Page 142 of Ravenrose

It was over. I’d made my peace with it. And then the scent of wildflowers and honey filled my nose, and I found myself staring up into pools of evergreen.

Rowan.

I thought she was going to run. Stones, I could’ve sworn she would have. I even told her to. So why didn’t she?

I passed out. The next thing I remember is the sharp, metallic scent of her blood as it soaked the leaves between us.

“Please don’t tell anyone.”

One second, I’d been on the gods’ bridge, and the next⁠—

My fingers find the tear in my tunic where the wound should be, but find only a thin, jagged little scar.

Impossible.

I know how deep that blade cut; it sliced straight through me. The blood loss alone…

I should be dead.

Gods, I’m certain I’d be dead if it weren’t for her.

She was still staring into my eyes when she fell, but I caught her. Her face pale even in the dark of the shadows surrounding us, breaths coming slow and blood pouring steadily from her side.

A deep sword gash, located right between her ribs, on her left side…

Just like mine.

Ripping off a piece of my tunic, I applied pressure to the wound, shouting for help, but it was no use. We were too far into the woods for anyone to hear us.

Finding the strength, I pushed myself to my feet, scooping Rowan up and carrying her back to the village, doing my best to keep pressure on her wound.

Theo and Wyatt spotted us immediately.

“What happened?” Theo asked hastily, concern knitting his brows together as he surveyed the bloodied cloth I held tight to Rowan’s side, and the way she lay limp in my arms.

Good question, I thought, but since I didn’t have an answer to give him, I ignored it. “We need Hayes.”

Wyatt nodded in agreement, taking off and returning only minutes later with Hayes in tow.

As gently as I could, I laid Rowan down on a clean patch of grass, stepping back to let Hayes and Wyatt get to work.

Her blood soaked my shirt, coating my arms.

The fear in her eyes still haunts my thoughts—the way she had looked at me.

“Please don’t tell anyone.”

What she did… it shouldn’t be possible, but yet she’d done it. I can’t tell you how. Even now, my eyes flicker to her bare wrist; the dark lines of my rune are still there—still etched into her skin. Unbroken.

She did the same with the baby, I realize—Josi. The princess had been insistent that she hold her. I remember how she stroked the child’s cheek with her fingertips, humming softly. She collapsed not nearly a day later, sick to death, and burning with red fever.

I chalked it up to coincidence. Red fever is going around. I didn’t think fae got sick, but supposing I was wrong, she could’ve contracted it weeks before I took her. The symptoms merely appearing with poor timing.

But now I know. Somehow, she healed us both. Somehow, despite the power-blocking rune, she took the baby’s sickness into herself—and she stole my fatal wound.

I reach forward, my eyes leaving her face to lift the blanket covering her, revealing the clean white bandage I know covers the jagged lines of a cut identical to the brand new scar on my side.

Kent was sure. That baby never should have survived.