Rowan's POV
"So don't be surprised if I don't leave you alone now," the thief whispered.
His voice was low. Too close.
Too intimate.
Because he was—on top of me.
As if this were a perfectly reasonable thing to do.
As if this was normal.
As if my life had not just derailed entirely.
"Leave me alone!" I shouted, shoving at his chest with both hands.
I managed to push him off—but instead of looking startled, or even mildly apologetic, he only smirked. Slowly. Deliberately. His fangs peeked out in open amusement, as though my reaction were the highlight of his day.
That was it.
I bolted upright, eyes wide, heart pounding, and fled the hut without a single coherent thought left in my head.
The moment I stepped outside, I was gasping for air as though I had sprinted across an entire battlefield—despite the fact that I had done nothing except exist very badly.
My heart was racing.
My chest felt tight.
And for reasons I absolutely refused to acknowledge, my face felt unbearably hot.
I hated it.
I hated that I couldn't explain it.
"Oh! Rowan, you're here—good," Serena said when she appeared in front of me. She tilted her head, eyebrow lifting sharply. "Why do you look so pale?"
"Really? Do I?" I asked, genuinely confused.
She studied me harder. "Did something happen? Did that thief provoke you again?"
Concern flickered across her face, and before I could stop her, she hurried back into the hut.
I followed, my steps hesitant.
Inside, the thief lay sprawled on the woven mat, utterly still. Peaceful. Asleep.
Perfectly, offensively asleep.
"Good. He's still unconscious," Serena said with visible relief. "I thought he did something to you. You looked like you'd seen death itself."
"N-no!" I stammered far too quickly. "Nothing happened. He was asleep the entire time."
A blatant lie.
Because I knew.
I knew.
He was pretending.
"Come on," Serena said briskly. "We're eating dinner now. I came to get you in case I found that thief bothering you again—because if he were, I would've slapped him."
She flipped her hair and walked off ahead of me.
"O-okay. I'm coming," I said, following her—
but before stepping out, I glanced back.
The thief's eyes were open.
And he smiled.
Slow. Teasing. Infuriating.
"Don't forget my dinner, Rowan," he said casually. "I'll be waiting. I'm starving."
"This thief..." I muttered under my breath, narrowing my eyes. "Starve to death."
I stormed out before he could enjoy my reaction any further.
* * *
The other hut was already filled with the rich aroma of grilled fish and meat, steam rising from bowls of hot soup laid out beside a low table.
"Perfect timing, Lord Rowan!" Elder Henderson said warmly, coughing lightly. "Come, join us. I'm sure you must be hungry."
"Here, Rowan," Serena said, patting the soft cushion beside her. "Sit next to me."
As I sat down, my eyes drifted to the food—but my mind was elsewhere.
"How is the thief?" General Voltaire asked calmly.
"He was still sleeping when I left," I replied, my voice tighter than I intended.
I couldn't tell them the truth.
I couldn't tell them that he had pinned me down and whispered that he wouldn't leave me alone anymore.
They would misunderstand.
Badly.
"Yes, I checked as well," Serena added. "Thankfully, he was asleep."
"I hope he wakes up soon," Aurein said softly. "I'm worried about him."
Serena shot him an irritated look.
"At this point, I might start thinking you like that thief, Aurein."
"What? No!" Aurein protested immediately, shaking his head.
Then he glanced at General Voltaire beside him—who suddenly placed both hands on the table as if preparing to stand.
"Just stay here and eat peacefully," General Voltaire said calmly.
Too calmly.
"Where are you going?" Aurein asked.
"I'm just going to kill the thief."
Aurein's eyes flew open as he grabbed General Voltaire's arm.
"I don't have any feelings for him!" he blurted out in panic. "Why would you think that? That's crazy!"
"Good," General Voltaire said seriously, sitting back down with a deep sigh.
"But wait," Aurein added hesitantly. "Aren't we giving him food?"
"No!" Serena snapped. "Don't give that thief anything. Let him starve. At least let him suffer hunger. Right, Rowan?"
She glared at me expectantly.
"Y-yes," I agreed. "Let him starve. He deserves it."
Aurein pouted, turning to General Voltaire as if waiting for support.
"We'll feed the thief," General Voltaire said calmly, focused on his food.
Aurein brightened instantly.
"What? General Voltaire!" Serena protested.
"We'll give him whatever is left," Voltaire added.
"That settles it," Serena declared, immediately piling food onto her plate. "Elric, get more for Zen. Feed him properly so he can grow into a big wolf really soon. Make sure nothing's left."
Clearly, she intended to leave the thief with nothing.
I stared down at my plate.
"Why aren't you eating, Lord Rowan?" Elder Henderson asked gently. "Aren't you hungry?"
"Don't tell me you're not eating so you can give it to the thief," Serena said sharply, eyes narrowing at me.
"What? Of course not!" I laughed. "Why would I give him anything? I hate him."
"I thought your heart softened already," Serena said skeptically.
"Why would it?" I replied. "He mocks me constantly—he degrades my status."
"Just saying," she replied, returning to her food.
I looked down at my plate again.
And then—
That voice echoed in my head.
"Everyone else left me out there. But you didn't. So don't be surprised if I don't leave you alone now."
"NO! STOP!" I shouted.
Every fork froze mid-air.
All eyes snapped toward me.
I clapped a hand over my mouth, horror crashing over me.
I hadn't meant to say that out loud.
It had slipped—
before I could stop myself.
"Is something bothering you, Rowan?" Aurein asked, clearly puzzled.
"Um..." I hesitated as I felt all of them staring at me with open curiosity. "I just remembered something. There's no need to make it a big deal," I said, laughing awkwardly.
They nodded, seemingly satisfied, and returned to their meal.
I exhaled sharply and lightly slapped my cheeks.
"Don't think about him, Rowan," I scolded myself. "He's just a lowly thief."
Then I felt it.
A stare.
I glanced to my left—and found Serena watching me while eating, her eyes narrowed as though she were dissecting my soul.
She definitely thought I was hiding something.
I immediately looked away and focused far too intensely on my food.
When we finished eating, there was nothing left. Nothing at all. There had been one bone with a bit of meat still clinging to it—but Serena had handed it to Zen without hesitation, as if she were determined to leave absolutely nothing behind for the thief.
"It seems the rain has stopped," General Voltaire said seriously as he looked toward the window of the hut.
"Finally," Serena said irritably. "Then can you please tie that thief outside already so I can sleep peacefully? I don't want to stay in the same hut as him. I beg you."
"I'll move him to another place," General Voltaire said. "You and Aurein stay here. I will be back."
They both nodded.
"Rowan, come with me," he ordered.
I nodded and followed him.
* * *
In the other hut, we found the thief awake.
Smiling.
"Where's my dinner?" he asked casually.
"Unfortunately, there is no dinner for you tonight," General Voltaire said.
Without another word, he lifted the thief onto his shoulder as if he weighed nothing more than a sack of grain.
"Rowan!" the thief protested. "You said you'd bring me food! I'm starving!"
"I didn't say anything," I replied flatly—lying through my teeth. "And how many times do I have to tell you? It's Lord Rowan."
"Tch. You gave me hope," he said, as if I owed him something.
General Voltaire carried him out of the hut, and I followed.
"So where are you taking me this time?" the thief asked cheerfully.
"Far enough that you won't disturb anyone's sleep," General Voltaire replied.
"What a shame. I was planning to sing until morning," the thief teased.
"Don't worry," General Voltaire said coolly. "I'll make sure your mouth is covered so you won't scream."
"That's cruel, Voltaire," the thief said.
The General shot him a glare.
"Do not speak to me as if we are friends," he said quietly—yet the threat in his voice was unmistakable.
"Oh no. I'm terrified. Truly shaking," the thief mocked, entirely unfazed.
He really feared nothing.
Not even General Voltaire.
Who did he think he was?
* * *
After walking some distance from the huts, General Voltaire stopped near a spring and tied the thief securely to a tree. At least there was water nearby.
Even without food, he would survive.
"Ah—could you at least give me some water?" the thief asked. "I'm thirsty too."
The General said nothing.
"Didn't you hear me? Are you deaf?" the thief taunted and the general started tying the chain forcefully. "Oh—oh! Fine, fine! I'll stop teasing—don't tighten it so much!"
General Voltaire didn't care. He made sure there was no chance of escape.
"You're so serious, Voltaire," the thief remarked.
"Hey," I snapped. "That's General Voltaire you're talking to. He may not be of royal blood, but you should show some respect."
The thief laughed.
"What's so funny?" I asked, annoyed.
He only laughed harder and refused to answer.
When General Voltaire finished securing the chain, he turned to me.
"Where will you sleep tonight? Your home, or the hut?" he asked.
"I'll probably sleep at my house," I said. Then I gestured toward the thief, who was grinning at me provocatively. "But who will watch him?"
"Let him stay here," General Voltaire said. He pulled a cloth from inside his clothing and firmly covered the thief's mouth. "Let's go back."
"Wait," I said. "What if someone helps him escape? An ally?"
General Voltaire sighed.
"I'll have to tell Aurein that I'll guard him all night."
I shook my head.
"I changed my mind. I'll guard him."
"Yes! I got company!" The thief said happily mocking. Both the General and I ignored him.
"You need rest for the mission," I continued. "If Aurein finds out you're staying here, he'll insist on staying too. Neither of you will sleep properly. I know how concerned you are about each other—even being apart for a moment. I'll watch this thief."
"Are you sure?" he asked.
"Yes," I said firmly. "I'll just get something from my house. When I return, you can go back and rest."
General Voltaire studied me for a moment—then nodded.
"Alright. I'll wait for you," he said.
"Thank you," I replied.
* * *
I had already returned to our estate when the familiar hush of marble floors and vaulted ceilings closed around me. The weight of the day still clung to my shoulders as our butler approached at once, posture immaculate, expression warm with practiced courtesy.
"Welcome back, Lord Rowan," he said. "Have you already eaten? Shall I prepare something for you?"
"No," I replied. "I've eaten already. Thank you."
"In that case, I shall inform Duke Kristoff that you have returned," he said, turning neatly on his heel.
"Wait."
The word slipped out before I could stop it. He paused mid-step and faced me again.
"Is there something you require, Lord Rowan?" he asked.
"Actually..." I hesitated, the thought forming too clearly in my mind. "...Never mind. Just go."
I exhaled sharply as he nodded and left.
I had almost asked him to prepare a proper meal—something warm, filling, nourishing—and have it packed neatly in a container.
I had almost planned to bring it to that wretched thief.
Almost.
Instead, I let the idea rot where it stood.
Perhaps it was better if he suffered a little.
Yes.
Let him feel hunger.
Only moments later, my father appeared.
"Rowan. You've returned," my father said, his voice firm yet familiar. "How did the mission with General Voltaire go? Was the thief captured?"
"Yes," I answered. "We were successful."
"I knew it," he said at once, pride brightening his features. "Whenever General Voltaire plans an operation, it succeeds. That man truly is remarkable. I admire him greatly." Then his gaze sharpened, studying me more closely. "You don't seem pleased."
"I am," I said. "I'm just tired. We chased the thief for quite some time."
"Of course," my father said. "You must be exhausted." He paused. "Where is the thief now? Has he been placed in the prison chamber? I wasn't informed of any new arrival today."
"No," I replied. "He's still with us. The General believes placing him in the prison chamber would only make him more uncooperative—especially with formal guards watching his every move."
"I see," my father said, nodding slowly. "That is reasonable."
"I hope you don't mind, Father," I added carefully. "And that you aren't displeased."
"No," he said without hesitation. "As long as General Voltaire is handling him, I have no objections." His eyes narrowed slightly. "Have you learned anything from the thief?"
My thoughts stalled.
We would have obtained the information already—
if only I had agreed to what he wanted.
But I couldn't.
I refused to lower myself.
I refused to submit to a common criminal.
"No," I said at last. "We're still trying."
"It won't be easy," my father replied. "Did you attempt to bribe him with gold?"
"Yes," I said. "The prince already tried. He still refused to speak."
My father hummed thoughtfully. "Then he will be troublesome. Still, at least he's been captured. He can no longer harm the locals."
"Yes," I said quietly. "That much is certain."
"There must be another way," he continued. "There is always something a man cannot refuse. He is a thief—material wealth is often their weakness."
"I hope so," I murmured, my gaze drifting to the floor.
The silence that followed pressed against my chest, heavier than it should have been.
"Father," I said before I could lose my resolve, "may I ask you something?"
He turned fully toward me. "Of course."
"How did you know," I asked slowly, "that Mother was the woman you would love for the rest of your life? Even now—after she's gone—how were you so certain?"
A gentle smile touched his lips. Soft. Fond.
"Why, my son," he said lightly, "do you have someone you're planning to marry? Have you finally fallen in love?"
"No," I said quickly. "That's not what I meant. I only wanted to know... how did you realize it? Was it sudden? Or did it take time?"
I hesitated.
"Who loved first? You—or her?"
He laughed softly and patted my back. "Ah. So there is someone."
"No, truly, there is no one. I'm just asking."
Then his expression changed—no longer teasing.
"To answer your question," he said, "I loved your mother first."
I listened.
"She was sharp-tongued. Proud. Difficult," he continued, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. "She bristled whenever commoners failed to address her properly. She wore her title like armor."
He chuckled.
"You are very much like her."
I frowned. "Am I truly that unpleasant? I only believe respect is proper. We are nobles. That is how the world works."
"Yes," my father said gently. "You're not wrong. Neither was she."
Then his voice deepened.
"But pride has its limits. Strip away our titles—our nobility, our royalty—and we are only human. We bleed the same. We die the same. In the end, the earth claims us all."
The words struck something raw inside me.
The thief had said the same thing.
Almost word for word.
A chill ran down my spine.
"Then how," I asked slowly, "did you come to love her—when she was like that? Weren't you intimidated?"
My father leaned back, as though the memory carried weight.
"Because," he said, "she didn't give me what I wanted."
I looked up.
"There was that time," he continued, "when I came to her wielding authority—documents, demands. I needed her seal for something that would decide the fate of an entire district."
"And she refused?" I asked.
"Yes," he said. "Not because she opposed the cause—but because I ordered her as though my title alone entitled me to her obedience."
My throat tightened.
"She looked at me," he went on, "calm and unyielding, and said something I will never forget."
His voice softened.
"'If you wish for my cooperation,' she told me, 'then stop speaking to me as though I am already beneath you.'"
Something twisted painfully in my chest.
"I was furious," my father admitted. "I told her she was unreasonable. That time was running out."
"And she?" I asked.
"She turned her back on me," he said. "And told me to find another way."
I could see it clearly.
"So what did you do?" I asked.
"I left," he said. "Not in triumph. Not in rage. But humbled."
He paused.
"That time, I realized something far more frightening than her refusal."
"What?" I asked.
"That I could have forced her," he said quietly. "But if I did, I would lose something far more valuable than her seal."
My fingers curled unconsciously.
"And what was that?" I whispered.
He met my gaze, steady and knowing.
"Her willingness," he said. "Her respect. Her heart."
The air felt suddenly thin.
For reasons I could no longer deny, a smirking face surfaced in my mind—bloodied, defiant, unbowed.
"So I returned the next day," my father continued. "Without guards. Without documents. Without demands. I asked her how she wished to be addressed. I listened. And when she said she would not give me what I needed—not yet—I accepted it," he said.
My breath caught.
"She gave it to me later," he added. "Freely. Because I no longer treated her trust as something I was entitled to."
Silence settled between us, deep and contemplative.
"She did not submit to me," my father said quietly. "And I did not ask her to. Love does not grow where dignity is stripped away."
Something inside me finally shifted.
Unbidden, the thief's defiant gaze rose in my mind.
His refusal.
His insistence—not for gold, not for freedom—but for something else entirely.
Respect.
My father's words did not give me an answer, but they pried open a door I had kept tightly shut.
Whether I was brave enough to step through it...
That, I still did not know.
* * *
I left not long after. General Voltaire was waiting, and the thief was still exactly where I had left him.
As I walked back toward the spring, the path felt quieter than before—unnaturally so. Each step echoed with a truth I refused to name.
The father's voice surfaced in my memory.
'If you wish for my cooperation, then stop looking at me like I already belong beneath you.'
That, I realized now, was what the thief meant when he said he wanted me to submit.
I had dismissed it as insolence.
As arrogance.
As defiance unworthy of respect.
But my father's words pressed deeper.
Love does not grow where dignity is stripped away.
I stopped walking.
My fingers curled slowly into my palms.
I had offered him authority. Threats. Leverage.
But I had never offered him respect.
Not truly.
Because doing so meant admitting I was not above him.
That he had the right to refuse me.
That thought chilled me.
The thief did not want submission born of fear.
He wanted acknowledgment.
Equality.
And I—I wanted him to bend first.
Just once.
So I wouldn't have to.
I lifted my gaze to the dark, star-filled sky, my breath shallow.
I understood it now.
Why he refused to speak.
Why he smirked when I stood my ground.
Why every negotiation felt like a challenge rather than a transaction.
He was not asking me to kneel.
He was waiting to see if I could step down.
And the most terrifying realization of all—
I did not know if I could.
* * *
When I returned, I told the General he should rest in his hut. We parted ways, leaving me alone with the thief.
A cloth gagged his mouth, rendering him silent—yet his eyes were more than enough. They mocked me openly, boldly, as if the chains binding him were nothing more than decoration.
I stood before him, brows furrowed.
Even restrained, he carried himself as though we stood on equal ground. As though chains could not elevate me—or diminish him.
I felt that.
Slowly, I reached out and removed the cloth from his mouth.
"La la laaaaa! La la laaaa!" he immediately burst out, singing at the top of his lungs.
I said nothing.
I simply stared as he sang with reckless enthusiasm, clearly attempting to assault my ears.
The noise continued—off-key, shameless, relentless.
Unmoved, I placed something wrapped in cloth in front if his face.
"La... la...?" he trailed off, then stopped completely.
He sniffed it.
His eyes widened.
"Is that what I think it is?" he asked, stunned. "Food?"
"Yes," I replied flatly, meeting his gaze.
He let out a dramatic sigh.
"There is food," he said, glancing at his chains. "But how am I supposed to eat? I'm tied up. Unless you plan on removing these," he added with a shrug.
"You think I'm an idiot?" I said. "The moment I unchain you, you'll escape."
"So," he said brightly, "you're going to feed me?"
"I have to," I answered awkwardly. "I could also choose not to."
His brows shot up. "How shocking! A high and mighty noble feeding a lowly commoner like me? What happened to you? Are you finally lowering yourself?"
"Do you want me to feed you or not?" I said coolly. "You can insult me all night if you wish. Just remember—I have the power to make your hunger disappear."
"Ahhh!" he exclaimed, opening his mouth wide—fangs on full display.
I frowned.
And nearly laughed.
Wait.
Why was I laughing?
Because he looked ridiculous?
No—absolutely not.
I was only here to earn his trust.
Not because I cared.
Not because I felt anything.
I needed information. That was all.
Unlike my parents' story, my intentions were practical—strategic.
I refused to love someone whose only talent was stealing.
And yet—
As he grinned at me through his chains, eyes bright with mischief and something dangerously alive—
I could not deny it anymore.
This was not a battle of strength.
It was a battle of pride.
And somehow, impossibly—
He was winning.
"Where is my food?" he asked.
"Can you stop rushing me?" I snapped irritably as I unwrapped the bundle of cloth in my hands.
Inside was a single leg of meat—grilled to perfection, the skin crisp and glistening. I had stolen it from the kitchen back home before leaving, a quiet crime I hadn't planned on justifying to myself.
I brought the meat closer to his mouth.
He bit into it immediately.
And the moment the flavor hit him, he shouted.
"Woooh! This is incredible!"
I frowned at him. Hard.
"Don't be so dramatic," I said. "It's just food."
"What do you expect?" he replied cheerfully. "It's delicious. And I'm starving."
I said nothing and fed him again.
It was strange—feeding a thief like this. Stranger still was the way he tore into the meat with his fangs. Watching him eat felt less like feeding a man and more like tossing food to a beast wearing human skin.
"Why do you have fangs?" I asked.
He tried to answer while chewing.
"Stop," I ordered immediately. "Swallow first before you speak. Have some manners."
"Even when eating?" he said, still chewing.
"Do you want me to keep feeding you or not?" I asked.
He swallowed at once.
"I don't know why I have fangs," he said. "But it looks good, right?"
He opened his mouth deliberately, his tongue brushing over the sharp edges of his fangs as if to emphasize them.
I made a face of disgust—though, in truth, I was more surprised than anything. I had never seen anyone like him before.
"Food?" he asked innocently.
"Tch." I brought the meat back to his mouth.
He bit down again.
This time, he looked straight at me while he chewed.
"Stop staring at me," I demanded.
He swallowed before answering, a smirk curling on his lips.
"I thought you wouldn't come back with food," he said. "I was starting to think you'd abandoned me."
"Don't misunderstand," I said coldly. "I'm not softening toward you. I'm doing this because I need something from you. Remember that."
I fed him until the meat was gone.
Only then did he felt relaxed slightly, looking satisfied.
"Fine," he said. "I'll tell you what you want to know."
"Oh?" I crossed my arms. "And what do you want in return? Aside from making me kneel and bark like a dog."
"Untie me," he said, grinning.
"No!" I shot back. "Do you think I'm stupid? You'll just run. You're a nightmare to catch!"
"Did I say I'd run?" he asked calmly.
I blinked.
"I told you earlier," he said, his tone suddenly serious. "I won't leave you alone now."
I frowned, unsure whether that was supposed to be a promise or a threat.
"Stop messing with me," I said. "And how am I supposed to trust you won't escape the moment I untie you?"
"I'm thirsty," he said suddenly like changing the topic.
"What?"
"Water," he added, as if it were the most reasonable request in the world.
I looked around. The spring nearby murmured softly, its water clear and cold.
I sighed through my nose. "Wait here."
"As if I have to go somewhere else." he answered.
I tore a wide leaf from a low branch, folded it carefully, and filled it with water from the spring. When I returned, I held it up to his lips.
He drank slowly.
Deliberately.
I watched his throat move as he swallowed, his eyes never leaving mine—sharp, unreadable, far too amused for someone tied to a tree.
When the last drop was gone, he exhaled contentedly.
"So," he said lightly, "you're my servant now? Feeding me. Giving me water."
"Don't push your luck," I replied. "I'm only doing this because I need something from you."
He smiled.
Then—
"I need to pee," he said.
I froze.
"...What?"
"I need to pee," he repeated. "Now."
"Now?" I snapped. "Of all times?"
"Yes." He tilted his head. "Unless you want to untie me."
I glared at him. "Nice try."
"Then help me," he said, utterly unbothered. "It's urgent."
"You are unbelievable."
"You're the one who tied me up," he replied pleasantly. "This is your fault."
I stared at him, weighing my options.
All of them were terrible.
"...Fine," I hissed. "But don't get any ideas."
"You'll untie me?"
He grinned.
"No!"
I reached for the opening of his trousers and tugged it down, deliberately turning my head away as if that alone could save my dignity—doing only what had to be done, and very pointedly nothing else.
The sound that followed made my ears burn.
"Ah," he sighed the moment he started, the unmistakable sound of his peeing hitting the ground. "Thank you. I've been holding that in for a while. Swswsw..."
"What are you saying?" I demanded, horrified. "Are you casting some kind of enchantment? What is swswsw?"
He sounded genuinely puzzled. "You don't do that when you pee? It helps. Makes everything... smoother."
"I absolutely do not," I snapped, mortified. "And I can assure you, it is something I will never do for the rest of my life."
He hummed, entirely unbothered. "You can try it when you are alone."
I stared resolutely at the opposite side, questioning every decision that had led me here.
"This never happened," I muttered while closing my eyes, annoyed.
I was more humiliated than him to be honest, but this unavoidable already.
He laughed softly. "Now it did, and it will be etched in your head forever and ever."
When it was finally over, I stepped back at once and straightened his clothing with brisk, irritated movements—tugging fabric into place as if I could erase what had just happened through sheer force.
"Happy?" I demanded.
"Very," he said easily. Then, with infuriating curiosity, he added, "What about you? Don't you need to pee—"
"No," I cut in sharply. "What I need is answers."
He studied me then, truly studied me. The amusement in his eyes faded, replaced by something quieter. Sharper.
"Answers about what?" he asked.
"Your name," I said. "And where you came from."
He scoffed. "Funny. A noble suddenly caring who I am."
"I'm not asking as your superior, and I don't care about you," I said, forcing the words past my pride. "I'm asking because I refuse to bargain with someone I don't know."
Silence stretched between us.
Then he smiled again—but this time, it didn't feel like mockery.
"If you want the rebels' secrets," he said calmly, "I'll tell you."
"And your name?"
He shook his head. "That stays with me."
"Then this ends here," I said flatly.
"Then we make things difficult for each other," he replied with unsettling ease.
Before I could answer, footsteps crunched behind me.
He glanced past my shoulder and smirked.
"Well," he murmured, "looks like I won't get to talk with you for a while."
I turned—
—and my breath caught.
Five figures stood behind me, cloaked in black, their hoods pulled low over their faces.
"Who are you?" I asked cautiously, my hand tightening at my side.
"We are here to take the thief," one of them said.
I glanced back at him. "Are these your friends?"
"Friends?" He scoffed softly. "I don't have any. I'm alone. But come closer, I will whisper something."
Then I leaned closer, he lowered his voice to a whisper meant only for me.
"Those are the rebels you're looking for," he said. "And I think they're here to retrieve what they want from me."
My throat tightened.
"The top-secret treasure I stole from them," he added proudly, still whispering.
I swallowed.
"We won't hurt you, Lord Rowan," one of the cloaked figures said calmly. "We only want the thief. He possesses something that belongs to us. Stay where you are, and no blood will be shed."
I looked at him again.
The thief was grinning—wide, unapologetic—his fangs gleaming as if this were all a grand joke.
As much as I hated this wretched, infuriating creature, the realization hit me like a blow.
If they took him, he would be gone.
And somehow—against logic, against pride, against every sensible instinct I had—
I was already stepping in front of him.
I couldn't believe it.
I truly couldn't believe the words that left my mouth.
"No," I said, my voice steady despite the chaos in my chest. "Back off."
The rebels stiffened.
"This thief is mine."
"Yours?" the thief echoed softly.
Then he chuckled.
End of Chapter 49