Page 44 of A War of Embers

“Fuck off, Rowan,” I groan, continuing to keep my eyes shut. Right now I can't even muster up the feeling of defeat at being caught so soon.

He’s silent for long enough I start to believe he’s taken my offer to get lost. Cool hands grab at either side of my neck, wrenching me forward and into his body. He’s like ice, burning yet cooling me everywhere he touches. He curses beneath his breath. “You’re under the Haze.”

“I don’t know what that means.” Opening my eyes, I realize he’s standing in front of me with the stupid blue scarf bound around the lower half of his face. “I take it that breathing the air is dangerous?” It certainly feels that way.

Even with only half his face showing, I can see the amusement shining in his green eyes right before he says, “Depends on if you want to fuck or not.”

What the hell kind of question is that? “Excuse me?” I incredulously ask through my dry throat.

Rowan doesn’t respond. He reaches down to the scarf stuffed in my pocket and drags it out, wrapping it around my face.

I yank it down. “I’m already suffocating on the air, I don’t need you to try and make it worse.”

“The air,” Rowan speaks slowly, “is what’s making you hot.”

As if I don’t understand the way science works. “Believe it or not, I’m not an idiot.”

“I beg to differ in this instance. The air in the Wraithlands is normal during any season beyond the Haze. During the Haze, the air heats to help the creatures here repopulate. Stripping down, noting who is the strongest or willing to bed you is the entire point of tonight. We wear the scarves because they’re magically infused to keep the air cool so we don’t succumb to the Haze the way everyone else here does.”

“You’re joking,” I gape. There’s no way the environment is so in tune with the people that live here it helps them repopulate their species. “That’s ridiculous. How does the realm know?”

Rowan yanks the scarf back up around my face. “Some things are born from the realm, did you know that? Some people think the realm is a being, able to repopulate as well to keep the rate of its species continuing. Obviously most don’t believe it. Here, in the Wrailands, it’s determined to be true. The people who live here believe it. This,” Rowan twirls his wrist in the air, “is their proof.”

I wait for the cooling effect the scarf is supposed to provide, but nothing happens. “I’m still hot,” I inform him with a whine. “Think I stole a scarf without any magic in it.”

Rowan curses again. This time, when his eyes rake me over, there’s a darkness present that’s only appeared once before. He pulls down his own scarf, then tugs mine down too. “You’re an idiot.”

“Me?” I try to gesture to myself but he’s holding onto my upper arms. “You’re the one who just told me the scarf protects you, yet you yanked yours down.”

Ignoring my statement, he redirects the attention back to me. “Why are you even out here? I thought it would take you a few days to decide to intervene on our trip.”

Lifting my chin, I answer in a haughty voice, “That’s none of your concern.”

“You’re here for some reason and I doubt it’s simply to pester me,” Rowan drawls.

The heat is beginning to seep back into my bones now that Rowan has pulled down his own scarf. Sweat begins to bead beneath the inky strips of his hair dangling on his forehead. Where he’s gripping my arms, even through the fabric of my shirt, it feels like lava is touching my skin. “You need to let me go.”

“Tell me what you’re doing out here.”

“Rowan.”

“Keres.” He lifts a dark brow tauntingly.

“You’re burning me.” I try to shrug off his hands but they remain firm. “Seriously, I’m sweaty and cranky, you need to let me go before I take off your head.” Because my skin feels like it’s on fire spreading throughout my body from where he’s holding me. It’s almost too much to take. When I try to sidestep away from him, he follows. “Don’t you need to go check on your people?”

“My people have their assignments. They’re patrolling the areas they’re supposed to be in. You, little monster, seem to have wandered into mine.” Lowering his hand, he grabs my wrist and begins to drag me past the house we were hidden on the side of, deeper into the village but further from the pyres. The darkness deepens, though the heat and spicy aroma remains thick in the air.

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere we can cool down.”

Well, that sounds promising. I keep my mouth shut at the promise of cool air and follow behind him until we’re on the edge of the homes. There’s one further out, away from everything else he leads me towards. There’s no lights on, and the frame of the door barely seems to fit Rowan’s broad form as he shoves open the dilapidated piece of wood. “You can’t break into someone’s home. I thought you were supposed to be their great leader, not a thief.”

Rowan pulls me in through the doorway, shuffling without letting me go to close the door behind us. “You can’t be a thief in your own home.”

He…lives here? I know he stays in the Wraithlands instead of the Bloody City at his estate, but for some reason I never conjured him living in an actual home. I suppose I thought he ran around, never sleeping, walking through this never ending wasteland.

“Don’t be surprised, I need shelter just like everyone else.” He pulls me down until we reach a seating area. “Sit. Don’t move or break anything.”

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