Page 120 of A Kingdom of Wild and Power
‘Does it have parents?’ Elowen pressed, impatience edging her tone.
‘Do you have parents?’ Rowan echoed gently.
Silence again.
‘It’s wolverian,’ Elowen muttered, irritation sharpening her features. ‘Why is it with us? We crossed the wolverian border hours ago.’
‘Why do you keep calling the child an it?’ Rowan tilted his head, faintly amused.
Elowen pulled a face. ‘I detest children.’
‘Yes, that is abundantly clear.’
Rowan turned back to the waif before them, studying the slight frame and the long, silver hair matted with dirt, leaves and twigs. It hung in tangled ropes around narrow shoulders. The child was so thin that it was difficult to discern anything beneath the grime and oversized rags.
‘Are you a boy or a girl?’ Rowan asked mildly. ‘I truly cannot tell.’ He inhaled and then recoiled slightly, wrinkling his nose. ‘And when, precisely, was the last time you bathed?’
‘It must have parents somewhere,’ Elowen said, glancing back towards the carrier that bore the princess. ‘It will find its way back to them. Come along, Rowan.’
‘We cannot simply leave him here,’ Rowan replied.
‘Why ever not?’
‘Because he’s a child.’ Rowan’s gaze sharpened as itsettled on his sister. ‘He could die. He’s half-starved as it is.’
Elowen exhaled sharply through her nose. ‘Very well. Do as you please. But he is your responsibility. Do not involve me.’
She had already turned on her heel before the last word left her lips, striding back towards the procession with that rigid, purposeful grace she wore like armour.
Rowan smiled to himself. ‘Beneath all that frost, there beats a very soft heart,’ he called after her.
Elowen muttered a curse without looking back.
Within moments she had resumed her place beside the carrier, casting him a pointed look that clearly meant to hurry up.
Rowan turned back to the child. ‘How long have you been trailing us?’
The boy hesitated, as though weighing the danger of honesty, before murmuring, ‘A few days.’
‘A few days,’ Rowan repeated, nodding slowly. He stared at the loaf still clutched in those trembling hands. ‘Very well. You stay close to me. I’ll make sure you’re fed.’
Suspicion darkened the child’s blue eyes. He did not trust kindness. Sensible, perhaps.
Rowan sighed theatrically. ‘Or you may continue attempting to steal from us until one of the Black Lotus notices and relieves you of a limb.’
The colour drained from the boy’s face at once.
‘Yes,’ Rowan said lightly. ‘I thought that might persuade you.’
He rose and began to walk towards the others, but after several paces he realised the child had not moved.
With a faint groan, he turned back.
The boy was still seated in the dirt, small and rigid as a trapped animal, silver hair tangled about his hollow cheeks.
Rowan studied him for a long moment, something softer shining behind his eyes.
‘What are you running from?’ he asked quietly.
