Page 47 of The Last One Standing (Rogue X Ara #4)

I followed the path as far as I could see, but not far enough. Draig Hearth sat at the end of that road. My mother sat at the end.

A deep ache settled in my chest, and I pressed my palm over it, my breath hitching. I could practically see her standing in the highest tower, watching and waiting for my return—or I hoped she was. I hoped she was alive and well enough to stand and simmer with impatience, angrily tapping her foot.

“How is Mother?” I asked. “And don’t say alive. I know she’s alive. I know she’s safe, but if we’re not going to her, then I need to know. The letters I tried to send didn’t…didn’t burn, and I need to know.”

He stilled, and I closed my eyes, the ache seeping into my bones as I braced myself for his answer.

“She is alive, and she is safe, but she’s…different.” He exhaled a deep sigh. “Truthfully, I think she might’ve been losing the war in her head. I’ve been forcing her to meet with me once a week for a meal, just to make sure she eats something, but she doesn’t like it.”

My hand pressed into my mouth. “We have to go to her. Now.”

“She—”

I swiveled to glare at him. “Now, Rogue. She needs to know I’m alive, and I need to see her, too. I will not let her death be my fault.”

His mouth ticked up in a one-sided smile. “Iaso has been in contact with my…with Edana. She’s been writing Edana, who went ahead to Draig Hearth to relay the message. Elora knows, and much like you, has demanded to see you with her own eyes.”

My shoulders sagged on a shaky exhale. If she demanded to see me, then she was speaking, which meant she hadn’t fallen into another silent void—or not entirely.

“Good. That’s…good. Is she meeting us where we’re going?”

“Not quite.”

I narrowed my eyes. “That’s ominously vague.”

“She can’t come where we’re going.”

A knot of tension coiled in my chest. “I need to see her.”

“I know, and you will, but she doesn’t know about the oath, nor will she. Nobody knows, outside of those who’ve sworn it.”

“And me.”

“And you.”

I swallowed, my heart stuttering. “Tonight, then? I can see her tonight?”

“Tomorrow,” he promised. “They should arrive first thing tomorrow.”

I bit the inside of my cheek and turned forward again. “I sent letters to her lady’s maids. They replied with the same few words I’ve heard a hundred times, coupled with apologies and pity.”

Rogue pulled me close, and my head rested against the center of his chest, right above the sun supposedly marked into his skin.

“She’s alive,” I said. “She’s safe and well-guarded at Draig Hearth, fed and taken care of by the staff…but she doesn’t feel safe, and that…breaks me.”

I clung to his arm like my own personal armor. If only he could protect me from the danger confined within my own skull.

“She’s been through so much,” I continued. “With Vaelor and Alden. I don’t even know what happened to her parents, my grandparents…if she ever had a relationship with them at all. I didn’t meet them, and she never spoke about them. I didn’t know anything about her life at all until I met Alden.

“When I was seven or eight, I stopped asking about her life. I realized she didn’t want me to know, though Evander told me bits and pieces behind her back.

Not much, but small things, like how they were childhood friends, how he thought she was the most beautiful girl in the world, his hopeless puppy love when they were kids.

” A laugh shook loose the welling tears in my eyes, and they slipped past my lashes, cold in the thin air.

“According to him, that was a common occurrence around her.”

I rested my chin on his arm again. “She lost him, too, years before his body died. Goddess, did she have anyone ? It’s not fair. She deserves better—better than just me, and so do you.”

He ripped my head back until I met his gaze—a fiery, glowing red. “Do not ever say that again.”

I attempted to pull my chin from his hold, but he didn’t give me an inch.

“No, Ara.” His thumb slid over my bottom lip, and my wet cheeks flushed. “I don’t deserve you, I never have, but better?There is no better.”

The air that was too thin suddenly felt thick. His fingers splayed beneath my jaw, his little finger skimming my throat, his thumb reaching my cheek.

His eyes glowed brighter, moving closer with each word as he whispered, “Don’t say it. Don’t think it. Those words should not even exist to you. You’ve always deserved the world.”

I nodded breathlessly when his lips touched mine, and sparks danced along my skin. He flinched, then grinned against my mouth like he could feel them, too.

“Now, say it,” he said.

“S-say what?”

“Say you deserve the world, me included.”

I rolled my eyes and tried to pull my head away again, but his hand tightened.

“Say. It.”

I sucked in a breath, my head fuzzy. “I deserve the world.”

His grin grew, hovering over my lips, and my cheeks burned hotter.

“And you.”

“Tell yourself that daily—every morning, every night. Tell yourself every hour of every day until it gets through that thick skull and you believe it, because it’s true.”

He released me then, and I jolted forward, sitting straighter to put space between us, but my lips tingled in the aftermath of him. I lifted my fingers to replace where his mouth had been.

I wasn’t wrong in calling him a madman, but his brand of madness was beguiling, and I found myself drawn to him. Like a moth to a flame, I grew increasingly mesmerized, but would I end up burnt or simply…toasty?

I could handle toasty.

He looped an arm around my waist and pulled me back into him, my body flush to his. “I’ll tell you that every day, too, but I have a feeling me saying the words won’t mean as much.”

I supposed I could handle a little burning around the edges, too, some light scorching if need be.

“You’re right. I was taught to never believe the words of a stranger,” I teased, but instantly regretted it, afraid that wound was too fresh.

I winced, an apology on the tip of my tongue, but laughter burst from him.

“Smart, but I’m no stranger,” he said. “You’ve known me for at least a week, remember?”

“Ah, you’re right,” I mused with a grin. “Not a stranger, after all. Does that mean I should trust you implicitly?”

“Considering you’re sitting atop a wyvern, hundreds of feet in the air, and holding onto nothing but me…” His mouth moved against my ear. “I’d say you already do.”

He wasn’t wrong. My hands had fallen to my lap. His hands, one knotted in the rope, the other flat against my torso, were all that held me aloft. My heart hammered against my sternum, practically jumping into his palm, and I homed in on what I felt there, tucked between it and my rib cage.

It certainly wasn’t fear.

“I suppose I do,” I murmured.

Silence followed for a few minutes. I’d never trusted a stranger so thoroughly, and it was an odd sensation—not knowing but feeling .

Lost in my thoughts, I startled when he said, “You can, you know.”

“Can what?”

“Trust me.” His thumb moved up and down over my ribs, his arm tightening ever so slightly. “You can trust me.”

“I…do,” I whispered, surprised by the truth in my words, then cleared my throat and spoke louder. “I do trust you.”

He released my waist long enough to lift my wrist to his mouth and kiss the scar there before wrapping his arm back around me again, like he couldn’t bear to not hold me.

Or maybe he just didn’t want me to fall to my death.

Either way, he cared.

I didn’t know what spell I cast over this man in the past, what kind of magic I performed to enrapture him so thoroughly, but somehow, some way, he’d fallen deeply in love.

The King of Ravaryn—a fucking Draig—love sick.

I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d been just as infatuated.

Probably more so.

We coasted over a narrow valley.

It almost appeared like an alternative version of Canyon.

Two steep mountains bordered either side, but where Canyon sat in a desert, hidden beneath sand and stone, this was a dense evergreen forest. Dark emerald trees rustled as we flew low over the tops, snow swirling from the branches with the rich scent of pine.

“I thought we were here for your blood oath,” I said over my shoulder without tearing my eyes from the expanse.

“We are.”

Guardian landed in the nearest clearing. Glittering, ice-crusted pine needles littered the ground, crunching underfoot as Rogue leapt down and lifted a hand toward me, but I climbed down much slower, my steps unsure and hands gripping Guardian’s spikes like rungs on a ladder.

Before I could take Rogue’s hand, though, it fell a fraction. His form went still before he slowly, carefully rolled his shoulders. He released a low, breathy laugh, sounding almost relieved.

My brows furrowed as I reached for his hand.

The corner of his mouth tipped up into a heart-stopping smile. His thumb ran across the back of my hand, the small movement much more distracting than it should’ve been—a tumultuous distraction I did not need as I climbed down the side of a wyvern.

As if on cue, my foot missed the last step, and I tumbled into him.

I hit his chest, and he caught me with an arm around my waist. With my head tipped back, there were only inches between us—diminishing inches. His eyes dropped to my mouth, and my heart hammered, head spinning.

But then, he stilled.

His attention snapped to Guardian, eyes flaming, pupils slitted. “They’re coming. He has him, the navy wyvern.”

Guardian’s head whirled to Rogue before he scanned the skies. Rogue ripped his hand from mine and shoved me into Guardian. A black wing shrouded me in darkness.

“He…Adonis is…coming?”

Blood roared in my ears as I stumbled into Guardian’s scaled side, torn between screaming, cursing, and crying.

I didn’t have time to decide. To think. To breathe.

An ear-splitting screech pierced the air a second before a creature crashed into Guardian.

He was thrown back, staggering on his wingtips, and I lurched away from them, gasping as I carefully avoided being crushed.

Digging the clawed tips into the ground, he braced his back legs against his attacker, and chaos ensued.

Snapping jaws.

Dirt flying under wings and claws.

Snarling. A roar.

Fire burned, smoke and the metallic scent of?—

Guardian tensed.

His neck thrashed.

Warmth splattered my face.

With trembling fingers, I wiped my cheek and pulled my hand away to see red smeared across my skin.

Thick, dark red, still hot from the vein.