My Mate Can't be a Bird! (I swear I'm not into that kind of stuff)

2: Loony

Calaena

Her weapons were missing. It felt like there was hay in her mouth, and she felt ropes around her ankles, and the steady breathing of someone inside the room. Calaena would have just either gotten up and beat the shit out of them or gone back to sleep but then she remembered. The male. Her mate. He might be the one inside the room. She didn't even know his name.

It was time to observe her surroundings. With the skill born of nearly a decade of cruel and inhumane training, Calaena opened one eye, just a little, enough to see but not so much that the other occupant of the room could detect it without careful observation.

The silver light of a full moon shone through open windows. It was a clear night, and a cool breeze swept through the curtains, bringing with it the scent of pine and snow. Calaena could make out the outline of a table filled with gleaming weapons and a fireplace. Faint music and laughter seeped through the wooden walls. She shut her eye. This seemed to be an inn.

"You're awake," a voice rumbled.

Calaena hadn't even heard him move. He was looming right over her, arms crossed and, she noted, conveniently blocking her path to the exit. Glowing green eyes stared down at her, reminding her of a panther in the night. She'd forgotten that fae eyes shone in the dark.

Calaena opened her mouth to reply and coughed. There was some foul, prickly thing in her mouth—hay?! Rutting seriously? The dry prickliness and horrible taste of the hay almost sent her retching. Oh, gods! She leant up on her elbow, hacking and coughing and spluttering, till all the bits of yellow gods-damned grass were expelled to the ground.

Well, she thought, sitting up, he probably thinks I'm a horse now. There goes my second impression.

Her mate's mouth was twitching slightly, as if he was fighting to keep himself from laughing. His high cheekbones stood out in the low light.

"I dunked you in the nearest trough," he said, eyes glinting with malicious amusement, "my eyes were watering with the stench and grime."

Calaena felt her face grow hot and hoped there was enough grime left on her to conceal how red she had become. It seemed her mate shared her sense of humor.

"What's your name?" Her voice came out in a hoarse whisper.

"Rowan."

"Not a man of many words, Rowan?" Calaena responded immediately, feeling a true smile tug at her lips for the first time in months. Rowan didn't reply, choosing instead to lean back on the wall and observe her, not a trace of emotion on his face.

"I'll take that as a yes, then."

Rowan. She rolled the name inside her mind. Rowan, like the tree which was said to keep evil away.

She wanted to apologize for the state she was in, tell him he probably deserved better. Rowan was clearly someone of importance; if the power emanating from him wasn't proof enough, then the quality of his deceptively simple-looking weapons was. Rowan was an extraordinarily powerful male fated for an extraordinarily powerful princess—a princess who no longer existed, because she died in the Florine river ten years ago.

She should tell him, that he ought to find someone else. Because she'd fail him, with the way she was now. She knew from depths of her soul that she'd fail him.

The thought sent pure terror rushing through her.  Calaena tried to sit up fully...it was hard to breathe; there wasn't enough air. The room spun out of focus. She tried to sit up further, vaguely aware that for some reason her legs didn't want to move.

Eventually Calaena calmed down,  sitting on the bed with her head in her hands, and forcing herself to take even, regular breaths. She realized that her mate had not moved from his station. Good. Good, that he'd seen her for what she truly was, and not come to help. She could feel her eyes burn with tears. It stung, that he hadn't helped her, but it was probably better this way. She was the worst kind of lowlife, one who wouldn't even know how to look after her own.

When her breathing was steady once more, Calaena braced herself and looked up into those bright green eyes. She didn't know what to say, or even if she should say anything anymore. Her mind worked so slowly, and she could feel a headache begin to form from the wine.

Just as Calaena thought she would have to wing it and blurt something stupid and unintentionally scathing, the fae male spoke.

"Aelin Ashryver Galathynius,"

Her true name.

Calaena flinched.

There were ropes around her ankles, she remembered. Perhaps her mate was angry that she'd so spectacularly failed his expectations of her, and now he had decided to murder her for it. A fitting end for a piece of shit like her. And yet, she weighed her chances of running out the door or jumping out the window.

"My Queen," Rowan continued, gazing unblinkingly at her as one hand casually brushed against the hilt of his dagger, as though he knew what she was thinking, "has requested your presence. Can I expect your cooperation?"

What luck, then. There she was, lost on leads, and her gracious matchmaker of an Aunt sent her her mate to accompany her to Doranelle. "Yes," she replied.

"Good," Rowan turned and opened the door. "We leave in a quarter of an hour." He turned back to her with a warning in his eyes. And the windows and doors are currently shielded by me so don't even think of running.

The door slammed shut behind him.

Calaena was still for a moment before jumping up and almost falling to the floor. That buzzard! He didn't even undo the ropes around her ankles!

A/N: Rowan you naughty buzzard, don't leave your wifey tied up on the bed like that xD!

Do you think our vain assassin will be able to free herself and get ready in only fifteen minutes? There's a plot twist coming soon, do you see it yet? :3 Leave an answer in the comments!

Shoutout to AshFae for the lovely review. ily <3 

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