Of Witches And Wolves | M. Helvar ✐

16 | Take Me Instead

Matthias wanted to be anywhere but on Ravkan land. He felt the tension between his friend and... The Darkling. He was staring right at him, the mythic Grisha was real. It was like seeing a storybook come to life but there was a dangerous feeling in the air.

The hairs on the back of his neck were raised in anticipation as Rowan bartered for Matthias... for some reason.

"I can find another. Someone better."

The connotations were clear to Matthias. But he didn't want to think like that. If Rowan were also his enemy then he would be alone... in Ravka, thousands of miles from home. A home in which would not welcome him–but rather slaughter him upon his return.

The Darkling spoke but Matthias wasn't listening, he was staring at Rowan with a growing understanding of what they just said.

"Another?" He spat out, eyes wide with anger as tears began to blur his vision.

Rowan spun around, eyes equally as sad as his. "I can explain, I promise, please–" Matthias harshly pulled away from their extended hand. "Matti–"

"Another?" He said again, body burning with unspent energy as he balled his fists at his side. Matthias could see how tense Nina was but he didn't care all he could think was how stupid he was. How could he trust a Grisha? Let alone a useless one? "Another?!" He was shouting at them.

Unable to think past what that single word meant in this situation. Another Drüskelle boy–taken from his homeland and painted red with the blood he too would soon shed.

"You lied."

They were crumbling in front of him, tears pouring out of their eyes as he said nothing more. The anger within him suddenly made exhaustion pull him down toward the ground. Matthias furrowed his brow before looking at Nina who was obviously trying to subdue him. When he stepped toward the girl, he dropped onto the deck.

He was not unconscious, just paralyzed it seemed. Rowan dropped to their knees in front of him and began shouting at Nina to help him.

"Please, Rowan, stop it! Just let him go!"

They shook their head, "I promised! I promised I'd protect him, please, Kirigan, spare him! Take me instead!" And then they fell to the ground in front of him.

Blue eyes met brown, they were both physically still but Matthias could see the inner turmoil and worst of all–the pity in Rowan's eyes. The last thing he needed from them was pity. It wouldn't help either of them now.

The other grisha stood a few feet away, the man looking particularly wary of the situation. Matthias guessed he was Jensin, Rowan's older brother based on their similarities. Jensin's eyes kept passing over his sister and Matthias, conflicted.

"General Kirigan, what is going on?" The female grisha asked, her blue eyes were such a contrast to her dark hair.

A tiredness began to wash over Matthias as his eyelids drooped awkwardly.

The Darkling shook his head, but Matthias could not see the man's expression from his position on the dock. "I had expected more from you, Ms. Yulianova." The Darkling kneeled beside Rowan, lifting their face carefully.

He felt a flash of anger upon seeing The Darkling touch Rowan. "Hmm, that's funny." Those empty black eyes were staring at Matthias now. "Nazyalensky, bring the cart, will you?"

"Of course, sir." Jensin glared at Nazyalensky as she turned around and left the group.

"Zenik," Matthias tensed as The Darkling turned his attention to the girl, "Thank you for your help. You're excused."

Rowan was still openly crying, tears stained their cheeks and pooled beside their face on the wooden planks. Their supposed best friend gave a curt nod and left them, following after the woman.

"Jensin, leave us."

Rowan's brother held his ground, "I'm sorry, sir, but I can't do that."

If anyone was sicker of this game than Matthias, it was The Darkling. He scoffed and shook his head, "Yulianov, that is an order from your general." He flitted his hand toward Jensin.