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If she didn’t know any better, she would think that Dr. Whitethorn sounded skeptical of her as he asked if she was sure she had a fever. His fingers were cool as they kissed against her skin, rubbing circles behind her ears as he checked her lymph nodes. Aelin shrugged, supposing it wasn’t a lie if she didn’t verbally lie. There had been no fever, no physical ailments. In fact, she’d awoken feeling quite good that morning and had to cough her way through begging the receptionist to work her in with Dr. Whitethorn.

“Aelin,” he sighed and rested his hands on either side of her legs, fingers splayed wide. “If you don’t tell me what’s going on, I can’t help you. I’m not going to skirt around an issue and send you off with antibiotics for you to build resistance to. So tell me what’s wrong.”

Aelin’s head tilted to the side slightly almost like a predator assessing prey. Her blue eyes bored into his green ones. It wasn’t the first time that she’d thought about how handsome he was, about how she’d like to muss his hair with her fingers while he sent her over the edge over and over. He was far more handsome than she let herself think about most of the time, because school girl crushes on her doctor would do nobody any favors. But with his tattoo peeking out of the collar of his shirt and reappearing to curl over his fingertips, he was downright hot. He was also frustrated with her at the present moment, and she could read it all over his face. It only made her think he was hotter.

Aelin could almost hear him telling her to stop wasting his time, he had other patients. And maybe that’s what he would have said next, but her eyes caught the way his eyes flicked down to her lips briefly. At least, she thought they did. Then again, there was no way her hot doctor had the hots for her.

“I need to talk to you about my father. Well, my father, his super secret spy cadre, magic. There’s a list.” she said finally, pressing her lips into a thin line. Rowan pushed off the table and dropped down onto his stool, whatever moment they might have been having clearly lost. She really was losing it. “I know you worked for him.”

“You scheduled an emergency appointment with me to talk about Rhoe? You have my phone number, Aelin. You can call me and we can meet up somewhere that I’m not trying to actively save lives.” Aelin waved her hand dismissively. There was no life saving at his private practice. It wasn’t like she’d gone to the ER on a night that she knew he’d be working.

It wasn’t like the numerous times when she’d gone to pit fights and called the hospital before to make sure Rowan was the doctor on call. If she was going to have to be seen by someone, she was going to make sure he was at least easy on the eyes.

“You’re my doctor, how was I supposed to know you’d be interested in having coffee with me to talk about anything other than the stupid shit I manage to do to my body?” The good doctor sketched a brow, lips tugging up at the corners.

“You make it sound like you’re going to take me out for coffee and try to steal my virtue after.” If, and only if, she wasn’t mistaken, it sounded like amusement lacing his words. “I’m more than happy to talk to you about the work I did for your father.”

“No to the date then?” She tried. Aelin was only half joking, but he didn’t need to know that. Especially when his answer was an eyeroll as he stood and reached for the door handle.

“I’ll see you later.” With a shake of his head that she could only assume was disapproval, he left her sitting there alone. It was a good thing she’d been healthy today, otherwise Dr. Whitethorn might just be the worst doctor ever.

~*~

Lazily swirling her fingers around the rim of the cup of hot cocoa she held, Aelin sighed as she watched the dimming sky. Marshmallows covered the top layer of the delicious liquid, melting together into one sweet and creamy glaze that didn’t fail to leave a white mustache behind with every sip. Soft music played through the cafe speakers and from different places around the room she could hear soft murmurs between friends and lovers alike. The clicking of keys echoed through the room as college students worked tirelessly on essays or business men typed up last minute emails. Every time the whoosh of the door sounded, her eyes raised, expecting the doctor to walk through the doors. It took what felt like an eternity, but finally it was his familiar green eyes that met hers across the room and, upon spotting her, crossed to slide into the booth across from her. Rowan ruffled his fingers through his silver hair as he leaned back in his seat and flashed her a grin. It occurred to her all at once that she’d never seen him out of a lab coat, and that she would very much like to see more of him like this.

“Dr. Whitethorn,” she greeted, locking blue eyes with his. Rowan cocked a brow and his lips formed a hard line.

“I really wish you’d just call me Rowan,” he said flatly.

His face showed no sign of emotion whatsoever as she bit her lip and shrugged a shoulder. It seemed she was entirely unable to keep her nerves at bay. Nerves of what, she wasn’t sure. Something about the setting and the man sitting in front of her had her leg bouncing anxiously under the table. Maybe it was fear of finding out things she wasn’t ready to hear, maybe it was just the sharp lines and structure of his face as he looked at her with nothing forgiving on his face. There was something, though, about the slight crease between his brow, or maybe it had been the way he had been painfully attractive to look at when he’d smiled at her as he slid in the booth. Either way, there was a blush creeping up her neck that had her eyes dropping to her drink.

“Well, Rowan.” Aelin exaggerated his name, drawing out the vowels in a way that had his eyes crinkling as though he were trying to fight back a smile. She wished he wouldn’t. “I want to know what you know about the work my father was doing. Fenrys doesn’t know much, the internet knows less. So much doesn’t make sense to me but I don’t really have anyone else to turn to. I want to know what they were looking into.” Rowan’s eyes met hers and his lips formed that hard, thin line again.

“I’ve… had a theory,” he began, knuckles turning white from how tightly bound his fists were, “that your accident wasn’t an accident. That Connall’s wasn’t either. Sam and Connall knew more than the rest of us did. A few days before your accident, Aelin, your father mentioned that there was something he wanted to bring to the table. He never got to. Connall was a wreck the days after, and then he ended up dead, too. Same semi-truck, same car accident where the driver fled the scene. I don’t know if anyone else has ever thought so, but it’s always struck me as bizarre.” As he spoke, the blood was draining from her features. Suddenly she felt very dizzy and she laid her hands flat on the table to give her some sort of anchor to the real world. He thought they were murdered? Rowan was quiet now, or if he’d kept talking she hadn’t heard a lick of what he said. When she looked at him, met his eyes, he was giving her the space to process and think. Aelin frowned.

“You think they were murdered for it.” Not a question.

“I think they were murdered because they uncovered something, maybe something to do with magic disappearing, that they weren’t supposed to and the wrong — or right — people found out,” he said. “For your sake, I’ve held off on looking into it. I didn’t want to be wrong, I didn’t want to bring it to you if I couldn’t back it up somehow.”

“Why tell me now?”

“Because you’re asking. Because it means you found something in the bunker and if you didn’t find something insanely weird about any of it, you wouldn’t be asking me in the first place. But you’re curious. You’re not fine with what little information Fenrys could give. You have the same curiosity your dad had, I’ve known that for as long as I’ve known you.” Aelin had been aware of knowing Rowan since she was nineteen. That was when their interactions had started. She was curious to know if he had known her for longer, though. It took a beat, but Aelin finally nodded because he was right. He was also right about the deaths not being accidental. At least, she hadn’t thought so since Fenrys had brought up his twin’s accident. It was just almost jarring to find that someone else agreed.

Aelin poked the marshmallow foam on the hot chocolate and licked it off her finger, quietly processing what Rowan had told her he suspected. Something hadn’t seemed right to her. For her parents, for Sam to keep something like this from her, there had to be a reason. There had to be something more to it, to this life. The only reason Aelin could think that her would-be fiance and her parents would keep something like this from her was to keep her safe and protected. Maybe the people that staged the accidents didn’t even know that Aelin was still alive to uncover whatever legacy had been left behind. She never went back to school and had ended up slumming it. Hadn’t taken up her title as Lady of Orynth. It would have been easy to miss it, to overlook that maybe she lived.

Again, her foot bounced anxiously as she looked over the table at a man that had perhaps known her family better than she had. Rowan was watching her intently.

“Will you help me look into this? Dig into it more? I don’t want to take it to Fen yet. I don’t want to tell him his twin was murdered if he wasn’t. I don’t,” she sighed and rubbed her eyes with her thumb and forefinger. “I don’t want to do it alone, either.” But Rowan was already nodding, had started nodding as soon as the question had left her lips. He was willing to help her no matter the cost. It almost made her eyes burn. “I want to search his private study at the manor. See if there’s anything on his computer. I doubt there is, but we can always go back to the bunker after.”

“I have files of my own that I can bring over, let you sift through. I can take a half day from the practice on Friday. Give us the weekend to work through everything,” he suggested, eyes locking with hers. For some reason that she chose to ignore, her breath hitched in her throat.

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he repeated, quietly, softly. She paused, tapping her hands to the table once before she stood and nodded a thanks and goodbye to him. “Aelin?”

“Yeah?” She turned, her golden hair tumbling down her back as she looked down at him.

“Be careful,” he said, voice low. One of his hands was half outstretched as though he wanted to brush their fingers but thought better of it. Aelin bit her bottom lip but nodded and tucked her hands into her pockets before stepping out onto the street.

With the sun setting, it was beautiful. Had she not just found out that her parents may have been murdered, it would have been the most beautiful sunset she had ever seen.

~*~

Leaves danced around her feet as she trudged toward the doors and she made a point to stomp on them just for the satisfying crunch of dead leaves and snow. A train screeched not too far-off in the distance behind her, the vibration of the locomotive rattling her bones with every step she took. The whirring of metal on metal as it thundered past, whipping up its own biting wind, had the ends of her hair slapping her cheeks with a stinging ferocity. The proximity of the train to the gym was something that annoyed her on a regular basis. Every time they rolled through, it broke her concentration by rattling the windows and quaking the floors. It never failed to startle her out of her skin when they blew their horns.

Upon entering the gym, the smell of sweat and musk that hit her nose caused it to wrinkle. Fists were punching bodies and bags, the sound of metal on metal as weights were dropped back onto their racks filled her ears with a certain melody that could only be found in a gym. In her time going there, she had seldom seen another woman come to this side of town to work out. She wondered if that would be different if they knew what the gym owner happened to look like, though.

Fenrys was nowhere to be seen, so she tossed her bag into one of the cubbies against the back wall and moved to the hand-weights to begin her normal routine. She zoned out entirely, counting the repetitions and sets over and over, doing her best to not focus on the aching in her right hand. By the time she’d finished her typical arm day routine, sweat was beginning to drop down her temples and the dip of her spine. She moved to the treadmill, ready to start cardio after doing a few leg stretches, and settled into an easy jog.

It was a good half hour before Fenrys walked into the gym. He was tying his golden curls up into a knot on the top of his head as he laughed about something. When he was out of the doorway, Aelin noticed Rowan’s silver hair bobbing along behind him with a slight grin on his lips and his eyes light with amusement. Fen winked at Aelin when they passed, Rowan offering her a smile she couldn’t remember having seen before. He must have been in an incredible mood.

Both of the massive ex-military men disappeared into Fen’s office for a while, and when they returned they were both wrapping their hands in white tape. It looked like, to her own amusement, they were getting ready to fight each other. Luckily for her, she’d picked her favorite treadmill which happened to be directly in front of the fighting mats. Aelin watched with an emotion she could only relate to as glee when they bumped fists and settled into fighting stances. Rowan rocked onto the balls of his bare feet, shaking out his arms and hands. She watched as he rolled his neck a few times, the clicking sound of bones popping giving her goosebumps over her arms. In a swift and easy movement, he pulled his shirt up and over his head and her mouth went just about bone dry.

His tanned skin was more muscular and perfect than she could have imagined. Rowan looked to be made of nothing but raw muscle, or maybe he was even just made of marble, she couldn’t be sure. Every dip and curve of his body, his abdomen, seemed to be nothing but pure art. Perfect was the only word for him, beautiful the only other word that finally dinged when her brain started making coherent thoughts again. In some ways, she found him to be more beautiful than Fenrys, which was absurd.

The tattoo that she had only seen a preview of took up the entire left side of his chest and arm, covering his skin in a way that accented every single thing about his body. It was stunning, the way the words and markings twisted around every curve of his form in the Old Language. She found herself itching to wander closer, to run her fingers over the lines and learn everything it said from start to finish. His eyes caught hers the same time she went to lick her lips and she was immediately sporting a blush that started at her chest and rose to her cheeks. Aelin’s feet stumbled and she nearly tripped off the treadmill entirely. Gods above, she really wasn’t kidding about that date now.

Rowan didn’t even have to look back at Fenrys to stop the oncoming blow. It was too easy for him to knock his fist out of the way while still making eye contact with Aelin. Then, though, he re-focused on the task at hand and they started to really go for it. Watching them fight was like watching two people dance. They moved in an odd synchrony with the other, the way two dancers might dance a pas de deux, the way an orchestra would rise and fall with its conductor.

The longer they fought, the more their bodies glistened with sweat. She kept running, not breaking pace until the treadmill began to slow down on its own. Her six miles were up.

Aelin stepped off after the cool down period, shaking her arms to loosen her body as she did. Then she stepped onto the edge of the fighting mat, watching the two men punch, block, and kick each other. They moved smoothly and quickly, so much that she managed to miss some of the hits entirely. Gods, they were fast. So fast that she didn’t even register one of Rowan’s hits that had Fen stumbling back a few paces. Quicker than lightning, Rowan was on top of Fenrys, who tried to get his legs around Rowan but failed miserably. The doctor made a low, hoarse laugh as his thighs wrapped around his sparring partner’s neck, tightening until Fenrys swore and tapped out.

Rowan was grinning like a fiend when he hopped to his feet, helping Fenrys back up shortly after. Fen was glowering at the other man, breathing heavily as Aelin began a slow clap while she walked toward them. There was a reason, she realized, that this man was a legend among men.

Up close, she could see scars lighter than the rest of his skin that showed just how that legend was created. One in particular that was nestled in the left line of his Adonis belt looked like a gunshot wound and something twisted in her gut. Several others could have been from knives, shrapnel, cats, who knew. Aelin lifted her eyes to his to find that, once again, he was watching her, too. To avoid the awkwardness of how thoroughly she’d been assessing his body, she poked the rounded scar with rough edges low on his waist. Her fingernail scratched his skin, and a slight smirk worked onto her lips when gooseflesh erupted over his torso. She looked up at him.

“What’s that from?”

“I got shot on a deployment to the Wastes,” he said, eyes not leaving hers.

“Someone wanted to play hero. I had to drag his ass to cover so he didn’t die,” Fenrys was grinning at the memory. Rowan merely shook his head.

“Let us not forget the time that you played hero and without my ass, you’d be dead, boyo.” Rowan punctuated his sentence with a jab to Fen’s ribs and Aelin snorted.

“Are you ready to train?” She asked, addressing Fenrys as she adjusted her ponytail but he shook his head.

“Actually, I was thinking you could train with Whitethorn today.” Aelin and Rowan both looked at Fenrys with surprise gleaming in their eyes. Rowan shrugged the same time that Aelin blurted a “What?” in response.

“He’s just going to criticize everything I do anyway,” Fenrys said, and Rowan nodded in agreement. So Aelin turned on her heel to look at Dr. Whitethorn, teeth grazing over her bottom lip as she did.

“Well then, Rowan,” she drug out the syllables of his name like she had the first time she said it, like she was still getting used to the way that it fell off her lips. “Shall we?”

“Not until you get that arm in your sling.” His fingers lightly touched the elbow of the hand he had so carefully reconstructed, and Aelin knew that he would be pissed if he knew she’d done weights before he had arrived at the gym for the evening. Was she overusing her hand? Yes. Did it hurt? Absolutely. Was she going to stop? Definitely not. But to save herself from an argument that she would only end up losing, she walked over to her gym back and retrieved the sling from its depths. Rowan had walked over with her and carefully helped her adjust it to her body, his fingers brushing against her bare skin below her sports bra. It wasn’t the first time he had ever touched her there, but it was certainly the first time that fire had erupted over where his fingertips kissed her skin. Aelin swallowed, narrowing her eyes at Fenrys who shrugged and dropped down onto the bench at the edge of the mat.

She turned back to the doctor, who was brushing his hair back off his forehead. Aelin shook her free hand, bouncing back and forth on her toes while she waited for a swing that never came. He merely shook his head and walked to stand behind her.

“Your legs are good, but hold your body from here,” he murmured, breath stirring the loose strands of hair by her ear. A slight shock shot through her body as he pressed his hand flat against her stomach, silently telling her to draw her strength from her core. Aelin nodded, and he moved to stand in front of her. A slight inclination of his head told her he approved of her stance.

“I told her that,” Fenrys grumbled behind them, causing Aelin to shoot him a glare. He had most certainly not told her that, and the amusement on Rowan’s face told her he knew that Fenrys hadn’t, either.

The lesson went on, different than anything she’d done with Fen. Where Fenrys would critique what skill she already had, Rowan took the time to correct her form or tell her how to make certain moves more effective. He encouraged her to kick at him full force and he perfected where her foot made contact at his side. When he’d stumbled back, he grinned widely at her.

“Good, good. Keep throwing your whole body into it like that.”

By the time they called it quits, the sun was setting and her body ached. When she got home, she submerged herself deep in a tub of boiling water and epsom salts to ease the pain.

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