into my chest and sharp teeth maul my face. I fall. Pain explodes along my chin and cheek. Pain and blood and terror. I scramble up and turn and run, run, run -

"Rowan," Kyrian's urgent voice cuts through the nightmare, yanking me back to reality. My eyes fly open and I gasp for breath, heart pounding wildly in my chest. The dark shadows of the forest dissolve, replaced by the longer ones of the stone walls that form our refuge. The small fire crackles close by, merrily unaware of the terror still coursing through me. “You are alright,” Kyrian promises, drawing me against him. “I’ve got ye. I’ve got ye.”

I bury my face against his bare chest, breathing in his comforting, crisp mountain scent. The heat of his skin and steady thrum of his heartbeat gradually slow my own racing pulse.

Pulling up my head, I look toward the forest, which can be seen on the far side of our shelter, where a chunk of the wall is missing.

A pair of glowing golden eyes blink at me.

I gasp, digging my nails into Kyrian’s muscle. “Here,” I croak in rising panic. “It’s here.”

Faster than I can follow, Kyrian is on his feet, naked and weapon in hand. Keeping his body between me and the exit he moves forward on silent feet. My breath halts as he steps outside, and doesn’t restart until he’s back a few moments later, his body relaxed.

“There’s no one there,” he says with no hint of reproach. Tossing his sword aside, he returns to our bedroll and sits beside me, carefully tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Do you want to tell me what you thought you saw?”

“A wolf. And I didn’t think I saw it, I…” I look back out toward where I know those golden eyes had blinked at me from the morning mist, but nothing is there. “It’s gone now.”

“Alright,” Kyrian agrees without argument. “It probably left when it realized we weren’t small prey. It’s not going to come inside at any rate. I promise I won’t let it.”

He sounds so sure of himself that it’s hard not to believe him, even though I’d have sounded just as certain that I’d never go into Mystwood barefoot in the middle of the night.

“Do you want to tell me?” Kyrian asks. “About the nightmare?”

“No.” I wait for him to press, but he doesn’t. As if he knows that if I start talking about it, I’ll break into a million pieces. I don’t understand how someone as powerful as Kyrian can be so careful. Why he’d even want to bother. I put my hand on his bare chest, the firelight sculpting the roped muscles of his stomach with warm flickering shadows. “I’m sorry.”

“I think I’ve faced worse trials than taking a peek outside,” Kyrian says with a small laugh.

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