34. Rowan

34

ROWAN

C onor's face was full of fear and longing as he knelt in the center of his temple. Rowan could not believe he'd humbled himself before her. He'd given her what they both thought him incapable of.

Her heart warred with her mind. She wanted to believe that he meant what he was saying, but he could have just as easily been trying to find a way to bind her to him now that she'd be free. But this offer felt less like possession and more like homage.

Her hands trembled as she cupped his face. "Conor—" Her voice broke. He wasn't just offering his heart for a lifetime. He was offering it for an eternity.

He reached to wipe the tears from her cheeks. She looked at the rows of shrines of her fallen sisters and, instead of feeling repulsed by his savagery, she felt suddenly certain that someone tame would never do.

She lowered herself to her knees, meeting his stormy eyes. "Bind my heart to yours. Weave your life with mine."

Conor sagged in relief, squeezing her hands.

"From my lips may only truth flow. From your heart may only peace grow. You are the mirror of my heart. You help me see myself even when I want to stay blind. From this day until my last, I bend to no one but you, Conor?—"

"Grey," he supplied.

"Conor Grey," she said with a smile. "Now what?"

Conor kissed her, weaving his fingers through her hair and pulling her body flush to his. "Now, lass, we get to the business of making it official," he whispered against her lips as he guided her down to her back on the cool marble floor.

Hiking up her dress, he bent to kiss her again, brushing his fingers over her thighs.

Pounding footsteps cut through their frenzy as Sarai and Charlie burst into the temple. Charlie paused in the doorway, looking unsurprised.

Sarai drew up short, turning away. "I've had a vision. You must come. Something is very wrong in town. I fear we need to put our plan into action now, or we may lose our chance."

They dashed out of the temple, through the keep, and to the front doors. Charlie took off to gather the reapers as Conor helped Rowan into her cloak and pulled on a leather breastplate marked with the crest of the Wolf.

A furious pounding on the door made them freeze.

Conor pushed Rowan and Sarai behind him and threw open the heavy wooden doors, coming face to face with the Crone.

"We must move fast!" the Crone said. She met Sarai's eye. "Did you see it too?"

Sarai nodded.

"I'm sorry, Rowan," the Crone said, shaking her head. "I know I made a grave mistake. I see the error now. You were meant to right the balance, not ruin it. I only had part of the picture, but I have the whole now. Something is very wrong in town. The anxiety was already through the roof, but there was such a surge of restlessness… I did not receive a full vision, but something is wrong at the tower, and I worry even if we run, we will be too late. I know you have no reason to trust me, but please come quickly."

"It could be a trap," Conor said, glaring at the Crone.

"I swear on my soul," she said meaningfully.

Conor gritted his teeth and nodded.

Sarai stepped forward. "Mother, if you're lying?—"

"I swear I'm not, but if you need me to prove it, I will pass along my title to you right now," the Crone said.

Rowan's gaze whipped to Sarai. It was exactly what they'd discussed happening in their plan.

"I've seen all the outcomes," the Crone said. "The plan you have is the only one that has a prayer of working."

A silent understanding passed between Rowan and Sarai.

"All right, let's go. We will transfer the power as we move," Sarai said.

Together, Conor, Rowan, Sarai, and the Crone rushed down the trail toward Ballybrine. Rowan jogged alongside Conor, her hand in his. Behind them, the Crone and Sarai spoke back and forth in incantations. After a few minutes, they went silent and picked up their pace.

Rowan felt a strange hum in the forest, the plants perking up as she walked by. She could sense the song in them in a more vibrant way. Something had shifted, either from her call for help the day before, or from her wedding.

"I'm very proud of you, Sarai," the Crone said.

"Congratulations, Sarai," Rowan said, smiling back at her friend. "Now, whatever is happening at the tower, you need to let Conor and I go first. You hang back because we'll need you both if the Mother appears. You know the plan only works if she doesn't see you coming."

Sarai nodded. "And if we can get witnesses."

They hurried on as the flickering torches of the trailhead came into view.

Loud shouting and the smell of smoke wafted down the trail, and Rowan burst into a full run.

"Rowan, let me go first!" Conor shouted.

"Keep up!" she grunted in reply.

They burst from the trail and Rowan drew up short as Finn came into view, leaning against the wall in front of Maiden's Tower, looking beat-up and dejected. The door of the tower had been battered inward, several bodies strewn about the entryway. Finn's sword dripped with blood and his gaze lifted, colliding with Rowan's.

"Row, I tried?—"

"No," Rowan breathed. She tore past him into the tower and came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs, where Mrs. Teverin lay in a pool of blood.

"Mrs. Teverin," Rowan said. Her voice broke. She looked up the stairs. "Aeoife!"

She lurched forward, but Conor caught her hand. "Rowan, perhaps I should go first."

"If she's scared, she won't recognize you. She'll be hiding, waiting for me," Rowan said.

Conor followed behind her. The weight of dread slowed their ascent.

Rowan stopped when she came to the first landing. The sight of Aeoife's small body in a heap stole all the air from Maiden's Tower, leaving her breathless, a silent sob caught in her throat.

"Aeoife," she said finally, falling to her knees beside the little girl.

"Rowie?" Aeoife coughed.

Rowan crawled over to her, pulling the girl into her arms. "I'm here. I'm here, Aeoife."

Aeoife smiled up at her, her eyes full of tears and relief. Rowan tried to ignore the puddle of blood that instantly soaked through her dress, making her knees sticky.

"I fell on the stairs. There were so many men coming, and Mrs. Teverin and Cade tried to get me out, but we made it downstairs too late, and she told me to run," Aeoife said. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she was breathless, as if speaking took great effort.

Rowan realized she must have broken ribs. "You're going to be all right. We're going to get a healer. I just need you to stay awake, Aeoife," she urged, barely able to contain her panic. There was far too much blood pooling around the girl's little body.

"I'll get the healer," Finn said, disappearing down the stairs.

"See, Finn is going to get help. You will be okay, Aeoife. Just look at me, okay?" Rowan pleaded.

Aeoife smiled weakly. "Is that him?" she asked. "Is that the Wolf?"

Rowan followed her gaze to Conor, who was trying to both be supportive and give them privacy.

"Yes, that's Conor," Rowan said.

Conor knelt beside her. "Hello, Lady Aeoife. It's very nice to meet you. I've heard so much about you."

Aeoife smiled. "He's not very scary," she noted, meeting Rowan's eyes again.

Rowan moved her hand and felt that Aeoife's head wound had soaked through her cloak where she held it in place. "That's not true, Aeoife. He's terrifying. It's just that you're very brave."

Aeoife's eyes weren't fully focused. "I know you said not to tell people about what I feel, Rowie, but I can feel how he worries for you. It's like how you worry for me," she whispered. Tears streamed down her cheeks, puddling in her hair. "I think I'm?—"

"No! Don't say it," Rowan said. She looked frantically at Conor, but she could tell by the grim line of his mouth that he was seeing something she wasn't.

"Please, Conor. Can you help?" Rowan begged desperately.

"I wish I could, love. But you know that life is not my gift," he said.

Rowan was desolate as she met Aeoife's eyes. "All right, why don't I sing you a song? I'll sing your favorite. The one about the Storm Prince and his princess."

She opened her mouth and sang a song of love and loss, even while knowing it was hopeless. She tried. Rowan pressed her magic into the girl in her arms, willing her back to life—as if it was as simple as bringing back plants. But unlike the fairy tale in the song, Rowan's life turned into a nightmare as Aeoife breathed out in a rattle and her chest refused to rise again.

"No—" Rowan breathed. She felt the moment the life left the little girl who had been a sister to her.

Rowan felt like she was drowning on dry land. She was wild with grief, unmoored, and shredded to pieces.

There was a commotion on the stairs behind her as Finn reappeared with Charlie on his heels. "I couldn't find any healers. Everything is in chaos—" He stopped when he saw Rowan's face. "Rowan, I swear I tried to keep them back. There were just too many of them."

Rowan blinked, trying to clear away the visual of Aeoife's lifeless body.

It was impossible for someone so full of life to be gone. She couldn't wrap her head around the loss. It wasn't a pit like she'd felt for Orla. It was a dark star that sucked in everything else. It was a vortex that split wide with depths that went on forever into the dark.

Something stirred in Rowan. Something burgeoned from the depths of her grief. She felt the Dark Wood reaching toward her for comfort. She felt its power in her bones, in her heart, in her hands. She felt the stirring of a rage that could swallow up the sun.

"I need a white sheet for a shroud," she whispered.

Conor disappeared and returned a moment later with the sheet. "What can I do?" he whispered as he knelt beside her, resting a hand on Rowan's shoulder.

She didn't have words to tell him that was what she needed—him beside her, sharing her grief, unafraid of her growing rage.

"She was going to be eleven next week," Rowan whispered. "She loved fancy pink dresses and romantic fairy tales. I was going to bring her to the keep next ceremony so she would be safe. She hated sleeping in her room alone, and she was afraid of the dark."

She brushed Aeoife's hair back from her face and carefully placed her body on the sheet, tucking the ends around her reverently and covering her sweet face last.

"She'll never hold my hand again. She'll never sleep in my bed. We'll never have sticky buns together on Sunday mornings. We'll never look at dresses in the windows of shops in town and say which one we like best. She'll never grow up," she rasped. Conor wrapped his arms around Rowan, and she leaned into him. "She was supposed to live ."

"I know, love. I am so, so sorry," Conor whispered.

Rowan brushed away her tears and steadied herself. "I have to bring her to her mother. Their house isn't far from here."

Conor nodded and helped her stand with the body in her arms.

"I can carry her, love," he said softly.

"No, I have to do it," Rowan insisted.

Conor sighed and turned his gaze on Finn. "Did you see who was responsible?"

"I did," Finn said, eyeing Conor warily.

"Charlie, please gather those men for us. We will be back soon," Conor said. With that, he guided Rowan out of Maiden's Tower.

Rowan led him down several streets before she came to a stop outside of Aeoife's family's cottage. They'd chosen to stay where they had always lived even after Aeoife was taken as a Maiden since they were a middle-class family to begin with. The house was charming, with a thatched roof and a white fence surrounding the yard.

Rowan hesitated on the walkway up to the house.

"What's wrong?" Conor asked.

She swallowed hard. "I just wanted to give them one more minute of peace before I tear their world apart. Just one more minute, and then we'll knock," she said, blinking back tears.

Rowan didn't say that she also wasn't ready to let Aeoife go yet. She'd had no time to make peace with the sudden loss of the one person she'd promised to protect. The failure threatened to bring her to her knees. Rowan knew Aeoife was already gone, but there was a finality to handing her over to her family that she couldn't wrap her mind around.

The door opened, and Aeoife's mother was startled at the sight of Rowan and Conor just a few feet away. Her eyes went instantly to the white bundle in Rowan's arms.

"No. No, no, no. It can't be," Aeoife's mother said. She fell to her knees in agony as she looked at the white shroud.

Rowan bent toward her and placed Aeoife in her arms.

"You promised you would protect her!" Aeoife's mother screamed, clinging to the body cradled against her.

"I know," Rowan breathed. "I'm sorry."

"You've done enough!" the woman shouted. Her grief was so profound that Rowan was certain people could feel it blocks away.

Conor stiffened beside her, but Rowan settled a hand on his arm. "It's okay. She's just grieving."

"She shouldn't talk to you that way," he whispered. "You did your best."

Rowan looked at him. "I'm the only one she can talk to that way. I am the only one who can share her grief with her. It's far too much to bear alone."

She turned back to Aeoife's mother, who looked furious and broken. The woman had tried to hide her magical daughter from an unimaginable fate, and she'd failed. She'd been dragged away from Maiden's Tower sobbing the day Aeoife was given over. Of course she was angry, and she could not yell at the elders or the men who'd hurt her daughter for fear of the same violence befalling her or her other children. She could only rage against someone who loved Aeoife just as much.

"There is no way to fix this, but I will see justice done. Stay inside tonight and keep your loved ones close. I will not let this go unpunished," Rowan said.

Aeoife's mother nodded, her lip trembling and her gaze fierce with shared conviction. "You show them the same mercy they showed my beautiful girl," she rasped. Then she turned and disappeared inside with Aeoife's body, leaving Rowan feeling empty and too weighed down to move.

"Rowan, I'm so sorry," Conor said. "There aren't words for her loss. I know you loved her very much."

Rowan turned to face him, unable to make out his expression through her tears. "She was good. She was supposed to be okay. She was supposed to still be here after me. I was going to stay forever if I could. I was going to make sure she never had to do what I did. It was supposed to?—"

She couldn't breathe around the loss. She felt like her chest had been torn open.

"It was all supposed to be worth it for her," Rowan gasped.

The truth was devastating. Above everything else in Rowan's life, her love for Aeoife—her desire to protect the girl from suffering the same fate—had been the one thing that sustained her. Now she felt lost at sea with no purpose or direction and no way to steer the ship.

Conor pulled her into his arms, and she buried her face in his chest and cried. "I wish that I could take this grief from you. I wish I could save you from it, but it's simply love that you had left to spend, and you always have so much love to give."

He rubbed her back in soft, soothing circles as they walked away from Aeoife's house. As they cut down the street, the grief abated, swallowed by a fresh wave of anger. By the time they reached the trailhead at Maiden's Tower, she was propelled purely by fury.

Charlie had gathered the men responsible, and they all knelt in a line on the dais outside the Temple of the Mother where the weekly Gratitude and Grieving Ceremony was held. Rowan had expected to see Finn, but he was nowhere to be found.

"These are all the ones that the demon and Finn could identify," Charlie said solemnly.

"The demon?" Rowan asked.

"Your friend, Cade," Charlie said. "He and the hunter tried to hold off the crowd."

Rowan swallowed hard. Despite all that had happened, she was relieved that at least Cade had been there to try to protect Aeoife. What had really broken Rowan was the thought of Aeoife being terrified and alone.

Rowan felt sick as she looked at the men. Some she recognized from prominent houses in Ballybrine.

"And what did you hope to gain, chasing down a child? Trampling an old woman?" Rowan demanded.

None of the men spoke.

Conor stepped up beside Rowan. "Speak or die," he ordered.

The men trembled at the sight of him, and Rowan wondered what they were seeing.

Rowan laughed bitterly. "Oh, is that the problem? Am I not frightening enough? That can be remedied."

She tugged on the tether between herself and the Dark Wood, and the forest rushed over its boundary, pressing out behind the men. The temple groaned and stained glass shattered as the enchanted vines and roots burst through the walls. In moments, the temple was in ruins, and the edge of the Dark Wood loomed right behind the group of men.

Rowan tugged again at the magic, and the men cried out in fear and surprise as their hands were roughly dragged overhead, bound by roots and vines.

"We didn't hurt her. She just fell!" one of the men shouted.

"She fell because you were chasing her. Do you have any idea what it would be like for a young girl to be chased by a mob of angry grown men? What was she supposed to do after you'd killed her tutor?" Rowan screamed.

She opened her mouth and sang, tugging on the tether between her and the Dark Wood. The forest ran a large root through the man's heart. A sickening gargle burst from his lips and blood covered the ground. Rowan should have been horrified, but she only felt bone-deep rage and grief. Killing him did nothing to lessen her burden, but it felt good to be able to do something.

"Please, Lady Rowan. Mercy, please," another man said, hanging his head.

Rowan faltered. These were someone's husbands, fathers, sons. She could tell by their clothing that they were common men, stirred into a frenzy by a fanatical religion. Killing them wouldn't alleviate her pain. It would just spread it around.

She looked to Conor.

"It is enough , love. You have given them enough. They do not get your mercy," he said.

Rowan considered if she had more to extend them. More patience. More understanding. More of herself. But there was none. There was only the emptiness of losing Aeoife and new rage burning through her blood. Rowan did not care for mercy when she could have vengeance.

Conor was right. They would never stop asking for more. She'd sacrificed most of herself to them and it still had not been enough. It never would be. As long as she had breath in her lungs, they'd ask for more.

It was for her to decide now, and it was finally enough.

So she sang a different song—one of rage and fury—and the Dark Wood stretched out its roots and ripped the men to shreds. After just a few moments, the blood that flooded the cobblestones was the only sign that the men had ever existed.

The entire Dark Wood rumbled and stretched, tearing into Ballybrine like a beast ripping chunks from its prey. People screamed and fled as nature took over.

Rowan turned toward the town and walked into the havoc with death at her back and the Dark Wood at her beck and call. The townsfolk ran screaming, but she did not care. She'd spent her life bending for them, and they'd finally broken her, and if they stood in her way, she'd break them right back.

Rowan had been taught it was right to always give more—to always think of the Mother's mercy—but the Mother had never shown her any. In fact, the Mother had taught her that mercy was a weakness. Rowan felt no guilt for showing the same mercy she'd been granted her whole life.

Grief was an anchor. She could let it drag her down into the depths, or she could see it as fuel and transform it into vengeance. Rowan was ready to spend all of it at once. Maybe it wouldn't make her feel any better, but at least it gave her something to do. At least she could make the people who thought it was okay to attack a young girl regret being so heartless.

She turned and caught Conor watching her. He looked fully in awe.

"You are exquisite," he sighed, pulling her into a vicious kiss that stole her breath.

When she met his eyes, her desire for revenge was reflected on his face. Fear and hurt and pain all razed down to simple vengeance.

"Love, when you're done ruining them, I'm going to make our vows official on the altar of the fucking Temple of the Mother," he growled, kissing her again.

The words sent a surge of heat through her body.

"I look forward to it," she said breathlessly.

She smiled as she drew away and turned her attention back to the town. How far could she push the Dark Wood? How far would her rage carry her? To the square? All the way to the sea? How far did she want it to carry her?

She didn't know. All she knew was that she wasn't dead yet.

Conor followed behind her with Charlie and a flood of reapers on his heels.

"Demon's breath, lass! You know how to make an entrance," the reaper said. "And I thought you were intense, Con."

The Dark Wood pulsed around them—the new growth eager to spread into town.

"When I met you, I was afraid you were too soft. Now I think perhaps you're more fierce than even I am," Conor said.

Rowan soaked in the awe in his gaze.

"All right, I get it. You're in love. Can we keep going? We have a job to do and not much time to do it. The new refugees just arrived from the north. It's now or never," Charlie said.

Rowan took a breath and closed her eyes. Grief rose like a great tide. Conor's hand slid to her lower back, and she knew he felt it through their bond. She forced herself to march on, dragging the Dark Wood with her as people fled.

Those people would never understand what it was to be raised as an object. They wouldn't understand the grief of loving two beautiful Maidens who should have had their whole lives ahead of them. They didn't understand the frustration of having no control over your life and fate. They didn't understand what it was to want desperately to live when you knew you would die.

Rowan was happy to give them a lesson. She thought perhaps she would mourn the sweet girl she used to be. So many times in the past few months, she'd killed off and buried new versions of herself. Reinvention required what was dead in her to stay dead, allowing what was left to rise like a phoenix and burn the world down for killing her in the first place.

She knew what people would say—that she'd allowed the Wolf to drag her down into the dark. The truth was that she'd spent her life in the dark, and he was the first person who allowed her to be exactly as she was.

"I know we had discussed a more subtle approach, but obviously, we'll have to act now with what little bit of the plan we have," Conor said as they walked.

Rowan nodded. They had no idea if their plan would work. With Conor's power waning, they couldn't be certain he was even really immortal anymore. There were many points of failure. They could both be hurt and gone in an instant, but they had to try.

Rowan would try for Orla and Aeoife—for all the Maidens who had come before her. She would try for Sarai, who deserved to love who she loved and live a life that allowed her to be who she truly was. She would try for their small, sheltered village that needed to acknowledge the damage done, grow from their mistakes, and never forget them so that they would not be repeated.

Most of all, Rowan would try for herself. She'd been alone her whole life, but she wasn't anymore, and she never would be again, because the forest had always been listening, and it knew her pain well.

Rowan began to sing, pulling hard on the magic, and the Dark Wood grew around her like a green tide.