The Stargazer

Stargazer (chapter fourteen)

Rowan glowered at the ridiculous, blossom bedecked crown of his once manly tower. Flowers swayed gently from lacy privacy screens that covered the crenellated cap, rendering it as feminine as gray stone could get. Silken scarves rippled from flowing gilt work and the morning breeze carried the seductive scent of spring.


Apathetic.


Two days had passed and the accusation still rankled. He was not apathetic. He hadn’t given up; he’d simply decided not to play the game anymore. The girl could think what she wanted.


He shifted on his feet, his glower darkening. He’d known talking to the girl would be a bad idea. Still, he’d gone and done it and now look where he was, standing out here like a fool, waiting for her to stir so he could argue with her some more. He had the sneaking suspicion he was going to be a bigger fool and enjoy it.


Color fluttered at the edge of the bower, jewel tones brilliant against the white flowers. He watched as Aislinn pushed through the flutter and gleam with a yawn, her wings stretched wide behind her. One lazy hand brushed the thick fall of curls out of her face and she leaned her elbows on the stone, gazing sleepily down at the greensward. She was a pretty picture, the light caressing the gently waving wings and drawing soft fire from her hair.


He caught himself staring and cleared his throat, crossing his arms. Aislinn tilted her chin, looking down at him, and seemed to sigh.


“Three weeks,” he bellowed.


Her wings went rigid, but she didn’t move, made no other sign she’d heard him.


“Three weeks of no dancing and we’re even,” he continued, doing his best to be polite while shouting at the top of his lungs. It had taken him two days to realize they’d never finalized their bargain. That she hadn’t taken advantage of his lapse and danced anyway had surprised him.


Pushing up from the stone, she held up a single finger and vanished back behind the veil of flowers. At least it had been a polite finger and not the one he’d been expecting. He waited as asked, not moving until she emerged again, the silky gown changed for a heavier one that left her arms bare and her wings free. With a flick of her wings, she was airborne, landing neatly a few yards away and then her wings were gone, put away so as not to bother him.


“I told you not to do that.” In spite of his determination to remain polite, he couldn’t keep the growl out of his voice.


She looked confused. “Do what?”


“Hide your wings.”


Her expression cleared, a soft huff escaping. He had the impression she was mentally rolling her eyes at him.


“Don’t flatter yourself. I put them away because it’s comfortable for me.”


“I told you they don’t bother me.”


“And I took you at your word. Not everything I do is to please you, you know.”


With her delicate chin in the air, she met his gaze firmly, obviously not cowed or intimidated by him. While he appreciated the lack of fear—he’d had enough of that to last him ten lifetimes—he couldn’t help but wish she was just a bit more deferential. She was a curvy little thing for all her slender build. He could snap her in two with one hand but pain wasn’t what he thought of when he looked at her. He didn’t know precisely what it was, but it wasn’t pain.


“Three weeks,” he said again, dropping the subject of her wings. “No dancing.”


She looked away and then back, her chin still tilted in challenge but something moved at the back of those eyes of purest blue.


“No dancing for three weeks,” she agreed.


No arguing or bargaining. No pleas with tears in her eyes. In short, none of the responses he’d expected or prepared himself for. He studied her face, giving himself a moment to collect his thoughts and choose a new approach. What he found there confused him.


“It makes you sad not to try to kill yourself for a few weeks?”


“I—” She broke off and looked away again. “I agreed. No dancing for three weeks. What more do you want from me?”


Catching her chin between two fingers, he turned her face back to him.


“I want to understand.”


“Why?” She tried to pull away, but he held her still, careful not to grip too tight. Her skin under his finger was soft, so very delicate. She would bruise too easily. “Why do you care my reasons?”


“I want to understand,” he repeated.


It was her turn to hesitate, to take stock. He had to wonder what she saw on his face because she went pliant, no longer resisting his hold.


“I don’t want to give up yet,” she whispered. “It’s not in me to give up the first time I fail. You’ve been here so long. I know that. But I also know you had to have felt this way at some time. I can’t let him win. Can you understand that?”


He did understand. God, it made him feel ancient, but he understood. He remembered that fire, that refusal to admit defeat. How long had it been since he’d even cared?


“I tried digging my way out,” he told her. “Then I spent two months chiseling at the walls with my sword.” He wracked his brain, trying to remember everything he’d tried. “I concocted an explosive and setting that one off actually created the pond in Summer.”


“Wait.” She grabbed at his arms, her eyes wide. “You managed to physically alter this reality with explosives?”


“Not enough.”


“But some.” Excitement glittered across her features. “What we need is a larger explosion.”


Her skin was so soft under his fingers. He caught himself unconsciously rubbing his thumb against her cheek and jerked his hand away, scrambling to regain his thoughts. She had a way of pushing him off course without even trying.


“Wait a minute. We have no idea if this bubble exists within a reality we can live in or not.”


“Beg pardon?”


“I mean, what if we do manage to burst this bubble and it turns out we’re on some world with poison air or seas of lava or giant carnivorous inhabitants? We don’t know.”


“But we do.” Her excitement remained undimmed. “He’s a father, Rowan. He wouldn’t put his daughters somewhere they might get hurt. He had to expect that they would fight his edict, that they would try to break the spell without falling in love. They would want to find love on their own terms, not his. He would have kept them safe no matter what.”


“You’re assuming he left this prison where he created it,” he pointed out. “We’re not his beloved kids.”


Her lips thinned. “I’m not giving up. I’ll give you the three weeks you want, but after that, I’m going to do anything and everything I can think of to get free of this place and I’ll do with or without you.”


“Alright.”


She blinked, her mouth softening in surprise. “What?”


“I understand.” He tapped her jaw, swallowing a grin at her perplexed expression. “But if you think I’m going to help you, you’re going to have to talk long and fast and be pretty damned convincing.”


Surprise turned to concentration as he’d suspected it would.


“You’re willing to listen?”


“I’m not promising I’ll agree to anything,” he cautioned her. “I’m not promising my help, but I’ll listen to any plan you want to put out there.” And poke as many holes in it as he possibly could. If she wouldn’t listen to reason, he’d keep her safe any way he could.


Suspicion narrowed her eyes. “Why are you being so nice?”


Because he wasn’t going to take be accused of apathy sitting down. Not that he was going to rush out and do anything stupid, he simply didn’t like thinking he might have quit too soon.


“I’m always nice,” he said instead. Her snort of derision made him smile. “Are you saying otherwise?”


“Did those words pass my lips?” She widened her eyes which only made her look amused, not innocent. “I’m not that foolish, Rowan.”


He grunted and watched a grin toy with the corners of her mouth.


“Go get that spear thing of yours. Oh, and change into something you can move around in.”


One brow rose over eyes dancing with laughter. “Why?”


“I haven’t seen Wheezer in days and I’m bored. I need to spar and you’re handy.”


Her wings flicked out, quivering slightly, but she didn’t move. “Do I really want to spar with you? Just how angry are you with me right now?”


The intimation he might hurt her killed his humor.  He turned away.


“Never mind.”


A soft hand caught his arm.


“I’m sorry, Rowan. I was teasing.” She came around to face him, her hand still curled around his arm as if she were strong enough to hold him if he chose to leave. It was the worry in her eyes that held him still, however.


“I’d never hurt you,” he said, his voice stiff.


She shook her head. “You’re so angry all the time. How can I know you won’t turn that anger on me?”


It was a reasonable enough question. She didn’t know him any more than he knew her. Not really. It still stung.


“I would never hurt a woman.”


“You yell at me a lot.”


“Yelling doesn’t hurt you,” he snapped. “It releases tension so I don’t do something I can’t take back.”


He was being teased again, he realized abruptly. Her expression was solemn but her eyes danced. The sting of insult softened and he took a deep breath.


“Go get your spear thing.”


“Glaive,” she corrected, her mouth curving now. With a flick of her wings, she was gone.


Rowan rubbed at his face, wondering what he’d gotten himself into now.