Page 150 of Ravenrose

“Since when do you defend fae?”

“I’m not— I…” My words trail off as my gaze drifts up—back across the square.

Rowan sits in the middle of a semicircle of children. She has them completely enthralled with some dramatic story she’s telling. Her hands fly wildly as she talks, her expression animated enough that I can almost picture whatever tale she’s busy spinning. Until suddenly, she freezes. Her expression grows ominous, and she stays completely still for a moment before snatching up the little boy closest to her and tickling him while he laughs and laughs, kicking wildly in her lap.

“She’s just not what I expected,” I mutter.

Rowan’s not weak. Not spoiled. Not helpless. Every time I think I’ve figured her out, she goes and does something else that tears apart the picture I’ve painted of her.

I feel Theo’s eyes on me, following my gaze across the square. Neither of us says anything for several long minutes, watching Rowan incite a rebellion within the small group of kids, leading them in a surprise attack against Wyatt, who pretends to fight them off using sticks as swords.

“Say it,” I sigh, unable to endure Theo’s pointed silence any longer.

Light still dances in Theo’s eyes, but all amusement has faded away from his face, leaving only a somber expression behind. “Maybe you should tell her the truth?”

The weight of his words sinks in. The fact that we’re even having this discussion is absolute insanity. This conversation. Rowan. All of it. She’s the Princess of Sitara. King Harland’s pride and joy, not to mention Fel’s bloody sister. The key to my revenge. I attacked her home, slaughtered her guards. I took her… dragging her for days through rough terrain, starving her, letting her freeze, threatening her—her brothers, all of Sitara—and still… she saved me.

She’s fae. I want to believe it was just another one of their tricks.

But I looked into her eyes as she did it. Green, ringed with molten gold around her pupils; they were wide with fear and uncertainty. Yet beneath both lay something I never expected to find directed at me.

Worry.

She took my wound—a wound that should have killed me—and drew it into herself instead. The pain alone must have been unbearable.

But tell her the truth?

“Maybe…” I murmur after several long minutes.

Theo and I both know how important Rowan is.

The two of us return to digging, but my attention keeps drifting back to her. Taking in her smile—her laugh. She’s distracting, and I let out a growl when I slam my shovel into the dirt harder than is necessary, reminding myself once more to focus.

Stop looking at her.

“Are you really going to be able to use her as a pawn against Fel?”

My grip tightens around the shovel’s handle at the sound of the fae princeling’s name.

“Fel deserves everything that’s coming to him,” I say coldly. “He’s the reason Ridge is dead.” The reason one of the three of us never made it home.

My gaze settles on the little Rose Princess again. She resembles her brother enough to make my stomach turn sometimes, but I’ve started to notice the differences too. Her hair is darker than his or Riven’s. And while her eyes are green, they’re threaded with gold—a burst of sunlight breaking through a forest of dark pine.

“But does Rowan deserve what’s coming for her?”

Theo’s question makes my jaw tick. Rowan’s brother killed my brother. Her father ended almost my entire bloodline. She owes a debt that can only be paid one way.

Revenge has never made me hesitate before.

So why does the image of Rowan bleeding leave a twisted feeling in my chest?

Chapter 63

ROWAN

Despite the victory, the overall mood amongst the Kovari soldiers is somber. There had been so much death and destruction, not to mention a few of the fae raiders had managed to evade them and currently walk free.

But even given the mood, after breakfast this morning, something shifted.