Page 63 of A War of Embers

“Probably close to an hour walk on foot until we reach the city. Lord Rowan has another estate here, we could use some of their animals to get to the dragon’s home.”

At least our plan, for the most part, is going accordingly. Nodding, I slip off the horse and gather the new sheath for my sword and the pack Alyvia gave me of supplies needed. She quickly does the same, the reins loose in her hand as she walks to the front of the horse.

Both suddenly jerk out of our hold, twisting and turning until they’re racing back in the direction of the estate. Alyvia’s startled curse catches me off guard.

“We’re definitely going to get found out when the horses arrive without riders,” I comment.

“I can’t believe they just left us here!” Alyvia exclaims in a fit of ire. “The damn beasts are supposed to heed the master riding them.”

Even though the situation doesn’t warrant it, I find her demeanor amusing nonetheless. “Technically when we got off we were no longer riding them.”

Alyvia turns her feral glare on me. “We have no way to get back to the Blood City without being exposed.”

“We’ll take animals from the Bone City’s estate then.” Easy answer, though I have no idea if the estate there has the type of animals to get us back and forth between where we need to go. Just because they'll venture into the Wraithlands doesn't mean they'll go as far back to the Blood City.

Blowing out a breath of air, she nods in agreement, seeming to calm herself in the process. “Sorry. I’m not used to breaking the rules. It's both exhilarating and making me want to puke all over that bush over there.” She waves towards a bush at the base of a nearby tree.

“What happens if we’re successful and you return without me?” I ask. This is one part of the plan we haven’t discussed. I don’t know if she’s worried about how Rowan will react to my ultimate demise and take it out on her or if he’ll simply be irritated but disinterested in her involvement.

Alyvia opens her mouth then quickly shuts it, averting her gaze as she quickly begins walking down the path we were on at a brisk speed.

“Alyvia,” I state in a warning voice. The fact she shut down doesn’t bode well for me. She seems to know exactly what will happen if I don’t return to Rowan’s estate. Why keep it hidden? What isn’t she telling me? A mixture of anger and hesitancy fuels my veins, making my body feel stiff as I regard her warily. “What happens to you?”

“Nothing.” Another puff of air leaves her lungs as she manages to sound calm, even as a tremor makes itself known in her hand. “Honestly, I won’t get in trouble if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“How do I know that for sure?” I press. The last thing I want is for her to have the riot act read to her for merely helping someone she considers a friend. I wouldn’t think Rowan would be so callous as to strip her of her title and job, but I have no idea how he would react. In anger? Acceptance? Indifference?

Alyvia licks her front teeth in a derisive movement. “I won’t get in trouble,” she repeats in a meek voice, “because the mark on your cheek means your word holds as much weight as Lord Rowan’s. You’re considered his equal in his own eyes. Therefore if you order me to help you, I am merely obeying the law he enacted when he marked you.”

My entire body stills at her comment. Absolutely not. There’s no way a Lord would impart any of his reign over to someone else. Let alone someone he barely knows, can hardly tolerate on the best of times. “I’m not a Lady,” I scoff. Surely this isn’t why everyone has been in such a tizzy over the tattoo. Something in me revolts at the idea of the tattoo signifying something as dramatic and foreboding as what she’s claiming.

“Not…technically.”

None of this conversation makes any sense to me. Her blasé belief in Rowan’s inability to punish her because of his own doing makes my skin feel stretched too tight, like the power of his washing over me trying to fit like a second skin to prove itself. “Why would he mark me as his equal?” I don’t realize I mutter the question aloud until Alyvia responds to me.

She shrugs. “You’re the first person in a long time to challenge him. He seems to find it refreshing even though it obviously aggravates him at the same time. The mark is technically approval from his monster, stating it values you as a being and considers you its equal. Since his monster is considered a ruthless being, everyone takes its statement on you as a big deal. Normally, I would suggest maybe Lord Rowan and his monster are on opposing sides, like his monster marked you but he didn’t, except it was Lord Rowan who kissed you before he left, so I think they both see you as their equal.”

For once, I’m left momentarily speechless. What do I say to that? Where to even begin to pick apart her tale? Seconds slip by into minutes, the only sound is of our feet against the dirt of the trail as we continue on our mission. Finally, after collecting myself, I manage to formulate a question regarding her theory. “What do you mean his monster sees me as its equal?”

“Have you not encountered Lord Rowan’s monster?” Alyvia frowns. “I thought for sure you have had to. His eyes turn black entirely–”

She continues talking but the abrupt vision of Rowan moving over me, thrusting inside of me with black eyes so dark and soulless, the memory snatches all of my senses. I can practically taste his skin, smell him as we walk through the forest. My lower belly clenches at the memory. “What does he turn into?” I ask, cutting off whatever she was saying.

Alyvia silently watches the road ahead of us for a moment. She seems to take her time in finding a way to answer me, which doesn’t do anything but wrack up my nerves as the wait continues. Finally she says, “I don’t know.”

The ominous feeling her answer gives off settles in my bones, reminding me there are far worse things out there in this world than death.

Growing up, I heard stories of creatures from this world. They were here long before we arrived, integrated with the mortals. They held their own courts, set up boundaries in places no one thought to be inhabitable. When our species came from beyond this world through a portal, we became the apex predators over everything. The High Lords and Ladies molded this realm into something they could foster in prosperity and destroy when necessary.

Yet somehow Rowan seems to be more. What if the man Sereia found to impregnate her was not of their race? What if he was something older, darker than anything the High Lords or Ladies could think to handle? What kind of monster resides inside of Rowan?

I shift uneasily at the idea of his monster choosing to mark me. This isn’t something I have any control over and no idea how to remove. If everything goes according to plan, the mark will mean nothing when I’m being engulfed in flames of fire from the dragon. But if nothing works, Rowan and I are going to have a very violent discussion on why branding someone without their agreement is not okay.

“Do you think you’ll perish easily in the fire? I know the flames are enchanted to kill anything they scorch, but I’ve never heard of them killing immortals.”

“There’s a possibility the fire will snuff out the souls inside of me.” My body will have taken a beating at that point. Flesh curling off my bones in chunks, baring my souls to the realms eyes for easy exsanguination.

“You think something as menial as fire will work?”

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