The Stargazer

Stargazer (chapter fifteen)

Aislinn ducked, her wings tucked close to her body, and the broad blade of the sword whooshed over her head. Immediately, she launched herself into the air to avoid the backswing she knew was coming. Rowan was not only strong enough to wield that sword of his with authority, he was quick enough to be a menace with it. After being knocked flat countless times because she’d underestimated his speed and agility, she’d realized her wings offered her the only solution to the problem. In the air, he could never be certain which way she would move and, unlike her brothers, he couldn’t follow her there.


The sword cut the air under her feet and she back-flipped to land, knees slightly bent and glaive at the ready. Rowan took a step back, his blade already set for the next pass.


“Very nice,” he said in a mild tone that made her wonder if it were a compliment or a warning. “I was wondering when you’d remember you had them.”


“I was trying to fight fair,” she panted, keeping her stance. She never knew when he’d move and she had to be ready for him. “After all, you can’t do the same.”


“Never fight fair,” he chided, twirling the big sword as if it weighed nothing. “Your enemy isn’t going to.”


With that he was on her and she was forced to give ground or suffer bruises.


She’d realized the first time she’d sparred with him that he pulled his punches. Not that he gave any leeway on technique; he simply didn’t use his full strength on her. The man was powerful enough to cut her in two, but the thought of leaving a mark on her horrified him. Bumps and bruises were part of training. She knew that all too well from training with her brothers, but she had the feeling Rowan would take to heart every mark on her skin so she kept her bruises hidden and said nothing. 


After all, she hadn’t told him her plan yet and she needed him willing to listen and that meant proving her strength and resiliency. He had to think of her as an equal partner.


The three week restriction on dancing was nearly up. During that time, she’d sparred with him during the day, spending the early evenings by the bonfire. Conversation was sporadic at best but he had relaxed a bit in her presence and was more willing to talk about his life before the Time King. The things he spoke of didn’t always make sense to her but she accepted them. Through it all, she had offered only one plan and he’d promptly shredded it. She wasn’t going to give him a chance to think too long this time. What she would be asking of him would be more than what she could consider fair.


The flat side of the blade knocked her sprawling and the air rushed from her lungs in a pained wheeze. That’s what she got for not paying attention, she thought, dazed, staring up at the pristine arch of blue overhead.


“Aislinn?” Rowan dropped to his knees beside her, his expression morphing from concentration to concern. “Are you all right?”


She managed to drag air into her lungs and allowed him to help her sit. Holding her side, she leaned her head into the curve of his shoulder and tried to regain the ability to breathe without gasping.


He went utterly still under her touch. For a moment, she wondered if he were still breathing then a big hand raised slowly to settle over her hair.


“Did I hurt you?” he insisted, his voice oddly quiet.


Still trying to get her breathing under control, Aislinn settled for a wave and then, in case he didn’t understand, patted his chest in reassurance. He dwarfed her as she leaned into his strength.


He didn’t move away. His fingers moved through her hair in a soothing caress and she relaxed into him, savoring the contact. Maybe if they didn’t talk, this truce would last more than a few minutes.


Rowan was the first to pull back — likely realizing she was milking it since her breathing had returned to normal. She couldn’t say the same about her heart rate but the man did funny things to her insides. His fingers remained tangled in her hair.


“Better?”


Gruff but not angry. She sighed and nodded.


“Just winded. I didn’t have my mind on sparring, I’m afraid.”


He nodded but didn’t take umbrage at her inattention. Instead, a faint smile quirked the corners of his mouth, capturing her gaze.


“So? When are you going to hit me with it?”


She blinked. “Hit you with what?”


“Your grand escape plan.”


Color rushed under her skin. “Oh.”


“Yes, oh.”


He leaned back on his heels, his hand falling away. For the briefest moment, she felt bereft but shook it off.


“What makes you think I have a grand plan?” She looked away, rubbing at the throbbing ache in her side and fiddling with the engravings along the shaft of the glaive. The rough chuckle jerked her gaze back to him.


Laughter glimmered in those golden eyes, a rare glimpse of humor from her normally snarly companion. An answering smile curved her mouth.


“I know when I’m being softened up,” he assured her. “That first idea of yours was too easy, just a shot across the bow to see what I’d do. No, you have something up your sleeve and I’m curious what you’ve come up with.”


He wasn’t going to like it. Aislinn looked away, her humor fading. There was no way to present to idea that would make him like it. She had wracked her brain for weeks trying to find a way.


“That bad, huh?”


“Yes,” she said simply and then sighed. Might as well get it over with. “I’ve been thinking about what you said, about the explosion causing the pond in Summer. I think what we need is a more powerful sort of explosion.”


He frowned. “How do you intend to create a bigger explosion? It took everything I could scrape together to get the reaction I did.”


“Not bigger. More powerful.” She took a deep breath. “I need to dance again.”


“You can’t release the power you gather when you dance,” he reminded her, still frowning. It wasn’t his usual glower for which she was grateful but a thoughtful expression. He was listening as he had promised he would.


“I can if I have a conduit.”


He jolted to his feet and stalked away. Aislinn’s heart sank. She’d known he wouldn’t like the idea. He had an aversion to magic that couldn’t quite be explained by his bad experience with the Time King. This felt far more personal and what she was asking of him was intimate in the truest sense of the word.


Rowan paced, his lips moving as he argued with himself, but he didn’t leave. Hope stirred. He wasn’t rejecting the idea outright which was what she’d expected, so she stayed where she was, waiting for him to come to a decision. He continued to pace and her hope faded. The longer it took him to decide, the more holes he would poke in her plan. She looked away.


To be honest, she had no other plan. Either she shattered the spell from the inside or she found a way to make him fall in love with her. A frontal attack was a far more certain proposition. The human heart was fickle and love ephemeral at best. She couldn’t capture it, couldn’t trap it. Only Rowan could decide to open his heart to her. No, a direct attack was best but, unfortunately, she couldn’t bring her best weapon to bear without his help.


“I’m not dancing with you,” he snapped.


He’d stopped pacing but remained feet away, his arms crossed and his glower back full force.


“I’m not asking you to,” she corrected. “In fact, I need you to not dance. Dancing with you would ground the power in you. I need to ground the power through you.”


He worked that over, his glower not getting any lighter and she sighed.


“I know what I’m asking of you, Rowan. Truly, I do. But if a physical explosion altered the reality of this place, a magical one directed at the bubble itself should weaken if not shatter the spell we’re trapped in. It’s our only chance.”


“It’s dangerous. It could kill you.”


“Not if you’re there with me. The faster the power is grounded, the less harm comes to me.”


“And if it doesn’t work?”


She lifted a shoulder, shaking her head. “Then you get to work up the next plan.”


He lifted a brow at her, his glower fading with surprise and she stifled a small smile.


“Did you really think I’d give up that easily?”


He looked away and she sighed, gathering her glaive and pushing to her feet.


“Just think on it, Rowan. Please?”


“Where do you think you’re going?”


The gruff question stopped her. She kept her eyes averted, fingers flexing on the glaive, not wanting to see the rejection in his face. If he refused to help, she didn’t know what else to do. Without him, she couldn’t bring any power to bear in this place.


“I’m sorry,” she muttered, miserable. “It wasn’t my intent to make you uncomfortable. I just want to be free.”


A light touch on her hair nearly stopped her heart. He moved closer, the heat of his body surrounding her.


“Why magic, Aislinn? Why not just a bigger physical explosion?”


Questions? She hadn’t expected questions. Turning, she looked up at him. His expression gave nothing away but there was no anger in his gaze. She sighed.


“A physical explosion altered the physical reality. But we’re not trapped physically. The bars on this cage are magical so a magical explosion might weaken or even destroy them if it’s big enough.”


“Or make them stronger,” he pointed out.


“Wrong kind of magic,” she countered. “We’re contained in time. Stretch the limits of what it can hold and it will break.”


“You’re saying we might have to do this more than once.”


She flinched from that. “It’s possible. If we try once and get results, yes, it makes sense to keep doing it. If nothing happens, I won’t ask you to try again.”


He studied her face, giving no hint of what he might be thinking.


“You put your wings away again.”


She blinked. So she had. What had that to do with anything they were talking about?


“I told you. It’s comfortable for me.”


“Then why don’t I believe you?” He leaned closer, his gaze sharpening. “I think you’re so used to hiding what you are, you do it without thinking.”


“Why do you care?”


“Open your wings.”


“Why?”


“Open them.”


He wasn’t going to give up. With a sigh, she flicked out her wings. His eyes moved from her face to her wings, something softening behind his eyes.


He liked her wings? The thought startled her. When had he started liking anything about her?


He reached out as if to touch them and hesitated. “Are they sensitive?”


“A little.”


“May I?”


He was asking? Unable to speak, she nodded.


His fingers brushed the upper curve of her wing. She shivered at the sensation and he went still.


“Hurt?”


“No.” She shook her head, her throat tight. “It tickles a little but it’s more that it’s rather personal to stand here and be petted.”


His lips twitched and he gave her wing another gentle stroke.


She couldn’t look away. All hint of humor faded from his expression as his fingers moved over the arch of one wing and then the other. Shivers chased her spine with an intensifying tingle as he repeated the motion.


“Why would you hide anything this pretty?” he whispered. Before her dazzled mind could come up with an answer, he stepped away.


“Get some rest,” he said abruptly. “I’ve got some thinking to do.”