Rowan's Reign

The rain fell heavily upon her shoulders as she scrambled through the dense forest that bordered the city of Sol. The ink black night, precipitation, and tears left Rowan nearly blind, and that meant vulnerable. Upon realizing this, she slowed her pace and not daring to stop, wiped her eyes, evaluating her situation.

The day had begun the same as any other starting with Rowan waking early for training. Everyday she studied the ways of combat under her father’s thane. As the sole heiress to the country of Sifor, she was expected to preserve the royal bloodline. Rowan ignored the taboo of women fighters and enjoyed these training sessions that allowed her to compete with others. As the only daughter to the crown she had been raised without any opportunity to challenge herself, being given anything she wanted and surrounded by servants waiting for orders. Rowan was aware of the blessed life she’d been given and yet she often longed to live a less luxurious life, free of the many expectations placed upon her as a princess.

After a grueling day of swordplay, archery and dagger wielding, Rowan staggered toward the heart of Sol: her home. The castle had been built on a sloping hill giving it an edge over any army foolish enough to attack. As the shelter of the royal family it was the safest place in the city, as well as the most beautiful. Even the home of the wealthiest noble paled in comparison. The walls reflected the color of a setting sun and were decoratively filled with stained windows that depicted the long history of Sifor. Walking through those hallways all her life meant Rowan was able to recall any of the pictures with clarity and it never failed to calm her. Knowing that despite any hardship the country faced, it had endured under her family’s noble rule. This gave her some hope that she too would be able to lead Sifor through an age of peace as her parents had. The last time Sifor had dealt with any real threat was during her grandfather’s rule. The neighboring country Argos was a small desert ravaged by yearly sand storms and droughts. Seeking new lands to live off, the leaders of Argos had sent a small army to capture small cities on the outskirts of Sifor. Once Rowan’s grandfather had learned of this he’d declared war on Argos and, to no one’s surprise, was victorious. Despite the violence Argos had displayed, they were spared severe punishment out of pity for their poor circumstances. To Rowan’s understanding, Argos still suffered through the same torments meaning they may very well attack in desperation as they did in the past. Another reason she strove to strengthen herself physically and mentally. Rowan was destined to lead her people and she was determined to give them a leader that wouldn’t be defeated easily.

Once she entered the grounds of the castle she hurried to her private chambers to clean her body of the dirt and sweat the day’s hard work had brought. She was to attend dinner alongside her parents and represent Sol as they dined with an emissary from one of Sifor’s larger cities, Braydel. Rowan knew she was expected to appear her best for the honored guest, but she did not find pleasure in dressing up and all the, what seemed unnecessary to her, work that came with it. Rowan thought the time that was consumed by it could be better spent doing something more productive.

Despite her reproach towards altering her appearance she did not want to be met with disapproval from her parents. So she turned to the vanity mirror that had been passed down to each daughter of the ruling bloodline. The person staring back had a small build, a trait she wished she hadn’t received from her mother. Being physically inferior had made equaling not only men, but also anyone in combat an even more challenging task than it already was. Although she did not like this trait it did make her victories that much more rewarding. Not all the physical traits she had received burdened her so. She had her mother’s full rosy cheeks, fair skin, soft pink lips, and big round eyes with long eyelashes all of which created an innocent child like appearance. Rowan found that with her looks she was able to charm her way out of all the trouble she found herself in. This would prove valuable when she will need to be a leader to her people.

The only hint of her father she saw was the wavy red locks that fell down her back, and the light brown eyes that emitted bravery and confidence. They had more interests in common than physical similarities. They both loved expanding their knowledge of the world; Rowan could recall a horde of memories which involved her father reading her bed time stories, his charismatic voice whisking her into dreams of adventure, love, and peace. They both also adored the outdoors and had spent many days exploring the city and the forest that surrounded it. She knew that these treasured memories were a reason she didn’t fit in with other women. She had more in common with the average man than she did with other girls her age. Deep down Rowan wished she’d been born the son she knew her father wanted. She tried her best to play the role of a son, but as she grew up she was weighed down more and more each day with the tasks required of a princess.

Once she had adorned herself in an appropriate gown and restrained her rambunctious hair as much as she could, Rowan set out to meet her parents who would be in the dining hall by now. She had wasted too much time thinking and was running late. Deciding to take a short cut she had discovered as a child, Rowan hustled through the garden her mother had tended and the home of her namesake the rowan tree. Her mother was a timid woman, preferring to surround herself with nature than people. Growing up Rowan’s mother often told the tale of her name’s origin. The queen wished for her daughter to have strong roots in her nobility but to also branch out and reach others no matter what caste they were. Rowan had strove to fulfill her mother’s wish. She did not judge others by their social class but by whom they were as an individual. As she ran by, Rowan noticed that the tree was starting to shed its red leaves and the red berries were starting to wither. Winter was quickly approaching and the tree was readying for its season of slumber.

Rain clouds were beginning to form as twilight began to take the sky. Rowan barely made it underneath the balcony leading to the dining hall when the heavens unleashed their tears. Looking back at the garden she saw the plants drinking their fill and the tree soaking in one last feast before its long repose. As she entered the dinning hall she saw her parents already in their seats talking with each other. The sight warmed Rowan’s heart and she felt herself smiling. Her parents shared an incredibly strong love that was not often seen. Rowan knew that one day she would be expected to marry and she could only hope for the kind of love they had.

Rowan was about to greet them before she caught glimpse of something that raised the hairs on the back of her neck. Her parents were facing her and from the corridor behind them emerged a hulking figure shadowed by the dark hallway. Slowly the man emerged from the shadows and she recognized him as the emissary that was to dine with them. What chilled her was the blade dripping with blood that he carried with familiarity. Who the blood belonged to she wasn’t sure, probably the one of the guards’, but she knew whose would be targeted next. Rowan opened her mouth to scream but no sound came, her parents spotted her and ushered her over completely unaware of the danger they were in. She found her voice and screamed, “Behind you!” But it was too late, the emissary was behind her parents the moment she alerted his presence. With two swift stroke of his dagger the man slit her father’s throat and then her mother’s. As tears began to blur Rowan’s vision she felt a sharp pain inside her.

As she readied to lurch towards the treacherous man she felt a hand clamp around her mouth and another around her torso, restraining her from drawing her hidden blade. Whoever was constricting her pulled her out of the dining hall and toward the door she’d entered through only moments ago. She was released and whirled around with her blade drawn to a familiar face. It was the sun-withered face of her father’s closest friend and head of the royal guard, Galahad. He motioned to her to be quiet and started through the door. As they exited the castle he grabbed her hand and dragged her toward her mother’s garden. She felt too numb and exhausted to resist his grip. Positioning them out of sight behind the tree, Galahad tightened his grip causing her to snap out of her daze and meet his piercing blue eyes.

“I don’t have time to tell you everything but I’ll give you what you need.” Galahad looked behind him as the sound of a door opening disturbed the rhythmic pitter of raindrops. Her parents’ killer was slowly approaching the rowan tree where they were hiding. With each step he took Galahad’s voice sped up. “Braydel has turned on Sifor and aligned itself with Argos in hopes of gaining more resources and territory. They set up the meeting with your family in hopes of eliminating you all so they would have no organized resistance.” The traitor was only a few meters away now. “You are the last of the royal family and must escape alive if we are to have any hope of revenge against these bastards and saving Sifor! Rowan I cannot not guide you in where you go or what you do, all I can do is give you the opportunity to survive.” As Galahad finished his last words he turned and unsheathed his sword as the assassin arrived at the tree. “Run now Rowan!” She knew what he was doing and she despised it, he was about to throw his life away for her to run like a coward. Galahad had once been an undefeatable warrior but time had ravaged his body, left him old and lacking in strength. Rowan hated it but knew she had to respect his final wish, not just for his sake, but for her parents as well, in hope of fighting another day. Her adrenaline had allowed her to push her weary limbs to their limit. She barreled into the ancient forest as fast as her legs would allow her.

And now here she was miles from where she’d abandoned her home and subjects with no plan or hope. Looking back at what had happened, Rowan saw so many things she could have done differently that might have prevented her parents’ fate. If only I hadn’t been late, if I hadn’t let Galahad stop me from ripping that murder’s throat out, if only “Stop it!!!!!” She bellowed startling some near by birds taking shelter from the rain. She had to think of a plan, not mope about what could have been. But she was too weak to do much more than stay on her feet. The rain suddenly let up and with its absence she could hear the flow of water. It had to be the river that she and her father had explored in past days. If Rowan remembered correctly there was a small traveler’s inn in the area along the river. If she could find it and gather her strength then she’d be able to plan for her revenge. She’d need to spread word that Sifor hadn’t been taken by traitors and invaders, and that the royal bloodline lived. And with that determined vow made, Rowan’s eyelids met and she felt herself hit the mud slick ground with a soft thud.

As Farren made his way through the trail toward the inn, he took in the beautiful view. The area surrounding Sol was breath taking and with the rain past the air was crisp and fresh. Farren had been traveling through the country of Sifor for months now, and each new place he visited only reconfirmed his belief that he’d made the right decision in leaving the comfort of his home. Born the oldest son of the wealthiest merchant in his small village of Hayeot, Farren had grown up in the limelight wither he liked it or not. He resented his father’s insistence that one day he would take over the family business. Farren was not interested in tricking naïve customers into buying over priced goods. What he had desired to spend his life doing was explore the lands of his homeland and make a difference with his own name and abilities. He sometimes dreamt of leaving a legacy such as slaying raiders or discovering something of great value. Even though Farren knew his friends and brothers would mock him for being a “romantic” he’d insisted on leaving his wealth and setting out on his own.

As the sun started to rise Farren saw an inn in the far distance much to his relief. It had been many weeks since he’d last had a bed to sleep on and warm food to fill his aching stomach. Ducking his head from a branch that would have clawed at his face, a downfall to being tall, Farren looked down a few yards ahead and spotted what he thought to be a shoe. A young girl’s shoe if the make and size was any indicator. Why would a child be out in the wilderness? Maybe she was lost or injured. With thoughts of this nature Farren glanced around in search of any more clues. He was rewarded with a high quality hairpin lying farther down the trail toward the inn. She must have gone there.

Farren continued toward his destination eager to reunite the girl with her lost items. As the dense forest cleared, one of his feet caught on something causing him to stumble forward. Farren’s tuned body was able to react quickly enough to keep him from falling down. He turned around curious of what had grabbed hold of him. His curiosity turned into bewilderment as he lay his eyes upon a most beautiful women. Her fiery red hair was clumped with dirt and her pale face was smeared with blood and covered in cuts. He immediately checked to see if she’d sustained any severe injuries and was relieved to find that the worst she had endured was a sprained ankle. He identified her as the owner of the shoe once he saw her petite toes.

The woman was indeed as small as he’d expected to find but she was not a child as he’d thought. She couldn’t have been more than two or three years younger than him. Bending down to scoop her off the ground was more difficult than he thought possible. The voluptuous dress she wore was surprisingly heavy and an indicator that she was of noble upbringing. This observation only increased his curiosity of who she was. Once he had her secured Farren hastily carried her toward the traveler’s inn not wanting to prolong the discomfort she was obviously enduring.

Rowan’s eyes fluttered open to see a roof over her head and felt a soft comforter over her aching body. Where am I? Then she remembered everything, her parents, Galahad, the forest, and lastly losing conscious. Then she realized she was being watched. She sat up quickly, too quickly as a wave of vertigo washed over, leaving her feeling dizzy.

“Careful, you’ve been asleep for quite awhile. Best if you take it easy. “The words belonged to an allaying male voice. Rowan turned her attention from the direction it had come from and found herself looking at a man who looked to be in his early twenties staring back at her. He was tall and sturdy built, with tanned skinned and dark brown hair that fell over his forest green eyes. She had never seen such an alluring man before. But she knew that such men often used their looks to trick naïve women. Determined to not fall prey to the handsome stranger she frowned at him and using the sternness voice she could muster and said, “Where am I?” She did not bother to ask him his identity in fear that he’d take it as a hint that she was interested in him. Which you aren’t of course, she scolded herself.

“After I found you in the woods I brought you to this inn. You’ve been asleep for two days, whatever you were up to sure wiped you out.” Rowan could detect concern in his voice, and it made her suspicious. Why would a total stranger be concerned for her well being? She tried to discover his intent by asking, “Why are you still here? Surely whoever runs this inn could have watch over me.”

His response caught her off guard. “I was curious,” he got up from his seat and approached her bed, “Why a young lady was alone in the forest crying in her sleep.” Rowan’s hand shot up to her eyelids and knew he spoke the truth. Her lids were swollen and most likely red, Rowan knew this was not a flattering state to be seen in. For them to still be swollen after two days meant that since he’d found her, she had continually wept. Rowan felt her cheeks grow red and turned her head to hide her embarrassment. She felt his hand grab her chin forcing her to face him. Their eyes met and a silence fell in the room. Being face to face allowed Rowan to fully grasp the man’s enticing features. His green eyes were full of rebellion and stubbornness, his mouth lined from smiling and his lips thin and smooth. Rowan felt the heat in her cheeks intensify and broke the contact by lying back on the bed and giving him what he wanted. “My parents were murdered before my eyes, isn’t crying a normal reaction to such trauma?” Speaking about her parents hurt but perhaps the revelation would cause the man to back off.

He flinched at her statement, and his eyes darkened as he spoke, “I am sorry to hear that, I have also witnessed the death of a parent and understand the grief you are living with.” Now it was Rowan’s turn to cringe, she had not meant to establish a connection between them. She was running out of ideas and after seeing the determination he showed to stay she sighed and said, “I apologize for making you uncomfortable but do you plan on leaving me alone?”

The man laughed, the light in his eyes returning and stated, “ I am traveling by myself and have all the time in the world. Why not help a damsel in distress?” Then he exited the room leaving her to return to the embrace of sleep.

As soon as the girl, whose name he had not yet learned, awoke Farren had immediately been impressed. She was strong, independent, and smart, all qualities that most women lacked. Not to mention her natural beauty, growing up he’d been surrounded by women hiding behind painted faces. Not this girl, she was genuine. He couldn’t deny his attraction toward her. The only problem was her thorns; she was obviously inexperienced in dealing with men. Farren was used shallow women flocking around him, vainly hoping to marry into wealth. It was welcome change to meet a girl not obsessed with appearances. Another issue was his suspicions of her bloodline, if she was nobility than she’d prove to be unattainable. His father may have influence and power but even money could not bring the family noble blood. Only the royal family had the power to deem someone nobility. Also the recent death of her parents would cause her to lack trust in others, if they had been murdered.

As he ate the breakfast he’d been served, Farren listened to the owners of the inn as they chattered. “Did you read the letter sent from the castle this morning?” Asked the innkeeper who was cleaning dishes. His wife’s reply was, “ Yes I did, and it was bizarre wasn’t it? I can’t believe the princess ran away. I’ve never heard of any internal conflicts among the royal family before. I wonder why she would just leave with no reason.”

Farren was surprised to hear the subject of their discussion. His father had told him tales of his visits to the city of Sol. The ruling family often held hearings allowing citizens to place requests or plea for a cause. His father had attended one of these events during one of his visits and that was when he saw the rulers of Sifor. He described the king as a worthy ruler, carrying himself with undeniable confidence and determination that had led his country through an era of peace. The queen was equally impressive, although it was more subtle, walking with hidden grace and a face of perfection. The result of their joining was a petite daughter, at the time a mere decade old, with wild red hair and laughter that warmed the hearts of all who heard. She had fondly held her mothers hand, skipping to keep pace with her parents’ long strides. When his father described the family to Farren as a young boy, he’d felt jealousy, wishing his family had such fondness for each other. After the death of his mother, Farren’s father became engrossed in his work, showing less and less affection towards his sons over the years. The memories of taking care of his younger brothers as a child himself still left Farren feeling stung.

Shaking away lingering bitterness he said out loud,” Can I see this letter?” The hostess obliged by reaching under the bar counter and handing him a folded letter wrinkled from examination. As Farren unfolded it he was bewildered to see a portrait of the princess with the inked words wanted underneath. The image depicted a girl with flaming red hair and the same chocolate eyes he had gazed into only moments before. The realization caused Farren to glance back toward the staircase leading to the room the girl was resting in. Had he really stumbled upon his future queen? She’d said her parents were killed, meaning the king and queen. If they were really dead than who sent out the notice? The letter gave no reason for her disappearance, a sign that more was going on than a mere run away. In hope of getting a clearer grasp on the situation he asked the couple his greatest inquiry. “What will happen to her if she’s caught?”

After a moment of thought the inn keeper responded with,” She will probably be under tight restrictions, constantly being watched and grounded to stay within castle walls. I don’t believe Princess Rowan would be physically punished, although from what I hear, she’d prefer that then releasing what freedom she had.”

He was right, Farren thought as he recalled the willful tone Rowan had used while addressing him. She had the aura of a raptor, who ruled the sky and tore apart any who opposed her. To bind her to one place would be to cage a Falconet. The smallest bird of prey at six inches they were capable of quick flight and feasted upon other small birds. The comparison made him grin despite the circumstances; it was one of the many things about her that he’d already taken a liking to. Her tiny body contained so much spirit and courage. The sound of floorboards creaking brought his focus to the ceiling, Rowan was stirring.

The creaking followed her weight as Rowan entered the washroom. The small mirror resting on the wooden table showed her tear streaked face and unruly hair. Taking the large bucket of water resting under the table she hooked it onto the bar hanging above the small chimney occupying the far wall. After starting a small fire to heat the water, Rowan took a seat on the nearby stool and eavesdropped on the conversation that was taking place downstairs. The voices had awoken her, slithering through the cracks between the wooden planks that served as the floor. At first she had been enraged to hear that someone was impersonating her parents. Obviously those who’d plotted their death had come prepared. They’d left no witness, other than herself, hoping to take control of the city before their true identities were revealed. In doing so they would be capable of putting out any resistance. Rowan’s only hope was that they hadn’t brought many people with them in order to avoid drawing attention. It was obvious that it was not yet common knowledge that her parents had met their death.. If she could sneak back into the castle Rowan knew she’d be able to extract revenge before Sifor’s inhabitants realized the truth. In doing so she could claim her right as Sifor’s rightful ruler without any innocent blood spilt. The question was how she’d return to Sol undetected.

The bubbles beginning to form in the water indicated that it was quickly rising in temperature. Rowan pulled it away from the chimney before it became to hot to bath in, then doused the fire and poured the water into the small tub sitting in the corner. Rowan felt her body throb as she wrestled off the dress she had been wearing, the tender soreness was the result of her flight from the castle. A frown formed upon her delicate features as she considered fighting in this condition. Her speed would be reduced and her flexibility would be restrained. She came to the conclusion that she would have to fully recover before her thirst for revenge was quenched, she wouldn’t risk failure because of a handicap that was easy enough to expel.

Easing her dainty body into the tub, Rowan felt the tension in her body dissolve in the warm water. She distanced her mind from the noise downstairs and occupied it by forming a list of tasks she’d need in order to reclaim the throne. The first thing she would need was equipment. Her escape had not allowed her to leave with any weapons other than her concealed knife. She also needed armor to assure her survival. The solution she found fit to solve these issues was to visit a smith. She would also need a disguise in order to penetrate Sol’s security, which was sure to be full of spies from Argos and Braydel. If she could fulfill these requirements she would be ready.

After washing her hair and body, Rowan slid on the simple dress that had been hanging on a towel rack. The hostess, a gesture Rowan appreciated, most likely had placed it there. She rather not run around in the same tattered cloths. Rowan quickly brushed her hair out of her face into a neat bun. Then she slid on the pair of sturdy work boots that sat near the doorway. As she glanced around the room she spotted what appeared a waste bin. Bundling up what was left of her gown and shoes she tossed them toward the bin. She was satisfied to see that she’d hit her mark as the clothes sank into the depths of the container. Now all that was left to do was head downstairs.

As she descended down the stairs Farren was amazed to see Rowan’s appearance was more striking than the last he’d seen her. Clothed in a simple garb too large for her caused Rowan’s frame to appear even smaller than usual. Her rosy hair was lock in a bun revealing her face in full force. Her strong features clean of mud mirrored those of the wanted poster. The inn’s keepers must have realized this, for Farren heard gasps escape their lips. As Rowan settled onto the dinning rooms floor she cast a glance at the open letter lying on Farren’s table. Walking with a practiced gait she reached the table and snatched the letter. Farren watched as her tawny eyes traced the letters contents. Her eyes betrayed no surprise as she crumpled the letter and spoke in a flat voice.

“I am sorry that if I have caused you any trouble by staying here. I will be taking my leave but before I do,” Rowan turned her gaze toward the husband and wife,” I would be grateful if you could answer a few questions. I have never wandered far from Sol’s borders so I do not know its surrounding areas well. I need to find the nearest town that has a respectable blacksmith.”

There was a long silenced that followed her request. Finally the wife answered in nervous tone,” Anything your highness desires. My older brother is the blacksmith in the town of Amell. It is only a day’s walk from her if you follow the trail that hugs the river.” She did not ask any details concerning the Princess’ presence; she simply bowed her head, as did her husband. As their heads rose Farren noticed a slight smile play upon Rowans lips. The simple gesture caused Farren to feel a twinge of yearning in his chest. He saw what he suspected was a sliver of the real Rowan. A warm, openhearted girl. Not the suspicious, tense girl he’d stumbled upon. She suddenly turned toward him, catching him off guard.

“Thank you for bringing me here and waiting for my wake.” As soon as the acknowledgement left her mouth she exited the inn, her small figure disappearing in the sun’s bright rays.

Rowan gazed up at the luminous sky letting the sun warm her body. She positioned herself on the path leading to Amell and tried to forget. She denied herself the chance to glance back at the inn. She was grateful to the man who’d saved her but this was the last she would see him. Focusing her attention on the trail Rowan found the creeks natural beauty soothing. As the hours past she spent her time examining the flowers prospering on it edges and the many creatures that resided underneath its transparent surface. Once the sky’s hue turned peach, Rowan felt as though she were being watched. It was possible that the eyes following her were harmless travelers, but she knew better than to assume safety over danger. Rowan was aware that there were bands of thieves, men without remorse, who plagued the area. If she encountered them, they would easily capture an unarmed woman. As fear crept into her mind Rowan heard a rustle of leaves. Spinning around rowan gawked at whom she was seeing. It was none other than the young man from the inn. He had followed her and until now had gone undetected. Rowan cursed herself for not noticing till now. I’m losing my touch, she thought as she glared at him.

“What do you want?” She demanded.

“Is it so strange that I happened to be traveling the same way?” He asked evasively. “Before I stumbled upon you I was traveling toward Amell myself. Don’t worry I’m not planning on turning you into Sol.” As he spoke the man carried on his pace, this time settling next to Rowan.

Rowan continued her own stride staring straight ahead at the gravel path. She couldn’t help but notice the difference in height between them. His robust body towered over her diminutive physique. He was restraining his legs from passing her limited pace. “Who are you?” She asked giving into her curiosity.

The question surprised Farren, thus far Rowan had been unyielding to acknowledge him. Her inquiry was in his eyes proof that she was letting down her guard. Eager to seize the opportunity to speak with the willful women, he decided to answer sincerely. “My name is Farren. I left my town, Hayeot, a few months ago and have been traveling since.”

As he spoke Farren noticed that Rowan was making an effort to avoid looking in his direction. This gave him the chance to study her as they made their way down the curving trail. The wind’s breeze had tugged at her secured hair resulting in loose strands that settled on her dainty shoulders. She appeared weak but Farren knew better than to underestimate the strength she could muster. It was known throughout the country that the princess partook in combat. Rumor also had it that she was a worthy opponent. Farren’s guess was that her reason for traveling to Amell was to find a smith to forge her a weapon. For what Farren did not know, but hoped to find out.

“Why did you leave? I was told Hayeot is a prosperous and peaceful town.” Rowan looked up at him, her eyes suspicious.

“To be honest, a little too peaceful for my taste. My father is the wealthiest merchant in town and hopes that I’ll take over the family business. I know I should consider myself lucky to be born into a position of wealth and power, but I rather leave it up to one of my brothers. I am more interested in pursuing my own goals.” Farren hoped her response would quell his own doubts in his decision. He knew his choice could be considered as foolish, rash or even selfish but what was the point of living if not for you?

All Rowan said was, “I understand” and picked up her pace. Feeling as if he’d touched an old wound Farren decided to let the conversation slip away with the setting sun. He slowed his pace letting Rowan take the lead to Amell.

The two of them had traveled through the night and late into the morning before deciding to take a break. Rowan settled onto the sun warm grass that lay beside the winding path to Amell. Farren followed suit and stretched out his long limbs before laying down beside her. As Rowan looked up at the clear sky she felt some tension leave her body. A sigh escaped her mouth and she heard Farren adjust his position. Opening her eyes she found him facing her his head propped on one arm. “What happened to your parents?” The pure concern on his face did nothing to stop the rage he had just dug up.

“They were betrayed! Killed in cold blood by traitors from Braydel. They’re working with Argos to take over Sifor. My parents were murdered before my eyes and there wasn’t anything I could do to save them!” Rowan buried her face in her hands, trying hopelessly to hold back sobs, as tears streamed down her cheeks. Rowan’s trembling body was suddenly steadied as Farren’s strong arms embraced her. Why do I feel relieved by a simple hug from a stranger? How could I be so fragile? She felt his hand stroking her hair, the soothing gesture causing more tears to escape her eyes. “Why do keep saving me?” The question was out before Rowan could stop it.

“How could I leave a beautiful lady without a shoulder to cry on?” Despite the comments lighthearted words Farren’s tone was amorous. Rowan couldn’t help but laugh and wrap her arms around his broad back. “I couldn’t save my parents but I will save my country.”

After what seemed like a lifetime Farren released his hold on her, provoking heat to crawl into Rowan’s face. Wiping the remaining tears from her eyes she stood up and patted the grass off her dress. Farren got up and did the same, his face slightly pink as well. So even the Casanova gets embarrassed. Rowan felt her mouth tug into a smile at the thought. “Shall we continue on to Amell?”

His father had been right about Rowan’s laugh. It had the mystifying power to capture hearts, and Farren’s had been ensnared. He couldn’t seem to forget the warmth her body had radiated as they’d embraced. They were now walking side by side with Amell in sight. Looking ahead he could see the dark shadows cast by the few structures visible in the setting sun. He and Rowan hadn’t exchanged words since agreeing to find a inn once they arrived in the town. Walking for a day without sleep was beginning to take a toll on Farren and he’d noticed Rowan looked exhausted as he felt. Her pace was painfully slow and her head was beginning to droop as if she’d pass out at a moment’s notice.

“We’re finally here!” Rowan exclaimed in a cheerful voice that betrayed her jaded face. Returning his attention back to the town Farren was pleased to see that they had arrived. A small weathered sign indicated that they were indeed in Amell. Casting a glance around the town of wooden cabins he spotted only one two story that he assumed was the town’s tavern. “Follow me” he told Rowan and headed in the direction of hot food and soft beds.

Rowan followed Farren to Amell’s sole leveled deckhouse. Once they reached the porch Farren spun around leaning toward Rowan and whispered “You need to hide your face.” His breath tickled her ear and Rowan clasped a hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle. “Why?” She questioned.

“Those wanted poster’s sent out by whoever’s at the castle will have been delivered all over Sifor. We don’t want you to be caught and turned in. Try this.” Farren pulled from his backpack a sterling grey cloak and threw it around Rowan. He finished the disguise by pulling the large hood over Rowan’s head, leaving her face covered in shadows. Grabbing her hand Farren opened the door and dragged Rowan into the warm dinning hall. All heads in the room turned in the direction of the latest guests. A woman who must have been the evening’s hostess greeted them instantly. “How may I help you?” She welcomed in a voice altered to mollify customers.

Farren promptly responded with “My sister and I are in need of a room for the night. Do you have any available?” At first Rowan was distracted by the lie of their relationship, but then figured it was necessary. She fit the role of a sister perfectly; standing next to Farren her stature would easily be accepted as a child’s. Rowan saw the young hostess inspecting Farren with a brazen glimpse before answering. “ We do, this way please.”

Farren’s hand was still clamped on Rowan’s as they followed the woman up the stairs and down a long hallway to the last door on the left. “This is your room and payment will be asked for at the end of your stay. If you need anything else please come find me.” At her last sentence the mistress focused her lustful eyes on Farren then walked away putting an extra swing in her hips. Once she was out of earshot Rowan yanked her hand from Farren’s and jerked the door to their room open. Farren didn’t say anything, just followed her suit and closed the door behind him. Rowan was glad for single candlestick that left the room dim. She didn’t want Farren to see the scowl she felt take over her features. He doesn’t belong to you. In fact you barely know him. Who looks at him and who he looks at doesn’t concern you. You’re his sister remember? Despite the arguments logic Rowan couldn’t bring her self to forget the anger she felt towards the flirtatious woman. The one thing that helped her calm down was Farren’s lack of response. Rowan figured with his looks he’d been prey to many women’s attempts to seduce him. The sound of fabric rustling awoke Rowan from the flood of feelings. She glanced in the direction the disturbance had originated from and saw Farren was making the double bed that dominated the small room. Noticing her gaze he asked “ Are you going to help or not?”

Glad to see he wasn’t going to ask about her sudden change in attitude Rowan undid the cloak and approached the bed. She grabbed the soft comforter and huffed as she flapped it over the matress. She heard Farren release a chuckle and felt her cheeks burn. I have blushed more these past few days than I have in my entire life. Smiling she said, “It’s a everyday struggle being this short okay Mr. giant?” Her comment was met with a mirthful laugh that echoed through the confined space. “So I see.” Farren said, his voice tender.

The shift in tone caused Rowan to become acutely aware of how small the room was and the fact that there was only one bed. Her body shiver and her heart flutter as she felt his eyes on her. Breaking the awkward silence she quickly announced “ I’m going to clean myself off so help yourself to the bed. I’ll sleep on the floor” and bolted to the washroom.

What are you doing? Farren thought to himself as Rowan closed the door behind her. She was obviously catching on to the affection he was starting to feel toward her. It was also apparent that it frightened her, what that meant, Farren had yet to figure out. It was either good or bad. Of course its bad Farren, there’s no way it could work out between you. After countless thoughts that continued to wreck havoc in his mind Farren settled onto the bed. Of course he wouldn’t let Rowan sleep on the floor but there was no harm in resting until she was done hiding. The bed’s soft mattress and alluring pillows beckoned his eyes to close and Farren was to weak to resist his body’s fatigue.

Farren awoke with a start at the sound of a tree being pressed to the window by a forceful gush of wind. Realizing he had fallen asleep he searched the room looking for her small form. He was relieved to find her sleeping unharmed on the floor that hugged the bed’s foundation. Guilt filled him as he realized the situation. The princess is sleeping on the ground while I take up the bed. Farren pushed the covers that he must have used during his slumber, off and walked over to the side of the bed Rowan slept by. Rowan’s body was sprawled over the cloak he’d given and her head rested on a pillow she must have taken from the bed. Gently scooping her into his arms Farren prayed she wouldn’t wake. He laid her onto the bed and covered her with the scarlet comforter. She mumbled something that he didn’t catch and a tear slipped from her eye. She must be dreaming of her family he thought and wiped the tear away from her flawless skin.

Despite the hiatus in his rest Farren was still exhausted and the hard floor didn’t sound appealing after the bed’s soft embrace. Maybe I could. No She’ll go berserk if I do. The notion was likely to casue mischief in the morning but Farren was too tired to care right now. The well-rested Farren could deal with the trouble that was to come.

The sunlight that that trespassed through the window pierced Rowan’s eyelids awakening her from the endless nightmares that had plagued her sleep. She had dreamt of her parents death again. Whenever she closed her eyes it was their face she saw, as if they were determined to remind Rowan of the revenge she sought. Today Rowan would begin the next step in extracting her revenge against their killers. She would find the blacksmith of Ameel and have him craft her a weapon that would aid her in defeating Braydel’s traitors and the antagonists of Argos.

Stretching her arms Rowan was stunned to find herself on the bed. After she’d been sure Farren had fallen asleep she’d grabbed a pillow from the bed and nestled on the coat beside the bed. Rowan tensed as she felt a hand snake around her waist. Farren clung to her like a child clutched its toy, his face relaxed and oblivious to the intimate contact. Rowan froze, fearful of alerting him and creating even more embarrassment to endure. Did I crawl into the bed or… As soon as the thought passed Rowan knew what had happened. Why that little! But the anger wasn’t what Rowan really felt at the realization, a reaction that left her fretful and puzzled.

Deciding it there was no escaping the situation unharmed, Rowan gently jostled Farren’s constricting arm in hopes of awakening him. Farren moaned in response but other wise remained asleep. “Farren its time to wake up.” Rowan whispered, patting his ruffled hair. At last Farren’s emerald eyes cracked open and focused in on her. A awkward silence filled the room as he processed the situation then he released his grip on her and jumped out of bed.

“I am terribly sorry my princess!” Farren stressed his apology with a deep bow, hiding his face. The gesture and title unleashed a storm of laughter from Rowan that caused him to jerk up, a look of utter befuddlement on his grand features. “Aren’t you upset with my impertinent actions?” He asked in a curious voice.

Rowan cut off her guffaw with “I should be shouldn’t I? But I’ll forgive you since you so kindly appealed to my sense of humor.” She got off the bed and grabbed her pack from the floor before heading toward the washroom. She grasped the handle and before closing it murmured “Call me Rowan.” As the door shut Farren was left staring at it in complete awe.

After both of them had ckeaned up and grabbed what they needed for the day, Farren and Rowan descended the stairs to the inn’s lower level. Farren led them to the bar counter hoping to ask the man behind where they could find Amell’s blacksmith. As he’d feared the materialistic woman who’d eyed him with hunger the previous night intercepted them. “What can I help you with today?” Her voice dripped with overwhelming fervor.

Ignoring her tone Farren cut straight to the point with his question. “We are searching for a blacksmith. Do you know where I can find one?” He sensed Rowan step forward to position herself next to him. The motion seemed natural enough but her eyes held a possessive gleam to them.

Continuing as if she hadn’t noticed the woman answered politely. “We have an excellent weapon smith here in Amell. His forge is just outside the outskirts of town.” She continued to give directions and bide them farewell as they left, her eyes following Farren out the door.

As they walked through town toward there destination Rowan asked the question that had her possessed. “How come you’re coming with me? I thought you were just going to Amell and then we’d separate.” Although she was scared to remind him, Rowan’s curiosity outweighed her fears.

Farren looked down at her and responded a pensive expression set on his face. “Because you need me. I know you plan on do something about your parent’s death and I want to help. All you have to do is ask.”