Page 121 of A Kingdom of Wild and Power
The forest answered for the child with silence.
Rowan scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck, uncertain for once. He could practically feel Elowen’s glare burning between his shoulder blades, sharp enough to wound. It did not trouble him in the slightest. If anything, it amused him greatly.
He extended his hand towards the child.
A minute passed.
Then another.
The small, dirt-streaked hand did not move.
Rowan let out a slow breath and withdrew his arm. ‘Right then.’
He tilted his head and tried another tactic.
‘Listen, kid,’ he said, nodding towards the procession weaving through the trees. ‘You see that over there?’ He pointed to where Elowen strode beside the carrier, nearly swallowed by the forest’s shadow. ‘Princess Rio Hawthorne is inside that one. We’re on a secret mission.’
He couldn’t help the grin that tugged at his lips when the boy’s eyes sparked with interest.
‘No one can know,’ Rowan continued in a conspiratorial whisper. ‘We’ve to guard her body while she spies for us.’
The child blinked. ‘Spying?’
‘Correct.’ Rowan’s smile widened. ‘On the gods.’
He expected awe. Instead, the boy’s expression hardened; his blue eyes narrowed like winter ice.
‘Ya shouldn’t trust da gods!’ he spat, sudden fury flaring in his thin voice.
‘Woah, all right!’ Rowan lifted both hands in surrender, laughter dancing beneath the surprise. ‘Never met awolverian who hated the gods before. That’s new.’
He waited as the child’s chest rose and fell, the anger simmering down into wary silence.
‘So,’ Rowan said more gently, lowering himself slightly to meet the boy’s stare, ‘will you come with me? Help watch over her while she spies?’
The child bit his lip, face pinched with stubborn annoyance.
‘Will you tell me why we shouldn’t trust the gods?’ Rowan asked quietly.
No answer came.
Only the restless sigh of wind through leaves.
Rowan exhaled, glancing back at the fading procession.
‘Well,’ he murmured, offering a crooked smile, ‘I did try.’
He turned from the child at last, though every instinct tugged at him to try again. There were a dozen different approaches he could take, a hundred softer words he might offer. But already the group had drifted too far ahead, the rustle of branches and murmur of voices fading into the forest’s hush.
Elowen would worry.
Rowan quickened his pace, weaving between trunks until he reached his sister. She did not need to speak; her expression delivered its verdict plainly enough.
‘I tried,’ he said, a faint heaviness settling into his voice. ‘But it didn’t work.’
Elowen arched a brow, her lips curving into a sly smile. ‘Are you quite certain about that?’ She tipped her chin towards something behind him.
Rowan turned.
