Page 94 of A War of Embers

To find peace, I will go to war.

“I’m yours, aren’t I?” I stand tall as the words spill from my mouth, a feeling of adrenaline and determination fueling my body. “If I am your mate, your equal, then you are mine, Lord of Shadows.”

Rowan hisses through his teeth, the air sizzling as he glares at me. Not entirely in anger, his eyes soften too much for there to be any full rage crossing his face. No, he’s mad I’m simultaneously agreeing to accept him as mine, knowing I may still choose to die, and make him prove I’m his equal by allowing me in on the inner workings of the war.

There’s too many paths right now. Too many unknowns leading in various directions. And as much as I don’t want to admit it, and refuse to tell Rowan he’s right, if these emotions are overloading my ability to think clearly then I’ll never know peace. I’ll only know half of my story and it’ll cost me another moment of hesitation when I finally am ready to leave the mortal realm behind for good.

“The entire time I’ve been here, you’ve been scheming,” I say tersely. “You can’t be mad when I did the same thing. I’m telling you right now that I’m willing to aid you and your people, Rowan. How are we going to move forward? What am I to you?”

“You’re pissing me off.”

“I tend to do that, yeah.” It won’t be the last time he feels this way about me either.

Rowan’s lips curve upwards. “Fine. If you’re serious about helping, then I’ll allow you to. Train the women to do what you can. If you want to fix my maps,” he kicks one on the ground with his boot, “then do so. I still don’t need them to be perfect.”

Because Tellus will bring the fight here. “You never answered me. What am I to you?”

“You’re my mate, Keres.” He lets out a deep sigh. “Nothing is going to change that. But your sudden willingness to help me doesn’t mean you get to be privy to the war room or any decisions that need to be made. You still want to die, it’s stamped into your core. If given the chance to have your peace before the war begins, it wouldn’t shock me to learn you’ve taken it.”

Placing my hand against my chest where the souls rest behind, I give him a stern look. “These immortals are preventing me from being able to rest. The only way to get to the godlike soul for you to remove is to have the immortal souls removed first. Only a High Lord or Lady can do that since they’re bonded to the godlike one inside of me.”

Rowan’s jaw tightens as he narrows his eyes. “I know. I saw what Micah said to you through your memories.” He pauses, glancing away to glare at the far wall. “But if a High Lord or Lady came here, siding with Tellus, you’re telling me you would put the lives of my people before your own desire to die?”

Would I? “I don’t know.” It may not be the answer he's looking for but it's the truth. Letting innocent people die goes against my very nature of who I want to be. But to pass up the opportunity of peace, would I let a few be sacrificed? There’s a possibility. I don’t want to lie to Rowan about this, though. He deserves to know up front I’m not entirely sure what I would do in that situation.

“When you learn to trust me, you’ll get the same level of trust in return,” Rowan counters.

There’s nothing I can say to change his mind. He has every right to only give as much as I’m willing to give him. I can’t demand he include me when I’m not even fully sure I’ll be of any assistance in the grand scheme of things. “Alright,” I concede. “That’s fair.”

He sharply jerks his chin in a nod, his eyes moving over my body slowly. Then he steps forward, grabbing me by my upper arms and hauls me into his body. The crash of our chests meeting sends a gust of air expelling from my lungs. His arms band around me, holding me tight as he presses a kiss to the crown of my head. “I thought I lost you.”

“Fate seems to want me to stay tethered to you,” I joke, but it falls flat even to my ears. “He knew who I was,” I add, referencing Micah, “without even seeing your mark. He knew I was bound to you in some way.”

“High Lords and Ladies have a keen sense of understanding a person’s magic just by being in close proximity,” he explains, still resting his chin on the top of my head. “He probably felt the essence of your magic and mine. He didn’t want to anger me.”

I snort. Rowan’s self-assurance in believing he can take on anyone who stands in his way is both admirable and psychotic. “You’re no match for a High Lord.”

“Is that what you think?” Rowan chuckles as he pulls back slightly so he can look into my eyes. “You don’t believe I can take on a High Lord?”

“They’re the original creators of our kind,” I say calmly. Why is he choosing to be obtuse about this? “It’s a well known fact that nothing can hurt them. Your magic is strong, but nothing compares to theirs.”

“Hmm,” is all Rowan replies, smiling down at me as if I have no idea what his powers can do. Even if he believes wholeheartedly in himself, he might be close to evenly matched in some regard, but not enough to overthrow a High Lord or Lady by himself.

“Should we look into the maps now?” I ask, turning to look at the many parchments littering the floor.

“No. I don't think so,” Rowan muses. “In fact, I don’t think we need to be in here. We’ll talk about the maps and what you know about Tellus later.”

My brow furrows at his dismissal. “But we should start now–”

Shaking his head no, Rowan suddenly bends down, his hands curling under the backs of my thighs as he hauls me off my feet. My legs immediately wrap around his waist to prevent myself from dangling awkwardly.

“What are you doing?” I demand.

Instead of responding, Rowan begins to stride forward, the door appearing once again. It flies open without anyone reaching forward. As Rowan steps through, I realize we aren’t being dumped into the main hallway like usual but directly into his bedroom.

Scowling, I ask, “Why are we here?”

Amusement lightens his eyes as he cocks a brow at me. “Why do you think?”

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