by Kristen Pike
Jace pulled away from her, breathing heavy and Rowan blinked, swaying slightly where she stood, the length of her still firmly pressed against him.
“Jace?” She asked, not sure what her question even was. He did not speak, but he ran his thumb across her jaw and down her neck, along her collarbone, which was just visible through her shirt. It made her shiver, despite the warmth in the room. “Jace.” She breathed, her voice barely a murmur, completely giving way to him, wanting this, needing this, needing him.
Jace hooked his arms around her thighs, hoisting her up so she straddled his stomach, her face hovering just above his. It was no effort for him to carry her across the small room, she was tiny under her clothes. She looked at him with large, trusting eyes, blinking slowly.
Rowan breathed deeply as he gently laid her down on the bed. It was lumpy and the covers smelled liked dust, but she hardly noticed. Her vision filled with the sight of Jace above her, his body pushing hers onto the bed. He supported himself on one arm above her head. The other hand ran down her arm, making the small hairs there stick up, leaving a blaze where his skin connected with hers. He ran his hand along her stomach and rested it on her hip.
“Is this ok?” He asked, his voice strained. His body was tense, like a lion waiting to spring. Rowan did not trust herself to speak and only nodded.
Jace lowered his head, slowly, giving her time to pull away. Rowan lay completely still beneath him, her chest rising and falling with each labored breath. Her pulse beat frantically in her ears, drowning out all other sounds. Her eyes fluttered closed, her lashes long and dark against her pale skin.
When their lips met, it was like fire, scorching her skin and making the world explode in a thousand different ways. She grasped Jace’s shirt, desperate to bring him closer. He pushed into her, making her body tingle. He grabbed her thigh and pulled her leg up so it curved along his back. He ran his hand back up over her thigh, causing Rowan to arch her back.
They were feverish, their bodies burning and aching for the others. Their hands never stayed still, Rowan skimmed hers over his back and when that was not enough, she delved under his shirt, his skin smooth and hot under her fingers. He trailed fire across her stomach, along her neck, down her arms.
His lip cupped hers, his tongue hesitantly licking her bottom lip, she moaned, the sound lost in her throat. They felt urgent to taste each other while they still had time, as if it would be stolen from them, come first light.
Rowan tugged at the hem of Jace’s shirt. He lifted himself off her, her body suddenly freezing in the absence. She jerked the shirt over his head, her hand skimming his chest and Jace gasped as their lips smashed into each other’s again. Rowan pressed her palm to his back, her heart racing and she thought it might burst from her chest.
“Rowan! Rowan! Jace!” A voice yelled to them from outside the door, their fist pounding on the wood. “Rowan!” They called again urgently. Jace looked at the door, his face blank. He didn’t remove himself from over her.
“WHAT?” Jace barked, his voice an octave lower than normal.
“Rowans brother, he’s back!” The voice responded, their words sloshing together. Rowan tried to sit up, only to crash into Jace’s chest. He looked down at her confused, as if she had turned into someone else, or had turned green. He reluctantly hauled himself off her, sitting at the edge of the bed, scanning the floor for his shirt.
Rowan sat up, running a hand through her disheveled hair, blushing as though whoever was outside the door would know what was going on in the room and chastise her. After all, Jace was not her husband and proper young women did not lie with proper young men outside of matrimony. Am I even a proper young woman anymore? Rowan asked herself, dismayed to find she could not be sure of the answer anymore; she did not even wear dresses any longer, abandoning the thick cumbersome clothes for lightweight men’s wear some months ago.
Rowan rubbed her palms over her face as if trying to scrub away the feeling of Jace’s lips on hers. But her lips still tingled, still burned, imprinted forever with the feel of his lips on hers, and she wished for nothing more than for whoever it was outside the door to go away and leave her alone with Jace once more. Who cares if my brother is in the town? Well she did, but her head was foggy and she had a hard time focusing on that.
“Rowan?” The voice called again, uncertain of the silence from the room.
“Coming.” She said tensely. With a last look at Jace, disappointment filling her to find he had found his shirt and put it back on, she lugged herself from the bed with a sigh.
When the door creaked open she found Pickard, who’s eyes darted from her to Jace, who stood somewhere behind her, probably glaring daggers into Pickard. “Your brother, Rowan,” he stated again, looking flushed, wobbling slightly where he stood. He is utterly intoxicated! Rowan realized and took a step back as though Pickard could project his drunken state onto her.
“Where?” Rowan asked, breathing deeply to try to calm her pounding heart.
“No one’s has seen him, but a boy come to the inn just a while ago. He said your brother has requested your presence. Tonight.” Pickard smiled as though what he had just said were some kind of joke and the stench of ale hit Rowan like a fist and she took another step back.
“Where can I find him?” Rowan asked, growing impatient.
“The boy said he is staying at a house, a few miles from here.” Pickard answered hastily.
“Please go ask the inn keep for a horse to borrow.” She said to Pickard. “Please make sure it is saddled, and ready to ride. I will be down shortly.”
Pickard looked taken aback, as if her request was absurd, his face screwing up in a scowl. “But Rowan-“
“Please. Pickard.” She looked at him and he turned away, knowing there would be no arguing with her. Not with that steely look in her eyes. Rowan shut the door once he had staggered around a corner.
“You cannot mean to go to him at this hour!” Jace asked her, incredulous.
“I do intend to go to him at this hour. If my brother is here, I must see him. I must know why-” Rowan broke off, her words falling from her tongue in a plea and she willed Jace to understand. If she didn’t face Elias now, when the courage boiled inside her, she likely never would.
“Rowan, it is pitch black outside,” Jace shook his head, his green eyes dark, “You’re as likely to fall and break your neck, as you are to get lost.” He shook his head again, his lips a thin line as he scowled at her. “I just want you to be safe.” He said softly, coming toward her.
Rowan, exhaled, her willpower leaving her as he took her in his arms. “I will be Jace, my brother would not harm me.” She was convinced of this truth. No matter the horrible things people had said about Elias, she knew that with everything in her, her brother would never lift a finger against her, not intentionally. “I will be safe.” She said confidently.
“Let me come with you.” Jace replied, his voice edged with concern, it dripped from his mouth, it solidified his body, it made his eyes shine and it all only made Rowan feel guilty.
“This is something I must do on my own. And while I know Elias wouldn’t harm me, I’m not sure what he would do to someone with me, it’s safer if you stay.”
“I don’t care about my safety, I care about yours!”
“Jace please, I’m asking you to let me go.”
Jace’s arms tightened around her as though to keep her there by force, but a moment later he loosened his grip, stepping away from her. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but closed it quickly and looked away.
“Jace-“ Rowan started, trying to reassure him that everything would be fine.
“It’s ok Rowan, you don’t need to say anything. I know this is something you must do and I’d only be a fool to try and stop you.” Jace still wouldn’t look at her. She floundered for the right words but her mind was blank. Rowan turned from him, opening the door and closing it behind her as she stepped into the dark hall.
Jace stood
in the room, staring at the door for a good while before cursing himself and flinging it open. He ran after Rowan, desperate to catch her. He stumbled down the stairs, taking those two, three, at a time. He nearly ran into a maid as he vaulted out the door, the cool night air prickling his eyes.
The sound of horse hooves beat in the distance and no matter how fast Jace ran he knew he could not catch her. He flung himself back in the inn, anxiety clawing in his chest like an angry animal. “Inn keep,” Jace called desperately, “I need another horse.” He pleaded, his voice catching on the last word.
“Nah, sir. I shan’t let my other horse be out, sorry.” She did look sorry and he turned away from her, rejecting her pity. He couldn’t say why he needed to stop Rowan so badly, only felt the fear in him, stirring around his chest, gripping his heart, squeezing his heart, stopping his heart until he couldn’t breath, couldn’t think, couldn’t live with this crushing anxiety drowning him in waves so forceful it was a wonder he managed to stay on his feet. As the hoof beats disappeared, he felt a terrible sadness, a devastating grief, as though Rowan was now lost to him forever.
Jace ran to Pickard’s room, not even bothering to knock on the solid wood door before bursting into it. The door flung open, crashing into the wall behind it and causing the room to shudder angrily.
“Pickard!” Jace shouted, scanning the room for the man. Jace found him face down on the other side of the bed from him, lodged between the wall and the small bed. Jace pushed the bed away from Pickard, the legs squeaking in protest as it slid across the floor. “Pickard!” Jace yelled, trying to wake the man.
Pickard lay unmoving on the floor, his chest rising and falling evenly. He pants were bunched around his knees as if he had tried to take them off but had given up halfway through. One shoe was on but the other was missing, his one visible sock was nearly black on the bottom and emitting a foul smell.
“Pickard, wake up, you must tell me where Rowan has gone!” Jace said hefting Pickard onto his side. Drool slipped from Pickard’s mouth, running down his cheek and pooling under him. “Pickard!” Jace shouted, shaking Pickard’s shoulder violently. “PICKARD!”
Pickard snorted, but didn’t wake. Jace grunted angrily, leaving Pickard’s room and stomping back outside the inn.
“Where did you go Rowan? Where are you?” Jace asked the silent night desperately frantically anxiously, rubbing his palms together to stave off the chill that had sprung up. “I’ll find you, even if it takes me all night.” Jace vowed and began walking, his thoughts tumultuous.
SEVENTEEN
Rowan was tense as she creeped her way through the night. Each hoof beat bringing her closer to her reunion with her brother. She had gotten simple directions from Pickard as to the house her brother was staying in and she eyed the houses on either side of her now, looking for the one he had specified.
Rowan was looking for a large house at the end of Clementine road due north east of the inn, with thick dark bushes on either side of an expansive porch. A large tree would be growing on the side. Those were her only directions.
Rowan squinted, trying to differentiate between the houses, the moonlight doing little to help her in her search. “Elias?” She called, with very little hope that he would answer.
Rowan heard footsteps behind her but when she turned in her saddle, she found no one there. She chastised herself for acting like a frightened child in the night. She straightened her back, holding her head high despite wanting to shrink in on herself, turn her horse around, and go cowardly back to the warmth of the inn.
Rowan spied a large tree just ahead of her, perching beside the shadow of a massive house. Three stories tall, it dominated the other houses on the quite street. Rowan knew, without any doubt, that this was where her brother was. A single light shone through a window on the second floor. Rowan spurred her horse faster, eager to be rid of the darkness surrounding her.
Rowan felt uneasy as the horse trotted up to the walkway. After all the stories I have heard about Elias I expected an army of guards to be posted outside the house. Or at least the dead bodies of the previous owners. But she found neither of those, the front of the house standing silent and abandoned before her. Rowan swung her leg over the horse, dropping to the ground with a soft thump.
I wish I’d never come at all, Rowan found herself thinking, then felt guilty for thinking it, Elias was her brother after all.
Rowan heard shuffling behind her and she whipped around, peering into the still night. She thought she saw a shadow move, that one right by the tree, but the longer she stared the longer it only seemed like the branches of the tree. Sweat began beading on her forehead, her brow furrowed and she took a deep breath to steady herself. She walked up the three steps to the porch, and knocked on the door.
Nothing happened.
She knocked again and an owl hooted in the distance in reply. Rowan breathed deeply and considered turning around. Surely, Elias will still be here in the morning, but a second later she scolded herself for being a coward. She took another deep breath and tried the knob, it squeaked with rust and disuse as she turned the handle. Rowan pushed the door open and a black darker than the night spread out from the home, like sticky fingers trying to draw her in. “Elias?” She called again, hesitant to enter the abyss. Rowan breathed deeply, standing on the threshold. She took a step in, then another.
Rowan stood in the entry way, though she couldn’t see it. She knew the light she had seen that had led her to the house was to her right. Rowan stuck her hands out, fumbling for a wall in her blindness. She moved slowly and it seemed to her that she did not move at all, but in no time her hand brushed coarse wood and she pressed her palm to it, breathing out air she had not realized she was holding.
She felt along the wall until her hand touched air and she assumed this was an opening into another room. She stepped through the open space, her heart hammering as though there might not be floor beneath her where she would place her foot and she would stumble down into the earth, falling forever, searching for her brother until the ends of time, her existence stretching out before her as a black void, a never ending nothing, falling endlessly, limitlessly, infinitely.
“Elias?” Rowan called out again, her voice echoing back at her. She sounded frightened and the further she trudged into the house, the more she knew that he was not there at all, but she refused to turn back until she had searched every room of the house.
Rowan whirled around, flattening herself against a wall as the front door slammed shut somewhere behind her in the house. Her breath came out in sharp puffs as she tried to silence it. Her eyes zipped around the darkness, trying, and failing, to make out a shape. She heard footsteps but could not say where they came from, to her right maybe, or right in front of her perhaps.
Rowan wished Jace were with her. He would make a joke and she would laugh, someone would light a lantern and it would only be Pickard playing a mean prank. But Jace wasn’t here and she knew Pickard had drank heavily at the inn and was likely passed out drunk by now. “Elias?” Rowan whispered, already knowing Elias had likely never stepped foot in this house. Besides, he was never one for teasing, or scaring her, saying they were mean, childish things.
Rowan took a step forward. If I could only make it back to the door, I could ride away and never have to look at this house again. She heard a scraping noise and crushed herself back to the wall, willing herself to be smaller. She crouched, her eyes frantic as they searched the black around her.
She listened to the sound of her pounding heart and squeezed her eyes shut, counting backwards from 100 as Elias had told her to do when she was younger, when she was truly frightened. He would tell her to focus on the numbers and by the time she got to zero, everything would be ok.
99, Rowan thought, 98… 97… 96… She heard the scraping sound again and she knew it was closer, circling around her. Searching. 95… 94… 93… There was a footstep, just to her left. Rowan grew panicked, dragging air in and out of her lungs, demandi
ng her heart to slow down. 92… 91… 90… 89… She could feel a presence around her, a deeper blackness than just normal shadows. She couldn’t say where it was exactly, only knew that it had found her, the footsteps growing sure, confident. She was trapped. She was petrified. 88… 87… 86…
Rowan bolted to her feet, trying to run as fast as she could back in the general direction she had come. She got three steps before a hand clamped around her wrist. It was strong and she cried out in pain, trying to tug her hand free. She slipped, falling to the floor on her side, dragging her attacker with her.
She kicked hard in the direction she thought they might be, satisfaction flickering in her as they ‘humphed’ in pain, releasing her wrist just slightly enough for her to pull it free, and she was running again. She stumbled into several walls before feeling the rough wood of the door. She threw it open, the moon illuminating her terrified, wild eyes. Rowan hurried onto the porch, looking frantically for her horse, but it was nowhere to be seen.
Rowan dashed down the steps, only to be hurled backwards by her attacker, his arm wrapping around her waist and flinging her backwards. She struck the hard wood porch on her back, sending splinters of pain shooting up her spine. She tried scrambling to her feet, but a heavy shoed foot came crashing into her side, sending her sprawling on her stomach. Rowan wheezed and tried rolling over, only to fall again as the agony from her side shot up into her chest.