As soon as Rowan heard Jeremy calling out from behind, he began to swear so strongly and profusely he would have caused his mother and sister to blush for his sake. By the time the boy was near to him, though, he had his feelings reasonably under control, although his face still remained slightly flushed with anger. He reined Vixen in rather sharply, ignoring the little indignant buck she gave and glaring at Jeremy instead.
The kid was downright relentless. Deep down, Rowan realized he’d somehow, somewhere, gone devastatingly, drastically wrong with him. His current state of mind forced him to admit that here was an excellent example of what his thoughtless actions often left in their wake: a big fat mess that no amount of effort could ever clean up.
He could not quite bite down on the fury he felt at hearing Jeremy so belittle their fellow traveling companions. Normally, he would have just shaken his head and smiled, but the boy’s selfish animosity had been building for too long, with little hope of ever diminishing.
He had tried speaking to him. He had tried yelling at him. He had even tried picking him up and literally tossing him out of his home. But Jeremy Swanson was like a plague that would never. Ever. Go. Away.
Shaking visions of putrid pustules dripping from Jeremy’s spiked colored hair from his mind, he refocused on the present and tried to look stern—tried, rather, and failed.
“Why are you following me?” he snapped, his tone infused with anger, even if the emotion wasn’t written all over his face.
Jeremy looked a bit miffed but otherwise unperturbed. In fact, he even looked downright hopeful.
Rowan was long past pitying him. In his heart, he knew he was making an enemy of boy who wouldn’t forgive him lightly, if at all. But he couldn’t bring himself to care, not now, anyway.
“Jeremy,” he continued in the same clipped tone of voice, “I want you to turn that godsdamned horse around, right now, do you hear me? I am finishing this mission alone, and if I were to take anyone at all, you would most assuredly be the very last person on my list! Do I make myself clear?”
Not surprisingly, Jeremy wasn’t too pleased to hear that. Unsatisfied with the boy’s whiney complaining and false resignation to remain behind, he reached over and grabbed Demon’s reins in one hand, jerking the stallion closer.
“I’m taking you back,” he announced through clenched teeth. “And if I have to knock you out and tie you to a tree to keep you from following me then I will!”
With that, he began to lead the horse and its suddenly very sulky rider back to Darlanta’s clearing, praying with all his heart that Soran was still off in the forest somewhere, hidden from view. His prayers were granted, but he did spot Cas and Eremis standing alongside where he’d left Xue.
The wer girl grinned rather mischievously up at him. “You came back,” she said in that matter-of-fact voice of hers.
Eremis lifted an eyebrow. “Came back from where?” Rowan noticed that both he and Cas were eyeing Jeremy, who was after all sitting on Soran’s horse, with growing disgust.
He dropped Demon’s reins and flashed Jeremy an angry look before facing the others again. “It’s not what it looks like,” he explained. “He followed me.”
“Oh yeah? And where were you going?” Cas asked, still giving him a dirty look. Rowan chewed on his lip and wondered if he really wanted to risk angering the both of them.
“Leaving,” Xue supplied, looking smug. “He wishes to hunt alone. He does not need the pack any longer.” She tossed him a sideways look, as if to show that she wasn’t completely ignorant of human emotion as she sometimes claimed to be. “He was running away. Not from us, I think, but from someone here.”
“Thank you, Xue, that will do,” he said, his anger returning almost full force. He liked feeling angry, though, as it served to hide his other emotions for awhile. As soon as the thought hit him, though, the anger faded, leaving him feeling much as he was before. He sighed.
“If you will all excuse me,” he said stiffly, heeling Vixen forward. He guided the mare past the others and headed back toward the barn. Running away, indeed! He wasn’t running away. Nothing could have been farther from the truth.
Okay, so maybe he was running away a little bit. He tossed the thought around in his brain while untacking Vixen, who shifted restlessly in her stall now, thanks to the magic apple he’d fed her. She would have taken him swiftly away from here if he’d asked her to. He chewed on his lip, wishing he had the guts to curse Jeremy’s name for interrupting his plans.
Before heading back outside, he rummaged around the tack room until he found a mirror. (Darlanta WAS a woman, after all, albeit a somewhat eccentric one.) He wiped carefully at a smudge of dirt on his right cheekbone and ran his fingers through his tangled, windblown hair. He straightened his travel-worn clothes, wishing mightily for a bath and clean change of attire. Even clean, he still looked rather dull. He had only one earring in one ear, two in the other, and three braids in his hair, no feathers.
He frowned and tossed the mirror back into the wooden chest. He wasn’t out to win any beauty contests, though he hated feeling so disheveled. A perfect appearance on the outside could often make up for a less than perfect image on the inside. Wait a second, that didn’t sound quite right. Hmm. He scratched his head then shrugged, finally heading back outside.
Unlike his recent rant, he tried to work out what he was going to say in his head as he walked. His carefully prepared speech disappeared the moment he saw Soran sitting on the ground, sipping a bottle of wine, though. At the moment, all he wanted to do was fling himself down at he boy’s feet and beg him to have more faith in him.
In the end, they both simply stared at one another for several seconds without saying a word. Soran looked rather surprised; Rowan felt his heart turn over dully in his chest from—fear? Nervousness? Maybe both. Maybe neither.
Considering he’d much rather face a whole battalion of enemy soldiers right now than talk to his student, he supposed the former was more likely. Sweet Lord and Lady, and he hadn’t even opened his mouth yet…
“I…er…hello again,” he managed. Oh, brilliant, Silvertree. They didn’t call you Young Silvertongue for nothing, did they? Geez.
He cleared his throat. Thinking his way through a serious conversation was new for him, though, or maybe he was just out of practice. Regardless, he’d have to take things slowly.
“I need to speak with you,” he continued. “Again. Obviously, again, as I just left you, but—well, I have something more to add.”
He thought about sitting down but changed his mind. He tried leaning against a nearby tree, but his feet kept twitching, urging him to pace or at least move about a little.
“You should know,” he began again, “that I do…care about you. And not only as your teacher, but as your…lover.” He thought for a moment, then nodded, as if reassuring himself. “Our time together has meant a lot to me. And although I may be…f-frightened…” That word cost him a lot, but he managed it. “…frightened of how I feel, and of how you obviously feel, I would ask…”
This time he did move to sit beside Soran, even taking one of his hands into his and gazing into his eyes imploringly. “I would ask that you give me a chance, sari. I know I seem fickle, and thoughtless, and even selfish at times, but I know that if you would just try to have faith in me you would see that it’s worth your while. I can try, at least,” he added, almost desperately, though now he didn’t feel like he was pleading with his student so much as himself. “And Soran, I do want to try, I really do.”
