30. Rowan

30

ROWAN

S he didn't fight with words. Instead, Rowan opened her mouth and sang, and the forest came furiously to life. She felt it stir the moment she'd walked into it half-conscious. The Dark Wood was happy to welcome her. It wanted to help. She felt the symphony of the foliage underneath the snow, its melody brushing her back. Its brambles and vines had snagged her ankles to try to slow her down—to try to help her fight the urge to rush into Valen's waiting arms. It had been trying to warn her, to protect her, but she hadn't been strong enough to resist.

She'd attempted to reach the dagger on her thigh because it hadn't occurred to her that she could sing to the Dark Wood and the Dark Wood would rush to her aid. But the moment Conor had appeared with his words that sliced through Valen's magic, Rowan knew that anything was possible.

She sang as loud as she could manage, and the Dark Wood stirred toward her, ready to assist.

None of them had time to react as branches shot forward from all sides. Valen was so startled that he let go of Rowan. She tumbled forward. Before Conor could catch her, the forest cut him off and formed a ferny pillow to break her fall. Fresh roots and large green leaves wrapped around her like a protective bubble as she continued to sing.

It wasn't like her usual magic. With other plants, her magic was a coaxing call and a tentative response, but calling the Dark Wood felt instinctual, like it knew what she needed before she ever reached out, and it was there waiting.

The whole forest groaned as roots and branches shot from all over, gruesomely impaling Valen. The vampire's eyes went wide in shock as one sharp root penetrated his heart, and he burst into dust.

Rowan let out a startled, horrified breath and stopped singing.

"It's fine. I'm fine," she whispered. The forest seemed to sputter a relieved sigh in response.

Charlie pulled back the leaves around her, staring wide-eyed at Rowan. "What in the name of darkness just happened?"

Conor knelt beside her. She blinked up at him, her eyes narrowed.

"Thank you for waking me up, but I still don't like you," she murmured, her eyelids growing heavy and her head lolling against the leafy pillow.

Conor barked out a laugh. "Honestly, I'm not my biggest fan at the moment either, lass," he whispered.

She shivered, and he removed his cloak, wrapping it around her. He scooped her into his arms.

"Where do you want to go? I'll take you anywhere you like," Conor whispered.

"Take me to the keep," she said.

Charlie sidled up beside them and fell into step. "So when were you planning to tell us that you can weaponize the Dark Wood like that, lass?"

Rowan smiled. "I didn't know that I could."

"I've never seen anything like that," he sighed.

Conor curled her protectively against his body, and she grumbled.

"What's that?" Conor asked.

"I'm still mad at you," she rasped.

"Be as mad as you want, love. As long as you're in my arms when you do it."

He tore through the Dark Wood as quickly as he could, careful not to jostle her too much. She faded in and out of consciousness against his shoulder. It was hard to stay awake for long. She began to worry she'd lost too much blood.

"You're mine, Rowan," Conor whispered as they passed through the keep gates.

"And what if I don't want to be?" she rasped. "What if I want you to be mine instead?"

"Can we not say both are true?" Conor challenged.

"I'm not sure we can," she sighed as they stepped inside the warmth of the foyer. She looked up at him. "I may not have you yet, but I will."

Conor didn't disagree as he climbed the stairs and carried her into her room.

He doted on Rowan as one of his ghostly servants drew her a hot bath. He knelt in front of her, rubbing her small, cold hands between his much larger, warmer ones.

She didn't want to meet his eyes. Whatever he'd said when he thought he would lose her was irrelevant. He told her what he needed to manipulate her at the moment. It didn't mean anything. It was just a strategy. She felt like she had whiplash from being pulled so close, tossed away, then pulled close again. She didn't want to give him anything more of herself. She didn't want to think about the way Sarai's words reverberated through her head when she saw the distraught look on Conor's face.

Love is what holds back the dark .

Was it love for Conor that helped her break through Valen's control? She didn't want it to be true. Love was not something she could afford. So she kept her eyes fixed on where Conor held her hands.

"Rowan, look at me," he pleaded softly. The desperation in his voice was compelling.

She shook her head as he switched to warming her bare feet between his palms.

"Fine," he sighed. "I'll clean you up and put you to bed."

He helped her to her feet and into the washroom. The servant left them alone, and exhaustion pressed down hard on Rowan. She leaned into Conor involuntarily. He gestured for her to lift her arms, and she didn't argue as he slipped off her red silk nightgown. Finally, she met his eyes and he held her gaze, not even daring a glance at her body.

She stepped into the tub and sank into the blissfully hot water. She leaned her head back against the tub and sleep instantly threatened to drag her under.

"Conor, I might?—"

"It's all right. I won't let you fall asleep. I have you, Rowan," he whispered as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

He used a warm cloth to carefully clean the blood from her neck and chest before washing her hair. It felt divine and strangely intimate to let him bathe her. It was unnatural, and she felt exposed beyond her bare skin.

When he was finished, he helped her out of the tub, now full of water pinked with her blood. Conor patted her hair dry before helping her into a clean nightgown and tucking her into bed.

He lay beside her, his hand resting on her chest, thumb gently stroking her collarbone.

"You have a lot of explaining to do," Rowan sighed. Her eyelids fluttered and her head nodded against the pillow. Fatigue and anger warred in her, and she wasn't sure which would win.

"Rest, Rowan. I'll be here for you to yell at when you wake up," he said, brushing a lock of hair back from her forehead.

"I'm scared," she whispered as her head lolled and her eyes fluttered closed.

"Don't worry, lass. I won't let you sleepwalk again," Conor assured her.

Rowan didn't have the energy to tell him that she wasn't afraid of sleepwalking into the Dark Wood. She was scared of him , but for none of the reasons she should have been. Her anger was the only barrier holding back the feelings that would shatter the delicate truce they'd reached. She was scared of what she felt and what it was becoming.

Sarai was wrong. Love wasn't what held back the dark—it was what waited in the shadows to devour her.

Rowan woke disoriented, her head pounding like her brain was trying to escape her skull. Trying unsuccessfully to roll over, she groaned. It took her a moment to realize the reason she couldn't move was that Conor was holding her too tightly against his body.

"Take it easy, lass. We don't know how much blood you lost. Let me get you some water," he said as he reached for a glass on the nightstand. He helped her sit so she could sip the water.

Slowly, her senses returned, and she laughed when she realized how out of place Conor looked in the frilly garden bedroom she'd come to love. His quiet, concerned brooding was in stark contrast to the sheer embroidered floral hangings around the canopy bed and the soft green curtains.

"What's so funny?" he asked.

"Nothing," she said between sips of water.

A smile broke over his face like the sunrise over the sea. Rowan tried to ignore the swell in her chest at the sight of it. He was always handsome, but his smiles were a rare treat, and the warmth that buzzed through her when she earned one sent her reeling every time.

It would be best for her to get back to Ballybrine sooner rather than later. Her gaze shot to the windows. She watched through the spiderwebs of frost on the glass as dawn reluctantly pulled back the heavy curtain of night, revealing a vibrant sunrise. Rowan instinctively slid her hand into Conor's. She was alarmed at how natural it was to want to share every beautiful, wondrous thing with him.

He watched the sunrise with the same intensity she did. How many sunrises had he seen? Still, he managed to look as full of awe as she felt.

Forgetting herself, forgetting her anger, forgetting reason altogether, she leaned over and pulled him into a gentle kiss.

"The ease with which you separate me from good sense is alarming," Conor sighed against her lips. "I hope that it never fades."

His admission warmed her. It was easy to look at Conor and see a powerful being—the god of death, the Wolf—but he seemed just as in need of gentleness as anyone. Rowan understood. When the world saw fierceness, they assumed that was all that existed.

Guilt crept in, snapping her out of her revelry. She'd walked out of Maiden's Tower in the middle of the night, leaving no note or sign of where she'd gone. When Aeoife woke, she'd be worried sick. Mrs. Teverin and the elders would likely see her footprints and expect the worst.

"I have to get home," she said, standing and nearly falling over from the rush of blood to her head.

"Easy, lass," Conor said, steadying her. He helped her put on a dressing gown before walking her down to the dining room, where breakfast was set on the table.

"We still need to talk," Conor said.

Rowan's eyes narrowed, and all at once, she was happy to reacquaint herself with her anger. She wore it like a cloak to protect her from the chill of heartbreak. Any barrier she could place between herself and Conor was a welcome one.

Even with her lack of experience, she knew what haunted her heart. Love had no instructions, no rules, no reason, but it was the kind of thing that she didn't need external confirmation to know she felt. She didn't need a test or guide to know the potency of her emotions.

She willed the feeling to fade as if desire alone could snuff out the warmth that bloomed in her chest. Despite her best efforts to keep herself barren, desolate, and cold, something wild took root. She had better sense than to let hope in, but the frivolous desire tugged at her.

She busied herself by shoving bacon and toast into her mouth before she could say something stupid.

"Why don't I start?" Conor proposed. "I'm sorry that I made you believe for one second that I am anything other than crazy about you. I panicked. It has been a very long time since I've cared so much for someone. To be honest, I don't know if I ever have. I was careless with you, and you deserve better."

"I do," she said, taking a bite of her toast.

"I got caught up in you," Conor started. "You are terribly easy to get lost in, Rowan. You let me be exactly as I am, and I forgot to keep my guard up. I stole life force from you, and that's why you slept so long. It's why I panicked and sent you away."

Rowan swallowed hard. Everything finally made sense.

"Why didn't you just tell me what you did? We could have figured it out together," she said.

"Because I knew you would say that. I knew you wouldn't leave me if I didn't make you," he said, shaking his head. "You have been taught to put yourself last at every turn, and I won't be another person who asks that of you. I knew that getting closer to you would only mean our mutual destruction." He scrubbed his hand over his face. "Rowan, I don't want to live in a world without you in it. I hate that I took something from you. I hate that I couldn't help myself. I hate that I'm so overwhelmed around you I have no control. My entire existence has been about control, and just a few weeks with you, and I've lost my mind."

"But I'm okay now?" she asked tentatively.

Conor nodded. "I don't quite understand it, but Charlie confirmed that your aura was back to its usual brightness before Valen attacked you. It's as if it never happened."

"So what's the problem, then?"

"How are you not angry that I stole your very life force from you?" Conor asked, his voice taking on a hint of anger. His eyes darkened, the gray and blue swirling like storm clouds. "The problem is that I took it to begin with. That I didn't even notice until Charlie pointed it out. Even if you're better now, I don't understand how that is, and I don't feel confident that it won't happen again. I can't be someone else in this world who is content to take from you."

Rowan chucked a muffin at him. "I'm angry because you didn't trust me to be able to handle a conversation about it. You didn't trust me to be reasonable."

"Would you have left me alone if I'd told you?" Conor asked.

"No, but I still deserved to know the truth. You hurt me on purpose. You knew how vulnerable I was, and you chose to hurt me instead of trusting that I could handle the truth."

Conor looked down at his hands. For the first time, the air around him filled with a discordant melody. Shame. That's what shame sounds like .

"I know. I should have. I should have handled this very differently. I could have spared you getting hurt like this again. When I saw him with you, I went a little mad. When I think of Valen's hands on you, I cannot breathe."

Rowan flushed as she remembered the way she'd been compelled by Valen's words. She remembered the way she was desperate for his touch, desperate for more than that. She was so utterly exhausted of people taking power away from her, using her to prop up outdated beliefs and worldviews, using her life force as a power source, making decisions as if they knew better than her. The town of Ballybrine needed her where she was to protect their old traditions. To hold up a world that wouldn't let Sarai love who she loved, even as she prepared to be their next Crone. Rowan was so tired of being a tool in someone else's game.

"You have to stop deciding for me. You have to let me make my own choices, or you are the same as everyone else," she said.

"Rowan, I have centuries of experience, and you won't listen to me. What else am I supposed to do?"

"You're supposed to trust me."

"I do," he insisted.

"Then tell me why you're so afraid."

Conor hesitated for only a moment. "Because I killed Lorna."

Rowan froze. Lorna was the Red Maiden before Evelyn.

"I may not have killed Orla or Evie. But I killed every Maiden before them."

Rowan swallowed hard. The thought had always tugged at the back of her mind, especially after the day Conor brought her down to his temple to see the shrines to each of the Maidens. He'd told her of nothing but his monstrosity. He'd never lied about that. He'd warned her over and over. Beyond that, his insistence on avoiding her, being cold, trying to scare her away…all of it took on a new meaning.

He was a god trying to make things right, and giving her up was his penance.

"How?" The question slipped out of her mouth unbidden.

"I fucked her and drained all of her life force. There was more to it, though," he sighed.

Rowan winced at the loud, keening music that cut through the air.

Conor studied her. "What is it?"

"I can hear you. It's a song that sounds like mourning," she said.

He swallowed. "Lo," he murmured. "That's what I called her. She was not meant for this life," he sighed, a half-laugh tailing the words. "She was much like you in that way. Not exactly a pliant girl. The elders couldn't stand her. You would have been young, so you probably don't remember her well."

"I remember a little, but she wasn't around much," Rowan admitted.

"Yes, she stayed with me most of the time." He paused, looking into the fire. "She was brilliant, kind, and also full of righteous anger. We played chess. We talked about literature. She was honestly one of the first friends I had in centuries, with the exception of Charlie, of course."

He fell silent, and Rowan said nothing. She didn't even move for fear he would stop telling her the story.

"I tried to just take sips of her life force, thinking it wouldn't be so bad. Demon's breath, Rowan, it was like a drug. I could not get enough of her."

Rowan still said nothing. The words were both devastating and not entirely surprising. He'd never lied about it. He told her that he was a monster from the beginning. Still, his grief formed a somber song that broke through the air around them.

"She was in love with me, and I took advantage of that love."

"You didn't care for her?" Rowan asked. "The song around you says otherwise."

"Of course I cared. But I cared for a fix of her more than her . I lost control, and I killed her. I've gone over and over that day hundreds of times. I relive it daily. I think of what I could have and should have done differently. And that is why I scared you away. That is why I chased you from me."

"Because you feel the same way about me?" Rowan asked.

"No, because I feel more. I?—"

Rowan held her breath.

Conor cleared his throat and met her eyes. "I cannot do that again. I cannot look into the lifeless eyes of someone I care about and know that I am responsible for taking someone beautiful and kind from this world. I will not, Rowan. I am begging you not to let me. I am begging you to stay away. I'd rather live in a world and know you're in it safe and far from me than live with the grief of truly losing you. Forever is a long time to mourn. It is a long time to carry the weight of your wrongs."

"You can't die?" Rowan asked, playing ignorant.

"I can, but I am very hard to kill."

Rowan frowned, the truth finally dawning on her. "You can lose your power. You are losing your power."

"I am. The blight grew from here and spread because I cannot hold back the souls who have crossed and keep the forest alive. Beasts fill these woods because I can no longer keep every tortured soul and demon in the Underlands. Losing my power only makes it harder to resist you because if I drained you dry, I could regain control. It is yet another reason why you need to stay away from me, Rowan. Please. I'll throw myself at your mercy and beg you to leave me because I cannot do that again."

Rowan shook her head. "It can't ever be about what I want, can it?"

"Rowan, you know well the cost of that. I already stole from you once, and we got away with it. I don't know what would happen again. Are you willing to risk that this could all fall to Aeoife?"

Aeoife was the one pure thing in Rowan's whole world. She didn't want to admit that she and Conor had come to the end of the line. She'd have to act much sooner than she wanted to, and Conor did her the favor of reminding her exactly what she had to lose.

"You need to understand," Conor started. "Before Lorna, I was different. Truly monstrous. I did not care for any of them. I held out as long as I could, but I killed them all. I used them all, and I didn't feel bad about it. I wish I could say differently, but it's the truth, Rowan. I was angry about the deal I made, and I took that anger out on the Maidens. It was cruel and horrible of me, but you ought to know who I am."

"What changed?"

Conor shrugged. "I think I got old. I got tired. The monotony of it all—the endless cycle of it—got to me. When Lorna arrived, she was the first person to ever truly try to fight back. Other Maidens had run, but she fought back enough to startle me. She stabbed me the first night with a broken cider glass. She wanted to live enough that I started talking to her."

"Am I just a replacement for her?" Rowan hated the jealousy in her voice.

Conor shook his head. "No, Rowan. You're not. You have things in common with her, but you're so much softer. So very different, and I never felt with her what I do with you. I swear."

Rowan worried her lower lip between her teeth as he continued.

"At first, I was just fascinated, and I wanted to see what she would do, but over time it grew into more. It was the first time I realized I was capable of more than just taking, but the end result was the same as the rest. Still, I know that no matter how much I don't want to be, I'm doomed to repeat the pattern."

Rowan sighed. He'd clearly strengthened his restraint since he hadn't killed Evelyn or Orla, and they'd been around him for nearly five years each. Still, Conor was telling the truth, and if he didn't have the confidence in himself, there was no way for her to summon it for him. The only way forward—the only way to guarantee her and Aeoife's safety—was to kill him. The only way forward was for the Mother to make a better deal with a new god of death.

They stood in silence—the longing in both of them reaching out toward the other across what felt like a cavern of space.

Rowan sighed, all the air rushing out of her as she made the decision. It felt like the walls of her heart were caving in on themselves.

She would do what she had to. She always knew she would need to, and she couldn't pretend anymore that there was another option. The Mother told her. The Wolf told her. She needed to stop pretending there was another choice because the longer she did, the more likely it was that she'd be the one to die. She'd nearly died last night.

Beyond that, she'd promised Sarai that she'd find a way to break their world to make it more equitable for all of them and this might be the only way she could do that.

Rowan wasn't sure if she could live with herself if she killed Conor. For her whole life, everything had been controlled, and for the first time, she wished she could opt out of making a decision and surrender her agency to someone else. She couldn't help but wonder if it was easier to live with herself when she thought she had no choice.

Because the choice she knew she had to make at that moment was the one that would shatter her heart.

She'd tried to find a way for both of them to survive, but the fact remained—they were mutually destructive. There was no avoiding it. No postponing it. They'd passed the point of no return, and no matter what she felt for him, she owed it to herself to want more for her life than anyone else would.

It wasn't that she didn't trust Conor. She knew he didn't want to hurt her. Felt it in her bones, in her heart, in the pulse that passed between them when they stood so close. She just knew that they were all bound by the magic that ruled their world, and as much as he wanted to fight it when the time came, he'd be powerless against it, even if it broke his heart.

So she made the choice to protect herself; to protect Aeoife. It wasn't fair that no one else would do it, but she was used to life's inequity. It was a brutal sacrifice, but she'd make it for Aeoife. She'd make it for herself, even if doing so broke her heart.

"Fine," Rowan sighed. "But I want something first."

Conor nodded. "Anything."

The words almost froze in her mouth before she could get them out. Her heart ached miserably in her chest, so full of unspent love and dread she thought she might collapse.

She met Conor's eyes and forced herself to speak. "Take me to bed one more time."