Page 61 of Ravenrose

That’s it.

The only ones I’d bet her life on.

I drop down beside Hayes next to the fire, taking the bottle of whiskey right out of his hand before helping myself to a long drink, determined to put the spoiled faerie princess out of my head.

Still…

It’s not long until my gaze drifts.

Again.

And again.

The corner of my mouth ticks up into a satisfied smile when I spy her, curled in on herself for warmth, but taking a small bite of the bread I left behind.

At least she’s not dumb enough to starve.

Chapter 29

ROWAN

Iwake with a jolt.

The cold ground is rough against my cheek.

I’m not sure when I fell asleep, or exactly how long I was out, but by the looks of camp, it’s the middle of the night.

Ayer’s men lay spread out around the fire, still asleep.

It’s so quiet.

Not sure what woke me… I palm the ground, pushing myself up slowly, and every joint in my body rebels against the movement.

The only sounds I hear are the soft crackles of the dying fire, now just a faint orange glow in the center of the camp.

But something… is off.

Goosebumps prickle the skin on my arms and the back of my neck. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but… something isn’t right.

I scan the trees. As dense with foliage as they are, anything could be lurking out there—watching.

I shift slightly to get a look at the other side of the clearing, startling slightly at the sight of him.

Ayer sits on a log a few feet away from me, quietly carving a block of wood with his knife. He’s replaced Wyatt on watch, but hasn’t noticed me yet. Or well, hasn’t let on if he has.

Even with the captain’s eyes off me, I have an overwhelming feeling he’s aware of every move I make.

The thought of him watching me while I slept sends a chill down the length of my spine. The wave of cold spreading through me highlights every inch of abuse my body has endured over the last couple of days. Pain. Everywhere. Just a general soreness that echoes through every limb and joint, stiff from the long day of travel and only made worse by sleeping on the hard ground. The chill in the air and lack of warmth haven’t helped either.

But as much as it hurts, I’m certain the pain isn’t what woke me.

I shift, trying to sit up straighter, and even that little movement feels too loud in the silence. The quiet surrounding us almost feels oppressive; heavy and thick, as if it’s pressing in around us.

My heart quickens, and my head jerks back toward the woods, scanning the dark trees again.

The movement draws Ayer’s attention, and I see his hand tighten on the little carving blade in his hand. He doesn’t move or reach for a weapon, but he’s watching me now, his eyes narrowing with suspicion.

But I don’t think we have time for the game.