Page 147 of Ravenrose

The new leathers fit snug against my hips.

Black this time. The same colors Ayer and his command wear. Different from the navy and silver that the rest of the Kovarian army and Theo wear.

I don’t know why yet. My leading theory is that Ayer just wanted to be different; it sets him apart, and the darker color certainly plays into his whole intimidation gambit.

Oooh… look at me in my black leathers. I’m so spooky and scary, a total menace to society. I’m not like the other soldiers…

I roll my eyes, letting loose a small laugh at Ayer’s expense.

Perhaps I can get Wyatt to tell me. Or Theo… I did save his life the other day after all.

I run my hands down the fitted material; it molds to my body in a way that feels both protective and freeing. It’s surprisingly light, and it’s so nice not to be weighed down by heavy or sodden skirts. The leather is flexible, and it moves with my body instead of trying to control it the way a corset would.

Alita would have a fit if she saw me right now. I’m not even allowed to wear trousers! Only pretty gown after pretty gown, lest I ever forget who I was born to be.

Cinching the last strap, I do my best to finger-comb the tangled mess that is my hair before braiding the length of it down my back to keep it out of my face.

Hair done, I pull on my boots and slide for the door. I hesitate before tugging it open, unsure of what awaits me outside. It feels like everything has changed overnight, but… what if it didn’t?

I fought alongside Kovari soldiers—saved a couple of them, too. And in return, they saved my ass once or twice, but I’m still a prisoner. I’m still their prisoner.

My hand comes away from the door handle, pushing up my sleeve to expose Ayer’s rune on my wrist. A reminder, in black, swirling ink, of who I am and who Ayer is too.

He’s still the captain who let loose a demon on my home. The man who ordered the slaughter of the entire castle guard without even a hint of remorse. Twelve hells, he would have killed me too if Theo didn’t have other plans.

Stupid girl. Keeping you alive is his job. That’s the only reason he keeps saving your ass. And you just had to go and return the favor. Like an idiot.

But the hand of the man who promised me death is the same hand that was wrapped around my body last night. The same hand that so carefully avoided my injury when he dragged my body up against his, holding me there until I finally relented and relaxed into his warmth.

I blow out a breath, tilting my head back to look at the ceiling. My feelings on this are… complicated, to say the least. I shake my head, clearing away the messy thoughts before rolling my shoulders back and lifting my chin. I march over to the door with confidence, pulling it open and step out into the hall.

Ayer is leaning against the wall, his attention fixed on a small wooden carving in his hand and the knife he’s using to carve it with. It’s the same wood carving I saw him clutching back at the river. He’s been working on it since he took me.

His eyes lift to meet mine, and for a moment, neither of us says anything as I watch him take in the new leathers on my body.

His throat clears. “The leathers fit.”

“Mhm,” I agree, unsure of what else to say.

“Hungry?” he asks, not waiting for my answer before pushing off the wall and turning down the narrow hall. The wooden floorboards creak under his weight.

I follow him silently.

The low din of voices grows louder as we descend the stairs, and soon I find myself in front of a small but packed dining hall.

I freeze on the bottom step, my fight-or-flight kicking in.

The room is full of men. Most of whom I recognize from Ayer’s command. They’re spread out along several long tables. It’s only the sweet scent of actual food that keeps me from running right back upstairs. A girl can only survive on jerky and wild berries for so long.

“Rowan!”

My head turns at the sound of my name, finding Theo beaming at me from one of the crowded tables, enthusiastically waving me over.

Wyatt and Hayes sit across from him, but the rest of his bench is empty. Ayer disappeared somewhere into the crowd, so I step quickly toward Theo. My eyes dart about the busy dining hall, anxious amid so many Kovari soldiers and men from the village.

But as anxious as I feel, nobody stares—or whispers, or glares. The few I make eye contact with nod politely in greeting before returning to their conversations, as if my being here—among them—without my hands bound in rope is suddenly normal.

I reach the table without incident, slowly sinking down into the seat beside the Kovari prince. Before I’m even fully settled, someone places a plate piled high with steaming hot eggs, sausage, and roasted potatoes in front of me. Another half second later, Ayer drops unceremoniously into the empty seat to my left, his arm brushing mine.