The Crowned Captive

Rowan worried for his sanity. Nowhere, at all, had the king mentioned he was allowed to actually feel sorry for his prisoner, or fond of her, or even friendly towards her. Yet here he was, feeling warm and fuzzy after confessing he chopped off a man’s hand for touching her. He was sick to the pit of his stomach at the thought that the king could very well order her dead once he got whatever information he so dearly wanted from her.

He was already contemplating asking the king to let her live if it came to that, although he knew the consequences would be severe and she would constantly be held over him as leverage. That was if she was allowed to live at all; King Victor was not a merciful man. The idea was unwise, but she had done nothing that he could find to deserve death. She didn’t even know of their world, having been abandoned as soon as she came into it.

Rowan continued to scowl as he picked his towel up from the ground at the edge of the water where he had left it. He dried himself quickly and dressed in clean clothes, thankful for the stickiness to be gone from his skin once more. He patted his mare then and sighed against her, looking over his shoulder to check on Morana. She trod water in the same spot still but looked up to the stars. Her hair flowed around her like a halo of silver against her skin like cream. The longer he spent looking at her glowing beneath the moonlight, the more stunning she got.

He was truly stuck between a rock and a hard place. He knew the longer he spent with her, the more fond of her he would grow. Yet if he contacted someone else to take her to the king, he would surely suffer his wrath and have to answer why. Not only that, if this whole venture was truly punishment for displeasing him, he would only make his position worse. Whilst he still aimed to secure his spot as the King’s second, he could not leave this mission. And he was stuck back at his initial conundrum of whether to ask for her to be spared or not.

He banished the thoughts from his mind, deciding them useless until he knew what her fate was truly to be, and laid back on the grass-covered shore. Above him, the stars winked down at him mockingly. He wondered which gods looked down on him tonight and if they cared at all for his predicament. Maybe they had cursed him with her for all the pain he had caused against others in the name of his king. Maybe, just for a short while, she was a gift to him for all he had gone through.

He heard the splash of water signalling Morana’s exit from the lake and forced himself to focus on the stars so as to not make her uncomfortable. From the corner of his vision, he saw movement he guessed was the towel, followed by her dressing in her spare set of riding leathers and an indigo blouse. He forced himself not to look at her and the things he knew that blouse would do to her breasts as she lay down on the grass next to him.

“Mama taught me some constellations when I was young. She showed me the warrior, and the broken heart of Love,” Morana began by way of conversation. Rowan could barely focus with the sweet scent of jasmine and rose floating over him. “Do the Fae have any different constellations?”

“I know we have constellations, but I honestly couldn’t give you an answer as to what they are,” Rowan replied, somewhat regretting not listening to the stories his best friend had often told him of the stars. The only stars he knew were those that gave directions.

“Would you like me to show you them?” She asked. Rowan rolled over to his side and propped his head on one hand, looking down at her. Her skin gleamed in the moonlight with the moisture that still clung to it, and a soft blush rose on her cheeks as he looked at her. His eyes caught on those damn pouty lips, and he forced himself to look away, taking a deep breath to centre himself.

“Maybe another night, Morana. I am truly tired now,” he said, hoping she would understand and not take it as an offence.

“Thank you for tonight, Rowan. It was nice.” Her eyes shone like gems as he looked down at her. He could so easily get lost in their depths. “It would be nicer to just let me go free, though.”

Rowan laughed at that, a deep hearty laugh that came from somewhere genuine. His grin was all amusement as he looked down at her again.

“If I did that, someone far nastier would come and hunt you down, and the king would have me strung up by my balls for all to laugh at,” he replied. Mischief was written all over Morana’s face as she shrugged.

“I would be willing to make such a sacrifice to see you strung up.”

“Get on your damn horse,” he said, rolling his eyes at her. “We are going to make camp before it gets too late.”

He did not miss the fact that she brushed up against him as she stood when she could have avoided it. Or the fact that she smiled at him as she watched him mount his horse and begin riding off. He said nothing though, only rode in silence as they meandered back the way they had come. He was truly tired as he readied the tent once more. He felt a pang of guilt at the fact he would have to force Morana to share his bed again but shoved the thought down. She was still a prisoner whom he doubted wished to go in front of the king, and it was kinder than having her sleep tied to a stake in the leaf litter. He had to ignore his feelings for now.

He listened carefully to Morana as she grabbed her nightgown and crept around behind the tent to dress. When he heard no footfall to suggest running, he changed into his nightclothes too and crept into the bedroll. Morana followed, standing in front of the tent awkwardly instead of entering.

“What are you doing, Morana?” He murmured as he looked up at her, wishing only to sleep currently.

“Can we skip the whole tying up my wrists thing? It is extremely uncomfortable,” she murmured, obviously feeling rather awkward at the request. Rowan smirked.

“If you insist on ruining my fun, I suppose we can forgo it. But if I wake to a ward being tripped, I will shoot first and ask questions later,” he replied. The fear on her face was a convincing enough answer for him.

Consequences damned, he took a deep breath and expended the extra energy to place additional wards. It was enough now that the drag was taxing on him and he struggled against sleep. With Morana comfortable in the furs, he closed his eyes and let his dreams take him.