10. Rowan

10

ROWAN

R owan rushed down the stone stairs of Wolf's Keep and through the ornate gates, checking over her shoulder to make sure Conor hadn't followed.

The path to town seemed to stretch on endlessly. Her heart pounded and she wished there were markers to let her know how far she had to go. Fear coiled and uncoiled like a snake in her belly.

Conor hadn't directly said that he didn't kill Orla.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as she felt the eyes of the monsters of the forest on her. She had the strangest sense that there was almost nothing holding them at bay. The usual symphonic pulse of the Dark Wood's magic had ceased once again.

The wood was nearly silent. There was only the whisper of leaves begging the breeze for mercy.

She hurried her pace, wishing she hadn't left Cade with Aeoife.

A loud crack sounded behind Rowan. She spun, hands uselessly held out in front of her, as if she meant to punch someone. Her eyes darted to the left, where the sound had originated, but she couldn't see anything in the velvety darkness. She turned back and continued down the trail faster. Another crack behind her sent her into a sprint. She tore down the path, praying to the Mother that the lantern light of the trailhead would soon come into sight.

The cold night air viciously burned her lungs. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears as her boots pounded the forest floor. There was a distinct and horrifying sound of heavy footsteps behind her.

Rowan ran as fast as she could, but nothing seemed to put distance between her and whatever pursued.

Her mind spun. If the Wolf had discovered that she knew about Orla's cloak, he could have been coming to stop her from sharing what she knew with the elders. The only weapon she had was the lantern in her hand. It suddenly felt foolish to walk through the woods at night with nothing to defend herself.

A loud screech cut through the air, chilling her blood. It was more a screech than the howl of a wolf, but she didn't dare turn to look.

Claws closed over her shoulder and something barreled into her. She screamed as her attacker tackled her. Her bones creaked beneath the weight of whatever monster landed on her. She fought to draw in another breath and whispered a prayer to the Mother.

Rowan searched, hands clawing wildly at the damp earth. Her lantern had landed a few feet away, and she was utterly defenseless. The beast screeched again. She winced as hot, rancid breath and spittle hit her cheek. Tears streamed down her face, and she closed her eyes, too choked with regret to scream.

A brilliant light cut through the dark, and her eyes shot open. The light pulsed, blinding and golden.

The beast screeched, and its weight shifted off of Rowan. The relief was instant. She drew in a deep breath as she squinted against the light. One last guttural screech split the air, and then, the beast was gone in a blur of horror and claws.

Rowan tentatively pressed herself up to her hands and knees, brushing her sweaty hair back from her forehead. She turned to see the source of the light.

Standing in the center of the trail stood a beautiful, ethereal woman with bright blue eyes and blonde hair so radiant it looked nearly white. She wore a gown of golden silk so fine that it rippled in the whisper of a breeze.

The Mother .

Rowan stared, slack-jawed, completely in awe. She'd always thought that the elders lied when they claimed the Mother appeared to them, but here she was. Rowan wondered if she'd hit her head in the fall and was imagining it.

She blinked her eyes rapidly.

"You're not dreaming," the Mother said with a playful smile.

Rowan's lips parted in shock, and she shifted to her knees, crossing her hands over her heart and bowing her head. "Goddess."

She was shocked when a hand came to her shoulder. "Are you all right, dear?"

Rowan nodded in a speechless stupor.

"Can you stand?" the Mother asked.

Rowan took her hand and slowly rose to her feet. "Was that the Wolf?"

The Mother shook her head. "Just a beast of the Dark Wood."

Rowan brushed dirt from her dress before meeting the Mother's eyes.

"Rowan Cleary." The Mother smiled at Rowan's surprise. "You thought I wouldn't know the name of our newest brave Maiden?"

Rowan shook her head violently.

"I know what you think," the Mother began. Her voice was soft and lilting like a pleasant lullaby, in sharp contrast to her magic, which sounded like a dizzying, dissonant symphony. "You think I don't care about you, but I assure you it's very much the opposite. You don't know how many times you didn't feel me when I walked beside you. I've been there since you were a baby, so loud and vibrant and wild even then. I was there when you first started seeing spirits. I've been there for everything."

"Why are you just showing yourself now?" Rowan asked.

The Mother cocked her head, her blonde ringlets bouncing with the motion. "Because you're not a sacrifice, Rowan. You're a weapon. I need your help."

Rowan choked on a startled laugh. "What?"

"You're a weapon . I know there are flaws in the way they taught you. Unfortunately, speaking to the elders has its limitations. They force my words through the filter that occasionally distorts my true meaning."

Rowan's fatigue and the impossibility of the situation slammed into her at once. Her mind felt sluggish. "Then why not find a better filter? A better scribe?" She hadn't meant to sound so accusatory.

The Mother laughed. "I gave them more power, hoping they'd help our people grow and thrive in my light. It was foolish of me to add other players and expect that they wouldn't hoard what power I gave them. I thought they'd help support my people better, but they've focused solely on making themselves integral to the faith. That is why I need your help."

"Me?" Rowan squeaked.

The Mother nodded. "I have little time. It's hard for me to stay corporeal in the Dark Wood since it's not my realm. Walk with me."

She held out her elbow, and Rowan threaded her arm through.

"I know that this is a lot to take in," the Mother said as they walked toward Ballybrine. "You are very important. You must stay alive and survive this term, and you know what is at stake if you don't."

"Aeoife," Rowan breathed.

The Mother smiled sympathetically. "Yes. I know you care for her and I want to protect both of you. As you've seen, this blight is a problem. It's spreading toward town, and I don't know how much time we have to keep death from spreading to the land of the living. That's where you come in."

"But what can I possibly do to stop that? Please don't tell me to entice the Wolf into bed like everyone else," she sighed miserably.

The Mother winced. "Not exactly. It's not so simple. The Wolf is gaining strength, and his power is stretching past the boundaries of his realm. The blight has spread to Ashand Orchards."

"It has?" Rowan's mind spun. It had to have been recent—there was no way Finn wouldn't have mentioned his family's orchards were blighted.

"Just to a few trees, but it's a bad sign. I'm sure you don't need to be reminded that the Ashand farmlands are where most of Ballybrine purchases their produce. That's why, unfortunately, we need you to act with some urgency."

They'd reached the end of the trail. Rowan saw Finn sitting slumped against the door of Maiden's Tower, his head lolling.

The Mother followed her gaze. "I understand you've stolen the heart of the future Lord of Ashand."

Rowan blushed and shook her head. "Not intentionally," she murmured. "I don't understand. What can I possibly do to stop the blight?"

"You can kill the Wolf."

A hysterical giggle bubbled up from Rowan's chest. "Me? I don't know how to fight. He's much bigger than me. How could I?—"

The look on the Mother's face stopped her instantly.

"You mean seduce him," Rowan said miserably.

The Mother stroked Rowan's cheek tenderly, and a flood of tingles lit her skin. "Child, the Wolf's power is tied to the bargain, just like mine. The Crone ensures that the bargain is sustained, but you are the token of the bargain. You can be a sacrifice, yes, one that gives the Wolf power, but you can also kill him."

"How?" Rowan asked.

The Mother sighed. "There's a little-known scripture. It's ancient, and they have ignored it. Unfortunately, the elders prefer for you all to feel powerless, so they exclude valuable scripture that speaks to your power, much to my disappointment."

Elder Garrett's face flashed through Rowan's mind. "Why not pick new elders?"

"Because change moves slowly. The elders are stubborn as mules."

"But you're the Mother," Rowan argued.

"And I gain strength through worship. I'm struggling. Rowan, this religion to the north affects me as well. My power is waning as the Wolf's is growing stronger. I gain power and influence through the prayers of the faithful, and if I challenge the elders, they could easily turn on me. They've learned from the men who are spreading the new religion how to strip women of their power and ensure they keep the upper hand. These are delicate times for me and the people of Ballybrine. It's easier to believe in death when your life is so touched by it. It's much harder to ask for blind faith."

A tempest blew through Rowan's mind. It was too much to take in. She was too tired, too scared, too lost. Her gaze fell back on Finn, where he dozed against the tower door, his golden-brown hair falling over his forehead.

"How can I kill the Wolf?" she asked, turning back to the Mother.

Light flared in goddess's palms and a golden dagger appeared. A strange ringing sound pulsed from the blade. "You're a weapon, Rowan. The moment that the Wolf is taking from you, he's vulnerable. That is when you strike. That is when a victim becomes a warrior."

"You mean…" Rowan's voice trailed off.

"This blade plunged into his heart as he takes your virtue will end him," the Mother said.

Rowan took a step back. "He'll kill me. How am I supposed to get a knife into bed with us? Won't he be suspicious?" she asked. She pictured herself ripped to shreds by claws.

"Offer him some blood," the Mother said. She laughed as Rowan scrunched her nose in disgust. "It's an old custom to show trust and intimacy. It's a bond. It will also allow him to sense your feelings and make what's between you more intense and intimate. Trust that he will find it very enticing."

Rowan turned the dagger over in her hand. "So I bring this blade to bed, let him cut me and drink my blood. How much? What if I pass out?"

The Mother laughed softly. "It's very little blood—only a drop or two. When he's finished, I expect he'll be quite ravenous for you. He won't be able to resist. Just keep the blade nearby, and when the moment comes, it just takes a simple strike right here." She brushed her fingertips over Rowan's ribs. "If you press in here and drive up, you'll hit his heart."

Rowan swallowed hard. Could she really murder someone, even if he was the god of death? "What if I miss?"

"Don't miss," the goddess said with a gentle smile, as if it was that simple.

"And if I succeed, it will fix the blight?"

The Mother nodded.

"But what about the balance? Won't things go wrong if I kill the god of death?" Rowan asked.

"I have the power to replace him with a new god of death."

The Mother made it sound so simple, but Rowan was still skeptical. Gods didn't grow on trees as far as she knew, and she'd spent her whole life learning about the importance of balance between the realms.

"How?"

"Death is the pause before life. I'm the goddess above—the Mother of all life—and I can elevate another to take over. Best of all, we can strike a new bargain. One that doesn't require sacrificing a young woman or the rule of elders."

Rowan's jaw dropped. "Is that even possible?" Hope swelled in her chest. She hadn't even considered approaching the Mother to change the bargain because she did not know how to. Now she was offering exactly what Rowan and Aeoife needed.

"Of course it is. If there's a new god of death, I'd have to make a new bargain with him. He may even be so grateful to be elevated to power that the souls could be led by a group of huntsmen. Do this and the possibilities for your future and Aeoife's are endless." The Mother's gaze flitted to Finn. " Anyone you desire."

Rowan flushed. "I don't know what I want. I've never had a chance to want anything but the chance to live."

"Well, now you do. You have a week to figure it out. Here's a sheath. You can keep it on your thigh, and that way you'll have it if you run into issues with any of the elders as well," the Mother said. "If you show them the dagger and its markings, they will know to remember that you are a sacred vessel."

Rowan didn't know why she still felt hesitant. The goddess was offering her everything she'd never let herself want. Maybe that was the entire problem. Rowan's father used to say if something seemed too good to be true, then it was, but she didn't need to trust the Mother to know this was her only viable option. Conor had been proven a liar the moment she found Orla's bloody cloak. Her back was against a wall, and any option that didn't mean her certain death sounded good, no matter how far-fetched her success seemed.

"I'll do it," Rowan said.

The Mother cupped her face tenderly. "I knew you'd do what's right. You have a good heart. I'll keep you safe as much as I can in the Dark Wood. You shouldn't be disturbed by a monster like that again. You have my blessing with that dagger. Be safe. Be courageous. Be decisive. And, of course, keep this our little secret. I'm sure you're eager to trust someone, but until we know where everyone's loyalties lie, it's not safe. We wouldn't want the Wolf to find out, and people talk."

The goddess kissed her forehead, and Rowan didn't know why it brought tears to her eyes. Her faith always felt fleeting, but now she felt a renewed reverence.

"I have to go, but I'll see you soon. In the meantime, think about what you want," the Mother said.

Rowan nodded. Between one blink and the next, the Mother disappeared in a flash of brilliant golden light.

Rowan stood suspended between the trail and the town, staring down at the goddess-blessed golden dagger with the power to end all of her suffering.