Page 157 of Ravenrose

If what the queen says is true, Daekhar plans to attack Sitara soon. Apparently allied with Kovaria, who, with the Raven’s help, were able to bring down Rosecliff in a matter of minutes. An army led by… Ayer.

I stare at him, searching his face, studying the hard line of his jaw and the tension locked through his shoulders, trying to decipher if the tension in them comes from loyalty to the queen… or resentment toward her.

I can’t explain it. Over the last week, things have changed between us. A tentative truce? I don’t know what to call it, but it’s something I’m sure we’ve both felt, but haven’t discussed.

There’s conflict in his eyes, and something else I can’t quite read. He’s a question I suddenly don’t have an answer to. I hate that some part of me wants him to say that what he told the queen is a lie. That he won’t touch Sitara again. That he won’t hurt my brothers.

If he does still plan on taking down my kingdom, my family—which, if I’m being honest, of course he does—can I convince him otherwise?

Chapter 65

AYER

Screams.

I jolt awake. My hand is already on the dagger tucked underneath my pillow before I’m fully conscious.

The screaming intensifies as Rowan thrashes violently beside me.

Moonlight spills across the bed in pale silver streaks, catching on sweat-dampened skin and tangled dark hair.

“Rowan.”

She doesn’t hear me.

Her breathing comes in sharp, panicked gasps as she fights something I can’t see. Her hands twist desperately in the blankets as though she’s trying to escape invisible restraints.

Another broken sound tears from her throat. The sound travels straight through to my chest, cutting deep.

“Rowan,” I try again, grabbing her shoulders this time and shaking her.

Her eyes snap open. And for one terrible second, she looks terrified—of me. A few tears escape her green eyes, and I watch one trace her cheek.

Rowan doesn’t cry.

Not when I burned her home to the ground.

Not when I burned a rune around her wrist.

And not when she nearly bled out saving my life.

But now, tears stream one after another down her cheek while she wipes frantically at them, desperately trying to pull herself together.

I freeze, hovering over her, not sure what to do.

“I’m sorry,” she chokes out suddenly, still wiping furiously at her cheeks. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Are you okay?” I ask softly, though she’s clearly not.

Rowan blinks at my words, at the unfamiliar tenderness in my voice.

God, this whole thing is a disaster.

She’s in my bed because I couldn’t risk the queen finding her without me. And she’s still wearing that godsdamned dress because I need the queen convinced Rowan is nothing more than a pet to warm my bed.

I’ve barely slept.

I can still feel her there. The weight of her on my thigh. The way she trembled every time my fingers brushed her skin. The sound she made when I bit her throat.