The Stargazer

Stargazer (chapter seven)

Rowan yanked his sword from its sheath, charging the creatures with a yell. Defending his tower was a lot more satisfying than arguing with that woman. He didn’t want her here. He just wanted to go home and forget he’d ever made that idiotic bargain with the Fae King. That the slip of a princess would go toe to toe with him over his manners pissed him off even as a trickle of admiration for her courage found its way through a chink in his armor. The previous occupants of his little prison hadn’t been willing to raise their voices to him. He didn’t want to like her, damn it. That was the first step down a long, slippery, and painful road.


His frustration at the situation he found himself in spilled over and he nearly cut the first creature in half with a single blow. Ducking under the wild swing of the second, he sank his blade into soft flesh, ripping it out the side with a savage pull. Blood splattered over the verdant lawn and Rowan roared his defiance.


This was where he belonged, in battle where things were simple. Live or die. Kill or be killed. No gray areas. No rules of etiquette to remember. Just the reliable solidity of steel.


A furry arm landed in the grass beside him and he stopped thinking. He waded into the pack, steel slicing through the attackers with satisfying precision. He parried the heavy blows of the axes aimed his way, thuds and grunts filling his ears. He jerked back, the thick blade barely missing his nose. As one, the beasts turned aside, intent on a new target.


A flash of silver and crimson caught his eye and he turned to see the princess dive into a cluster of four of the beasts, a short silver spear with a long blade on the end in hand. He heard bellows of pain and then she shot skyward again, propelled by butterfly wings whose jewel tones caught the light making her a very visible target for the beasts that clamored and roared below her.


Fear slashed through him, sharp and jagged. The fool girl was going to get herself hurt!


Changing directions, he began to cut a swath toward her current position. The beasts, intent on weaker prey, didn’t react until it was too late and they were dead on the grass.  As he reached her position, the princess gave a flick of her wings and dove into a group yards away from him, her odd spear-like weapon flashing in the light.


Rowan swore. What did she think she was doing? Women didn’t fight. They were too weak, too soft, to kill. They were crafted to bear children, not wage war. A second later, a streak of fire and jewels shot out of the melee. Once more, Rowan cut down the beasts that blocked him from his target feeling no remorse for the backstabbing. When he got his hands on her...


An ax cut an ugly crease in his upper arm and he swore. That hurt! The beast’s momentary luck ended on the grass in a puddle of blood and Rowan looked around for more.


Twenty-five shaggy bodies littered the ground around him, all dead. His grip on his sword tightened, whitening his knuckles as fear transmuted to raw anger. Ignoring the flicker of color that settle to earth not far from him, he closed his eyes, grappling with the fury that pulsed under his skin like a living thing.


“You’re hurt!”


Soft hands closed on his wounded arm, shocking him out of immobility. Startled, he shook her off, stepping away to a safer distance. Showing a distinct lack of common sense, she followed him, reaching for his arm again.


“Don’t touch me.” The growl made her pause but those china blue eyes narrowed and she didn’t back away.


“You’re hurt,” she told him as if he was unaware of the blood running down his arm. “I just want to see how badly.”


Blood marked her flowing gown and her silver spear lay in the grass, the long bladed tip covered in fur and body fluid.


“What did you think you were doing?” he grated, holding onto his temper by a thread.


Her chin came up and he knew in his gut this was going to end badly.


“I was thinking I was distracting them to give you a better chance.”


“You distracted me and that’s when this happened.” He thrust his arm in her direction, displaying the wound. “You had no business jumping in.”


“I had every right to defend the only place I have to sleep,” she shot back. “I have the same right you do.”


“This is my tower. My fight. My business.”


“Your tower. Your fight. Your prison.” She took a step closer, her wings vibrating. “Not everything is about you, you ungrateful changeling. I’m stuck here in your prison and, until you deign to tell me how to get out, you’re stuck with me. Deal with it.”


“You have no business jumping into a fight like that,” he shouted. “You’re a woman, Princess, in case that fact escaped your notice.”


“And what does that have to do with anything?” she shouted back. “My parents didn’t raise weaklings, male or female. My brothers and I learned to defend ourselves physically and magically from the time we could understand words. Gender has nothing to do with it.”


“Women have no business in battle!”


“I’m faster than you are,” she countered. “It made more sense for me to distract them while you grunted and hacked. Forgive me for wanting to keep you in one piece. Now shut up and sit down. I need to wrap up that arm of yours before it falls off.”


A wad of white cloth was shoved between them held in a helpful, leathery hand.


“Go away, Wheezer,” they said in unison.


Rowan closed his eyes again. This wasn’t happening. The last thing he needed was the woman cooing and fussing over him but he didn’t think she was going to back down. She showed no signs of being intimidated by him and that cut his options to practically nil since he couldn’t lay hands on her without feeling guilty about it.


“Sit down.”


The command was issued in lighter, feminine tones that did nothing to disguise the steel will behind it. He had no choice. She simply wasn’t going to give up and go away like any sensible woman would do.


He threw his sword onto the grass and sat with a thump, holding his arm out from his side without prompting. If he said nothing, maybe she would bandage him up and go away. He didn’t think he could take much more of her defiance. He just didn’t know what he’d do about it if she continued to plague him.


“Thank you.”


Clipped and sharp, her tone was at odds with the gentle touch on his arm as she turned it to inspect his wound. A cool damp cloth cleaned away the drying blood from his skin to be replaced by a softer cloth and the sensation of soft hands winding a binding strip around the bandage.


A subtle fragrance of flowers touched his nose. The shift of silky fabric whispered. Rowan did his best to ignore them but his muscles eased against his will, his heart rate slowing back to normal. He refused to notice the skip in his pulse each time her fingers brushed his skin. He was still shaky from adrenaline. That was all. It wasn’t her.


Curiosity edged his eyes open a fraction and he chanced a peek. She bent over his arm, a scowl etched over delicate features. There were no marks on the bit of her he could see for which he was grateful. Her dress was bloodstained but not damaged which led him to believe the blood belonged to the beasts and not her. A frown cut his musing short.


“Where are your wings?”


They’d been there when she’d been arguing with him but the gossamer fragile things were gone as if they never had been. Eyes so pure blue they were unreal flicked up and then and he could almost hear his own words being tossed back at him.


Not your business. Mine.


She took a deep breath and focused on looping the bindings one more time before tying them off.


“I put them away when I don’t need them,” she said.


He opened his eyes fully then, surprised that she’d answered. It must have shown on his face because she shrugged.


“I could be just a snarly as you but that won’t convince you I’m not your enemy. You don’t like anything Fae and my wings are a reminder of what I am. In the interest of peace, I’ll keep them out of your sight as much as I can.”


He couldn’t respond, too stunned to think of words. She touched the bandage, a slight, apologetic smile curving her mouth.


“I’m sorry. If I could touch my magic here, I could heal that faster for you, but I seem to be cut off from everything in this place.”


Her apology held him in place as she gathered her skirts and rose, picking her way through the fallen bodies to reclaim her spear. With the same delicate grace, she made her way back to the tower and vanished behind it. She would fly to the top but she would do it out of his sight to spare him the reminder she was Fae. Courtesy when he’d only made things more difficult on her.


He turned to stare at the odd, lacy bower that had appeared overnight on the top of the blunt, ugly tower fortress, not sure where his spinning thoughts would land him. One thing was for certain, the woman was nothing like the princesses he’d met before and that was the biggest danger.