Page 119 of Ravenrose

And the looks these silver-clad soldiers give me… My eyes flick from soldier to soldier, making sure none of them get too close. I don’t realize that I’ve pressed myself as close as I have to Ayer until he stops. I notice a little too late, too busy eyeing my new surroundings, and I crash hard into his back.

Ayer whips around and my eyes go wide, suddenly finding us chest to chest. His jaw tightens, and his hand shoots out, wrapping itself around my arm and steering me roughly forward, toward a larger grouping of silver soldiers waiting in front of the entrance to the fort itself. As we draw closer, Ayer releases my arm, but the look he gives me says enough.

Stay quiet.

Wyatt and Hayes close rank behind us, far too casually to be unintentional.

I lift my eyes, keeping my focus forward, nearly tripping over myself when I see who waits up ahead.

Riggs.

He smiles when he sees me looking, and I balk against Ayer’s grip, which only forces him to tug me forward again.

Bile rises in my throat at the memory of Kovaria’s corporal. Memories of his hands on my body, creeping up my thigh.

Ayer’s grip on me is unyielding, but I slow my pace, deliberately—carefully—dropping ever-so-slightly behind Ayer, feigning deference to the captain. Gods, I hope Riggs fears Ayer enough to leave me alone for however long we’re here.

The smile on the corporal’s face is less than reassuring.

His sleazy smile only widens as he watches me. I do my best to keep my face blank, but it’s work to keep my fear from my eyes.

Ayer lets go of my arm to step forward, leaving me with Wyatt. I have to resist the urge to go with him. There’s something different; I catch the shift immediately. Over the past week, he’d blended in easily with his men, still their commander but one of them all the same. Now, as he approaches the corporal, that ease vanishes. His shoulders square, his gaze sharpens, and there’s a newfound authority in the way he stalks forward, his cloak billowing in the increasing winds, the skies above darkening with storm clouds.

Ayer stops in front of Riggs, partially blocking the corporal’s view of me. Riggs’ eyes finally slide from me to his captain.

“Captain Rusic!” Riggs exclaims rather boisterously, reaching forward to clasp Ayer on the back as if they are old friends. I don’t miss the way Ayer bristles at his touch, or the warning that dances in his eyes. “To what do we owe this pleasure?” Riggs’ head tilts to the side, his eyes finding me again.

“Corporal.” Ayer returns Riggs’ greeting with a curt nod. “I think it would be best if we talked inside.”

Riggs waves his hand dismissively, disregarding Ayer’s formality. “Plenty of time for that. You and your men look tired. Why not take a rest first? Eat! Drink! Then perhaps we can discuss whatever errand Theo sent you out here for over dinner?”

Ayer stiffens, but Riggs doesn’t give him a chance to refuse.

“Come now,” the corporal presses, his grin widening further. “A couple of hours’ rest won’t end the world.” He looks around, and a few of his men laugh at the joke.

Ayer exchanges a quick look with Wyatt. The latter is uncharacteristically stone-faced as he nods. “Fine.” He agrees reluctantly, his frown deepening. “We will discuss over dinner.”

Riggs claps his hands together. “Excellent!” And then his eyes find me again. “I’m surprised to see you still have your little fae pet.” His smile turns darker—crueler—as his voice drops lower. “Tell me, has the little bird sung yet?” He tilts his head, his eyes scanning the length of me while my stomach churns violently under his assessment.

I keep my eyes on the ground, watching him from my periphery. Something tells me Riggs is not one to taunt with a challenge.

“She looks a fair bit more contrite since the last time I saw her. Tell me Theo found the rest of that Sitara royal filth and burned them alive?”

My fingers twitch toward the blade hidden under my skirts at the mention of my brothers, but I resist the urge to snatch it free, not wanting to give Ayer a reason to confiscate it.

My muscles lock as my body tenses, every instinct screaming to attack—to gouge the man’s eyes out—but I keep my feet planted, my spine rigid, taking care to school my face into neutrality. I have years of court training to thank for this level of emotional control. It’s clear Corporal Riggs gets off on provoking others, and I will not let him bait me.

Indeed, his smile fades when I fail to react. I keep my gaze fixed on the dirt below, though I catch the change in his expression from the corner of my eye. A muscle feathers in his jaw before his gaze goes back to Ayer.

The captain is watching me too. I can feel him—see him out of the corner of my eye, while I keep my focus on Riggs, not trusting him for a second.

“Last we heard, Rosecliff is secure; however, there’s no trace of the Rose Court or its princes.”

I blow out a breath of relief, shifting on my feet despite myself. Riven and Fel are safe.

They’re safe.

Riggs clicks his tongue. “Curious,” he muses. “Yet their princess appears alive and well.” He frowns at me before his attention shifts to Ayer. “You let your history with Fel cloud your judgment. She knows where they are, yet somehow we still don’t.” His eyes drift back to me. “No broken bones, no bruises worth mentioning, and she’s unbound? With no signs that she’s even been questioned at all?”