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

3: "Soul Connection" with a Perverted Princess

Varese, Wendlyn.

One day ago.

Rowan

His other form was inconspicuous enough that Rowan often shifted into it for reconnaissance missions.

He had travelled as a white-tailed hawk to the capital and used their spies' reports to locate the princess. It didn't take very long; a  blonde girl lazing on a red rooftop at the height of noon was easily found from his vantage point.

All that left to do was confirm that it was indeed Aelin Galathynius, and then kidnap—ehem, "convince" the girl to go to Mistward and train.

If it was indeed Aelin Galathynius, she should be able to detect any magic cast around her, so Rowan could not simply send his magic out to her or fly closer without being detected. He had to wait until the wind blew the other way and sent her scent towards him. So Rowan settled on a nearby chimney to observe his prey.

The girl was filthy and covered in dirt and grime. Her long blonde hair was dull and limp, the braid sad and pathetic. Her blank, lifeless blue eyes stared up at the sky. If Rowan didn't see her torso moving with each breath, he'd have thought she was dead.

Ten years ago, Maeve had tried to locate her missing neice; she had coveted the powerful child for her armies. In fact, the only reason his queen kept sending Evalin Galathynius invitations to Doranelle was so that she could keep Aelin trapped there.

Every few years, their contacts would find girls who matched the Princess's description. Ashryver eyes, golden hair, or a girl the same age with the scent of embers. The last report was about a year ago, a sighting in Oakwald forest. Then nothing, for an entire year, until now. Personally, Rowan had thought Princess Aelin dead, the rumors nothing but false hope of the conquered people.

But Maeve's hunches often proved true. And the girl here did possess an uncanny resemblance to the Ashryvers. Rowan wondered why she was here. Did she come to seek her mother's kin? She hadn't approached them so far; Maeve would have been informed otherwise.

The vagrant girl on the rooftop looked nothing like a princess, even one in hiding. Especially one who was rumored to be raising an secret army in Rifthold with the late Princess Nehemia. Rowan cocked his head. Perhaps the nobles harboring her had given up hope of reclaiming Terrasen and sent her here to live as a common woman.

The girl was still lying on the rooftop, staring at the cloudless sky. Her complete lack of movement was a little disturbing. As though the she had somehow heard his thoughts, the girl turned and stuck her tongue out at him.

A powerful female indeed, to have discovered him even after he carefully concealed his magic. Rowan would have to bring this woman to Mistward, whether she was Princess Aelin or not. He started to shift, planning to introduce himself, and then the wind shifted, carrying her scent to him.

Unwashed body, steel, cheap wine...but underneath it all, the maddeningly wild and powerful scent of Jasmine, lemon verbena, and burning embers—a true Galathynius. And Rowan's heart stopped beating as something in his soul came to life. Something that should be long withered and dead, because she was dead. Dead and gone for two hundred and twenty-t—

"—IMPOSSIBLE!" Aelin Galathynius's banshee-like scream summarized his thoughts. "You—" She was standing straight, an accusing finger pointed at him, red rimmed blue eyes wide with disbelief. 

So it was not just his imagination. She had felt it too. The mating bond. Rowan didn't move. If he was in his true form, he was sure he would have done something stupid now. Like take her and run away to another continent far, far away from Maeve. Speaking of Maeve...he felt as though she had some involvement in this situation.