Isabella had grown accustomed to the colour of blood, to its particular smell and the meaning of such a sight; for being a neophyte required one to adapt.

Although most of her work consisted on following Louise around as she healed whoever walked through their wing, or taking notes of Dahlia's words as she told her about different plants and the perfect way for mixing them in order to create a wide number of brews whose preparation needed to be precise, otherwise one could end up making a potent laxative instead of a standard painkiller. Rose, on the other hand, had opted for a different kind of approach to teaching her the ways of healing. She had given Isabella books for her to read, homework for her to do, weekly exams, and a click of her tongue when her answer did not meet her expectations.

What had surprised her the most about the female, however, had not been her strict educating, but rather her association by bloodline. Allsbrook. The first time she had heard the surname, it had rang a bell in her mind, but it was only after several weeks of training when she realised the connotations to the female's blood.

A small -for Fae's standards-, and lanky -for Fae's standards- young male had entered the tent carrying a leather bag strapped to his chest. Isabella noticed the way all the healers perked up at his sight, but there was no recognition in her wit as she studied his features. He had thick tawny curls, and constantly upturned amber eyes with a fair complexion filled with freckles to match. And despite the fact that she was used to the size of Rowan's frame and Lorcan's height, she noted that the male had broad shoulders he would probably grow into.

"Luca!" Rose was the first one to cheer.

Isabella remembered having read about him in the books, but her memory was blurry, and she could not recall much of him. Based on the way his pointy ears were slightly more curved than some of the others, she could tell, however, that he was a demi-fae.

Luca's cheeks grew a colourful shade of red as he was under the focus of all the healers. He gently vowed to them, and quickly averted his eyes as he rummaged through his bag.

"What have you got there for me?" Dahlia called from her place where she leaned sideways on the table.

"Nothing, I fear," Luca responded, nervously glancing from one female to the other. "But," He added, as he took out three envelopes from his bag and handed two to the Head of the Healers' Wing. "These are for you, Lady Louise" Even his neck was dangerously blushing as he handed her the letters.

Isabella did not fail to notice the slight grimace on the female's lips as she heard the way Luca called her.

She was also sure she had never heard anyone refer to Louise as Lady.

"And this one, is for Lady Rose" He finished by giving her the last letter.

Dahlia scurried to her side, and tried to peer over the female's shoulder. "Is it from your brother?"

"Yes!" Rose smiled widely, ripping open the envelope to read its contents.

"Is he still posting in the Anascaul Mountains?" Dahlia asked, pointedly trying to read the smaller female's letter, even as Rose tried to hide it from her view.

"Last I heard, yes"

"Is your grandfather still trying to marry him off to Remelle?"

"Ugh, yes"

"I wonder if one day he'll succeed"

"I hope not!" Rose said, her tone harsher than Isabella had ever heard from her before. "I shall ask the Gods for a sister-in-law who does not have a reputation for not understanding the meaning of the word no "

"Perhaps you should ask your grandfather to redirect his efforts to another eligible female"

Rose grunted, "As if I hadn't already tried. It's unfair that she is not held ac-"

"Uh-" Luca started before coughing awkwardly as all pairs of eyes refocused on him. "I shall take my leave, now" He nodded, then vowed. Then nodded again, and walked nervously out of the tent as the healers thanked him before his figure disappeared.

"He's adorable" Dahlia murmured, like a mother would speak about her child. The others mumbled their agreements.

A stretch of silence followed as Louise and Rose read their respective letters. The former with a deepening frown as her eyes scanned the pages, and the latter with a widening grin that ended in a squeal of happiness.

"Ren is coming to Banjali" Rose exclaimed with utter joy.

"Congratulations" Dahlia said from her place back on the studying table.

Louise blinked. "He's coming? Here?" Isabella was taken aback as she could not recognize the emotion behind the female's voice. "Why?"

"Apparently there's been a royal decree that ordered all high ranking nobles and officials to gather here" She shrugged as she finished speaking, not at all bothered by the politics of it.

"Ren Allsbrook is coming to Banjali, I should warn all the eligible unmarried fae in camp, I know many of them would love to try to steal your brother's heart" Dahlia called.

Ren Allsbrook. The title spiked a memory in Isabella's mind. She mentally cursed herself for not realising it sooner. He was yet another real life who Sarah had taken upon her hands only to transform him into words on paper for her own amusement. She could now recall that he had been described as a rebel from Terrassen. A human. But that was yet another differentiation from this world, for Rose was a pure-blooded Fae, and so must be Ren.

Murtaugh had been the name of his grandfather, whose depicted old age had not stopped him from joining the rebellion group against Dorian The First, a possessed king. Based on the healers' words, she could only guess that characterization was, at least, honest to reality.

Isabella had a gnawing feeling that there was something she was forgetting, but whatever it was, was as thin as mist, it vanished before she could grasp it.

She convinced herself it must not have been important if she could not remember it. She had, after all, books to study, and only a long night ahead.

-

Rowan tried not to stare too fervently at the figure quietly sprinting through the woods. He also tried to ignore the not-so-slight pang of pride at the subtleness of her steps as she moved. She had learned to master it quite fast.

The small, tranquil flapping of his wings was barely above a whisper as he flew from one branch of the tree to another. His shadow was a follower of hers; the moon and the Gods of the night their only audience.

The figure stopped as she reached the centre of the forest. A circular field surrounded by trees, knee-high grass, and heavy darkness that even the stars struggled to fight tonight.

His sharp senses, his extremely keen eyesight was the only reason why he could still see her despite the blackness of the night; and it was the small tear in a jar that permitted her to fight the gloom on her own.

It was, perhaps, the simplest of things. Yet he couldn't help but find her to be brilliant.

Rowan repeated to himself for over the millionth time that he was merely following Isabella to make sure she was safe, to be convinced that she was not suffering, to quiet his doubts about her persona; and not just because he wanted to be sure that she was not secretly sneaking at night to meet with another male.

It was a possibility that there was truth in all of his excuses.

Still, he shook his featherly tail in agitation as he observed her. She placed the flaming tear on the earth as she rummaged through her bag and finally took a book out of it. He recognised the familiar sight of it, even if he couldn't really comprehend its importance to its fullest. He noted she had no pen with her -not even the one he had gifted her-, nor ink. He inclined his bird-head to the side as he studied her. Sometimes his animal form felt realer than his humanoid body.

Isabella sat on the grass, and the length of it partly hid her from his view. He instinctively cursed, but instead a chirping sound came out. Luckily, she was too engrossed in her own mind to realise that no normal birds made a sound as distinctive as his when he was in his hawk form.

He used his claws to make his way to the furthest side of the branch to try to see her better but he came to an abrupt stop as he heard the sound of rustled dry leaves, of another person's tread. Rowan positioned his body in such a way that he was ready to fly and claw the other person's face in case it was necessary, but instead, almost fell from his place in the tree as the incoming person came into view.

It was a male, whose auburn hair and fine-boned face left an ugly taste in Rowan's mouth. He felt bile rising as he called for Isabella.

"You are late" She told him, absently as she remained in her place on the floor.

He was fully nauseous as the male laughed and brushed Isa's accusation with a shrug. "Sorry, I tasked with kitchen duty tonight"

"Mhm,"

"How is it that you never have kitchen duty?" There was a level of comfort and familiarity in which they communicated that had Rowan's claws tightening their grip on the branch.

"The perks of having powerful friends"

"It's kind of unfair"

"You are just jealous"

"Oh, yeah . A lot"

Isabella's lips curved into a smile as the male joined her on the floor. He was close. Too close to her. And Rowan could not even remember the male's name. He had a vague sensation of seeing him before, but he could not remember for the saintness of Anneith who he was.

Rowan flapped his wings, once in the air, he left. He forced himself not to look back. He had seen enough, and there was a heaviness in his chest that was now tearing him down; it was a struggle for him to remain straight as he flew. He felt like someone was, once again, clawing at his chest in the same way he had been ready to claw at the male's face.

He shouldn't have invaded her space. He shouldn't have followed her. He shouldn't have seized her privacy without her consent.

But now he knew why she left every night.

And it was fine. He was fine.

So so fine .

-

"Why are you torturing the life out of that poor paper?" Lorcan said. He leaned on the doorway, his arms crossed against his chest, and an eyebrow raised in order to emphasise his question. "I would warn you about paper cuts but where would the fun be in that?"

His friend was inside the castle, in a room decorated with tapestries -both new, and old, ones that had been repaired countless of times- that told the story of the Crown, of battles, and of the only lineage who had a blood claim to the throne. The fact that Rowan, his brother, was one of them was an aspect Lorcan sometimes forgot.

But as his gaze took in Rowan's form, from his silver long hair, to his athletic build, in an office that told the history of a kingdom he could rule if he wanted to...it was quite surreal.

At his words, Rowan looked down at what had once been an important report, but was now a crumpled paper fisted in his hands. He threw the forgotten document on the wooden desk next to the window where he was looking through and rubbed his temples.

Lorcan took a step into the room, a bit closer to his friend who appeared to be in the middle of a crisis. He didn't really need to ask who was the cause of it, and yet..."What happened to you? You look as if someone had forced you to watch two cows fuck"

To his surprise, Rowan didn't rise to meet his banter with feigned annoyance. He merely shook his head and proceeded to rub his jaw, his eyes still locked on the window.

Since his familiar type of distraction didn't work, Lorcan joined his side and looked down at the grounds through the window. He used the force of his will to keep his expression as blank and detached as possible as he saw a group of soldiers training in sword combat. Fenrys was guiding them, positioning elbows where they should, correcting holds and barking orders when needed.

Although it was different for himself, he found nothing of interest to Rowan.

"What are you looking at?"

The air around them dropped a couple of degrees as Rowan clenched his jaw. He pointed to a male outside with a nod of his head. "Do you know him?"

He looked away from the source of his attention and tried to find who he meant. "Who? The blond?"

"No, the one next to him"

Lorcan recognised the male his friend meant. "Ah, yes. He's Vinhen Singleblair"

That had Rowan's head turning in his direction, both of his eyebrows raised upward in surprise. "Singleblair? Is he Essar's son?"

He nodded, "The one and only"

"Does he know you used to be his mother's lover?"

He groaned in protest. "Don't remind me" He looked at him from the corner of his eye, and noticed he appeared to be more animated now. "And I really hope he doesn't"

"If you got back together with Essar, would he have to call you dad?" Rowan had the audacity to joke. "Maybe he'd call you daddy"

Lorcan punched his friend in the guts, but not as strongly as he deserved for such a joke. Unbothered by it, Rowan burst out laughing. The fucker. He had come in here to try to help him lighten his mood, and this was what he got from being a good friend.

"I'm leaving" He announced, but Rowan stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't."

"Why?" He asked, honestly surprised. Entirely curious. And knowing that he would stay regardless, because he was weak when it came to his brothers.

Rowan's face sobered, and looked him dead in the eye as he said. "I need my Daddy Lorcan"

"You asshole " He shook his hand off his shoulder as his friend enemy laughed at his expense. "I'm never talking to you again"

"Aw, don't be like that" Rowan managed to say in between laughs.

"I knew I shouldn't have befriended you all those decades ago" He muttered.

"You would be lost without me"

"Whatever" He pretended to be annoyed for a little longer before asking. "Why did you want to know his name?"

There was honesty in the glooming of his demeanour as Rowan looked down at his tattooed hand as he opened and closed his fist. "I made a mistake and now I'm facing the consequences of my actions"

Give it to Rowan to be incredibly vague and mysterious. "What exactly did you do?"

"I saw something I shouldn't have"

"So you are a creep. What's new?" He waved a hand dismissively.

The hawk sighed as if asking for patience. "I don't think you realise how similar Fenrys and you are sometimes"

Lorcan's body tensed at that. "We are nothing alike"

He saw all the things left unsaid in Rowan's eyes, all the things his friend knew despite the small bits of stories Lorcan had shared with him. In that moment, it scared him to see the reflection of his true self.

So he diverted the topic. "Is this about Isabella?"

Rowan noticed his intentions, and respected them by looking back through the window. "When isn't it?" He asked, his timbre low and thoughtful. "Sometimes I feel like I am nothing if not merely thoughts of her"

"I understand" He did. Painfully so.

"I think she is having something with Vinhen" Rowan confessed, and Lorcan knew him well enough to pick up the tint of pain in his voice.

"What makes you think so?"

"She's been meeting him every night. In the woods. Just the two of them"

"Well, that sucks" And it was awkward and complicated as fuck. "Are you going to do something about it?"

"I shouldn't"

"But will you?" He pressed on.

"I have no right-"

"That's bullshit. If you wish to be with her then work for it. Fight for the opportunity. Woo her, I don't know" Lorcan knew it was hypocritical of him to say those words, and although he wasn't sure who they were for; he was absolutely sure he didn't want his brother to ever feel like Lorcan did every day.

Unrequited. Unchosen. Broken. Lonely.

"What should I do, then?" Rowan sounded exasperated. Desperate. Lost.

"Flaunt your ass around, flex your biceps, walk shirtless and show off your abs. Learn more about her, I don't know! Just don't let time and the opportunity go by. Mortals are not eternal, but heartbreak and regret are"

His friend blinked. Once. Twice. He seemed surprised and taken aback by his outburst, but he nodded anyway. "You are right"

"Damn right I am"

Rowan's expression turned into one of disbelief and joy as he suddenly laughed to himself. "Who would have thought I would end up taking romantic advice from you?"

"Fuck, not even the Fates would have seen this coming" Lorcan joined in in his brother's laugh.

"And who's the kid's father? Essar is not married and I can't remember her having a lover" The hawk asked after some time.

Then, Lorcan told him a secret.

-

Rowan tried to ignore the beating in his chest as he finished oiling his skin. He considered different poses that would highlight his physical qualities the best, but he couldn't decide on one.

If he lay sideways on the bedroll and held his head with a hand was a good option, but Isabella knew he never went to bed this early. He could lean on one of the poles on the tent and pretend to read a book with one hand, but all the books he had were for Isa, and he didn't want to have to lie to explain that. He contemplated sitting on a chair and resting his forearms on his tights, but he knew his best quality was his ass, so he wouldn't be really showing it off if he was sat.

In the end, he was standing awkwardly in the middle of their tent when Isabella came back. She was startled by his presence. "Oh, you are here early. Did something happen?"

Rowan shook his head. He saw the way her eyes travelled from his chest -greatly exposed by his purposely unbuttoned shirt- to his legs -that were accentuated by a pair of pants that was, intentionally, tighter than usual-.

He didn't bother to hide the smirk that formed in his lips due to the pleased sensation that seeing her eyes dilating and her cheeks reddening at the sight of him caused inside of his chest.

"Were you going to go to the dining room now?" He had it all planned, they were going to go together and then he was going to ask her if-

"No" Isa groaned as she walked deeper into the tent. She threw herself on her bedroll and made a sound of pain as she moved her muscles. "I'm too tired"

Well, his plan had just gone to hell. But it was instantly forgotten, and replaced with concern. "You cannot skip meals"

"Just this one, I'm too tired. I can barely move"

"Are you sore from training?" He frowned. "I thought you had lessons with the healers today"

"I did, and they mentally drained me. I just want to sleep"

Rowan crossed his arms over his chest. "I will get you food and you'll eat it. You need the energy"

"No-"

"I'll be right back" And he did. It took him less than five minutes to gather two plates and bring them back to their shared tent. Isabella rolled her eyes at the expanding pleased grin on his face. He handed her one plate, and kept the other for himself.

"Thank you. You shouldn't have" She told him between bites.

Rowan merely nodded. He ate his food, but couldn't deny that he was mostly making sure she was eating enough. He could still remember the state in which he had found her, how thin she had been, the way her bones stuck out and her skin was sickly pale.

Although she was still a bit underweight, she had managed to gain both fat and muscles. Her skin was now golden with tan and her cheeks rosy with life. Truthfully, it was sometimes painful how beautiful and healthy she was becoming.

"I wanted to ask you something"

He let his plate aside and did the same with hers when she was done. He gave her his sole attention.

"Do you know why the Queen wants to gather all the nobles here?" At his expression, she added. "I heard it from Rose who was told by her brother"

Her question took him by surprise. He had only found out about the Queen's decree because many high ranking officials had sent letters asking him why they were summoned from their posts.

"I don't, actually" Rowan confessed, and he felt his shoulders drop as he remembered all the work awaiting him now that they were to host so many new Fae.

"Isn't it a little bit...weird?" She was careful to ask.

"It is. And dangerously careless. Although all our camps and forts have seconds-in-command, it feels reckless to wish to gather so many important figures in one place. Especially after our last attack" He rubbed at his temples, already feeling an impending headache.

He had discussed his concerns with the others, and they had all agreed on the strangeness of the situation. But there was little he could do since they were all already on their way.

Isabella crossed her legs, and leaned slightly closer to him, as if confiding in him. "Do you think it could be a trap?"

"I don't think so," Rowan shook his head. "The decree had the royal seal, and if the Novyk got a hold of the seal, and consequently, of our Queen, then gathering so many nobles is the least of our concerns"

"Alright, if it's not a trap, then what could be the reason for such a calling?"

"I'm as lost as you. All I could think about is improbable -if not, impossible- and the uncertainty of my lack of knowledge worries me" He had not dared to confess such fears to his brothers, but the words had left his mouth without his consent.

Isa's eyes softened, and he didn't imagine the comfort of her hands grabbing his in between them, "That's understandable. You are not only a Commander, but also a Prince. Whatever happens, you'll always have the weight of a crown and the people's expectations and need of guidance from you. It's too much for anyone"

"I-" He swallowed past the sudden knot in her throat. "Yes" It was nothing but the truth. Rowan had always been glad of not being a King, or the appointed Heir to the Crown because he had never wanted the responsibilities; the hope of the people, the chore of politics, and the knowledge that it was not just a group of soldiers under his care, but a whole kingdom depending on him for its survival.

"I can only hope that Sellene's plans are to be good news"

"In the meantime," Isabella's hands on him tightened in reassurance. "We can always scheme"

Rowan matched her shit-eating grin with one of his own, and he felt as light as the wind as a bit of the pressure in his chest and shoulders lessened just by being held by her.

-

Lorcan should have already gone to bed by now, he had a class to give very early in the morning and scheduled meetings to discuss the course of action of the camp now that the Queen's decree was in action.

There were plenty of reasons for him to rest, but he could not do it. The idea of going back to his tent, of being in such a closed space, of being both so close and far away- He just could not tolerate it tonight.

So he joined the wilderness of the camp's forest and tried to find comfort in his isolation. The moon was shining, and he wondered if it could also remember all the moments of his memory that pained him, times when it had been his companion. Lorcan wondered if the moon remembered the shared kisses he had given and received under its light, or if it cried for him as he cried to it.

Once, Lorcan had imagined himself at home. A beautiful, small cottage in the middle of a meadow, with sunflowers and dandelions covering the earth. Inside the house, he had once imagined himself walking through the door after a long, tiring day of work only to come back to the arms of his lover. He had even pictured the way he would have kissed his lips and cup the back of his neck as he tasted his tongue on his.

The kiss would have led to them smiling against the other's lips, -because he could never not smile when he was close to him- and then Lorcan would have told him about his day. His lover would have chit-chatted about everything and anything, and then Lorcan would have insisted on preparing their supper and to have it outside.

He would have made his favourite -sugar cubs, red tea and very sweet scones- all while his lover continued talking, because it was difficult to shut him up. And they would have enjoyed the last rays of sunshine in between bites and kisses that tasted sweeter than candy.

As the day ended, Lorcan would have played with his lover's hair, mesmerised by its colour and shine, and then he would have trailed his hand down his jaw and neck, and he wouldn't have had to hide the pleased smile as he felt a rising heat emanating from his lover's body as he touched him.

They would have shared more kisses, tongues against the seam of their lips, a teasing bite to his jaw, and the sound of his lover's sighs would have been like angels singing to his ears, all while Lorcan's heart thrummed with happiness; with a kind of joy he had never experienced before, with a sense of belonging that was not tied to a land but to his lover's heart.

But there was no point in dwelling on what could have been, on the what-ifs. He knew he was not even a passing thought to his once lover, and he lived with the pain of it as a wound that would never heal.

"I'm so pathetic," Lorcan muttered to himself.

Truthfully, he could not remember a time in his life when he had not despised himself, but such feeling was intensified in nights like this. Nights when he dreamed awake of what could have been his life, but would never be. Nights when he wanted to tear both the world and himself apart.

He knew it was his fault, the fallout of his ideal kingdom of heaven.

Rowan was not the only one suffering from a broken heart, but Lorcan could only hope his friend's ending would be blissful, unlike his.

-

"Can you tell me again why I need to be blindfolded?" Vinhen asked, tiredly -and annoyingly- as Isabella tightened the fabric she was using to cover his eyes.

"Why do you need me to repeat it? I was clear in my explanation"

"You weren't!" He accused, indignantly.

She hadn't, but she was not going to admit it. Isabella smacked him in the shoulder. "Don't be asking questions or I'll find somebody else"

Vinhen sighed, as if both defeated and mad. " Fine "

Isabella nodded despite the fact that he could not see her, and sat on the floor in front of him. They were back in the woods, far away from anyone and everything, accompanied only by the wild and its secrets.

She began preparing her materials: the Answering Book -that's what she was now calling the gift from Killax-, different kinds of herbs and brews she had acquired, a mortar made of stone -that she had stolen from the kitchens- and her glinting knife.

She unsheathed her knife, grabbed it with one hand and a pen with the other. She scanned the pages of the book she had left it opened to, and then reread the notes in the margin that she had made herself.

"Ready?" Isabella said in warning.

"Not really"

"Okay" She didn't give him time to dwell on it before she sliced her knife through his inviting flesh.

"Ouch! I said I wasn't ready" His voice was too loud for her liking, but she noticed the lack of real anger behind his words.

"You wouldn't be here if you weren't ready. You are just too much of a crybaby" She couldn't help but roll her eyes at him. They had begun their testing meetings a week ago, and still he pouted about it.

Isabella eyed Vinhen's arm, and the wound inflicted by her hand. It was a long, vertical cut -she had decidedly avoided any important vein or artery- that went all along his forearm. She waited until exactly five minutes -two more than last time, and until the blood had stained the earth under them-. In the meantime, she reviewed in her mind the wyrdmarks she wanted to try tonight, and read the results of their other sessions and the results of the tests she had done on herself.

Isabella was experimenting. She had already tested most of the wyrdmarks from the book on herself; it had involved a lot of cuts and pain inflicted on her body, generally done repeatedly to study the different variations of the effects depending on the time it passed from the moment of the lesion, its place on her body and depth, and the time it took for the magic to be effective.

Consequently, her body was now more scared than it used to, there were bruises on her body from different types of injuries she had given herself to test the wyrdmarks that were still too fresh on her body. It was embarrassing for her to even show a bit of the skin where she had examined the outcomes of the magic.

Some of the lesions made it even painful for her to move, but it had been worth it. Because now she knew how to wield them as a shield, and how to use them as an attack.

All throughout her learning, she had repeated -almost chanted- to herself:

discere est dolent

to learn is to ache.

She had found comfort in the words, and strength when the ache had been too much.

But her research had come to an abrupt stop the moment an idea entered her mind. It had come from all the brews she had learned from the healers. She wanted to mix herbal medicine with wyrdmarks. She was not sure if it was even possible to transfer the magic to a liquid or paste, but once the thought had occurred to her, she could not let it go. The possibilities if her idea was successful were endless.

Vinhen had joined her in picking up herbs very often, and after one offer from him and a lot of anxiety and desperation to test her theory, she had informed him that he could , actually, be of help.

Isabella had then decided that she wanted to test certain wyrdmarks on a magical skin, and compared the results with the ones extracted from her own flesh. She had blindfolded him from the very first lesson, because the existence of wyrdmarks was secret, and a weapon of hers she shall not reveal. Nobody could know about it.

Vinhen was convinced she was only using him as a body to solidify the concepts she learned as a neophyte. The lie had rolled easily of her tongue when she had fed it to him.

But now, finally, she was going to be able to attempt mixing a wyrdmark with a healing brew.

She was quite euphoric about it.

"How much longer am I supposed to keep bleeding? Or is this your attempt at murdering me?" Vinhen mumbled.

"If I wanted to murder you, I would be quite more exceptional about it" She responded, absently. She was counting the minutes in her mind while writing the beginning of the process in the book.

"So, bleeding to death is not quite your cup of tea?"

"Is it yours?"

"No, I'd rather live"

"I think that makes you a part of the minority"

There was a stretch of silence that she barely registered as she began preparing the healing ale. But Vinhen broke it with a murmur, "Why do you say stuff like that?"

She stopped the movement of her hands, the grinding of the herbs, she even held her breath as the question took her by surprise. "What do you mean?"

"Haven't you noticed? Sometimes, the things you say, the way you speak, is as if you wanted to- well, die"

Isabella dropped her hands on her lap as she mulled over his words in her head. "No, I hadn't noticed. Nobody had ever mentioned it before"

"But do you?"

She blinked. "Do I what?"

"Want to die"

It took her quite longer than the normal person to answer, but when she came to a conclusion, it felt more like an achievement. "No. I don't think I do anymore"

"That's good" He told her softly, despite the awkwardness she felt.

"I suppose"

"May I ask-"

"No" She cut him off by opening his wound a bit more so she would be able to thoughtfully pour the ale once it was ready. She knew what he was going to say, and she had no intention of hearing it.

There were more important things to do, and she had to focus on that.

The brew was mostly composed of boiled water, lashun and dhaniya. When she finished it, she used some of Vinhen's blood and a sterilised needle to draw the chosen wyrdmark on top of the brew. Isabella held her breath as she awaited for the familiar glow of the mark, but it never came.

She didn't allow herself to grow too disappointed as she then mixed it all together until the mark disappeared. She used her knife to spread the ale on Vinhen's wound. Normally, the brew would take days to fully mend the injury if it was not sped up by healing magic from a third party, but the wyrdmark alone worked as remedying magic itself. If put together...

Isabella was unaware of her surroundings, her sight was centred on the wound, and her heart hummered strongly in her chest with every counting second in her head.

Two minutes. Five.

There was no glow, no indication of abnormality, but she still bandaged the wound with the brew and ordered Vinhen to show her first thing in the morning her forearm so she could check on the gash.

She returned to her tent with distress that was fighting to extinguish the last bit of her hopes on her theory.

-

"Show me your arm"

"But I'm changing!" Vinhen protested, trying to cover his chest with his discarded shirt.

"I don't care. I told you to come to me before breakfast and you ignored me. I need to see how it's developing"

Vinhen, the fucking bastard, had done the opposite of what she had asked him to. Instead of going to her tent so she could take off the bandage, he had spent all morning stuffing himself with food and he had disappeared to the changing rooms to train before she had been able to talk to him.

Now, she was standing in the middle of the room, which was mostly filled with fae males in different states of nudity as they got ready to head outside for their first physical lesson of the day. But Isabella couldn't even bring herself to care even a bit for the other males, she wasn't interested. And they didn't even bat an eye when she entered the room. Good.

"It's fine!"

"Show me," She ordered.

"Wait outside, I'm not presentable" He squealed, backing away to one corner while trying to cover himself.

"I've seen nipples before, stop overreacting" She rolled her eyes, and blocked his way when he tried to escape. "Show. Me. Your. Wound"

Vinhen swallowed. "I swear it's fine, I can't even feel it anymore"

"Just show me the damn wound"

He sighed as if it were a chore. "Alright" He offered her his arm and she took it in between her hands with a force fueled by her expectations.

She ripped the bandage open in her haste to see what lay under. Both of her hands covered her mouth as soon as she saw his wound. Where had once been an ugly cut, now was replaced by unscarred skin. Healthy. As if nothing had ever been done to it.

Isabella looked up at Vinhen, whose cheeks were red and was trying to avoid her eyes. "It worked"

"I told you it was fine"

A loud, joyous laugh escaped her lips freely as she marvelled at the results. It had worked. That meant she could now make healing brews and expect the same results as if she were using magic coming from her fingertips. She would have to make a wide stock and still try different wyrdmarks, but the future felt bright.

"Can you leave now?"

She chuckled. "Yeah, sure." As she noted the real embarrassment coming from him, she winked. "Nice abs, by the way"

"Leave!"

Isabella left the room with a carefree sensation on her shoulders and the wish to be able to share her discovery with- she let the thought go as soon as it entered her mind. It was not a possibility, so she would not let it soar her mood.

-

In the days that followed, Isabella was only able to remain standing thanks to Rowan's insistence and control that she had at least one full meal during the day. She was barely sleeping, for her nights were reserved for studying, testing and research, and her daytime was full with neophyte's duty and training.

By the time she could finally lay to rest Rowan was long asleep and she wasn't even able to take a step inside during the day. She had realised that although her initial excitement and thrive to succeed had not weavered, she missed the little free time she used to have. She missed having lunch with Fenrys, training with Lorcan, chatting with Gavriel; and, what she longed for the most, were her secret night conversations with Rowan.

Even before arriving to Banjali, she had grown too fond of spending time with him. Of the way she could feel the heat that radiated from him and find comfort in his presence next to her. And although they still shared a tent, and his body lay next to hers on a daily basis, she couldn't help but feel like all those memories would never be replicated if time went on as it was.

So that night, when she walked through their tent, completely focused on grabbing her things to do more studies in the forest; but found Rowan already there instead, with his chest in clear view and his shirt discarded on the floor...she caved in.

"What are you doing?" It was a stupid thing to ask, for she knew exactly what he was doing, but it took her a couple of slow blinks from her part for her mind to start working correctly again.

Rowan looked up from his work at her. One of his arms was resting on his thigh, and his forearm was facing upward to his face as a thick needle hovered in the air from where he held it with his non-tattoed fingers.

"I'm strengthening the ink of my tattoos. I have to do it every few months because of my healing speed" He punctuated his words by sticking the needle on his flesh.

"Ah,"

Her almost-sighed response had him glancing up again at her with an eyebrow raised. She tried not to be distracted by the way the action accentuated his muscled chest.

"Did you know that humans don't have to do that? Just once it's fine"

"Is it? Lucky them"

"Does it hurt?" She had things she needed to do, but there was such an intimacy in watching Rowan tattoo himself that she found herself sitting close to where he was.

"Not much"

"What does it mean? Your tattoos" She already knew the answer, she had read the books, after all. But she wanted to hear the truth from him. To be confided in.

Rowan opened and closed his hand as he loaded more ink into the needle. His eyes never left his work as he answered. "It tells the story of those I love"

Isabella blinked. "Not your story?"

She saw the way the curve of his lips curved slightly upward into a small smile. He stole a quick glance her way. "No. I once considered it, but I found there was little consolation in it. So I decided to carry those I love by carrying told memories on them on my skin"

"Oh, that's quite beautiful" He shrugged before continuing his task. She leaned unconsciously closer to him, enough that -from her position sitting on the floor, and him on a chair- she had a good view of the way his hand moved as he stuck the needle, and the way he slowly and professionally wrote on his skin.

"What does this one say?" She gently pointed to his wrist. His eyes followed her movements before their eyes locked together.

"It tells the story of how my parents met" His words were said in a low voice.

"Were they very in love?" Isabella asked, softly.

Rowan nodded. "I don't have many memories of them, for I was too young when they passed away. But I do remember the way they used to look and lean against each other"

"They sound lovely"

"They were. I was lucky, I knew what it was like to be unconditionally loved from the moment I was born"

"Lucky indeed"

"How were your parents?" He pointedly kept his glance on his work instead of her, something for which she was grateful for.

Isabella hugged her middle in a way to distract herself. "They were very in love, too. And they loved my sisters and I very much,"

Rowan offered her a smile of companionship. "We are both very lucky, then"

"I suppose"

They talked about other things as he moved on from his forearm to his shoulder. She asked him more about the memories inked on him, when he confessed he also did it as a way to not forget.

"Not forget?" She repeated, confused.

"When my parents died, I moved in with my cousins and uncles and aunts. It was a big change, and there were nights when I would feel guilty for being happy despite the fact that my parents were gone. I missed them terribly, but my cousins were my family, and they loved me, too. I started to feel like my parents were going to disappear the more time went on, so I used to write all the memories I had of them in a book. Every night. I filled so many pages that I ended up having to buy more books for me to fill" It was only them in the room, but still he whispered. "When I was old enough to leave, the first thing I did was get all those memories tattooed"

"I think it is a good idea"

He smiled. "Thank you. I believe the plan is to be able to make more good memories to ink on my skin,"

"That's a great plan"

"Easier said than done, though" He joked, despite the fact that his words were true.

"Are there any memories of Lorcan, Fenrys and Gavriel?"

"Yes, but don't tell them I said so, or I'll never forgive you"

Isabella chuckled. "Why? Can't they read it, anyway? It's all in the Old Language of the Fae, is it not?"

Rowan inclined his head to the side as his eyes sparkled with mischief. "Some. Others I wrote in the tongue of thorns"

"Why?"

He stopped his movements just so he could lean closer to her. His face was mere millimetres away from hers, and the action brought memories of the only time she ran her hands through his hair as his lips took control of hers.

Immediately, her whole body felt as if lit on fire. She could feel the heat travelling from her lower stomach to her neck, and accumulating on her cheeks. They were practically sharing the same breath, and she wished for something she shouldn't have as her heart threatened to burst out of her chest.

"So they could not read it" Rowan's voice was low. The sound husky and seductive in a way that almost had her leaning forward. But his response had her blinking stupidly at him.

He leaned back with a smirk and a knowing glint in his eyes. She cursed herself for such loss of rationality and awkwardly coughed. "Very smart of you"

"I know," He replied, arrogantly.

He moved on his administration to his left pectoral, and Isabella had to force herself to look away so she wouldn't drool. The avoidance made her consider an idea that had her mind reeling in barely contained excitement.

But she forced her voice to sound almost uninterested as she wondered out loud. "Would you teach me?"

"Why?" She didn't have to look at him to know he was teasing her, and that he was smugly smiling at her. She could hear it in his voice. "Do you want to get your hands on me so badly? All you have to do is ask, you know"

Isabella made a show of rolling her eyes. He laughed at her. "Ha ha. But I am serious"

"Me too" He slightly shook his head as the last of his laughter died, but a smile remained. "Just ask"

"I just did. I want you to teach me how to tattoo"

He stared at her, "Do you? Why?"

She shrugged. "Looks interesting"

Isabella had a feeling he was pointedly avoiding her gaze as he asked. "Will you have enough time? You've been quite busy lately. I barely even see you anymore"

"I will find the time," She promised, as a way of diverting the direction of the conversation.

"It may take us many classes"

"Alright"

"Of just us"

"...okay"

"Me, teaching you"

"Yeah, that's the point

"Alright. I will"

-

Rowan was elated. This was a great opportunity for him to try and make her see him in a different light. He could not even contain the smile on his face as he finished inking his tattoos.

When they went each to their respective bedrolls -one next to the other, and he had even gotten them closer two days ago without her noticing so he would have an excuse for their bodies to accidentally brush together- he made sure to leave only his briefs to sleep.

He didn't miss the way her eyes trailed up and down his body, and he would have stood all night there if it meant her eyes were on him if it hadn't been for the fact that she motioned for him to lay.

Rowan covered the fire tear, and then they were both engulfed in darkness. Rowan listened attentively to the sound of her breathing, to the rustling of the sheets and inhaled the lasting scent of her lust that he had not imagined. Too bad she could not smell his.

"Rowan" She called, the sound barely above a whisper.

He tried not to let his hopes get up. "Yes?"

"I realised something the other day"

"What did you realise?"

Isabella took her time to answer, and in the stretch of silence that followed, he waited patiently.

"I don't want to die" He sucked in a breath, there was no air left in his lungs and he found it hard to breathe. "Not anymore"

He heard his own pulse.

"Just thought you should know, since...well, since you saw me when I wanted it so desperately I would have let death take me"

Rowan remembered. He remembered her lying on one of Killax's beds. He remembered her frail state, the way he had sat next to her bed while she was unconscious. Most importantly, he could recall as if no time had passed the way he had tried to feed her, the way he had seen her eyes lacking any will, and how much he feared she would sneak through the night to end her life.

He had been so paranoid he had slept outside her door every night. And in his despairing agony, he had resorted to trying to speak with her. He had told her things he had never even admitted to himself.

Relief was not a word strong enough for what he felt when he first saw her rise from the bed, or when he saw her take her first bite of food in days. Words were never meaningful enough when it came to her.

"I-" He swallowed past the knot in his throat. "Thank you for telling me. It fills me with joy to hear that"

In the darkness, her hand found his, and she gripped it with force and emotion that he returned with gladness.

"May I ask what made you realise that?"

"Vinhen"

Rowan was glad for the darkness, otherwise he knew he wouldn't have been able to hide the anguish from his face.

He was starting to hate the male. "Who?" He played dumb, for maybe if he did she would reveal more of her relationship with him. And Rowan needed to be prepared if he wanted to win a chance.

"He's a soldier here. I believe he's in Unit 8"

Unit 8? Would anyone blame Rowan if he sent the male's unit straight to the Novyk so he would never come back? Meh, he couldn't do that. He had morals, sadly.

"I don't think I've met him" He tried to sound uninterested. "Is he a friend of yours?"

"I wouldn't call him a friend, exactly" Oh, great. Things were getting worse and worse. "But I suppose you could call him that"

"Tsk"

"What?"

"Nothing" He hated the male.

"Hey, do you think I smell weird?"

He used his free hand to rest the weight of his head on it so he could look better at her despite the dark. "What? No"

Isabella shrugged. "Vinhen said I smelled weird. Other-wordly"

Would anyone blame Rowan if he snapped the male's neck? How dare he tell her that? "You don't. Your scent certainly is different from those from our world, but it's not weird, nor bad"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes"

"Really?"

"Yes, but if it puts you at ease, I'll check"

"What-?" She began, but her words died in her throat as Rowan leaned closer to her. His body was practically caging her as one of his hands was dangerously close to her hip, and the other he used as leverage to support his weight, exactly next to her head.

His body hovered closely above hers. Rowan savoured the moment with slowness as he moved his head so it was almost nestled in the space between her neck and shoulder. She felt her swallow. He brushed the tip of his nose from the beginning of her neck to behind her ear.

He inhaled her scent. It was maddening. Glorious. Heavenly so. Their chests were practically touching as both of their breaths were laboured. He noted that the rapid beating of her heart matched his.

"It smells quite exquisite to me" He murmured against her ear, and he did not imagine the goosebumps that erupted along her skin in response.

Rowan made a show of slowly running the tip of her nose back to her collarbone, and he dared to pretend it was an accident when his lips brushed against her pulse. "Should I continue checking? Or do you believe me now?"

"Skdj" Her response was a blur of words that made no sense, and it was impossible for him not to smile against her flesh at the sound of it.

"What was that?" He teased, even as he continued to nestle against her neck. He wondered what she would do if he used his tongue to taste her flesh, and if she would allow him to bite her skin hard enough to leave a mark.

"I-i believe you-u"

Instantly, Rowan froze in his place and stopped his administration. He leaned back and returned to his place feeling like he had ruined everything.

He couched. "I'm glad I could be of help"

Her response came a second too late. "Yes, thank you"

Rowan turned in his place and lay on his side so his back was facing her. He couldn't stomach the idea of seeing regret in her eyes. He already felt enough of it himself, for he shouldn't have rushed to tease her like that.

He had let his own selfish desires take hold of him, and now he wasn't sure if it would ruin the little progress he felt he had made that night.

Lorcan was right. Heartbreak and regret were eternal, after all.

-

Lorcan found Rowan exactly where he had days ago. His friend was looking through the window with his jaw clenched and a murderous look in his eyes.

"Is it Essar's kid again?"

Rowan's mere response was the grind of his teeth.

"Don't grind your teeth so hard or you'll lose all the sharpness of your fangs" When his brother didn't laugh, he held a tired sigh inside himself. "Did you know you are quite repetitive?"

"Look who's speaking"

"Glad to see that drowning in your own despair doesn't stop you from being an asshole"

"Agin, look who's talking"

"Tsk, I'm okay"

-

Isabella was distracted as she took notes of Dahlia's lesson. Her mind kept going back to the night before, to the way Rowan's body had felt on top of her own, and how much she had wanted he would just-

"Where is your mind today?" Louise reprimanded.

She blinked, embarrassed by the fact that they had probably smelled the change in her scent that the memory evoked in her. "I'm sorry"

"I bet you are," Dahlia told her, sarcastically.

"Dahlia" Louise chastised.

The female raised her hands in surrender. "What? I , for one, would love to know what has our little apprentice so distracted"

"There's nothing-"

"Don't lie" The girl stopped mid-sentence. "You don't have to be shy. You can share your gossip with us" She told her sweetly, in a manner that reminded her of Fenrys' wolfish eagerness that he maintained even in his humanoid form.

"I-"

"Dahlia, stopped. She's here to learn, not to gossip. If you are not going to be of help with that, you may take the day free"

"Okay" The healer said, not at all bothered by the reproach from her superior. She just seemed genuinely happy that she was taking a day off.

Louise turned to face her as soon as the female left the wing. Isabella stood awkwardly under the scrutiny of the healer.

She opened her mouth to apologise, but was stopped by the female's hand rising to signale she should not do so. "Keep it to yourself. It's your business. I don't care. I actually thought today you could attend to your first patient" Louise looked at her sideways. "Officially" She added.

"I- could I? Do you think I'm ready?"

"One's never ready until they do it. And you are quite familiar with blood already, so you should be fine"

"Oh, thank you. I'd love to" Isabella looked around at the empty tent. "But there's no one injured"

"Then we'll have to hurt someone ourselves"

Isabella stared at her superior in shock, sure she had misheard. "What?"

Louise waved a hand in the air dismissively. "It'll be nothing too serious, and if it gets out of hand I'll step in and heal them"

"But, who would be even-?"

"I'll find someone"

"But, isn't it too soon?"

Louise levelled her with a sombre look. "Have you ever heard the saying that the best warriors can feel when a war is coming, for they are connected more to the death of a battlefield than to the life of the world?"

"I-" Isabella shook her head. She hadn't. But it made sense.

"Well, I am no warrior. Not traditionally, at least, not the ones that get rewarded, anyway. But I am a healer, and I can sense that the times for when our abilities will be needed are close" The female's voice didn't waver as she spoke with a certainty that prophesied finality. "We will need as many healing hands as possible. So you must be ready"

"Alright"

Louise nodded, and Isabella tried not to think too hard on the choice of words made by the female. The way she had referred to her abilities as if she knew that Isa was preparing something; or that she spoke about the future as if she had been told of it by the Fates themselves.

She needed to be ready. So she would.

-

"I've been wondering..." Fenrys asked her that night as he walked her to her tent.

"That's never good"

"Oh, shush" He batted her slight insult away. "Did something happen between you and Rowan?"

She tried not to let the faltering in her steps show as she avoided his gaze. "No, why do you ask?"

"He's been spending too much time with Lorcan, and that's never good"

"How would that be any indication that something's happened between us? Maybe you should wonder if something has happened between them " Was she panicking? Maybe she was.

"Pff, no" Fenrys did not sound as convinced as he wanted her to believe.

She wondered..." Has something ever happened between them?"

The male looked away, but she found no lie in his voice. "No"

"Why do I feel like there's something I'm missing?"

"I don't know" Fenrys shrugged, and batted his eyelashes at her innocently. He was such a fucker sometimes.

Isabella stopped in her tracks. "Why are you acting weird?"

"Rowan would ask when am I not acting weird" He tried to distract her.

"Fenrys, what is this all about?"

"I don't know what you mean"

"You are impossible tonight"

"All nights, baby"

"Ew" She told him, even as they both laughed.

They walked the next steps in silence until he decided to break it, although it felt almost as if he couldn't help it. "Did you know that one of Lorcan's ex lovers is coming due to the Queen's decree?"

She stole a quick glance his way. "No, who is it?"

"Essar Singleblair"

Isabella remembered her from the books. She was surprised Sarah had kept that detail true. "Were they serious?"

"They almost got married"

That stopped her in her tracks. "What!?"

Fenrys looked at the sky and shrugged. "That's what I've heard, anyway"

"And she's coming here?"

"Yes"

"Is she married to someone else?"

"No"

"So she's single?"

"Yes"

"Shit, do you think Lorcan is hoping to see her and...reconnect?" She wondered out loud. "Maybe it's Lorcan who needs Rowan right now" Maybe she was also trying to create a distraction that Fenrys would believe so he would drop his idea about Rowan and her.

"Why would he need him?" The harshness in the male's voice took her by surprise.

"Love advice?"

Fenrys fisted his hands and hurried to say, "I need to go" before scurrying away and leaving her alone. She stared at his disappearing back in confusion.