24. Rowan

24

ROWAN

D read hung like a chain around Rowan's ankles as she made her way down the path toward Ballybrine. She had no idea what awaited her, but she could assume it would be gruesome.

When she finally reached the place where the trail met the town, several huntsmen and Elder Falon were waiting for her.

"Lady Rowan, please forgive us our mistake," Elder Falon said, his eyes cast downward.

Her gaze lingered on a fresh bruise on his throat. She tried to pretend it was normal for him to extend deference of that title, but it was typically reserved for Maidens who had completed their service. Elder Falon could barely meet her eyes.

"What mistake was that?" she challenged.

The elder shifted. The rush of power was heady, and she almost smiled. Instead, she kept her face placid as she looked over the men. She stayed calm until her eyes locked with Finn's. He looked stricken.

"Lady Rowan, there's something you should see," he murmured.

She walked by the elders and followed Finn into the temple. Several hunters trailed behind her. The energy song around the group pulsed frenetically. They were afraid, and their fear was contagious.

"What happened?" Finn whispered.

Rowan peeked over her shoulder. The hunters trailing them gave her a wide berth.

She cleared her throat. "The Wolf can sense people's worst fear. He sensed that mine had shifted."

"He's seen it before?" Finn asked.

"Yes," she murmured.

He silently led her into the ceremony room.

She was instantly assaulted by the coppery scent of blood, and as her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she narrowly avoided a red puddle on the floor. Blood painted the walls in bright red splotches, and on the altar, what was left of Elder Garrett made a gruesome centerpiece. His eyes bulged, his face frozen in a shriek of terror. The red silk ties he had shown Rowan were wrapped around his neck.

Rowan wasn't nearly as horrified as she should have been by the sight. A vindictive part of her she hadn't known existed until that moment took a small bit of satisfaction in knowing he'd felt fear as potent as that which he'd inflicted on her.

She met Finn's gaze, and he nodded at the wall to their right.

Touch her at your peril .

The words were written in blood on the wall above the large wooden trunk at the far side of the room.

"Well, I suppose there's no mistaking this," Rowan mumbled.

Finn looked startled by her calm. "Rowan, I think you're in shock."

She crossed the room to the trunk. She lifted the lid, and inside, she found a bunch of brown leather-bound journals. She flipped the first one open and found notes from Evelyn, Orla's predecessor.

"Finally," Rowan breathed.

"Row, how are you so calm?" Finn whispered.

"Because someone who wanted to hurt me is dead, Finn."

"How can you condone such violence?" he asked.

She could hardly breathe around her outrage. "Probably the same way you did: by telling myself it's for the greater good and assuming it's the will of the gods."

Finn's horror only made her angrier. He was so blind, and the longer he refused to look at the hypocrisy, the more her rage swelled.

Rowan had been silent and steady when she wanted to scream and fight. She had done everything they asked of her. She had given them so much and still, they wanted to take more. For so long, she'd been certain Finn could get there—that when he saw her suffering, the issue would become more personal.

Now, the realization that he would never confront the discomfort of his own complicity made her cold all over.

"What has that monster done to you?" Finn asked.

She rolled her eyes. "He hasn't done anything except give me autonomy."

Finn shook his head. "You're so cold now. What happened to the sweet girl that I fell in love with?"

Rowan blew out a disbelieving laugh. "She never existed."

She turned to face the rest of the elders huddled by the entrance. "I'll need someone to bring these journals up to my room in the tower."

"Lady Rowan, we'd be happy to pack these up for you to bring to your tower. We do feel, though, that it may be best…to appease the Wolf, of course…for you to go and stay at his keep," Elder Graves stammered.

"I don't think that's what he wants at all." Rowan laughed in disbelief. "I'm certain that's not what he meant. He just didn't want me to be ritually blessed ."

The elders averted their eyes.

"Please, Red, we just want the Wolf to be happy. If he comes back, we have no idea what souls he will reap," Elder Raymond said.

It was unfathomable for them to ask for her mercy after what they'd planned. If she was a different person, she'd send Conor back for the rest of them.

Instead, Rowan tipped her head back and sighed heavily. Before, she was their sacrifice, and now, she was their savior, but she still wasn't someone they'd listen to.

Cade strolled into the room as if summoned by the chaos. He whistled, tapping his foot in a blood puddle. "I'm impressed. I take it Wolfie wasn't a fan of whatever deviant plans the elders dreamed up for this hall of nightmares?"

Rowan said nothing, pinning him with a glare.

"Mother's tits! This is a mess! I wonder what the Mother thinks of this. I suppose he kept the blood out of her house, at least. She seems to like a tidy space," he joked.

Rowan bit back a laugh. She didn't realize how tense she was until Cade teased her.

She turned her attention back to the elders. "Fine. I'll select several journals to go with me, but I expect every single one of the rest of them to be in my room when I return before the ceremony in a week," Rowan said. "I'm counting them now, and if any are missing, I will know."

Elder Falon nodded emphatically.

She walked back to the altar. The stillness in the room grew heavy as she paused in front of Elder Garrett's body. She felt nothing for him—no pity or empathy, just relief. She looked forward to Conor receiving his soul, though she hoped she wouldn't have to ferry it herself.

She crossed the room and paused in the doorway. "I want this room sealed up permanently. There won't be any rituals again or any talk of them. You'll wipe the records of such a thing from our history and never even think of suggesting one again." She paused. "The Wolf will know if you don't follow through. And—more importantly— I will know."

Rowan didn't even need to turn to sense their agreement. She climbed the stairs, walked through the temple, and back out into the cold air with Cade on her heels.

"That was so badass!" he laughed. "‘ I will know .' You're scary when you want to be, Row."

"Good," she whispered.

She didn't know if she should be as worried that she didn't feel pity for the dead elder or fear of the Wolf. She felt oddly light, like she was coming back to life, or maybe just living for the first time.

There was a large crowd gathered in the temple courtyard. Huntsmen shouted over the group, trying to get them to disperse. Clearly, word of Conor's display of violence had already spread through town. It had done nothing to settle the tension in Ballybrine.

Rowan pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to rub away the beginnings of a headache.

Cade ducked back inside the temple and reemerged a moment later holding a leather satchel filled with journals. He offered it to her. Rowan slung it over her shoulder, turned, and started toward the Dark Wood trail.

"Rowan," Finn said.

A cold gust of wind ruffled her cloak as she paused at the edge of the trail.

"I promise I'll get you out of this. I promised I'd save you, and I still will," he continued.

"It's a little late for saving now, Finn."

She walked swiftly back to Wolf's Keep. The Dark Wood was strangely still, as if recovering from the Wolf's explosive violence.

Cade was just as quiet beside her.

"I need you to keep an eye on Aeoife. The frenzy in town makes me nervous," Rowan said.

"What about you?"

"I can take care of myself," she replied.

Cade sighed heavily but nodded and turned back toward Maiden's Tower.

A few moments later, she climbed the stone staircase and pushed through the heavy wooden door of Wolf's Keep.

Charlie stood in the foyer. "Surprised to see you so soon, lass."

"I'd love a word with him," she said.

Charlie offered her a grim smile. "I don't know if that's the best idea. He's a bit wound up from the bloodlust."

"Sounds perfect to me."

Rowan pushed past Charlie into the sitting room. Conor paced in front of the fire, his hair still wet from his post-murder bath. He froze when he saw her.

"Glad you had a chance to clean up from your foray into finger painting—or is it called claw painting for you?"

"Get out," Conor gritted out through clenched teeth.

"Sorry, but you scared them so badly they don't even want me in town anymore. Looks like you're stuck with me unless you want to leave me to the creatures of the Dark Wood."

Conor sighed miserably. Apparently, her company had become unbearable. She wasn't sure what to make of him. One moment he seemed obsessively focused on her, and the next, he was trying to ignore her.

"I suppose I'll be expected to help Elder Garrett's soul cross over next week?"

Conor huffed out a breath. "Charlie will take care of retrieving him tonight. You'll not need to see the man again. You may go to your room," he said dismissively.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "And if I wish to stay here and enjoy my cider?"

He clenched his fists at his sides. "It's not a time to test me."

"Funny—I feel much the same about being bossed around, especially after I warned you that you wouldn't help anything," Rowan quipped.

Conor stood with a start, the chair clattering to the ground behind him as he advanced on Rowan. She stood her ground as he towered over her. "You have a death wish!" he barked.

"And you have an obsession with control," she countered. She should have been scared, but his passion only stoked her own, no matter how reckless it might have been.

Conor's nostrils flared and his gaze dropped to her lips. She hated that she wanted him to kiss her. It was exhausting wanting him all the time when he was so unpredictable.

They stood there, chest to chest, both breathing in short, shallow gasps.

Rowan met Conor's stormy eyes. "I'll take my cider now."

Conor took a step back, shaking his head. "Demon's breath!" He sighed, turning away from her and righting his chair before sitting and returning to his reading.

Rowan grinned in triumph as she sat in her chair by the fire. A moment later, Charlie appeared with her cider. She sipped it slowly, watching Conor over the rim of her mug. He wouldn't look at her, but she could tell he also wasn't reading. He was just staring at the book so he could ignore her.

Taking another long swig of her cider, she relished the burn of the whiskey. She rested her head back against the chair and tucked her legs under her.

She didn't mean to fall asleep, but she woke when Conor lifted her into his arms and carried her up to her bed. He removed her boots and tucked her beneath the blankets, and before she settled back into sleep, she heard him whisper so softly she thought she might have imagined it.

"I'm sorry."

She wasn't certain if he meant for killing Elder Garrett, for not listening to her, or for getting her banished, but she was too exhausted to ask, and when she woke the next morning, she was certain she'd imagined it.