Page 45 of Ravenrose

I can end this right now.

I push myself up to my feet, keeping my footsteps light as I approach the sleeping captain. I don’t let my eyes stray off him until I find myself within reaching distance of a knife—left out on the bedside table.

My eyes dart between Rusic and his unprotected blade. Better to use his rather than mine, just in case he catches me. Then I’ll still have my blade as backup.

Casting a quick glance back at the tent’s entrance, I make my move, slowly reaching out and silently wrapping my fingers around the weapon’s handle before lifting it off the side table.

Ayer’s blade is cold in my hands, heavy too—much heavier than mine. I hold it up, willing my fingers not to shake as I inch closer.

The scars across his chest are far worse up close than they are from a distance. Beneath me lies a man who has stared down death not only once, but dozens of times.

Releasing a slow breath, I bring the blade right up to his neck. The tip pointing right along a thin white scar that marks my intended path across his throat.

I’m clearly not the first to want this asshole dead.

Despite myself, I hesitate. My resolve slips as my eyes run back over the sleeping man, guilt staying my hand.

It costs me.

My blade is still hovering over Ayer’s throat when his eyes fly open. His hand shoots up, closing tightly around my wrist. I’ve only enough time to let out a yelp of surprise before he flips us.

With my back pressed hard against the pile of furs and my hands pinned above me, my composure splinters. My struggles are in vain, however, because Ayer is an immovable wall of steel sitting on top of me, his hips straddling mine, easily keeping me pinned down under him.

His expression is stone cold.

“Never hesitate, Princess.”

My eyes widen, and I freeze.

“Now be a good little princess and drop the knife, eh?” The trace of a familiar accent I thought I noticed yesterday is more pronounced today.

But I don’t drop the knife. Instead, I tighten my grip until my knuckles bloom white; anger, frustration, and hatred burning through my eyes.

Ayer notices, and his jaw ticks as he frowns. “I see the little Rose Princess still has some fight left in her.” Dark mayhem dances in his eyes. “Okay, Princess, show me what you’ve got.”

The sudden absence of his weight above sends me reeling. He moves off me, releasing my hands to stand at the edge of the pallet—waiting. He spreads his arms wide, leaving his chest unprotected.

I swallow hard, nearly falling off the bed; my legs are a shaking mess and just barely support my weight. My gaze darts between Ayer and the closest exit—my fight-or-flight instincts kicking in.

This has to be another trap…

“Come on, sunshine. I won’t even try to stop you.” Ayer stands there, arms outstretched, watching me with a challenge gleaming in his eye. “I promise.” And then he smirks.

My blood boils at the look he’s giving me. Sunshine? Really? Does he think I won’t do it?

Gritting my teeth to contain my snarl, I push my shoulders back, tightening the grip I have on the dagger he left in my hand. I eye Ayer warily—not trusting him for a second to keep his promise. The dread and fear in my chest war with the overwhelming bloodthirsty urge to attack. He’s the captain of the Kovarian army. An army that destroyed my home, killed good men, and would have slaughtered the entire village had Fel not led them to safety. The memory of the Raven comes unbidden, and I can’t help but shiver, thinking about the dark creature. The demon Ayer and his prince had to have had a hand in summoning. My hand shakes again, this time not with fear, but with anger. It’s sharp, and it’s strong, and it strengthens my resolve.

I can kill him. I should kill him.

I take one step, and then another, slowly closing the distance between us. I’m careful to keep an eye on Ayer’s reaction, ready for him to come at me at any second, but he remains still. Though his eyes glint with a dark excitement the closer I get.

When I’m within striking distance, I stop, tilting my head to keep his eye, testing whether or not he’s actually going to let me do it. Still sure he’s bluffing. He’s so sure I won’t... He doesn’t make a single move to protect himself, doesn’t take the knife from my hand, doesn’t even so much as flinch when I lift it up, until once again, I have the sharp steel pressed against the vulnerable skin of his throat, lined up perfectly with that long silvery scar.

“Never hesitate.” His own words echo in my mind, and this time, I don’t; I wrench my hand back, driving it down forcefully, aiming for his throat. The captain still doesn’t move, that aggravating smirk still on his face.

I’m so busy watching him that I’m wholly unprotected to defend against my own body…

The blade is seconds from piercing his skin when a strangled scream rips free from my throat. I fall to my knees, fighting for breath as if all the air has left my lungs. My vision blurs, the world tilts, and my gaze flickers with darkness. It’s a fight to stay conscious as pain tears through me in never-ending waves. It’s everywhere; burning, endless, ripping me apart from the inside.