2. Rowan

2

ROWAN

T he dampness of the ground soaked through the hem of Rowan's dress as she knelt in the dirt of Sarai's garden outside Crone's Cottage. Autumn in Ballybrine was eternally wet, rain showers popping up so often that nothing ever seemed to dry fully. But even her sodden dress wasn't enough to stop her from worrying about Orla's ferrying later that night. She looked across the lake at the silent Dark Wood.

"You're distracted today," Sarai said. A gust of wind swayed the rosemary plant as she reached to snip it. She brushed her dark braids behind her shoulders. "Did Orla say anything about the Dark Wood?"

"It was so strange," Rowan said. "Orla has never told me anything worthwhile about the Wolf or the woods, and she looked worried. Then she told us that if there's something wrong, it wasn't the Wolf's doing. She suggested that something might have happened to him."

Sarai's eyes went wide. "Does she like him?"

"It's hard to tell. She said he was dangerous, but little else. It seems terribly impractical that Orla can tell us nothing about her experiences," Rowan said.

"It's because knowledge is power, and the elders like you weak," Cade called from where he lay by the edge of the water, pulling up blades of grass and tossing them to the wind.

Rowan frowned at him.

"It did always strike me as odd. Especially since the elders are so vocal about interactions with the Mother," Sarai mused.

The elders were originally messengers, meant to help spread the word the Mother shared via the Crone, but in recent years, they'd inserted themselves between the two. Not only had they stolen much of the Crone's political and theological power, but they'd slowly manipulated the messaging to suit their means.

Sarai bundled the rosemary in string, her jerky motions nearly splitting the stalks in half. "Honestly, their desire to control women in the community knows no bounds. Did you know they want to ban them from joining the huntsmen ranks?"

Rowan's eyes went wide. "How do you know that?"

"Raya told me," Sarai said, her cheeks flushing a dark berry color.

"But there are so many outstanding female hunters in their ranks. Do they just expect them all to resign?" Rowan asked.

"They don't care," Sarai said. "My mother is a fantastic Crone and they've made her a glorified ceremony master with no actual power. I worry there will be no need for me by the time I'm old enough to take over for her. It's maddening watching them constantly performing their devotion rather than actually feeling it. Don't you think?"

Rowan nodded. "I do, but you know how I feel. It's hard to feel connected to a religion that sends young women to a death god."

"I know," Sarai sighed. "And I know you hold no affection for the Mother who allowed you to be born to be a sacrifice."

"What an honor—to be a prize for a vengeful god," Rowan said, her voice tight with bitterness.

"You should be careful who you share those sentiments with," Sarai warned, laying sprigs of rosemary in her basket. "I may understand, but others won't."

Rowan tried so hard to be a perfect Red Maiden—to live a frictionless life—to be pleasant, compliant, and silent. Orla was frictionless, and everyone loved her. Rowan was chaotic and angry under a barely controlled exterior.

Sarai's gaze was like a brand, but Rowan kept her focus on the blooming lavender. It was not the season for lavender, especially with so much rain, but Rowan hummed quietly, listening to the song that flowed through the plant's roots and coaxing it to bloom.

She was forbidden from singing outside of the soundproof room she trained in, but the small rebellion was one of the few thrills in her life, and the Crone and Sarai made good use of their herbs. They made salves for wounds, herbal tinctures, and remedies for the poorest in Ballybrine.

Though Sarai knew about her power, Rowan had never explained the way it truly worked. She kept it to herself to prevent Sarai from being put in the awkward position of having to lie for her. Their friendship was always second to their responsibilities, though Sarai did her best to give Rowan an outlet when she could.

"The mint could use a song." Sarai gestured toward the pathetic-looking mint plant potted at the far edge of the garden.

Rowan smiled. "All right, but only one. If I give it too much, it will strangle the rest of the garden." She shifted her gaze over to Cade, who was distracted with digging worms from the wet dirt by the lake's edge.

She turned her attention to the plant and sang an old folk lullaby. Immediately, the mint plant perked up and grew before their eyes until it was lush and overwhelmed its pot.

"I've seen it so many times, but it's always amazing to watch," Sarai said. "Can Orla do that, too? Or Aeoife?"

Rowan shrugged. She'd never asked since she wasn't supposed to be singing outside of her training. She was pretty sure that neither of them would tell on her, but she didn't want to put them in the position of being forced to confess something to the elders. The punishments dealt by the elders were rarely commensurate with the alleged crimes committed. Rowan's gaze dropped to her hands, where she bore several angry red lines from being hit with a switch for asking questions out of turn.

Rowan couldn't quite explain her power. She just knew that when she sang, the resonance in her voice brushed up against the resonance of living things and made them grow. The same way a Red Maiden's song reminded the dead of life and lured them through the woods, Rowan's songs inspired living things to thrive.

Rowan gnawed on her lip, watching Sarai harvest some thyme. "I want to propose that the Wolf change his bargain with the Mother."

Sarai froze. She turned to face Rowan. "Are you out of your mind?"

"I told you so!" Cade proclaimed.

Rowan slumped. She'd hoped Sarai would support her idea more than Cade had. "Sarai, I don't know what else to do. I don't want to die. I don't want Aeoife to have to take over in five years. She'll only be fifteen! It's too young." She frowned. "It would help if we could find the Maiden who is supposed to come between me and Aeoife."

Red Maidens were born every five years, but despite the elders' best efforts, they hadn't found the girl who had been born five years after Rowan.

She felt a sick sort of envy for that girl. She must have had family looking out for her and remarkable control over her gifts. But Rowan couldn't fault her for wanting to duck her fate.

Sarai dusted her hand on her dress. "I have never even had an inkling of who she might be. It's as if someone has placed a veil over her and she's just gone."

"Is it possible that no Maiden was ever born between us?" Rowan asked.

Sarai shook her head. "No. I'm certain she's out there. I just don't know where. And while I think your idea is brave, I'm worried that the Wolf is already wound up enough with this blight. What if he makes it spread across the border into the realm of the living?"

Rowan sagged, frustrated. "I don't know."

Sarai laid a hand on her shoulder. "I don't want to discourage you. It's not a bad idea. Perhaps feel him out and wait a bit until you make requests."

Sarai gasped and went rigid as her eyes clouded over.

"Sarai?"

Although Sarai experienced visions with some frequency, Rowan had only witnessed them three times before.

"It creeps me out when she does this," Cade said, coming to kneel beside Rowan.

Rowan gave him a dirty look.

"What? Seers are strange. They see everything, but they tell us nothing of what to expect. If I could see the future…" He let his voice trail off, a look of envy in his eyes.

After a moment, Sarai's daze cleared and she blinked at Rowan. The color drained from her cheeks, and her eyes went wide.

"What is it?" Rowan asked.

Sarai swallowed hard. "I saw Orla."

"And?"

Sarai opened her mouth and then closed it again. "I saw Orla—so pale and bloodless—just lying on the forest floor. I don't think she was sleeping, Row."

"Wolf's teeth!" Cade choked. "Why doesn't she ever see good things?"

Rowan swallowed hard. "That doesn't mean it's going to happen for sure," she protested. "Remember last time? When you saw the Fellows boy drown in the sea? He didn't actually drown. He simply fell in the water and was rescued by a sailor."

Sarai nodded noncommittally, but she said nothing else.

The pounding of horse hooves nearby cut through the silence. Rowan pulled her hood up and looked toward the trail as Finn Ashand emerged like a fairy-tale knight on his white horse. Finn's face was unnerving in its symmetry, marred only by a few freckles that came out in the summers when he spent too long in the sun. His golden huntsman cloak draped over his broad shoulders, and his face was fixed in a broad grin. That smile and the openness on his face always made him stand out from the other huntsmen who tried so hard to look tough.

Rowan and Sarai had met Finn as children when they snuck away to play in the sea one day. Rowan had been caught in a current that dragged her out too far while Sarai watched, horrified, from the shore. Finn heard Sarai's calls for help, dove into the water, and brought Rowan back to the beach. After that, the three were fast—though secret—friends.

Finn was the eldest son of the Lord of Ashand, who owned the territory surrounding the Huntsman's Hollows and the Borderwood. He was also one of the few who had seen Rowan without her cloak and kept it a secret. She brushed her hood back and smiled at him.

Finn drew up on the reins and hopped down from the horse. "Thought I might find you here. By the Mother, Rowan, you look lovely today," he sighed.

Rowan felt a flush creep up her neck to her cheeks.

Sarai looked from Finn to Rowan with a grin. "I have to get these herbs hung up to dry." Picking up her basket, she winked at Rowan and disappeared into the cottage.

"You shouldn't say things like that in front of other people," Rowan scolded as Finn took her hand and kissed it softly.

"I know it's wrong to covet that which does not belong to me, but how could I not when you're so beautiful?" Finn said with a wink.

Cade made a choking sound. "He can't be serious. I'm going to vomit."

Rowan ignored him as she looked down at the lush grass, unable to meet Finn's gaze. She'd always been uncomfortable with the weight of his affection. It wasn't that she didn't care for him. She was simply aware that her feelings didn't match his, and it filled her with guilt. Still, she enjoyed the thrill of being seen as more than just an object.

Finn tucked a loose red curl behind her ear.

"What have you heard of the blight in the Dark Wood?" Rowan asked.

As a huntsman, Finn hunted game for the village in the Huntsman's Hollows, but he also led excursions into the Dark Wood when there were problems. He bore a special blessing from the Mother that allowed him to wander deeper into the Dark Wood than most since only Red Maidens and those with special magical blessings could travel more than a few steps inside. Those without that type of magic felt compelled to leave as soon as they set foot in the haunted forest. It was meant to protect the town, but Rowan couldn't help but feel it was another way to ensure that the Red Maiden was isolated on her journey to Wolf's Keep.

Finn furrowed his brow and ran a hand through his golden-brown hair. "I led an excursion yesterday. It was harder than usual for us all to withstand the heavy, oppressive energy of the forest. We only rode in a mile or so before we had to turn back, but as far as we made it, the trees along the trail were all affected by the blight."

Rowan swallowed hard. "What do you think it means?"

Finn shrugged. "It's hard to say. We didn't encounter the Wolf or any other beasts, but something was definitely very wrong. I can normally make it nearly the full three miles to Wolf's Keep before I feel a need to turn back. It was just a frustrating day, and when I have a bad day, you're the only one I want to see," he said.

"Why?" Rowan asked.

"Because you're my favorite person in this whole town. Just seeing your smile makes me feel lighter," Finn said.

Rowan brushed phantom dirt off her dress to hide how flustered she felt. "Finn, you shouldn't flirt with me. You should be out there courting a lady to marry."

"I'm going to marry you once you become a lady," he insisted.

Rowan rolled her eyes. "Finn, we both know that isn't going to happen. You're already of age to find a wife, and I haven't even begun my service. I could never ask you to wait for me. I have nothing to offer you."

"Nonsense," Finn said. "Once you hit your five years of active service, you'll become a lady. You'll receive the highest honor in the village. You'll be able to retire and be treated with the reverence you deserve. We'll have a family and a life. You'll want for nothing."

"I won't tempt fate by hoping," she said firmly.

Perhaps she would feel the same way Finn did if she lacked the sense to prepare for the worst. Rowan spent most of her youth on worthless hope. No one was coming to save her. Much as Finn might have liked to be her knight in shining armor, he was also a reverent rule-follower. He might bend rules, but he'd not break them.

"Then I'll hope enough for both of us," Finn said.

She couldn't help but smile. It did her no good, but Finn's confidence was contagious.

"Regardless, let me decide what I'm willing to wait for. I think you're worth it, and I could not care less what anyone else thinks," Finn said.

"Really? I've noticed that Lady Joy McCade seems to have taken a shine to you," Rowan taunted.

Lady Joy McCade was the exact type of person Finn should have wanted to marry. She was tall, wealthy, beautiful, and available.

Finn smiled. "Joy is a sweet girl, but she's not for me. My heart is set on someone else, and it's quite immovable."

Rowan looked away, willing Sarai to come back and save her.

Cade stepped up beside Finn, sizing him up. "Perhaps he should have been a poet instead of a huntsman."

"You shouldn't say such things," Rowan said, partly to Finn and partly to Cade.

"The Mother believes we should all speak our truth when we feel it. It's in her scriptures," Finn said.

"Yes, but your affection is wasted on me," Rowan sighed. "You shouldn't want me."

"Nonsense. He should be so lucky," Cade quipped indignantly.

Rowan flicked her fingers, her nonverbal sign of dismissal, and Cade crossed his arms before disappearing into whatever void he ran off to when she wanted alone time.

"Finn, there is a whole world out there for you. Just because I must spend my youth waiting for my time doesn't mean that I'm happy to doom you to the same. You're a good man, and you'll be a wonderful husband, but it won't be me," she said.

Finn ran a hand through his hair, but the gesture didn't hide the hurt on his face.

"I'm not saying it to hurt you. Your notions are terribly romantic, but I feel guilty taking your time and affection when it would be better spent elsewhere on someone who can give you what you deserve," Rowan whispered.

"And what do I deserve?" Finn asked, tilting her chin so she'd meet his eyes.

"You deserve a partner who can build a life with you. You deserve someone who will live a long life, who isn't forced to spend her youth serving a dark god," Rowan said.

"I disagree," Finn declared. "How could I do better than a woman who braves the Dark Wood to protect her people? Your character is far more important to me than your virtue. Even you won't change my mind."

He pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead. It was a tiny rebellion for both of them and as far into the realm of breaking the rules as he'd ever gone.

"Walk with me? I promise to have you back in time to see Orla off."

Finn offered her his arm. If Rowan had any sense at all, she'd keep him at a safe distance. Even if she wasn't a sacrifice—even if she didn't spend her time guarding her heart and the hearts of those she cared for—she wasn't sure her feelings would ever match his.

Rowan took his arm. Just once, she let herself pretend to be an ordinary girl with nothing to do but enjoy her huntsman and a wide-open future.

By the time Rowan made it back to the tower, Orla was already in front of the mirror, braiding her hair and making final preparations for the Gratitude and Grieving Ceremony. People in town looked forward to the event that gave families of the dead an opportunity to grieve while also giving thanks for the bargain that kept balance between the living and the dead. But for Rowan the ceremonies were a precursor to a night of dread as she waited for her friend to return safely.

Rowan regarded Orla warily from the bedroom doorway. The memory of Sarai's vision was still fresh in her mind.

"Don't lurk," Orla said, meeting her eyes in the mirror.

"Sorry," Rowan mumbled as she stepped into the room.

Orla turned and smiled as her gaze passed over Rowan, taking in the mud caked on the hem of her dress. "You should get cleaned up. The ceremony starts at sundown."

"Are you scared?" Rowan asked.

Orla sighed. "Normally, I'm not, but I feel uneasy about this blight. They've asked me to take stock of it, discuss it with the Wolf and report back. I should be fine, but the look of those trees gives me the creeps."

"Just follow the rules, and you'll be fine," Rowan said. She tried to muster confidence she didn't feel, but her voice shook.

"Why do you look as if you're grieving?" Orla asked.

Rowan shook her head and looked away. "I wish you didn't have to go alone. If Cade didn't make you uneasy, I'd send him with you."

She hesitated to share about Finn. She'd mentioned him to Orla after the day they'd first met, but she tried not to say how often they saw each other for the same reason she kept everything else to herself. The less Orla knew, the less she'd be compelled to tell the elders if asked.

"Finn said that the hunting party struggled to make their way through the Dark Wood's magic."

Orla nodded. "I'd heard as much." She stood and buttoned her red cloak like it was an ordinary evening, ever steady even in the eye of a storm. Her calm stoked Rowan's urgency.

Rowan was a stranger to temperance. She only knew how to burn. Her life was a constant struggle to remain composed while she knew herself to be incendiary. Her indoctrination had been entirely about dampening the flames within her, and she didn't need the elders to see any hint that the embers in her smoldered still—not when they were confident they'd been well smothered.

"Orla, Sarai had a vision that something bad happened to you," Rowan said, her voice shaking.

Orla's eyes widened. She turned back to the mirror and licked her lips before meeting Rowan's gaze in the reflection. "It's not as if I can choose not to go," she rasped.

Rowan bit her lip. "Can you just stay overnight? Her vision was of you in the woods."

The line between Orla's brow softened. "I'll make sure that someone walks me back. I promise."

Rowan nodded. She refused to allow herself to overthink. She pulled Orla into a tight hug and whispered, "Please be careful. You and Aeoife are the only family I have."

When she pulled back, Orla's eyes were glassy. "Don't worry about me. Just keep Aeoife calm. You know how she always has nightmares on ceremony nights."

It was so like Orla to worry about all of them instead of herself when she was the one most in danger. Though she wasn't as emotional as Rowan, she insulated both younger Maidens from interacting with the elders. Yet each time Rowan tried to bond with her, Orla had an excuse at the ready for why she couldn't take part.

"I will." Rowan nodded.

She usually ended up with Aeoife asleep next to her in her tiny bed. Rowan didn't mind, even though the younger Maiden kicked. She didn't want Aeoife to grow up starved for human touch as she'd been, so she showed the girl as much affection as she could.

"Now go change and wipe that scared look off your face before Aeoife sees it," Orla said. She turned back to the mirror and pretended to keep working on her hair, though not before Rowan saw her hands trembling.